#Or probably just recalled those times he found them balls deep in each other's hotness

[magnificent-winged-beast]

Jensens first reaction to Jared: He's Smokin' Hot.🤤

Jensen's first reaction to Misha: Wtf is he doing?? 🙄

https://youtu.be/HkpZILb-5dA?si=sFIlp2qNjaaFhfca

(Jensen Says Jared's Smokin' Hot)

Well. Yeah. The tall one is hot, no lie there.

But 🍑

It's intersting to think that the first impression you get for some one, in this case the gigantor, it's just his looks. Whereas with Misha, he had and initial confusion about what he saw. From there in a Rollercoaster of emotions he get to know the Misha, AND THEN REALIZED he was hot, like a bonus🏆.

He is not afraid to blush like a schoolgirl when Misha is mentioned connecting the Misha + fire = Because he's pretty hot 🥰

Like he did in this panel, right in front of his bestie's salad.

Of course we can always relay in the mature way the Big dude reacts.

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

An Embarrassing Secret

Word count: 2150

I feel like some of these are sort of repetitive, but maybe that's because I've had to reread them to proofread so many times? In any case, you all seem to enjoy them! I hope you like this one as well.

* * *

“Ah! Y/N! Just the person I wanted to see!”

Loki flopped down on the couch beside you, jerking you from your thoughts as the couch cushion bounced under his weight. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned your gaze from the television to the Asgardian beside you, only inches of space between your leg and his.

“Me? What do you need from me? Trying to prank your brother again?” you snickered.

“Not this time, no. I just thought I should come find you and let you know about something interesting I learned this morning,” he replied, an impish lilt to his voice.

“Is this something I would find interesting? Or just you? Because the way you said that, I feel like I probably won’t find it nearly as interesting.”

“Oh, I believe you’ll find it very interesting,” he assured, a smirk tugging at his lips. Something about the way his gaze was fixated on you was unsettling. You paused the TV and turned your full attention to the god.

“What is it, then?” you questioned hesitantly.

“I learned quite an interesting secret about you earlier today.” There went your heart again, skipping another beat.

“You… did?”

“Oh, yes.” His smirk grew wider.

Your mind was racing. What on earth could he be talking about? Did he figure out you had a crush on him? What if that was the secret?? Was he disgusted by it? Did he reciprocate??

“That is interesting,” you noted, trying to keep your voice even to prevent him from seeing your anxiousness. “And… what was that, exactly?”

“Well…” he began, pulling out his cell phone from his pocket, “… this morning I happened to be perusing the library, trying to select a new novel to read. While I was wandering between shelves, I happened to notice something of yours sitting out unattended.”

You thought hard, trying to recall what it was you had been doing in the library. Had you even gone to the library this morning? You couldn’t even remember what you had for breakfast. Then again, it was difficult to concentrate with those blue-green eyes gleaming in front of you…

“And what was that Loki?”

“Your laptop.” Loki was now typing something into his phone, holding it in a way that you couldn’t see the screen.

“My laptop?” You rarely brought your laptop to the library with you, as you were typically reading books and had no need for electronics. You wracked your brain trying to remember when the last time you had even brought it with you to the library, looking away from the trickster so you could think straight.

Then you remembered. You’d brought it with you last night, hoping to get some peace and quiet away from the others, who were causing quite a ruckus in the common area playing one of Peter’s video games. You could still hear them through your bedroom door, so you packed up your laptop and brought it to the library with you to continue writing.

Writing. Oh. Oh no. No no no.

Your heart dropped into your stomach the moment you realized where this was going. Still, he hadn’t mentioned anything specific about what he’d seen yet, so you made every effort to keep a straight face. You weren’t about to give away a bigger secret if he had only learned something minorly embarrassing.

“At first, I was uncertain to whom the device belonged, and as it was already left open on the table, I decided to see if I could determine the owner so I could return it to them,” he continued, “and I found the screen to be unlocked when I turned the machine back on.”

Yep. You knew exactly where this was going now.

“You act like you were trying to do a good deed or something, but you were obviously just snooping around my stuff, weren’t you?” you muttered, trying to throw him off with your annoyance.

“Shh - I wasn’t finished with my recounting of the story yet,” he scolded facetiously. He had finally finished tapping buttons on his phone and was now scrolling through something on the screen. “When the screen unlocked, I saw quite a fascinating narrative typed out on the screen. Truly a masterpiece, really.”

“Y-you read it?” you squeaked, hiding your face in your hands.

“Oh, I did more than that darling. I also scrolled through and reviewed the rest of your little webpage.”

Your face was burning red hot against your palms now. If you could have just melted into the couch and disappeared, you wouldn’t have hesitated to do so. You felt your heart pounding in your chest with nervousness and embarrassment at the whole situation.

“Shall I read some aloud for you?” he asked.

“Nooooo Loki,” you moaned, your voice muffled by your hands. You lifted your feet up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around your knees and hiding your face behind them, trying to become as small as possible.

“Ah, here is a good part: ‘The dark-haired god suddenly tackled you to the floor, pinning your arms down at your sides under his knees as he dug his long, slender fingers into your sides.’” You pulled your knees even closer to your chest. If the floor could swallow you whole now, that would be fantastic. “Darling, you’re not paying attention.” A poke to your side caused you to jolt one arm down away from your face to protect the sensitive skin. You stole a quick glance at the god, your eyes wide.

“D-don’t!” you exclaimed.

“Isn’t this what you want?” he asked, prodding your side a few more times, causing you to jerk away each time he made contact with your thin T-shirt. “Let’s see… ah! Another great line: ‘He drilled his thumb into the front of your lowermost ribs, digging his fingers into the sides of your ribcage simultaneously. You supposed you should have known that someone with his mischievous title would be good at tickling, but the way his fingertips sought out every single one of your weak spots was causing you to slowly slip into madness.’”

You started getting up off the couch to try to make a quick exit then, hoping to hide in your room for the rest of eternity. Loki caught on before you got very far, though, and grabbed hold of your wrist to prevent you from leaving.

“Let go!” you begged, refusing to look at him as you pulled your arm hopelessly to try to escape his grasp. He tugged you closer, quickly wrapping both arms around you and tackling you to the floor. A thrill ran through your chest as you found yourself staring up at the god of mischief, your wrists pinned to the floor at your sides in his hands.

“Seem familiar?” he asked, smirking. He leaned off to the side, looking at his phone screen beside you on the floor. “Now, where were we? Ah, yes, I remember.” Loki’s fingers connected with your sides, scribbling and kneading in the best worst way. You shook your head rapidly, still too embarrassed by the whole situation to allow him to hear you laugh. “Your narrative appears to be inaccurate – according to this, you should have ‘giggles bubbling from your mouth’ but I hear nothing.”

“Loki! S-stop teasing!” you pleaded, covering your face with your hands once again now that your wrists were freed from his grasp.

“I’m simply pointing out there are some inconsistencies in your writing, y/n.” He moved his fingers to your belly, scratching maddeningly gently at the bare skin where your shirt had ridden up from squirming. You couldn’t hold back the giggles anymore, but you did manage to keep one hand pressed over your mouth to muffle your voice as you brought your other arm down to protect your torso.

A small part of you, buried deep underneath the raging embarrassment you still felt, was loving every second of this playful side of Loki. Clearly you had fantasized about this before, as evidenced by your writing. You just hadn’t anticipated he would actually find your fics, much less read them and use them against you.

“Let’s continue, shall we?” he goaded, interrupting your thoughts. He picked up his phone in one hand while continuing to dig into your belly with the other to keep you squirming while he thumbed through more of your posts. “Here’s another excellent excerpt: ‘he moved to flutter his fingers against the delicate skin behind your knee, squeezing just above your kneecap simultaneously with the other hand, making you snort.’ I would very much like to hear that, I think.” He moved down to mimic his fictitious self in your writing, making you laugh out loud and kick your leg frantically. “Y/n, I’m not hearing any snorting. So many discrepancies; I have to wonder if you’ve ever been properly tickled in the same way as your fictional likeness.”

“Stohohop… stop making fuhuhun of my writing!” you demanded, although it wasn’t very intimidating laced with your laughter.

“Oh, I don’t jest, dear – I’m merely pointing out facts. Maybe this will make you snort.” He reached down and grabbed your ankle in one hand, lightly tracing the sole of your socked foot with one finger. You, indeed, did snort. “Aha! Maybe you should have requested assistance before posting these inaccuracies.”

“LEAVE MY FEET ALOHOHONE!” you shrieked, yanking your leg to escape his grasp. He responded by simply tightening his grip, dragging four fingers up and down your foot, making sure to note which spots made you jerk. He settled on scratching gently just below the ball of your foot, laughing himself as you rolled side to side trying desperately (and ineffectively) to evade his fingers.

“You realize, darling, you’ve essentially written a map to every ticklish spot on your body. I know exactly how to exploit your unfortunate weakness.” You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off by unexpectedly switching to digging his fingertips between your ribs. The suddenness of his movement made you squeal, batting weakly at his hands. “It’s adorable, really, how you are pretending to fight me, when we both know this is exactly what you want.”

“SHH! Shuhuhut up Loki!” you countered. He put a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“You wound me, darling,” he teased, smirking. “What did that one quote state? Ah, that’s right! Your ‘death spot’ as you’ve titled it?”

“Wait! Nohoho I’m sohohohorry!!” you panicked, planting your feet on the floor, and trying to scoot away from your assailant.

“I don’t think you are, actually.” His fingers were inching vexingly closer to your ‘death spot’ as he’d pointed out. He found humor in the fact that your laughter slowly began pitching up in octave the closer he got. “I’m pleased that you’ve written this down for me to find, y/n. I don’t believe I’d have found it otherwise – as I understand, it is not a conventional place to be so unbearably ticklish.”

“No! No no! Plehehease Loki!” you pleaded, albeit halfheartedly.

“Hmm… alright then,” he conceded, moving back down to tickle your right side, moving his other hand to scribble on the right side of your belly. It had exactly the effect he was hoping for, causing you to jolt and roll hard toward his hands. Quickly, he grabbed your left side and pushed you all the way over onto your stomach, pinning your hands down to the floor with his knees. “On second thought, I think I’m going to do it.”

“NoOAHAHAH!” you practically screamed in laughter as his fingers made contact with your back, just below your shoulder blades. Seemingly encouraged by your reaction, he applied more pressure, gently kneading between the backs of your ribs. Your nerves were on fire with ticklish electricity, and you tugged desperately to try to free your hands. It wasn’t long before your laughter became silent, your shoulders shaking as you laid there and just accepted your fate.

It seemed Loki had noticed the sudden silence, and he removed his torturous fingers from your back, releasing your hands so you could roll back over. You curled up on your side, knees close to your chest and arms wrapped around your torso rubbing the residual tingles off your sides. He hovered over you, leaning close to whisper in your ear.

“You know, darling – if you wanted me to tickle you, you simply had to ask. I find it quite adorable.”

“Oh my god, Loki…” you groaned, covering your face with your hands once again. A single finger scratched under your arm, making you pull your arms back down. “Stahahap!! Can’t you see I’m embarrassed??”

“Mm, I can see that. But was it worth it?” he asked teasingly, planting a kiss on your cheek. The flames ignited by his lips spread across your face, up to the tips of your ears.

You supposed that, just maybe, it was worth it.

Part 2: A Difficult Question

[mel-the-fangirl]

Toss A Coin to Your Witcher (Part Three)

Henry Cavill x Reader

Words: 4,365

(Part 1, Part 2)

Happy Holidays, Cavillry! I really truly hope that you all had some socially distanced fun! Here’s a little gift from me to everyone. I really hope everyone enjoys this last part to this miniseries as much as I enjoyed writing them!

Warning: I have never written anything even remotely close to smut and this story gets a teeny bit smutty so please be gentle with me.

Please like and reblog or leave some replies if you liked it!

Taglist: @novareign1, @libbymouse, @calwitch, @soldade, @happiness-in-the-dark, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @wolvesandhoundshowltogether, @zealoushoundrancheclipse, @seanh-boredom, @speakerforthedead0, @rn7rocks, @writingforhenry, @weallhaveadestiny, @suueeeeeee

-------------------------------------------------------------

“Because. We kissed."

Kissed.

Did you hear him right? Did he just say you kissed? You two kissed? And you didn't remember? 

Just the thought of it made you dissolve into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

A valiant effort on his part, truly. He really looked frustrated and confused that you didn't remember. What a brilliant actor.

"Phew!" you brushed the tears from the sides of your eyes and rubbed your nose with the back of your hand

"Right! As if I would ever forget kissing someone like you.” you gestured to him from head to toe, “Specimen.”

“Alright,” he crossed his muscular arms against his equally muscular chest, “I am one hundred and ten percent sure it was you and I’m not about to let you change my mind, madame.”

The challenge was clear in his voice and honestly? It was really hot, his whole stern and smug vibe actually made you forget that you were trying to defend your honour. 

How could he just look like that? All tall and handsome and muscular? It threw you off your game. He looked like he was God's favourite. 

"Aren’t we going to dinner?" you asked, now openly staring at his eyes

"Oh, god. Of course, you must be starving. I apologise." he dropped his proud stance and immediately grabbed your coat from the rack

Henry graciously helped you put it on, his arms lingered around you just a tad bit longer than needed but it was all very good.

Something must have caught his eye as he stepped away from you. He gave you a small smile and made a move to lean in. 

Oh, was this happening now?

Okay, sure. What the hell right? Since he claims to have already kissed you before maybe he needed to be reminded. 

You could do that. You knew how to kiss, you’ve kissed people before.

As he leaned in, the smell of his cologne invaded your senses. It was musky but also floral. Combined with his naturally clean, fresh scent, you could just picture yourself on a leisurely stroll with him in a field somewhere, the pristine air carrying the scent of earthy wood and spring flowers all around you. Henry would be gazing at you adoringly and he’d be in a soaked white shirt even though it was a sunny day.

Armed with that picture in your mind, nothing could go wrong. You were definitely feeling it.

You tilted your chin upwards, leaning in to meet him halfway, more than ready to feel those luscious lips on yours. You shut your eyes, just to make it more romantic.

His arms wrapped around you and you went in for the kill.

That’s when the worst possible thing happened. Well, perhaps not the worst thing but this was pretty fucking close.

Instead of the soft lips you were expecting, your lips met the soft material of his sweater.

Yes, that’s right. His sweater.

You, Y/N Y/LN, had just planted a big ol’ smooch on Henry Cavill’s sweater.

Your eyes snapped open and you wondered what you did so wrong in your past life to deserve this. How could you have misjudged the situation so wrongly?

The second Henry felt the tiny amount of pressure on his shoulder, he knew he fucked up. He had no idea why he didn’t just tell you that the collar of your coat was sticking up, why did he feel the need to straighten it himself? Now, what was he going to do? He didn’t want to embarrass you.

But, it was a little too late for that now, wasn’t it?

You both stepped away at the same time, seeming to look at anything else in the room but each other. It was nice of him to also feel embarrassed on your behalf but, you felt like everyone the world over was cringing out of their skin from secondhand embarrassment.

“So, dinner?” Henry offered you his strong arm, grinning at you like nothing happened

Was it possible for him to be even more perfect? As you looped your arm through his, you found out that it was.

---------------------------

The expansive cityscape was laid out before you from the secluded trellis covered terrace of the restaurant he chose. The view was beautiful, the lights of the city sprinkled across buildings, homes, and streets, the inky black and blue sky stretching far beyond.

Gazing out at it should have made you feel calm, at peace. But you were a bundle of nerves. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think that you’d be on a date with Henry Cavill and you wouldn’t have imagined that he would be accusing you of forgetting that you shared a kiss.

“Look,” you rested your arms on the table, looking at him as seriously as you could without getting lost in his eyes, “I swear, if we really did kiss, I would remember.”

Henry studied you quietly amidst the hustle and bustle of the restaurant beyond the French doors. It was endearing to him, how quickly you would sometimes switch from confident assertiveness to awkward fumbling.

For you, it was a test of endurance to look past the god-given good looks and focus on trying to anticipate what his next move was.

Turns out, it was one in your favour.

“You know what? I think you’re right.”

You almost did a spit take with your wine. Thank God you weren’t wearing anything white.

Okay, act cool. That should be easy, right? You were an actor after all. Just be cool. Relax your shoulders, unclench your jaw, stop sweating.

"I must've been mistaken. I truly apologise." 

He looked so sheepish, you actually reached over to put your hand on his. You tilted your head and gave him an understanding smile. A wave of relief washed over your body and to Henry, it showed. Your rigid posture finally loosened and you even managed to lace your fingers through his.

"I totally get it. I mean, with our jobs? We meet dozens of people everyday, it's not hard to be confused."

His heart leapt into his throat at the contact, it felt like his entire arm was covered in live wires but he would endure it just to savour your hand in his.

"Let's focus on our date, yeah?" 

"Yes, absolutely," you nodded enthusiastically, "Please. Tell me all about you."

"Oh, but I'd rather hear about you."

You were flattered, really. But just in case this was never going to happen again, you needed to get him talking and sponge up as much information as you could.

"And you will, but let’s hear about you first.”

He wanted to argue but you were already looking at him expectantly and despite your short time together, he was already struggling to say no to you.

So, he talked, and talked, and talked, much more than he’s ever dared to talk in his whole life. And you listened, absolutely captivated by his eloquence, his intelligence, his passion, and his wit. Not to mention his voice, deep and silky and hypnotising. Why people thought he lacked personality was a mystery to you.

“I do love theatre,” he explained with a mouthful pasta. It was adorable, no questions asked. “I wish I had that courage and longevity to just deliver every single night for months on end.”

“I actually started out in theatre.” you nodded your head as he widened his eyes at you questioningly. “Yup. I did a decent run of The Tempest at the Yard a year back.”

That’s when the ball dropped. Time seemed to stop for Henry, his drink hovered in the air just as he was about to raise it to his lips. It had finally made itself known, his smoking gun. He faltered only for a second before masking his triumphant smirk with his wine glass.

One harmless little question out of his mouth had you turning as red as the cherry tomatoes artfully scattered in the salad that was set before you.

“Ah, yes. Didn’t you play Miranda?”

You stopped stirring your iced tea and furrowed a brow at him.

“Yes. Yes, I was. Did you catch a show?”

“I did. I was at the opening night after party as well.” he enunciated this part slowly and clearly, hoping that your eyes would spark with recognition

But they didn’t.

“Isn’t that a shame. We could have done this earlier if we crossed paths that night.”

Henry pursed his lips and nodded, mildly disheartened but nonetheless, he pressed on.

“I do recall meeting you though.”

This again? 

You huffed and set your utensils on your plate. You laced your fingers together and looked him in his gorgeous ocean coloured eyes.

“Okay. If that is the night in question then I will admit that I… may have kissed someone but it wasn’t you.” 

“Well, well, well…” he raised an eyebrow at you and you instantly coloured

It wasn’t one of your finest moments and you figured you would never have to dig that memory out of the vault but here it was.

“I know how this sounds,” you shook your head disapprovingly at him, “But it’s not. Okay. On God, it wasn’t you.”

Henry nodded yet again, narrowing his eyes at you. The silent treatment and judgy look he had on forced you to keep talking, which probably wasn’t the best idea.

“It wasn’t you, Henry. Okay? It was just some random dude in a nice sweater and a signet ring or something.”

Alarm bells started clanging in your head as your eyes swept over your dinner date. Nice sweater, check. A signet ring resting on his pinky, check.

“It wasn’t you.” you repeated in more of a whisper, more to convince yourself than anything else

Throughout your debate, bits and pieces of that night started to come back to you. The most embarrassing part came to mind first, it would probably be your saving grace but, did you really want to tell Henry Cavill what you thought you did?

“Am I really that bad a kisser? That you felt the need to completely erase it from your memory?”

His tone was joking but you could see in his eyes that he was a little bit hurt. It was going to be a cold day in hell if you were going to be the person to make Henry Cavill doubt his skills in the kissing area.

“I kissed a male prostitute that night, okay!” you yelled out in exasperation

Thank God your table was situated on the terrace or else a restaurant full of people would have been in on your little secret. As your voice echoed off the walls, you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself. How much embarrassment were you going to endure?

“A male prostitute?” Henry repeated slowly, clearly having a difficult time processing this new information

“Yes.” you groaned, leaning back in your seat and covering your face with your hands

---One year before---

The curtains closed to thunderous applause, whistles and standing ovations. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to keep your breathing steady.

Did that really just happen?

You looked around at your castmates and wrangled them into a group hug.

“Did I really just do that?” you asked Marge upon meeting her backstage

“Yes, you did! Now go on and get changed. It’s after party time.”

With that, she sent you off with a smack on your ass.

You’d only known Marge for a few months since you arrived in London but you liked her already. It’s not like you had a choice though, really, she was the only one you knew.

“How about that one, that one over there?” Marge slurred, shoulders knocking into yours, less than discreetly pointing out some guy in the crowd of party goers

“Shh! Marge!” you giggled, more than a little tipsy yourself

Opening night was a smashing success, it was your first ever gig anywhere, really. You were so nervous the entire time, you thought you were doomed to fuck up and forget your lines or something but that moment never came.

