#“I backed against the wall behind me / the space between us became tiny / his piercing gaze bereaved my form with odd tremors and chills

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

once upon a a mingling shiny while I carved a statue tiny came a sound a little whiny from my chamber door

the hinges squealed a lament craven Footsteps encroached on my haven but the noise was not a raven it was Feanor

Fëanor is a crow. No I will not be taking constructive criticism

[andnofcksweregiven]

Universal Rule

jeff wittek x reader

warnings: fluff , smut (i’m sorry if it isn’t super great first time writing it 😅)

synopsis: this anons request basically

There’s a universal rule that females and males can’t simply be friends. Where it came from- no one seems to know however, as much as we try and deny it, the realization that there’s harbored feelings hidden deep within you reels its ugly head around.

Jeff Wittek, a man who some may describe to be as gorgeous as a God but as charming as a devil. His natural allure but timidness factor to the ever growing attention of many women, ones he tries to politely reject with a signature giggle- a sign that, once again, he’ll be going home alone.

Except, he wasn’t truly alone as everyone believed. Jeff had a blossoming friendship with a neighbor, from the second he helped her with the last box on moving in day, to the next second everything fell through the bottom and all over his feet- a plethora of clothing ranging from heavy jeans to delicate red panties. For Jeff, it was like a nightmare, slight pink hue dusting his cheeks, that was until a fit of giggles erupted from his new neighbor's lips.

From that day on, Jeff and Y/N were inseparable. In their world, they were friends, ones without any ulterior motives in their hearts or heads, although- to someone looking in, Jeff and Y/N were a ticking time bomb. Either the final chapter to the romance part of their individual books, or the greatest heartbreak and tragedy since Romeo and Juliet. 

Y/N was the first to realize and accept the fact that to her, Jeff was it. It tiptoed into her heart like a burglar, one who was preparing to wreak havoc on the one thing that no one had been able to possess in almost forever. It hit one evening, after Jeff was going on a rant about how there’s so much he has to do, and that even though he knows he’s working himself to the bone, he needs to make sure he’s growing. The vulnerability in his voice, the softness in his eyes melted Y/N- just like it had done to thousands of women before her. 

For Jeff, it happened when Y/N had dragged him on a 2 am walk with Nerf after finding him slumped over his computer recording the same voice over for nearly 20 minutes- the food she had bought going cold besides him. Nerf was hopping up her ankles as they walked, an almost puppy like behavior, barking happily up at her. Jeff had stepped back to capture the moment as Y/N carried on going further- he had slowly lowered his phone as he gazed longingly at a girl who you could compare to Aphrodite.

The universe runs on minutes, hours, days, months and so on. A singular second could be a turbulent moment in ones life. Jeff and Y/N had so many stored seconds from meeting, to the realization that your friend holds more power over your existence then another soul. Those seconds, as heavy as they felt, had fleeted away like distance memories to reminisce on later. Nonetheless, the universe runs on seconds.

Jeff had been running late for a usual movie/ catch up night with Y/N, which led to her deciding to take a brisk shower to calm her ongoing nerves. To her dismay, her mind must have slipped up the tiny detail of letting Jeff know she was in the shower, let alone the fact that he had a spare key to her apartment.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I know I’m late but there was about 20 ninjas I had to fight off in the hallway an’ then a meteor was gunna come an’ hit-” Jeff voice slowly went quieter as he spun away from the front door, only to be met with an empty living room. “Huh, she must be running late as well” he thought.”fuuuuuck I need a piss, she wouldn’t care if I used her toilet”

He walked idly towards the bathroom, unaware to his surroundings as the only thought he was having was how much he was bursting. It wasn’t until a ear piercing shriek echoed off the walls as a naked Y/N stood stunned in the middle of the bathroom.

“Y/N!? HOLY FUCK I- I’M SO SORRY I-” spinning on his heel and running out the room as Y/N finally wrapped her towel securely round her.

“JEFF WHAT THE HELL?” she screamed at him once entering the living room, a pink faced Jeff sitting on the arm rest of her couch head in hands, from the sheer mortifying fact he had managed to see her whole bare silhouette.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I- I- I really needed the toilet...” a whisper that would’ve been hard to catch if the environment hadn’t been so silent. 

“Oh, well go on then I’m done anyways” retreating back into her room to put some article of clothing and a shred of dignity that might have been left in her. Whilst Jeff hurried back into the steamed up room, the blush growing more prominent by every thought of that singular second.

It carried on through out the night, the tension thick in the air, as Jeff kept replaying the moment- he felt like he was being engulfed by the steam from how hot he was starting to feel. The beads of water cascading down your heaving chest, your pillowy lips slightly parted from shock as your sparkling eyes stared directly at him. The more he fantasized, the tighter his shorts got- he was trying his best not to let his mind wonder but having you pressed against his right side, your delicate hands grazing his upper left arm- sending electricity through out his veins- it was leaving him dissatisfied. 

“Y/N?” his voiced wavered as he gazed downwards at the h/c haired girl,

“Yeah Jeff?”

“Can you look at me for a sec”

A slight giggle escaped your mouth, as you raised your head to stare longingly into his eyes. “Ok what do you want because this is a really good sce-”

A second.  

A second was all it took before your lips collided into a passionate yet sensual kiss. A kiss that had left you breathless and almost bare once he pulled away. The empty space between your lips seeming never ending, suddenly you grasped at the collar of his shirt as you fell back on the couch, Jeff following as he slotted himself between your parting legs. His lips trailed towards your jaw and down your neck- sucking and biting, leaving something more then just a memory behind.

Hot breathes followed by sharp movements of clothes being ripped off, after months of hesitation and refusal of the cardinal need to be with one another. 

Jeff's lips wrapped around the stiff peak of your right tit as his slightly rough textured hand, massaged the other one. To him, it felt like silk, soft and welcoming. He didn’t think he could feel better until he finally got a taste of you, a broad stripe up your slit, making you gasp and slightly arch your back off the couch as his forearm held your hips down. As he pulled his head back, the loss of contact had you whining until suddenly Jeff delved his head back in, sucking on your clit that a guttural moan escaped your bruised lips. Your eyes rolled back as you felt a tight coil in your lower abdomen as Jeff continued his attack in between your legs.

“Jeff I’m gunna, JEFF!” 

You came all over his tongue as he carried on lapping away, the taste of you making his mind hazy. Finally, he pulled himself up towards your face, your eyes hooded as you tried to catch your breath.

He placed a light kiss to the top of your head has he stroked your hair backwards, whispering and “are you ok?” to your hairline.

He was going to ask if you wanted to go on before he felt your hand wrap itself around his dick, slowly moving your hand up and down as you placed the tip against your entrance. Looking into your eyes for any shred of hesitance, but being instead met with lust. He kept the eye contact as he pushed himself further inside, a sharp intake of breathe being held inside your lungs as your walls enveloped around him. He didn’t start moving until you let the breathe out, followed by a slight nod.

He built up his speed start slow and hard before hammering into you, the tip of his dick hitting the spot you needed him too. Both of your moans harmonizing as the air carried them in the room, along with skin slapping. Jeff was insatiable. To him, you were like a new vice, one that he intends on never dropping. The constrictions of your walls felt like heaven as you gripped onto his dick, your groans and breaths becoming shallow and shaky as you neared your peak. A final hip shattering thrust, made you coat Jeff’s dick as he slowed down, nearing his own finish as his breathing became ragged until, at last, he pulled out and released on your stomach.

He collapsed beside you as your labored breathing filled the silence- the movie long finished. 

“Wow, I really wasn’t expecting that” you half heartedly chuckled, as you cuddled back into Jeff’s side, head resting on his chest.

Your head bounced as Jeff’s laugh echoed in his chest. “If I’m being honest y/n/n, neither did I”

“So what now Jeff? Can’t exactly pretend this didn’t happen” resting your chin on his chest, waiting to see his deep brown eyes that turned golden in the Sun light.

“Lets not then” he responded nonchalantly as your eyebrows crumpled together, his gaze averting away from the barren ceiling to yours, a smile gracing his lips as a deep emotion of love clouded his eyes “This is a second I never want to forget”

[noctuaas]

THE DEVIL COMES IN MANY FORMS

synopsis; you and me and the devil makes three.

pairing; ukai keishin x reader

content; nsfw/smut, age gap, bad power dynamics, fem!reader, semi-public sex, slight religious reference, unprotected sex

word count; 2.4k

a/n; big thanks to @hazydazyboy for letting me write about his sexy concept in this fic !!

Ukai Keishin considered himself to be a good man. Sure, he drank and smoked, and when he was younger he got into his fair share of fights, but he was honest, and fair, and good. Everyone would agree. Everyone except you; you seemed to beg to differ.

“Those are bad for you, ya know?”

You always flirted with Ukai: stealing glances for just a little too long; spouting off innuendos when he was just a little too close by; blatantly hiking your skirt up a bit higher whenever you helped with practice. It was all harmless in your mind; Ukai was young and handsome, and it was entertaining to see if he would ever react. He never did. Not until today; not until you stole the cigarette straight out of his mouth, took a drag, and then snuffed it out in the tray.

“Yeah, well. You seem pretty bad for me right now too, missy.”

He said it under his breath; you weren’t even sure you were meant to hear it. But you did. You did, and he realized this.

Maybe the words were a silent committal; a subconscious ‘fuck it’ that signalled you had finally broken him. He was going to play your game. 

Ukai approached, and the intrusion on your space made your grip on the edge of the counter loosen as you sat up straight. Your legs wanted to squeeze together, but instead they were inched apart until Ukai’s waist fit right between your knees. You watched intently where his hips pressed into the countertop—it was the only thing that separated you two—before letting your gaze level out.

He was dangerously close. You breathed the same air, inhaling what he just let out, almost like you stole it from his lungs. When you were this close, you saw more than you ever had. The bridge of his nose had a tiny mark, and crooked to the right almost unnoticeably, like it had been broken when he was younger; there was a spot on his left eyebrow that looked like he had once shaved a slit there, and the hair never grew back perfectly; his caramel eyes were a lot darker than you remembered, though maybe the blown pupils were a result of circumstance.

Your heart pounded, in more than one place. How shameful of you, but you couldn’t help that you might have had a fantasy or two that started like this.

“Well, pick your poison,” you finally muttered. If you were given any more time, you probably would have gone red and hidden your face; a comment that bold was a little out of line for you. But Ukai did not give you time.

Your hands had to grab onto the front of his shirt when he kissed you, for fear that with how far he was leaning into you, you might topple backwards. He wouldn’t have actually let that happen with the hand he slipped behind you.

It was the same hand that drug you flush to the edge of the counter. The little bit of space between your bodies was eliminated quickly, and your breath caught ever so slightly. 

“Now,” Ukai mumbled against your lips, pulling back and waiting until you were looking him in the eye before continuing. “You’re gonna tell me as soon as you want me to stop. Alright, pretty girl?”

He was genuine. You could see it in his eyes. He wanted you, but he would not do a thing you didn’t want him to do. You would not stop him though; you wanted him, too.

It was one more kiss on your lips before he was lapping up your jaw and growling in your ear. You reflected on how his tongue tasted so strongly of his cigarette smoke, yet you didn’t find it offensive; it mixed almost sweetly with a hint of chapstick left on his lips. 

Your mind didn’t linger though, because he was tugging your earlobe between his teeth and slipping his hands around your waist under the thin fabric of your shirt. His fingertips were marred by callouses, a fact you never realized to the fullest in years past. As his hot, open-mouthed kisses travelled down, his hands rose to meet them, your shirt lifting until it was coming off over your head.

Ukai’s mouth trailed the hill of your breasts, following the edge of your bralette. The lower he dipped, the hotter your skin seemed to burn. His fingers slid slowly under the hem of your bra, giving you time to protest, but instead you arched into his touch.

He didn’t bother taking the bralette all the way off of you; he only shoved it up far enough to free your tits so he could latch onto a nipple. It caught you off guard and made you let out a muffled squeak.

“Louder,” Ukai commanded; he barely pulled away, not even bothering to look up at you. Something about the way he said it stirred your stomach and made you clench your thighs around his waist. Your reaction made Ukai grin cockily, gently holding your nipple between his teeth.

When he turned to give your other tit some attention, his hands fell to the waistband of your shorts. He fumbled a little to tug them off, too preoccupied with his mouth to even bother detaching himself long enough to look at what he was doing. Once they were discarded to the floor, you felt everything so much easier. The bulge of his cock through his jeans was so much more obvious, and shit, he was already really hard.

It also became obvious just how wet you were already getting just from this little bit of foreplay; you wouldn’t usually be so turned on at this point, but there was something so hot about the fact that you were hooking up with your friends volleyball coach in his store. What was it they said; it’s better when it feels wrong?

Ukai hooked a finger around your underwear, sliding his knuckle along your pussy.

“So wet already,” he muttered, finally straightening up to look you in the eye. “You think about this a lot?” 

The question made you want to shrink away in embarrassment. Yes, you replied in your head, but you didn’t have to say anything for Ukai to know the answer. Your burning cheeks told him everything he needed to know.

“You’re more of a little slut than I thought.”

The comment made your toes curl and fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders. You took the opportunity to tug at it, asking ever so nicely with your eyes, and pulled his hands away from you long enough to discard it before getting back to business. 

He didn’t bother removing your underwear the same way he didn’t bother taking your bra off; they were simply shoved to the side to expose your needy cunt. And needy it certainly was. It graciously accepted his middle finger, and Ukai swore the feeling alone made his cock twitch in his pants. And then he added another, and you squirmed and whimpered, and he immediately knew we wanted to have you cumming around his fingers.

You were thankful he was the only one who worked the store. Even in the back, a spare employee could have heard his fingers pumping in and out of you; it only took a few minutes for you to be wet enough that your pussy squelched with every movement. 

You weren’t sure how he got you so close in such a short time. His pace was nothing brutal; in fact, it was borderline leisurely, but he curled his fingers in just the right way that had your knees already lifting and walls tightening. Ukai certainly knew what he was doing.

Ukai dropped to his knees. Not that you noticed with your eyes screwed shut like they were. You didn’t notice until his left hand was keeping your underwear out of the way as he lapped at your clit. His tongue moved in rhythm with his fingers, pushing you to the cliff that was your orgasm, until you were teetering over the edge.

“Fuck, Coach Ukai!” you gasped out when you finally crossed the threshold. Your arms almost gave out, and the only thing that kept your thighs from clamping around Ukai’s head was his left arm that braced against your leg. Instead, your hips bucked against his tongue, forcing him to ride you out on your high (not that he wouldn’t have done it on his own).

One hand had instinctively shot into Ukai’s hair when you came, causing his signature headband to fall away as you gripped onto him for dear life. You let him go as he rose to his feet again and his blonde locks fell into his face. 

He looked unlike anything you had seen before; eyes dark and vast like a trench under the ocean, and they told of a hunger from deep within; hair ruffled and messy, reminiscent of a wild animal riled up after a fight; and chin dripping liquid sex, his tongue flitting out to make him appear like a parched man downing water after being lost in the desert.

“Just Ukai,” he said before parting your lips with his slick-coated hand. You opened your mouth, relishing in your own taste on his fingers. “Got it?”

You hummed your understanding. It was an honest mistake that you had called him ‘Coach’; you were just so used to it.

“Good girl.”

You hadn’t expected to get off from this little adventure, let alone before Ukai did. You could practically see his cock throbbing through his jeans, and found your hands fumbling with his belt without a second thought; you wanted his cock, now.

Holy shit. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that; there on the underside of his cock, right below the reddened head, was a barbell piercing. Curiously, you wrapped your hand around his dick and ran your thumb over it. The metal was surprisingly shiny, and despite being shoved in his pants all day, still slightly cool to the touch.

“Ever seen one?” Ukai smirked when he asked the question. 

You shook your head ‘no’.

“I think you’ll like how it feels.”

Your gaze flitted back down to his cock momentarily. There was excitement in your eyes.

“Alright, pretty girl, stand up. Over the counter,” Ukai instructed you. He turned to grab a condom from a shelf near the counter—having an array of products in stock was a perk to running a store—but before he could even crack open the box, the sound of you clearing your throat had him turning back. You had your chest laid on the counter, peering over at him with your lip between your teeth as you shook your head ever so slightly.

His cock twitched at the prospect of going in on you raw. He knew it wasn’t a great idea, but then you told him you were on birth control, and he gave in to temptation. 

Upon his return, Ukai kneaded one of your ass cheeks in his hand, holding your underwear to the side again so that he slid into you with ease.

“Fuck,” he groaned. If he hadn’t been so absorbed with how warm and tight you were around his cock, he would have heard the way you whimpered and gasped below him.

His thrusts started out slow, trying to make sure you had time to adjust, but in practically no time he snapped his hips into you rapidly; how could he not when you felt so much better than he ever could have imagined? Despite all the sex he’s had, no one else had ever felt as much like heaven as you did. 

If your hips were the altar, your precious cunt was the tabernacle. You sang like the choir every time he moved, and he would be content to listen for the rest of his life. 

“Ah, Ukai, deeper please,” you moaned and whined and cried your hymns. The higher your voice got, the closer he felt to those holy gates; ironic, really, because when he snaked an arm around you to grip your throat and pulled you back against his own chest, he had never been closer to hell. 

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he growled into your ear. It was true, no matter how ashamed it made him. The first time you ever stirred something disgusting in Ukai, you weren’t even quite 17 years old yet; it wasn’t the first time you had helped with practice because Kiyoki couldn’t make it, but that day, when you bent over in that hiked up school skirt to grab a ball, he caught an eyeful of ass cheek (and maybe a peek of underwear between your thighs). 

Ukai almost didn’t catch himself in time; you started clenching your walls around his dick, and he was done for.

“Shit,” he hissed, pulling himself out of you as fast as possible. It was all he could do to cover his head with his hand and shove himself between your thighs. His grip pulsed around your throat as he came, three hot ropes of cum seeping between his fingers. 

Once he caught his breath, he placed a kiss on the side of your head and let you lay back down. You seemed to need a little more time to even out your breathing. He couldn’t help but note how pretty you were after being made a mess of.

Ukai Keishin was decidedly not a good man. The rest of the world might disagree, but they didn't know what he was doing right now. They didn’t know that every time the high school girl that crashed practice every now and then dropped by, he paid a little too close attention to you; they didn't know that one time you appeared to him in a dream, and try as he might to forget, it was the one that stuck in his mind most clearly; they didn't know that he was pulling his pants back on as you laid folded over his store counter with your underwear tugged to the side. You might be graduated now, and a legal adult, but this was still wrong. If he was a better man, he would have continued to ignore your flirty comments and pretty grin. 

But Ukai Keishin was not a good man.

[chaotic-txt]

Easier to stay, easier to go

Soobin x Reader | Drabble | Angst

Warning/s: None.

──────────── · · •

It was about time that you finally got back.

You were back again at your same old, worn out apartment where the lights are dim and flickering every moment, where the ceilings are full of dust and cracks, walls with paint flaking out of the surface and a fairly clean space.

The place isn’t exactly what you could call home, but you figured that it’ll do as a roof above your head. It has never been one anyway, constant fights and heated arguments occured every now and then, words being thrown at each other were much like gun firing bullets, piercing deep within flesh. Either it ends badly—with the neighbors banging against your thin walls because of the noise—or, one would leave the place and then come back after some time.

In this case, it was you who left with a heavy heart, clouded mind and a tear-stained face. Coming back at that same place felt like it was years since you have stayed there that standing inside seemed that a wash of nostalgia suddenly hit you, and it was not the good kind.

Your reminiscence with the rest of the previous events before you walked out of the apartment was broken by lazy footsteps that trudged upon the floor. The owner of those feet was met by your figure right by the doorstep, standing meekly and not knowing what to do. Usually, when one comes back after the fight, the other would come towards them with guilt written on their face and arms spread wide to engulf them in a tight hug. They’d be worried sick and would inspect thoroughly to check the other isn’t hurt, before coming for another embrace that would melt their worries away.

But there was none of that right now.

After Soobin saw your form and seemed to only spare just a glance at you, he went back to the kitchen right where he have been for the past few hours. There were no signs of recognition, no hugs, no whispers of apologies and sweet, hushed phrases to make up for the dispute that had broken out between the two of you. He just left you there like your presence was not much of a big deal for him, like your presence was not there at all and that you haven’t been gone for almost a week or two prior.

And somewhere within your heart hurt like it was squeezed to death. This was the first time he had done something like that; feigned ignorance and just simply moving on to continue on his dull and gloomy day. This was not the Soobin you knew, and the fight was yet to be over and done with.

As you approached the kitchen, sounds of cluttering dishes and utensils were heard along with the sound of the running tap water by the sink. Soobin’s back was facing you as he washed used plates and empty glasses in absolute silence. Empty soju bottles were beside him, maybe 5 to 7 bottles that were drank on different days considering that he doesn’t have such high alcohol tolerance to down them in just one go.

The mere thought have made you uneasy. Soobin was never a drinker. You know him too well to tell that he would rather discuss the problem than resorting to drinking and downing shots after shots, drowning his bladder with the alcoholic substance. However, as the months went by, he was pushed to a point where he had to raise his voice and so were you, until it became words that you never thought would ever leave your own mouth or his. Time changed you both, from two people who cherished each other to mere and total strangers who couldn’t care less with who was bound to get hurt. And you knew that from the recent fight that happened, it was your fault. Anger was what blinded and fueled you to say such things that hurt Soobin deeply.

As a way of showing how terribly sorry you were for leaving him that night, you made your way towards the tall male and slowly brought your arms to wrap around his torso from behind him.

He paused. You felt as though he was not finding any comfort from your affection no matter how you tried to convey your unspoken words of apology and regret, and that didn’t make things hurt less. It was blatantly wrong to always brush off the problems and you were silently admitting to yourself that things have gone way too overboard. It was that or there was something more that you have to be sorry for that you couldn’t just get off your chest. At the back of your mind, you knew you owe him a big apology.

The moment the last plate was placed aside to dry off, Soobin detached your arms from him. You stood there watching him go around the room, grabbing his own jacket and ruffling his hair as if to slightly disarrange it. You panicked. It was at that point that you reached out to him, finding yourself bolting towards the door to block his way and stop him from leaving.

“Soobin, I want to talk with you, please.”

He gave you a look, one that was quite unreadable as his eyes lingered on you. How he managed to stare at you for a little longer than he would have liked was a question he could not find an answer to. He was supposed to be mad at you, he was supposed to resent you as if your entire being chokes him to the point that he would want to leave immediately. Instead, he did not feel such emotions towards you as your eyes pleaded him to stay.

With that, his gaze gradually softened, in which he tried to hide under his dark fringes that were slightly covering his vision. He didn’t want for you to see him hesitating, he didn’t want you to know that you and your dewy eyes had that effect on him. It was enough to make him stay easily just as how it was easy for you to leave him once and every time that you two fight.

How did the both of you reach this point?

“Soobin...I, I know you’re mad at me for leaving– for all of the things that I've said that night. I didn’t—I didn’t mean any of those, Soobin, please believe me,” you muttered, forcing to swallow down the sobs that lodged itself inside your throat. Your heart were shaken by the tremors, fearing that your words had fallen upon deaf ears.

“Just let me leave, Y/N—”

“No, no please,” a whimper escaped your lips as you desperately attached yourself to Soobin, clinging onto him for your dear life with tears soaking right through his shirt, “Let’s not do this anymore, let’s fix this...”

“This is beyond repair, Y/N,” his eyes locked on to yours, holding your shoulders back, “this isn’t something that you could just mend and patch up so easily.

Not when you’ve already involved someone else when it's supposed to be just you and me.”

With his words, your eyes reflected confusion. Soobin mistook it for something else, that perhaps you were acting dumb in front of him, acting as if what he said wasn’t true, or if you were truly and genuinely confused just as a tiny part of him was—he honestly didn't know, because how could he still trust you after what happened? How will he believe you without any doubt creeping and lurking at the back of his mind?

“The night you left—the night when I was insisting for us to just sit down and talk things like rational alduts because I was so tired of arguing, the night when you were so full of your pent-up anger and I was ready to apologize even though you’ve hurt me with the things you said—I dashed out to find you. I didn’t stop searching, I didn’t waste a second in hopes that if I looked hard enough, I’ll soon find you.”

