#Looks like i finally figured out how to draw him

[christopher-bangnaldoskzz]

PDA

Pairing: Chan x female Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warning; 18 + MDNI, Fingering, Swearing there is a tone of adult content in this fic please be cautious

READ WITH CAUTION !!!

Summary: Loving Chan was supposed to be the easier thing, but living with him has proven to be anything but easy. When losing you becomes too much, he takes drastic action to keep you as close as possible.

The sound of the front door creaking open jolts you from your swirling thoughts. You glance at the clock on the wall, and a frown forms on your lips; he’s an hour late, and the little hands of fate seem to conspire against you. As you meticulously fasten your shimmering earrings, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, the frustration evident in your eyes. With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you instinctively tug at the hem of your dress, wishing you’d chosen something more comfortable after such a long wait. 

“Baby are you ready?” he calls out from the living room, his voice cheerful and carefree, as if he has been lounging there all along. His casual tone ignites a spark of annoyance within you. How dare he ask such a simple question after leaving you to wait? You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the exchange that is bound to follow. The nerve of him to act as if nothing is amiss while you’ve been left in a whirlwind of anticipation and irritation.

“I’ve been ready for an hour,” you call back, your voice echoing softly in the spacious room, filled with the rich scent of lavender from a nearby candle. You can feel his gaze lingering on you, an intense warmth that sends a delightful shiver down your spine. As he strides into the bedroom, his confident presence dominates the space, making the air feel charged with excitement. He leans casually against the doorframe, the muscles in his arms subtly flexing, and a playful smirk curls at the corners of his lips, hinting at something unspoken. The late evening moon filters through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow that highlights the details of your outfit—a delicate fabric that drapes elegantly across your figure. You catch his eyes as they roam over you, lingering on every detail with a mix of admiration and intrigue, and a rush of anticipation floods through you, leaving you breathless. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice sharp as you pivot away from him. Feeling the fabric of your dress cling to your skin, you slip into your heels. Hearing the satisfying click of the shoes against the polished floor, reverberating in the stillness of the room like a warning bell, you slip into your heels.

“Like what?” he counters, amusement flickering in his eyes as a chuckle escapes his lips. Yet, beneath that light-hearted tone, there’s an unmistakable note of confusion, as if he’s struggling to understand the unspoken tension building between you.

“Don’t even try to deflect,” you say, your frustration bubbling. The intensity of your tone cuts through the light atmosphere, and you feel your heart race with anger. “I’m really mad at you. It’s been a whole month, Chris.” 

As your words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions, you watch his expression shift. The playful glimmer that usually dances in his eyes begins to fade, replaced by a look of realisation that deepens the tension between you. It’s as if the jovial mask he wore so quickly has slipped away, revealing the seriousness of the moment. He seems to understand the weight of your disappointment, and the change in his demeanour only fuels your frustration further.

You watch as he draws in a deep, shuddering breath, his throat constricting slightly as he swallows hard, the action clearly challenging him as he fights to keep his emotions in check. His eyes now shimmer with a poignant blend of regret and steadfast resolve. When he finally finds his voice, it is tinged with vulnerability. “I’m so sorry,” he begins, the sincerity in his tone slicing through the tension in the air. “I realise I’ve been working so many hours lately… it’s completely consumed me.” He pauses, his brow furrowing slightly as he searches for the right words. “But I want you to know that I’m here with you now.” There’s a moment of silence as he steadies his voice, which wavers just enough to hint at the emotional burden he’s carrying. It’s clear that, beneath his earnest words, he is battling to regain the focus and presence required to truly connect in this moment, putting aside everything else that has been weighing on him.

“Let’s just go and get this over with,” you assert with a firm resolve, your voice steady despite the swirling emotions inside you. As you gently brush past him, you stride confidently into the living room, where the heavy air feels almost suffocating with unspoken tension. Your mind races, but you strive to maintain your focus on what needs to be addressed.

His hand finds its way to the small of your back, a subtle yet intimate gesture that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. It’s a touch that speaks volumes, stirring a mix of feelings within you that you can hardly articulate.

“My love, please,” he murmurs softly, his breath warm and intimate against your ear as he leans in closer, creating a bubble of warmth around the two of you. The familiar scent of his cologne wraps around you like a comforting embrace, mingling with the coolness of the evening air. The gentle lilt of his voice adds an almost soothing quality, contrasting sharply with the charged atmosphere that crackles between you.

“Can we just have a date night? I don’t want to fight with you tonight,” he pleads, his eyes holding a depth of sincerity that draws you in. His earnest gaze captures your attention fully, and for a fleeting moment, you notice the fatigue etched in his features—a tiredness that hints at deeper struggles. A longing flickers in his eyes like a fragile candle flame, illuminating his silent plea for connection and intimacy amid the storm of emotions swirling around you, as if he’s reaching out, hoping to bridge the gap that has formed between you.

“Let’s just go,” you reply, your voice steady yet soft, a sense of determination underlying your words. As you pick up your bag from the polished kitchen bench, the cool, smooth surface feels refreshing against your fingertips, a stark contrast to the warmth of the moment.

His gaze lingers on you, and he smiles slightly. “I must say, your dress is absolutely stunning tonight,” he remarks, his voice low and appreciative. As his hand glides along your back, the gentle brush of his fingers ignites a rush of warmth that travels like electricity down your spine. The fabric of your dress shimmers softly under the kitchen lights, reflecting a myriad of colours that harmonise with the energy of the evening.

It was no mere coincidence that you selected the enchanting black Chanel dress for the evening. The deep V neckline elegantly drew the eye along the delicate curve of your back, gracefully highlighting the gentle arch that culminated at the small of your waist. The carefully crafted silhouette balanced a sense of audacity with refined sophistication, embodying a captivating allure that you wore with confidence.

As you stepped out of your shared apartment building, the cool night air enveloped you like a whispered promise, brushing softly against your skin. Chan rested his warm hand gently on the small of your back, a gesture both reassuring and grounding amid the vibrant hustle of the city nightlife. His presence radiated calmness, a striking contrast to the excitement bustling around you.

With a charming smile that lit up his face, he made his way around to the passenger side of his car, his movements deliberate and graceful. He paused, taking a moment to appreciate the way the fabric of your dress caught the fading light. As he opened the door for you, his eyes flickered with admiration. He leaned in slightly, expertly tucking in the hem of your Chanel dress with a tender touch, ensuring that it cascaded down perfectly and that every detail was immaculate. 

With a soft click, he closed the door, sealing you inside the comfort of the leather interior, where the inviting aroma of aged, tanned leather mingled with a hint of his cologne, creating an intimate cocoon against the lively backdrop of the city. The world outside buzzed with energy, but inside this moment, there was a serene connection between you and Chan, an unspoken understanding that tonight was special.

As you navigate the vibrant streets of Seoul, the neon lights flicker and dance off the sleek glass buildings that tower above, casting a warm glow on the bustling city below. A sense of belonging washes over you as if the city’s essence resonates with your soul. Beside you, Chan occasionally sneaks a glance your way, a soft smile on his lips. His hand rests gently on your thigh, reassuring as he expertly steers through the lively traffic, the city’s rhythm pulsing in sync with your heart.

As you finally arrive at the restaurant, the valet swings open your car door, offering a courteous gesture. Taking a deep breath, you step out and see Chan waiting just a few paces away. He extends his hand toward you, a hopeful look on his face. Still, the anger inside you overrides any desire for civility. With a determined stride, you bypass him completely, ignoring the outstretched hand, and push open the heavy wooden door of the restaurant, your heart racing with frustration.

As you enter the dimly lit restaurant, the waiter approaches with a warm smile, ready to escort you to your table. Just then, you feel the familiar warmth of Chan’s hand resting gently on your back, a subtle yet electric gesture that sends a thrill through you. He leans in closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “Two can play this game, y/n,” his voice laced with playful challenge. The waiter turns to lead you toward your private room. 

The waiter gracefully approached your table, gently pulling out your chair and tucking you in courteously as you settled into the cushioned seat. A moment later, Chan slid into the chair beside you, offering a nod of acknowledgment to the waiter. “Please take your time to get comfortable, sir,” he said invitingly, gesturing toward an elegant ashtray resting on the polished surface. “It’s available should you or your wife decide to indulge.” He exited the room quietly, leaving you in a cosy, relaxed ambience.

“Wife?” you ask, glancing at Chan, who has leaned in closer, his gaze sweeping over your body. There’s a hunger in his eyes, a primal desire that makes you feel like the main course laid out before him, tantalising and irresistible.

With a playful grin, he replies, “Hopefully… one day,” before casually retrieving a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. The smooth motion of his hand draws your attention, and you can’t help but notice the confidence in his demeanour.

“Did you want one, baby?” he offers, extending the packet toward you as if presenting a gift. It’s a gesture that annoys and charms you; he always seems to know just the right thing to say, even when you’re wrapped in a whirlwind of anger towards him. The sweetness of his tone feels like a double-edged sword, cutting through your frustration while simultaneously intensifying it. You wonder how he can remain unruffled when you’re fuming inside, and it gets under your skin.

“We need to talk,” you say, taking a deep breath as you turn to face him. Chan takes a moment to light his cigarette, the soft flicker of the flame illuminating his face for just a second before he finally meets your gaze.