“HEY! REVIEWS ARE OUT!” someone yelled in the crowd

“Here we go.” you murmured, knocking back your drink and tugging Marge along

The huge crowd gathered around your director, who was standing on a stool. It was a tight squeeze since a good chunk of the people who came were already hammered. Someone from behind shoved you forward and you rather inelegantly fell into the arms of the man next to you.

“Whoa there.” you could just make out the deep velvety voice above the murmurings of the crowd

“Oh, God, I am so sorry, I-” you trailed off when you finally laid eyes on your rescuer

Oh, wow.

You couldn’t decide which feature to focus on first. The captivating eyes that were a shade of blue that your alcohol-soaked brain couldn’t even comprehend, the strong chiseled jawline you needed a protractor to measure, or the perfect stray curls that fell onto his forehead?

Decisions, decisions.

“Are you alright? You almost fell.”

Goosebumps broke out on your arms as he helped you stand upright.

God, he was handsome, an observation you thought you had kept to yourself.

The tall man chuckled, still holding on to your forearms, “Thanks very much. I’m He-”

“And Y/N, my incomparable Miranda!” a booming voice interrupted him from the front of the room

“Fuck, that’s me.”

You broke from his grasp and fought your way through the crowds, leaving your hero looking out after you.

“Newcomer Y/N Y/L/N’s performance as Miranda is the glittering centrepiece to this refreshing, masterful take on an enduring classic,” the director read aloud, allowing the crowd to raise their glasses to you

You smiled at everyone, inadvertently meeting the eye of your tall handsome man.

When the crowd dispersed, you and Marge found yourselves back at the open bar, eyeing up every guy that passed by.

“Y/N, you’re on the fast track now. You killed tonight, now it’s time to pick your prize! How about that one? In the corner? Looks tall, shaggy hair…”

“Marge, that’s a ficus.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that other ficus has been looking over since we set up camp here.” 

You followed the tilt of her head to the same guy from earlier, the achingly handsome one. He raised his glass to you and you waved sloppily back. It was the alcohol, okay? Open bar, what were you gonna do?

Marge whistled low, sizing him up from head to toe, “Y/N, that’s a male prostitute if I’ve ever seen one and I have seen a lot of ones.”

The fry you had chomped down barely made it halfway down your throat before coming back up again, “What? No! Marge, he’s not.”

“But he is. Y/N, that man is tall, hung, and handsome. There is no man that tall, hung, and handsome that isn’t either an actor or a male prostitute.”

“Tall, hung, and handsome.” you mumbled, raking your eyes over him as discreetly as you could

In your inebriated state, you completely forgot to ask Marge why he couldn’t have been an actor. Why did her mind immediately head for the strip club? And why did yours follow suit?

“Imma go and bag myself a stripper, Marge. Okay?”

“Yes! Use protection!”

Before strutting off or more like stumbling off, you downed some more booze which probably was not as good of an idea than you thought. Not even halfway to him, you decided that you were teetering in your heels a little bit too much, so you took them off.

“Oh. Hey there.” the same silky smooth voice from earlier greeted you

“Ah, fuck. You’re tall.”

Looking up at him made you dizzy, like standing at the top of a giant skyscraper and looking down at the very edge.

He chuckled and you watched entranced as his face just lit up like Christmas. You decided then and there that you would like to kiss the Christmas, very much so indeed.

The liquid courage in you was really doing its job. You took his hand and dragged him away from the party. This was fine, wasn’t it? It’s not like he was complaining, he looked rather amused actually. Things like this probably happen to him a lot in his line of work.

“Well, now you have me, what are you going to do with me?” he asked teasingly once you two were tucked away in a dark corner

The combined effects of the excessive alcohol, the high of your first successful job, and the way this sinfully handsome man was looking at you made your next move the easiest thing in the world.

You balled the front of his sweater in your fist and tugged him down towards you. He was too tall.

Who on earth was this ballsy, clumsy, beautiful, talented stranger?

Henry didn’t get the chance to ask before his lips came crashing down and immediately, wildfire. 

A shockwave of frenzy ran through his body, he needed to feel you. He was all hands and lips and ragged breaths. His lips traveled down the smooth path of your throat, nipping and sucking as he went. You were putty in his hands.

“Jump.” he growled

You did as he asked and he latched his hands underneath your thighs and planted you against the wall. His lower half pressed into yours and you knew that Marge was right. Your hands raked through his hair and you reveled in the feel of him, strong, confident, in charge. His large hands made their way to your bottom and he squeezed gently.

A breathy moan escaped your lips and you knew you needed to have more of this man. Your fumbling hands made their way to his belt buckle but he set you down on your feet and held you steady.

“What..?” you whispered, suddenly disoriented

“I really should take you on a date first.” he panted

Sober, you definitely would have taken him up on his offer, male prostitute or not, but you were far from it and your head was still spinning so you thought you’d shut your eyes for a while and have him catch your unconscious form.

With you over his shoulder and your shoes in one hand, Henry made his way to his car and drove you safely home, relying on the satnav and your slurred directions.

He laid you gently in bed, brushing the hair away from your face. You snored in your drunken sleep and Henry smiled at the sound.

This was an encounter he was sure he would remember for a long time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Well, that was me,” Henry nodded his head with his bottom lip jutted out. “Exactly as you remembered it.”

Tall, hung, and handsome, huh? That wasn’t anything new to him. He’s been described using far more… graphic detail, if his time searching his name on Tumblr was anything to go by. But hearing it come from your mouth turned him several shades of red.

You, on the other hand, had no words. Again. But you figured that it was all Marge’s fault.

“So, I suppose I was right?” he confirmed, unable to contain the self-satisfied smirk on his face

“Uh, yeah,” you sighed, absolutely exhausted from your little trip down memory lane. “Yeah, I guess you were right.”

Slowly, you met each other’s eyes. A moment passed before you both dissolved into fits of laughter.

“Do I look like a male prostitute? Did I exude that kind of energy at the time?” Henry guffawed, shoulders shaking

“God, I don’t even know how I thought that! I was super drunk, okay?” you covered your face with your hands, mortified and extremely amused at yourself

The laughter died down and you were left gazing at each other fondly. Dessert had long since been over and the night went on, the candlelights on your table and scattered around the quiet terrace intensified the feeling that was passing between you.

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened and settled on your lips. Unlike all the other times today, you didn’t feel nervous, you didn’t feel like you were about to make a fool of yourself, you felt completely calm.

“Would it be alright with you if we picked up where we left off that night?”

Ever the gentleman. You smiled and made your way over to him.

“Hi.” you made yourself comfortable on his lap and you laced your arms around his neck

“Hello, there.” he whispered against your lips

It was probably not the best place to do this, in a restaurant where upwards of twenty people were just beyond the terrace doors but you were in your own little world.

You were endlessly thankful that you were sober for this, you would never forgive yourself otherwise.

When his lips finally met yours, you wondered how on earth you ever forgot such a feeling. It was gentle and soft, as most of these things start, his thumbs caressed that apple of your cheeks then he laid a chaste kiss on each.

You breathed long and hard as his hands splayed on your back, pushing you closer to him. His warm tongue traced the outline of your bottom lip before exploring your mouth, the taste of you mixed with the subtle taste of wine was exquisite and he wanted more. He drank you in, holding you flush against him.

“Wait.” you took his hand and led him to the far side of the terrace to an alcove enveloped in a curtain of lush vines

“When did you spot this?” Henry asked, breathless as you sat him down and straddled him once again

“On the way in.” you had the audacity to blush

“You had plans for me already?”

“A girl always comes prepared.”

Nothing would ever prepare you for the sight of his full length, once his trousers were lowered, it was over for you. Henry took control by shoving your underwear to the side and impaling you onto him. You inhaled sharply, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

“Are you okay?” he struggled to control himself, having you quivering on top of him was severely testing his restraint

“Yes. Please. Move.” all you could manage were monosyllabic answers

And move he did. It should be illegal to be this good.

The night air was cool but you were both slick with sweat, you two had lost your tops a while ago and Henry’s tongue swept across the valley of your breasts and marked his territory everywhere he could. His thrusts were enough to bruise you but you never wanted anything more than to feel him.

“Henry,” you gasped out as he continued to hit that spot that made you see stars

He could sense that you were close, you were tightening around him and gripping him like a vise. 

“Let go, lovely.” he whispered in your ear, committing the way your face twisted into a mask of pleasure and desperation to memory

You rode him furiously, the sound of your flesh colliding over and over again mingled with your hoarse moans, you were certain that someone would hear you but at that moment all you cared about was reaching your peak and with Henry Cavill at the helm?

His large hand clamped around your mouth as you came, you writhed and arched your body uncontrollably as his thrusts became more erratic. He pulled out of you and began to finish himself off, he did not expect for your hand to join his and he did not expect to come so quickly once it did.

“Jesus.” he panted, reaching over to smooth your hair out of your face

You shivered, suddenly very aware that you weren't wearing anything at all. Henry helped you dress quickly and wrapped his own coat around you, rubbing some heat into your arms.

When you refused to look him in the eye the entire ride back to your flat, that’s when Henry started getting nervous.

It’s not like he could ask you if you enjoyed it? I mean, he could but that would make him look like an amateur and he would really like to think that he was no amateur in that area. So instead, he took your hand as you stood in front of your door. 

“Y/N, I would love to do this again. The date, not the sex- I mean, I would like to have sex with you again but that's not what I'm after-Holy shit."

Oh, how the tables have turned. 

Henry rubbed at his face with a hand and sighed, "Do you think you'd like to see me again?" 

"Do you think you'd like to stay the night?" 

Both of you asked your questions at the same time and you both looked taken aback at them.

"What makes you think I don't want to see you again?" you wrapped your arms around his torso and looked up at him

"You were silent the whole car ride?"

He looked so unsure and a little afraid that you couldn't help but squeeze him. How could someone be both heartbreakingly handsome and adorable all at the same time? 

"I was just summoning up the courage to ask you to stay the night!"

"Oh thank God."

He swept you off your feet and threw your door open but, you didn’t end up in bed (you’d get there later), you ended up in the same place you started, on the couch, with him spectating and occasionally helping out as you played Witcher 3.

The next morning, you woke up to a text message and a forwarded article from Marge,

“HOW BEING A STAN GOT Y/N Y/L/N HER MAN”

YOU TWO ARE EVERYWHERE. CHECK IT OUT!  I TAKE CASH, CHEQUES, AND LAVISH GIFTS. YOU’RE WELCOME.

A muscular arm gently wrapped around your bare waist and a tender kiss was pressed onto your shoulder. You looked back at your handsome bedfellow and smiled.

You’d take a look at it later. Right now, you had better things to do.

[arrowflier]

oh my god your xmen au!! i've just recently thought about them having powers and ian should def be a healer ❤️

it's so good, i'd love for you to continue or like... do another mutant au (same setting but later? im not picky haha)

as always, your writing is truly amazing!

Yeeesss thank you thank you thank you. I've been wanting to so bad but I'm already neglecting all my WIPs so I needed this excuse.

For everyone else, original here. I'm also tagging this for A.U.gust (hosted by the amazing @gallavichthings) because their professions are inspired by prompts 7 and 19.

---

Ian was crouched over a client, hands flat on a wrinkled and twisted back, when Mickey fell through the door.

Ian stiffened, and not just because his gift was working on the man stretched out on the table in front of him. Mickey attempted to straighten himself on the coat rack by the door, but only succeeded in knocking it over, hands slick with blood.

Not his own, by the looks of it, and that was the only reason Ian kept working.

“What’s that racket?” his client croaked, trying to lift his head, but Ian pressed harder and pushed his gift deeper into the man’s muscles, forcing his neck to relax.

Ian winced as his own neck tensed further, but forced his head straight so he could watch as Mickey stumbled through the room before finally collapsing onto a chair. His head was down, but Ian could see faint streaks of red at his hairline, glistening in his dark hair when he ran a shaky hand through it. The spikes on his shoulders, exposed by a tear in his black shirt, lay flat and weak and similarly wet against his pale skin.

Ian swallowed hard, and removed his hands from the body in front of him.

“You’re done,” Ian rasped, waiting for the usual weariness and weakness to fade. He rubbed his eyes with a hand that felt more gnarled than it was, and grimaced. His eyelids felt like sandpaper.

“That’s it?” his client asked. They weren’t one of his usuals, just someone that heard about him from a friend. Ian tried to accept new clients where he could, especially those that found him by word of mouth—there wasn’t much else he could do in the way of advertising without a license or registration for his unorthodox mutation.

“That’s it,” Ian confirmed, and tapped the edge of the table impatiently, waiting for the man to get up and leave. He should be perfectly capable of that sort of movement for at least a few days, if he didn’t do anything too stupid with his newfound physical freedom.

“I heard you offer…other services,” the old man said slyly, twisting to look at Ian as he sat up and swung his legs toward the floor. “For a price, of course,” he added, smiling like he knew something.

Clearly, he did not.

“No anymore,” Ian answered shortly. “And never for patrons of your type.”

“Of my type?” the man repeated, voice now rising with suppressed anger. “And what does that mean, you mutant scum?”

“Means he don’t like wrinkly old man balls no more,” Mickey called out from across the room, and Ian had never been so grateful to hear his rough voice, despite what it was saying.

“It doesn’t,” he assured his client. “I mean, I don’t, but—”

“No need to explain, boy,” his client stated—probably ex-client now, and Ian should really feel worse about watching him leave.

Instead, he held his breath until the door slammed behind that narrow, weak back, and then immediately darted over to throw the bolt.

Room secured, Ian took a moment to breathe, in and out, as the last of the other man’s fatigue finally left him.

“You gonna stand there all night?” Mickey asked, somewhat quieter, behind him. “Or are you gonna come patch me up, doc?”

Ian turned to see Mickey struggling to rise from his seat, and was there in a few long strides to push him down again with a firm hand on his shoulder. Mickey hissed as Ian rubbed his spikes the wrong way, but let himself be secured.

Without thinking about it, Ian stroked his hand down, following those dangerous barbs along the length of Mickey’s bare arm. He wasn’t worried about them; he had seen firsthand the danger they could do, throughout the years, but never had Mickey harmed him.

Well, at least not without reason.

And he had clearly come to Ian for a different reason, this time. It had been a few weeks since they’d seen each other, and in that time Mickey had apparently found someone new to piss off, judging by the blood on his spikes. Someone that didn’t already know all his tricks.

“You have to stop doing this,” Ian said accusingly, gesturing at Mickey in general, and the other man snorted, then winced when it opened a cut on his face.

“Define ‘this’,” he challenged, and Ian shrugged.

“Picking fights, I guess,” he answered. “I know you have that new gig at the bar, security or whatever—”

“Bodyguard, doc, it’s a little more impressive—”

“But you don’t always have to jump straight to violence.”

“Why” Mickey asked, quirking a bleeding eyebrow. “I’m paid to be a badass, Gallagher, and you always fix me up just fine.”

Ian shook his head, eyes scanning for the worst of Mickey’s injuries. Thankfully, they were few—a slowly seeping gash at his hairline, the source of the blood about to drip into his blue eyes; an oddly bent finger; a patch of quills at the base of his neck that looked nearly torn out, like someone had gotten hold before Mickey flexed them.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Ian insisted absently, trailing his fingers from Mickey’s shoulder to his neck, to his face, heedless of the red trail they left on pale skin.

“Please,” Mickey scoffed, bending his head obediently when Ian pushed it back for better light. “The principle is that you like havin’ an excuse to get your hands on me.”

“Could get my hands on you anyway,” Ian mused, digging his fingers roughly into Mickey’s hair as if to prove a point.

Mickey hissed, but smirked through it.

“Oh yeah?” he questioned lightly. “Think I'm that easy, huh?”

“Know you’re that easy,” Ian murmured, leaning in closer than he strictly needed to to finish surveying the damage.

Mickey blinked, eyes only inches away from Ian’s own.

“Get those healin’ hands on me then,” he breathed, and Ian didn’t bother to point out that they already were.

Instead, he moved one hand over the scratch on Mickey’s scalp, one hand to the damaged quills on his neck, and his mouth to Mickey’s bottom lip.

And he reached inside himself for his power, and pushed.

They both gasped, deepening the sudden kiss almost by accident as Ian’s power coursed through them, between them. Mickey’s cuts started to heal even as they opened on Ian’s skin, quills bristling and growing strong again as tiny pinpricks of red showed on Ian’s own neck.

Let go of her, Ian heard in his mind, Mickey’s voice ordering some creep to release the girl he was trying to carry from the club.

I’m just gettin her home, man

Thin fingers reach for Mickey’s jacket, Ian’s jacket, their jacket. Grasp the hem, tug faintly, fall again on a limp arm.

I don’t fuckin’ think so

Pain in his fists, then pain on his back as someone else joins the fight, someone Ian can’t see. Sharp fingernails in his hair, on his neck, gripping, twisting.

A flare. Quills puffing from their sleek layer against warm skin, finding their target. The slippery wet feeling of blood on his shoulders, wetting them down again.

Okay, it’s okay now as frail hands grasp at him again to stand straight. Come on, it’s okay.

Ian’s hands fell from Mickey’s wounds as the last ones finally closed. He ignored the wetness in his eyes, the wetness on Mickey’s face, pretended they were blood and not tears.

“You did good,” he whispered against Mickey’s searching lips. “So good, Mickey.”

“Shut up, doc,” Mickey murmured back. “Give me something different to feel good about.”

So Ian did.

He kissed him again. Bit his lip, licked it clean. Ran a finger over the indentation, felt the bite on his own mouth as he soothed it. He scratched at Mickey’s back, didn’t recall when it was bared, felt hot lines down his own and couldn’t tell if they came from Mickey’s dirty hands or his own neatly trimmed nails.

It was always like this, when it happened. A feedback loop, not knowing where he stopped and Mickey began as they hurt and healed and hurt again. Hurt in good ways rather than bad, ways they had been hurting and helping each other since they were just children in a schoolyard chasing bullies. Ian lost himself in it, lost himself in Mickey’s mouth and eyes and skin and his own touches upon it, a constant blooming sensation deep in the reserves of his power.

He wondered what it felt like for Mickey, but then he didn’t have to. He never had to. He could feel that too: the tug of quills pushed the wrong way, the press of them into skin at both point and base, the prickling sensation when they settled, flared, settled again within sensitive skin and muscle.

But they never stabbed on purpose. They never hurt more than he could take; than they could take. And as he let Mickey stand, let him walk Ian back toward the bedroom on newly strengthened legs, Ian embraced all the feelings it invoked in the both of them.

Tomorrow, Mickey would most likely leave again, possibly even before breakfast. He would go back to his job, the one Ian didn’t like, and work and live and thrive until he needed Ian again.

It would feel worse, that separation, if Ian couldn’t feel the truth in every movement they made against each other in the night.

Mickey didn’t need Ian to fix him up; he never had. He had been doing fine on his own long before they met.

No, Mickey didn’t come to Ian because he liked to pick fights. He picked fights because he liked to come to Ian, and for now, that was enough.

[suckerforsmylex]

Ripe Peach Pt. 9

Peaches was exhausted and despite her best efforts, fell fast asleep in the passenger seat of the speeding car, buckled up and naked, save for The Joker’s blazer. He had drained every last drop of energy from her and a wave unshakable sleepiness hung thick and heavy, until slumber finally enveloped her completely. It was as if he had given her a strong sedative, despite him swerving all over the road and driving with his usual, unfettered zeal. Each jerky motion felt like being rocked as she slept. Her sleep was so deep, that she eventually would only recall pieces of the night they returned to the hideout.

She heard the pop of the car door being opened as J came around to coax her out of it. She heard the clacking of his expensive dress shoes, and felt the cool marble on the pads of her feet as he led her, like a foolish girl who had drank too much, up the staircase. It smelled of summer lilac, honeyed peaches and amber in the expansive master bedroom, where Nico’s candles lay burning.

Instinctively, Peaches inhaled deeply as her nose grazed the inside of The Joker’s neck, his skin cool and smelling of gun powder and bergamot and musk. It was the only thing that woke her for more than a couple of seconds, her eyes darting over him and then getting heavy again as her grinned down into her soft, sweet face. She lay, seemingly lifeless, on the plush comforter beneath her, the silky pillow easing her into a peaceful and profound obscurity. And then she woke up.

Peaches eyes fluttered open to find herself in a pitch-black room. The candles that were previously burning, had been extinguished and the entire room was draped in heavy, black-out curtains. She lay in the opulent bed and stretched her entire body, starting from her toes, all the way to her outstretched fingertips and then sat up and flipped on a small lamp on the end table beside her. Immerging out of the indulgent coverlet, she found herself completely nude and illuminated by the soft light.

Rich, purple tapestries covered almost every surface, accented by gold-leaf and a perfectly polished marble floor. She tried to ascertain the time, but there were no clocks in the room. Her purse and wallet had been placed neatly on an adjacent dresser, alongside a bottle of fancy water, but she couldn’t find her phone anywhere. Peaches cracked the bottle open, chugged it greedily and then tip-toed out of the room. She wasn’t inherently sure why she was being so cautious; it just felt like the right thing to do. Now, the marble floor was bitterly cold against her bare feet as she walked softly down a dimly lit, extensive corridor, in the silky bedsheet she had slept in, to the nearest bathroom.