A wry laugh escaped his mouth, a poor attempt of masking how he was slowly breaking in front of you. Tears were brimming at his eyelids, pain flashing within his pool of dark irises. Remembering what he saw that time was a stab through his heart, a gut-wrenching pain as he tried his hardest to suppress his surging emotions—he has had enough. A whole week or two was enough for him to dwell deeper on it.

“But then—” he choked on a sob, “—I saw you with someone else. I saw you with him, Y/N.”

Memories of that moment came rushing inside your head. You were taken back to that Thursday night with Taehyun, sitting upon the stool of some small stand right by the street, leaning in slowly close to you. With one last look through your eyes—soft and gentle, a thing you were uncertain if it was because of his tipsy state or if it was true and genuine—he closed the gap, allowing both of your lips to touch each other's as your eyes then fluttered shut.

You stood there dazed as it played over and over again, staring blankly at the male that has now allowed his tears to cascade down his cheeks. Your grip tightened desperately, knowing what was going on inside Soobin’s head. You tried to formulate something, anything, but alas, your words got caught up in your throat and your mind went completely blank. Now, he knew your secret that’s been haunting you ever since it happened, a reason why you never came back for days straight while Soobin was left alone to worry over you. To contemplate about things, to decide that it’s finally time to leave, and how things would be much easier for him to stop dealing with what’s hurting him.

In just a blink of an eye, you’re about to lose something good that has happened in your life.

Seconds were now dragging into minutes and as silence still remained, Soobin was already tugging at your hands to pry them off of his jacket. It was hard to commit such action as he finally had you within his reach, yet he still chose to push you away despite his heart telling him to pull you close. It was a hard thing to do, but with the given circumstance, it was either he stay just like the fool that he is, or he goes.

And he chose the latter, something that you’re finding very hard to believe, something that you’re not allowing for it to happen. So you went with what your mind commanded you to do, as fast as you could, not long after the male had taken a few feet away from you. You kissed him, tiptoeing just so you could reach for his lips, molding them together as you cupped his cheeks eagerly. Your movements were a bit rushed, but there was the pressure to it, afraid that if you were to let a distance slip in, he would pull away so quickly out from your grasp.

Soobin, on the other hand, was left there standing idly. A warm tug at his chest presented itself as he felt your lips on his own, bringing back memories of the days where nothing went wrong, where it’s just only bliss and contentment, smiles and laughters. He missed it, basking in the feeling of having you close like this, pressed on to him without the need to let go; just the warm, fuzzy jitters as he gets lost by the fervent gliding of your lips.

His mind then began begging—screaming for him to push you away, to stop what you were doing to him as to also stop himself from letting you in again, to stop being frail and weak with just a mere kiss. But his heart, it never forgets. It only wants more, longing and yearning for more than what he have hoped and wished for and it was this moment. The day he has you in his arms once again, just as where you should be.

Before he could even process what he was doing, his hands have already pushed you by the wall and he responded with such passion that he could not hold back. Soobin moved his lips along with yours, catching up with the pace and rhythm of it. It all came back to him, the memories he thought that he have already forgotten—how soft the texture your lips felt on his and how you tasted like peach and vanilla on a hot Summer day, something that he could never resist. You tasted like the sweet first love that has struck him, you tasted like the fresh first drink of water that had replenished his parched throat...and yet somewhere in between, it changes.

What started as sweet, blooming love morphed into a bittersweet reality. And then he remembers, these were the pair of lips that touched another, and that you tasted like infidelity.

With a parting sob after he disconnects his lips from your own, Soobin leaned his forehead on yours. With this proximity, you could finally see the details on his face better than before—his thick, well-accentuated brows knitted together, his long and damped lashes, his porcelain soft cheeks, his lower lip that was jutting out and quivers so slightly. The image broke you—a visage etched with pain and misery this relationship has put him through—a reminder that this was what you have caused him.

You’ve hurt him severely, a deep cut that would surely leave a scar, uncertain if it will ever heal and stop from bleeding.

Why does it have to come to this?

“I’m sorry...I’m really sorry, Soobin...I’m so, so sorry...”

And just then, Soobin asked himself: why is it still easy for him to stay?

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader

genre: angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 7.3k  |  reading time: 40 min

chapter summary: flash backs clear the mystery of their first encounter, they fight over it, and then things get a bit heavier

warnings: there’s finally some sexy stuff going on yall, alcohol usage, metions of cheating, some dirty talk ig, some not very fluffy smut, almost angry fucking, dubious I’d say, fingering f.receiving, oral f.receiving, kinda dom!Tae, name calling kink? idk

All chapters  |  Masterlist  |  Read on AO3

Chapter 5: Irresistible urges of the past

3 years, 2 months, and 14 days ago at 7:35 pm

The party was Yoonji's idea but you never complained. Well, okay, you complained a little bit. But that was only when you heard the approximate number of guests that had been invited so far and argued your small, shared apartment would probably collapse from the total weight in it. You offered to move the function over to the bar down the street, but apparently, that's not a house-warming party.

"How on earth are so many people coming, anyway? We have, like, five friends at most. And that is including the lunch lady."

Yoonji gave you those puppy eyes. "Well, actually, Jimin just made an Instagram story to get the word out, not thinking many would wanna come," she mumbled under her breath, almost like she was trying to avoid giving you the explanation. "But it turns out ever since that video he did, lots and lots of people wanna be his friend now."

You exhaled hard, making a pathetic sound. "You gave the guy you've only been seeing for a couple of weeks permission to invite people to our party?"

She pouted at you. "I thought you liked him. Plus, he offered to do this for us. We barely know people here, Amy, this party is going to be the best to see new faces."

You chewed your lip as you were setting the drinks on the table in a nice order and contemplated your roommate's words. "What do you need new people for?" you whined. "You already have a best friend and a hot boyfriend."

Yoonji bumped her shoulder on your arm playfully. "But you don't. Who knows, maybe you'll like one of Jimin's friends."

You rolled your eyes at her, but that didn't cover up the smile that had started to form. "Doubt it," you objected. "Models are not exactly my type."

You heard Yoonji laugh from the kitchen. "Jimin's not a model!" she shouted back. Then peeked her head around the doorway to raise an eyebrow at you. "I mean, you're not entirely wrong."

People that you had never even seen before started showing up at your place, and without fail, they all asked where Jimin and Taehyung were. Rude, you thought. That was not their party; something that could easily be deduced by how they weren't even there yet. Also, when had Jimin become so popular all of a sudden? And who the fuck was Taehyung?

At about an hour after the place was already packed and your roommate's boyfriend had finally made an appearance, Yoonji just so happened that she was constantly MIA, and the task of welcoming the people that kept and kept on coming, fell entirely on your shoulders. A task that briefly seemed not so bad when you opened the door and a brown-haired, pretty boy stood in front of you. You guessed models were indeed invited to that party, the only explanation you could come up with for why the most handsome man you had ever led your eyes upon was looking at you and smiling.

"Is this Yoonji's and... Amy's party?" he asked and you were taken aback by his deep, raspy voice that countered his charming face.

"Yes," you said, letting him in. "And are you on the bride's or the groom's side?" You hated the joke the moment it left your lips, a moment too late to take it back. Five full seconds spent with a cute boy and you were already acting weird.

But the boy laughed, and the sound quite literally lifted your spirits. "I am with Jimin if that's what you're asking."

"Of course you are. Jacket?" You offered your hands up for him.

"Oh, right, where can I leave this?" he asked as he slid the piece of garment off his shoulders. You opened the door right behind you, a door that normally led to a small storage space, but you had turned into a temporary closet with all the jackets and purses you had shoved in there. The boy leaned next to you as he tried to find somewhere to leave his outerwear without just dropping it on the pile on the floor.

"Let me," you offered, taking a random jacket that hung from the ironing board, abandoning it on the ground, and replacing it with the pretty boy's one. That's pretty privilege for you.

He chuckled. "Whose was that? Is that okay?"

"Who cares, it's my house."

"Oh," he exclaimed, watching you more closely as you closed the door again and turned to him with your lips awkwardly pressed into a thin line. You pinned your body on the wall, waiting for him to move or say something. "You're Amy?" You nodded, and the boy burst out a big smirk. "Well, well, well..." he rasped. "I'm gonna kick Jimin's ass so hard. He didn't tell me Yoonji had such a cute roommate."

The way your entire face felt like it had caught on fire in a split second almost scared you. It definitely made your eyes widen and your head go into a defense mode; you had never flustered before, of course your brain would think it was under attack. And of course you would reply with something stupid again, like snorting and saying: "Right. And you are?"

"Kim Taehyung, freshly graduated and aspiring big photographer," he proudly introduced himself. It all suddenly seemed to click and you barely held yourself from gasping right in his face. He extended a hand to you, and you took it, ready to shake it. Instead, he surprised you by bringing it to his lips and planting a soft kiss right between your knuckles. "Enchanté," he whispered with his dark eyes piercing yours.

The stupid fire all over your face got worse. So worse all you could do was quickly pull away and scoff at him, but also laugh. "That was too much!"

"Sorry," he chuckled and gave you a big, boxy grin. "I was trying to make you swoon."

You couldn't help but mimic his energy. "Does that ever work on anyone?" Well, what a liar you are. It had literally turned your stomach into a knot.

And Taehyung, almost as if he knew that, smirked at you. "You'd be surprised."

Okay, so you may have overreacted a tiny bit when you took off running away from Taehyung. There could possibly have been other ways to go about it, like gently pushing him off and telling him this was a mistake, trying to talk, or even staying silent. Your head was spinning so hard as you stumbled down that path wishing you don't get lost in the foggy state your mind had dipped in due to the haste. And it had almost cleared, you had almost stopped to think about this rationally and wait for the photographer so that you could walk home together, but the longer you thought about it more clearly, the faster you ran. You didn't even know if it was fear or shame that was powering your flight, but it had to be one of those.

The further you stayed locked in your room, the later emotion became more and more prominent. You saw Taehyung emerge from the trees sometime later and get in the house, you heard him on the downstairs floor, you saw the lights turn on and off... He was everywhere, and you were hiding away, terrified and ashamed. How could you ever meet his eyes again? But most importantly, how would you face yourself in the mirror? You knew that was the worst part of the whole situation; you let your own self down.

3 years, 2 months, and 14 days ago at 1:23 am

You returned on the corner that Taehyung and you had been occupying all night long with a drink in your hands, swaying around and trying to survive the mob of drunk college students that were doing what you were sure they thought was dancing in the middle of the living room. Some of the drink spilled on the way and you're not sure if it was because of all the bumping on people or the way you had started seeing everything double and losing your balance pretty easily.

"What the hell happened to my chair?" you whined as you found the photographer sitting there alone when you had specifically asked him to save you the seat.

He shrugged. "I couldn't defend it, sorry." Then he spread his legs wide and pat his thigh, looking up at you with a smirk. "Just sit here."

You didn't think twice; sat down on his offered position, swinging your legs to the side to completely lie on his lap and an arm around his neck for balance. Your face was inches away from his, so much so you could smell the alcohol in his breath, his hands instantly on your waist and hips to pull you close. But it felt so comfortable. Since the moment you met, you hadn't left each other's side, and you hadn't stopped touching. Touching as in holding hands while talking or pushing him while laughing, playing with your clothes or stroking each other's hair. It seemed like there was always an excuse, or, better yet, constantly a need to touch.

"Ugh!" he gagged when he took one sip of the drink you had brought right to his lips. "What is this shit?"

You giggled. "Tequila."

"Is it just tequila?"

You kept giggling. "Actually, we ran out of soft drinks so I mixed it with water."

His mouth dropped open and he started laughing, too. "Of course! Why wouldn't you!" His hands around your body squeezed you tighter and you had to squirm around, still a need to get even closer.

"It's not that bad," you proclaimed, then took a sip from the same straw and had your entire face scrunch up. "See?"

Taehyung had gotten serious, staring at you intensely, as he slowly brought the straw right on his tongue yet again. He took a generous gulp, then offered the drink to you, his eyes fixed on your lips and the way they wrapped around right where his had just been. His stare gave you goosebumps, and you pressed yourself even closer, your hip flushed right against his lower abdomen.

"You know I don't drink," he said in a whisper. He didn't need to speak louder, you were right there. "I'm only doing this for you."

"Well," you mumbled as your fingers ran through the back of his hair. "That makes two of us doing something we don't usually do tonight." And you meant it. You never did this; whatever this was. Sitting on a cute boy's lap that you had only met a couple of hours ago, ready to devour him with the first chance you got. And boy, would you devour him.

"We haven't done anything yet," Taehyung noted, his hand dipping between your legs to pinch your thing.

"Yet," you murmured, pressing even closer to him, feeling his erection grow against your hip.

Your eyes alone could communicate. And all they conveyed was the urgency to get out of there. The need to be alone. Your entire body burned with that need, or maybe it was the alcohol. With no words spoken, you both got up, holding hands not to get lost in the crowd, and searched in the apartment for an empty room. The bathroom was locked, the kitchen busy, one bedroom filled with boys playing video games and the other with smokers. Taehyung pulled you towards the exit; he wasn't about to let the moment escape him. He would get you in his car or even back to his place if he had to, just to get his hands properly on you.

But you didn't have time for that. You needed him right away. So you opened up that makeshift closet and shoved him inside. Space was limited and your bodies were naturally pressed together. The moment the door closed behind you, you realized how dark it was; the light switch being outside, forgotten. You felt his hands ran up your body, trying to blindly find your face with haste like he was being chased.

His lips found yours. And you indeed devoured each other. He had you pinned against the door and his fingers through your hair as he kissed you like a starved man. You know how first kisses almost always suck? How it takes a while to find the right rhythm, to lean into it just enough to match the other's technic? That was nothing like that. It was the best kiss you had ever had, it was so perfect and so right. The way his lips moved over your own and his tongue stroked you, it was like you had done this a million times already, or simply like you were made for each other.

Nothing could stop you now. Not even your common sense that would advise you against fucking just anyone in that tiny space, when everyone was still outside. But common sense had left you long ago. Your body was being controlled by an innate, animalistic hunger. And you moaned his name as you straddled his waist and let him suck hickeys into your neck. And you thought about how this is the best thing that had happened to you as you started taking off his belt.

You heard it again; a thump in the room. This time it was certainly not just in your head. You looked around -let's be honest- scared out of your mind because the last thing you needed right now was for something to be hidden in there with you.

"Tae?" you asked in a low voice, just in case he was playing a stupid prank on you. But you were met with silence.

Until it happened again, a louder tap, and this time you determined it was coming from the window. Slowly, while keeping your body as far away as you could, you got closer. You stared at the glass, trying to figure out why it was making that sound. Then you saw it; a small pebble clashing on the pane and disappearing just as fast. You opened it immediately and leaned outside.

"What the hell?" you shouted when you noticed the shadow-covered man standing in the garden under your room. "What are you doing down there?"

Taehyung tossed away the stones he had in his palms, straining his neck to look up at you. "I wanted to talk to you."

"And you thought -instead of just coming to my room- it'd be easier to walk downstairs, get outside and throw rocks at my window?"

"I thought you wouldn't let me in if I just knocked on your door," he explained.

You groaned. He wasn't wrong; you would have probably continued to hide away and avoid him. But he didn't have to be so dramatic about it. Well, not that you are one to talk. "Ugh, just- get your ass in here," you shouted back.

"You're gonna talk to me?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

You groaned again. "Yes!"

You saw Taehyung run inside as if he was afraid you would change your mind in the meantime. Perhaps you would. You really didn't want to talk to him. What would you even say? You had no excuse to give him, or no excuse you wanted him to know, anyway. All you wanted was to pretend he wasn't even there until morning came; then you could drive back home and go back to pretending you didn't even know each other.

"He is crazy," you mumbled to yourself as you decided you couldn't evade this anymore. "No, that man is certified insane!" you kept on complaining to no one as you opened your door and dashed away.

You ran into him in the middle of the staircase. Stood there, just a step away from him, with your arms folded over your chest, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.

"So?" you spat.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said in a whisper, a tone that sounded like he was guilty of something.

"Yes, I got that. You can talk now."

He looked down at your feet. "Here?"

You scoffed and moved past him, jogging down the stairs and taking a turn towards the kitchen. The boy followed you diligently. When you reached the room, you immediately grabbed a glass and filled it with water, chugging it down in one go and going for a second turn. You really wished this was something stronger, looking around to see if you could spot a bottle of some kind of liquor. You would need it if you were to have the conversation you thought you would.

"I have a confession to make," Taehyung announced after he decided the silence was enough.

You froze, the glass of water still against your lips, and you looked at him from the corner of your eyes. "Oh, please," you groaned but still couldn't move. "No more confessions from you."

He sighed, walking until he got right in front of you so that he could look you in the eyes for this. "I remember your party."

See, this is exactly what you feared the most. This...This conversation was what was making this place truly haunted for you.

"What?" you weakly breathed.

"Your... welcoming party? With Yoonji?" he continued. As if you didn't know what party he was talking about. "I remember everything about it."

"But-"

"I wasn't that drunk."

The glass hit the counter with such force, for a second you thought you had broken it in your grip. But it had just provided a loud noise as you gaped at the boy in front of you. What were you supposed to say, now? Where to start?

"You didn't even remember meeting me!" you called out.

"Yeah I- I lied."

The worst part wasn't that he was pretending he didn't know who you were. No, that was low-key genius and you would have done the exact same thing if you were quick enough to think of it when you found yourself in that sitting room, across the person you least wanted to see. The worst part was that you had believed it. You felt like such an idiot. You had believed it and thought it meant you could have a clean start.

3 years, 2 months, and 14 days ago at 1:44 am

You didn't want to stop, but you still did, when Taehyung's phone went off. When he pulled away, gasping for air and apologizing. You thought you were having a moment there, you know, a moment where no matter who was calling, it wasn't important enough to pick up. But he apparently didn't see it that way. He took one look at his screen and asked you to be quiet.

Maybe your eyes accidentally caught the pet name on his contact for a split second, or maybe it was the girly voice that came muffled from the speaker, but your head started spinning without warning. And the space was suddenly too small, and it was choking you. You found the knob before he realized what you were doing, and with your body weight on the door, you were launched outside; into the light that burned your eyes. A girl was standing on the other side of the hallway, looking at you with judgement in her eyes and her phone in her hands, then immediately averting her pretentious gaze. A hand tried to hold onto your shirt to keep you back, but you escaped.

You stumbled through the place, not sure where you were trying to go or who you were trying to find, solely trying to keep yourself up and not barf on the new carpet. You wanted to get away, but where could you go? You lived there. You heard Yoonji's laugh before you even saw her, sighing in relief when you spotted her in the kitchen and letting your body fall on hers.

"Baby, baby, everything alright?" your roommate called for you, but you just held onto her without a word. She tried to bear your weight as best as she could, holding onto the counter so that you wouldn't both plummet onto the floor.

Another hand rubbed your back. "Did you drink a little too much, Ames?" It was Jimin's sweet voice. You whined into your friend's neck before you pulled back to look at her boyfriend.

"Jimin, is Kim Taehyung your friend?" you asked him.

He frowned, a little confused as to how the conversation got there. "Ye- yeah. He's my best friend. You met him, right?"

"Yeah," Yoonji responded for you. "I saw them talking earlier."

You took a deep breath; everything seemed to be against you at that moment, even the air itself, and you were trying so hard to not crumble. "Does he have a girlfriend?" you dared ask, even though you thought you might vomit if you heard the answer.

"Who? Tae?" Yoonji mumbled. You nodded, and she gave you a smirk right away. "Ohh... Why do you ask, baby? You interested?"

You rolled your eyes as both of them started teasing you. "No," you tried to tell them.

"Why, was he flirting with you?"

"How does he get every girl like that?"

"No, guys-"

"I don't blame her. He's so hot."

"Hey! I'm right here!"

"Just answer the damn question!" you yelled at them, and they finally stopped. Jimin looked at you with the same frown again.

"He does," he said and everything that was spinning in the room stopped abruptly. "Sorry, love. I promise you'll be the first to know when they break up."

Everything was foggy, and you felt numb. So numb, there was absolutely no thought in your head. You barely noticed the couple turn their heads to the door, barely realized who it was they were looking at.

"No, thanks," you whispered to Jimin then and pulled Yoonji away. "Bathroom," you simply stated and she carefully took you there, avoiding successfully the boy that was the topic of your conversation. For the first time of the many, many more that followed. All those times you stayed clear of gatherings you knew he would be at. All those times you changed your way, left a coffee shop, stayed silently in a corner in places there was nowhere else to go. You never told Yoonji exactly why you didn't want to be in the same room with him again, but she was very supportive no matter what.

You weren't sure why, either. Whether it was your hurt ego, your high standards for the people surrounding you, or the shame you felt every time you met his eyes, you couldn't tell. One thing you knew for sure was how you vowed to never fall for that again. Not from Taehyung, and not from anyone else. No more hooking up with random fuck boys at parties. No more associating yourself with people you don't even value enough. Kim Taehyung was an asshole, and you didn't care what he did or who he did it with, but you would rather be caught dead than be caught with him ever again.

Yet there you were. With him.

You cleared your throat. "And you're telling me this now because...?"

The photographer frowned, mostly at himself, clenching his jaw and looking at the ground. "Well, because you kissed me and ran away as if your life depended on it. Thought it might have something to do with that."

"Right." You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding slightly as you tried to think of what to say. Truly, what could you say? There have been so many things torturing your mind, but you didn't know which of those would be worth saying aloud. "Okay," you simply mumbled. "Are we done then?"

You tried walking past him but he held you back. "Wait, wait, hold on. You promised we would talk."

You just looked at him with your eyes wide. "You said you had a confession to make. You made it. There’s nothing more to say about that."

"Yes, there is."

"Like what?"

Taehyung snorted, finally letting you go. "Like what your problem with me is!"

You released a bitter laugh. "I thought you said you remember everything about that night."

He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "It's been three years-"

"And you stay lying to me." He looked at you intensely but you didn't back down. You might not have wanted to have this conversation, but now that it was happening, you wouldn't cower one bit.

"Look," he started, taking a step closer. "What I did was wrong. Both to you and to my girlfriend. I understand, it was very shitty and I don't have any excuses. I'm not here to give you any excuses."

"Yeah, 'cause there is no excuse for such a thing," you bit back.

Taehyung sighed at your attitude, somewhat losing his patience, but continued. "Right," he mumbled through his teeth. "I told her what I did and we broke up. Actually, she forgave me and wanted to stay with me but I insisted on breaking up because I didn't want her to be in a relationship where I made such a mistake, I wanted her to find someone better."

You shrugged, folding your arms over your chest yet again and tapping your foot on the floor. "Alright. Good for her. What do you want, a cookie?"

"No-"

"You really did less than the minimum, there, buddy. I don't know what you want from me right now."

"I- nothing!"

"Then why are you telling me this?"

He paused, opening and closing his mouth again, clearly not knowing how to reply. Maybe he expected a different reaction, or maybe he was nervous and it all translated into a type of irritation, but he was starting to look angry. "Because!" he said in a louder tone. "Because you keep treating me like that, you're acting like I'm this huge asshole, and I get it- first impressions are hard to change, but I'm not! I'm not that asshole you've made me out to be and quite frankly it's starting to get pretty annoying."

You chuckled. What else were you supposed to do? You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Excuse me, but I have the right to believe anything I want about you. If I have a certain idea of who you are and it's not affecting you in any way, then what's the problem?" You saw Taehyung roll his eyes and turn away, his hands on his hips as he shook his head and sighed. "If I think what you did is bad enough for me to never change my mind about you, then that's my opinion."

He was mumbling his words out, not being able to form a sentence long enough for it to make sense. "But that's- you-" He kept grunting and shaking his head at you until he finally spoke up. "Three years!" he announced. "It's been three years, Amy, and you're still punishing me for this. Alright, it's your opinion to determine the gravity of it, but don't tell me it doesn't affect me. Not when you've been avoiding me for three years."

"I haven't-" you tried to lie.