“I know I’ve messed up, Y/n…” His voice is laced with regret as he runs a hand through his hair, his eyes searching yours. “I’ve been so absorbed in my work that we haven’t even seen each other in a month.” He places his hand on your thigh, his touch warm yet failing to offer the comfort you desperately crave.

“Chris, we live in the same house and sleep in the same bed,” you respond, your voice trembling with frustration and hurt. “If I had known that moving in with you would feel like this, I would have never sold my apartment. I was happier living alone; I felt less lonely, at least then.” The words spill from your lips, each a heavy reminder of the isolation wrapped around you like a suffocating blanket. “Do you understand just how lonely this has become for me?” You finally exhale, the weight of your confession hanging between you.

“I’m truly sorry; I should have been right here with you,” he murmured, his tone filled with sincerity. “Nothing else should have come between us.” His hand brushed against your thigh, a warm and tantalising touch that sent a shiver racing through your body, stirring something deep within.

You reached out, taking the cigarette from his fingers, the tension crackling between you. Drawing in the smoke, you leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against his. As you exhaled the smoke into his mouth, it felt like a moment suspended in time, the closest you’d been to him in what felt like an eternity.

With a gentle urgency, your lips meet his in a tantalising kiss that ignites a spark of desire, leaving you yearning for even more. Suddenly, the waiter steps into the room, breaking the moment and prompting Chan to pull away. “Could you give us about ten minutes, please?” he asks, glancing meaningfully at the waiter. The waiter nods in understanding and quietly closes the door behind him, enveloping the two of you in a sweet, charged silence.

Chan gently slides his chair back, his warm smile inviting you closer. He reaches out, intertwining his fingers with yours, his touch soft yet reassuring. “Come sit,” he encourages, his eyes sparkling with a playful light as he gestures for you to settle onto his lap, creating an intimate space for you.

You rise from your seat, your heart racing wildly, each thump echoing the intense craving deep within you that can only be quenched by his presence. As you move closer, he grips the soft fabric of your thighs, his fingers trailing leisurely up your back, guiding you to settle onto his lap. The warmth of his body radiates against yours, igniting every nerve in your being. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, feeling his strength and warmth as you tilt your chin upwards, allowing your eyes to lock onto his. The world around you fades, leaving only the electric connection that pulses in the air between you.

“We have 10 minutes before he comes back”, Chan smirks as your rest your core against his hard member; you place another kiss on his lips as his hands slide down your body, resting on your ass and pulling you closer to him. 

“You really want to do this here?” you ask, your breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. Your forehead rests against his, the warmth of his skin mingling with yours as the air around you feels charged with tension. Your eyes lock, searching for a hint of hesitation, your heart racing in the silence that surrounds you.

He brushes your lips once more before pulling away. “I will always take care of you,” his thumb brushing against your ass before squeezing. “Anywhere”, his lip brushed against your neck. “Anytime”, he licks up your neck, kissing along your jawline. 

A small moan escapes your lips as you open your neck up to him; he begins to kiss down your collarbone, moving down to between your breasts. Slowly licking upwards before placing a kiss on each breast.

With an earnest expression, he gazes up at you, his eyes searching for affirmation. “We can go ahead and sort this out here… or I can drive you home,” he pleads, the weight of his words hanging in the air as he waits for your decision.

Leaning down, you capture his mouth with yours, opening your mouth just enough, allowing Chan’s tongue to slip inside; another moan escapes your lips as Chan’s hand wanders down, slowly sliding up your dress. His fingertips brush against your smooth, soft skin as he attempts to keep himself from exploring more. Slowly, he uses his middle finger to draw circles along your inner thigh, causing your body to heat up with the anticipation of his touch. 

“Here it is,” he breathes softly, his words barely more than a whisper. You can feel the rapid thump of his heart against his ribcage as if it’s trying to break free from the confines of his chest.

His hand glides further up your leg, his fingers teasing the line of your panties. You gasp as his middle finger begins to trace and tease your entrance. 

“Fuck”, your breathing begins to pick up as the pleasure rises inside your body. 

You moan as Chan’s finger pushes into your core “God” you begin to grind as his thumb begins to work your clit. 

“Shhhh, baby. We only have 5 minutes. How about I finish you off here, and then we can continue once we get home?” His grin takes over, and you nod your head in agreement. 

“I have a month’s worth of orgasms to give you” he silences your moans with his lips as his thumb works on circling your clit. 

“Oh please”, you call, trying your hardest to muffle your moans. The orgasm ripples through your body, causing your body to jolt from pure pent-up pleasure. 

“Good girl”, Chan praises as his watch alarm begins to sing. 

“Times up”, he growls as his finger slides out from your core, causing an overwhelming sense of emptiness. 

A moment later, there was a polite knock at the door that hinted at anticipation. “Just a second!” Chan called out, his voice echoing slightly in the quiet room as he rushed you to get off his lap.

As you settle back into your chair, Chan delicately adjusts the fabric of your dress, smoothing out any wrinkles with careful precision. Just at that moment, the waiter glides into the room, carrying a tray with an air of professionalism, catching you off guard as you take your seat.

“Are you ready to place your order?” the waiter asks with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as he stands at the edge of the table, ready to capture your choices for the evening. The soft glow of the restaurant’s ambient lighting reflects off his neatly pressed shirt, adding to the inviting atmosphere.

Taglist: @daceydeath @krishastumblernow @armystay89 @bakedlilgoonie @cakeracha

[eatfishies]

your touch sets me ablaze | 🔞

summary: Rafayel is determined to make all your worries go away.

or

Rafayel giving his "Miss Bodyguard" the time of her life.

word count: 3.5k words tags: NSFW, rafayel x reader (afab), porn without plot, oral sex (cunnilingus), clit play, swearing, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, squirting and vaginal ejaculation, exhibitionism, overstimulation, public sex (or semi..? idk), pet names, breeding kink, creampie, established relationship fish notes: rafa fingers owo .. that’s it . i jus have an obsession w his pretty fingers ok . hehe hope all of u enjoy <3 ── ao3 link ★ ˙ ̟ | my twt !

The long-awaited day of Rafayel’s exhibition is finally here. She smoothed out her dress, ensuring that there is no speck of dust or any creases. The dress hugged her curves like second skin, a dark blue shade that matches the ocean — she heard it faintly as she fixed herself on the mirror. The tidal waves swished around with fluidity as the birds chirped merrily, giving her a sense of peace despite the gnawing anxiety bubbling up inside her. She sighed, biting her lip as she mulled over her thoughts when the door opened, revealing Rafayel. 

Dressed in a white buttoned shirt, paired with a dark blue suit jacket and black tailored slacks. He looked mesmerizing as he always does whenever she sees him. Many people claim that Rafayel’s paintings are beautiful, each brushstroke has its own story and together, mixed with the soft colors is enough to draw someone in. It was easy to get lost in his artworks hence why his buyers are eager to get their hands on the latest pieces of his art. Every art dealer was entranced by the beauty of it. One could say, if you gaze at his painting, the sight of it could linger in your mind even as you slumber, dancing around and luring you into the depths of the ocean.

He smiled at her, his eyes roaming over her figure appreciatively, “Hey cutie, looking good there.” He walked towards her, placing his hands on her hips, “Why the long face…? It’s my exhibition, not yours.” She knows he was just teasing, trying to quell her dwelling thoughts but she can only give him a faint smile.

“I know that… I just…” She sighed, unsure of how to properly form her sentence. Her mind is constantly racing, overlapping each fleeting thought. “I’ve just been… overthinking about all sorts of things, I suppose. Maybe it’s just the stress of everything…” She trailed off, her gaze drifting to the side.

The Lemurian hummed, studying his lover’s face with deep concentration, “Well, we still have some time left to kill. Do you wanna do something to take your mind off things?” His hands cupped her face gently, making her stare at his handsome face. 

“Uh… I’m not sure.” She responded, still preoccupied with her troubles. 

Rafayel’s hands fall to the side before grabbing her wrist and leading her out of the bedroom and into the center of the studio. He gently pushed her down to the couch, “Stay here.” He said before stalking off to grab something from the desk. She could only watch with curiosity, wondering what Rafayel had planned to distract her. 

When he came back, he was holding a box of Pile It Up. She couldn’t help but smile, already feeling a surge of competitive spirit bubbling inside her. “Oh, you’re so on!” She grinned at him.

And yet, after a few minutes of playing, she felt the same thoughts resurfacing. Rafayel didn’t need to be told twice to know that his partner is deep in her worries, he could see the frown etched on her features or the way she subtly tapped her fingers repeatedly against the block. 

He sighed, standing up and taking a seat next to her, “I hate seeing you like this.” He paused, searching her face before caressing her cheek tenderly, “We don’t need to talk about it but I wished I could take all your troubles away. It makes me sad to see you look so blue.” 

A small hint of guilt crept up, she forced herself to hold Rafayel’s gaze. “I’ll be fine, really. Just… stress, the usual.” She spoke tiredly, relishing the feeling of his hand on her cheek. 