Unsurprisingly, the Joker had spared no expense in this in room as well, and it was a luxurious, spa-like experience once she entered. The entire hideout was an extravagant, Russian design and the bathroom not unlike the bedroom, was one of its jewels. The heated floor was a welcomed respite and led into a spacious room, complete with an enormous soaking tub and solid, gold fixtures against the marble ivory and gold covered walls.

She decided to take a long, hot shower and as she stepped inside the large compartment, she realized that it was probably half the size of her own apartment. Encased in thick tempered glass, the shower was equipped with wide, double rain shower heads, warm, wrap-around teak benches and what looked like a sound system or control panel. Every luxury soap, cleanser or moisturizer she could dream of, lined the walls and she exited, feeling fresh and smelling expensive. She wrapped herself in a fluffy “J” monogramed towel and went back into the bedroom to rummage through the drawers for something to wear.

Nico had prepared a couple of outfits just for Peaches, anticipating her stay and ensuring enough appropriate attire to not disturb the daytime help unless absolutely necessary. Peaches put on an oversized, long-sleeve, black, knit sweater, a pair of black panties and some long, black knee-high socks. She sat down and combed out her damp hair and tried to decide if she should go looking for him.

As she curled up on a sumptuous, violet chaise lounge, she started to ruminate on him, allowing her mind to wander freely and without judgment for the way he made her feel. She thought about the way his slick, chartreuse hair fell into his eyes when he got excited, and about how the dark ink of his tattoos contrasted beautifully against his near translucent skin. She thought about his long fingers, like that of a pianist, and felt overcome with hot emotion.

It was simultaneously sexy and embarrassing to think of him. Every interaction with The Joker had been lust-filled and tumultuous. He was able to completely exert his dominance and ownership over her and she couldn’t explain why. He was a criminal of the worst kind, yet it only served to turn her on even more when she thought about the things, he might have done and the crimes he might have committed.

Her whole body flushed as she thought about the previous night and how he’d ravaged her inside and on top of the car, amidst the passing cars on the highway. She thought about all of the things he said and did to her. She thought about the cane. These were things that she’d allowed and she was humiliated to admit to herself that she had enjoyed them. Not only had she enjoyed them, but she now found herself craving these things. Up until recently, her body was not a positive in her life. It was a sign of her failures or at best, a hope or an opportunity for improvement. The Joker left no room for any of those perceptions. His thoughts, words and actions took over everything he laid his stony blue eyes on, including her.

All that thinking had left her skin warm to the touch and she swallowed thickly, feeling thirsty and a little hungry. She tread softly, out of the room and downstairs, looking for the kitchen to get a glass of water and something to nibble on. The loft was enormous, quiet and dusky and she made her way through the living room gingerly, not wanting to knock over anything or walk into any walls. She peeked her head to the left noticing a glowing light, coming from beyond a closed door.

Turning the knob, she found a narrow stairwell and started to descend it, too curious to stop herself as her feet moved quickly down the glass stairs. The lights shone a bright blue as she continued down the spiral staircase and she finally stopped at the bottom to take in the enormity of the room. It was wall-to-wall steel, glass and equipped with a full sink, white countertops, rolling chairs, an examination chair and an immaculate, sparkling white floor. It was a sterile and cold environment. The table tops were filled with Bunsen burners, heavy beakers, flasks, test tubes and cylinders in various states of use. Adjacent to the tops were trays with forceps, scoopulas and stirring rods.

This was the Joker’s personal laboratory. Peaches walked around, hesitantly snooping, and reading the labels on the concoctions lining the walls. Countless injectables, pills and gasses, filled the sleek, meticulously labeled cases, penned with the names of poisons and weapons he had developed and tested himself here in the lab. She ran her fingers along the glass as she read the names to herself and walked along leisurely:

Smylex #3. Smylex Bombs. Joker Toxin. Joker Venom. Joker Gas #1. Acid Cheer. ‘Happy Gas.’

“Hello, my little peach. I see you’re busy putting your fingers in places where they don’t belong again.”

His voice was a dusky, velvety surprise and she jumped, shrieking and knocking into a wall of glass tubes, toppling them over and breaking them all over the pristine ground. “Oh my God J, I’m so sorry, I….I…was just looking for the kitchen and I…” The Joker stepped forward aggressively.

“What did you just call me?”

His eyes were cold as she stood there with her mouth agape. “Uhh...I’m sorry, Daddy? I meant to say Daddy.” He continued to stand there, glaring and breathing heavily and she quickly dropped down to her hands and knees to try to scoop up the glass. In her haste, she sliced a deep gash into her middle finger with a thick, broken shard. “Tssss…Ouch!” The blood spattered onto the floor and she quickly gripped the gash with her other hand and looked up at him with a worried look.

“Come and sit here, so Daddy can patch you up.”

He stood there, next to a leather examination chair and patted the seat firmly. Peaches gulped and scooted into the chair, drinking him in as he turned to open a first aid kit and get out the necessary bandages and antiseptic. He was dressed in his usual kind of attire, a white button down, dress pants and those expensive shoes she adored, with the usual, slicked back hair, however his gold chains were tucked and his shirt was buttoned to the top. He wore a white lab coat, thick black glasses and purple latex gloves. He rapidly turned to face her and when he caught her looking at him, he grinned wide and gave her a devilish grin until she blushed profusely.

“Give me your hand, naughty girl.”

She extended her hand reluctantly, revealing that the fresh cut was deep and still producing droplets of deep, red blood. Without a word, The Joker inserted her finger into his mouth, suckling the blood off of it slowly. She instantly gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the feeling of the pink muscle against her injured digit. Encouraged by her reaction, he ran her entire hand under the faucet of the lab sink, never taking his eyes off his task, even as Peached watched him intently. He lathered her hand up with soap and carefully rinsed it off, drying it with a hand towel.

“This is going to sting, baby,” he said, with a wide grin that reached his bright eyes.

He took a cotton ball steeped in alcohol and pressed it into her raw wound, rubbing up and down, with an aggressive motion. “Owwww!” Peaches let out a helpless whimper as her nipples hardened beneath her sweater and then he was blowing cool air on her finger; his crimson lips pursed, as his eyes bore into hers. Lastly, he rubbed an ointment onto the cut and wrapped a bandage around it.

“What do you say peaches?” The Joker chided, as he smoothed the band-aid onto her finger with his thumb. “Thank you, Daddy.” Peaches blushed again as she thanked him and as she did, he gripped her chin in his palm and places a series of kissed on her open mouth. Suddenly, J slammed his fist on a button she hadn’t seen before and her embarrassment and arousal turned to sheer terror as metal clamps rose out of the chair at the ankles and wrists and bound her to it, fastening her in, helpless and confused.

“What are you doing?!” Her eyes darted around the room and she plead for him to respond as he paced towards the case with the toxins inside of it and removed a vile of Smylex #3 and a syringe. “Daddy, please, please, please! I’m sorry! I won’t break any more of your things again. Please, I’ll do anything you ask!” The very last statement made The Joker lift his head and throw it back on his shoulders as her began laughing maniacally. The sound of his cackle reverberated against the walls as her entire life flashed before her eyes.

He began drawing a quantity of the Smylex formula in the needle, stopping to show her his metal-toothed grin, as a green bead of toxin dribbled from its tip.

Was I just a toy for him to play with? Am I just an experiment? Oh my God he’s going to kill me!

Peaches gripped the arms of the chair as he wiped her inner arm down with alcohol, and then injected the needle rapidly, drawing the plunger out and then pushing it back down, until all the Smylex was discharged.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

[minchanslut]

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Bang Chan, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin x f!Reader

Word count: 3k

Includes sexual themes, such as: degrading, overstimulation, oral, praise kink, slight orgasm denial, dirty talk, idk dude there’s a lot

While hanging out with your friends on what was supposed to be a chill Saturday night, you ended up spouting some drunk criticism that they had not particularly taken too well. And now, a week later, you found yourself before three men whose egos had been bruised and were itching to teach you a lesson. You wanted to say that it was an honest mistake, that you were just talking crazy as a side effect from all the alcohol in your system at the time, but you couldn’t. Seeing as you had reinforced your statement a few days prior, this time while sober, there was no way they’d let you off the hook. It was also too late to play it off as a joke as they were determined to teach you a lesson. 

It all started after you had hurt their pride by accusing them of being “A bad fuck.”

This was of course a baseless accusation. You had never slept with any of the three guys in front of you. You just somehow believed that they wouldn’t exactly be the best in bed. Once those words had left your mouth they all began shouting and denying it in unison. This resulted in a brief debate in which they attempted to defend themselves, and you refusing to be convinced otherwise. It was then that Chan brought up what he described as the perfect solution, a simple and straightforward one at that. You were going to sleep with them. It was the only way that you could find out who was right, at least so he claimed. You drunkenly agreed, not thinking they’d actually go along with it, after all, they were just as intoxicated as you. Your assumption was proven wrong when you were boldly approached by Chan a few days later, asking if you were still on board. You hesitated and he noticed. He used this to his advantage to get you agitated. Knowing that you did not like to be toyed with and always needing to get the last laugh. You ended up agreeing, thinking that you refuse to lose to the likes of him, not realising that was exactly what he wanted. 

Fast forward to the following Saturday night and you were sitting on your bed, mouth agape as you tried to understand what was going on. You were aware that you had agreed to sleep with them, but you assumed that it’d be one at a time. You were only expecting to see Chan, so the presence of Minho and Changbin was not something you were prepared for. When you questioned them about it Minho spoke up, explaining that since you were so sure they’d all be very disappointing, it was only fair that they got to, quote unquote, team up. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up. You had to admit that you found the idea of all three of them taking you at the same time very arousing, but you weren’t ready to tell them that just yet. Instead you only scoffed, saying that it didn’t matter to you if you had to deal with all three of them. 

“It’ll probably just be three times as disappointing.” 

Your words definitely got their blood boiling. You smirked, leaning back on your elbows as you cocked your eyebrow before speaking. 

“So, which one of you actually has the balls to make the first move.”

Chan, bold as ever, was the first one to react. He approached you as he discarded his shirt, nestling himself between your thighs. One arm supporting his weight beside your head and the other trailing up your body, the silk fabric of your babydoll being the only thing keeping his warmth separated from yours. Soon after his hand was on your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. You captured his digit in your mouth, sucking harshly as you maintained eye contact. Chan hissed as you released this thumb from your lips with a loud pop. 

“You seem eager to have a cock in your mouth.” you can’t recall ever hearing Chan speak in such a seductive manner. The gentle touch of his hand on your face was replaced with a much rougher one, almost as if to force you to look at only him. “Who would you like to suck off first?” 

He asked before stepping away, giving you the opportunity to make a choice. You scanned over each of them and noticed that Changbin in particular seemed like he was struggling. He was looking at you with hungry eyes, his bulge prominent through his tight jeans. You needn’t say much for him to understand you, a quick glance was more than enough. You crawled over to the foot of the bed on all fours, stopping right before him as he met you halfway. He was surprisingly quiet, not speaking a word as he unbuckled his belt and tossed his jeans to the side. You started planting wet kisses on his length through the thin fabric, your hands playing with the band of his boxers. You also took the liberty of kissing up his navel before directing your attention back to his erection. Once you finally pulled his underwear down, his dick quickly sprung up, slapping against his lower abdomen. He finally spoke, seemingly have grown tired of your slow and steady approach. 

“Fuck, just do something already.” 

No further instructions were needed as you wrapped your lips around his cock, sucking harshly on the head and hollowing your cheeks as you went lower. You had little trouble deep throating him, his overall length not being anything you couldn’t handle. Still, you found it challenging to keep up a rhythmic pace. His cock was thick and veiny and it made your mouth feel incredibly full. Your fingers dug into the skin of his waist as tears formed along your eyes. You noticed that Minho had taken a seat on a chair beside the bed and was eyeing you with a smug look plastered on his face, occasionally palming himself through his pants. Chan, however, was nowhere to be seen. You tried not to let your mind wander too far and focussed on the task at hand. Changbin decided to take control, coiling his hand into your tresses and keeping you still. He removed his length from your mouth, placing the tip on your lower lip signaling you to stick out your tongue. He slapped his dick on the wet muscle before nearly ramming back into your mouth. He wasted no time building up speed, his hips snapping rapidly as his hands tangled into your hair further.

“You like having my cock in your mouth, hm?”

If it wasn’t for the overwhelming sensation you were currently feeling, you’d have rolled your eyes at him. He couldn’t possibly be expecting you to respond. Chan, on the other hand, did. He had seated himself behind you some time ago and was waiting for an opportunity to remind you of his presence. You suddenly felt a harsh stinging sensation on your rear, and heard Chan speak from behind you. 

“He asked you a question, babygirl.”

You could only whimper in response. You could still feel Chan’s hands roaming around your lower frame, muttering something along the lines of “such a pretty ass” before spanking you once more. One hand continued resting on your ass, kneading the skin as the other pushed the flimsy fabric of your dress up and began pulling your panties out of the way. He groaned at the sight of your glistening folds, pushing your legs apart and delving his tongue into your wet pussy. The sudden action made you jerk forward to which Chan retaliated by holding your hips in place. He licked and sucked on your heat loudly, repeatedly telling you how sweet you taste, the vibrations of his voice sending tingles up your spine. Now mostly focused on the pleasure you were receiving, you briefly forgot about Changbin. Whose own climax was drawing closer thanks to the help of your moans which vibrated around his dick. He pulled out, tugging on his dick repeatedly as he instructed you to open your mouth. You complied, but struggled to keep your mouth open as Chan was still devouring your pussy. Thankfully it didn’t take Changbin much longer before he finally came, strings of his hot cum landing on your tongue and face. He collected whatever he could on his thumb, transferring it onto your tongue. You looked up at him with teary eyes and saw him smile. 

“I didn’t take you for such a cumslut, but what’s the fun in knowing what to expect, right?” he said with a wink.  

You had a remark on the tip of your tongue, but it was quickly forgotten when Chan pushed two fingers inside of you, his plump lips wrapped around your clit. Instead of a sassy comment leaving your mouth like you had hoped, all that came out was a somewhat high pitched moan followed by several curse words. You felt your toes curl, your hands clutching onto the bed sheets as you felt your orgasm approaching. The other two eyed you from a distance, the quiet room only being filled with the sound of your wet cunt and your occasional moans. Minho caught your attention, at some point having fully undressed himself and was now stroking himself to the sight of you getting your pussy ate. Quite frankly, you’d be lying if you said the view alone wasn’t enough to make you cum. Minho must have caught on, leaning forward a bit he looked at you and asked. “Are you close, kitten? Can you cum for us?”

You wanted to hold off a bit longer, purely to be defiant. But you were betrayed by your own body, cumming almost as soon as he spoke. You heard Chan sigh, lapping up your juices then kissing up your spine. He gave you one last kiss on your shoulder before praising you with “Good girl.” 

You tiredly plopped down onto the mattress, only to be disturbed by Minho’s voice. 

“We’re not done yet, kitten. It’s my turn now.”

He signaled you to roll over onto your back. Once you did, he quickly grabbed both your legs, pulling you closer to him and only leaving your upper body resting on the mattress. He ran his index finger up and down your slit, making you squirm from the slight oversensitivity. Minho, who had been quiet for most of the time, seemed to have finally gotten his voice back. ��

“Do you think you can handle me, kitten?” 

Too prideful to even respond, you opted to simply avoid his gaze to which he replied with a simple “Okay.”

Compared to Changbin, Minho’s dick was longer but had less girth. Still, you found yourself admiring his stiff member. The few veins that ran down the length and the glistening reddened tip all making you want him even more. He pulled you closer, one arm hooked underneath your leg and the other gliding his cock up and down your folds. He tugged the flimsy fabric of your panties off and slid into you with ease, and chuckled. 

“How are you already so wet, are you that excited for me to fuck this tight pussy?”

His pace was slow, but he made sure to go as deep as he could. Your heels dug into the small of his back as you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. You felt the bed dip and saw Changbin kneeling beside you. He started kissing down your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples through your clothes. His mouth felt rough on your skin, as if he had every intention on marking you up as much as he could. All the while Minho began fucking into you faster. His grip on your waist felt unbelievably tight and would likely cause bruises to be seen the following day. Changbin kissed all the way up to your ear, stopping to whisper how much he’d like to fuck your mouth again. He sat up and rested each of his knees beside your head. He angled himself forward so that his dick could easily slip into your mouth as he supported himself on his elbows. He slowly started thrusting, gravity helping you take all of him so well. You felt Minho’s speed begin to slow down and figured he must be growing tired of the demanding position - it was actually because Changbin was spreading his ass in his face - but that didn’t stop him from stimulating your clit. You also opted to take matters into your own hands, somewhat literally, and reached up to cup Changbin’s balls. You toyed and fondled them as he continued to fuck himself with your mouth. Minho had changed position slightly, your legs now resting on his shoulders, allowing him to reach your sweet spot with much ease. Chan was keeping himself busy with his phone, pacing around the room recording the other two males having their way with you. Despite Minho having a head start, Changbin was the first to climax. He groaned loudly as he spilled his seed down your throat. You continued to suck, cleaning him off before he pulled away from the growing sensitivity. The moment he pulled away Minho dropped your legs and leaned forward, his chest pressed against yours as he began fucking you at an incredible pace. Your hands found themselves woven into his hair and your teeth sunken into his skin. The headboard banged against the wall and the room filled with moans. You were so close, the sensation of being filled to the brim felt like ecstasy. And then it was all gone, you suddenly felt empty. Looking up you saw that Minho had pulled out, and was now standing up straight and jerking himself off. You muttered a barely audible “What the fuck.” that still managed to catch his attention. He asked you what was wrong, seemingly unbothered by the almost hateful look you were giving him. Not long after, he came all over your stomach and chest, looking down at his work proudly. You took this as a chance to ask what the hell that was all about. 

“I was so close!” you exclaimed. 

“I know, but I only let good girls cum.”

He walked away unapologetically, satisfied with his revenge. You heard Chan chuckle. Now only in his boxers he made his way to the bed, resting himself against the pillows and the headboard.  

“That’s so cruel, Minho. Come here, babygirl. I’ll let you cum as many times as you’d like.”

He patted his lap and you weakly crawled over to him, settling yourself on top of his constrained erection. He ran his hands up your sides and finally ridded you of the dark red babydoll, immediately capturing one of your nipples between his lips. His hands started guiding your hips, your throbbing clit rubbing against his clothed member. As he sucked on one breast, his hand reached up to grope the other. If your eyes hadn’t been screwed shut from the pleasure, you’d have noticed that he never once took his eyes off you. He halted your movements and instructed you to turn around. 

“I want to see that pretty ass of yours bounce while I fuck you, and” he leaned forward, resting his chin on your shoulder his hand pointing at Changbin and Minho “show them how it’s really done.”

You lifted yourself up for a moment allowing him to remove his boxers before he guided you onto his dick. You immediately noticed that Chan had more girth than Minho, feeling him stretch you out as you slid down his cock. He allowed you to adjust, telling you that you could move whenever you were ready. You slowly began winding your hips, moving them in a circular motion and building up a rhythm. Chan had his hands resting on your hips and ass, kneading the flesh and even landing a few spanks when you’d least expect it. Every so often he would lean in and place a kiss on your shoulder, and give you some slight praise. “You’re taking me so well, good girl.” “That’s it, don’t stop.” “Fuck, you’re so tight, you feel so good.”

Despite your legs growing tired, his words encouraged you to go faster. His breathing became erratic and you could feel his dick twitching inside you, signaling that he was close. You pushed two fingers into your mouth, coating them with your saliva and reached down to rub your clit. All while Minho and Changbin watched you in awe. Chan pushed you forward so that you were once again on all fours. He rammed into you, the sudden roughness and speed almost making you scream. One of his hands held onto your waist while the other replaced your own that was rubbing your clit. His movements were a lot more faltering and his voice got deeper, though he could barely form complete sentences. He wasn’t saying any more than two or three words at a time, but you were still able to make them out. 

“So close.” “Gonna fill you up” “My tight pussy.”

It wasn’t long before you found yourself unraveling, face buried in the covers to muffle your moans as you came. That didn’t stop him though. Your legs started shaking, twitching as he took you passed your orgasm. His hand still rubbing your throbbing clit, his dick stretching you out. You felt as if your head was spinning and yet you could still hear him when he instructed you to cum again. As you reached your second orgasm, you felt him spill inside of you. His seed coating your insides, making you whimper as you felt it drip down your leg. 

You collapsed onto the bed before Chan could even completely pull out. Your breathing was ragged but with some effort you managed to finally speak words that essentially admitted your defeat. 

“That was amazing.”

The room was silent until Changbin decided to ask you a question. 

“Okay, but who was the best?”