But he knew better than that. "Yes, you have. Every time I wanted to come along with my friends, something always came up and you'd bail. You didn't even show up at Jimin's birthday for crying aloud! Because you knew I'd be there. And I wanted to talk to you, apologize to you. I liked you and wanted to make this right and you never gave me the chance." He took a deep breath after having given his monologue in a haste, almost like he was scared his words would bail, too, if he wasn't quick enough. "And then you're wondering why I pretended I didn't remember you?" You blinked at him when you realized he was waiting for an answer. You had none to give him. "What was I supposed to do, huh? What could I have done that wouldn't have resulted in you getting back in that car and driving away?"

You stayed silent, looking at him through your lashes, then averting your gaze again. You sniffed your nose a couple of times as you were trying to get your thoughts straight. Kicked the floor once or twice as you felt your body squirm under his stare; he wouldn't relieve you from the scrutiny. "I..." you finally mumbled. "I'm not interested in reconciling with you." You gulped but noticed his stance and expression didn't change at all. Like he expected those words. "I'm sorry if that's what you wanted to do, and that I prevented you from even trying. But I won't change my mind about this."

He licked his lips, looking at you with a serious frown, then simply said: "Why?"

Why was he even asking? Was it not obvious? "Look, I simply don't like people who do things like these. I don't want them as boyfriends, or friends, or anything. Nothing personal."

"But that's what I'm trying to say!" he insisted. "I'm not like that." He came close, so close his face was hovering above yours merely inches away, staring into your eyes with a sort of urgency. An urgency for you to understand him. "I'm not normally like that. That night... I don't know. That night was an exception. I really don't want to give you cliché excuses, but I thought you knew. I thought you felt it, too. I'm not crazy, right? There was something there that you felt, too?"

You gulped again, looking him up and down with fire all over your face. Because you knew instantly what he meant. But it had to take a few moments for it to actually sink in. That it wasn't just you. And that he, too, was unable to keep his hands from you that night. It certainly didn't justify his actions or lessen your disdain for him. But at least it felt a tiny bit good to know that you weren't just a naive little girl who had fallen for the pretty boy's trick, just like dozens of others.

"That still doesn't explain..." you started saying, keeping your opinion openly still the same, yet not denying his words.

"I know it doesn't!" he was quick to say. His eyes traveled all over your face, the tone of his voice having calmed a bit. "It was very douchy of me and I don't expect to be forgiven for it. Which is why I didn't stay with that girl." You jumped slightly when you felt his hands land on your arms. But you didn't pull away. "But I don't understand why you have to be so harsh on me. It's been three years, and this is still obviously bothering you. You haven't let it go even a little bit."

You looked away, taking a step back, but he quickly made up for it. "It doesn't bother me," you said, tongue in cheek.

"Well, it clearly does," he insisted. "When you are cold to me one moment, kissing me the next, and then running away like I hurt you."

"You did hurt me."

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Before you even knew what you were saying yourself. He hurt you. You had never admitted that before. Always blaming your anger and aversion to him on your morals or whatever. Yet that was the true reason you didn’t want to see him, and you didn’t want to talk to him, and definitely not kiss him again.

Taehyung paused, taking a deep breath. He leaned nearer as he looked down at your lips as whispered. “I know,” he said in a sweet voice as if to reassure you. “I know.” That meant you weren’t crazy. “But why is it still hurting you now?” You tensed up at his question. “Why do you care -about me- so much that this is, to this day, an open wound?”

You scoffed. But you couldn't say anything. You tried pushing him away, and for a moment he let you, but then he was right in front of you again. Even closer, perhaps. “What are you…?” you murmured, looking quite lost. Especially with the close proximity that was driving your mind into a frenzy.

“Do you still like me?” he asked, straightforward.

“No!” you called immediately. But he didn’t seem convinced, raising an eyebrow at you. "I’m not still hurt. I just… I told you. I simply don't want anything to do with someone like you. So it's fine when you keep your distance, but it's not fine when you kiss me. I said I don't want- ."

"Yeah, yeah, you don't want a boyfriend nor a friend like me," he interrupted you to finish your sentence. "Not that I ever offered to be either of those."

Your cheeks flushed and you looked away immediately so as not to get caught. "I- I didn't say I wanted you to."

Taehyung chuckled. The sound almost scared you more than when he was shouting earlier. Because you knew a casual, flirty Taehyung was always more dangerous. "You know, you kissed me!" he reminded you.

Your mouth dropped in a dramatic way. "You seduced me into kissing you!" you complained.

And the boy laughed even harder. "Seduced? Is that your way of saying you couldn't resist me?"

You tried to fight back at his remarks that clearly only served the role of firing you up -whether that was with anger or something else, you weren't sure. And then he had the audacity to wonder why you still didn't like him? But your voice cracked, as you backed until your body hit the kitchen counter and your hands held the edge tight. "Is not!" you managed to get out.

Taehyung’s arms trapped you in that counter, his hands holding onto it on either side of your body until you were caged between them, as he leaned even closer, standing one breath away and staring at you with a smirk on his lips. It was clear then, he wasn’t trying to talk anymore.

“C’mon,” he rasped, a voice so low that it vibrated in frequencies hard to hear. “I know you can’t resist me. You couldn’t do it three years ago and you can’t do it now.”

Your palms hit his chest, trying to push him away from you as you breathed heavily, hearing your own heartbeat in your head and feeling your control slipping through your fingers. But you still couldn’t form any words. Your brain had shut down when it came to that. Just spinning around as Taehyung kept getting closer. What the hell was he trying to do?

"I'm just saying… There is no one here to judge you for it. No one will know you went against your morals," he purred, a hand leaving your side briefly to swipe your hair off your shoulder and caress your neck in the process. The contact made your palms clench into fists, his shirt pooling under your grip. And there were two ways you could go about this; either push or pull him.

“Tae…”

“Go on then,” he said in a teasing tone. “Show me how much you hate me, princess. How you despise me and everything I stand for. Resist me.”

You did hate him. And you hated being proven wrong. So, those two together should result in you pushing him away and going to your room. Right? You should resist that man, it couldn’t be so hard, anyway. So tell me why the way he was looking at you made your knees buck? Why his words filled your stomach with butterflies, his scent numbed your brain like a hallucinogen? Why you couldn’t resist him.

Tell me why you pulled him in by the shirt.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around yours. Didn’t waste any time to hold you by the waist and press his body on yours. This was the third chance he was given for this and he was about to make it work. And he seemed to have been waiting for it. He already knew what to do, how to hold you, how to kiss you in order to make you moan in his mouth. It was the party scene all over again; as in, you were devouring each other in a sort of urgency, bumping your lips together like you were drunk and had just found the person you were feeling the craziest chemistry with, grinding on each other as if you were trying to merge together.

And maybe he was right; you could never resist him.

Your fingers dipped into his soft locks and he moaned your name. He snaked his arms under your thighs to push you up, letting you sit at the edge of the counter. He immediately filled in the gap between your legs, hands rubbing up and down your back, while you started kissing down his neck, making sure to mark him as if he was yours. He hissed and growled every time you bit him, riding your shirt up to get a feel of your skin underneath. Then finding your hands, intertwining your fingers together, and pushing them past your body, almost like he was trying to confine them away from him. And you hated not being able to touch him, hated how he pushed your body back to have you almost lay on the counter completely, and you couldn’t move. Because you wanted more.

And maybe he was right; no one would ever know about this. So perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to do this. This mistake. Taehyung.

“Princess, if you plan on regretting this and running away again, you better tell me now,” he rasped while kissing your collarbone. “I might not stop later.”

He was giving you an out. And normally you would have taken it. But at that moment the only thing busying your mind was that implied promise of what was to come.

“You better not,” you mumbled, more to yourself, but heard him chuckle when he heard it, too.

His hands clenched harder around yours before he released you in favor of grabbing your ass and your thighs. He squeezed you close, pulling you until your crotch was rubbing against his clear erection under his pants, and all you could do was whimper. Still kissing his neck, that sweet spot under his ear, biting his lob, and hearing him grunt at the way you were making him feel. Your hands, free now, could run up his toned arms and enjoy his body like you wanted to for a while.

He pulled his head slightly back to look into your eyes. His seemed so unfocused, so dark, like he had gotten high from you. “You want me to make you feel good?” he asked with a smirk. You weren’t sure if he was asking for permission or just building the anticipation.

“Can you?” No, you weren’t making a plea. You were questioning his skills. And he picked it up from your tone immediately.

“Can I?” he snorted, his eyes turning to the ceiling before he let his fingers slowly and very slightly brush your naked belly, moving further down. Your entire body squirmed with the rhythm of his fingertips. “You shiver every time I touch you. So, yeah, I think I can do anything I want to you.”

You immediately punched his chest, pushing him away. “God, I hate you.”

But his smug smirk wouldn’t back down. And he wouldn’t let go of you. “We have already established that,” he murmured, as he lowered his head down- and farther down- until it was right in front of the fly of your pants. And your stomach was sucked in the entire time, your whole body, actually, as if you were trying to take up less space. As if you were trying to pull away from him, even though at the same time you could feel your lower half burning from want, and your lips were already missing his.

But then he looked up at you too, as he was bent down there in front of your crotch, to stare into your eyes through his lashes with a hotshot grin and his tongue between his teeth; and you forgot how to breathe. And then he unbuttoned you with his mouth, biting the zipper and pulling it down slow enough for you to feel every vibration on your body, without ever breaking eye contact; and you thought your soul left your body.

He was back at his normal height, pushing your pants down while licking his lips and examining your face. “Alright, princess,” he spoke in a low tone. “I will give you my best, on one condition.” The pants were completely off and he was working on your unimpressive underwear next. “Every time I do make you feel good, you have to say my name.”

He had gotten you all naked from your waist down, yet he still hadn’t even glanced there; kept his eyes stubbornly on yours. But when you tried to press your legs together, feeling shy and exposed, he was holding them tight. “That’s your condition?” you wondered, not seeming too hard to do. You were probably going to do it anyway.

He leaned down, keeping his lips close enough to rub on yours when he spoke. “Yes. Every time. I want you to keep reminding yourself who it is that is making you feel this way.” When he kissed you, it worked almost as a distraction to how one hand crept in between your thighs and pressed around your folds, yet avoiding the place you needed him to touch.

His lips moved at the same rhythm as his fingers, his tongue slipping in your mouth right as he finally moved them closer, getting them all dirty with your wetness. Index and middle finger rubbing up and down, brushing against your clit and over your opening but never giving into either. You hummed in frustration as you bit down on his bottom lip, your hips trying to move forward, trying to get more.

“What did I tell you?” he whispered, increasing his pressure on your clit just for a moment, a moment long enough to make you gasp with your mouth open over his.

“Tae…” you breathed.

“Say it,” he insisted.

“Taehyung,” you moaned, closing your eyes as he started moving his fingers in circles over the sensitive bud like a reward.

“You’re so wet, already,” he observed, something quite obvious from the sounds the simple movement was creating. “Is that all for me?” He pulled his head back to watch your reaction better, smiling when he saw you nodding. “Good girl,” he purred, rewarding you yet again with sliding one finger easily inside.

"Oh,” you moaned, your body immediately arching towards his. You still needed more. The better it all felt, the more you wanted from him.

The photographer inhaled sharply through his teeth, stilling his actions. “Amy, what did we say?”

“Taehyung,” you immediately obeyed. And you didn’t need to be told twice. “Taehyung,” you moaned, again and again, as he worked his magic into you. As he kissed you in that way no one had ever been able to replicate. “Taehyung,” as he pushed a second finger in to stretch you out. “Taehyung,” as he found your g-spot and massaged it softly as if he was working with something fragile. “Taehyung, Taehyung,” as he made you come, once, twice, thrice. With his fingers inside you, on your clit, his mouth french-kissing your pussy, his tongue dipping in and out as he lapped at your juices.

All while you had to make yourself think of who exactly was fucking you like that. Who was making your legs shake, your head spin, your sight and hearing unclear. Whose hair you were pulling, whose teeth you had marks of on your thighs, whose name you were screaming.

Kim Taehyung.

Next Chapter

[katefiction]

Hey everyone, when I finished writing Will and Kate nearly 7 years ago now, I felt like there really wasn't anything else I could say about them. And that's still true to an extent. A gave me the request/idea of writing something based on folklore/evermore and I love those albums as much as everyone else. They are incredibly inspiring and made me want to write. But I still didn't know how to make those into a William and Kate story. Until I realised that they didn't have to just be a William and Kate story. For that reason, I've written this without names. When writing it, I was thinking of them some of the time, and fictional characters some of the time. I wasn't going to tell you that because I didn't want people to not read it because of that. In the end I decided to be honest. You can use William and Kate as the characters, but equally you don't have to.

This story imagines what would happen if this couple had been apart for a few years and reunite for a weekend. It's based on 'tis the damn season. I really hope you enjoy and would love to know what you think.

Love, Maria x

Chapter 1 : You can call me babe for the weekend

In a small cottage covered in ivy, she stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil. Her hand twitched on the counter as she tried to resist the urge to look at her phone again.

Two days previously, she received a text that had made her heart lurch.

I’m in the area in a couple of days, can I come and see you?, it had said. Short and straight to the point. He hadn’t changed in that regard at least.

She had taken a few hours to reply. Of course she wanted to see him - partly out of sheer curiosity. But it had been three years since they’d last seen each other. And the decision to end things hadn’t been easy.

Eventually, after a few hours deliberation, she had replied with the address of the place that had become her sanctuary. And now she waited.

She poured the boiled water into a mug, added a tea bag and cupped her hands around it. She looked over to the old grandfather clock in the corner of the living room. In half an hour he would be here and she still hadn’t decided what to say to him. Or how to act. Instead of thinking about that, she had busied herself with cleaning the cottage top to bottom until there was not a speck of dirt left to wipe away.

She took her tea upstairs, each step creaking as she went. In her bedroom, she opened her wardrobe. Sitting down on the bed, she stared at the rows of clothes hanging up waiting to be chosen. None of them seemed to convey what she wanted to say.

I’m fine without you.

I still want you to find me pretty.

I don’t care what you think.

No piece of clothing could express that ridiculous combination of feelings. She got up and sighed, looking out of the window. It was 7.45pm now and already dark. The trees outside her cottage swung in the wind, the branches tapping against the window.

Going back to the wardrobe, she closed her eyes and ran her hand along the row of her clothes and pulled one out at random. It was a deep maroon knitted jumper dress.

‘That’ll do’ she said out loud.

Earlier in the day she had decided that she wouldn’t wear any make up. Why should she? But now, looking in the mirror, her face seemed tired and lifeless.

She grabbed some eyeliner out of the drawer and applied a wing onto her eyelids. A curl and a dab of vaseline on her eyelashes, and tint on cheeks and lips made her feel slightly more presentable.

She glanced over at the clock on her bedside table. 7.56pm. He wasn’t usually late. She took her mug downstairs and placed it in the sink, considering washing it to pass the time.

It was then she saw the headlights trail through the kitchen window. Taking a deep breath, she paced the kitchen listening to the sound of the engine switching off and the car door opening and closing. The crunch of his footsteps on the gravel path came closer until finally there was a soft tap at her front door.

*

He was the same as she’d always known him. Strong arms with the sleeves rolled up, piercing eyes that saw right through her.

‘Can I come in?’ he said. She suddenly realised that she hadn’t heard his voice in three years. She hadn't thought she’d missed it until right then.

‘Oh, yeah, come through’ she said, stepping aside.

He had to bend slightly to fit under the doorway. ‘Made for short people’, he said as he closed the door behind him.

‘It’s good to see you’ he said, those eyes surveying her.

‘You too’ she said. ‘Do you want a drink?’.

‘Sure’ he followed her to the kitchen, looking around at the tiny ground floor. A fire crackled under the living room mantlepiece, and cushions and throws were scattered around. ‘Lovely place, very you’.

She grabbed some white wine from the fridge without asking him what he wanted and poured out two glasses.

He took it gratefully and they sipped in an awkward silence. The grandfather clock ticked loudly and he walked over to look at it. Presumably just as something to do.

She followed him into the living room and sat down on the couch, her knees tucked under her. She moved a few cushions around to make space for him, placing one on her lap for comfort. He sat on the other side of it, sinking into it.

‘So why did you text me?’ she said, stroking the stem of her glass, faking nonchalance.

‘I told you, I was in the area’.

‘This isn’t really an area people come to visit’. She looked out of the living room window behind them. Although it was dark, he knew what she was referring to. She lived in a small village technically, but her cottage lay in a secluded area surrounded by woodland.

She had moved here three years ago as an escape and she loved it. It was just cut off enough to be peaceful, but not so far that she didn’t have people to turn to when she needed them.

‘Ok, the surrounding area’ he smiled. ‘The truth is I’ve been thinking about you recently’.

‘I’m sure you have much more interesting things to think about’ she said, looking into her glass to avoid eye contact.

‘Anyway...how have you been?’ he said, changing tack.

‘We don't have to do that’, it pained her to have small talk with him when they used to sit in such comfortable silence.

‘Do what?’ he looked genuinely confused and it occurred to her that maybe he couldn’t read her so easily any more.

‘The small talk thing, you can just tell me why you’re here’.

‘Ok’ he pulled in his lips like he always did when he was thinking about what to say, ‘well, the truth is I was coming to this side of the country for work and I wanted to see you’.

She smiled for the first time that night, ‘this side of the country?’

‘Yes, well I realise I might have come a bit out of my way’.

They paused and looked at each other. Their old dynamic started to shift back into place. The light teasing, the subtle looks.

‘Anyway’ he continued. ‘I guess I just wanted to see if you were ok. I never liked how things ended, you know that’.

Their break up was business-like. When she decided it was over, there were no more tears and arguments. Just a simple acceptance. She had packed her bags, wished him well out of courtesy and built a wall so high that not even he could break it. It had frustrated him to the point of madness. She refused to hug him goodbye. She didn’t even tell him she was moving away.

‘It’s what I needed to do’, she said, holding the cushion closer to her.

‘And now?’ he said, hope etched on his face.

‘Now...nothing. We’ve moved on. There’s no point in reliving it’

‘Have you...moved on with someone?’ he asked.

‘I didn’t mean it like that’ she got up and poured more wine into her glass even though it wasn’t empty.

‘Would you hate me if I said I was happy about that? I was dreading you telling me you had found someone’.

Her heart skipped, realising he was right behind her. She didn’t turn, not wanting his eyes on her.

‘I could never hate you’ she said quietly.

‘I’m not with anyone either, I broke up someone a few months ago, she was -’

‘If I wanted to know who you were hanging out with, I would’ve asked’, she said, breaking him off. When she was uncomfortable, she became curt. He knew that, and he would always challenge her on it by refusing to take offence.

She felt him come closer to her, ‘I’ve missed you’.

It was the words she’d dreaded. ‘Don’t say that’, she replied, tightening the cap on the wine bottle as hard as she could.

‘Why not, it’s the truth’, he placed his glass on the counter. Clearly he was done with the niceties.

‘If you’ve come here to try and mess with my head, don’t bother’, she moved past him and put the wine bottle back in the fridge.

‘Why on earth would I do that?’ he said, trying not to fall for her favoured method of pushing him away.

‘I don’t know, you said you’d broken up with someone, maybe you’re lonely’.

‘I told you, I miss you and wanted to see you. If I was lonely, I could go elsewhere’.

She couldn't help but laugh at his arrogance.

He ran his hand through his hair, ‘how has this turned into an argument?’.

‘We’re not having an argument’, she said plainly.

‘Yes we are, and stop pretending that you don’t care’.

So he could still see through her after all.

The wind was picking up now, battering the branches harder against the cottage. They both knew there was nothing more to say. That they’d just go around in circles if they continued to talk. And she wouldn’t give him an inch.

Instead, they did what they knew they would as soon as he sent that text. What she knew would happen as she applied the colour to her lips earlier.

He reached out and pulled her in by the waist and she clutched at the fabric of his shirt at his stomach. When their lips met, she felt it all over her body. The ache of the last three years passing between them.

*

They lay tangled together in bed staring at the ceiling.

‘Are you ok?’ he said.

‘Yeah’, she turned to look at him. ‘Are you?’

‘Very much so’ he laughed softly, ‘I’ve missed you’.

‘You’ve said that already’, she teased.

‘I thought you might believe it this time’, he placed his hand over hers on the bed covers.

‘This can’t be, you know, a thing again’ she said carefully.

‘I know’, he said. ‘Not much has changed in my life, I didn’t expect to come here and take you home’.

‘Do you ever wonder why we never could make it work?’ she asked him, letting him play with her fingers.

‘Yes...and no. I knew you didn’t want the life I had to offer but I couldn't let you go. If I had stopped it earlier on, it would’ve saved us a lot of hassle’, he looked at the ceiling again as he remembered the two years they had together.

They had been happy, when it was just them. But it would never be just them and they both knew it. He was relentless in finding new ways to keep her close until he couldn’t anymore. Time alone became harder to find and the longer they went on believing they could be a normal couple, the less realistic it became. Eventually, after two months apart, she put an end to it. And she ran as far as she could. She knew he would try to maintain contact so she cut herself off from everyone they knew and stopped taking his calls. It had worked, for three years at least.

‘Do you want me to go?’ he asked, knowing that she would ask him to at some point.

She turned and rested her head on his shoulder, ‘not if you don’t want to’.

‘You know I don’t want to’, he placed his arm above her head and ran his fingers through her hair.

‘Stay...for a day or so if you want to’ she kissed him on the shoulder.

‘I can stay for the weekend’ he said.

She closed her eyes, knowing this would only end in heartache. ‘Then I’ll be yours for the weekend’.

*

The weekend was spent basked in the kind of peace they’d never find in the city. They took long walks around the woods, hand in hand. She pointed out the plants and wildlife and he soaked up every word.

In the afternoon, they just drove around the winding lanes, the mud covering his tyres. Sometimes they would talk, but never about the past, reluctant to let it in. At other times they’d drive in silence, her hand on his knee. Soon enough they’d get back to the cottage, restraining themselves until they shut the cottage door.

Inevitably, they’d end up warm and content under the covers, watching the autumn leaves flutter past her bedroom window and sleeping for the rest of the day.

Afterwards, they’d cook together and drink wine on the rug in front of the fire, her legs laying on top of his, talking about everything and nothing.

But time couldn’t stop for them and as she sat in bed watching him button up his shirt, that ache filled her again. It was an ache he too had in him, put there by her.

‘Am I going to see you again?’ he asked as he tucked in his shirt.

She put on a smile even though she knew he would sense it was a fake one, ‘maybe one day...just promise me something?’

He looked at her wrapped in the covers wanting nothing more to climb back into that warm bed.

‘Don’t wait for me’ she continued.

He bowed his head, looking at the floor, clearing his throat, ‘then don’t ask me to stay’.

She nodded silently.

He knelt on the bed and kissed her on the forehead, taking in the smell of her one last time.

‘I’ll see you out’ she said, running her hand over his forearm.

‘No stay here. It’s better like this’. He got up and opened the bedroom door, taking one last glance at her.

Somehow he knew, whatever road he went down, it would always lead back to her.

The end.

[xhanisai]

SALTING AROUND AT THE SPEED OF SOUND

AO3 / FFN

Summary: Introducing!!!!

The! Ultimate! Salt! Fic! Ever! IN ZA WARUDO!

Featuring Dumb Noir getting taught a lesson about boundaries, Perfectnette getting friends and love interest(s), and LILA GETTING HER ASS HANDED BACK! HOW COULD YOU RESIST SUCH A WONDERFUL FIC?