Suddenly, an idea popped up inside the painter’s head. “Then… let me put your mind at ease, yeah?” But before she could inquire, the Lemurian pulled her into a soft kiss, effectively drowning out any single thought she had previously. Their lips moved languidly in a passionate yet loving kiss. His hands slid down to feel her curves, swallowing her needy whimpers as his fingers hiked the hem of the dress up, exposing more of her skin. 

He gently laid her down and pulled away, hovering above her, admiring the way her lips are now swollen and glistened with his saliva. No doubt that the lipstick has smeared onto his mouth as well but he couldn’t care less, slowly inching closer to her most intimate place. She bit her lip, growing impatient at his deliberate and sensual movements but the words of protest died in her throat when Rafayel finally touched her clit, feeling the wet patch growing as he kept stroking her.

“You’re already so wet for me… you sure are eager, aren’t you?” He smirked as she gripped his arms and bucked her hips. “Come on, let me hear your pretty sounds, cutie.” He purred, effortlessly pulling her panties to the side and rubbing her slick folds. A string of moans and whimpers fell from her lips as Rafayel continued to touch her, staring intently as her expressions contorted to one of pleasure. The worry lines on her face, the frown and the anxiousness emitting off of her earlier are all gone, replaced by fervent lust and desire. 

With a swift motion, Rafayel plunged two fingers deep inside her wet pussy. Her velvet walls clamping down tightly as he curled his digits, “Ha…! F- fuck! Raf…” She moaned out, it was the sound that he could never get tired of hearing. Her body writhed beneath her lover’s skilful ministrations. 

“That’s it… keep feeling good around my fingers. You’re doing so well for me, baby.” He uttered sultry and low, pressing kisses on her neck before biting onto the flesh. He knew that once she was clear-headed, she would scold him for leaving a mark, especially when they were both due to attend his exhibition later. But Rafayel couldn’t care less, he was addicted to her scent, her taste, her sounds and everything about her makes him want to lose himself completely, surrendering himself to the woman he holds dear to. 

The heat in her stomach coiled, the tell-tale signs of her climax approaching her as Rafayel fingers her faster and deeper, noticing the pitch of her moans getting louder. Her wet cunt squelched obscenely around his long digits as he worked to bring her close to her release. He licked her earlobe and nipped at it, “Be a good girl and come all over my fingers. Come on, you can do it, can’t you?” 

Spurred by Rafayel’s encouragement, she squeezed her eyes shut as her pussy clenched tightly around his plunging fingers. “I’m… I’m close! I’m gonna come!” She cried out, her cunt clamping down on his digits as she came hard, pussy juice gushing out and all over his hand and wrist. 

“Good girl. You did so great, my little conch.” He pulled his soaked fingers out and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Rafayel felt a swell of pride at seeing the state of his lover like this, she’s no longer concerned with troubling thoughts or anxieties. Only a look of pure bliss. 

He brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them clean, savoring the taste of her. “You taste divine, my love.” A blush spread through her cheeks as she stared at the sight of Rafayel delightfully tasting her essence. 

“But… I’m not done yet. Not even close.” His voice drops an octave lower as he spread her legs wide and tugged her damp panties off, tossing them on the floor. Her cunt fluttered around nothing, dripping with slick from her orgasm earlier. “I can’t wait to devour you.” And with that, he leaned in and lapped her pussy tentatively, keeping his gaze fixed on her face as her fingers tangled in his purple hair, gripping it. 

Debauched cries and moans bounced off the walls along with the erotic sounds of Rafayel eating her cunt out with vigor, like a man starved. “F- feels so good!” She whimpered as the Lemurian held her thighs, spreading them wider, giving him more access to her sopping core. 

Unable to resist, Rafayel delved in deeper, sealing his lips around her clit and suckling the sensitive nub. He flicked his tongue faster, determined to bring his dear bodyguard to her peak once more. The needy sounds spilling from her lips were like music to his ears, urging him on, to give her the pleasure that she so desperately sought. 

“D- don’t stop, Raf! Please!” Her hips bucked wantonly as she ground her slick cunt against his mouth. Rafayel smirked in response, letting her tug on his hair fiercely as he thrust his tongue deep inside her clutching heat, fucking her with his mouth, feeling incredibly turned on and eager to watch her fall apart beneath him. 

He could feel her juices flooding his mouth, could taste her arousal coating his tongue. Rafayel could go on for days burying his head in between her legs, couldn’t ever get enough of her sweet essence. “Come for me. Come on my tongue like the good girl that you are.” He spurred, the words vibrating against her sensitive flesh. 

The all-too familiar sensation coursed through her body as she moaned out, “I’m gonna come! Raf, I’m gonna come!” At that, Rafayel vigorously sucked hard on her clit, feeling her walls starting to flutter and clench around his plunging tongue. He could feel the heat of her core climbing, threatening to spill once more. The Lemurian easily slipped in two fingers, knuckle-deep into her dripping cunt. He pumped them in and out, curling them just so to hit that spot that made his lover writhe in utter bliss. 

It was too much, the stimulation was overbearing as her body tensed, her thighs clamped around his head as she teetered on the brink. Rafayel gripped her hips tighter, holding her in place as he ate them out with wild, desperate abandon. 

“Rafayel!” She cried out, arching off of the couch as her orgasm crashed over her for the second time. The painter moaned as he felt the flood of arousal coating his tongue and chin, lapping it up greedily as she shuddered and quaked beneath him. He could feel the way her walls gripped his fingers, sucking in and reluctant to let go, milking his hand for all it was worth. 

“P- please… too much…” She whined, riding out the intense wave of her climax. Rafayel gave her dripping wet pussy one last lick before pulling back slightly to catch his breath. “I could just drown in your taste for the rest of my life.” He spoke breathlessly, slowly withdrawing his fingers and bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean, just like he did earlier.  

Just as Rafayel was about to lean down and kiss her, the unmistakable sound of his ringtone snapped both of their attention. Rafayel stared down at her, a look of surprise on his face, “Let me get it.” He stood up and walked over to the desk, grabbing his phone. Frowning, he reads the message and pockets it away, looking back at her with a sigh. “It’s Thomas. Says we need to be at the exhibition in 20 minutes.” 

A small part of her felt disappointed at the fact that they would need to go out soon but she wasn’t just the only one whos’ feeling it. Rafayel gazed at her with a slight pout, he had hoped to fuck her silly before they were called to the gallery. But alas, duties calls and if they stalled any longer, Thomas would suspect something was up, even though Rafayel is known for arriving late to his exhibitions or not even appearing at all. 

“Should we just ditch this and not go?” He said exasperatedly, crossing his arms in annoyance. She smiled softly at him, sitting up straight and pulling her dress down, still panty-less underneath. She could feel her own slick running down her inner thighs, a faint blush spread through her cheeks as she briefly recalled the way Rafayel had brought her to climax twice. 

However, her gaze lowered to the sight of Rafayel’s painfully hard and obvious bulge, straining against his pants. Biting her lips, she quickly squashed down any lewd thoughts, refraining from losing her focus by daydreaming about sinking her tight wet cavern onto Rafayel’s thick cock. No, she needs to get it together and actually drag her Lemurian lover to the gallery, lest they face the wrath of Thomas. 

With a reluctant smile, she stood up and bent down to pick up her panties, slipping them on. “I guess it’s time to go. Come on, you pouty baby.” She pinched his cheek, earning a glare from her lover but it lacked no malice, instead filled with tenderness and love. Rafayel sighed dramatically, intertwining their fingers together, “Fine, fiiiiinee.” 

As they began to walk towards the front door, she paused, “Ah wait, I need to grab something.” But Rafayel wouldn’t budge, clasping her hand tightly as he stared ahead. He leaned in and whispered hotly in her ears, “Just keep your panties on. Don’t think this is over just because we’re going somewhere.” Heat rises up to her cheeks at the suggestive implication, was Rafayel planning something? It was a risky move, she knew she should go and grab the short pants to wear beneath her dress but Rafayel only gripped his hold on her, sensing the slight confusion. “Trust me, cutie. I know a way to make the exhibition waaaay more entertaining.” 

Alas, she gave in and nodded, “No funny stuff, alright!” She warned but Rafayel only smiled cheekily at her in response. “I’ll be a good boy and behave, dontcha’ worry, my darling.” He gave her a wink, a silent promise to be on his best behavior, yet there’s a hint of mischief in his eyes.

‧───────────────‧

The gallery was filled and buzzing with prestigious art dealers and other VIP guests, mingling around and admiring the exquisite artworks that were displayed on the walls. She stood to the side, a glass of champagne in her hand as she glanced at Rafayel who is, no doubt, forced to converse with the guests by Thomas. She hummed, taking in the scene before her, it was clear that Rafayel has always been popular but to witness it entirely was a different feeling. It warms her heart knowing that Rafayel is loved and cherished by many people here – a respected artist in his own field, earning awe-struck stares and quiet excited cheers. 

She took a sip of her drink, enjoying her solitude when Rafayel sauntered over to her. “How is my princess doing?” He smirked, standing next to her, his gaze briefly flickering down to the hem of her dress. She could tell a thing or two about what he’s thinking, all of the thoughts are most likely inappropriate. “I’m doing okay.” She replied casually, “Shouldn’t you be talking to your esteemed guests? Wouldn’t want Thomas to come hurling complaints again, hm?” 