[darkverrmin]

You I Need

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24258487/chapters/58461253

Hi! So I started a multiple-chapter fic where Geralt and Jaskier realize they have feelings for each other. This is part one, where Jaskier uses his wits and great acting skills to save the Witcher and himself from a certain death. Geralt is impressed. Enjoy!  

***

Stay here. Right here. Don’t move. Don’t do anything. Just let me know if someone’s coming”. Geralt was whispering orders to the bard, peering into the darkness of the duke’s room. They were standing in the dimly lit hallway outside of the nobleman’s chambers, the music and the chatter of the court party heard in the distance.

“You don’t have to instruct me like I’m an idiot”. Jaskier pouted at the Witcher, placing his hands on his hips. “I won’t remind you that it’s thanks to me that you got into this ball in the first place”.

Geralt glanced at the bard, slightly amused. “You just did”. 

Jaskier opened his mouth to voice another complaint, but Geralt beat him to it. “Okay, thank you for your help, but right now, if I don’t find the charm in this bastard’s room, all of this will be for nothing”.

Geralt used aard to break the door’s lock. It was guarded by a spell, weak enough for a Witcher to break it. Jaskier swallowed nervously, running a hand through his hair. This is too risky, he thought to himself. If they get caught sneaking around the duke’s chambers, there’s no doubt that they’ll be executed before morning comes. The duke had quite a reputation of a cruel and impatient man, with many of his subjects and acquaintances disappearing or dying in horrible ways.

And now there was a rumor going on about the duke being in possession of a charm that uses black magic. The rumor came to their ears from a local mage, who told them stories about the duke seducing young women, making them fall in love with him desperately and even killing themselves when the duke got bored of them and kicked them out. Geralt agreed with Jaskier that they had to find this charm and stop him from hurting more people.

Shaking off his thoughts, Jaskier glanced at the Witcher who had one hand on the doorknob. Geralt was staring at him, impatient. “You know what to do? Just call my name if you see someone coming. The guards here look serious, they’ll notice if the lock is broken. If anyone comes, we need to run”.

“Yeah, yeah” Jaskier tried to stop his voice from shaking. “Just be quick”. Geralt nodded silently, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind himself.

Jaskier remained in the hall for what seemed like forever to him. He listened carefully to any sounds of approaching footsteps, badly wishing for Geralt to hurry up. Minutes passed and nothing happened. Jaskier leaned against the wall, sighing and staring at his boots. A woman started singing from across the hall, where the party was still going on. Her voice reminded Jaskier a bit of his mother’s. He smiled to himself, remembering his mother’s sweet singing voice. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, when he realized that he couldn’t quite recall the features of her face. He briefly wondered what his mother would think of him right now, creeping into a nobleman’s room with a Witcher. She’d probably laugh and tell him he’s doing the right thing. That’s just the kind of person she was.

The sounds of footsteps and chatter snapped Jaskier out of his thoughts. He turned his head and spotted two guards, coming from around the corner of the long hallway, chatting idly between themselves.

Shit, he thought to himself. Jaskier took a step and quietly knocked on the bedroom’s door. “Geralt” he whispered. “Guards!”.

There was a rustling sound behind the door followed by a low grunting. After what seemed like a long second to the bard, the Witcher spoke. “I found it”.

“Great, great, now let’s get out of here”, Jaskier hissed, glancing back at the guards. They didn’t see him yet, talking between themselves. The hallway was pretty big so he and Geralt could manage to sneak away, if they act quickly. Jaskier moved closer to the door again, to hiss at the Witcher. The door opened right in his face, hitting him hard between the eyes and on the nose. Jaskier saw white. He stumbled back a couple of steps, grabbing at his face. He heard Geralt call his name and felt a big palm grabbing his upper arm and dragging him away.

“Hey!”

Oh shit, Jaskier thought to himself through the stabbing pain in his eyes and nose. He tasted blood on his lips. The guards caught them. Geralt couldn’t bring his swords with him to the court party, so they didn’t have any weapons with them. There was no use to try and fight the guards, the noise would attract the whole damned court to them. They will be dead by the morning. Jaskier needed to come up with something quick.

“Don’t move!” One of the guards called after them. “Turn around!”. Geralt stopped in his tracks. He was still holding Jaskier by the arm. Geralt slowly turned his head. Jaskier had an idea.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Jaskier turned around quickly, yanking his arm away from Geralt’s grip. He arched an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. “What?” he snapped at the guards, his voice sharp and impatient.

The guards were standing a few feet away, their spears pointed towards them. “Who are you?” The older one called.

Jaskier let out an unkind laugh, shaking his head. He drew his hands to the sides dramatically. “Who am I?” He exclaimed, looking and sounding incredulous. “You don’t know who I am?” He raised his voice, dropping his hands on his hips. “You better change your tone while talking to me, you bastard, or you’re going to regret it!”. Jaskier took a step forward, ignoring the incredulous stare that Geralt was giving him. “And don’t point your fucking spears at me! Idiots!”.

The guards looked startled, one of them slightly lowering his weapon. The older one spoke again. “I’m sorry, sir. But these are the duke’s chambers and we have no idea who you are-” He stumbled with his words, when Jaskier took another step further, giving the guard a murderous look.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit” Jaskier hissed through his teeth. “It’s not my problem if you two goat-fuckers live under a rock and don’t recognize my face”. He placed his hands on his hips again, puffing his chest proudly. “My father is one of the duke’s closest friends. That’s all you need to know. I came here to retrieve something of my father’s, the duke gave me the key to his room. The fucking lock exploded right in my face”. Jaskier was right that the guards probably didn’t know anything about magic, so it was hard for them to determine if he was telling the truth. Jaskier continued, raising his voice. “And now my fucking face hurts and I’m pissed off. So if you clowns bother me again, I’ll make sure to put both of your heads on a spike before sunrise”. With those words, he spat at them. “You disgust me. Now show a lord some respect”. The guards lowered their weapons, slightly bowing before Jaskier. Geralt stared at the scene, wide-eyed.

“Should we get you to a healer, m’lord? How did the lock explode?” The younger one asked Jaskier, raising his head. Jaskier groaned and rolled his eyes, glancing briefly at Geralt. He turned back to the guard, stomping his foot. “Do I look like a fucking mage to you?” he hissed at the guard.

“No, sir. Maybe we should call the duk-”

“Maybe I should order my people to rape your wives and make you watch the whole process before clawing your eyes out with hot fire iron!?” Jaskier roared, slamming his fist on the wall. He didn’t notice the painting in a glass frame hanging on the wall beside him. His fist shattered the glass, warm blood trickling down his forearm. “I THOUGHT I JUST TOLD YOU TO STOP BOTHERING ME” He screamed, furious. Jaskier dragged his injured palm over his face, smearing the blood, and groaned loudly.

He turned on his heels and started to scream at Geralt. “And YOU!”. Geralt would lie for the rest of his life that he didn’t jump at that. Jaskier was staring at him, blue eyes wide and furious, hands drawn to the side, his face smeared in blood. The guards behind him actually took a step back. “What the fuck am I paying you for, you motherfucker!? To stand there with your dick in your hand!? Do something before I tell my father to cut your stupid head off, you big oaf”.

Geralt lowered his head, nodding silently, playing along with Jaskier’s act. “I’m sorry, m’lord”.

“Sorry means shit to me” Jaskier spat. Geralt took a few steps forward, raising his arms apologetically to the guards. “We’re sorry for the trouble, sirs. I need to get my lord to a healer-”

“Trouble?” Jaskier echoed, giggling devilishly. “Say, I wonder why the duke’s lock exploded in my face. Maybe someone has messed with it?” Jaskier glared at the guards again. They both stared back at him, wide-eyed. Jaskier was secretly pleased with the blood on his face, it probably had quite the effect. The older guard spoke up with a shaky voice. “My lord, we were here all evening, no one could have-”

“So it was you,” Jaskier growled, raising an eyebrow.

The older guard was pleading now, pressing his palms together in front of his chest. “We didn’t have anything to do with it, my lord. And we’re so sorry for bothering y-”.

Jaskier cut him off, raising his hand. “Save it”. He took a step forward and gave the younger guard a curious look. The smile spreading itself on Jaskier’s lips was evil. “I don’t care what you have to say. Save it for the duke. I’ll have a chat with him tomorrow morning, tell him exactly what I saw”. He winked, patting the younger guard on the cheek, smearing the blood from his hand onto the guard’s face. The younger guard’s body stiffened and he stared at Jaskier with shaking lips.

Jaskier dropped his hand to the guard’s shoulder, squeezing it painfully. There was Jaskier’s blood on his uniform now, too. Jaskier leaned in closer to the guard’s face, hissing through his teeth. “I better not tell the duke that I was terribly bothered by two of his guards, right? Or you two clowns will be in big trouble”. Both of the guards nodded silently, the younger guard started to shake violently.

Jaskier took a step back and turned away. “Good,” He said in a light tone, “Now fuck off. Oaf! Come here!”. Geralt obeyed, stepping closer and taking Jaskier’s arm. “Take me outside,” Jaskier ordered, yawning. “I need some fresh air. And a fucking healer”.

With that they walked away from the guards, who were still staring at their feet. Geralt and Jaskier turned around the corner, breaking into a run.

*** They ran into the darkness of the forest.

Once they were far enough from the duke’s castle, shielded between the trees, they stopped to catch their breath. Geralt glanced at Jaskier who was leaning against a rock.

“What the fuck was that?” The Witcher asked, breathless, a hint of a smile on his lips. When Jaskier didn’t reply after a few seconds, Geralt continued. “That was fucking impressive”.

Jaskier didn’t reply. Instead, he bent over the rock, spilling out the contents of his stomach. His head spun and his face ached terribly. His legs felt numb and his stomach twisted with anxiety. Closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, he felt a warm weight on his back, rubbing soothingly. “We’re not far from the inn”, Geralt murmured, somewhat of a comfort.

Jaskier took another deep breath and slid down to his knees, gripping the side of his face. “Fuck” he gasped quietly.

“Let me see”. Geralt dropped down on his knees in front of him, gently lifting the bard’s head by the chin. The Witcher snapped his fingers, producing a red-bright flame from his fingertips. Jaskier blinked twice. That was impressive.

“Look at me”. Geralt said, his voice low and soft. Jaskier met the Witcher’s eyes and stared at him silently. Geralt leaned in closer to examine the bard’s face. The flickering flame illuminated the Witcher’s face in a beautiful way, Jaskier thought. It emphasized his sharp features and brought out the soft-gold color of his eyes. Jaskier hoped that Geralt didn’t notice his blush.

Geralt traced his fingers gently over the side of Jaskier’s face, making the bard flinch. “Sorry” Geralt mumbled, “It doesn’t look broken, though”. Geralt locked eye contact with the bard, gazing deep into his eyes. Jaskier felt himself getting lost in the Witcher’s stare. “Your pupils look the same size, so no brain damage” Geralt mumbled. “Probably a concussion”.

Geralt dropped his hand from the bard’s face and distinguished the flame. He ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt, startling Jaskier with the noise. Then Geralt pulled out a small blue bottle from one of his pockets and poured its contents onto the strip of cloth. He folded the cloth in half and brought it close to Jaskier’s face. He started cleaning the bard’s lips and nose, running the cloth gently over his skin. Jaskier closed his eyes and almost leaned into his touch.They stayed silent like that for a couple of minutes, Geralt cleaning the blood of Jaskier’s face. “Sorry” Geralt finally broke the silence. “For the door”.

“It’s okay” Jaskier mumbled back. “It was an accident”.

“Hmm”. Geralt answered, ever so eloquent. He paused cleaning Jaskier’s face, tilting his head to the side. “If it wasn’t for your little act back there, we’d probably be dead already”. Geralt paused again, staring at Jaskier with dark eyes. Then he suddenly gave Jaskier a warm smile, his fangs showing. “Thank you, m’lord” He said, voice low and sweet.

Jaskier chuckled, rolling his eyes fondly. He met Geralt’s stare again, feeling hot in his chest. “I got to admit, screaming at you like that was pretty fun”.

“Hmm” Geralt answered with a smile, looking down and ripping another strip of cloth from his shirt. He poured more of the blue liquid onto the new piece of cloth and took Jaskier’s injured arm by the wrist.

Jaskier smiled brightly, as much as his injured face allowed him to. “You were scared of me back there. I saw you jump”. Geralt placed Jaskier’s hand gently on his own thigh, his palm facing upwards. “Wasn’t scared,” he grunted. “It’s you. You did surprise me though”.

“Guess I’m a great actor”.

“Hmm”. Geralt leaned in and started pulling pieces of broken glass from Jaskier’s palm. Jaskier whimpered at the pain and Geralt shushed him with a “It’s okay, Jas. Almost done”.

Jas? Jaskier tried not to gape at the Witcher, who was attending to his injured hand, fully concentrated. This was a new nickname. He liked it.

Geralt finished taking out the pieces of broken glass and poured some of the blue liquid from the bottle directly onto Jaskier’s injury. Jaskier gasped in pain. “Ouuu- It stings!”.

“That’s the point”.

Geralt then retrieved the piece of cloth and slowly wrapped it around Jaskier’s palm. The liquid had now a pain-killing effect, cool and nice against the bard’s skin. Geralt was already finished with the cloth, but he was still holding Jaskier’s hand with both of his. He traced a thumb over the cloth and over Jaskier’s fingers, deep in thought. Jaskier stared at him, surprised and curious.

Geralt snapped out of his thoughts, letting go of Jaskier’s hand and standing up. “Can you walk?” His voice was sharp, but not unkind.

“I- I think so” Jaskier slowly stood up, before taking a step and stumbling forward. He found himself pressed against the Witcher’s chest, his nose buried in his collarbone. Geralt caught him before Jaskier hit the ground.

Pulling away, but still bracing himself on Geralt’s arm, Jaskier mumbled “Sorry, I’m a little dizzy”.

“Hmm”. Geralt nodded. “Okay. Get on my back”.

Jaskier stared at him. “What?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Well, you obviously can’t walk. Swinging you over my shoulder won’t do good to your head. And I’m not carrying you all the way to the inn like some damned bride. So get on my back”.

Jaskier blinked. The Witcher had a point. “Fine” he finally breathed out.

Geralt grunted and turned around. Jaskier climbed on his back, the Witcher slipping both hands under his lower thighs. Geralt’s hands felt strong and warm, even trough the fabric of Jaskier’s pants. Jaskier felt dizzy again and buried his face in Geralt’s hair, wrapping his arms loosely around the Witcher’s neck. Geralt’s hair smelled nice, like grass and oak. “Sorry” Jaskier mumbled against his hair “Hard to keep my head straight”.

“Right”. Jaskier could hear the smile in the Witcher’s voice. “Just don’t throw up on me, or I’m going to kill you”.

“No promises”.

“And don’t fall asleep. I need you awake, I don’t know how bad is your head injury”.

“Okay”.

Geralt started walking and they both fell silent. Jaskier felt his eyes getting heavy and he started to drift off. If he wasn’t on some kind of Witcher painkiller right now, he would probably find the whole situation hilarious, Geralt carrying him on his back. And maybe arousing, as their bodies were pressed together, but he tried really hard not to think about it.

“Jaskier?”

“Yes?” He mumbled sleepily.

“You’re falling asleep”. The Witcher’s voice held more concern than an accusation.

“Sorry, the stuff you poured on my wounds seems to be working”.

“Hmm. Still, I need you to stay awake”. Geralt paused, taking a deep breath. “Maybe you could sing something?”

Jaskier gaped at the Witcher’s neck. He smiled against his hair. “You want to hear me sing, Geralt of Rivia?”

“I want to know you won’t fall asleep and die against my back, that’s all”. Geralt hid his smile behind a curtain of white-silver hair, but Jaskier still noticed it. “So do whatever you want, so I’ll know you’re awake”.

Jaskier started humming a melody, something from his childhood. Geralt felt the bard’s chest vibrating against his back. It was a pleasant sensation. The bard’s voice was soothing, a candle in the darkness surrounding them.

They walked like that for another half an hour, before finally reaching the inn.

[chemartsblog]

For Love of Sassy Brunettes

Pairing: Steve/any sassy brunette, BrOTP Steve & Bucky

Summary: Bucky knows there’s one thing that get’s Steve’s engine going: Sassy Brunettes.

For the Love of Sassy Brunettes

If Bucky could pin it on a singular event, he’d say that Steve found his fondness for brunettes when a nine-year old Chloe Dayzula saved his pasty ass from the local bullies. The girl was fierce with brown curls, tanned skin, brown eyes and a mouth that’s not afraid to sass anyone out. Normally, Bucky could easily take out Donald Stump and his crew, but he wasn’t there that day and those bullies tried too advantage of it.

Fortunately, Chole was, and she did not like seeing those bullies beating down the sick kid with asthma. From the way Steve and the other kids tell it, that spitfire literally kicked Donald Stump’s ass to the ground. Then she got in-between the bully and Steve, put her hands on her hips and yelled, “My dog’s got bigger balls than you, Stump. Go play on the train tracks if you wanna show off your manliness.”

That right there…that image of a strong sassy brunette defending the weak was burned into Steve’s memories forever.

When Bucky got on the scene, Steve was a stuttering red mess as he tried to thank the girl. “I-I don’t know how I could thank you, Chloe.” Steve mumbled, shifting slightly on his feet.

Chloe had grinned and batted her eyelashes prettily. “You could get ice cream with me.”

Steve looked like he just found gold on a well-trodden road. He smiles eagerly, “Y-yeah of course—em sure yeah!”

Bucky has to bite his fist to stop himself from laughing, but at least Chloe found it endearing. She laughed and took his hand, taking him towards the ice cream shop. When Steve looked back, Bucky gave him two thumbs up and mouths a ‘good luck’.

Steve and Chloe ‘date’ for a month until she had to leave with her parents to go to another state. It’s the first time Bucky sees Steve cry over a girl.

                                                                                                                  _*_*_

Over the years, Bucky starts seeing a trend in Steve’s crushes. Almost all of them are brunettes and who usually show a hint of fire in them. As far as Bucky knew, they were all girls until Yin Pothong transferred to school. The fourteen-year-old boy was tall, lithe and very very handsome. Even Bucky couldn’t stop his double glances at the teen’s exotic features. The wavy tussle of dark brown hair rested neatly on his head, his eyes a deep dark black that makes all the girls (and boys) melt.

They said his parents were mixed, which is why he looks so damn good. Bucky can believe it, and Steve definitely believed it.

It was probably the third time Steve tripped over his legs when Yin passed by during gym, and Bucky’s had enough of his friend’s painful mooning. So he does the ‘good friend’ thing and calls Yin over to them during break. The tall amiable boy smiles brightly and waves at Bucky and Steve.

“Hi Bucky.” Then he turns his brown eyes to his red quivering friend. “Hi Steve.”

Steve is a statue. A very red gaping statue.

Bucky clears his throat, “Ahem, y’know Yin, Steve is also a big fan of the Brooklyn Robins. We got tickets to one of the games on Saturday, but I can’t make it…” he hints.

Yin grins. “I’d be happy to; if Steve’s okay with it?” He answers glancing to the still statuesque teen.

Bucky discretely grinds down on Steve’s foot, and somehow snaps him out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah yes—well—I mean—that is—!”

An exasperated Bucky delivers another quick jab to the stuttering teen’s side, and Steve manages to get himself together to string a coherent sentence.

“Yes. Yes. I definitely wouldn’t mind. Love to have you there, Yin.” Steve finishes lamely.

It doesn’t seem to discourage Yin, which is a good sign. The handsome brunette takes out a piece of paper and writes his address and home number on it.

“Here, call me if anything comes up. Otherwise we should meet up at my place before the game. Probably 12? My mom probably would want to make lunch for us.” He says.

Steve takes the piece of paper like it’s the most precious artifact in the world, and looks at Yin with wide eyes. “Y-yeah 12 is good.”

“Great! See you then, Steve.” And Yin takes off, heading towards another group of people.

Bucky grins, “Smooth dude.”

“Shut up, Buck. You were the same way with Mellissa.”

“That’s because I got lost in those massive tits.”

Steve slaps his friend’s arm playfully. “You’re an animal.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” Bucky grins.

They pause and Steve asks carefully, “So you’re okay if I’m…a little queer?”

Bucky grins and ruffles his friend’s hair. “Tits, pecs, dicks, vag’s. Doesn’t matter to me. You’re still the most awkward fucking dude I know.”

“Ha-ha.” Steve retorts, but there’s a relieved grin on his face.

                                                             _*_*_

One of the strangest things Bucky starts recalling during his imprisonment is all the faces of Steve’s crushes. For whatever reason, the drone of the names and faces going through his brain are enough to keep him relatively sane during the kooky doctor’s experiments.

If some of the guards give him weird looks every time he starts listing the names of Steve’s sassy brunette crushes, well…he’s too tired of Nazi shit to care.

In fact he’s just in the middle of talking about Yin when lo and behold Steve comes barging through the door. Well he thinks it’s Steve, but this Steve is waaay bigger than the Steve he remembers. Is this a hallucination?

“Who’s the sassy brunet who saved you on the playground when Donald came after you?” Bucky asks suspiciously. Big-Steve snorts and answers, “Chloe Dayzula. My first crush.”