(All in all, a crack fic on salt fics to bring our spirits up~)

Disclaimer - I've actually only read like one sentence of a salt fic and fucked off afterwards so everything I'm basing off in this fic is purely from exaggerated rumours and gossip about the salt corner THEREFORE if anything here looks familiar or if it seems like I'm taking the piss out of a specific story, it's all just one big coincidence. >:D ~(x)~ . . . Of all locations to settle on for the beginning of this amazing, wonderful, fucking fantastic story, it's established on the Eiffel Tower. Cliched but wonderfully ironic for the phenomenal heroes of Paris. On the beams, higher than the naked eye could see, Ladybug and Chat Noir were... Arguing. The feline hero had his partner's wrist clasped in an iron hold, digging those deadly claws ever so slightly into the soft flesh, piercing the supposed indestructible suit with a creepy grin- "Wait- hold up a second. I would never, NEVER hurt My Lady! Not even unintentionally! And what's with that face I'm making!?" Oh SHUT UP Shit Noir! Let me carry on writing my fucking story jeez! Stop breaking out of character and keep following the script! Anyways~ The skinny, pasty assed hero- "This script sucks..."- -TUGGED Ladybug closer to him, grin widening like he won the lottery as his demonic looking eyes perversely drank in the sight of the clearly uncomfortable looking heroine in his grasps. His face leaned into hers, only coming closer as she tried her best to lean back with a grimace. "Just one kiss Bugaboo~ one kiss won't hurt..." His grip tightened on the appendage, making the girl wince painfully. "Come on Chat Noir...let go! I have already told you, I'm in love with someone else. You seriously need to back off!" Ladybug whimpered, tossing away all her badassery and ability to suckerpunch a fuckboy in the face because hell yeah it ain't relevant to this sexy fic- "You're right Chaton, this script does suck lmao"- IGNORING WHAT THE CANON LB JUST SAID. Ehem. Like a defenseless little shoujou manga protagonist, Ladybug felt tears sparkle in her eyes and pure sadness washed over her frail body before Fuck Noir dipped her into a romantic pose and smashed his lips against hers with soooooo much passion and tongue and teeth and- . What. On. Earth. Oi you stupid cat! Watch where you're putting your hands on the girl! Yikes! What do they teach these Europeans!? Break it up already you hormone riddled boobs! "Oh Minou~ You're so daring~" "Just for you, My Lady~" STAY ON SCRIPT YOU BRATS! Hmph! Carrying on. Suddenly, herculean strength riddled through Ladybug's blood, falcon punching Bitch Noir off her and off the tower, thus HenchBug™ was born. Panting and wiping her lip with her thumb in a really really badass way (YOU KNOW THAT EPIC WAY THAT ANIME CHARACTERS DO TO WIPE THE BLOOD OFF THEIR LIP, RIGHT? RIGHT? ex deeeee), MachoBug swept towards Pussy Noir's broken twiggy body at the bottom of the tower. "You disobeyed me for the umpteenth time, Noir." BadassBug uttered cooly, keeping a blind eye to the growing crowd around her and the mangled up flesh on sticks at her feet. The black and yellow mess didn't respond. "Lo-oooool cos I'm dead!" WE'LL PRETEND WE DIDN'T HEAR THAT EITHER. Anger coursed through Ladybug's veins as all those traumatising memories and moments she had with her horrific partner flashed through her brain like an old window's movie maker AMV with Evanescence's 'Bring Me Back To Life' song blasting at full volume. The conveniently arrived Alya at the front of the crowd live streamed everything on the WadyBwog, babbling about ice cream scoops. "Every time we met up, you'd always make unwanted advances to me. You'd always force a kiss on me. You even slapped my thicc™ ass a few times- once to the beat of fucking Nyan cat!" The hive minded crowd surrounding them 'oooed' and 'aaahed', some snapped a selfie with what's left of the black cat. "Therefore," The sun auspiciously shone behind MariBug, giving her an ethereal, angelic look as she carried on her lecture. "I now deem you unworthy of the miraculous." BugBug fluttered her eyelashes with so much pain as if reciting those words killed her whole generation and their dogs and their hamsters. "Hand it over to me or else I'll force it off you." All of a sudden BuffBug™ was back, bitch slapping CryBabyBug away and menacingly placed one foot on the carcass.   "Wow I think she forgot that you're dead Chat Noir," THE HIGH TENSIONED MOMENT REMAINED UNBROKEN AS FAKEBUG- oof- Ladybug rolled her eyes with annoyance at the disgusting boy's silence and immediately knelt down to yank the miraculous off his bony fingers- "Never!" The catboy sprung back to life before anyone could breathe, clutching his hand to guard his ring ferally, froth seeping out of his teeth and fangs gnashing against one another- "Looks like I'm a vampire with rabies now, Bug." "Since when did you have fangs?" "Since two seconds ago-" OH MY GOD YOU TWO! SHUT UP AND LET ME WRITE! Zombie Noir leapt back with a hiss, faux ears and tail twitching with indignation and summoned the ancient destruction power whilst BossBug spun her yoyo around in battle formation, ready to call for her lucky charm anytime soon. Cat and Bug kept up the intense eye contact as that cowboy music from the good, the bad and the fugly played in the background (cheers Lahiffe mah d00d!). "You don't want to become my enemy, do you, Chat N00b?" The heroine spat, bones clicking in place as she stretched her fingers when she and the lad in black circled each other slowly. The crowd and Alya were casually chilling in the background, the latter still narrating about an epic ice cream scoop. "Heh, I won't need to be the enemy if you don't touch MY ring... Milady~"- "MON DIEU! C'EST 'MY LADY'! C'EST N'AI PAS 'MILADY'!" THAT'S THE POINT YOU STUPID CAT! Break out of character one more time and I'll castrate you and feed your teeny tiny *censored* to the dogs! "...My Lady? Is my *censored* small? :(" "If your *censored* was small, you'd never have been able to make me scream at night, Minou~ ;3" ":D" 

Regardless! The pussycat feinted to the left before dodging the razor sharp wire of his Lady's (not) yoyo, whipping out his baton (not the tiny one either) and swiftly used it to vault himself away like the coward he CLEARLY is. "You'll never get me alive, THOT!" Was the last thing that small dick energy minded cuck yowled and fled with his tail between his legs. BigBug let out a yell of rage™ and slammed her fist on the ground, branding the sloppy concrete job with a crater as the shockwaves caused the audience to let out a little 'DAYUMMMMMMMM'. "Lol I thought the geezer was dead hahaah! Yo Ladybuggy, mah homie, you and kitty cat did the shame shame already or nah?" Alya, the lil hoe, leant into the heroine's personal space with a crazed grin. She only received a middle finger from the annoyed Asian. (MMmm Mmmm yEAH YEAh trANSiTION so SEXYYYY) Now, it is conveniently time for Marinette's afternoon classes. The exhausted girl dragged her feet up those weird ass spirally steps that could break ankles JUST by looking at them and made it to her classroom, only to pause at the shouting she was hearing behind the door. "Oh boy, time to unleash the kraken..." Silence Adrien! You're not supposed to have appeared yet! Dumb ass blondes these days smh... "HEY! >:0" With a deep breath, the raven haired girl pushed the door open only to be met with what could be best described as a clusterfuck. Tears welled up in her eyes as the remains of her sketchbook (which looked like it had a trip in a paper shredder) was dumped all over the floor. She snapped her head back up only for her heart to literally shatter when she was met with a furious Alya Motherfuckin' Césaire. "Marinetti DupainGhetti. This. Is. Your. Punishment." Alya's glasses flashed sinisterly as her lips curled up into  d i s g u s t . The rest of the class mirrored a similar look, acting as if poor little Cheng vored everything they loved and cherished. All except two people. That witch BITCH Lie-la smirked secretly as she cowered behind Alya and the wimp, spineless little shitty Dumbdrien whimpered on his desk, pretending that nothing was happening. "P-P-Punishment for wh-what?" Babynette sobbed, clutching her shoulders as if to hug herself and make her look smaller than she is. She darted her eyes towards the model, begging him internally to say something, anything! Alas, Bitchdrien only looked away guiltily, his thin chapped lips sealed shut. Marinette couldn't believe her bad luck. First there was an akuma attack, then she was assaulted by her shitty partner for the millionth time and now this? "Punishment for bullying our lord and saviour, Lila of course! How dare you make such a sweet girl like her suffer!?" Alya roared, using the power of the seven chaos emeralds and twenty dragonballs to go super satan and pinned Sweetienette against the wall with an elbow. Her hair fizzed with animosity and her eyes gleamed in a demonic red colour- "Dieu...you just had to drag my best friend into this too, huh?" "You'd think this writer is sane enough to know that I'd cataclysm anyone that dared to harm Ma Princesse, non?" "The writer? Sane? Good joke."- IGNORING STUPIDNETTE AND BLOODYDRIEN- Alya snarled, bruising our sweet little angel's poor skin with her brute strength whilst the rest of the class watched without a question. The sausage haired wench munched on some greasy ass popcorn as she watched the show whilst Shamedrien became one with the floor, a perfect doormat for us queens to stomp on. "You tripped her all the time when no one was watching, aggravating her shattered kneecaps. You plagerised her designs, ruining what's left of her sensitive self esteem and dammit don't even get me started on all those rumours you attempted to spread about her, smearing her celebrity status! I've never hated anyone more than you, BITCHINETTE!" Alya harrumphed and then shoved Brokenette against the wall again, possibly snapping her spine and stormed back to her new bestie. "Mon Dieu your best friend just murdered you..." "Mon Dieu my best friend just murdered me..." Tosses a knife at the duo to make them shut the fuck up. Everyone else applauded the psycho journalist for putting Poornette in her place, even Stinkdrien cos he can't handle peer pressure- BAM! . . . "HOW DARE YOU HURT MARINETTE DUPAIN CHENG!" A tall, stern looking boy slammed the door open, scooping Deadinette in his arms and blew out steam through his nostrils like a bull. Everyone le gasped as the girl suddenly turned into Alivenette and embraced the stranger like he's her long lost lover (Aiyeeeeeeeeeeee mUH O-T-FUCKING-P! K Y A A  A! EVEN THOUGH WE KNOW JACKSHIT ABOUT HIM). "BELIX BRAGRESTE! You saved me~ Don't hurt my homiesexuals please- they're all brainwashed by the sausage haired girl..." The blackberry haired angel begged, tugging on Belix's sleeves. "I didn't do anything-" Uglydrien was quick to defend himself only to melt back down into a doormat by Belix's dark glare, ripping out what spinal tissue the model had left. "Damn straight you didn't do SHIT." Bragreste swiftly delivered a power-kick against Assgreste, yeeting him to the moon and then turned towards the rest of the f00king class, rolling his sleeves up. "As for you nerds...I'm gonna chop you all up into mincemeat and EAT you all with my spaghetti!-" "I'm here Marinette!!!" Another lad swooped in through the door, hips swaying to the beat as 'Luka Luka Night Fever' plays in the background and then posed! Why it's none other than the obviously best written, best character, best BOY in the world: RUKA COFFEE- sorry, I mean Luka Couffaine! He strummed his guitar a few times, nodding and humming as if he was conversing with the beautiful instrument whilst bokeh dots and pink sparkly glitter floated around him. "Ah~ my guitar said that everyone's being a bitch ass motherfucker to our beautiful designer! Come with my Mari~ Take my hand and I'll take you away from this school!" The lycee student didn't wait for her answer and grabbed the star struck girl oh SO romantically~ "No! She should move schools with me!" Belix Bananagreste snatched Nettie back possessively, just like a cat. It was then that the girl decided that when she managed to snatch the black cat miraculous back from the loser that currently wielded it, she was going to give it to Belix- "Ugh don't fuck with me..." "Shhh. You're supposed to have been yeeted to the moon, Chaton," "Marinette please just throttle the writer already-" AND THEN! SUDDENLY! Erm... Errr... AHA! Suddenly all these people from some furry superhero universe came flooding in through the door, yelling insults and real truths about LIE-LA and protecting my best girl Maribear like a boss! Heroes like Gamien and Dason Bob and that guy and err, the other guy and yeah AND THEN they all began to BEAT UP that BITCH LILA and then- "Oh no she's losing it, Adrien I don't think this will last any longer..." "No kidding!" THEN JAGGED STONE CAME FLYING THROUGH THE WINDOW, JAMMING OUT HIS LATEST SONG ABOUT HOW LILA IS SUCH A LIAR AND EXPOSED EVERY SINGLE THING SHE DID TO BEST GIRL MACHONETTE! THEN ALL THESE OTHER KIDS FROM THE SCRAPPED PV UNIVERSE CAME IN VIA A CONGO LINE AND MARINETTA DECIDED TO GIVE THEM THE OTHER MIRACULOUS COS WHY NOT!? AND THEN CHLOE BECAME MARINETTE'S NEW BFF COS HELL YEAH I LOVE VIBING WITH PEOPLE WHO BULLIED ME AND MY PEERS FOR FOUR YEARS STRAIGHT AHAHAAHAH QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENS- "Adrien, I'm going to kill her. She needs to stop." "Go on then~" AND THEN! AND FUCKING THEN! SCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!!! . . . [Error 404: The following writer has unfortunately met her demise through unknown means. We apologise for any inconveniences. Please keep scrolling as we clear up the mess. Have a good day.] . . . "Huh...that was anticlimactic...now what?" "You go off snogging my rejected predecessor and the guitar boy? >:(" "As if I'd go for anyone other than my silly kitty!" ":D" . . . ~(x)~ A/N:  I am never EVER writing anything this cursed AGAIN! How can you bash anyone but the villains in this series!? Damn! I can't even say I'm sleep deprived! This is the most fucked up shit I've written and I'm super alert oof!

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, light smut w/ more to come - college!au

wordcount ~ 1.7k

warnings ~ light smut, drinking/partying, mentions of dick?, basically just making out, feat. long hair jk :)))))

a/n ~ this is my first time posting a fic!!! costume idea inspired by @ddaenggtan‘s iconic weeb-ass jk in chasing butterflies lol, and I got the idea to write this in general from wondering what a scenario like @joonbird​‘s literally flawless fic passionfruit would be like from the opposite perspective bc I kept reading it (and rereading it...and rereading it...) and loving the connection but I’m much more like joon in that au than the reader oooop. anyway thank you to all the writers on here whose work i have loved and my friends who have encouraged me and made me bold enough to embrace such a fun new creative outlet xxx u know who u are :’)

next: chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!) 

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 1 ~ dress up

You never intended to end up at this Halloween party. You didn't even know who to expect to see here, other than your roommate's friend from high school, the host, who had invited y'all as a package deal even though she knew you didn't really do parties. At least not ones like hers, where every bedroom ended up occupied by the end of the night and nearly no one went home alone. Thrilled to break out of your lame group of friends for a taste of flirtation and fun, you tried to relax into the scene but the unspoken expectation of casual sex intimidated you the tiniest bit.

Speaking of casual sex, there was Jungkook.

Used to admiring him from afar in your "14 Films To See Before You Graduate" class, you paused to take in the sight of him in what you supposed was a more natural habitat. Everyone knew Jungkook got girls, thanks to the rumor his first freshman-year hookup had started about his seriously impressive dick. He had a beautiful body too, carefully crafted muscles obvious even beneath his usual baggy black clothes, so as the more intimate rumors spread and various co-signers confirmed every detail from length to curve to (you had always hated this word, but...) girth, getting a piece of all that became a badge of honor among the girls in your grade. You had never really understood how the awkward boy who hid manga under his desk in class could supposedly be such a sex symbol, but you almost felt bad for him. That kind of reputation following you around everywhere couldn't be all fun and games. If anything, though, it had intrigued you even more about the rest of him, all his little weeb quirks and the way he debated your points in the discussion boards like he actually cared. He wasn't exactly studious in general, but he clearly loved film and you enjoyed speaking up in class just to see how he would jump off of your observations. You hadn't really talked to him other than that, but he didn't seem to be talking to anyone else tonight either. From the corner, you let yourself appreciate the way his nervous hands tugged at the skinny black tie of his costume, freeing more of his throat from a thin yellow button-down shirt.

At least you no longer felt overdressed in your Nancy Drew outfit. The retro headband, brown loafers, and bookish plaid knee-length skirt set a much more sophisticated tone than most other ensembles you'd seen, but Jungkook's weeb ass had basically worn a full suit to channel Spike Spiegel from Cowboy Bebop. With his grown-out hair tousled and a navy pinstripe jacket cinched tight with two strips of electrical tape over his tiny waist, you couldn't deny that he rocked it. He leaned against a long plastic table left in the hallway, bobbing his head to the music in the next room and adjusting the too-slim suit pants around his thick thighs. His translucent cup stayed hidden behind a hip until he raised it quickly to his face for another sip of...red wine? Probably Franzia, knowing tonight's crowd, but anything was better than beer. You made a beeline for the one boy with taste at this party, your sole mission now to get wine drunk, sneak some Usher throwbacks on this playlist, and drop it low enough to leave some dude hard on the dance floor. #wastehistime2019, yknow.

"Hey!" You got his attention, grabbing the hand with the cup before he could lower it out of view again. His eyes grew comically wide and his mouth formed an "o" in shock before you demanded "Where is the wine?" and he pressed his lips back into a line, stuttering.

"I-I-I'm sorry, I just brought a bottle because the beer here sucks but I think it's all gone by now, I tried to hide it but yeah anyway you can have the rest of this one if you want though." Wincing at his own ramble, he ruffled the retro pouf of his hair with one hand and proffered the plastic cup in another. Both actions highlighted how pretty his hands were and you were just slightly tipsy enough to thread your fingers over his in the also-pretty black waves falling over his yep-still-just-as-pretty cheekbones.

"Aw, it's okay, I don't want to take your wine. No more liquid courage for me," you grinned, dotting the lightest kiss on his nose. It was an innocent gesture, but as your face naturally lowered so your noses touched, leaving your lips centimeters away from each other, something snapped—in him.

His wine discarded on the table, a hand curled around to clutch your ass and you practically felt his tongue before you felt his lips. Slamming your body abruptly into his, he nudged a thigh between your legs to grind it up on your center and as your arm got caught between your bodies, the tension you sensed filling his frame gave you pause. You pushed him away gently but firmly with the hand already flattened against his rock-solid abs. Looking down at the slight space restored between y'all, you removed his hands from his hair and your ass and laced them in yours to guide him back against the wall.

"I...what was that?" you almost giggled. You definitely weren't trying to laugh at him, but you couldn't hide your surprise at this first potential proof of his fuckboy reputation.

"I'm—" his whole face crumpled, both from the simple sting of your seeming rejection and the possibility that he had broken a boundary or forced himself on you against your wishes, which made him so sick he could barely face you. Squirming under your light hold but not quite resisting, he rambled again: "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to force myself on you or anything, don't worry I would never try anything if you didn't want to, I just figured we might as well get to the point if you did because, uh...when girls touch me like that or even talk to me at these things it's pretty much always just because they...want to."

"Jungkook," you breathed, pulsing your hands over his in reassurance. He squeezed his eyes shut, still distraught, and when they opened, you had craned your neck to meet his averted gaze.

"I never said I didn't want to."

His eyes widened again. "Uh...uh...then..." he trailed off, never having needed to directly proposition a girl like this before. He really had been inexperienced before the rapid escalation of college, and was at a loss for how to get to the good stuff from here via anything more eloquent than a rushed "Wanna fuck?" You shook your head silently, nose grazing his again, and let go of one hand to cup his face with care, like he was something precious you were scared of breaking.

"What? You want to get right to fucking me?" you murmured into his ear. He shivered at hearing you curse for the first time, freed from the constraints of class discussions and closer than he ever guessed you'd get to him. "Is that really what you want? Or is it what you think I do? Because if it's alright, I think I want something better. For you."

You pressed a new kiss to his nose, only slightly stronger than the one that had started all this. He held his breath and his untouched, open mouth trembled as you scattered soft introductions of your lips across his forehead, to his temples, over the scar that sliced his cheekbone. Finally inhaling a skittery heave of your shared air as you passed closer to his lips, he forced it back out in frustration when you ducked away to nudge under his jaw instead. Returning your hand to his hair, you grinned, enjoying the spike in his pulse under your thumb and skipping the tip of your tongue lightly over his neck right up to the earlobe. You lifted the choppy ends of his waves away from the dangly silver hoop they hid, tensing the strands just slightly between your fingers in an inability to hide your glee. Something told you this was going to drive him crazy.

Taking a slight detour to suck his pierced lobe between your lips, you responded to Jungkook’s low moan of surprise by wedging your tongue through the first oversized hole and letting your teeth clatter over multiple rings of metal. He was trying so hard to stay pliant under you, but the tease of slight pain in a new and unusual spot made him want your mouth more, anywhere he could get it. No one had ever spent this much time tracing so few inches of skin.

And so many girls had buried his face in their necks, craving evidence of an encounter with the Jeon Jungkook, that a strange kind of empathy caught him off guard when you showed him how good it could feel to receive. You connected your lips to the hollow right under his ear, feeling the tendons stretch as his head lolled away from you. Working him through a cascade of light gasps, you stepped away satisfied once you had sucked a dark bloom to the surface. He watched you leave with his mouth agape and chest heaving, unable to believe you could just walk away with a wave and a "See you in class!"

But you did, and he would.

"Shit!" he swore, a shaky hand darting straight to the spot. Now he had to keep his hair long for at least another two or three days. If he showed up to discussion on Monday and had to watch you admiring your work on his skin, he would probably just die on the spot. And that would not be very Spike Spiegel of him.

next chapter

[imsuchmarveltrash]

Revolutionary (A Stucky x Reader series) [Chapter Two]

A/N: So I know this is a Stucky x Reader series, but that will start up in the next chapter. For now, have a tiny bit of spice between the reader and Loki. Next chapter coming soon!

Chapter One link

Chapter Two: Hold Me Down

“You ready for the meeting love?” Loki asked as you put your t-shirt back on.

“Yes.” You stated, “I need this to start.”

You looked completely dishevelled and, for once, Loki looked the same. Undressed from his elegant, designer suit, he sat naked in your bed, covered only by the sheets the two of you had only moments ago been writhing and moaning under.

You tried fixing your hair and dabbing at your make up, but nothing seemed to be able to shake the “freshly fucked” look from your body. You huffed, giving up on trying to look somewhat proper and started collecting your notes and mentally ran through everything that needed to be said in the meeting.

“You need to get your ass up or you’re going to be late.” You rolled your eyes.

“And when has that ever been an issue for me?” He smirked.

“Loki, this is a group meeting, not one of your little Bourgeoisie get-togethers.” You complained.

Loki sighed, getting out of the bed and starting to dress himself again. He had his suit pants back on, unbuckled, the silky material already complimenting his elegant frame. Still buttoning his shirt, he crept up behind you. You became aware of him when, moving the hair from your right shoulder, he kissed your skin lightly, dragging his lips from your edge of your collar bone to the curve of your neck before stopping at the shell of your ear.

“You know what this is, right?” Loki whispered, his velvet voice sending shivers down your spine and causing heat to rise inside you all over again.

Your breath hitched, your mind momentarily clearing except for the awareness of the reaction Loki caused within you. There was something about him that always had you tingling. Yet, that tiny voice of reason slowly came back to you, and you quickly shook your head, turning around to answer him without allowing yourself to fall under his spell again–not that you didn’t want it the first time.

“It’s good sex that’s even better because of the rush from it being illegal.” You deadpanned.

“You’re wrong.” Loki chuckled lowly.

“Well, what is it then?” You asked, slightly irritated by his stalling. The two of you needed to get to the meeting, but all Loki seemingly wanted was to discuss your sex lives.

He brought himself right up against you, the tips of your noses touching as you both breathed in each other’s breaths. His swift motion threw you off guard, but the air suddenly felt static with the tension between the two of you, but you knew that you didn’t have time to do this again.

“It’s a power exchange.” Loki breathed. “For a few short hours, you have complete control of my body… my pleasure… my pain… For this brief period, you can do whatever you want with me, to me. It’s that temporary exchange of control. That one that the government is so afraid of, so they have rules. Yet, they don’t understand how that only adds to the thrill. How, at any second, we could get caught and that has me thrumming like a livewire, but even sweeter is that it’s you who’s beneath me… or on top of me… or beside me.”

As he spoke, his hands roamed your body, and you couldn’t help but quiver under his touch. His words flowed so smoothly from his lips, his seductive tone playing with your mind. If you weren’t so strong willed, he could’ve talked you straight back into your bed where he’d ravish you for the rest of the night, but you knew there were things to be done.

“Loki, stop.” You said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Fine. I know it’s not just me that desires your attention.” He sighed.

You moved away from him, but he continued speaking. “You’re leading this for a reason, you know.”

“I know.” You stated, gathering the last of your things as he straightened his suit.

“Not completely, though.” He muttered.

“What are you talking about?” You groaned.

“You might not see it, but you’re by far the most important part of this plan working. I know there are various brilliant minds within our little group, but this would all be lost without you. You don’t know this, but Pierce keeps a remarkably close eye on what goes on within this city. Yet, he’s completely overlooked you. Out of everyone within our circle, you’re the one he’d never see coming. Compared to everyone else, I know you may see yourself as small, but you’re just as spectacular, perhaps even more so. You’re so alluring, people fail to see what’s hiding beneath the façade of those entrancing eyes, and that’s their fatal flaw. You don’t see it, but we need you the most.”