At the mention of Thomas’s complaints, Rafayel grimaced and looked away, “Puh-lease, I’m his boss here, not him. He can’t control me, no matter how much he wants to.” His hand found their way on her hips, pulling her close. “Besides, I’m bored. Let’s go somewhere private, yeah?” Before she could voice out her objections, Rafayel immediately dragged her to the quieter, lonely 

 side of the gallery. There were no artworks framed on the walls nor are there any people here to disturb the couple. “Raf honey… are you sure we're allowed here? Isn’t this section of the gallery closed off?” Her voice tinged with uncertainty and maybe a little bit of unease at the blank and empty part of the gallery. 

“It’s fine, no one ever comes home.” He reassured her, letting go of his hand and cupping her face, “Now, it’s just the two of us here.” Rafayel captured her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his pent-up desire from before into it. She could taste the remnants of her pussy juice, rendering her completely into a puddle of mess as Rafayel’s fingers trailed down and slipped underneath her dress with ease. She whimpered against his lips as Rafayel rubbed her clit through her damp panties, soaked from the pleasure she received back in the comfort of his home. 

“R- raf… ah! Mhmm… we- we can’t” She murmured helplessly as Rafayel began to nip at her neck, licking the hickey he left there. It had bloomed beautifully, his mark on hers – a sign to everyone that she was his. Only his. 

Of course, she hadn’t been a fool, she did try to cover up the hickey before they stepped into the exhibition but Rafayel wouldn’t stop pestering her and telling her to just leave it be. In the end, she caved in and proudly showed off the mark, albeit with much reluctance and embarrassment. Rafayel rasped, “Need you… need you here, right now.” 

Swiftly, Rafayel tugged her panties aside and unzipped his pants, freeing his throbbing cock from the confines of his pants. He pressed her against the wall, her back facing him, “N- now?!” She sputtered but Rafayel was already stroking his aching shaft on her sopping wet mound. 

He lined himself up, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at her entrance. Rafayel wanted nothing more than to slam inside, to consume her entirely, his body blazing with need but he knew she was still sensitive from the overstimulation. “Keep quiet, okay?” He whispered hotly before thrusting deep inside her slick walls, burying himself to the hilt, feeling it tighten. 

“You feel so fucking good.” He gripped her hips, staring intently at his lover, biting her lips to stifle the moans and cries of pleasure. Without wasting any time, Rafayel set a brutal pace, hips snapping forward as he fucked into her dripping cunt with deep, powerful strokes. Anyone could walk in on them, going at it like rabbits in heat but all caution and care was thrown out of the window. Rafayel could only feel her wet, clasping heat, determined to bring her to the edge and make her feel good. There was no denying the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, if a guard were to catch them, they would no doubt be in trouble.

Then again, the risk is what makes it exciting. Rafayel groaned softly, nuzzling into her neck as she held back her cries of ecstasy, the familiar coppery tang of her blood sinking into her tongue from biting her lips too hard. Rafayel’s hands slid up to cup and knead her breasts through her dress as he pounded into her. The sensation was too much, her brain was all mushy as her pussy fluttered around him, sucking him in deeper, wanting more. 

Her hands pathetically scrambled to hold onto the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as she desperately tries to not let a single sound fall off of her lips. Rafayel’s voice was low, “You're clenching me so tightly baby. Ha… what a dirty girl, taking my cock like this out in the open. You love this, don’t you?” 

A whimper escaped from her throat as Rafayel slammed his hips forward fast and deep into her dripping, clinging heat. He noticed the way her breath quickened, her face etched in a fucked-out expression, losing herself to the overwhelming pleasure. Her pussy clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering wildly as he drove her closer to the edge. 

Rafayel withdrew from fondling her breasts and gripped her face, turning her towards him as his lips met hers in a messy, desperate kiss, all tongue and teeth as he fucked her towards her release. “Come for me, you can do it. Come one more time for me on my cock.” He murmured against her lips, feeling his orgasm nearing.

He felt her body stiffened, coming undone as he drowned out all her cries with a wet, sensual kiss. Rafayel grunted, his hips stuttering and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her soaked cunt. His cock jerked and pulsed as he pumped her full with his seed. Rafayel pulled away and panted, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, a sheen of sweat trickling down from their coupling. He gazed at her with adoring eyes, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before he reluctantly pulled out of her cum-filled cunt. Rafayel tugged the panties to the center of her clit, covering her as she caught her breath. 

Wordlessly, Rafayel scooped her into his arms around her, letting her rest her head against his chest. Her eyes shut closed, her mind dancing around cloud nine from the intensity of it all.  

“Let’s go home, my love.” He said softly as he made his way towards the exit, ignoring the curious stares and ogles from the people in the exhibition. When Thomas tried to question him, Rafayel dismissed him and continued to walk to his car, gently putting her down onto the passenger seat.

Once they were home, Rafayel put on a bath and scrubbed her clean with much affection. Afterwards, he prepared dinner and cuddled her, staring down at her peaceful expression as she slumber. 

“I love you, my treasure.” He spoke quietly, kissing her forehead before falling asleep with his lover in his arms. 

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Steve Rogers

Summary: Steve and Newbie go on their first date!

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used.

Previous

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Steve can't remember the last time he felt so nervous. Well, no, the last time he was this nervous it was when he was trying to ask you out. But you said yes and now he's the most nervous he's ever been for a date!

He wishes he could grow out of the awkwardness he'd lived for so many years. That he could finally be the cool, confident person everyone thought he was until he started talking. As many muscles as he worked on, it couldn't stop him from being a dork. Especially around a beautiful woman like you.

He sighs fondly, remembering when you'd accidentally run into him, giving him a hug to keep from falling. For weeks afterwards he was kicking himself for not doing something smooth or giving you a cool pickup line or something. Instead he just hugged you back and asked if you were okay. He even stuttered as he spoke! The fact that you agreed to a date was nothing short of a miracle as far as he was concerned.

He'd gone over the itinerary with Bucky enough times that he didn't even have to say anything before Bucky was assuring him it was a good first date plan. Dinner at a diner you'd mentioned liking followed by one of those wine and painting classes. Food first so the wine wouldn't sour your stomach. And painting instead of sketching to avoid complaints that he was trying to prove his superiority.

He still winces when he thinks of Peggy being so angry that he was good at drawing. It was a bullet dodged, yes, but he still hates that she thought he was trying to be better than her. But painting wasn't his strong suit, so hopefully this would be better.

At the same time you're going through your closet, getting advice from Spitfire and Bubbles about what to wear since you don't trust your own opinion. You've been pining after Steve since your first day in the office and he actually asked you out! You don't want him to regret doing so.

"I think you should go casual," Spitfire proposes. "He sees you in your work clothes all the time, let him see what you normally look like outside of work."

"That's a good idea!" Bubbles encourages. "Especially if he's taking you to some more casual places like you said."

"But I wanna be like, sexy or something," you complain. "My casual clothes are just so plain."

"Just wear some cherry red lipstick," Bubbles comments. "He seems the type to go weak for that."

Spitfire nods in agreement. "Plus, if he's as interested as he seems, he's gonna find you sexy regardless of what you're wearing."

"That's true," Bubbles concurs.

You sigh in exasperation. "Okay, okay. I get what you're saying. But I still wanna look...good? I don't want him embarrassed to be seen with me!"

"If he even hints that he is, you let us know and we'll knock him straight," Spitfire retorts, making you smile and giggle. You're very grateful to have friends willing to go to bat for you.

You finally settle on a pair of dark jeans and a pastel long-sleeved t-shirt with your lucky flannel jacket. You feel comfortable and Spitfire and Bubbles are quick to assure that you look good.

Steve is waiting in his car outside your apartment building. He wasn't sure you'd be okay with his motorcycle and figured the car would be safer. As soon as you step outside, he's out of the car and opening the passenger door for you. You smile at the gesture and Steve beams at you.

When your close enough he can take in how you look, he's rendered speechless. You always look pretty when you're wearing your work clothes but now? You look absolutely stunning and he can't believe he's so lucky to get to take you on a date. He stumbles over his words a few times before finally saying, "you look so beautiful!"

Heat rushes to your face and you giggle, making him blush. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," he breathes. You swear you've never felt prettier in your life.

"Thank you," you shyly reply. "You're looking very handsome, too." His blush deepens and he rubs a hand on the back of his head as he mumbles his thanks.

You take your spot in the passenger seat and Steve, all smiles, gets into the driver seat, feeling like he's walking on air.

The drive to the diner is mainly spent with each of you trying to say something but accidentally interrupting each other, followed by awkward giggling.

"This is a really nice car," you finally manage to get out.

"Oh, thanks," he blushes. "It's old, but definitely reliable. And way more comfortable than the Beetle I used to have."

"You used to have a Beetle? How did you fit?" You slap your hand over your mouth in embarrassment as you think about how rude your question could be.

Thankfully he laughs. "It was when I was a lot smaller. I used to be really scrawny."

"Really?"

"Had a lot of health problems growing up," he shrugs. You give a consolatory "aww" and he continues. "Finally got the medical help I needed and now I'm..." he gestures to his physique.

"I'm so glad you got your health in order. I can't imagine how frustrating it would be."

"Admittedly, I took that frustration out on others. Bullies, specifically, just so you know. They kept poking fun at me, so I kept fighting back."