Bucky looks him up and down. “Huh. What happened to you?”

“I joined the army.” Is the easy answer.

Whatever, Bucky’s too tired to complain or think too hard on it.

_*_*_

The moment Bucky recovered and laid eyes on Elizabeth ‘Peggy’ Carter, he knew. He didn’t even have to look at Steve standing beside him. Peggy is the whole package, and he’s going to gloat at their wedding.

Honestly, Bucky gets it. Peggy is hot, dangerous and has the look of someone who’s not afraid to kick your ass. He’d be jealous if it was anyone but Steve. As it was, he’s more than happy to play wingman to the dork. And Steve really needs it. The two idiots dance around each other like nobody’s business. It’s one of the worst cases of pining Bucky’s ever seen. The air around them tense and sizzling with unsaid promises. Every eye at the bar on the two, asking will they? Are they?

It’s kinda cute how Steve’s changed so much but still retained that awkward boyish attitude when it comes to women. Bucky would have laughed if he hadn’t seen this same dance for the past eighteen years. Still, it’s cute that Steve found a dangerously hot brunette in the army of all things.

Bucky puts down his drink and sits across from Steve, eyes gleaming and smirk sharp.

“So…Peggy.” He starts.

Steve sighs, “Bucky…”

“What?” he asks innocently. “I’m just stating the name of our very pretty, very brunette, and very spicy lady.”

“If she hears you say that she’ll fill you with lead and then turn you inside out before doing it again.” Steve retorts.

Bucky shivers. “Yup you’re right about that, but what if you said that?”

“She’d have to use the bigger guns.”

“Alright, fair enough.” Bucky acquiesces. “But seriously, it’s like I wasn’t even there. Did you forget that I was standing next to you?”

Steve chuckles. “I could never forget you, Bucky.”

“Better not. I snagged you that hot boyfriend, Yin.”

“No you didn’t.” Steve denies.

“Yes I did, Steve don’t even start. If I hadn’t dropped in with that whole, ‘oh no. I can’t go to the baseball game’ schtick, you’d have been mooning over him until he moved.”

The larger man sighs, “Yeah you’re probably right. He was something.”

“Like a Peggy something?” Bucky grins.

Steve pushes Bucky, and this time, it actually topples the man down.

“Oh shoot, I’m sorry Buck!” Steve cries as he helps his friend up. Bucky waves him away.

“Eh bound to happen someday.” He says. “But you owe me.”

“What do you want?”

“I call best man.” Bucky grins.

Steve laughs. “Win the war first; then we can talk about weddings.”

(Bucky’s last thought as he falls is: Damn I’ll miss my best friend’s wedding.)

                                                               _*_*_

Seventy years would change everything and nothing. Steve convinced him to stay after the whole Hydra debacle, and they were able to rescue his mind with Stark and Shuri’s help. The first thing he does after staggering out of the pod is hug Steve, holding onto his brother and best friend tightly.

“Sorry about Peggy.” He mutters.

Steve smiles sadly and pats his back, “It’s okay. She lived a good life.”

“I’m glad.”

Of course, Stark isn’t really one for sappy reunions and snaps at the two. “Uhhh…why don’t I see any loving for the two amazing geniuses that recovered your brain?” he sasses. “I’m just saying that we saved your brain. With our brains and a lot of cool science stuff.”

Bucky glares at the man and then turns to Steve. He leans close to his ear and whispers, “I swear to God Steve if you’ve got a boner for that guy…”

The silence and tension in his shoulders is all he needs to know. Bucky groans and drops his head against Steve’s shoulder.

“Uuuugggghhhh.” He intones dramatically.

Steve pats his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

“You owe me so much for this.”

                                                     _*_*_

At least Steve makes good on his promise and gives Bucky the honor of best man. Take that Sam!

Bucky raises his glass in a toast and grins. “Tony, of all the sassy brunettes that Steve has liked over the years, you would be the last one I thought Steve would marry.”

Tony sends him the middle finger, but Bucky just laughs it off and continues. “But you really stepped up and showed that you’re the best one for my brother. So best of luck to Steve and you. You’re probably the only two people who could marry each other without going insane.”

The dining hall is filled with laugher and applause as Bucky bows and takes a seat. After the wedding ceremony, Steve comes up and gives him a hug and a playful punch. Stark actually does the human thing and gives Bucky a proper hug too.

“Wow is the world ending?” Bucky jokes.

Tony rolls his eyes. “You weren’t funny seventy years ago and you aren’t funny now.”

“Rude. Steve are you going to let your husband talk to your brother-in-law like that?”

Said man rolls his eyes in response. “I’m not getting in-between your weird play-feuds. Just don’t have another Poptart incident.”

“Hey that was all Thor.” Tony complains.

Bucky nods vigorously, “Yeah we hardly had anything to do with it!”

“Clint, Bruce and Tasha think differently. Even Thor thinks differently.”

“Figures.” Bucky mutters. “They always blame the class clowns.”

“I’m more of a class genius.” Tony retorts.

Before the two can get into another bickering session, Steve hauls them towards the photographer. They get one good picture, and then Bucky somehow gets cake all over Tony and it’s just pandemonium from there. Steve is fine with it. It wouldn’t be a Stony wedding without an impromptu food fight.

                                                      _*_*_

Bucky should have known something like this would happen. Steve is the biggest sap he knew and Tony is no better. Especially when it comes in a cute seven-year-old package.

Steve saved this tiny child from a bombing in Queens. Unfortunately, poor Peter lost his aunt and uncle during the attack, leaving the child with no home to go to. Steve only had to give the authorities his best, Captain America look before they’re handing him the paperwork to take the child into his temporary custody once Peter’s been cleared by the doctor’s.

Bucky should have known it would be anything but temporary.

And it got worse when Tony found out the child’s potential genius. The two children were busy playing in the lab all day, and Steve just looked over them like a proud mother duck. Bucky would have torn his hair out if it wasn’t so damn cute.

Of course, Tony and Steve filed for adoption within a week of knowing Peter, and soon they’ll have a newly minted Peter Parker-Stark-Rogers.

Bucky sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, while Steve gives him the biggest puppy-dog eyes as he tucks Peter close.

“Steve.” Bucky says.

“Bucky.”

His friend looks at Steve then at the small child in Steve’s arms and honestly, Bucky’s a stupid sap too because he gets it.

“I call godfather.” Bucky replies.

“You’ll have to fight, Clint, Thor, and Bruce for that honor.” Steve answers.

“What about godmother?”

“You’ll have to fight Tasha and Pepper for it.”

“I’ll try my hand at godfather.”

“Good idea.”

Bucky shakes his head in amusement. “I always knew you had a weakness for sassy brunettes, but this wasn’t what I expected to come out of it.”

“Because I married Tony?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head and looks meaningfully at the small child who’s building some kind of spider robot with Legos.

Steve looks offended and gasps. “Peter is not sassy.”

“Yeah Uncle Buck, I’m not sassy. I’m an angel.” Peter…well sasses.

His old friend only has to give Steve a look and the sheepish man just shoots Bucky a wry grin.

“What can I say? I have a type.”

[hobiwonder]

A vase of flowers | (m)

Genre: Smut, enemies to lovers.

Pairing: Wealthy art student!taehyung x art student!reader

Warnings: slight angst. language. foreplay, descriptions of unprotected sex, dirty talk. it’s pretty tame otherwise.

Words: 10k

Summary: Art prodigy Taehyung comes to your art store out of desperation   when he doesn’t have enough paint to finish his latest piece. That wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t hate his elitist ass. 

a/n: this was just to get back in to writing. Its not edited and probably doesn't flow the best. But it did get me writing so here u go!! feedback is much appreciated :)

(he’s a work of art himself!!1!!!1!)

The hustle and bustle of students – females in particular – in the hall outside the lecture theatre was more infuriating than you had anticipated. What else did you expect though? The one day you don’t come late to the lecture is the day Kim Taehyung had decided to show up to class so the hallways outside the room being cramped like a chicken farm was inevitable. Even Minnie sitting beside you was craning her neck forward to catch a glimpse of the artistic prodigy – never mind his out of the ordinary good looks – before the class started. He was very much a superstar at your university but you will never understand why people were so obsessed with people who were not actually that great if you just looked past the good looks and the talent. Talent didn’t automatically make someone a good person and everyone’s obsession with the teal haired artist really pissed you off.

“Ugh, when will these bimbos shut up. He’s not a god!” Your words are muffled against your sweater clad forearm as you try and rest your head before class started. Having the closing shift the night before was one of the few things you despised when you had a class this early in the next morning. But you still showed up to every one of them. Unlike someone else.

“Well it doesn’t help that he looks like one.” Minnie is just shrugging while she continues to lean over her chair to watch the girls twirl their hair, throw back their heads in laughter whenever Kim Taehyung says something ‘funny’, nudging his shoulder with their own to show their frankness when really – none of these girls probably knew him past his bedroom since he rarely showed up to class. But news of him being a womanizer was common although slightly more hushed than that of the football team captain and co-caption Jeon Jungkook and Min Yoongi. Those boys were a headache for another day.

Kim Taehyung wasn’t anything special. In fact – he rarely showed up to class, was given special privileges you were sure of it because he was always in the top three students despite showing his face once in a blue moon, had every professor whipped for his pert ass because of how well connected he was in the industry as well as his family being one of the founding fathers of your current university.

Sure, someone like that is bound to be more popular than your regular high achiever or talented artist but the fact that he had everyone absolutely nuts about him was infuriating. On top of th-

“Are you done with your inner monologue? You’re blocking my way.” The unmistakably deep voice belongs to none other than the boy who you wanted to punch so very much. But that wouldn’t be wise given that most of the class was watching. His annoyingly attractive smirk was always there. Like it was just how his mouth was shaped but you knew that he always made the look a bit more condescending when speaking to you. Not that he would let anyone else know though. Bastard knew how to keep his persona up and you just wanted to smack him even more!

“Oh sorry. Forgot your name was on that seat since you barely come to class. I’ll remember for the next time when you make your monthly appearance.” Minnie is nudging you with her elbow no doubt to shut you up and it’s not the first time this exact scenario had taken place. But you wanted to keep yourself in check since no doubt the rest of your comrades would give Minnie a hard time since they didn’t have the balls to annoy you because of your obvious dislike of Kim Taehyung.

“Missed me, did you?” Your little victory smile is slipping off your face when his smirk deepens and you have to physically grab your desk and grit your teeth from snapping at him again while you move your feet out of the way so his smug ass can get to his stupid seat. Thankfully his seat was towards the end of the row so you didn’t have to catch glimpses of his pretentious face.

“You wish trust fund baby.” Alas, he isn’t affected. Not even a bit as he winks your way while walking to ‘his’ seat.

“Leave the pet names for people who actually get to be with me.” That’s it. Youj will break his stupid obnoxious snobby face!

“Calm down y/n. Everyone is watching.” She holding on to your arm while your eyeballs glare at Taehyung’s direction without even blinking.

“All the more satisfying when I kiss him with my fist! Minnie let me go you knob.” While you’re trying to wrestle your arm free; your professor has walked in looking pleasantly surprised with the semi-full lecture theatre. His gaze almost instantly goes directly to Taehyung because even he knows that most of these new faces that show up once in a while as well are because of Taehyung. They nod at each other before he starts the class and your mouth is agape that no one even questions the favouritism in this class. A bunch of ass kissers!

“Are you seeing this? His daddy probably plays golf with the prof. Jung Soo!”

“So what, y/n? You’re forgetting the rest of them also have parents who play golf with Taehyung’s dad. Most of these rats are rich as fuck. Not everyone comes from humbler beginnings.” Minnie is smiling hopefully as she watches you pout but her response only makes you snort.

“Are you forgetting you’re one of these ‘rats’?”

“Don’t remind me.” She falls back in her seat while hiding her face at the mention of her filthy rich parents being business partners with Kim Taehyung’s. When you’d first found out how well off your best friend was it only made you more enraged. If she could be a decent human being and not get any special treatment – despite being extremely talented as well – then why stupid Kim Taehyung? Minnie had a banging body and a face to match not that it should matter but you were so sick of the double standards. Your best friend also deserved special treatment dammit!

“Why? You shouldn’t be ashamed of being rich, hot AND a decent human being. I would so be one of those girls drooling after that canvas demon if I was gay.”

“Bitch I’m almost convinced you aregay but the way you’re ready to drop your panties for Min Yoongi tells me otherwise.” You only try to muffle your laughter while smacking Minnie’s knee, mumbling a ‘shut up’ before you both opt to pay attention to what your professor is going on about. Not before you catch Taehyung watching you like he was about to grade your upcoming assessment. You just send him another glare and try to ignore his overtly attractive physical presence. How could someone just sittingseem attractive, you will never get it. God really favoured some people more than others huh?

“Thanks for coming. Have a nice day!” The chime of the register as it slid closed was a sound you were starting to hate. The smile on your face was tired and probably was becoming very obviously fake. But that was just a typical day at the arts and crafts store – the only one in the near vicinity of the university hence the more than average traffic even close to 7pm at night on a weekday. Since the store was employed with almost entirely all students, it was able to stay open longer than the regular hours to allow the students with day classes to work during the night shifts. You were an exception though. Being on the lower end of the income spectrum among your peers, you needed as much work as you could get. Doing a bachelors in fine arts helped too as you used the tools that the store sold, on a regular basis. It definitely came in handy when assisting first years and some mature aged students who needed extra help in finding the right type of brushes or paints needed for their canvases.

“You good? You can take off for the rest of the night you know?” You know that Sungwoon is trying to sound helpful but you knew his real intentions. Scoffing in his direction you just grab your blue water bottle to take a good swig and wake you up.

“So you can steal my shift and work instead? Not today satan.”

“You’re literally so dramatic.” He says while heaving the biggest breath out like he was any better. “Maybe I genuinely just want you to rest and not have your face turn in to one of those creepy smiling masks from that one movie.” He’s clicking his fingers s if that’ll help him recall the name of the film any faster. Lucky for him, you knew what he was talking about.

“The Purge?”

“That’s it! See, you knew exactly what I was referring to. You need sleep.” Sungwoon is nodding while looking at you like you stank or something. Ugh screw boys.

“If I did, you’re the first person I’ll get rid off.” You deadpan and you can almost pinpoint when he starts to realise you may not be joking. But you were of course. He was a little shit but all in good fun.

“Well,” he’s picking up his bag and making sure to clock out from the app the store used to make sure everyone was getting to work on time, “I’ll be going then. Have fun scaring off rest of the customers and drowning the revenue for today.”

His squealing laughter is the last thing you hear before he’s scuttling out when you try and smack him across his bicep. Sungwoon was probably one of the few boys you could stand and were actually close enough with for them to joke around like that with you because apart from Minnie, there weren’t many people who really liked talking to you. That much was clear when you’d moved near the campus from your town when you’d been accepted to the rather elite Art University.

Coming from a small town – you’d think you were more friendly but that wasn’t the case with you. You’d grown up with a strict father that made sure to discipline you if you ever messed up your tasks at his workshop. Ever since you could remember how to read and write, you had been helping him out with the business as he could not. His own father – your grandfather – had been even more strict on him according to your mother so there was no changing him. You had never really minded in doing the book-keeping for him or making sure the small town client paid on time after having their cars tended to. That’s until you had started your Junior year in high school and had the choice of choosing between subjects now that you were to apply for universities after. Or that’s what the plan was for most children. You had taken Art as a spare since it was the easiest class at the time and you really didn’t need any complicated subjects to study for because you were having to work at the workshop with your dad even more as you were getting older.

Being an only child also meant that all the expectations your parents had fell upon you to see them through. It also meant that the only time you interacted with your fellow classmates was during class. Not even after because as soon as school would finish – you’d have to rush to the workshop to help your dad sign out cars from the shop to the owners on time. He specifically made appointments towards the end of your school day just so you could be there and help him make sure the checks he was given by the more wealthier customers – only a few – were not for an amount less than he’d quoted them with. Believe it or not, it had happened and every time it did you had to stop yourself from smacking the bastards who had tried to take advantage of your father just because he couldn’t read. Ant to make the matter even more ridiculous, most of the people who tried to scam your father had been those who could actually afford his services. Not Joe who had a farm and sold eggs locally as his main source of living, not Jihoon’s father who was a delivery man and needed his vehicle to keep working and provide for him family and certainly not the old lady who had her truck serviced by your father so she could get to her appointments to the doctor, on time despite her only income being what her son sent from the city where he worked as a chef and had his own family to feed.

The world was filled with unkind people and most of them were those who could afford most things but still tried to take the less fortunate’s share too. Your father was a calm man but all his frustrations were usually taken out on you whenever you would rightfully insult those who tried to seek discounts despite knowing that your father wouldn’t be able to afford the tools he needed to do a fair job on the vehicles if he didn’t get paid the amount he had set on the pricelist which was dismal compared the mechanics you have seen in the city.

But of course, he wouldn’t say much to those low-lives because at least he was getting business. And that was better than nothing. When you’d finally let him know at the end of your senior year that you’d applied to an arts university rather than the business school he had hoped you would go to – things had not gone well, to say the least. Of course all his anger would be directed at you that day from the shop as well as finding out that his only child was not interested in business at all. You had done it as much as you could for the sake of helping out and honestly? Just not knowing what was out there for you to study and do with your life. But If there was anything that working with your father had taught you was that if you didn’t take a chance sooner than later – you’d end up having to rely on someone else for the rest of your life. Just like your father relied on you for so long because he just never got around to even finish school because of doing exactly what you had been – helping out your granddad.

The day you had left for university had been hard and was the second time you had cried. Your father hadn’t even looked at you but your mother had clutched on to you until you had to physically pull her away when your taxi had arrived. Even after making sure there was someone to help out your father at the shop, there was still apprehension present in your gut. It had all felt wrong somehow even as you had been unpacking your stuff in your flat the next night. Thankfully, all the hesitancy, all the fights and the sleepless nights had been worth it when you’d gone in to your first class the next day. You’d been excited to meet new people, make friends, make memories you didn’t even knew you had the option to make. But what do you know, getting accepted in to an elite university meant there were more of the same people you had fought off and defended your father from.

Meeting Minnie was almost a miracle. She had been the only one to come up to you being desperate to find a buddy to get lost around the campus with and not like the rest who had taken one look at your jeans and plaid shirt and moved on to find others with the same clothing or designer bags. People were so materialistic in the city it was almost unbelievable. In your town you had been able to find others who were more so on your social and economic status and feel comfortable. But in the city you were outnumbered. Maybe that’s why people like Kim Taehyung got on your nerves even more than usual. You’d noticed his elitist behaviour when invitations had been sent to attend the commencing party at his house in the first week you’d been attending the university and instantly you knew you would never be able to stand him or people like him. Only a certain number and certain looking people – girls to be exact – had been invited to the famous Kim estate. You’d only found out when Minnie had asked what you were going to wear to the party. The look on your face had probably given away your lie that you weren’t actually invited when you’d made up some excuse of not wanting to go. Minnie being the good sport and the only decent person you had known, had made some excuse about not ‘feeling it’ and stayed in that night and watched all of Harry Potter series with you. With you watching them for the first time.

“Bugger.” Your thoughts are interrupted when you almost trip over the bucket of sale items Sungwoon forgot to move. Taking a deep breath, you pick up the relatively heavy bucket that contained tubes of oil paint in colours such as black, white and red that were bought the most and move it to the stock room so it can be displayed again the next morning. Your shift was going to end in another 2 hours so now most of the work included moving display stock to the back room and print out labels for the discounts that were going up tomorrow morning. This is probably why you didn’t completely hate night shifts because other than a few customers – it mostly involved you working silently and most times even able to use headphones without having to worry about missing anyone at the till waiting for you.

“Hello? You guys still open?” You’d just finished putting away the tubes and the paint brushes when the front door had opened – as signalled by the bell atop it – meaning there was a customer.

“Coming!” Quickly getting down from the ladder where you’d been putting the paint in their designated boxes, you rush outside. “Hi, how can I- Oh. It’s just you.”

Taehyung is scoffing towards you when you roll your eyes seeing as it’s not a real customer. It was true. The last few time she’d come in – he’d browsed for all of 5 minutes before making a weird face and leaving. Probably going to buy his pretentious paints from his pretentious shop. It was as if he only came to the store to make fun of all the products most students living on campus – or not filthy rich like him – used.

“Isn’t that against some customer service code? To have this sort of attitude?” His bright hair has somehow made the place look a little less mundane, you hate to admit it. His very clear skin and the various rings he wore didn’t help either in making you feel less than. You hated how much he actually affected your mood.

“For actual customers? Probably yeah.” This time, it’s him who’s rolling his eyes while his hands comes up to have a feel of a synthetic brush that was hanging in front of him.

“What makes you think I’m not a customer?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“I actually am here to buy something this time.” His response only makes you smirk as you hum.

“So you do admit that you only come here to flaunt your wealth. That’s a good sign Taehyung.” But for some reason, the teasing that would usually make you feel better doesn’t feel as satisfying when Taehyung is just looking around like he’s in a pickle rather than through an insult back at you.