You huffed out a breath, not wanting to have to think about all that when you needed to prepare yourself for the meeting that would inevitably start it all. Turning back to Loki, you softly kissed his cheek, trying to wordlessly convey your gratitude to him for seeing you in ways you couldn’t see yourself. It was an intimate gesture, and although the two of you were passionate, it was not something you were used to.

You took his hand, leading him out of your room and into the dimly lit passageway. Being part of the Proletariat meant that you didn’t have much that you could call yours. You had a small space that barely qualified as an apartment. Equipped with a single bedroom and bathroom, the miniscule, decrepit lack of room gave you the only place to escape to that you could call yours. If you were lucky, some days the government bothered to supply your building with running water and electricity, but for the most part you relied on the things your friends in the Bourgeoisie gave you. Like Loki said, it was a power exchange.

You and Loki reached the elevator that would take you into the depths of the building’s underground floors. By some stroke of good fortune, you managed to find a building to live in that still had a running underground section. There was a small collection of them in the city, but they were all slowly starting to fall apart, becoming too dilapidated to bee inhabited. The floor you were going to had a small open-plan room that worked perfectly as a meeting place for your group.

Initially, it seemed to be a large underground storeroom of sorts, but as a building that only housed Proletariat citizens who could barely afford daily necessities, it was empty when you found it. Tony and Fury had helped you sneak in all the equipment that you needed, while Peter, Maria and Wanda had filled it with all the technology that would help you monitor the government. Now, it functioned as the underground headquarters for your group. Tony and Fury had moved in a few couches and a coffee table that was situated in the back-left corner of the room and functioned as a meeting area. The entire top half of the right wall was covered in monitors showing surveillance from various parts of the city that Peter and Maria had managed to hack from the government. The rest of the room’s space housed various tables and workbenches that you each used individually to plan, strategize, develop weapons and create new technology.

The elevator ride was relatively silent, you and Loki both lost in your own separate worlds. He knew not to bother you, sensing your nervousness at finally having this plan start rolling. Your group was still relatively new, having only consisted of all seventeen of you for a few months, but you had all finally decided that you were done waiting. Changes had to me made in society, and they had to be made immediately.

The elevator opened, and you walked steadily towards the room. Your heart thrummed in both excitement and nervous energy. You knew what you wanted to say, but you had no idea how this meeting was going to pan out. As you walked through the doorway into the meeting room, you were greeted by the faces of the rest of your group members. As it turned out, you and Loki were the last to arrive. You knew Bucky would give you crap for that later. Everyone was seated comfortably in the meeting area, only waiting for you. Loki found a seat next to Thor, while you took your spot between Steve and Bucky. As you sat down, you felt them gravitate towards you–the three of you  had a likelihood to do that. Once you were comfortable, you looked up and knew that it was time for the meeting to commence.

“Hi everyone, thank you for coming.” You started.

“Where else would we be?” Clint mumbled, rolling his eyes.

You shook your head at his constant cynical demeanour but continued nonetheless. “I know how we all feel right now. Those of us who’ve grown up on these streets are tired. Tired of having to fight for everything we have and face the injustice of a society we didn’t choose. Those of you who were born into lives of luxury but had that stripped away because you didn’t have the freedom to love or the freedom to choose to be kind. Those of you who were raised straight into the hands of the government and can no longer stand their  ways. I think we’ve all realised the ways in which we’re unhappy.

“From those of you who’ve worked under the government, and from how all of our lives have been influenced by the governments rule and their laws, we all know that this injustice needs to stop. But it’s gotten to the point where it won’t stop unless we do something about it. We’ve tried the passive route. We’ve tried showing them the error of their ways. Yet, they haven’t listened. In their eyes, this system is immaculate. But we know better.

“So, we cannot act passively anymore. We’ve waited long enough. It’s time for an overthrow. There are too many people living in poverty and bearing the weight of this injustice just so that the rare few can live in luxury. This is not something we can tolerate anymore. This is our opportunity to make a change.”

Most of them stared at you in awe, completely inspired by your words. Loki was right in how he called you alluring. You had an air about you that was almost regal. Had you been born into the Bourgeoisie, you would’ve been all-powerful. Not only did you have a wondrous mind of your own, but you had the capability to inspire the brilliance and innovation of others.

“So, what’s our plan?” Tony asked, causing you to smile cunningly.

“I have a plan, but you’re all going to need to help.” You smirked.

[matildashoney]

Loving You’s The Antidote: Chapter Two

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // PREV/IEW(S) // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou​

Harry texted Amelie once more before the end of the night, the end of his night, more so, she was already entering her second dream when his message brightened her screen.

Are you busy tomorrow night? I’d like to take you up on that offer to see you before tour. x

Harry knew she was asleep. He didn’t expect a response until later in the afternoon, presumably after her exam and the movement of the day. He won't lie and say that he didn’t wait and periodically check his phone, though. He woke up slightly after nine, immediately checking his phone for a response from her. Nothing.

She’s probably in class, Harry justified, setting his phone on his bedside table and swinging his legs off the mattress, his fists knuckling his eyes as he sucks in a heavy breath with a groan. She’ll respond.

Hey there, Mr Styles. I’m on my way to my second class. Can I text you after?

Harry grins, rolling his eyes at the formality of how Amelie addresses him. He can’t deny that it makes his heart beat a bit louder against his ribs. He takes his phone with him to the bathroom, his mind running over possible responses and the ways that she will respond to his response. He heaves a breath, settling. Of course. Have fun in class. x

Oh yes, I’ll have the most fun.

Harry does his best to not to think too deeply about her lack of messages throughout the day. He takes his time to do the mundane chores of a house owner and adult, attempt to write a song to suggest for the upcoming album for the band, conferencing in about a new tour schedule. His attention is drawn away from the television when his phone begins vibrating on the coffee table, her name lighting the screen. He coughs awkwardly, gathering his voice and his ability to speak. He never gets nervous like this.

“Hi,” Harry says, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he settles on the couch, his guitar beside him and his clean jeans strewn on the dryer.

“Hi,” Amelie greets, opening her front door and setting her bags down, gently pushing the linen bags of canvas and paint to the side. “’m just getting home, now. Got a call earlier that I have to take a final look at one of my murals. ‘s not very first date like, but you’re more than welcome to come.”

“That sounds great,” Harry smiles, brushing his fingertips through his hair and standing on his feet, his mind tracing over the possible outfit combinations that could be paired together for the evening. “Do you, um, want me to meet you? Or I could pick you up?”

“I’ll send you my address,” she says lightly, her eyebrows furrowing together as she moves into her bedroom and begins to tear away from her working clothes. “As long as you’re not going to murder me or something. Know you said you wouldn’t last time, but I need to check, again. Safety first.”

“Swear I won’t,” he chuckles lightly, shaking his head as he takes his clothing from the washroom and brings it to his bedroom, his eyes staring over himself in the mirror and trying to gauge if he should take another shower. He already made a good first impression. First Date impressions, however, are completely different. “Shouldn’t take me too long. What time do you want me to come?”

“Any time!” she replies instantly, turning on the shower, the water sputtering behind as she moves into her bedroom to finish the conversation. “I’m just getting changed.”

“Text you when I’m on my way, then,” Harry quips, his fingers pinching his bottom lip nervously. He hates that he feels so nervous around her, talking to her. He isn’t accustomed to the feeling, but he can’t say that he doesn’t like the butterflies in his belly that flutter every time a word leaves her lips, or she smiles at him. There is something about her.

Harry changes his outfit three times before settling on his original choice. He takes his wallet, his keys, and his phone, setting his alarm and making his way to his car before taking a breath. He opens his messages, staring at the keyboard thinking of a message. On the way. x

Beautiful. See you soon!

His car moves into an open space, his eyes cast on the apartment above. He is nervous, more nervous than he should be, but his stomach is in knots and he is questioning whether Amelie will like the flowers, or she’ll hate them, whether she’ll spend one night with him and decide that she doesn’t want to see him again, whether Amelie will let him kiss her – and he wants to kiss her.

His eyes widen as the door swings open, a towel slung over her arm, her hair slightly damp and clinging to her chest. He can barely make out the pattern on her shirt – it’s vintage, that much he knows – and the tattoo that covers her thigh beneath the holes in her jeans. His stomach twists, her appearance much more casual and toned down than the day before. He liked her like this.

He closes his car door and waits for the sound of the lock before walking up the stairs. He carries the flowers in one hand, his keys and phone shoved into his back pocket. Harry can feel his heart rate quicken when she smiles at him, the innocence behind her eyes and the way her cheeks flushed making his belly swarm with butterflies.

He can’t say that he has ever felt this way before.

“Have to warn you that my place is a total disaster,” Amelie warns, impatiently brushing her fingers through her hair, using her towel to squeeze the ends dry.

“’s fine,” Harry chuckles, walking closer, the breath knocking out of him as he fully sees her. He could see every curve, the thickness of her thighs, the way her hips extended a bit further than the constraints of her jeans. He could see that her chest was heavier, the shirt adorning a pattern of a band he wasn’t sure of tight against the seams of the lace beneath her shirt. Harry reminds himself to take a breath, to listen, licking his lips as he blinks and regains his focus on her.

“No, Harry, it’s like a disaster.”

“’m sure it’ll be okay,” Harry smiles, holding the bouquet out and smiling, “For you.”

“Oh my god,” she says under her breath, her eyes meeting his, grinning at him. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.” Harry grins as Amelie impulsively kisses his cheek, his eyes bright green and shining. “Come in, come in.”

Harry smiles, coming in behind her and closing her door. He carefully watches as she sets the flowers in a spare mug, the quirkiness of her apartment exhibiting the pure extent of how much of an artist she truly is. His eyes travel along the open space of her apartment, two doors opened at the end of an extended hallway, her kitchen and lounge and makeshift dining table all seemingly combined into one area. One of the open doors must be a studio, Harry assumes, his head quirking around the corner to peek inside.

Harry was right.

“Holy shit, you’re talented,” Harry mutters, his feet carrying him towards the studio, the windows bright and without curtains, the sunlight piercing through and shadowing against three unfinished paintings, coloured canvasses littering the walls. “These are all yours?”

“They are,” Amelie nods, walking in behind him, her shoulder leaning against the doorframe as she admires his expressions. There is something about how someone looks at your art that tells you whether or not they’re one to keep. Harry is surely one to keep. “You can look around. Tell me which one you like the most.”

“Can’t decide,” he breathes, his fingertips holding his balance as he crouches beside one of the pieces, the scattered blue and red acrylic marking the oddities and transforming into an image he can’t quite determine. He should have tried to learn a little something before coming over. Maybe it would have impressed her. “You’re good.”

His eyes widen as her jeans begin vibrating against the door, her eyes rolling as she answers the call, sputtering an apology to Harry and to whoever is on the other line. He pinches his lips, his fingertips tracing over the delicate strokes of a daisy on the canvas as she paces the corridor, her words broken into hums and quiet agreements.

“Okay, okay,” Amelie sighs, shaking her head and checking the time on her screen. “Give me about fifteen minutes. Traffic is going to be hell.”

Harry stands to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking towards the door, his eyes meeting hers as she nearly knocks into his chest running into the room. “Might have heard you,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as she stares at him intently. “Want me to drive? I don’t mind.”

Amelie nods, smiling graciously as she shoves her phone into her pocket and begins gathering the remaining tools that she needed to finish whatever she was working on. Harry didn’t mind counting this as a date. He was happy to be with her, let alone see more of her work. That seemed to be a tell of her comfortability with him. He appreciated that. “Going to take us at least twenty minutes to go two miles,” she groans, shaking her head at the traffic that was lining the conjoining roads. “Hate it here.”

“You don’t like California? Or Burbank, specifically?” Harry questions, following her as she walks outside and locks her tiny apartment. He could tell that there was a hint of an accent in certain words, but he couldn’t tell where from.

“Bit of both,” Amelie sighs, her fingertips thrumming against the haul containing paintbrushes and spray paint and sponges. Harry points to his car, her lips curving into a smile as he begins unloading her hands into the backseat. “Want to travel so badly. Took a year off and went to France to visit family. They inspired me to take art as a profession and it really became successful about four or five months ago. Any coursework was simply a bore and I’m ready to graduate.”

“France?” Harry hums, nodding as he takes note of the way some of her words are airier than others, the way her accent seems softer than everyone he seemed to know. He loved the sound of her voice. He knew it.

“Mhm,” she says, buckling her seatbelt and loading the directions into her phone, the screen connected to Harry’s car. “My parents met there; Dad is from a little further into upstate and was doing filmography work in Paris, my mom went to ‘study her roots’ for a year in Paris, came back to her tiny town with him on her arm. My grandparents are from there. Most of my extended family still lives over there. Haven’t been back in a few years. I miss it.”

Harry follows the directions carefully, ensuring that he wouldn’t miss the turn and make her any later than she would be with the bustling traffic. He listens carefully, humming when appropriate and occasionally stealing glances at her.

“Do you speak French?” Harry wonders, his mind inappropriately travelling to all of the things she could possibly say to him in a language he should know better than the stray phrases he knew.

“Je fais,” Amelie smiles, quirking her eyebrow as he weaves through a tight street to meet the avenue where her mural is nearly finished. “My sister, Phoebe, was going on about how schools in the U.K. make you learn multiple languages as children. Is that true?”

“For some, yeah,” Harry sighs, silently wishing that he spent more attention to the details of the few years he did take from his language courses. “You have to take a foreign language for the GCSEs and University, if you want to. Obviously, that was not in my path.”

Harry smiles as Amelie laughs, shaking her head as she takes a breath and her eye catches sight at the end of the street. “Do you know another language? From before you became a global sensation and travelled the world selling out major arenas and stadiums and all that.” Harry squints, smiling at her. “I may have done some research, last night. By research, I mean, Phoebe is very suspicious of me.”

“Have to throw her off her tail then, won’t we?” Harry smirks, winking at her as she pretends to stare out the window, her palm covering her face. “Um, yeah, I learned a bit of French. I wish I spoke more, though,” he murmurs quietly, taking a breath to strengthen his confidence. “You’ll have to teach me.”

Harry’s hopeful smile make her heart race. “I definitely will, Mr Styles.” Harry grins, parking the car and unbuckling his seatbelt. He nods towards the landscape of Los Angeles painted across the side of a local café in the centre of town. “Here we are.”

Harry climbs out of the car and follows closely behind her, his skin heating as she takes his hand in hers, her supplies tucked under her arm. There is a man leaning against the wall, eyeing her as they walk closer, his jaw tensing as he notices the man attached to her hand.

“Don’t look at me like that, Jack,” Amelie says to the man, his arms tucked in front of his chest as a way to overcompensate his dominance. “Have to talk to your mom. Is she inside?”

“Think so,” he sighs, releasing his breath and peeking around the corner, his mother rushing to greet her.

“Hi, sweetheart!” his mother coos, wrapping her in a hug as Harry moves aside. “Oh my god. Are you on a date?” she murmurs against her ear, giggling as she nods. “I’ll make this quick then. He’s handsome.”

“Thank you,” Amelie smiles, walking to the side and setting her supplies near Harry’s feet, his body settled on a bench near the mural. “Have to touch up this bit, here, and sign and you should be perfect.”

“Thank you so much for doing this for us.” His mom was sweet, the kindest woman she had ever met beyond her mother, which was a vast contrast to her son. He was manipulative and abusive, although only Amelie had to see that side of him. He was the ideal boy to everyone else. Maybe that’s why they dated for so long. His mother never had a harsh word to say about her, rather making sure that she knew she would always be around. You dated Jack for years and you grew up with us. You’ll always be like a daughter to me. Her word was never broken. Amelie didn’t intend to break her word when she promised a new mural for the side of their café. “I love it so much.”

“Anything for you,” Amelie grins, hugging her once more before beginning to sort through the supplies in the bag that Harry opened for her. “I’ll explain in the car.”

“Don’t have to,” Harry assures her. He doesn’t want to make her feel like she owes him an explanation as to why she stays close with what seemed to be an ex’s family. He couldn’t speak on that. He is the same way. “Good for now?” he wonders, closing the bag on his thighs when she turns on her heel, paint coating a palette in her hand.

“Not much left to do,” she mutters, her eyes squinting as her attention draws to the intricate patterns on the wall. “California rained the other day, as you know, and that ruined the drying bits. Have to touch them up and then we can go.”

Harry traces every movement she makes. He admires the way she is detailed and intricate, the way you can tell that this is her love and passion without having to ask. He notices the way she bites her lip when she’s staring back at her work, noting to make any details before marking her name in sight of anyone that would be looking.

Harry was looking.

His mouth quirks into a smile as Amelie rolls her eyes at the man making comments at them as she packs away her tools, his mother quickly coming to correct him and say her gratitude with a warm hug. Her introduction to Harry is sweet, and Harry can make out the wink she gives her in the corner of his eye. He reaches for Amelie’s hand, this time, smiling when she intertwines her fingers with his and move closely behind him towards his car.

“All you need to know is that that boy at the café is not a good person,” Amelie begins, settling in the seat and buckling her seatbelt, her hands flat against her knees as she begins her story. Harry didn’t need to know all of the messy details, because no one likes messy, as her favourite book once said. “His mother loves me, though, as you could see. He’s not my favourite person in the world,” she says, holding her hand up to correct herself, “actually, he’s my least favourite person in the world, but it’s not in me to break his mother’s heart and tell her what he’s really like.”

Harry senses that Amelie’s not saying something. He doesn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. He listens carefully and follows the directions to her apartment, not wanting to move any boundaries or lines with her. He wants her to feel comfortable with him. He feels comfortable with her. Harry wants to do the same.

Harry carefully parks next to the tiny car that she claims as her own. He could see her driving it, the windows down, the music on her playlist turned as loud as she could bear, her supplies and artwork collected in the backseat. He unbuckles and begins taking her supplies from the backseat, his eyebrows quirking in surprise as she mentions coming inside for a drink.

“You didn’t think I was going to let that be our first date,” Amelie says, her mouth agape and her eyes wide with shock. “Mr Styles, you should know better.”

“How am I supposed to know better!” Harry laughs, locking the vehicle and beginning to follow her to her apartment. “Haven’t even known you for twenty-four hours, love.”

“Oh, you didn’t stalk my social media. What a gentleman,” she teases, opening the door for him and gesturing to the floor to set the supplies down. Closing and locking the door behind her, she points towards the kitchen, a collection of liquors assorted on the counter. “Not an alcoholic, I’ll say that. My friends and I do love a drinking game, though.”

“Must be nice to just sit around and drink,” Harry laughs, taking a breath before walking behind her, his hand barely grazing her hip to peek at the collection of tequila she has on the countertop. He pinches his bottom lip to hide his smirk as her skin prickles with bumps, the way his touch seemingly made her skin burn like his, making his heart race. “Have either four drunken twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three-year olds around me, or friends that are in their thirties. There’s no in-between.”

“Only my best friend and her boyfriend,” Amelie mentions, taking a glass and pouring a shot of tequila from a different bottle. “Can’t rat me out for being underage. Okay, Rockstar?”

“As long as you don’t rat me out for drinking with you,” Harry smirks, clinking his glass against hers. “You’re legal to drink in Europe. Let’s pretend we’re not here fo’ a minute.”

“Would love to,” Amelie giggles, turning around and standing against the counter, Harry’s hand dangerously close to her hip, his chest against her shoulder. “How much do you know about art, Mr Styles? Would like to see her interpretations of a few paintings I have in the works.”

“Have little to no knowledge, if I’m honest,” Harry confesses, disappointed in the way he could have impressed her with even the slightest bit of information. “Also, you have to quit calling me, Mr Styles. Makin’ me sound like ‘m at work or summat.”

“Have to repeat that, once more,” she says, her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as she tries to understand what he said. “Summat – the hell is that supposed to mean.”

Harry cackles, shaking his head, his eyes rolling as she crosses her hands over her chest, taking another sip before staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “Um, summat, like, something. Just an English slang fo’ something.”

“Couldn’t you just say something, like everyone else?”

“Could, yeah, but that’s no fun,” Harry smirks, slowly taking a drink, noting the way her eyes travel from his to his jaw to how his vein juts out when he takes a drink. “Couldn’t you speak English, like the rest of us?”

“Oh taire.”

“Ooh,” Harry teases, his empty glass set beside him, his eyes studying the way her cheeks were slightly flushed and her eyes met him so easily, “you’re bringing out the second language on me.”

“Peut-être.”

“Tell me something.” Harry wants to hear Amelie speak. His stomach flutters with butterflies and his blood begins to boil when she speaks, especially when the accent is lacing every word. He doesn’t know what about her makes him like this. He can’t say that he minds, though.

“Je ne fais pas l'amour au premier rendez-vous, mais peut-être que je le ferai avec toi.”

“Have no clue what that means,” he laughs, shaking his head and leaning in closer, his nose barely meeting her cheek. “One more time.”

Harry shifts his weight uncomfortably, inching slightly closer to her to hide that his cock is beginning to strain against the fabric of his jeans as she enunciates every word delicately and perfectly. “Je ne fais pas l'amour au premier rendez-vous, mais peut-être que je le ferai avec toi.”

“Have to guess what you’re telling me, don’t I.”

“Mhm,” Amelie hums, sighing with content as the alcohol burns familiarly down her throat. Harry leans in closer, his breath hot on her skin, his lips nearly touching hers as she turns her torso, their faces now inches apart. “Take a guess.”

“Je ne fais pas, I don’t,” Harry deduces, thinking carefully about the years ago that he studied the language. “l'amour au premier rendez-vous, love on first dates, mais peut-être que, maybe, je le ferai avec toi, I will with you. I don’t love on the first date, maybe I will with you.” Harry isn’t sure of his translation, a message getting lost along the way.

“Quite close,” she smirks, her lips leaning to touch near his ear. “Je ne fais pas l'amour au premier rendez-vous, mais peut-être que je le ferai avec toi. I don’t have sex on the first date, but maybe I will with you.”

Harry shivers, his skin prickling as her face moves away, her eyes meeting his. “Have to be honest with you,” he breathes against her, his thumb tracing her bottom lip, “Have had my share of one-night stands. ‘m not too keen on ‘em.”

“Good thing to know,” Amelie nods, her eyelashes laying against her cheeks as he gently tugs her bottom lip. “Not my favourite, either.”

“Good thing to know,” Harry mocks, his courage braving him to take her cheeks in his hands and mould his lips against hers.

His mouth aches with the way she kisses him, the way her tongue effortlessly glides with his, her lips making his skin flush and burn beneath her touch. His eyes are squeezed close, savouring the way she perfectly kisses him. He didn’t care to take a breath, wanting to have her swollen lips on his for as long as possible. He wanted to kiss her, over and over and over again.

“Don’t ‘ave to do this, right ‘ere; m’bedroom is down that hallway,” Amelie breathes, hooking into the waistband on his jeans, gently nudging him to move with her. Harry takes her hand, gently mouthing kisses along her wrist as he trails closely behind, his heel kicking the door shut behind him.

“Can tell you’re an artist, fo’ sure,” Harry smirks, his hands squeezing her hips, his lips trailing across her bare shoulder, her sweater loosely on her torso. His fingertips nudge around her waist, feeling for the button on her jeans. “Can I –?”

“That’s supposed to mean what, Rockstar,” Amelie murmurs breathlessly, nodding her head quietly, her cheek leaning against his shoulder as his fingertips delicately move her jeans down her thighs.

“Don’t know just anyone that would have Starry Night as a duvet cover.” His teeth gently bite at her neck, marking a bite that could be covered by her hair, the way her hips leaning into his with the touch telling him everything. “Know you’re a confident woman n’all,” Harry breathes against her, holding her hips steady as she shoves her jeans across the carpet, her body turning in his arms, “but, ‘m really wantin’ to undress you.”

“Have at it,” Amelie smirks, the way his cheeks blush bright red making her stomach ache with butterflies. Harry is the first man to make her feel safe doing this with, again. There is something about Harry. Maybe it’s the way his attention is devoted to her. Maybe it’s the way he clings to every word she says. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t want to overstep a boundary, asking for permission and approval. Maybe it’s the way that every time his skin touches hers, her body feels like she’s on fire, in the best intoxicating way.