"That's so brave of you! I'd have run away and cried." Like I do at work, you think.

"Bucky definitely wishes that was the case for me," Steve chuckles. "The number of times he had to come to my rescue..."

You chuckle at that. "So you've been friends for quite some time?"

"Yeah. He's also the one that, once my health issues were under control, helped me figure out a workout so I could be less scrawny."

"That's so good of him."

"He did make me promise that I'd stop fighting so much but I still get so riled up around bullies."

You place a hand on his arm, "well thank you for not punching my boss, bully that she is."

"Yeah, well..." he stutters for a bit, his face turning redder. "If she ever gets to be too much, you just let me know, okay? I'm good friends with HR."

"Thank you, Steve."

As you get more comfortable around each other the date becomes filled with laughter and bad jokes. You leave the diner with full bellies and big smiles.

At the class, you haven't even sipped at your first glass of wine but you can't stop giggling with Steve. The teacher for the class tells everyone there's no pressure to be perfect so don't worry about any mistakes. Steve leans into your ear and whispers, "just brush it off." You have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing out loud but he feels the way you're shaking with laughter and his eyes sparkle when he looks at you.

"Don't get too confident," you whisper back. "I'm easel-y impressed." Now it's Steve's turn to bite back a laugh while visibly shaking.

"You know why you should be careful around artists?" Steve whispers. "They're pretty sketchy."

"I still can't believe you're real," you whisper back, "and not just a pigment of my imagination."

Neither of you wants to disrupt the class but you just can't help how good you're feeling. How comfortable you both are with each other. How much more relaxed the atmosphere of the date has gotten. And you can't even blame the wine since you've barely finished a single glass.

The only time Steve freezes up is when you snuggle up to him, putting your head on his shoulder while you think about what color to pick next. He swears his heart stopped in that moment but he never wanted it to end.

The only moment that topped that was when he dropped you off back at your apartment. He walked you up to your building, like the gentleman he is, and you actually kissed him goodnight. It wasn't a deep kiss, but it was still full of affection and warmth and Steve wanted to drop to his knees and thank you. You giggle at the lipstick left on his lips and try to rub it away but he stops you, his smile never dropping.

"Can we do this again?" he pleads.

You give a shy nod, "next weekend?"

"Next weekend," he confirms.

Next

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen;

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[coffeecat1983]

Super Paper Mario AU for @dreamyluigi

Pt 1 here

Pt 2: Warning for self harm, blood, character death.

   "He's wanted this." L cackled. "You think you're a good brother, that you support him, but you've no idea how he screams inside." His eyes shifted back to solid grey. He stared at Mario as he raised the dagger.      "He's begging for it all to stop. Has been begging, even before I took over. Maybe I should oblige him." he swayed again, arm out. "How should I do this? Wrists?" he pressed the blade's tip to the tender skin, drawing a prick of blood. "No, too slow. The throat?" Mario's stomach lurched, the dagger gliding past Luigi's neck before lowering. "No. A dramatic's way of going out. I should make this more simple. Show him what a knife to the chest really feels like."    His face shifted, one eye turned blue as two voices spoke and Luigi stood. "I'm so tired of being alone."      "NO!" Mario couldn't move, couldn't breathe as he saw the blade seek shelter in a blanket of flesh and bone. The figure swayed more as blood began to pour out, a crimson river that quickly pooled around his feet. His hand fell away from the blade and he looked up at Mario.      "Heh, I, I didn't think it would hurt so much." he uttered.    Diving forward Mario caught him as he fell. "Weege!" he choked out, tears falling faster. Tippi was silent, floating nearby as she watched it all unfold. Mario's hands shook as he pulled his little brother close and stroked his cheek. Eyes fluttered open, bright sapphires matching his own returned his gaze.      "M-Mario?" Luigi had grown pale, his voice soft. "W-Was, was havin' a bad dream. Kept, kept tryin' ta talk to you." he shivered, his head resting against Mario's chest. "So-Somebody kept talkin' over me. Din't, din't like him." he mumbled, eyes closing again.      "Weege." Mario sobbed out. "Luigi, stay with me, please!"      "S's cold. Mar'o, can we go home?" Luigi cringed, trying to hide his face against his brother. Fingers weakly gripped at his overalls."S's so cold here."    Mario trembled with another sob. "Y-Yeah, yeah Weege, we can go home. Just please, stay with me!"    A faint sigh, a breath that took with it the final heartbeat.

A month later...    Whispers could be heard throughout the early morning air of the marketplace. Toads murmured to one another once the hero of the Mushroom Kingdom was out of earshot.      "Whadda ya think happened?" one customer commented. "He looks so, so haunted."      "Beats me." the stall owner replied. "You're right though, poor guy looks like he watched the world end."      "I'll tell you this," a third chimed in. "Don't ever say anything bad about his little brother when Mario's around. Someone said something the other day and I thought Mario was gonna kill em just from the look alone! I don't know what he's been through, but it must've been serious." All three watched the man in red as he continued on his way.    Following the path to the little mushroom house, Mario unlocked the door and quietly went in. Soft footsteps on the stairs made him look up, a smile of genuine warmth making his eyes sparkle.      "Hi big bro!" Luigi greeted him, cheerfully taking the bag with the groceries from his hands.      "Hey Weege." Mario returned the greeting and followed him to the kitchen. "You feelin' okay?"    Luigi nodded as he began putting the food away. "Yeah, donno why I'm getting that weird pain in my chest but hey, the doc says I'm fine and it's no biggie." he tilted his head. "How 'bout you? You been getting up early a lot lately."    Mario rubbed at the back of his neck, the nightmares he'd been having briefly darting through his mind. "Y-Yeah, I'm okay." he went to the cupboard and pulling out two mugs, held one up. "Tea?"     "Sure."    As Mario filled the kettle, he glanced over his shoulder. "Hey Weege, I was thinkin'."      "Yeah?"      "Next time something happens, I want you to come with."      "R-Really?" There it was. That nervousness, that hint of 'don't leave me'. How had he never heard it before? Swallowing the knot in his throat, Mario nodded.      "Yeah, I mean, we are the Mario brothers. Can't have the super team without you."    He nearly dropped the teabag as Luigi grabbed him in a hug. Releasing his big brother, Luigi returned to his seat. His pajama top, unbuttoned from his own restless slumber, had fallen away to reveal the faded mark over his heart.

   A mark that Mario blamed himself for, for the rest of his life.

END By "CC"

[icequeenliafics]

Jayvik Highschool AU - Part2

Context: Vi and Jayce plan a surprise bd party for Cait and flop HARD. The whole gang helps. JAYVIK! Chaos!

Jayce parked his car in the open garage of Viktor's house. He pushed the horn twice to let his friend know he had arrived, before killing the engine.

He pushed open the door of his car with a giddy smile on his lips, that tingly sensation buzzing in his stomach again. He was about to see Viktor and his body knew it.

Jayce didn't bother to shut the door when he climbed out of the car, instead walking to the little side-door, connecting the garage to the kitchen.

"I'm here!", he called as he stepped inside.

"So, I figured", Viktor said, standing by the counter, back turned towards Jayce as he studied some papers. "Hello, Jayce."

Jayce's smile only grew as he walked towards his friend with quick steps.

Viktor didn't even flinch when Jayce wrapped his arms around him from behind, gently resting his chin on his shoulder. He made sure to only rest the weight of his head onto Viktor, the rest of his body was carried by Jayce's own legs to not strain his friend's bad leg.

"You're studying?"

"Always", Viktor said, placing one hand on Jayce's arm, leaning into him like it was second nature. "Finals."

He sounded concentrated, his eyes skimming the notes from their last math class.

"You know you're allowed to take a break now and then", Jayce said, also skimming Viktor's notes now.

"Not if I want to score highest in class." Vik turned the paper, revealing his scribbly equations.

Jayce smiled when he found little drawings scattered all over the page. Viktor always let him doodle on his notes when Jayce got bored in class.

"Think you're done soon?", Jayce asked, finger absentmindedly tracing the back of Viktor's hand.

"Two minutes", Vik muttered, not looking up once.

Jayce sighed in defeat. "'Kay", he muttered, settling more comfortably against Vik's shoulder. "Wake me."

"M-hm.

Jayce huffed out a smile and closed his eyes.

This was nice; standing in the warmth of the kitchen with Viktor settled against his chest, a comfortable weight against him.

Jayce could hear Viktor breathing, the rhythm soft and even, and smelling faintly of honey.

Vik was muttering under his breath, repeating the equations on the paper and explaining to himself how he came to the right solutions. Explaining your calculation method was necessary in a test, in order to avoid point deduction.

Jayce felt more than comfortable listening to his friend's soft voice, his stomach filled with raging butterflies. He kinda wished they could just stay here like this.

"I'm done", Viktor said, leaning further back against him. "Wake up now, you are quite heavy."

"Sorry", Jayce muttered, pulling away and settling against the counter to face Viktor. "Did I strain your leg?"

Viktor grabbed his cane, giving him the side eye.

Jayce smiled knowingly. "You're fine, I get it."

"Sharp observation", Viktor said, turning to leave the kitchen, one hand on his cane, the other holding his notes. "Follow me."