“Look, I need some paint and maybe a few natural hair brushes. I would go to-”

“Your overpriced and pretentious art store?”

“-my regular spot but I need to finish this painting tonight.” He completely ignores you when you cut in with a smirk and almost sounds like he is pleading. Wait. He was. The new found info perks you up more than you’d anticipated and it’s almost exciting knowing Kim Taehyung’s fate lies in yhour hands. Okay, maybe an exaggeration but still exviting. So you do what anyhone else in your position would – milk out the entire debacle.

“Well, well, well.” Leaning on your elbows on the counter, you can’t help but feel sort of like an evil villain finally with the perfect opportunity to strike. Except, you weren’t the villain really. You were the good guy!

“For fuck’s sake.” Taehyung mumbles lowly under his breath but you could hear him loud and clear. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

You wanted to be cruel, you really did. You wanted to tell him you had ran out of the supplies but you were too tired and honestly, he was probably going to buya  bunch of stuff and if you made a sale above 50,000 won in one transaction then you would make some sweet commission. So whatever.

“Luckily for you, I’m a decent human being so,” stepping out from behind the register, you just deadpan at him, “right this way.”

He seems surprised and so are you. At yourself. Because you’re not sure why you’re being this nice to him when he’s made fun of you on more than one occasion.

“I’m slightly scared you’re leading me somewhere quieter so you can murder me.” His voice is slightly meek and you’re thankful that he can’t see your face because you’re trying to hold in ugly laughter that Kim Taehyung is actually scared of you when alone despite acting like hot shit when surrounded by a herd of girls.

“A good, educated guess. But not today.”

“…. So there is a chance for that to happen another day?” Spinning around to face him abruptly – damn okay maybe you should major in acting because Taehyung flinches but tries to play it off by shrugging his broad shoulders.

“Maybe.” You’re slightly too close to him because you have to crane your neck up to meet his gaze. Just when his own slips down to your lips, you quickly gesture towards the aisle you’ve just stopped in front of. “Here you’ll find what you need. Brushes and paints.”

“Thanks.” You just shrug before turning around to go back to the cash register. That plan doesn’t go too well because a warm grip on your wrist stops you in your tracks and almost on instinct, you’re ripping out your hand from the grasp as soon as you feel it.

“Woah, sorry! I didn’t mean to-” You just cut him off to move past the subject before he even brings it up.

“What do you want now?” Taehyung pauses for a few seconds as if not ready to let your jumpy reaction go just yet but thankfully decides to drop it.

“Look, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate and rally needed the sup-”

“Taehyung, I’m not interested in hearing how you would never set foot in a place where peasants like us – or normal people really – shop so just get to it.”

He however is just biting on the inside of his cheeks as if to burry a smile before it breaks through. “You’re not very patient are you?”

“I haven’t been put in many situations that really require it, so.” You just shrug in his direction but the flash that goes through his eyes that resembled molten dark chocolate sends an involuntary shiver down your spine and thankfully the air con is on and you could blame your odd reaction on to that if he noticed. Why was he looking at you like that?

“That’s too bad. Sometimes the rewards for waiting are quite fulfilling at the end.” And somehow, you’re not sure if he just means that in general or…

His heavy gaze travelling down the length of your body only makes you more eager to move on before you lose all the good comebacks you had at the tip of your tongue just because his looks were making you weak in the knees.

“Whatever.” You turn to leave once again and again, Taehyung reaches out to grab your wrist but pulls himself back before he can. Thankfully, you have already seen him this time so you just cross your hands under your chest, tapping your foot while you wait for him to spit it out.

“Just help me okay? I’m not familiar with these… brands.”

“That’s because none of them are Gucci.” He just rolls his eyes but follows you down the asile anyway.

“You do know that Gucci doesn’t make paint right? If they did it would be amazing though. Maybe I should write to them about this. Hm.” He’s started talking to himself but you start pointing out the different types you had available because you don’t have time to have causal chats with him like you two were friends. Despite his weird behaviour before.

“If you’re looking for oil paints, these ones are smoother and the colour payoff is better than others and if you want buildable colours then go for… this.” You’re about to say they are cheaper than the first brand you had pointed out but then realise that he most likely doesn’t care about the price. Though he doesn’t seem to be looking at you at the moment but only paying attention to the paints just like he paid attention the content in the few lectures you’d seen him at.

“Do they not say the ingredient at the back? That’s peculiar.”

“What’s peculiar is you using the word ‘peculiar’.” You mumble while still watching him inspect the different tubes as if he was going to drink them or something.

“May I get the list of ingredients for these ones here? And the lightfastness rating please.”

“It’s literally at the bottom of the tube.” His eyebrows furrow as he looks back at the tube and looks at the bottom again.

“Oh. Isn’t there like a booklet or something that comes with this so I can check?”

You just continue to stare at him.

“Taehyung, this is a campus arts store and our most expensive paint is 55,000 won. So no, we don’t have fancy brands that make ‘booklets’ for every paint. But if you must know,” You sigh, rolling your eyes at how high maintenance he was with his paints, “I can have a look at the delivery boxed for the ingredients. I know that all of these paints of this brand have a lightfastness rating of II at least.”

“Excellent! And yes that would be great, y/n. I just prefer my oils to be made from pure Linseed is all.” He has a bright smile on his face while he shrugs like that’s just the way it is. But of course, you want to punch him once more for making your job harder than it needs to. He was a college student. What did he need such high quality paints for? Ugh.

So you grit your teeth and walk back to the storage room and fish for the delivery boxes of the brand that Taehyung was interested in. “Stupid rich boy. Used to always getting what he wants.” The mumbling continues on your part while you try to locate the box as quickly as possible so he can go away and stop making your shift harder than it needs to be at almost 8:30 PM at night.

“Aha!” You have finally spotted the boxes that were stacked way at the bottom. Quickly reading through the large ingredient list, you confirm that the paints are unfortunately not made purely from Linseed oil.

“I have some bad news.” When you walk back out to where Taehyung is testing a few brushes, you can see his face drop because you’re sure he can guess what you’re about to say. “The binder used for these paints is a mixture of Linseed and walnut oil as well as a few others.” You shrug but Taehyung seems to be losing it.

“God fucking damnit. I’m screwed.” He’s started to pace around the aisle, looking like his life has just ended and his dog has died. Did he have a dog? You loved dogs.

“Why are you freaking out so badly?” He looks at you like you’re the one who’s acting weird.

“Because I have an auction in three weeks and it usually takes me that long to even finish a painting.” Of course he had an auction. It was common knowledge around campus that he sold his paintings for quite a sum at a few well known auctions. But you couldn’t remember another one happening anytime soon though.

“What auction? There isn’t one scheduled for at least 3 months.” Taehyung is hesitating when you question him. He looks like he would rather not mention it but in the end, sighs and tells you anyway.

“It’s more of an exhibition. Just for my paintings.”

“Oh wow.” Your eyes have widened at the mention of his solo exhibition. He was rich enough to afford to hold one so it shouldn’t be that surprising. But it still was a big deal even for a privileged student like him because you need to have enough credibility and a loyal customer base to attract enough people to an exhibition that is solely filled with your own artwork and not a collection of artists. “ I didn’t know you had your own exhibitions.”

He scratches the back of his head as he shrugs nonchalantly but you see the nerves showing through with how his hands shake slightly. “It’s the first one.”

“Oh.”

“Whatever I’ll just look somewhere else.”

“I use a medium of stand oil, linseed and turpentine, a little wax and add a small amount of cobalt drier to control drying time for my paintings.” You have blurted out your little trick before you could stop yourself. In your defence, he just looked so pitiful. You had to help. He also seems just as surprised at you suggestion and even more surprised when you walk around gathering the supplies you’ve just mentioned.

“Oh… thanks for the tip. I never really thought about that since I never really needed to…”

He silently follows you to the register where you place all the items and scan them so he can pay. Whatever. Maybe you helping him will bring some good karma and give your career a break too and your painting will finally be displayed at the Montero Art Gallery. It was a local gallery but a lot of successful artists you admire had started out from there and you were hoping that your work could be good enough one day to be displayed there too.

“How did you go through all your paints by the way? Should you have a ton of them because you’re supposedly always painting.”

“Supposedly?” Taehyung is smirking while his eyebrows are raised in mock disbelief at your suspicion. “Well, I used up most of them when I had sex on a canvas with Jihyo. Made for a good painting though. Maybe I’ll display that one too.” He’s grinning from ear to ear and you’ve just halted while he pays on the eftpos machine. Okay you definitely regret telling him your trick when he put himself in this position by being a horndog.

“You’re literally so gross.”

“Hey, abstract art is also a thing you know?” He looks serious enough that if he hadn’t said ‘abstract art’ you would think you had actually offended him. You obviously hadn’t when he just winks in your direction while he gathers his items and leaves.

“Asshole.”

It’s been a week since you first saw The Kim Taehyung pop by the little arts store that had previously been too beneath him to even consider buying his supplies there. Though ever since you’d told him about your little trick, he’d been bugging you non-stop on writing tips and you’re almost sure he’s doing it to… well, bug you. It’s as if he isn’t even aware that he’s an artistic prodigy because you’ve seen his paintings yourself and they were hyped up for a reason. Even a bitter person like you could admit that.

So when you get a special request by your boss one Friday evening, you’re surprised to say the least when you figure why you’re even asked to deliver supplies in the first place.

“Are you serious?” Your boss being the sweet old lady she is, is just pushing up her glasses as she nods vigorously at you.

“Of course dear! Must be some poor student who really is in need of help. He sounded quite desperate on the phone.” The old woman was way too nice for her own good. And while you appreciated her big heart, if she says yes to one person that the supplies can be delivered to his house then then word will get around and sooner than later, you’ll have a flood of students ordering their supplies over the phone and wanting them to be delivered. If that was going to be the case then you’ll have to quit since you can’t deliver because you don’t have a car. You relied on public transport damnit!

“Or he’s just lazy Ma.” Yes. Everyone called her ma upon her request. Short for Marion. Not that you minded because she was sweet as honey and really did remind you of your own mother. And she treated you like one too. Especially right now when she just scowls at you and asks you to stop being lazy yourself and deliver the package she’s prepared.

“Ugh fine.” You whine until the very end and she’s just wishing you a safe journey. Thankfully she’d leant you her car for today – it was her idea after all – so you wouldn’t need to spend an hour trying to find the place. It seemed to be quite close to the shop surprisingly. And unsurprisingly, the apartment is in a trendy but expensive neighbourhood. Most kids who went to your school probably lived in these buildings. The one you were supposed to go at though was on the top floor and you’re already angry that this buttcrack insisted on delivery and manipulated poor Marion into having his stuff delivered to his door rather than being at the front reception so the exchange could be faster.

When you reach the top floor, you pull out the receipt to hand it to him first thing as he opens the door and don’t have to spend more time than necessary in this place that you felt so out-of-place in. You’ve already rung the doorbell while you read the receipt and that’s mistake number one that night. It dawns on you who this person must be when you’re reading the names of the exact items Taehyung had bought from you last week. You could turn around and go really. Only if you hadn’t already rang the doorbell and he hadn’t opened it right as you’re setting the heavy bag down.

“Well hello there.” His deep voice is an anchor itself as you stop your movements right then and look up at his smirking face that looking down at you. Ugh. Like always.

“Hi.” Slowly, you straighten yourself up, the bag still near your feet as you step away, trying not to gawk at his perfectly toned skin that is showing way too much from between his unbuttoned shirt. “Here’s your stuff. Goodbye.”

“Oh good. You can set it inside in the kitchen.” You’re gritting your teeth in order to stop yourself from slapping his cheery voice right out of his throat with a punch. Okay maybe that’ll be too much. Maybe. You won’t know until you try though.

“Come on.” He’s gesturing inside his expensive apartment that shinier and cleaner than any place you’ve ever seen. He probably has it professionally cleaned.

“I’m not coming inside you weirdo.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not my type.” Somehow that makes you even more mad and you hate that it does. Fuck him honestly. You knew you weren’t his ‘type’. His type included skinny, rich and bad artists. Just so he could get off on a power-control dynamic you’re guessing.

You just pick up the heavy package without breaking eye contact and step inside, walking straight to the kitchen and placing the materials on the counter. The inside décor is surprising when you take in the various canvases strewn about in the living room on different easels. But what really takes your breath away is the familiar artwork that you’d looked at time and time again when you’d been lacking inspiration. When you’d been in a rut and everything had been too much and all you would want to do is quit. But looking at the work that evoked emotions from a place inside that even you hadn’t still made sense of it was the only thing that had kept you going many times throughout the years you’d been at university.

But how was Taehyung interested in such underrated art? You’d never heard him mention Vincent Van Gogh before. And yet most of his paintings covered the walls of his apartment.

“You like Van Gogh?” Taehyung has gone back to his pallet as he mixes the various shades of reds and oranges together.

“Who doesn’t?”

“Like, all of our school?”

“Nah. They pretend that better artists exist.” His answer surprises you. You’d never pegged him as someone who appreciated the more sombre period of art. His paintings usually were a lot more cheery and sometimes rather complicated.

You’re kind of lost in the long hallway covered with several paintings. The tall ceilings and the dim lighting only making you more excited to take in such beautiful art in silence with the only sound being the bristles of Taehyung’s brushes across the canvas.

“You like his work too I assume?”

“Mhm.” You’re too lost in the various paintings to really properly answer him. You’ve almost forgotten where you are until Taehyung speaks again. But this time, from somewhere far closer as you can smell the musky scent that always accompanied him.

“This one is my favourite.” His voice startles you a little when he appears just behind you, slightly to the side so you can look to the side and watch his long neck fall back when he looks up at the painting.

“I like it too.” Your voice is quieter than before. Like neither of you want to disturb the air surrounding you. It’s probably the first time you haven’t felt instantly annoyed by Taehyung’s presence. When you look besides you again, you don’t realise it’s the second mistake you’ve made that night. Because Taehyung is staring right back at you and this time he doesn’t stop. Your breath hitches in your throat when you catch his dimly lit face staring intensely at you. Or maybe it was the lighting that amplified every look. Every gesture. Whatever it was, in that moment, you’d never felt more attracted to Kim Taehyung.

“I lied.” His whisper floats across your skin and the light breeze that comes with the breath from his words has your eyes closing for just a few seconds longer when they blink.

“A-About what?” Taehyung has somehow moved even closer because you could feel the heat from his chest seeping through your own shirt. It also didn’t help that his shirt was fully unbuttoned and the smooth expanse of his chest was absolutely bare for your traitorous eyes to feast on.

He brings up a hand, slowly as if not to startle you like he had last week, and tucked the stray strand of hair behind your ear. “About you not being my type.”

The only thing your body seems to be able to do at the moment is turn your face back towards the painting, heart thudding in your chest as you feel his hands move all of the hair from your neck out of the way to the other side. Exposing the sensitive flesh to the cool air inside his apartment. “You’re exactly my type and better.”

This time the words are whispered s close to your ear that you have to physically clutch tightly on to yourself so you don’t flinch from his breath tickling the flesh of your neck. You’re biting your lip, trying not make any sudden movements or noise because honestly, you didn’t trust yourself to not jump his bones. How was he this sexy and annoying at the same time?

“I kn-know.” You’re hoping that teasing is evident in your voice but that plan has gone down the gutter as soon as Taehyung presses his luscious lips in to an open mouthed kiss against the side of your throat. So instead, your response comes out way too breathy and you can’t stop the moan escaping you in the end.

“You’re just always looking for trouble aren’t you, y/n?” How is his voice perfectly steady? He doesn’t even sound remotely affected as he brings his arms around you from behind, fully moving behind you as well while he continues to undo the strings of control you had tied tightly around your brain. Because seems like you’re only thinking with your vagina at the moment.

His hand have slipped beneath your shirt after playing with the hem for a few seconds and testing the waters. When you don’t push his hands away – you could barely breath at the moment – he slips them inside your thin shirt, tracing circles across your torso and up until his warm, large – so fucking huge – hands are taking handfuls of your breasts before he’s gently squeezing the mounds.

“Oh.” You feel like you’re going boneless by the second as your head lolls back and on to his shoulder and you’re just praying that your brain shuts up and lets you enjoy these sensations without the red alarm bells going off in your head that you hated him!

You hit mute on said alarms as soon as you feel his index finger and thumbs rolling your puffy nipples through the fabric of your bra into hardened pointy tips and you’ve finally lost the filter on your mouth. “F-Fuck. Taehyung, ungh.”

“Look at you. Thought you hated me, huh?”

“I still, mh f-fuck, d-do.” Being a slave to your stubborn ways, you’re retaliating with your words before you can even keep yourself in check. Taehyung doesn’t seem to be bothered though. He’s just chuckling at your pathetic attempts at trying to hold on to some autonomy even if your body is betraying the fuck out of you. The constant squeezing, rolling and pinching of your nipples has you almost mindless, you’re not sure you can survive much more than this.

“Sure. At least your body doesn’t lie though.” He’s squeezing the mounds firmly this time before he’s slipping one of his hands downwards again. You’re aching and wet and aroused beyond words but finally you’re up to the point where you can easily ignore the rational side of your brain and let your body take control.

Breathing loudly, you’re almost panting with every inch that Taehyung’s hand moves closer to your underwear. You’re so soaked that you can feel your panties sticking to the contours of your pussy lewdly and knowing that Taehyung was about to touch you there had you dripping in more. You can’t remember the last time you were this horny from just foreplay.

Taehyung closes his lips around your pulse point before he sucks a punishing bruise in that patch of skin. “Spread your legs y/n. That’s it.”

He’s cooing at you when you instantly comply, whimpering his name when he presses his entire palm on your clit, rubbing the hard nub in gentle circles while you’re about to cum just from his words alone.

“Look at you. So wet and soaking. Have you always been this wet when you’ve been giving me nasty looks baby? Hm? Tell me.” His pace is increasing and the audible sound of your arousal coming through the layers of clothing makes you want to hide your face from the sheer embarrassment.

“T-Tae. Please.” You’re pleading sounds like you’re on the verge of tears and it’s not too far off from the truth. Your legs are spread but not enough for you to completely enjoy the feel of his hands. Not that he seems to be in any rush though.

“Please what y/n? Please use your pussy as your apology? Are you going to be a mouthy slut or let me use your cunt to milk my cock? It’s the least I deserve after the way you’ve treated me in every lecture.”

He’s pouting in mock hurt as he leans his head forward to look in to your eyes as if you’re not being destroyed by the fast paced circling of your clit under his palm. Your eyebrows are furrowed, eyes half shut as the mind blowing orgasm looms around the corner. You’re about to cry from happiness and relief when he slips your underwear to the side, sliding his middle and index finger in without a warning and without remorse. The force with which he’s pumped his long, thick digits inside jerking back against him. Which only makes matters worse when you can feel the evidence of his own arousal pressing against your back. You’re slightly terrified from the sheer bulk of his erection too because it sits hot and heavy behind you. You just know he isn’t the average size you’re used to and that excite and scares you at the same time.

“Would you listen to that? Your cunt is singing for me babe.” You’d smack him across his chest for being so dramatic and cheesy but the sounds of your excessive wetness just has you hiding your face in his neck. But Taehyung is having none of it when he’s harshly tugging back your head as he weaves his hand in your hair.

“I said listen. You slutty pussy is leaking for me y/n. And you pretend to not even be able to stand my existence.” His words are harsh and said from between his gritted teeth. The sounds of the inside of his palm slapping against your clit with every thrust is obscene and rude. Yet, you can’t seem to care. Only moaning loudly and in a higher pitch with every smack against your heated flesh. Arousal drips steadily around his fingers while your symphony of ‘ahs’ and ‘ohs’ continues – almost sounding like you were in pain.

His grip around your hair is harsh and his pace inside your pussy relentless. It’s like he’s angry. Angry that you’re this wet. Angry that you’re ready to cum around his fingers just like this. That makes the two of you.

“Come on baby. Cum around my fingers. I’ll need it to prep myself before I enter this pussy, hm? You’re too tight for me to just impale you on my cock right now like you want me to. Don’t you?” You’re nodding enthusiastically as your breath hitches with your orgasm ripping through you like a wildfire,

“Taehyung! Fuck I-I’m cumming. Oh god…” You’re heaving and hiccupping as his rigid fingers continue to brush against your sensitive insides until you’re jerking back with each thrust.

“There you go. Easy… easy, baby.” You’re panting like you’ve run a marathon and your neck aches from being bent that way while Taehyung had your head captive.

He doesn’t give you much time to recover as he’s turning you around to pick you up and take you back to the living room, dropping your body down on to the fuzzy carpeted floor. He makes quick work of his shirt and his pants, ridding himself of every item of clothing – not that he was wearing much – before he takes his soiled fingers and wraps them around his extremely intimidating girth. He doesn’t seem nearly as nervous as you but you still don’t stop him. “Take off your clothes for me baby. I want to see you.”