Harry sucks in a breath, his pupils dilated, his breath hitched in his throat as his fingers gently move her sweater above her head. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful. Have you been told that?”

“Not nearly as many times as you have told me,” she admits, her fingertips beginning to unbutton his shirt, the silk material falling to the collection of scattered clothes. “Wait.” Harry immediately loosens his hold on her waist. “Have to be honest about something.”

“Okay,” Harry murmurs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and tucking his hand under her chin, bringing her eyes to meet his.

“Have had some things go on, and ‘m not entirely ready to have oral on me, just yet, or vice versa.” Harry could walk out, right now. He could be annoyed or disappointed in the idea that she’s teased this. He could leave and never talk to her again. He wouldn’t be the first to have done that.

“That’s fine, love. Thank you for telling me,” Harry smiles softly, gently touching his lips to hers, his hands on her cheeks to bring her close. He can feel her fingertips unbuttoning his jeans, his thighs clenching as her hand barely touches his cock. “Don’t have to do this. I won’t be upset.”

“No, I want to,” Amelie whispers, her nails scratching along his back as his tongue glides across her bottom lip. “Only that, that’s all ‘m not ready for.”

“Have to promise that you’ll tell me if you want me to stop,” Harry says firmly, coaxing her to meet his stare. He was gentle and passionate all at once, and it made her body melt. “Want you to be comfortable with me.”

“I am.” Harry was making her feel comfortable. He’s the reason she’s having the confidence to do this, at all. “Kiss me.”

Harry smiles, his mouth attaching to hers, his hands making their home on her hips and gently squeezing, his fingertips reaching between her back and the curve of her bum, smirking into the kiss when she moans into his mouth. He liked the sound of her moans, a sweet melody in his ears. He gently backs her to her mattress, her bum resting on the edge and her thighs slightly apart for him to settle between. His hands lay behind her, his mouth leaving hers to sponge kisses along her jaw and neck.

“Know I haven’t known you long,” Harry breathes against her skin, the way her fingertips are treacherously close to where he wants her making his breath hitch in his throat, “but, um, feel like ‘ve known you m’whole life.”

“Kind’a scary,” Amelie agrees, touching a kiss to his shoulder as she pushes his briefs down his thighs. “I like it, though.”

“You do,” he hums against her neck, a loved bruise forming beneath his teeth. “Me too.”

“Have condoms in m’drawer, there. You never know when you’re going to have sex with a world-famous rockstar, y’a know?”

Harry snorts, kissing her lips once more before yanking the drawer open, his attention moving when her hands move to her back and unhook the lace bra that covered her chest. He couldn’t have physically gotten harder, but he swears he can feel his cock twitch between his thighs. He becomes more frantic, finding a condom in his size and ripping the wrapper open with his teeth. “You never know when you’re going to have sex with the most talented artist you’ve ever met.”

“Hm, I bet you’ve met more artists in her life than I’ve met people,” Amelie teases, taking his hand and nudging him to lay on the bed. “Flattered to be the most talented.”

Harry’s eyes widen as she straddles his hips. He can’t seem to settle on one aspect of her body to admire. He loves the way her breasts curve perfectly on her chest, the curves of her hips and the pudge to her stomach beautiful in his eyes. He could see her as a mirror of the mermaid tattoo on his arm, beautiful and imperfectly perfect. His fingertips nudge deeper into the flesh of her thighs, the way her hair floats around his face making it seem like the world consisted of only her and him.

“Kinda ironic how we said we don’t like one-night stands,” she whispers, her lips barely touching his, his hands gently holding her thighs tighter as she leans against his chest, his back against her duvet, the bedroom almost seeming to be hot to be under the sheets.

“Tryin’ to tell me you’re not gon’a call me after this, love,” Harry teases, his hands inching close to her bum as her nose brushes against his, his fingertips tugging at the waistband of her panties. His breath is hot against her lips, the taste of liquor lingering. “’m not thinking to make this a one-night-only.”

“Gon’a keep you to your word, Rockstar,” Amelie smirks, gently touching her lips to his, the way his mouth attaches to hers and the kiss is rhythmic and intoxicating nearly knocking the oxygen from her lungs.

“Oh,” Harry groans, his eyes flicking between hers and his hand moving closer to her heat, silently asking permission. His moan echoes in her ear as his fingertips trace along the wetness collected at her core, his cock getting impossibly harder with the feeling, “please do.”

His mouth is aching for hers by the time her lips are on his. He isn’t sure when she got beneath him, but here he was, one knee between her thighs, one near her hip. Maybe it was when he squeezed her bum and she moaned against him. Maybe it was when her hips began grinding on his. Maybe it was when he realised that he couldn’t take her panties and add the lace to the collection of clothes on the floor with her on his waist.

His hands explored every inch of her. He learnt that she loved a touch to her chest, his hands perfectly cupping her breasts and rolling her nipples between his fingertips. He learnt that her favourite place to be kissed was the back of her neck and the tiny indent at her sternum, his teeth nipping a bruise to the skin for good measure.

Harry rolls the condom onto himself, his muscles tensing as Amelie squeezes his thighs, his forearms holding his weight above her, his breath hitching in his throat as she tugs gently on his cock, two pumps in her hand before aligning him with where she wanted most. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” Amelie breathes, a smile on her lips, a gentle nudge on his hip telling him that she’s ready. “Give me a second to adjust, okay?”

“Of course,” Harry agrees, slowly delving into her warmth, a moan caught in his throat with how perfectly he fit inside of her. He sucks in a breath, waiting for her okay to continue moving. He carefully studies her facial expressions, a smirk tugging at his lips as her eyes close with the feeling. He had to move soon, otherwise, he would be done before she could begin, the way her walls clench around him feeling too good. “Can I move?”

“S'il vous plait,” Amelie moans, her thigh held in Harry’s hand, her hips widening as much as she could to take him all in. He was thick, his cock reaching spots that she didn’t know she had. “Fuck.” Harry kisses her, his tongue tasting her, his hand moving her thigh ever so slightly, his hips grinding against hers, a particular thrust causing her jaw to lax, her eyes to roll back as she moans, “That’s it. That’s, yes.”

Harry begins to perfect his movements, his thrusts beginning to grow harder once the perfect spot was noted. He grunts as her fingertips scratch his back, his hair tugged between her fingers, her lips barely able to kiss him. He wanted her to orgasm the best she’s had. He wanted to feel her walls squeeze him and pulse around him. He wanted to feel her.

“Don’t wan’a cum, yet,” Amelie murmurs, his thrusts slowing with her words. “Don’t want this to end.”

“Me neither,” Harry breathes, his nose nudging against hers and moulding his lips to the way hers opened so perfectly for him.

Harry doesn’t know how he is able to hold onto his orgasm for nearly an hour. He must’ve been squeezing her thigh too tight because, by the time his release is spilt into the condom, there are bruises in the span of his fingertips on her skin. He couldn’t control himself once her orgasm came over her senses. He was clenched too tight, too deep in her warmth, too caressed in her touch and her kiss to continue. He gently massages her thighs as her legs shake, her climax hitting her harder than she thought it could. He can feel how swollen her lips are, but he doesn’t want to stop kissing her.

Harry nods towards the bathroom, carefully removing himself and beginning to take the condom, a string of profanities leaving his lips as he nearly trips over his jeans. His eyes squint at her as she laughs at him, the way his dimple makes an appearance in his cheek making her know that he’s okay.

Harry doesn’t hesitate to clamber into bed with her, taking a breath and taking his hair into a bun. “Fuck,” he laughs breathlessly, his hands rubbing the sweat from his forehead, his mouth adorning a smile as his eyes travel to her, her hands covering her face to hide her blushing cheeks. “Can’t hide from me now.”

He nudges Amelie close, gently rolling her hip to make her face him, the way his fingertips gently draw over the faded stretch marks making her heart physically hurt. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip, only moving it when she opens her mouth to speak. “You can stay if you’d like. I’m off tomorrow. Could go to a movie or something.”

“You’re asking me on a date,” Harry smirks, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. His hand is warm on her skin, comforting.

“Am I?”

“Would like to think so,” he chuckles, gently moving a strand of hair away from her face. “Can come with me to my house and get ready later in the evening, if you’d like.”

“Ooh,” Amelie hums playfully, closing her eyes to the sensation as his thumb brushes her cheek, “’m getting to see the inside of the house of a rockstar. How glamorous of me.”

“’s not that glamourous.”

“Feel like you’re trying to get laid, again,” she says, squinting her eyes at him as he smirks, his smile hiding behind his hands as he covers his face, his cheeks burning red. “’m not saying no.”

“My God,” Harry mumbles behind his hands. “I take it back. I’ll come and pick you up.”

“Oh no, Mr Styles,” Amelie sterns, raising her eyebrows as he peeks through his fingers to stare at her. “You already made the offer, therefore it’s valid and will be taken.”

“You’re making me have the biggest damn crush on you,” he whispers, his smile visible between his fingertips.

“Oh,” she teases, the way his cheeks blush red making her heart race. “Good thing I have a crush on you, too.”

Je ne fais pas l'amour au premier rendez-vous, mais peut-être que je le ferai avec toi means “I don’t make love on the first date, but maybe I will with you”. Having only met Harry one day ago, it would seem impossible to make love to the man. How could you make love to someone you barely knew?

But, laying there with him, talking mindlessly about the intricacies of life, Amelie may have mistaken that for falling in love. Had she not known any better she would’ve said that she made love to the man. Made love to the sweet man lying beside her in bed, with his arm draped over her stomach and his face turned to her. Made love to the rockstar on patterned sheets and stained lips.

Made love on a starry night.

[rainandhotchocolate]

Tension - Part 9

A/N JUST TO CONFUSE Y’ALL here is tension part 9 instead of Blackout part 10 - oops. Blackout will be out in two days though so don’t give up on me yet <3 Enjoy!