"Where?", Jayce asked, pushing off the counter.

"My room", Viktor answered.

"You forgot something?" Jayce paced his steps so they matched Viktor's.

"No, but you came here for the fireworks, did you not?"

"Mostly I came here for you", Jayce said before he could stop himself, ears burning up immediately. "But the fireworks too, sure."

Viktor looked at him with a soft frown, studying his face. Jayce could feel the blood shooting to his face. Why was he so flustered today?!

He quickly averted his eyes, fingers scratching at the back of his neck.

He heard Viktor's gentle chuckle next to him, like he was amused by his weird behavior. Jayce wished for the ground to swallow him up.

The door to Viktor's room stood open, revealing walls cluttered in formulas and all kinds of tinkerings hanging from the ceiling, some of them made by Viktor, but most of them gifts from his parents.

When they were kids, Jayce loved to visit Viktor's home, because it meant they could play with his cool toys. The perks of having toymaker parents.

"They are under the bed", Viktor said, lifting the throw blanket with his cane, revealing the space under the bed stuffed to the brim with firework batteries.

Jayce's eyes grew big. "You slept on those?"

Viktor frowned. "Yes."

"Why?", Jayce asked with an incredulous look on his face. "Why couldn't you just put them into the garage?"

Viktor let the blanket fall down in order to stand more comfortably.

“Good idea”, he mused. “I could have just put the illegal fireworks into the garage, where my parents could have a good, long look at them.”

Jayce blinked. “But wouldn't your mom have seen them anyways? I mean, she was supposed to drive you today.”

Viktor pointed his cane at one corner of the room. “Open the wardrobe”, he said with a smirk.

Jayce frowned, doing as he was told. “What am I supposed to see?”, he asked when all he found inside were ironed shirts and sweaters.

“Behind the clothes”, Viktor said.

So, Jace brushed them aside, finding hidden away behind them almost a dozen rolls of wrapping paper.

He heard the familiar creak of Viktor's bed behind him as his friend sat down with a soft sigh.

“I originally planned to wrap up the batteries, so they would look like a present for Caitlyn”, Viktor explained.

Jayce turned around to look at him.

“What would you've told her if she asked what was inside?”

He didn't say it out loud, but a big present indicated a big price tag. Since Viktor's family wasn't too wealthy, it obviously would have raised questions.

Viktor shrugged, that attractive smirk still on his lips.

“That it was a present from you that you asked me to hide away, so Caitlyn would not find it at your place”, he said.

“That's … clever.”

Jayce's eyes wandered down to the throw blanket covering the fireworks. It made him nervous to know Viktor was sitting on them, but he restrained himself from making a fuss.

“And also kinda diabolical”, Jayce added. “Do you often lie to your parents?”

Viktor raised a brow at him and Jayce quickly lifted his hands. “Not judging, of course!”

Viktor let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “It does not do them any harm in this case, does it?”

Jayce's eyes wandered down to the blanket again, and he squirmed at the thought of half a dozen illegal firework batteries resting right beneath his best friend's butt.

“I guess not?” He was still staring at the blanket, switching from one foot to another.

“Just as it does not hurt them when I keep quiet about your occasional nightly visits through my window, right?”, Viktor asked, causing Jayce to look back up at him.

There was that smirk again, the slight quirk of his brow. Jayce felt his ears burn up, his body tingling with heat.

“Right”, he rasped, quickly averting his eyes.

And then, because he really wanted to change the subject and it was the only other thing he could think of: “Could you please not sit there? You’re freaking me out.”

Viktor frowned. “I should not sit on my own bed because it freaks you out?”

“Fireworks”, Jayce added quickly. “The illegal batteries under your bed?”

Viktor looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

“What, are you afraid my butt could light them up?”

Jayce refrained from answering that Viktor indeed had a really hot behind, but he managed to do so barely, his brain firing neurons too quickly to keep up.

“Please?”, he asked instead.

Viktor still didn't seem too worried about the potential explosions beneath him, but with a roll of his eyes and a soft sigh, he heaved himself up onto his cane.

“There, happy?”

“Very”, Jayce said with a grin that hopefully didn't look as nervous as he felt.

He forced himself to get past himself, walking towards his friend.

“Now move, so I can put these into the - what are you doing?”

Jayce's confused frown turned into a blush very quickly when Viktor lifted a hand to his face.

“Hold still”, Vik said unnecessarily.

Jayce was frozen on the spot.

He felt heat shoot into his cheeks at the gentle touch of Viktor's fingers against his brow, pressing down ever so softly as if to wipe something away.

When he pulled back, he kept standing right there in front of Jayce - When had he come this close? - inspecting the purple smudge on the tip of his finger.

“What is it?”, Viktor asked, looking up at Jayce with his beautiful amber eyes.

Air. What was air?

“Cake frosting”, he rasped, his lungs denying him.

His heart - oh god, his heart! Jayce could feel it pounding against his ribcage. Could Viktor hear it too? Oh no, could he?

If yes, he didn't show it, simply looking back down at the frosting and then -

Jayce's mind blanked for the fracture of a second.

Why? Because he was a teenage boy and as such he was only so strong, okay?

He watched in slow motion as Viktor lifted his finger to his mouth, lips wrapping around its tip, cheeks hollowing out the slightest bit as he sucked off the frosting.

Jayce's ears were buzzing as his heart picked up its rhythm again, pumping blood through his system.

Somewhere in the back of his brain Jayce had the decency to feel ashamed. That still didn't keep him from staring when the tip of Viktor's tongue darted out to chase the taste off his lips.

“Blueberry?”

Viktor looked up at him and Jayce's brain came back online.

“Huh?”

“The cake”, Viktor said, one corner of his mouth wandering up. “Is it blueberry?”

Jayce swallowed, still very captured by his best friend's lips.

“M-hm.” He tore his eyes away with quite some force. “Cupcakes, actually.”

His voice sounded way too thin. Jayce cleared his throat, his heart still beating up to his chin.

“Well, they are quite tasty”, Viktor said, and there was still that smirk. “Now the question is, how did they get onto your face?”

Jayce forced himself to look him in the eyes, those burning amber eyes.

“Accident”, he said, his voice more firm this time. “You’ll see what I mean.”

Viktor raised a brow.

+

Part1

Another snippet of the Oneshot. Hope you had fun reading!✨

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving Part 14

Warning: Cringe texting

Summary: ^

Notes: I love you guys but I’m lazy for formatting don’t hate me (it’s better on ao3)

Word count: 1,204

ao3 link

Several things were becoming abundantly clear to you.

One, you wanted to fuck Ghost.

Two, Ghost knew this.

Three, he thought he had it in the bag. And that, you took issue with. You were going to fuck him, but you wanted him to work for it; you wanted him to be down on his knees begging.

How exactly you were going to achieve this, you hadn’t quite figured out yet. All you knew for sure was that your ego needed a little more flattering and that Ghost’s needed to be taken down a peg.

You had some vague plans, and one of them had come into motion the second you got a text on your phone from the man himself, when you’d woken up for the second time on Sunday, having already had one rude awakening.

‘Unknown Number: New number. Know you missed texting me. ;-)’

Thank God he hadn’t seen the desperation in your texts on his last phone. This was a chance for a clean slate.

‘You: How’s the photo capabilities on your new phone?’

‘Ghost: Dirty bird. I’ll upgrade.’

‘You: For pictures of Soap and Roach you pervert.’

‘Ghost: Sure love.’

God the man was smug. Although, the mere idea of pictures from you had him buying a whole new phone? He wasn’t shy about his desire for you. Not to mention, it hadn’t even been half a day since he’d left your home, and he’d already sent you a text from his new phone? He was definitely down bad. And you were going to take advantage of that. But, for now, you were going to play it cool.

‘You: Anywaysss! How did the medical go?’

‘Ghost: Fit as a butchers dog.’

‘You: ? Are butcher's dogs especially healthy?’

‘Ghost: Ours was. :-)’

That was new.

‘You: You were a butcher?’

‘Ghost: Was a butcher's apprentice before I joined the military.’

You wondered if that was around the time he’d taken the picture for his drivers licence. Simon Riley the butcher. Well, he could keep the moniker; you imagine he did just as much butchering.

‘Ghost: I can show you how to properly handle meat. ;-)’

Of course. However, there was something cute about the fact that he’d sent you another text after you hadn’t replied for a mere minute. Did he even know what double texting was? You doubted that; he didn’t even seem to know how to use emojis. It was fun to go back to a pre-emoji time, like a throwback to your early teen years.

‘You: Yeah, I bet you’re a master at handling meat. Twat.’

‘Ghost: Happy to show you. ;-)’

‘You: In your dreams.’

‘Ghost: Yes. :-)’

You needed to stop. Either he was masterful at drawing you into playful banter, or you were easy. Regardless, you actually had things to do today, so you couldn’t spend all day flirting with Ghost over text.

‘You: I’ve got to get ready to go out. Talk to you later.’

‘Ghost: Think of me. ;-)’

Incorrigible.

Now, it was time for the second part of your first plan. Today, you were meeting the girls in town for a little window shopping and coffee, which gave you a convenient excuse to get dressed up, and you thought you knew who would appreciate a picture of your outfit. You spent far longer than usual picking out your clothes, trying to find the perfect mix of slutty enough to tease him but not slutty enough that your friends would notice. It was a hard bargain.