Your body is moving instantly like it was programmed to listen to Taehyung’s every command. Soon, you’re laying back down on the ground, watching him stroke his incredibly hard cock that stood rigid against his toned stomach. He looks like a wolf that’s about to devour you as his pokes out from between the corner of his lips, eyes neve wavering from your own. You’re biting your own lips and squirming on the soft carpet when he just keeps looking and makes no move.

“Spread your legs again baby. Let me see you pussy.” He hisses as soon as your legs fall open, your red, slightly swollen pussy coming in to full view as he finally kneels down to his knees, grabbing your thighs to pull you closer until you were flush against his cock. His hands gently massage the area between your thighs and pussy, needing the rosy flesh and effectively making you drip even more when he looks directly down at his hands that work your labia softly – keeping in mind how sensitive you were.

“Look at you. So puffy. So wet. So fucking beautiful.” He leans forward to look in to your eyes and you’re holding on to your breath when you finally see his face so up close for the first time this evening.

“Can I make you feel good, honey? Will you let my cock make you feel good?” There is no hesitancy in your reply because you’re fisting the soft rug besides you and arching your body in to his.

“Fuck,” it’s the first time you can hear Taehyung’s voice shake as he adjusts his hips and rubs he blunt head of his blood fattened cock against your swollen labia. “I’ve wanted you for so long, y/n. I can’t believe you’re here. Are you sure baby? Because I won’t be able to stop or go gentle once I s-start. Oh fuck.”

You can see how desperate he is for you to say yes but nonetheless, your heart still warms at his concern and even though you were slightly scared of his above average length – and girth – you were mostly excited as the anticipation had built steadily. So you give him the green light, nodding for him to continue.

He seems to be surprised too for some reason and you’re caught off gard when his mouth crashed down to your own. His kiss is ferocious and passionate, tilting his head every which way to capture every noise you make, tongue playing with your own. You’re just enjoying the out of the blue kiss until it all makes sense. Because when you break apart from the kiss to shout out your surprise, you can feel all of his hot length pressing the deepest corners inside your pussy. The kiss had been a perfect distraction and you hadn’t even felt the pain when he’d pushed in.

In fact, the slight burn that was present as he let you adjust around him was more arousing than anything. “T-Tae ungh. You’re s-so big. Oh god.”

He’s watching every facial expression you make and he doesn’t miss the almost drunk expression on your pretty face when he drags his length out slowly, only to slam back inside. Your breasts bounce with every thrust that pushes you further up the carpeted floor. It feels better than good. Better than amazing. You’d never thought you’d enjoy penetrative sex this much after having several mediocre experiences but at this moment, all you wanted to do was egg Taehyung on to go as fast as he could. So you do.

“Fuck y/n.” The seat of his lap slaps against your damp skin as he pounds his leaking cock in to you unremittingly. “You’re so t-tight. The tightest cunt I’ve ever been inside. You like it baby? Hm?”

Taehyung was definitely a dirty talker. All throughout this encounter. He hadn’t stayed quiet for longer than a minute. Always wanting to say what he was feeling, wanted to do to you or was going to do to you. And until today, you never realised how much of a sucker you were for verbal stimulation.

“Y-eh-ess. I lo-uh-ve it.” Your words bounce and hiccup out of you with the same rhythm as Taehyung’s dragging of his cock inside you. It’s like he’d grown even larger and you could cry from how good he felt inside. In fact, you were sure you probably were crying with how blurry your vision was getting.

Taehyung had fully covered your body with his own, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder now to split you open even more before he increased his pace until you felt like he was actually splitting you open.

“Tae! I’m going t-to c-cum again. Oh god.” He was breathing hard, sweat dripping down his temples as his gaze never left your face. You were actually crying now; clawing at his back as you held on while he parted you open every time he pushed the entire girth of his cock until the base so that with every thrust, his balls slapped against your ass obscenely.

“Let go baby. Cum all over my cock.” He could already see the white, translucid creaminess forming around the base of his cock as it continued to slam inside you, signalling how close he himself was with his cock leaking pre-cum profusely. “Fuck, you look so delectable darling. Look at how your pussy gapes around my cock every time, hm? Your pussy was made to fit around my cock. You’re m-mine now. Made j-just for my cock.”

You could tell how close he was since he’d seemed to lost all and every filter on his mouth. Pounding in to you while you clutch on to him for deer life and finally release around his cock that shows no sign of relenting until he reaches his own release. Thankfully, he’s not too far behind as he grabs your legs for the final round, pushing his hips in to the hilt before he’s shouting out his release. You can feel the warmth of his cum explode inside the walls of your pussy, filling you up to the brim until you could feel his spunk leak around you thoroughly abused lips. Taehyung lays his head in to the crook of your neck very much like how you had at the start.

It's peacefully silent as you both catch your breath, your fingers lazily massaging his scalp without even realising. You’re finally gathering your bearings and coming to terms with the fact that you just fucked each other’s brains out when you could barely stand each other before. And you absolutely do not know how to proceed from here. Not when his cock was still inside you. Thankfully, you don’t have to worry about that decision for too long because Taehyung is pulling back his face to stare in your eyes deeply as if he’s also at a loss for words.

You search his face for any disgust or any realisation that will make him pull away from you and you don’t know why you’re this nervous and worried about his reaction. You didn’t care before so why now? Why was your heart beating so fast that you felt like it was going to come out of your mouth?

“Y/N,” Taehyung post-sex, sexy voice breaks you out of your downward spiral as he brings his hand up to caress your cheek damp from the tears earlier. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You watch him for a few seconds before nodding slowly and that’s all the confirmation Taehyung needs before taking your lips between his once again. And just like that, he kisses you lazily, tangling his hot, sweet tongue with your own for who knows how long. You two stay just like that for a long time, kissing ecahother with so much passion that it scares you how much the thought of breaking away from his lips gives you anxiety. It seems to be the same case for Taehyung because when you break apart to breathe in much needed air, he pulls you back in – mouth open and tongue seeking your own.

Sometime during the night, he’s started to harden inside you once again and rather than breaking away, he fucks you exactly the opposite way he had earlier. This time, it’s slow, even more sensual and the space between your body is almost non-existent. By the time your phone rings and breaks you both out of the haze that had you both intoxicated in the apartment, it’s sometime around midnight. Though Taehyung doesn’t stop even for a second until he’s made you cum once again and spilled himself inside you as well.

The night had definitely taken a turn as you both talk – for once without the intention of insulting each other – and fuck. Mostly fuck actually. Turns out Taehyung made you insatiable and his eagerness and fondness for cumming inside you didn’t exactly help. After replying to Minnie and sending Marion a message of apology, you’re both dozing off on the soft floor.

_________________________________________________________________________

“Come to my art exhibition with me? I want you by my side.” He asks you in the morning, slightly breathless as he grinds his erection – seriously, how often did this boy get hard? – against your damp, soiled pussy, awaking you from your sleep.

“O-Okay.” You can only moan in reply as he takes a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as he coaxes out another orgasm from you before carrying you off to the shower.

“You’re such a horn dog.” Splashing water at his face, you’re laughing as he attacks your sides, tickling you in revenge.

“A horn dog you slept like, a thousand times with.” Your mouth is falling open in mock disbelief but he just kisses your frown away.

“It will be zero times if I see that sex painting at your show!” Taehyung is giggling at your pout and the frown that creases your brows as he kisses it away, promising you that you can burn his ‘sex painting’ before the show.

Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

a/n: thoughts? :ooo

[funny-mlb-screenshots]

My Favorite ML Fics (With links and descriptions)

One Thing After Another - Marinette notices that, sometimes, Adrien acts a little out of the ordinary--like the time he stood in a cardboard box for no reason, or when he actually hissed at Nino. It's only when she starts to notice the similarities between Adrien and a certain feline that she begins to get suspicious.

Basically, Adrien acts like a cat when he probably shouldn't.

Back to Us - After a reveal so shocking it rocks the core of Paris itself, the villain Hawk Moth is finally defeated...at a great personal cost to heroes Ladybug and Chat Noir. With the city safe, they go their separate ways, returning to the lives they were forced to put on hold since receiving their Miraculous.

Now, seven years later, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is on the rise, studying at the fashion college of her dreams by day, working at her dream internship by afternoon...and occasionally moonlighting as Ladybug by night. This routine is set so firmly in place that, once it's shattered by an old-yet-new enemy, and the reappearances of a cold friend and a hot partner, the whiplash threatens to send Marinette spiraling down into chaos.

As Ladybug, she can do anything...but soon those limits will be tested, whether she is in or out of the costume

Truthful Scars - Adrien Agreste has never been an expert in controlling his emotions. When feelings for his classmate in pigtails begin to arise, he can't stop himself from seeing her any chance he gets—even when wearing a pair of cat ears and a black tail. Although his affections are strong and true, he doesn't exactly know how to deal with them, especially under the watchful eye of his father.

After all, what's a boy to do when he accidentally finds out that the girl he's got a crush on returns his feelings?

 [Obsession - Miraculous has unintended side effects. A chance encounter leaves Chat Noir in Marinette's magic hands. Scritch and scratch, this kitty has needs. MariChat.

Glaze - He watched her fade, right before his eyes, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Quiver - Spring in Paris, a time for flowers and love, for fashion and passion. But heated blood can lead to dangerous decisions and Adrien’s about to discover how hard things can be. Hawk Moth is on the horizon. COMPLETE]

Smoulder - Marinette traced her fingers down the smooth lines of the magazine, a blush creeping to her face. It wasn’t just his toned, muscular body that set her aflame, although that was certainly a bonus. It was his eyes. The way his body appeared, languid like a summers day. His body said relax but his eyes said devour. From the pages of the advertisement, Adrien smouldered in a way that he’d never done during any of his other numerous photographs, and yet she was struck with a familiarity that made her skin tingle, made her swallow with sudden and surprising nervousness. She was sure she’d seen that expression somewhere before. A pair of green eyes looking at her like that, with an unknown question in his hungry gaze. She’d seen that smoulder before.

In which Adrien loses a bet and becomes an underwear model, Marinette loses her mind, and the whole fiasco starts a fire which might lead to the pair discovering their identities.

Telltale -  It all starts with a simple injury, but slowly Ladybug begins to really see who Chat Noir is, and Adrien begins to see Marinette…

Pick-Up and Chase - After she accidentally trips into Adrien and apologizes about "falling for him," Marinette learns that he's no match for cheesy pick-up lines--whether they were unintended or not. And while she finds it flattering that he turns into a flustered mess with only a few words, Marinette comes to regret making him uncomfortable. That is, until she learns he's Chat Noir. At which point the phrase "just desserts" becomes a permanent fixture in her everyday plans. A story in which Adrien is flustered, Marinette is smooth as glass at dropping lines, and Chat Noir gets the romance he was always asking for--even if he doesn't quite know how to handle it

Won’t Tell a Soul - Nino accidentally runs head long into the biggest most stressful secret he can imagine, but now that he knows the truth about Marinette he is determined to help her in any way he can.

Serendipitous Fate Adrien is excited to reveal his true identity, while Marinette is terrified. But Master Fu says they can't afford to be distant any longer. Chat Noir and Ladybug are meant to work in tandem both in and out of uniform, their strength stemming from the bond created between them. Yet, teenagers are sometimes better at dancing blind than running with wide open eyes, even with the steps laid out before them.

Steps in the path of an expanding world. Apart, they'll flounder. But together, they might just stand a chance.

Anywhere, I wouldve followed you - Indygodusk "Just because you care for something, doesn't mean you get to keep it."

Lately, Marinette's luck has been failing her. No one's guessed her secret identity yet, but after Hawk Moth escalates his attacks, she decides it's time to finally tell Chat Noir. Unfortunately, it's not that easy. To make things worse, her home life is falling apart, college is looming, and she can't keep a boyfriend. Secretly, Marinette's not sure she even wants to be Ladybug anymore.

Adrien's life isn't faring much better, especially after dark secrets about his mother come to light.

Then the unthinkable happens. Afterwards, both Adrien and Marinette have to make their own luck. In the process, they defeat the bad guy and make their dreams come true (even if those dreams weren't what they thought they'd be).

Sting - When Chat Noir inexplicably disappears, leaving Ladybug bee-hind to face Papillon on her own, a new wielder is chosen to keep the akuma from swarming. Ladybug is adamant she doesn’t want another partner buzzing around and why is this new-bee flirting with her?

Meanwhile, Adrien just wishes Ladybug would stop bugging out and listen to him because his bee puns are fuzz-tastic.

The repercussions of the bee are farther reaching than anyone realised.

The Parts of You - “I just…” Her hands migrated from covering her face to clutching her hair. Her ears matched her suit but her eyes were glowing with — what was that? Love? Admiration? His chest tightened. “I can’t talk to him! I always get tongue-tied, or say something stupid, or trip over my own feet. It’s so embarrassing! I mean, I’ve gotten better since we first met, like, we’re actually kind of friends now, but it’s kind of a big leap to go from ‘I can sort of string more than two words together in front of you,’ to ‘Please date me, I love you,’ you know?” His breath hitched at the word “love,” but Ladybug didn’t seem to notice. “Plus, it’s not like we’re super-close or anything. I mean,” she tittered nervously, “we’ve known each other for years, but it’s not like talking to you.”

If words could have killed him he would have been in his grave.

In which Identity Shenanigans™ make everyone's life way harder than it has to be.

Breeze - Marinette sobbed into her hands as she recalled Chloé’s hurtful words, each and every one of them.

“You’re nothing! You’re not even worth yourself, much less your so-called friends! Don’t you see they just hang out with you because they pity you?! You’re worth the dirt under my feet, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And you have no right to speak to me like that, you pathetic little brat. You don’t even have the right to speak to anyone! Just keep your stupid thoughts and ideas to yourself because nobody wants to hear them!”

After a big fight with Chloé, Marinette finds herself sobbing on her bed. The words hit her deep down. And before she knows it a dark Akuma comes fluttering in, ready to introduce her to Hawkmoth…

Technical Difficulties - “Man,” Nino groans, accepting defeat at last, as he gives the golden elevator doors a vicious, vengeful kick. Just like that, he remembers his present company.

Nino turns chagrined eyes to Ladybug.

“Er. Sorry… Probably shouldn’t take it out on the doors?”

Ladybug doesn’t seem to hear him. She is staring hard at the security camera located in the corner. He’s never seen her so quiet… not that he’s seen much of her, that is. Definitely not this close.

Damn, he can’t help but think. What Adrien wouldn’t give to be here right now.

“I’m sure they’ll fix it soon,” Nino offers tentatively, because it seems like something Adrien might say. Or Ladybug, probably, if she weren’t so distracted.

“They will,” she acknowledges, but her eyes are still pretty far away. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“What?“

Ladybug straightens. She makes a decision; it does really pretty things to her eyes, so Nino doesn’t hear her at first, when she asks him for his hat.

— In which Ladybug gets trapped in an elevator with... Nino. { LoveSquare, brotp!MariNino, all-around-friendship!fic } Prompt:Trapped in an Elevator.

 Curiosity and Satisfaction - When Adrien agreed to this line of work, he thought all his focus would be on the job of catching the elusive Lady Luck. It never crossed his mind that someone else would catch his attention.

 Turn Loose the Mermaids - Marinette should have dragged him under the water in and feast on his body when she had the chance. Maybe then she wouldn't have been his prisoner. Blasted pirate.

That awkward moment when… - “Marinette wasn’t an idiot. As many precautions as she insisted they take, she knew she and Chat Noir were both going to find out sooner or later. Of course, Marinette assumed that the way they’d found out wasn’t by running right smack into each other and detransforming in front of the other. So of course, in a typical calm and rational manner, they pointed to each other and screamed.”

Because, nine times out of ten, letting the cat out of the bag just ends up being very, very awkward.

Tandem - Two students get carried away in a friendly game of dodge ball.... and two other students get very suspicious

Best Frenemies - Marinette Dupain-Cheng leads a double life. It’s often difficult, but it’s the only way to protect the people she cares about. But when her rival, Chloé Bourgeois, discovers her most closely guarded secret, she finds the two separate aspects of her identity blending together… but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. It can be nice sharing the journey with someone even if it's the last person she ever expected to trust with her secrets.

Chloé Bourgeois leads a double life. It’s often difficult, but it’s the only way to protect the people she cares about. But when her rival, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, discovers her most closely guarded secret, she finds the two separate aspects of her identity blending together… but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. It can be nice sharing the journey with someone even if it's the last person she ever expected to trust with her secrets.

The Date - They had a simple deal: one date. Chat had one date to sweep Ladybug off her feet. If she still didn’t like him in that way at the end of the day, he’d give up his attempts altogether. Ladybug took the deal, knowing that her heart belonged to another.

But we know them too well.

Wherever I Go - Marinette accidentally gives her class the impression that she has a crush on Chat Noir.

Adrien decides it's time to get over Ladybug.

Ne Me Quitte Pas - “This is my umbrella,” Adrien told him, as though he didn't quite believe it and the words would bring some sense to it.

“Even I could have told you that,” the kwami said with a shrug, his focus returning to his meal.

“Why did she keep my umbrella?” he asked, only half-directing the question at Plagg.

The kwami, however, chose to answer anyway. “Well, she is your friend, isn't she?” he asked as he finally gave in and stuffed the cheese in his mouth. He swallowed, closing his eyes in satisfaction. “What's so weird about it?”

Bring Me Home - Everybody deals differently with the consequences of Hawkmoth's defeat.

The day after, Ladybug eagerly awaits her silly kitty, finally ready to hand him her heart and start a new chapter of their story with him. He never shows up.

The day after, Adrien Agreste shuts the whole world out, ashamed of his father's action, while Marinette grows more and more exhausted and depressed as the years go by.

Five years later, can anything really be salvaged out of the remnants of their relationship?

Kitten Therapy - After scoring the highest points in a stress level test at school Marinette and Adrien have to take 'recreational hours' in order to prevent being akumatized. It seems like a long awaited break for them until Ayla hacks into CCTV and discovers …?

Mostly fluff. Especially the kittens.

Eperdument - All the pieces are starting to fit together, as much as Marinette doesn't want them to fit. As much as she desperately fights against seeing the signs, sometimes the cat refuses to stay in the bag.

And sometimes the cat kwami refuses to stay out of her lunch bag.

I Didn’t Want it to be Like This - There was always the possibility that someone would find out. Marinette, Paris’s very own Ladybug, knew that it was a high chance. Eventually someone was going to put two and two together.

The Most Eloquent Reply - Deaf Marinette

MDR - Marinette liked not knowing much about her online friends. With the arrival of a newcomer to their group chat, they suddenly start to believe that she has a crush on herself, no matter how obvious she tries to make it that she likes someone else. AU.

[igobacktomay]

i know i’m a clown who posts writing twice a year with the preface “this isn’t finished yet” but: this isn’t finished yet, i wanted to share it anyway. sharing personal writing sleeves me out a little but it’s also the only kind of writing i do, & often the kind i like to read, so it follows that i have to share it sometimes. this is called “cappadocia, south carolina” and it’s a true story but the names have been changed

Curled in on myself on the cavernous and unfamiliar bed with my knees to my chest, I tried and failed to steady my breathing. Avery’s breath was hot and wet in my ear, and some part of me somewhere in the back of a warehouse was saying, This was where you were when it happened but I did my best to shake that off. I tried to focus on the warmth of her chest on my back, arms wrapped around my arms that wrapped around my legs, her legs curled loosely up towards mine, a firm crescent moon around my smaller body. I tried to come up with something to say and couldn't. It was like someone had smeared Vaseline on the lens. All my thoughts were gone. All that was left was feelings, simultaneously hollow and all-consuming, a wiping of the slate, a disconnection from myself, a fear of something, a painful memory hovering just out of frame. 

Avery rubbed my hands slowly as if she was waiting for me to speak. I only shivered in my fog. I had no words. Eventually she asked, "Hey, if you could live in a colony on the moon or in underground tunnels, which would you pick?"

Her voice was light and curious, testing me for a response, so I screwed one up out of somewhere and asked her if there was natural light anywhere in the tunnels. My words came out slow and dream-like. I pictured them sliding into the corners of the room and kept my eyes shut, lest I see it.

She seemed to think for a second before she answered.

"No, I don't think there's natural light."

"I still pick the tunnels."

"Why?"

"There's these tunnels in..." and I trailed off. Got lost for a moment thinking of a photo I saw on a Wikipedia page somewhere, of sunlight coming in through thin alabaster to illuminate a partially-underground room. I tried to stay focused on the image, which was comforting, until I could remember the words for what I was trying to say. It was also possible that I had invented the picture, or that somewhere a few archaeological sites got mixed up in my brain. I couldn’t tell.

"Fuck," I whispered, "I know this. Hold on, I know where they are, I just--" and putting my thoughts into words was like trying to make noise underwater. I started to worry that all that would come out was air bubbles and all that would come in was drowning. The water poured into my skull and carried off the rest of the thought, leading me back into the empty moor of dissociation, further away from the woods and the lake and the cold bed. But Avery continued to stroke my hands and arms and the feeling was distracting, and thinking about how it was distracting suddenly let me break a hole through the gray curtain. I saw the impossible stone window again, and for a second its light shone through me.