Also sorry if you’ve not been tagged! I had my taglist go haywire so I don’t think it saved some of the newer requests that I put in - hit me up if this is the case.

~~~~~

The next day passed slowly. Y/N felt like she was seeing Sirius everywhere, his curly dark hair sitting in every class, a cool, unfazed look boring into her every time she caught his eye. Remus was getting excited, talking in hushed tones all day about the changes they could do to the map. 

“What if we add all of the secret passageways out of the castle?”

“But we’ll need to figure out how to get into them all first.”

“We know enough for the moment – I’m sure we could add instructions or something.”

“Well if we are tracking everyone, would we be tracking ourselves anyw-“

“Lupin, Y/L/N, anything you are hoping to share with us all?” McGonagall’s eyes pierced into their own, making them both bob their heads down. 

“No.”

“Then please pay attention.”

“Sorry Professor.” Lupin smiled up at her. Y/N rolled her eyes as Professor McGonagall huffed but softened her eyes. Suck up.

Remus continued to write notes all throughout class, muttering to himself softly as he began drawing little caricatures of people and stairwells that moved around his parchment. 

They traipsed back to the dungeons after dinner, settling in front of the fire to start on their Transfiguration homework and wait for 11pm to strike. Slowly but surely the common room emptied, students moving back to their dorm rooms and leaving a soft silence in the room that was unnerving Y/N greatly. The emptier the room became the more she began to think about certain boys and not how to transfigure moving objects into other moving objects. 

The two of them had already given up on the essay by the time 11pm hit and were pulling on their cloaks by the entrance when the clock chimed loudly in the common room. 

“Let’s go.” Remus grinned. Y/N hadn’t seen him this excited in forever and smiled back at him as they pulled their hoods up and exited the common room, keeping to the shadows of the hallways and using the walls to guide them instead of lighting their wands. They made their way to the Great Hall, the meeting spot Y/N had presumed, but as they moved closer she felt her stomach curdle. What if this was the wrong spot? What if it’s all just a big trap? Trap for what, don’t be stupid. 

They hovered around the edge of the entrance to the Great Hall, wanting an easy access point to the stairwell so they could make a run for it if Filch or Mrs Norris came prowling. 

Suddenly, two large hands seemed to come out of nowhere and place themselves hard on Remus and Y/N’s shoulders. 

“FUCK,” Y/N hissed jumping backwards and pulling out her wand and pointing it towards the hands that were now hovering in midair. 

“Man, that’s never not fun.” The voice of James Potter came from the empty space around the hands, and a cloak seemed to pull off and reveal both James and Sirius, the former grinning whilst Sirius’s face remained neutral. 

“Merlin’s beard, what is that?” Y/N croaked, feeling her heart still pounding loudly in her chest. 

“That’s an invisibility cloak,” Remus replied for James, looking in awe a the cloak, “Can I feel it?”

“Yeah, of course, why do you think I brought it,” James grinned and passed it over for Remus to feel, the cloak now visible in his hands. 

“To show off,” Y/N retorted, hoping her face looked calm. Sirius smirked but remained motionless behind James, not moving to greet them. Y/N noticed that he was still wearing long sleeves down to his fingertips.

“Come on, we want to show you guys something.”

“We?” Y/N muttered to Remus who snorted but signalled for James to go ahead. 

“Do you want to go under the cloak? Unsure if we’ll all fit but we can give it a go.”

“Yes!”

“I don’t know.”

Remus and Y/N replied at the same time, Remus grinning and Y/N looking nervously towards Sirius. He turned to her, eyes wide and exasperated.

“Come on, this is so exciting,” And then in a lower voice, “And you’ll get to squeeze right up nex-”

“OK OK, let’s go.” Y/N plastered on a smile and followed as Remus began asking questions about the cloak as he stepped under it. Y/N grabbed an edge at the same time as Sirius and watched as he jumped back slightly, hiding his hand again. Y/N narrowed her eyes, steeling herself. 

“Come on,” She pulled the cloak up and over the two of them, stepping forward so she could lean on Remus in front of her and try to avoid pressing herself against Sirius. They walked awkwardly together up the stairs, James hissing at Sirius every few minutes to stop falling out of step. 

They climbed up to the fourth floor, pausing every few moments to listen for anyone moving in the staircases around them or along the corridors now almost completely in darkness. 

“Stop stepping on my heels!”

“You’re taking tiny steps I can’t not hit you.”

“Would you two shut it before we all get put into detention?” James whispered towards Sirius and Y/N who had been stumbling on each other after the last flight of steps. “We’re here anyway.”

James pulled the cloak off all four of them, edging towards the wall on the far side of the fourth floor near the main flight of stairs. There was a large painting of an old woman with a large bowl of fruit on her head and several large pear trees covering the painting hanging beside a large mirror that was rusted over. 

“Are you ready for your minds to be blown,” Sirius stepped forwards, grinning at the mirror, and turning to face the three of them. 

“You’re really hyping this up.” Remus laughed but stepped forwards with him and crossed his arms. “Let’s see this miracle then.”

James joined Sirius at the mirror and held out his wand. He tapped the edge of the mirror four times, one on each of the top two corners and the other two in the middle left and right. Then, he muttered something and a light shone around the mirror, travelling from the top peak around to the bottom before clicking open and swinging forward. 

“Ta da!” James turned to them with jazz hands, Sirius leaning against the door in an apparent attempt to cool at ease whilst still pulling his sleeves down over his fingertips. 

“Holy shit,” Y/N gaped, “Where does it lead?”

“Is it out of the castle?” Remus was gazing at the edges of the mirror, reaching out to touch it. 

“Yep, right out into Hogsmeade.” James nodded towards it, “Want to check it out?”

“How long does it take to get there?” 

“An hour, maybe…?” Sirius grimaced, “Maybe we should try this on a weekend. 

“Yeah a two hour trek there and back is already going to be close to 2am.” 

“Who knew you two would be the party poopers,” Remus pouted but sighed, “But they are right, even though I’m very impressed you found out how to open it.”

“Believe me, it took more than a few goes.”

“Do you know more?” Y/N asked curiously, now peering down the passageway. James and Sirius looked at each other with mischievous grins.

“There are six others,” James leaned across from Sirius. They looked even more ridiculous.

“All over the castle,” Sirius continued. Remus held back a laugh. 

“They all leave the castle, but only one goes to Hogsmeade.”

“Two,” Y/N corrected. 

“Two?” Sirius turned to her, narrowing his eyes. 

“Well yeah… the shrieking shack?” Y/N laughed, “You know, where you tried to kill Remus.”

“Ahh, of course! Water under the bridge, no?” James winked at Remus and pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket. 

“We got Peter to do some of the design on the front - don’t worry he’s cool.” James reassured Remus when he suddenly looked nervous. 

James handed over the parchment they had copied over, and opened it up. A swirling designed crept along the edges of the parchment, filling the whole page as Y/N opened up the folds as it revealed more and more of the castle until she could see half the castle and the grounds curling around the pages of the parchment. 

“This…” Y/N stammered, not believing what she was seeing. “How long did this take you?”

“Sirius, Peter, and I were building it out all holidays, Sirius and I most days and then Peter came and made it pretty.”

“Don’t you and Sirius live super far away?” Y/N queried, still looking at the map, tracing the figurines of the areas across the school. When no one answered, she looked up to see Sirius glaring at a very guilty looking James. 

“What?” Remus looked between the two of them suspiciously. James sighed loudly, still grimacing. 

“Sorry dude.” James hit Sirius on the shoulder, “Not my story to tell.”

Sirius rolled his eyes at him. 

“I don’t want to get into this.” Sirius looked down then back up and towards the map. “It’s still a work in progress, but we were thinking we’d pass it off to you to work your… magic.” 

Sirius grimaced at his choice of words, looking up at Y/N. It caught her off guard, her heart pounding uncomfortably at his stare. 

“Sounds good,” Y/N smiled at him, don’t you dare betray me face, stop it. She felt a blush creep up and onto her cheeks so she turned to Remus. “Here, you’re better keep hold of this, I’ll definitely lose it.”

“Unfortunately true.” Remus grabbed the map and folded it until it could fit into his pocket. “So was this midnight rendezvous just for this?”

James gasped, looking mock-hurt, “This wasn’t good enough for ol’ moon-boy?”

Remus turned to glare at Y/N. 

“You told him?”

“No, of course not!” Y/N hesitated, “I told Sirius.”

“You’re the worst friend ever.”

“Or perhaps Sirius is the worst secret keeper ever,” Y/N teased, seeing if Sirius would engage with her again but he just avoided her gaze. She frowned but tried to ignore it. 

“We should probably getting back, I do want to be awake in class tomorrow.” Remus looked expectantly at Y/N. 

“Easy Mcpeasy Moon-boy,” James dodged out of the way of Remus’s arm, grinning, “Come on Sirius, let's leave these two slytherins to their evening business.”

“You go on ahead, give me a sec,” Sirius nudged James who quickly eyed Remus and turned away. Y/N turned to Remus to ask what was going on but he had already begun waving at the two of them and skulking into the dark of the corridor. 

“Meet you in the Great Hall!” Y/N heard him say quietly before she turned back to Sirius who was rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. 

“I just wanted, uh, to say sorry,” Sirius started, still picking at his sleeves awkwardly. 

“That’s ok… I think,” Y/N laughed lightly, “I’m not really sure what your apologising for.”

“For being a bit out of it lately.”

“You mean ignoring me?”

“So you do know,” Sirius pointed out. Y/N sighed. 

“Sorry I just, I'm confused. I know you’re apologising but I don’t really know what’s going on.”

“Can’t you just, accept, you know, that I’m sorry?” He smiled sheepishly at her. She watched him closely. Y/N wasn’t sure if she had ever seen him this nervous before. Well not at least before he’d asked her to their Christmas Party. 

“Well yes, but-”

“See now lets have no buts alright? Clean and simple, I’ll stop being a dickhead, you forgive me, easy peasy.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t help smiling a little. 

“Look, I just need to know if I  did something wrong. I mean I thought we had a good time at Christmas? I’m just confused is all.” Y/N sighed, feeling very exposed in the moonlit hallway around her. Sirius looked up at her quickly. 

“No, Merlin no you didn’t do anything! Fuck I’m sorry I’m a bloody mess it’s really and truly not because of you…”

“But…?” Y/N smiled. She could sense it in his tone. You’re fine it’s just -

“It’s your family,” He said softly. your family. Classic.

“Oh,” Y/N took a step back. She hadn’t heard this in years, not since she’d stopped trying to make friends in other houses. But it still didn’t feel like a shock to her, it was something she’d wondered about ever since she heard stories of him rebelling against the Black family clan. He’d finally cut ties. 

“Congratulations,” Y/N muttered again, stepping back further from him. 

“No, Y/N, come on -” Sirius tried to reach her shoulder but she dodged out of his way. 

“I need to go meet Remus, I’ll see you… soon.” Y/N turned on her heel, ignoring his call out to her as she made her way quickly down the stairs and into the Great Hall. 

“Remus you are not going to belie-” Y/N froze as she took in the sight ahead of her. Remus, eyes wide and nervous, staring at her, Professor McGonagall by his side looking like she might kill someone in her nightgown and cap. 

“Ah, nice of you to join us Ms. Y/L/N.” She smiled tightly at him. “Remus was just telling me that he was alone. Perhaps we can rehash this story to your head of house.”

“I-we- “

“Please save the excuses for someone else, come with me please, now.”

Taglist:  @AVERYTRUERAYOFSUNSHINE @SIRIUSLYJANHVI

@BLUSHINGSKYWALKER @BLACKPINKDOLAN @THEBABBLINGBOOKWORM @CHERRIE511 @IMLUKESNIRVANA @AVENGERSASSEMBLEE @MARAUDERSANDCO @SLY-VIXEN-UP2NOGOOD @KATBERNOULLI @SIRIUS-LYSAD @EVYIIONE​ @MINERVA26LOVE @AIKEIA @GOLLYDEREK​ @GREATWOMBATBLAZE  @SONGFORHEMA​  @YOUR-TYPICAL-GIGGLE​ @MYOWNVIPERROOM​ @HERMIONIE-IS-MY-QUEEN​ @DEMIWITCH527​@DESIDERIAENIGMA  @LAUE-BB​  @FK12B​ @SLYTHERPUFFGAL​   @FAIRTALDES @J-BRIELMALFOY​ @YOUR-TYPICAL-GIGGLE​ @DAVINCIBROCODE​  @SLEEPINGALASKA​   fific7

[bangtanlalaland]

situationship 「sixty minutes」 | knj (m.)

synopsis ↳you recall the moment you made the worst yet best mistake of your life that involves your best friend: Namjoon Kim.

--

— college!au

→pairing: college student!kim namjoon x female reader

→genre: smut, pwp

→word count: 1k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: car sex, unprotected sex (remember: no glove, no love!) jus a lil sprinkle of degradation, daddy kink, joon is huge, (srsly he’s packed downstairs so plz be prepared) ass slapping, squirting, creampie, joonie is possessive (¿woah did we expect that?)

title inspired by: “situationship” by snoh aalegra

a/n: okok so I’ve been getting requests for a part two so here it issss. so basically this part is like a drabble I guess? of present day (after events took place at y/n dorm) pretty much nothing but hot SMUT cause that’s all I know how to write & I’m a HOE for my joonie bby UWu! also srry for the shitty writing + this isn’t edited either cause it’s like 1 am & I’m horrible & also srry for not really releasing a “part 2″ (cause i’m a SOrry HOE who has no content with a combination of 1,000 wips & requests) lolol plz lmk if you want more & I promise I will give you a real sequel. love youuuu!!

「prologue」 sixty minutes

The piercing sun scorches the interior of Namjoon’s cloth seat car. Parked in the school’s library parking lot, you’ve straddled Namjoon in the backseat of his coupe, with his cock fully stuffed inside of you. Neither of you concerned if you’re caught, too horny to care. Your lips remain glued to his, he relishes in the aftertaste of coffee that your tongue coats onto his tastebuds. He tugs and sucks your bottom lip intensely, moaning into your mouth. He smothers your jaw and neck with hungry kisses, leaving behind his markings to claim you as his own.

His fingers snake from his tight grip on your hair all the way down to your ass, gripping tightly and kneading softly into your cushion. Tiny drops of sweat trail down your forehead, courtesy of the summer’s heat. Namjoon abruptly stills your hips and commands, “Open your legs.” He pulls his cock out of you and spreads your legs apart, giving him crystal, clear access to your pussy. His slender fingers trail up and down your lips, purposely avoiding your throbbing clit. And then,

Slap.

Your thighs twitch in response, while your core pulses simultaneously.

“So wet and tight. Pretty little pussy, want you to cum on Daddy’s dick. Understand?” You nod as approval while his fingers continue to rub along your drenched folds.

Slap.

“Can’t hear you.” He retorts.

“Mmm, yes daddy!” You relent while bucking your hips upwards to grind against his fingers. He smirks at your submissiveness and slaps your core vigorously in response.

“Such a cock-thirsty slut. Look at this little pussy throbbing for me.”

Slap. Slap. Slap.

You whimper in return, your sensitive core drowning in arousal. Namjoon circles your clit and spreads your lips apart, salivating at the sight of your juicy cunt. He uses his free hand to stuff his dick inside of your needy hole. He nearly cries out in pleasure at the tightness of your pussy; his eyes shut and lips part naturally, admiring the familiar yet unbelievable sensation. Your walls are warm, like his heart when he hears you calling out his name. Your walls are slick, like the gel he uses every morning to style his mullet into that perfect side-part. Your walls are home to him, like when you both lie together in silence, after sex, and take a moment to regather yourselves. Namjoon grasps your hips and you follow suit by slamming yourself onto his cock, wasting no time to fuck while you have an hour break before your next class.

“Yeah, just like that.. ride this fucking dick, fuck!” Namjoon exclaims, slapping and gripping your ass cheeks as you continue to ride him.

“Daddy!” Your head thrown back in ecstasy at how his thick cock fills you up completely, stretching you like no other. You ease your fingers down to your clit, giving your sensitive bud some attention. Skin slapping against skin, heavy panting, and harsh slaps on your ass fill the cramped space. Your moans continue to draw out, as you fuck yourself onto him and gradually ease your pace, making sure not to burn out so quickly. However, Namjoon craves for more — to be in control and fully dominate this moment. Your added comment drives him to thrust his cock up into you repeatedly, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

“Fucking give it to me! Ughhh, fuck yes!”

Your eyes roll in the back of your head, he senses your orgasm slowly approaching - your walls clenching around his shaft repeatedly.

“Fucking look at you,” he slips in between breaths, “Falling apart on my dick. Such a slut for your best friend.”

Slap.

“You can’t even think straight with me pounding this little pussy out.”

Namjoon eases his thumb onto your clit, drawing out circles with harsh pressure making sure you writhe above him.

“Take this fucking dick,” he demands while giving you one last blissful smack to your ass and ramming into your sweet spot with no mercy.

Slap.

And then you spill over the edge.

Woosh.

For the first time Namjoon makes you squirt, your juices spraying like a sprinkler and soaking his clothes, dripping down your legs and onto his carseat. Your fingers entangle themselves in his blonde strands, pulling tightly and lightly grazing his scalp. A cry of ecstasy falls from you and you can’t form audible words. Your orgasm takes full control over you, causing your body to tremble and your core to contract violently around Namjoon, whose rapid thrusts have slowed down and eventually became sloppy. He grips your hips hard enough to leave an imprint behind, yet the feeling of his fingers digging into you grant an odd mixture of pain and pleasure.

A lengthy moan falls from him, his hips stilling inside you as his cum spurts up in streams, coating your insides with all of him. Heavy panting emits from the two of you, as you both attempt to gain back your normal breathing pattern. Your face falls forward onto Namjoon’s shoulder, his cock falling soft from within you. His fingers draw circles on your back. Every fibre in his being wants to break the silence each time after you both fuck each other.

You being his best friend doesn’t remove either of you from this situationship you both are in. So, what is he supposed to say? Good job? Can’t wait for next time? That was great? Or maybe even worse... I love you? No, surely it couldn’t be love, right? Namjoon cares about you, like a best friend should. But is it normal to fantasize about your best friend naked, when you’re masturbating? His warm breath envelopes your ear and sends a shiver down your spine. His finger stops drawing circles suddenly, after feeling you tremble within his touch.

Although, there was one thing Namjoon couldn’t deny. That something deep down within himself that made his insides flutter whenever you’d lose yourself to his touch. It's the idea that he’d gained that much control over you. And he’d be damned if he ever let anyone get a piece of you the way he’s gotten you. He was going to make sure it would never happen.

Because you’re his, even if you aren’t.

[allisondraste]

Temperance (39/42)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:   Liss wakes up from a nightmare, and Nathaniel is nowhere to be found. 

Notes: This chapter is a bit heavier with the canon-typical violence than most, so please take care of yourselves if that’s a trigger for you. 

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

[AO3 LINK]

Vigil’s Keep, 9:31 Dragon

Liss’ eyes fluttered open, heart already rattling her rib cage before her vision adjusted to the dim light of the room.  Clanks and clashes of swords and shields rang out nearby. It was familiar, as if she’d read it in a book, saw it in her dreams, yet it was blurry, masked by a drowsy fog.  Where was she? Why was she so afraid?

A dog growled and barked just feet away, and Liss sat up abruptly.  Bear. It was unlike the quiet, gentle hound to make any sound in the middle of the night. So, distressed barks and growls spaced intermittently between bouts of pawing and scratching at the door was a little more than alarming.  Sliding out of bed, stone floor cold against her bare feet, Liss approached the door and knelt down to examine Bear more closely. He panted and whined, looking desperately between Liss and the door.

“Lady Elissa,” cried a frantic voice from the other side, followed by three sharp raps against the wood.  

Liss looked at Bear whose ears flattened down against his head.  She took a deep breath and quietly grabbed a spare fire iron that leaned against the wall next to the door, very aware she was in nothing more than her nightclothes and completely unprotected.  She straightened her posture and opened the door hesitantly.

“Soldier,” Liss said, holding her chin up and responding with her best attempt at authority, “You best have a good reason for waking me.”

“My lady,” the man said, relieved, sweat and blood dripping from his forehead, eyes wide, breath shallow, “Thank the Maker you’re alive. You have to—“

He was interrupted by the sword suddenly puncturing his chest.  Liss gasped and watched the man, one of Highever’s own soldiers, fall to the floor, dead.  She brought her eyes to the assailant who now prepared to attack her, shield and cuirass bearing the Howe family crest.  Bear pushed in front of her, growling and baring his teeth. Anger swelled in Liss’ chest and she lunged at the attacker, swinging the iron as forcefully as she could.  She knocked his sword out of his hand while he was staggered, picked it up, and used it to pierce upward into a convenient gap in his armor.

She had never killed a person before.  She never even thought she would have to.  She was a skilled warrior, trained in combat; however, she was trained in peaceful days.  Her swordsmanship was reserved for dueling rinks and tournaments. Not this. Not taking someone’s life.  She shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of the memory of the noise he made as he died, pretended that his blood was not spattered across her face, that it was not seeping into the hem of her gown.  She did not have time. There was more shouting and fighting just down the hall, and she was in charge of the castle.

With nothing more than a blink and a breath, she found herself kneeling on the floor in the room where Fergus’ family resided.  She cradled Oren in her arms, rocking his tiny little body as if he were only sleeping, ignoring the cold touch of his skin and the stiffness in his limbs.  Mama stood in the corner, with her back turned, sobbing and overcome with grief. Liss trembled as she lay her nephew back down on the bloodstained rug, glancing only briefly to the body of her sister-in-law that lay close by.  She could feel herself breaking inside, resolve to survive, to protect the castle dissolving beneath the weight of what she had already lost. Maker, take her instead. Please. Take her instead.

Another blink and she stood at the entrance to the family’s hidden passageway out of the castle, watching her mother hold her father  while she hummed and attempted to apply pressure to a deep wound across his abdomen. Liss’ blood turned to ice and she was frozen, numb, unable to cry and scream like the little girl inside of her wanted to.  Papa was dying. Her protector and idol lay bleeding on the floor and she was powerless to save him. Her world was falling apart before her eyes and there was nothing she could do to pull it back together. It took all of her strength to keep her knees from buckling beneath her.

“Elissa, don’t just stand there,” her mother snapped, voice like a splash of cold water to the face, “Bar the door.”

Liss looked around the room.  “But what about Bear,” she asked. She did not remember being separated from her dog, and now she worried for his safety.

An urgent “Sweetheart” was the only thing her mother said, brows slanting sympathetically.  

“R-right. Of course,” she murmured as she rushed to secure the room, ignoring the pit in her stomach and the ache in her chest as she did so.  As soon as the door was sealed, she returned to kneel beside her parents.

“Papa,” she said, words turning into tears, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what, my dear girl,” he rasped, bringing a shaking hand to her face.

“This is all my fault.  I should have been more alert, moved fas—“

“Nonsense,” he interrupted, voice hoarse, breathing labored. “You did all you could.”

He coughed forcefully, and a trickle of blood rolled down his chin.  Mama wiped it away with a makeshift handkerchief she tore from the bottom of her nightgown. She spoke to him calmly, voice so low that Liss could not hear what she said, but she looked frazzled and defeated, jaw set and hands trembling.  She smiled when Papa looked up at her, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.  

“You must escape, Elissa,” Mama said abruptly.

“I won’t leave you behind,” Liss protested, “I can’t.”

Her mother reached forward and grabbed her wristed, squeezing tightly.  “You do not have a choice.”

“But—” “One of us has to leave, find Fergus,” she explained, “You and your brother must go to the King, announce to the entire country what Rendon Howe has done.  Do you hear me?” “Yes Mama,” Liss answered, dejectedly.

Before she could even say a final goodbye to her parents she found herself standing alone, engulfed by complete darkness.  She squinted her eyes and searched for someone, anyone, but no matter how far she ran in any direction, no matter how loudly she shouted, there was nothing but a completely empty void and she was the lone inhabitant.  Lost, terrified, and heartbroken, she fell to her knees and pounded her fists against the ground as her own thoughts echoed around her.  

You let your family die.

It is all your fault.

You should have died instead.

“No. No. No!” She gasped and shouted as she woke up, shocked to find herself clean and warm in a bed.  Still, her whole body shook convulsively until a gentle pressure fell upon her shoulder. She looked up and blinked a few times until the figure standing above her came into focus and became recognizable.  

“Shh.  Easy, love.  You’re all right.” It was the mage — the irreverent, overly forward one who called himself Anders.  He offered her a reassuring smile and continued. “The nightmares are nasty, aren’t they?”

Liss nodded slowly, still not entirely awake, waiting for her body to realize it was safe to relax. She was accustomed to nightmares, but nothing like the one from which she had just awoken.  They had always been brief flashes from the night her family died, as if it were happening to someone else and she watched from a distance. She had never had a nightmare that was so real, so vivid that it was almost exactly like living the horror all over again.

“Other people say they have nightmares about darkspawn, dragons and the like,” Anders explained, “I never have. They’re always about the bloody Circle. What I wouldn’t give for a darkspawn to eat me in my dreams instead.” He laughed, but it was empty and sad.

“Mine wasn’t about darkspawn either,” she answered, mouth turning to cotton as she spoke.

“Here,” said a different voice and Liss turned to see Velanna extending a cup of water to her as if she had read her mind.

“Thank you,” Liss said, taking the cup and steadying it with both of her hands. She brought the rim to her lips and took a long drink. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“Around an hour,” Anders answered, “Which was a bit concerning considering that most people who survive wake up immediately.”

Liss took another drink and then sat the cup down. “Did something go wrong?”

“You had an unusual reaction to the ritual,” Velanna interjected, “You had symptoms of blight sickness, which Wardens do not typically experience.”

“Am I going to be okay?”

“You woke up, did you not?”  The elf smiled gently despite the directness of her words.

“I suppose I did,” Liss muttered, and recalled the memory of the other recruits strangling, dying just before her name was called.  She remembered the wave of dread and panic that crashed into her and held her under. It was all muddled after that, vision going black, falling to the ground, Nate’s frantic voice as he caught her.

Liss’ eyes widened. Everything was fuzzy after that, and Nathaniel’s absence worried her.  Their last conversation had not ended well at all, and shame burned under her cheeks as she remembered his confession.  She had dismissed his feelings entirely, feelings that she’d begged him to talk about for years, feelings that she’d prayed for even after she stopped writing to him. She did not regret her anger—she had every right to be angry with him— but walking away from someone she loved and leaving him to think she didn’t, as if it were some sort of justified response to his poor timing, had been uncalled for.  He had looked so hurt and heartbroken, jaw set as he stepped aside and let her head to her potential demise. She realized now that he had only been trying to protect her from something horrific, and she’d stubbornly accused him of not trusting her abilities. Maker, what if she had finally ruined things between them for good?

“Something the matter?” Anders tilted his head and waved his hand in front of her face.  

“Where’s Nathaniel,” she asked, ignoring Anders’ question about her well-being.

“Probably off sulking in a dark corner somewhere,” Anders joked, clearly not sensing the gravity of Liss’ question.  “You know how he is. I mean, at least I think you do. You two seem to have quite the history.”

Velanna rolled her eyes at Anders and sighed before looking at Liss sympathetically.  “Nathaniel was… rather worried when you did not wake immediately. I have never seen him so upset before.”

“Did he seem angry?”  Liss’ voice wavered as she spoke, betraying her most vulnerable emotions to people she barely knew.

“No.  Not at all.” The other woman frowned, clearly confused.  “Just worried.”

“He was more shaken than anything,” Anders added, “As soon as he trusted that you were stable, he left, said he needed to clear his head.”

“I need to talk to him,” Liss said, grunting and sitting up, struggling against the pounding and throbbing in her head.

“No. You need to rest,” Anders scolded carefully, motioning for her to lie back down, “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“I’m fine.” Liss grumbled as she staggered to her feet, a bit dizzy and nauseous, but no worse for the wear otherwise.  She made her way to the door, turned the knob and heading out into the hallway, stopping only to thank Anders and Velanna for taking care of her.

The halls of Vigil’s Keep were not as familiar and committed to memory as Liss had hoped they would be.  She was not even certain where the bloody stairwell was. She intended to head out to the courtyard. When Nate said anything about clearing his head, it almost always meant archery.  She recognized that it had been a long time since she had actually heard him say that, but she assumed he had not changed in that regard, so not knowing the location of the stairs was a significant barrier.  Unfazed, she continued down the long narrow corridor, taking at least a glance at each door, stopping in her tracks as she saw one that was not entirely closed. Remembering just three years prior when Delilah had given her a tour, Liss was confident that it had been Nate’s.

She knew that it could belong to anyone now,  but her curiosity was piqued and she stepped over to stand in front of it, rapping her knuckles against the wooden surface.  There was no answer, and although she knew it was rude, she nudged the door open further and walked inside, looking about the room.  There were no immediate and obvious signs that Nathaniel resided there, well, with the exception of the Howe family portraits stacked in the corner of the room, including the one of his father and hers that he asked Garavel to save.  She could not imagine anyone else finding value in those old things.

Entering further, she noticed several items littering a dresser near the bed.  The items were strewn about in a way that suggested that a pack had been emptied hurriedly in search of something specific.  Approaching the dresser, she noticed a small coin purse that was mostly empty, several lockpicks, and a whetstone. There were also some tools Liss definitely remembered Nathaniel using to craft arrows, and a small, bronze figurine carved into the shape of a bronto.  She picked it up excitedly, causing it to make a faint jingling noise, and she noticed the tiny crank where it’s tail should have been. It was a clever little music box, she thought as she sat it aside, eyes drawn to an empty envelope and crumpled up piece of parchment that lay next to it.

Taking the ball of parchment in her hands, Liss began to carefully straighten it out, making sure she did not tear it accidentally.  Immediately, she recognized the handwriting as Nate’s and the date at the top indicated that it was from just days before, from Denerim.  She moved her eyes down the page and her heart fluttered. The letter was addressed to her, and she no longer felt guilty for reading it. Walking over to the bed, she sat down on the edge, and began to read.  

Dear Liss,

I think we can both agree that this letter is long overdue.  I am not certain where to begin, other than to say that I am sorry for never writing to you .  I was young, stupid, and hurting so much that I could hardly stand it. Losing you was like losing a limb, some large part of myself that I could learn to live without, but only if I pretended I never had it in the first place.  I am not saying it was a good choice, but it was the only way I knew how to cope. It was selfish and inconsiderate, and I hope that you can forgive me.

I have many regrets, the biggest being that I never told you how I felt about you.  There is no time like the present, I suppose. Even if it is too late, I need you to know, or it will drive me crazy for the rest of my life.

The truth is, Liss, I love you.  I have loved you since the day you crawled out from under my bed on my first night in Highever, and I wasn’t even old enough to know what love was.  I just knew that being near you made me feel better, and that there was nowhere else in Thedas I wanted to be. It frustrated me to no end that you could not see all that I saw in you, that you thought you were so average. You could not be average if you tried.

I want you to know that regardless of where we go from here, no matter what happens between us, I won’t think any differently.  You were my best friend, and all of the memories from my childhood I care to keep are with you and your family. I do not know what I would have done without you.

I missed you, Liss, more than words could accurately convey.  I know you are tired of apologies, but I don’t care. I am sorry that I never told you any of this before.  I am sorry that I was so terrified of my father that I let him come between us. I am sorry if I ever once made you think I didn’t care about you.  I am sorry that I waited until the night before I left to dance with you, to kiss you. More than anything else, I am sorry that I wasted nine years of my life pretending that I could be happy without you.

It is good to finally see you again.

Sincerely Love,

Nathaniel

Tears fell from her eyes, crashing onto the paper as she read, dropping more and more quickly as she reached the end.  It was everything she wanted to hear from Nate, jotted down succinctly in one letter, a letter he’s clearly written just after their reunion and carried around for days, waiting to find the right time to give it to her, or to just say it out loud.  Everything had been so chaotic, he probably hadn’t even had the chance. Each time it seemed they would have a moment alone together, one of them was pulled away for a duty of some sort. Then, she asked to join the Wardens, and one misunderstanding and wrong conclusion after another led them to hang on the delicate thread where their relationship currently dangled.

It was all ridiculous, so completely unnecessary.  They both wanted the same thing. They both needed to have the same conversation.  Liss couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, even as tears continued to fall.