You figured it out pretty quickly. You could wear a mini skirt if you just stuck a jumper and a big jacket over it. You put your hair up in a bun that took a deceptively long amount of time to look like you’d just thrown it up, with you having to repeat the whole process three times until you finally got something you liked.

By the time you’d got around to doing your makeup, you were already over it, still irritated by your hair's inability to behave, but you stuck with it, giving yourself winged eyeliner, and several coats of mascara. There was no way you were going to faff trying to do your lips, so you just stuck with basic lip balm to complete your look.

With everything finished, you went to the long mirror in your room, having to give it a thorough clean before you could actually take any pictures. Ghost was worth it, that was unquestionable, but it didn’t make it any less of a faff. You were already out of breath, and you hadn’t even really done anything. How were you supposed to get across a slutty vibe with plausible deniability? Upskirt shot was out of the question. For now. Instead, you went with a classic pose, standing in front of the mirror, hand on your waist, resisting the urge to hold it up in a peace sign, your lips slightly pouted. Of course, you took a good dozen photos so you had a good range to choose from, hemming and hawing over which one was best before you finally decided.

From start to the finish, the whole process had taken about three hours, and the entire end result was a simple text that belied none of your efforts.

‘You: what do you think of my outfit? :) (image)’

There was no instant reply from him this time. You frowned at your phone, but it didn’t summon a text from him, so you just stuck it in your handbag and pretended you didn’t care, as though that would make the time until his next message shorter. Never worked before, but never stopped you from trying regardless.

In the time it took for you to put your coat and shoes on, and give Soap and Roach enough fuss that you didn’t feel guilty leaving them behind, you actually did get a response. You liked that about Ghost. He didn’t fuck about with long waiting times. Well, except for the weeks prior, but that didn’t count; his phone was blown up.

‘Ghost: Let me take you out instead. Anywhere you want.’

The offer was tempting. But you weren’t about to ditch your girls for Ghost. Even if it did take every fibre of your strength not to.

‘You: N o. I’m not ditching my mates for you.’

‘Ghost: Tease.’

‘You: Am not! Was just showing my outfit!’

‘Ghost: You know what you do to me.’

Shit, you were going to be late if you kept letting him distract you. There was just something about texting him that made you feel like a smitten teenager again.

‘You: Going out now! Byeeee’

‘Ghost: See you tonight :-)’

‘You: ???’

‘Ghost: I’m giving you a lift home. Just let me know when you need me.’

Oh, you liked that. You hadn’t even kissed him yet, and he was already your personal chauffeur?

‘You: Fine, will let you know.’

‘Ghost: That’s my girl ;-)’

With that, you locked your phone and stuffed it in the deepest recesses of your bag, knowing that you’d succumb to the temptation of texting him all day otherwise, and set out to catch the bus into town, already running late.

[redroomroaving]

Harper Geraldus x Harper Bor (Boraldus) having a mermaid moment.

Snippet below (carries on under the cut)

Bor can hear Arthus shouting behind him, almost drowned out by the sound of his own thumping footsteps. The deck lurches as Bor runs - and for a moment he’s not stepping but flying - as the ship beneath them rocks.

The storm is getting worse. The sudden swirl of dark clouds above robbing the light. 

His boots reconnect with the deck a moment later, and he keeps running. 

“Bor don’t be a reckless fool - Bor -”

But his brother’s voice doesn’t stop him; and he sees Arthus’ face for only a moment, his look of anger and horror as Bor grins at him and throws himself over the gunwale into the roiling sea.

He battles the waves to swim to them, the stranded figure struggling in the currents, keeping his grip on the axe in his hand no matter how much harder it makes every stroke. The shadowy form is circling in the water, drawing closer - the threat of the storm no match for their hunger with prey in sight.

“Just hold on,” he calls, swimming past the figure - focused on driving away the threat. 

He strikes at them, swinging the blade in the maw of a hissing, slithering thing half made of teeth. They keep coming, and he keeps striking; jaws clamp down upon the blade of his axe, and between the creature and the choppy waves the axe is pulled from his grip.

A poor weapon for a battle in turbulent water - as the creature snaps and jolts forward - Bor draws on his other, pulling on the fire in his blood, the frustration and fever of it - he won’t fail in this rescue.

He roars in its face, and clocks it right in the jaw with a sharp fist.

As it retreats, he tries to speak - turning in the water as best he can.

“Come on,” he manages, the words a struggle with heaving lungs and waves battering his sides, “we’ll get you back to the sh-”

Bor sees dark hair, big eyes - wide with alarm - and as his eyes catch their bare arms - their exposed collar - something brushing against his legs as he paddles in place - he realises this was no castaway thrown starboard.

No - this is a -

He barely has time to register the shimmering tail and the realisation of who - or what - he has saved when an errant wave overtakes him, and he’s pulled under the surface.

Like the hand of a colossus reaching up from the ocean floor to snatch him; the grip of the current around his body drags him down into the darkness. 

The light of the surface is pulling away in his stinging sight, and in his mind is a distant thought; if I survive this, Arthus is going to kill me.

Not the most momentous final thought, but it is what he thinks as his lungs start to burst, the air choked out of them. The darkness swirls as he sinks.

Suddenly, air. Pushed with force into his starved lungs. Lips on his own, breathing into him with a kiss.

Bor feels hands on his shoulders; for a moment the air rushing out of his nose in a flurry of bubbles until he realises what is happening - the blurring visage of dark hair around him as lips linger on his own a moment longer.

Those hands grip him, his saviour moving around him effortlessly, gliding through the currents and locking around his waist, and Bor knows he needs to hold this breath as long as he can as he feels himself pulled through the depths.

–

He chokes out the water in his lungs, taking in heaving, painful breaths as his mind catches up; he’s on dry land - sort of - he blinks away the burning salt water and realises he is in a pocket of air, the stony surface below him a cavern, not sand.

Looking down at him, a pair of big eyes, a mop of sodden dark hair that is dripping on his face; and as he sits up he feels fingers retract from his chest.

Bor takes him in at last. 

Snatched from death into the arms of one as beautiful as this; Bor thinks, and recognises the delirium in the words, but he is beautiful. Sweet, soft features - parted lips like a bow - and trailing back into the water - a tail of silver blue scales, tinged with gold.

He is tense, arms wired, eyes darting across Bor’s face with trepidation. 

“Don’t be scared,” Bor says, and the words come out roughly - his throat is still raw, “I won’t hurt you.”

But he looks confused.

No - he’s not afraid - he’s wary - prepared to be attacked.

“Y-you’re not…” he mumbles, his voice small and soft, unsure, “you’re not afraid of me?”

The stuff of Harper superstitions and hushed warnings, and not a bit the vicious creatures we were warned about, Arthus will never believe this. 

Bor smiles. How could he possibly fear him, with lungs still filled with the air from his own? 

“Well,” he says, “I hadn’t expected to find out merfolk exist today, but I hadn’t expected a lot of things today. Why would I be afraid of you?” 

“You saved my life,” he says, and holds out a hand.

The man looks at it, perplexed expression growing - brows drawn into a knotted frown.

Perhaps they don’t shake hands, Bor considers.

“I’m Bor,” he says, instead, resting his hand over his chest - feeling how his heartbeat is hammering under his fingertips.

His saviour understands, placing his fingers over his own chest in turn.

“Geraldus,” he says.

He gestures to him, repeating with a small, growing smile; a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “Bor.”

[antichilde]

margin of error: part 5

satoru gojo x fem reader, 2.1k words mdni

in which gojo figures it out

contents: teaching assistant!gojo, student!reader, no curses, college au, slight age difference (gojo is 20, you are a couple years older), he falls first, no smut (for now)

notes: Oh my god so much retconning. Gojo’s date has a name now. It was getting ridiculous referring to her as ‘his date’ all the time so my dumb ass named her Hana, conveniently forgetting that there’s a JJK character named Hana. Now she’s Manami (aka Geto’s secretary from JJK 0) because I may or may not have a weakness for her. (image citation)

part one | part two | part three | part four | read on ao3

The ache in Gojo’s chest has yet to go away. At first he doesn’t mind it, but as time passes the feeling begins to grate on his nerves like an itch he can’t quite scratch. It’s worse when you’re around so he tries to keep his distance outside of tutoring you. 

He also tries to distract himself. That’s how he ends up nursing a cider in the corner of a Halloween party he doesn’t really feel like attending. It’s too loud, and though the room is dark there’s some kind of disco ball throwing fragments of sickly orange and purple light onto the walls, meaning that Gojo is stuck wearing his glasses all night. 

He eyes Geto from across the room, watching him chat with a couple of kids they’d gone to high school with. No, he’s not quite desperate enough to go join that conversation, though with how things are going it’s only a matter of time. And what about you? What are you doing tonight? Did you stay in and get takeout like you’d planned? That sounds pretty appealing right about now, much more so than standing here avoiding eye contact with people he knows. 

Okay, he thinks, finishing off the last of his drink. Enough of this. 

He can’t keep thinking about you; it defeats the whole purpose of going out. Heading for the kitchen, he takes the opportunity to scan the room for familiar faces. There are quite a few— after all, Gojo spends a lot of his nights this way, though he usually feels much more enthusiastic about it than he does now. Eventually his eyes find their way to a bored looking girl loitering by the kitchen counter. The same girl, in fact, whom he’d been with when you’d inadvertently crashed his date. 

“Manami!” he calls, and she looks up.

Her face clouds with several emotions as he draws nearer: surprise, confusion, and finally irritation. Well, that was to be expected, given that their last encounter hadn’t ended well. 

“Gojo.” She doesn’t sound particularly pleased to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“Good question,” he says with a grimace. “I’ll let you know when I figure out an answer. What about you?”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her White Claw. “My campus was dead tonight, so I figured I’d try my luck here.”

 “Doesn’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t say this is my idea of a good time.”

“Not much of a partygoer?”

“Parties are fine. It’s making small talk with a guy who ghosted me that I’m not a fan of.”

Gojo winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I probably deserve that.”

She finishes off the last of her drink. “Not probably. Definitely. Though I’ll admit that it’s nice to have someone to talk to. I don’t know anyone else here apart from Suguru.”

Pausing, Manami crushes her can and tosses it into the recycling bin. Gojo’s brows knit together as he frowns. 

“So you came here by yourself?” he asks. “I know it’s pretty safe on campus, but don’t you think that’s kind of risky?”

“Aw, you’re worried. That’s nice.” Her voice is saccharin but she’s clearly unimpressed. Reaching around him, she plucks a bottle of water from the plastic wrapped set on the counter. The lid cracks softly as she twists it, the sound barely audible over the music filtering in from the other room. “No, I didn’t come here alone. My roommate was with me, though I think she’s already gone home with someone.” 

“And are you planning on doing the same?”

“Maybe, but don’t get your hopes up,” she says, waving the question off. “I haven’t thought that far ahead… though if you keep groveling I might consider it. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

 Don’t get your hopes up. Funny how he’s been hearing that so much lately. Even so, he’s pretty sure he knows where this interaction is going, and though he hadn’t planned on hooking up with anyone tonight it’s not like it was off the table altogether. Maybe this is what he needs.

pretty_blue_eyes: I’m heading out early

pretty_blue_eyes: You brought a key right?

suguroo: I have one. Everything ok?

pretty_blue_eyes: Yeah all good. I’m bringing someone home just a heads up

suguroo: Hmm

suguroo: Ok

pretty_blue_eyes: ??

suguroo: Dw about it. I’ll see you later

They end up back at his apartment tangled up on the couch. Manami’s body is draped over his own, his hands settled at her waist as he presses slow, lazy kisses along her jawline. He’s been saying all the right things, going through all the right motions, but it’s still not enough to keep his mind from wandering. Gojo knows she’s on to him well before she pulls back, planting a hand on either side of his shoulders and lifting herself just far enough to get a good look at him.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. He can’t make out much of her expression, not with the way her hair is falling around his face. It blocks most of the faint light filtering in through the windows.

“You tell me.”

Yeah, she definitely knows, but Gojo isn’t ready to drop his guard quite yet. 

“What do you mean?” he asks. Manami exhales in annoyance, sitting back on her heels. 

“I’m not an idiot, Gojo. I can tell you’re distracted. It’s that girl, isn’t it? The one from the restaurant?”

His mouth goes dry, and Manami’s expression falters when she realizes he isn’t going to reply. Without the curtain of her hair in the way Gojo has a front row seat to the hurt he’s caused; he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much to see the way her face falls. Honesty isn’t something that comes naturally to him, especially when there are potential consequences, but right now the idea of brushing aside her question makes him feel queasy. 

Still, it takes him a long moment to find his voice again. 

“Is it that obvious?”

“No,” she says, then pauses to reconsider. “Actually, yeah, now that I think about it.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Gojo takes a deep breath to try and regulate himself. Manami’s position is threatening to give him pins and needles but that’s the last thing on his mind right now. 

“And what exactly is it…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “…What is it that you think is obvious?”

“It’s obvious that you like her. Really like her.”

Gojo can feel his pulse racing. He’s not ready to talk about this, not yet, but at the same time his head is filled with so many things he wants to say. 

Manami fiddles with the ends of her long hair, twisting the strands together. “I think I knew then too. When she came up to the table something about you changed. It was like… like you were taking notes in your head, and seeing that made me realize that your mind is always somewhere else when we’re together. I know we’ve never been serious, or exclusive, or anything like that. But in the moment I guess it hit me pretty hard.”

She stops, her eyes meeting Gojo’s when he finally opens them. This time she’s the one who looks away first.

“I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m not usually the kind of person who tears down other women but I took out my anger on her and that was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

The silence that stretches between them is awkward. Manami’s body tenses, her weight shifting as she struggles not to fidget, and though Gojo wishes he could mollify her with an ‘it’s fine, don’t worry about it’, she’d been honest with him. The least he can do is meet her halfway. 

“I owe you an apology as well. For ghosting you, and for using you as a way to distract myself from…”

He stops, unsure how to finish that sentence, but she understands anyway. 

“Thank you,” she says. “I needed to hear that. And I should probably get off of you now.”

Sliding off his lap without waiting for a response, she settles on the opposite side of the couch and pulls out her phone, presumably to text her ride home. Gojo sits up, wincing as the feeling returns to his legs, and though a long silence stretches between them he’s grateful that some of the tension has dissipated from the air. 

“You want to talk about it,” she says at last. It’s an observation, not a question, but even so Gojo nods in confirmation.

“Yeah.” He rakes a hand through his hair, sighing. “Yeah, I think I do. Would that be too weird?”

Manami shrugs, reaching for her purse. “I was the one who brought it up, so if it’s weird then I guess I’m equally to blame.”

Pulling out a compact mirror, she dabs at her smudged lip gloss. Gojo can feel there’s some around his mouth too, tasting it when he bites his lip in thought. Watermelon flavored, if he had to hazard a guess. 

“I don’t know,” he says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s not like it’s that serious. I only met her back in August, though I don’t know if that even counts since it took her a whole month to learn my name.” 

Manami clears her throat, trying and failing to stifle a laugh. He ignores her, though if he were in her position he’s sure he’d find it funny too. 

 “It’s just that she makes me so nervous, but I keep chasing the feeling anyway. I have no idea why.”

“Gojo.” 

The sound of his name snaps him out of his own head and he turns to look at Manami. “Yeah?”

“Have you never had a crush before?”

“I have,” he says, sounding more defensive than he means to. “I had one back in freshman year.”

…of high school. 

Gojo chooses to leave that piece of information out. He also decides to withhold the fact that it had been on Geto. That’s a story for another time and place.

“But I guess it has been awhile,” he admits. “I don’t remember it being this stressful.”

She snaps the compact shut and drops it into her bag, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out her lip gloss. 

“I dunno,” she says, her voice muffled as she purses her lips to apply a new coat. “It sure sounds like a crush to me. Getting flustered, butterflies, et cetera— that’s all pretty standard.”

He buries his face in his hands, trying to will away his blushes. Manami slips the strap of her purse over one shoulder as she prepares to get up.

“It’s not a bad thing, you know.” Her voice is softer than it had been, nice in a way he knows he doesn’t deserve. “It’s stressful, yeah, but there’s nothing wrong with letting yourself feel things sometimes.”

Getting to her feet, she looks down at him, and their eyes meet as he lifts his head. 

“I should go,” she says. “I hope things work out for you, Gojo.”

“Thanks. And thank you for listening. You were right, I needed to talk about it.”

She turns away and he stands to walk her to the door. Gojo’s ready to end the conversation there, but as Manami reaches for the door handle he realizes there’s one more thing he needs to ask. “Hey, you won’t mention this to anyone, right?” He avoids her gaze, focusing instead on his umbrella. It’s still leaning against the doorframe, untouched since the night he’d walked you home. “Nobody else knows.”

“If by ‘this’ you mean your crush, then don’t worry. I won’t say anything.” One corner of her mouth twitches up as she tries not to smile. “Though I doubt it’ll make much of a difference. I have a feeling you might actually be the last person to figure it out.”

Laughing at his noise of indignation, Manami turns away, zipping up her coat as she makes a beeline for the car idling outside. A gust of chilly autumn wind ruffles Gojo’s hair and he shuts the door quickly before any more heat can escape the apartment. Pulling out his phone, he logs into his messaging app to unblock Manami, but stops when he sees his texts with Suguru are still open.

pretty_blue_eyes: I’m bringing someone home just a heads up

suguroo: Hmm

suguroo: Ok

pretty_blue_eyes: ??

suguroo: Dw about it. I’ll see you later

He turns off his phone and slips it back into his pocket, leaning against the door and shutting his eyes. Yeah, Manami was right, wasn’t she? Gojo is definitely the last to know.

[keanoble]

Hunter Sketch

ref

[bacchuschucklefuck]

no more fan-ta-sizing about it! everything's already changed~

[skeletood]

[monkayy]

[dizzybevvie]

You're the sunflower/I think your love would be too much

[skywerse]

NEW HAIRSTYLES!!!!! LET'S FUCKING GOOO

[princema-k]

Request for a Dimitri maybe? Love your art <3

thank u lots!!! he liked ur joke :)

[flowerakatsuka]

kurokara... save me..