Liss was drawn from her amusement by an abrupt shuffle of footsteps in the hall nearby, too light and quick to be any of the guards.  Before she could move to stand, to return the letter to where it had been, the door creaked open further and Nathaniel stood in the doorway, brows furrowed and head tilted in confusion.  Clearly, he had not expected to find her sitting on his bed when he left his door open. He should have known better.

“Liss,” he asked, as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. She could hear the ragged edge to his voice, the emotion that dared to burst loose. She wanted to see it, hear it, even if it hurt.  It was time that he let her see past that wall of propriety and stoicism he always attempted to maintain when he was most upset.  

“Hey Nate,” she said, attempting to keep her own composure.  She stood up from the edge of his bed, letter still in her hand.  Holding it up to show him, and smiling through the tears. “I finally got your letter.”

[mermurder]

Pretty Little Square - a Jotaro/reader fanfic

i was just a smal baby weeb when i wrote my last fan fiction but the time has come (aka i started watching jjba and hoe out for all the Joestars)

Basically reader is stuck watching Jotaro during detention and things get a little rocky. No smut or nothin’ (yet ;000) but there are some swearsies w/ one directed at the reader so theres that. like i said this is my first fan fic in many moons so is probably trash. Enjoy!

Being at school this late was really starting to creep you out. The empty hallways and classrooms had a very strange aura to them. Like you were in some horror movie. You’d usually wouldn't be here this late if it wasn’t for one of your teachers asking for your help. He had to watch over the kids in detention today but had to leave due to some sort of family emergency. At the last minute he begged you to stay and take their place and you couldn’t say no. As class president, he knew he could trust you to watch over the troublemakers. Actually just one troublemaker. Before he left he handed you a sticky note letting you know who would be coming. Jotaro Kujo was the only name written down. Would he even bother coming? You weren’t even sure what he was in detention for, this time at least. It didn’t matter, he’s done all sorts of things that landed him in hot water. Even almost gotten expelled a few times. If it wasn’t for his saint of a mother he would have been kicked out a long time ago. 

She was such a nice lady, when you and Jotaro used to pal around she treated you like her own daughter. You and Jotaro actually used to be really close. Before your parents divorced you lived in the same neighborhood as the Kujos. Even though you were children your parents teased that you and Jotaro were little lovebirds. In reality you just did the normal things kids used to do. Played in the playground and watched after school cartoons. You two stayed friends all the way until high school. That was when Jotaro changed. The normal, kind kid you grew up with turned into a cold and sometimes cruel person. Now that you were class president you denied ever even knowing him, worried your reputation would suffer if anyone knew you used to hang around with him. You’d never dare tell anyone you used to have a crush on him either.

You sighed and raised your hand to block the setting sun from getting in your eyes. You leaned against the desk in the front of the classroom, waiting. The watch on your wrist showed three fifty-nine PM. Detention started at four. If he wasn’t here by fifteen past you’d leave. You weren’t going to sit here when you could be home studying and applying for scholarships. The classroom door creaked open and you turned to look. Holy shit he actually came. Jotaro stood in the doorway. His hands in his pockets and hat pulled down to shade his eyes.

“Where’s Mr. Ishimura?” he questioned in his signature monotone. You pushed yourself off the desk. “He had something he needed to attend to. He asked me to watch you instead.” Jotaro scoffed and let out a quiet ‘whatever’ and walked over to one of the desks in the middle of the room. He plopped himself down in his seat and propped his feet up on the desk. Just an hour of babysitting and you could finally go home. 

You decided to take a seat at the teacher’s desk. Pulling a book out of your bag you cracked it open and began reading. It was a book about some female warrior destined to fight against evil and defend her people. Your friend pleaded that you read it so you could go with her to see the movie when it came out. Humoring her, you'd already gotten to about the middle. The protagonist was starting to fall in love with the bad boy who’d cast himself out of the village. He was gruff and flippant towards her. But she was drawn to his charms like a moth to a flame. Barf. Who would actually fall for his crap?

The sound of a can cracking open yanked you out of your thoughts. You peered over your book to look at Jotaro. You hoped he just opened a can of soda but this was Jotaro Kujo we’re talking about. He leisurely took a sip from his beer as his eyes darted back and forth across the pages of a book. Was it worth the effort to get up and ask him to stop? Exhaling through your nose, you got up and walked around the desk to stand in front of Jojo. He either didn’t notice you were in front of him or didn’t care. Probably the latter. “Jotaro.” you said, hands on your hips. No response. “Jojo.” Oops you didn’t mean to call him by your childhood nickname for him but it seemed to get his attention. He stared up at you past the brim of his hat. It felt like he was glaring daggers into you. “You know what I’m going to say don’t you?” There was a pleading tone in your voice. Maybe just once he would behave. To your surprise he held out the can to you loosely. You snatched it away from him and gave him a disappointed look. It was practically empty already. Turning away you intended to keep the can to throw out somewhere else, you didn’t want the janitors finding an empty can of beer and thinking you had something to do with it. There was still a small amount of liquid still in the can though. Without thinking you brought the can to your lips and chugged down what was left. Behind you a soft chuckle came from Jotaro. 

“I guess the rumors going around are true then.” He mumbled, not quite intending for you to hear but the silence of the room made it audible. You turned on your heel to face Jojo. “What do you mean?” You asked, equal parts insult and curiosity hanging off your words. He didn’t even bother looking up from his book. “Everyone knows that the senior class president isn’t as straight laced as she makes herself out to be.” Okay sure you had a habit of having a smoke or two after school. And sometimes you’d sneak your dad’s beers if you were up late studying. It wasn’t something you were proud of but it was true. There was nothing to be done about the rumors, it wasn’t the gossip that pissed you off anyway. “You’re one to talk.” Your words cut through the air like a knife. Jotaro’s shoulders tensed and finally for the first time in the past half an hour he’d been with you he looked you straight in the eye. Placing his book on the desk he stood from his seat, towering over you. He looked down at your tiny form. You’d forgotten how piercing his blue eyes were. “What's that supposed to mean.” Your words were sharp but by far his were more intimidating. What had you gotten yourself into?

A familiar heat grew on our face. It was embarrassing being called out on your words. But more than that you were angry. Bottling up how you felt about Jotaro would do you no good. He was here, he had no choice but to hear what you had to say. “I’m so sick of your attitude…” Getting the words out of your mouth was already hard enough, looking Jojo in the eye was impossible. Jotaro was silent. You had no idea what his reaction was but after a short pause you kept speaking. “I might have my own problems but you act like such a jackass!” Gaining more confidence you stepped back and looked up at Jojo. With his hands in his pockets he once again had his hat covering his face. It cast an ominous shadow over his eyes. There was no way to tell what he was thinking. But you could tell he was listening. You already called this giant man a jackass, might as well keep going. 

“You act like you’re better than everyone else, its so annoying. I hate it, everyone hates it! Everyone's too afraid to call you out because they're afraid you’re gonna kick their ass.” The hands at your side balled up into fists. “You’re just...you’re a completely different person.” The frustration you were feeling made it hard to form sentences but you kept firing off anyway. “I remember when we used to play together. You were so nice back then. You loved going to the aquarium and spending time with your mom. Now you act like a complete bastard to everyone! This tough guy act you put on isn’t cool Jojo. I used to like you…now I just wish you’d snap out of it and act right.” Barely audible you added one last thing. “I miss the old Jojo.” 

Years of hearing about Jotaro getting in trouble had manifested into anger about the person you used to know. In your freshman year together you sometimes day dreamed of what it would be like to be Mrs. Kujo. You tried to push the silly thoughts about your best friend down until eventually you didn’t have to. The two of you drifted apart. Jotaro became a delinquent. You became a good student and class president. Feelings of infatuation morphed into anger. You lost your closest friend and now he treated everyone like shit. Now is was all finally out. The impromptu vent session actually felt nice. But now you had to deal with the consequences. 

Before you knew it Jotaro was right in front of you and invading your personal space. He glared into your eyes and managed to trap you between his body and the desk next to you. He leaned down just enough to be able to be face to face to you. “Listen to me.” He growled through his teeth. “Just because our parents made us go on play dates doesn’t mean you know me like the back of your hand. I grew up, things changed. It's time for you to do the same.” He was close enough to you that you could smell the cologne and cigarette smoke on him. You were terrified but also strangely excited. “I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me. I’ll do whatever the hell I damn well please. You have no idea what I've been through or what I’m going through. So you don’t have the fucking right to chew me out about how I’ve changed.” Your eyes began to water and you closed your eyes to prevent the tears from coming, in addition to turning your head away so he wouldn't see you cry. Just like you Jojo had one final thing to say. “The last thing I need is you mouthing off at me and acting like a little bitch!” He didn’t yell at you but his raised voice echoed off the walls of the room. It was enough to finally force tears from you. One or two streamed down your cheek and you felt your lip begin to quiver. You couldn’t figure out why this hurt so bad. You didn’t care about some loser like Jojo anymore. Right?

When you opened your eyes again Jojo was still in front of you but standing straight at his normal height. He looked down on you but he didn’t look pissed like you thought he would. He actually looked kind of sad. The words he said replayed in your head over and over again. The tears came quicker and your chest began to tighten. “Just... just get out.” you mumbled between sniffles. You didn’t want to be around him anymore or for him to see you cry. Though it’s probably too late for that. Jojo collected his things and obeyed. You looked at him as he walked out the door and he gave you a look back. After waiting a moment you let the tears fall as they pleased.

Detention ended early that day. You didn’t care. After that you never saw or heard from Jojo again. He would creep into your mind from time to time but you’d quickly try to think of something else. Now that you were in college you couldn’t waste time thinking about stuff like that. Sometimes you could swear you’d saw someone who looked just like him on campus, but there was no way. A delinquent like him probably ended up on the streets or something.

...Right?

[writingsofmyimagination]

Challenge Accepted (One Shot)

(GIF By Me @writingsofmyimagination)

  this is a gift/request for one of the admins of my BTS facebook group! She’s amazing and I love her a lot! It was supposed to be a drabble but turned out a bit longer. Whoops! It took me ages to actually feel okay about this one!

Hope you enjoy @sibbyjin

Jin x Reader (Tiny bit of Yoongi x Reader) - Vampire AU

Summary: You turn up at Yoongi’s work in search of him, only for his boss to turn up and take an instant liking to you.

Words:2365

Warnings: Blood, Swearing, SMUT (Nothing to drastic, maybe a tiny bit rough, Slightly DOM Jin, penetrative sex)

Happy Reading :)

Your will to keep your eyes open deteriorated rapidly with each swipe, flick and undulation of Yoongi’s tongue pressed in between your legs. The sight of his thick black hair, the pressure of fingertips pressing at the front of your thigh. The sweet sting of the two blood smudged puncture marks on you inner thigh was an overwhelming visual.

Your hands twisted tight in his hair

“Don’t you dare stop…” You warned back involuntarily curling up from the mattress.

A phone vibrated on your bedside desk, intruding over your ‘about to cum’ moaning

You whined in a breathy protest leaving your lips in a pout when he moved away.

“Don’t sulk! You know how strict my boss is” he warned eyes flitting over the text message

“You’re going to hate me, I’ve got to go” Sorrow bloomed and glistened through his blown out pupils as he wiped your arousal from his chin, a move heavy with regret.

“Like this second?” your brows furrowed into deep crevices as deep as your hatred and admiration for his loyalty to his work. You could quite happily strangle his ridiculously attractive and uptight boss; that’s if he didn’t have the capacity to literally snap you in half.

“Yes this second, you’ll know I’ll more than make up for it” he purred into your ear before his leather jacket was in his hand and he whizzed out the door with his ridiculous vampire speed.

//

Three weeks had passed without so much as a text from him. You were by no means exclusive or even dating but this was definitely unusual, you had genuine concerns blossoming within the pit of your stomach that spouted new buds every passing day leaving you with a heavy sense of unease.

//

You were glaring up at the huge corporate building before you,

Having windows everywhere was wildly ironic for a huge vamp company, whether they could day walk or not

The large bare white reception lacked anything that you’d remember about it. You were hesitant in your steps over to the only human… rephrase... being in the room. The soft face offered some warmth to the place, not nearly as much as the honey box smile he gave you after visibly inhaling.

“How can I help you my sweet?” it sounded more predatory than kind.

“I’m looking for Min Yoongi”

“He’s away on business” any warmth from his smile was sucked out by his response, disappointment echoing through his expression.

“Oh, do you know when he’ll be back?” you asked consciously swallowing shallow.

“He’ll be back when I’ll call him back” a sullen voice spoke behind you, your body jolted as you turned to meet the voice.

Wow!

You were met with a tall, broad shouldered presence. Eyes taking all of you in with a greedy stare.

“Tae please cancel my afternoon appointments while I take this little thing upstairs” Obediently behind the desk you heard the tapping of the keyboard keys.

“Oh that won’t be necessary, I just wanted to know he was okay is all” you words rushed out. His defiant hold over you with his eyes informed you he was not taking no for an answer. Yoongi had briefly shown you his boss from a distance, and with this guy’s aura and suffocating dominating presence you was in no doubt this was him. This meant that this guy was powerful, what he wanted he got.

His office matched his position, an expansive space, a large black leather sofa pressed to the back glass blinded wall. The tiled floor was perfect; not a single blemish across the grey tiles. Two straight backed chairs sat empty, lifeless in front of the large desk scattered with paper. It was the only thing that made it look like the room had seen life.

“So you’re the human Yoongi’s been seeing, are you his?” He inquired.

Ugh Vampires and their possessive shit. Your eyes rolled with irritated disapproval.

“No I am not, I refuse to get involved with all of your weird politics” you were firm, probably too firm considering he could slaughter you in a heartbeat if he wanted.

“I see” his eyes danced dangerously, approving your answer. He clicked the door shut behind you, the air that you were now exclusively sharing became saturated with an intoxicating warning.

“Can I go? I really don’t need to be here”

“You can go, but do you want to?” his tone had become so saccharine you adhered to his every move and word. He circled you, a beautiful vulture sensing your wilting control over yourself.

You hated how much vampires could affect humans. Their sexuality was ridiculous and you were a huge sucker for it.

“Don’t even bother lying” he pushed in before you could answer

“I can hear your heart” he added “It’s racing, and I can tell you it’s not with fear”

His forefinger traced your cheek and chin and directed your face directly into the line of fire of his eyes; which you decided in that moment could happily consume you and you’d offer resistance.

The lack of space he’d allowed you would normally have your back up in defensive prickles. Yet here you were subconsciously craving for your space to be restricted even further against him.

“You’re definitely not Yoongi’s?” he asked again

Your eyes rolled in response.

“Uhhh” you sighed “I’m not anyo…” He pushed himself hard into you, the only reason you didn’t fall back and lose your balance was his arm locking around your lower back, his hand strategically resting on your behind. No words could pass your lips, they were halted against the brute force of his own.

“What…are you…doing?” you breathed in between kisses that you were returning without hesitation.

“I want you tell me that I make you cum harder than Yoongi” he breathed at your neck briefly cooling it before resuming heavy kisses; restraining from piercing your skin as your pulse throbbed at his lips. He’s used his weight to gradually push you back far enough that your legs knocked into his desk. Your hands had remained hesitant glued to his sides, fingertips gradually increasing pressure the more you got swept up like a fallen leaf in the heat of the moment.

“Tell me, do you want to let me try?” pausing his thumb and forefinger stroked from your throat to underneath your chin angling it more towards him. You swallowed, hard; attempting to process the consequences of the actions you knew you were about take. You failed.

“Yes…please” instinctively dropped out your lips. Eyes widening in sync with his, Yoongi was one to punish you if your manners slipped.

“Oh a polite one are we” he toyed, your heart pushing adrenaline through your system.

“You don’t need to worry about manners with me baby, as long as you do as your told you can say what you want”

Your skin was riddled with electricity, sparking every time his stroked yours. His fingers tracing the outline of your sides craving to feel the skin underneath your dress. The sweetness stopped there; abrupt as something snapped in his control. He pulled your hips and turned your round, hips slamming against the wood of the desk, your hands diving out to support yourself. Your head fell to the side as his nudged it, exposing your neck for him again, his breath warm, dancing on your skin leaving a trail of goose bumps, breath hitching as your dress was pushed up and above your behind with a rough motion.

Thank god you wear lacy black hot pants as standard.

“As pretty as these are I want them on the floor” he tugged them down and launched them to where he thought they belonged

He pressed behind you with his hand cupping your behind separating the two of you. A gasp caught in your throat as he squeezed, nails beautifully biting into your skin. Instinctively you pushed back into him eliciting a low growl from his lips at your neck.

“Oh you like that huh?”

You’d really like him to press anything further in between your legs to soothe the throbbing ache that had been steadily growing.

“Mmhmm” was all that actually you could muster as his leg kicked your ankle spreading your legs wider.

“You gotta do better than that, words!” he demanded.

“Yes… please” you whined instinctively again.

“Please? I didn’t even ask you anything, tell me what do you want” hands ghosting up the inside of your thigh stole your attention to reply. Exhaling disappointment when his hands dropped away just at the apex of your thighs

“If you don’t ask you don’t get” he prompted, his hands now venturing like an ambushing predator and pulled the zip of your dress, allowing it to languidly slope off your curves.

“This” your hand scrambled and dragged one of his hands. The second his touch was felt you gasped, your clit finally getting some attention. Your head pulled in the direction of the floor by relief. He grunted in response to your folds being so drenched for him

“I haven’t even done anything yet” he breathed, fingers taking over from yours circling at your bud

“Can’t wait to taste you when you cum around my cock. He left you pining for his touch ghosting his hands up your front to drag them round your back to unhook your bra yanking it down and discarded it like it was dirt.

“That’s better” the way he rolled your erect buds in between his fingers intermittently switching between kneading at your chest roughly. The reactions you gave him only made his grip and tugs harder.

“If I had any sort of patience I’d do that all day baby”

“Clear schedule or not I want you…Now!” he added with a growl, he shoved your back gripping at your back

*Whack*

“Fuck” you whined as his palm stung on your behind.

“Not so polite anymore” he breathed. His hands dipped between your legs again teasing a finger at your entrance, it wasn’t enough. You pushed back fully onto his fingers. Stealing a grunt from him, him relishing the feel of your walls.

“Fuck do you feel this good all the time?” he breathed to himself, you response formulation was out of service anyway; head heavy on your arms, bottom lip tight in your teeth. Every moan that his fingers elicited from you grew louder and higher

“UhUh I said your cumming on my cock not my fingers” in response to the breathy whine he dragged out of you as his fingers left you.

“Turn around!” he demanded. You were flushed with carnal desire which had your rummaging at his belt buckle as if your life depended on it. Yanking at him to be firmly in between your legs with patience waning thin. He chucked your hands to lock behind his neck, you arched into chest needing as much of you connected to him as possible. Overdosing on strong kisses. Half satisfied whines clawed through your throat when he coated his cock in your arousal

“Ready for me baby?”

“Can you not fucking tell” you snapped back close to his ear, desperation funnelling through your words.

You were scolded for your attitude with him thrusting into you, nails curling into his skin like claws, teeth stealing a mark on his shoulder after your mouth propelled a line of profanities. Both your moans danced a beautiful duet in the air as you adjusted to each other.

“Jesus Christ Yoongi’s been spolit” he panted. The rhythm he found was unrelenting only slowing when your breathing became ragged. Slowly leaving you in an agonizing stroke before slamming back into you. Your legs becoming tighter at his waist pulling him even deeper into you.

“Want to cum?” a hand slid easily at your throat, halting all movements waist down leaving nothing but pants dry in the air.

“Mmmhmm” you nodded into the dark abyss of his eyes.

“Words baby”

“Yes, please don’t stop” pleading, meaning every word, hoping with your entire being he wouldn’t keep you on edge for long.

“That’s a good girl” he thrust into once, hard. Your muscles tightened around him dragging a grunt from his throat.

So fucking sexy

He nestled comfortably in your neck, the soft dark hair clinging to the side of your cheek adhered by sweat. His hips still snapping into yours, he remained un-phased with the force your nails were indenting in his skin as he was purely focused on sending you over the edge.

“Right there, don’t stop” you demanded, head tipping back; the muscles of your neck craning and twitching against his mouth. His centuries old patience was wearing thin; he had to wait!

Not for too long thankfully. The instant your breathing stopped for a beat and you’re body froze his mouth clamped on your neck, fangs piercing with a force that only heightened every convulsion and every nerve ending ravaging your body. Your blood searing down his throat, accompanied by a satiated growl gurgling at your neck. His grip supporting the back of your neck grew tighter, fingernails biting at your skin. Your climax clawed every moan from you until your throat was dry. His thrust grew harder but more intermittent. The pulses through your system seemed never ending Jin stilled as hips stuttered into you of their own accord his own release taking hold. When his lips lifted to free his grunt, trickles of warm liquid fell down your skin.

“Jesus Fuck!” you exclaimed once you’d regained some control over your body. His tongue mopped up the escaped blood which now stained his lips. His eyes were dancing with red flecks.

“Now tell me Yoongi’s never made you cum that hard” he ordered, confident in the answer you were yet to give.

“Not with his cock” you admitted, soaking the slight confusion slipping onto his face.

“He’s never made me cum that hard with cock but well… his tongue is another matter entirely” suddenly feeling confident enough to not give him completely everything to his ego. His eyebrow cocked

“Well if you wanna play like that, my schedule is now free all day. Challenge accepted”

[prairiesongserial]

11.14

John passed silently under the hanging lights, hands in his pockets, appearing to be just another body wandering the carnival. Circus, he told himself. A firecracker burst somewhere behind him, bathing everything in red as it let out a piercing whistle and pop. John set his teeth and kept walking.

He had heard thirdhand that Cody wasn’t here anymore - was off doing errands, something like that. He hadn’t seen Friday or Val in hours. John paused, back pressed against the railing, as a flood of circus-goers tramped onto the boat. He was almost to the ramp that led down to the pier, but the tide of people was unrelenting.

Very small children ducked between the legs of adults, apparently unclaimed. The older children washed through like riptides, jostling the adults out of the way, occasionally cackling and apologizing over their shoulders. John watched as a very little girl struggled with single minded focus to pick a dropped coin from the deck of the steamboat. The crowd passed slowly around her, their boots landing within a hair’s width of her tiny fingers. John had the urge to scoop her out of their way. Running footsteps somewhere in the crowd - getting nearer - and John lurched forward, not sure what he was doing.

The head of his cane thudded softly against the chest of a gap-toothed boy less than twelve years old. John staggered, the weight of the collision with the boy, however slight, going straight to his knee. He glanced down for the little girl, but she was gone. She was crying and kicking in the arms of a man with another, slightly older kid clinging to the leg of his pants. She pointed to the lost coin and hollered as her father carried her away.

The gap-toothed boy had circumvented John, and was gone in the crowd. John stepped back to his place on the railing, feeling a hard pit in his stomach. The crowd ebbed, leaving John an opening to hurry down the ramp. He walked as quickly as he could, cane sliding uselessly on the decline. His head stopped buzzing, finally, as the noise of the steamboat became a distant object separate from himself.

John walked. The sun was almost finished setting by the time he found what he was looking for. A long, circuitous walk had led him through a tangle of boardwalk, but eventually, John had reached land. On the high ground right at the edge of the city, the last of the sunlight glinted teasingly off the headlights of the circle of circus trucks. John plodded on, boots sinking in the wet earth.

He was out of breath by the time he reached the caravans. He sat on the front step of one of them for a while, re-tying his boots to give himself something to do while he caught his breath. He had a decent guess as to which caravan was Johannes Madsen’s. John had been paying attention to where the ringmaster went in a day, who he talked to, who else was in charge. That was the prerogative - the only prerogative - of an indenture.

John stood again and calmly crossed to the purple caravan with the bright blue trim. He paused outside the door. Something was whining at him. The shepherd he had met the first night. The animal was chained to a stake in the center of the circle of trucks and caravans, bouncing against his tether excitedly.

John wandered over. The shepherd - H.D. - was not alone. The other shepherds shared his tether, though they either napped through H.D.’s excitement or spared John only mild interest. John found suddenly that he was being jumped on, and then, that he was sitting on the ground.

“Ow,” he whispered. H.D. licked his ear. John fumbled for the collar around H.D.’s neck as the shepherd climbed on top of him.

“Stop that and you can come too,” John struggled to say as H.D.’s tongue lapped over his nose. The shepherd listened, laying down on John’s chest and knocking the wind out of him. John grimaced, looking into the animal’s milky brown eyes for the first time as it stared quizzically down at him. At once, a piercing headache and an accompanying wave of nausea struck John. John looked away, closing his eyes as he finished unfastening H.D.’s collar. The headache subsided.

As John struggled to his feet with the now free shepherd doing excited laps around him, he experimentally met H.D.’s eyes again. The splitting pain in his head returned for as long as he held the shepherd’s gaze.

“Huh,” he said. H.D. bullied her way between John’s legs, making him almost fall again. It was a good reminder that he hadn’t wandered from the circus to rescue children and dogs. John climbed the steps to Johannes’s caravan and opened the door.

In the low light, John could see the outline of a gas lamp by the door, though he hadn’t thought to bring any matches. There was an electric light, too, hanging from a cord overhead, though there must have been a trick to it; the switch by the door didn’t turn it on. John would just have to be fast.

Johannes’s caravan was overwhelming. It looked as if the windows had been left open for the wind to wreck whatever havoc it pleased upon the mountains of papers strewn across the small table in the center of the room. What space wasn’t occupied by paper was crammed with crates of gaudy-colored fabric. The walls were hung with a mix of bright drapes and costumes. On top of every crate and shelf tottered a precarious pile of objects, from little gold-painted boxes to cloth drawstring bags. John blinked down at the table. Amid the sloping stacks of paper and envelopes were coins, a ledger book, and dirty mugs. And John’s own pistol.

He picked up the gun, turning it over in his hands until he was sure it was his. His gun belt had to be around here somewhere. After a few minutes of squinting into corners of the caravan trailer, John found it hung on a hook on the back of the door he had come through.

H.D. started to whine on the other side of the door. The shepherd had only been content to wait for John on the steps as long as the door had been open, apparently. John opened the door again. Now H.D. trotted inside, and the electric light flickered on. H.D. lay down under the table.

Brows furrowed, John buckled his gun belt on and slipped the pistol where it belonged. He returned to the table of papers.

John had seen his indenture to Mister Thomas only once, when he had been about seven years old. It had been the end of the harvest; John had tried to follow a seasonal farmhand a few years older than him. The older boy would come down to Chokecherry every summer and hitchhike back to Washington at the end of fall, and John had wanted to go with him. Mister Thomas had unlocked the big safe and shown John his paper - something that had only been an idea, hard for a child to understand - until that moment.

John remembered the thick paper stamped around the edge in a red design. It was a beautiful document, pretty like the gilded edges of the travelling preacher’s Bible. No matter where you go in the world, this paper means I’ll find you again, and bring you home. Mister Thomas had said that with a smile that had made his eyes crinkle.

John slammed his hand against the table, upsetting an old coffee mug and making his palm sting. H.D. boofed a complaint at him from under the table. John was looking for four of them. Four beautiful papers. He couldn’t read, but he wouldn’t need to.

He shifted through each page on the table, realized that his eyes weren’t focused, that he wasn’t seeing the pages, and shifted through them again.

The caravan door opened behind him. John straightened. He was still holding a short stack of papers, none of them promising. Johannes stood in the doorway, wide-eyed. He was in a black and magenta costume, formal and over the top. His jacket was unbuttoned, revealing the many pockets on the inside, each stuffed full with other people’s coin purses. There was a necklace threaded through his fingers.

“Well, hello,” Johannes said slowly. “What do you have there?”

“The papers, or my gun?” John returned, blinking owlishly at Johannes.

Johannes slowly took off his magician’s hat and hung it on the back of the door. His shiny black shoes were loud on the wood floor of the caravan.

“Which would you rather talk about?” Johannes asked with a lazy smile. He made every move very slowly, but with a performative grace that was meant to communicate to John that he wasn’t the least bit worried. John watched as Johannes deposited all the stolen coin purses, rings, and other jewelry into a simple box of raw wood, the only thing in the whole caravan not designed for flash.

“I want my indenture paper,” John said.

Johannes stopped on the other side of the table, glancing down at the papers John held. John looked, too. The top page bore several signatures. It was meaningless to him.

“They don’t understand yet,” John said. “But I know. And I want my paper.”

“Well, John, that’s a really moving speech,” Johannes said. “You’ve utterly convinced me, and I assure you, it has nothing to do with the fact that one of us has a gun. But Ezra has the papers, and I don’t know where they are.”

John looked down at the paper with the signatures he held. He placed the pages under it on the desk, and held the paper up, starting to tear it from top to bottom.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Johannes said, snatching it from John’s hands. John picked up the next page from the pile and started tearing it, too, until Johannes grabbed it away. “Just wait a second. I need to get back, okay, the main stage can’t start without me. We can talk about this later.”

John stared back at Johannes, unflinching.

“Look, do you want it in writing?” Johannes added. “That I swear I’ll return your indenture to you?”

“No. I can’t read,” John said. At that, Johannes’s posture relaxed, becoming almost easy. John felt that was inappropriate. He unholstered his gun. “I decided to take my paper back instead of killing you,” he said. “That’s your encouragement to keep your word. It’s stronger than writing.”

Johannes stood perfectly still for a long moment before breaking into nervous laughter.

“A man plans, and God laughs,” he sighed, smiling grimly and rubbing a white-gloved hand over his chin. “Your encouragement is enough for me. Now I’m going to get back, unless you’re going to shoot me.”

John holstered the gun again.

“I’ll wait here,” John said, taking a seat at the table. His boot nudged H.D., who he’d forgotten was there.

“What a great idea,” Johannes said, nabbing his hat from its hook and jamming it onto his head, still laughing somewhat hysterically. The papers he had snatched from John had disappeared at some point - not that John was surprised, since Johannes was apparently talented enough at sleight of hand to make a successful pickpocket. Johannes was still muttering to himself as he tramped down the steps. “Fucking paskudnyak, Ezra is going to…”

John took a deep breath, then another. It wasn’t as if he could have left tonight, with Cody who knew where. Although some part of him had thought it was possible.

Under the table, H.D. was snoring. The electric light overhead flickered in time.

11.13 || 11.15