"Cappadocia,” I pronounced carefully, still clutching my legs to my chest as tight as I could. “They're in the Cappadocia region of... somewhere." 

"What are?" Avery asked. I blinked. How long had it been?

"What? These tunnels I’m telling you about. They're like, hundreds of... maybe thousands of… years... I don't know. They're old, and they uh, they're in the desert somewhere, and I'd want to live in one of those. They look nice."

"Oh. That sounds good.” She paused, and the part of me that still knew where I was knew that she was running out of things to say. I hoped she wouldn’t stop trying anyway. Though I was largely unable to communicate it, I was convinced her conversation was the only thing keeping me from slipping over the edge into catatonia. The animal of myself was drifting back to the Ice Age, warming its illiterate hands by the original hearth fire in my mind.

“If you lived in the tunnels, would you fall in love with a mole person?" was what she came up with. I gave it some consideration.

“Yeah, probably."

"Would you have mole babies?"

“I'd have a mole abortion, Avery." She didn’t laugh. Could I blame her? She continued to stroke my hands and breathe evenly on my hair, but didn’t ask me any more questions. I had the feeling she wasn’t sure what to do; I was not in the right condition to illuminate her.

Since pulling away and curling into a ball, I hadn't opened my eyes for a long time. I knew it would be dark in the room if I did, but I still couldn't face anything. I feared stimulation. I only wanted to be comfortable and still, to exist away from myself. I could feel the core of my body shaking involuntarily, even though I was warm and knew I wasn’t in danger. I started worrying that I was going to forget who Avery was and stop feeling safe because I didn't know who was holding me.

Instead, I suddenly recalled in a flash my memories of fifteen minutes earlier, looking down across the flat plain of my stomach at thin bare legs sprouting out of a borrowed oversized sweater, her rolling the condom on and me waiting on the pain and the pistoning, and I felt terribly anxious and sick. Not over Avery. It wasn’t her fault. I felt sick with myself. I had felt the blankness replacing my arousal even as I consented and participated, as I looked at our tangle of legs and wondered vaguely which belonged to me. I had hoped I could somehow stop the feeling on my own, already sensing the difficulty of the words coming out, and so said nothing in protest. I couldn’t stop the feeling on my own, and halfway through a handjob she had asked, “are you okay?” and I had whispered, “I’m sorry, I feel really weird,” and slowly folded myself down onto the duvet.

Now the guilt rolled in. Guilt for my inability to speak, to stop anything from happening when I knew I should, guilt for putting Avery in a position like this one: having to stop consensual sex three minutes in to comfort her pained partner like a child & question her own actions. I didn’t want to worry her while we were on vacation. What I wanted was just to have a good time with my girlfriend, and now I had failed step one for both of us.

Why can't you work? I pleaded with my body. Christ, why can’t you be normal for once? Nothing that bad even happened to me in the first place. Why am I so fucked up over it? There was no real urgency to these thoughts, but they were carried by cloudy waves of overwhelming discomfort that made me want to cry.

Just as I was starting to spiral and squeeze myself tighter together, Avery started talking in my ear again. I could tell by her tone that she was telling me a story to help me relax, and I stopped following the thread of my fear long enough to force myself to listen and breathe slowly.

What she started with was, "Did you know how cigarettes got their name?"

I took one deep breath before pushing the words out. "No. Tell me how.”

"Well,” Avery said, snuggling her arms closer around my body, “Once there was this man named Sigur. He was a really tall, and uh, lanky man, and he always wore a white shirt and kind of... tan-orange pants. And he always carried tobacco and rolling papers with him wherever he went, you know, he was a smoker. And when he would roll his tobacco into the papers, he would make it so the ends were tan-orange and the rest was white... so it would look just like a little version of him in his outfit. And, so, he called them Sigur-ettes, as in, smaller Sigurs! And that's how cigarettes got their name."

I didn't respond very much to the story, except at the end when I said, "I'm glad, he's... good," and then trailed off.

There were several minutes of silence, during which I spontaneously and uncontrollably pictured what I might look and feel like in the event that I were able to carve out all of my internal organs and sell them on eBay. I forced it back down into the blankness. My usual visualization of my brain as two hands that plucked information out and dispensed it had been replaced by the conviction that those hands had formed tight fists and curled towards each other with their backs to me, like two small cats settling in to sleep.

"We can go back to the way we were before if you want," Avery said from behind me, pulling me a little closer and rocking me slightly onto my back, as if to guide me to roll over so we were face to face. The animal in my brain didn’t like my body being moved by other people but the animal would not move my body by itself. These were words I couldn’t speak. I mumbled back a vague protest.

"You don't have to do that, this was fine."

"Hey, maybe I like the other position better,” she said. “I might have. C'mon."

I couldn’t find the energy to resist her gentle tugging, or a reason to do so, so as she pulled at me, I slowly let go of my legs and stretched them cautiously towards the end of the bed. My shoulders relaxed a little, and the next thing I knew, Avery’s blue eyes were looking into mine in the dim room, and she was steadying my shoulder saying, “There, that wasn’t so bad, right?”

I still closed my eyes against her gaze and responded without words, but she was right, it wasn’t so bad. In this new position I could feel exhaustion finally seeping into me as my muscles started to relax by increments. As I calmed down and counted my fingers and returned to myself, I started to regain the part of me that felt embarrassment and shame and was stricken. It was the worst kind of hangover to have. Every time I found my way out of that space, the first part of me to come back was the shame.

“I’m sorry this always happens,” I exhaled into the hollow of Avery’s neck. “I wish it didn’t, I mean, I really, I hate it, I didn’t want--”

“Hey,” she said softly, and my heart almost broke. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m not mad. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay, I thought, even if you aren’t mad, but I didn’t say it. I let her reassure me, keeping the blankness to myself as it shrunk back into its own corner of my mind.

“It’s okay,” she said again. “It’s not your fault.”

Eventually her hands in my hair compelled the rest of the terror to let go of me, and I fell asleep beside her, not cuddling but facing opposite directions on our own sides of the bed, as was our way.

In the morning when we woke up and reached our hands sleepily towards each other, the room was still cold and the sky outside was gray and misty. We dressed without talking very much, and I wondered if I was supposed to offer her some kind of explanation for my behavior. I decided against it; downstairs there were friends and blueberry pancakes and coffee and gospel, and a four hour drive home ahead of me. My night fears had ebbed away and left me tired, but no longer too foggy to think. I ate breakfast and smoked a clove cigarette over a steaming mug of black coffee in a deck chair, next to chatty punks wrapped up in quilts like caterpillars, and felt quietly grateful for all the people I loved. Avery’s best friend asked us how we slept when we made it down the stairs, and we both said, “fine!”

After we all got home and I was by myself in my dorm room again, I googled photos of the tunnels in Cappadocia, which turned out to be in Turkey. There was no image of a room with a thinly carved stone window. No images of light glowing through such a thing. The picture must have been something my dissociation invented, a new safe place to hide. I pictured it and tested its capabilities, and liked what I saw.

[anochuu]

Infatuation

⤷ Genre: Fantasy

⤷ Vampire!Yoongi x Reader (Oneshot)

⤷ Summary: -

Vampire,a blood-sucking monster under the form of a human skin that are terrifyingly beautiful that they could deceive you just with their looks. They say have lived for over decades and only with the survival of human's blood.A creature that burnt into a pile of ashes in the cause of the day sun's light;and they were to be killed by stake them right in through their heart.

If those creature did not stand before you would not have believe they would really actually exist.Even until now.

(Y/n)’s gaze hues stayed on the figure and the scene he is causing right now that able to choked her own breath at the back of her throat.

Her eyes bulged out from its sockets as the only source of this empty hallways was the liquid digested down his throat as if it was indeed the most scrumptious taste he had been ever drink. It is weird indeed the most dangerous situation at this time she can't feel her leg moving nor shifting an inch;stood frozen as a board on her very own spot.

His grip against his prey's being is tight,and what catches her eyes was the red crimson fluid oozing out from where the most blood veins are running-the neck.

And then, his head that buried onto the flesh of his prey slowly pulling away but enough to study his side profile and to confirm what the myth has told,she saw the very own Vampire's teeth to tear the prey's skin;fangs.His eyes narrowed to the side and found (y/n)'s being stand not too far away from them which make her body tensed immediately.

"Oh? I've been seen with an awful circumstance." He stood up straight,letting go off his hands from the prey of a young lady in her unconscious state onto the floor as if she were a rag doll.

"That's not very polite of you to stare at people." This time he turns around and fully facing her.

And this time,she could examine how this man—or probably this creature looks like-He had a very stunning figure,not to mention those white pale skin and the piercing red ruby gaze fixated on her with the small trail of blood stained on the corner of his lips.

He is wearing a rather black tuxedo;everything on him seems all black in apparels. He took a step catching her to flinch under it and in reflex she backs away.

This make the male to pull the end of his mouth into a smirk,and in a flesh with his inhuman ability,he appears right before her and a small shriek escaped from the female.

But a hand quickly places itself upon her mouth to prevent that from happening as he weights her stronger inhuman physics and pushes her smaller being onto the wall producing a small thud;but of course no one would hear on the other side considering a grand ball was held beyond the wall where the other crowds of people are gathering to dance within.

(Y/n)'s flickered upwards to see those pair of ruby eyes glowing red and his feature is just a few inches away from hers making her able to study it closely and clearer.

His almond-shaped eyes was definitely sharp and makes one very intimidated,his perfectly lip is coloured in red blood.It only takes a few words to describe this creature-brutally charming.

On the other hand, he found her amusing,well sort of. He knows very well she is taking in his look ever so slowly as if the whole time of the world belongs to her.

"Are you afraid?" He asks carefully.

She nodded in silent but hesitant at first.

His hand slowly lets go from her mouth,allowing her to inhale deep through it but seems to never be bothered moving away from her.

This made him realises one thing,

"Your smell—it's rather,interesting."

Her heart began to accelerate faster;

He studied her expression, "You look confuse."

"Are you—a Vampire?" She manage to croak out despite mustering a great courage to do so.

"From a very boggled scene you just saw this is the first a person would ask me an obvious answer." He scoffed lightly,almost finding himself laughing at the poor girl’s deluded face

She pulled her lip into a straight line;his eyes slackened at this,

"And to say you actually look in a daze more than..scared."

She stayed quiet,

"Are you?"

"I am.." her answer came out as a small whisper.

"But i would never thought a Vampire would actually still communicate with people normally,like this."

He rose an eyebrow;clearly he found her odd.Is she not scared of him? Or is she just plain dumb? Is she not going to throw a fist to him to escape herself,or is she too afraid to do so?

But judging from her determined feature,she seem not to be afraid at all.

"You are one of a weird girl,sweetheart." His hand trails up onto her chest,his fingers slightly grazing over her collarbone;then continues up to her jawline-sending shivers down her spine.

She might call herself crazy but somehow and oddly,she finds it enjoyable.But why would she enjoy this from a stranger? And more,a Vampire!

Is this what they called first sight in infatuation?

This cause the male to slipped off a light chuckles, "Quite the pleasure,isn't it?" His hand tugs her locks hair behind her shoulder exposing more of her bare shoulder and smooth white skin.

"Tell me," He starts again,before inching his face closer to the crook of her neck,

"Are you afraid of me?" His hot breath hits her skin,

But this time,she manage to answer loud and clear;

"No,i am not."

With a small smirk,his two sharp fangs peep out from its hidden lips,he wastes no second to pierced through her soft skin like a razor blade and caused the female to be flinched and let out a loud gasp.

Her body tensed and she tried to struggle away immediately if not for his both muscular arms hold her waist and hip in place. The delectable blood of hers instantly gurgled down his throat and just as he thought;it is clearly different from any other preys he has ever tasted before.

This stimulates him more as his fangs dug deeper seeming to never get enough of it;each of the gulp he is taking is in a huge amount.Her vision began to blurred,yellow and white dots appears before her sight and how her head felt so light,her body weakened.

"Hmphf—" Her finger twitched as she took in another deep gasp.

On cue,he pulls away-extracting his fangs back and lick the remaining liquid off from his lips not wanting a single drop goes to waste.

He pulls away far enough to study her now pale feature and her eyelids are dangerously closing anytime soon,her body slump over his chest for support.It was tempting-her blood.How could an ordinary girl smells really tantalising and yet,tasted so..sweet and savory just like one does run their tongue over a custard cream.

"It only hurts a little,doesn't it." He whispered right beside her earlobe before brushing his lips lightly upon it.

She is not able to speak up a thing,her mind is fuzzy as well as her strength has been drained out a lot.Eventually,she gave in to the darkness as she slump her head onto his shoulder and her both hands fell limply on both her sides.

But one thing for sure he did heard him mutters something she could not comprehend anymore,

"A rare treasure you are,(Y/n)."

She did not know for how long she had passed out but the moment she woke up,she woke up with a start.With the slight migraine headache she had but after studying the room she was slept in,it is her own room.

(Y/n) is back in her own room and own's bed. Her mind recalled back,was it just a dream? Was the whole thing just one of the delusional dream she had?

But when she placed a hand over the crook of her neck where he bit her,it was there-the puncture two tiny deep holes are there but the only thing is that it is now clean from the staining of her own blood.

Her bloon runs cold. So it was not a dream?

Everything happened at the masquerade ball was not a dream.She swung her both legs off the bed,made a run for the bathroom,trying not to stagger along the way.Her hand searches for the button to flicker the lights open.

And by that moment,before her was the mirror where it is now written in words by a deep red colour.Her body once again tensed and her eyes widened in horror;should she be afraid,or feel special for such a beautiful creature is clearly taking in an interest for her?

' I'm coming for you,(Y/n)'

[hisgirlwonder]

Wicked Games - Part One

Length: 3.6K words Warning: Smut (sex, mention of degradation, Michael secretly is a cuck?, etc etc) and angst   Synopsis: Every lawyer is given a case they would rather not work on and you’re no exception to this. Someone you know all too well ends up being your latest client, how will you cope under the pressure? You’re the best of the best in the world of law but you are, after all, only human. Notes: Today comes the day when I finally publish something about a character other than Michael. I’ve been staring at it for days because I didn’t want to ruin Duncan (I haven’t seen HOC) so hopefullyyyyyy this is okay! I’m kind of nervous in writing other things because my heart lies with Michael but I have been feeling such a pull to write for Cody’s other characters (I have some of an outline for another series for Michael x Reader x Jim so keep an eye out for that! It’s going to be a bit angsty from what I have so far) (also this is probably my favourite version of Y/N I’ll write about to date because we love a strong woman)

“Hello, Mrs Langdon,” Michael purrs, grinning at the sight of you coming through the front door. You plant a kiss on his cheek and apologise for the late arrival home; telling him those idiots at work were to blame.

Taking off your jacket feels like an effort with all of the buttons and a pair of tired hands; eventually you get there and hang it up on the coat stand. Michael asks if you had a rough day and your response is a heavily exhale of exhaustion followed with a remark of you have no idea as you’re kicking off your heels.

He closes the door and asks if you’ve eaten. You nod, explaining that you ordered in sushi earlier. It was unfortunate because having dinner together was one of the things that helped you unwind after a long day and today you had to miss it. It turns out your newest client held you back for much longer than intended and when you finally got to pack up for the day night, you leave feeling deflated because all you’ve done is run in circles and achieved nothing.

Michael sinks his warm thumbs into your trapezius muscles to try and massage the tautness out. You were never one to give up a fight because you thrived on winning but the weight of this was so heavy and it was only day one.

You feel those smooth hands glide down to rest on your upper arms and Michael tells you he’s going to get you a drink. A sigh of dejection erupts from your lungs, and you push past it to thank him before he disappears into the kitchen.

*

Michael re-appears with a drink in hand and as you’re taking it from him, you smile weakly and mouth thank you. You swallow a few mouthfuls to calm yourself before offloading onto your husband.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to be dumped with this case. I just, I mean, I just really wanted to slap the shit eating grin off of his face. He’s even more unrelenting than I remember.” You say, dumbfounded in disbelief at how anyone could have that kind of attitude.

“Oh, so you know him? Obviously, you can’t tell me specifics about the case but, might I ask, who is it?”

“Duncan Shepherd.”

You and Duncan ran in the same circles ever since your rise to power in the world of law so you’d been around each other more times than you’d like to admit. You couldn’t forget the first time you met – it was an opening for an art gallery where he gave you nothing but grief about being married all the while trying to win you over. It was almost like he forgot you were a lawyer who was well-versed in reading people. That, or he just didn’t care. Duncan did like a challenge.

Michael stays silent, making an oh face. He knew exactly from your recollection of stories and meetings what Duncan was like. Being the best of the best when it came to your profession had its perks but it also had its downfalls, like old men trying to buy their way into spending a night with you or pretty boys with more money than sense.

You’d represented your fair share of guilty people in passing but never one who got on your nerves as much as Duncan did. Maybe it was his comment about Michael being a “ball and chain” for you that did it, or perhaps it was more than that.

“I get the feeling you’re going to need something stronger than just a cocktail, I’ll be right back.”

*

As your eyes are scanning over the photographs on the mantelpiece waiting for Michael to return, there’s one that takes your interest and sends you headfirst into the throes of nostalgia.

It was from the engagement party where one of your best friends had styled you - she’d commissioned a very famous designer to create a black, cinch-waisted dress with a sweetheart neckline. Oh, you felt so glamorous and had no idea what life had planned for you following that night.

You smile to yourself when remembering how adamant she was for you to have curls and for them to be done by her; she spent what felt like hours perfecting them. The makeup was polished off with a deep plum coloured lipstick and she’d joked about how you looked like her very own masterpiece. Completely biased though because she’d always reiterate her belief that you didn’t need makeup since you possessed such natural beauty.

Your heart feels as if it has sunk to your feet when you recall what else happened. How could you forget? The joy of that evening fell short when your mother decided to pull you aside and snap, asking why you felt the need to dress the way you did. She was referring to how dark your dress and makeup were, because in her mind her own flesh and blood should take after her, dressing in shades of salmon and lilac. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time she’d called you out like this and it wouldn’t be the last.

Her serpent-like mouth had bitten you one too many times and now, older and wiser, your heart had become cold towards her. Every person you meet remarks about how your parents must be so proud of you and you want to laugh in their faces and admit the truth – that your father is nowhere to be found and your mother will never be satisfied with anything you do. It’s as if you were an aversion to her eyes as well because she was constantly telling you that no man would ever love you if you were to dress like you’re always going to a funeral. Even Michael professing his love in front of the room full of people wasn’t enough.

*

Either Michael must have been stealth-like or you were too engrossed in what you were thinking about because you didn’t hear the bottle of vodka on the table nor did you hear him come up behind you. The fixation on your younger self in the picture was interrupted by the feeling of his arms encasing you and the warmth of his chin resting on your exposed shoulder. “What are you doing?”

You point to the photograph, pained with a longing in that moment for how things used to be. Before law school, before all of this stress, before Duncan fucking Shepherd came into your life.

“This simultaneously feels like a lifetime ago yet so recent I can almost taste the entrees we ate that night. She’s ruined so many things. It was the beginning of some of the best things to happen to me,” you look down at the diamond ring on your finger before continuing, “But when I get like this, I’m reminded of her disapproval. Life would be much easier if my father didn’t decide to abandon me and leave me with her.”

“M/N is and will always be jealous of you, Y/N. You looked radiant that night and she was just projecting her own insecurities onto you. Do you remember the day we were introduced? I was wearing god knows what but I will never forget the sight of you in those ripped black jeans and boots. It gave me a raging hard-on to see you dressed like that. You’re even more beautiful now because you’re my wife.” He squeezes his arms around you in comfort before continuing, “Let’s forget about that and focus on something else. You’ve had enough drama for one day. Work was hard, wasn’t it? I think I know a way we can relieve some of this pent up energy.” As he’s talking, the bulge trapped in his pants is pushed into your ass and all of a sudden you become distracted.

You place the now empty glass beside the photo in question and guide a hand upwards to stroke at Michael’s face. You knew what he wanted but decided to play along, questioning him in a coy voice, “Oh? And what might that be, Mr. Langdon?”

Michael’s unwraps himself from you, positioning his hands on your hips and caresses your lower back. “Maybe we can go to the bedroom and I can fuck the frustration out of you.”

/

Hands are travelling up your sides to meet at the top of the zipper, pushing your locks over to one side. “Let me.” The slider glides down, parting the teeth and allows the dress to fall to the floor. He touches his lips on the curve of where your shoulder meets your arm; he’s planting kisses on your skin while eager fingers are unhooking the clasp on your bra.

By now you’re standing only in a small pair of underwear and the moment you turn around Michael snatches you up; hands digging into the flesh of your ass. He’s smirking in enjoyment, almost salivating at the thought of what next comes out.

“I was thinking about you in that pretty red dress of yours I like at work today. You’re innocently knocking files off my desk as you’re trying to place them in front of me like a clumsy little girl. You’re bending over to grab them but your feet are apart enough so everything is exposed…” he pulls you in even closer before continuing, lowly growing in thirst, “…and it’s obvious to see your slit is glistening for me; ready to be fucked.”

If you didn’t know you were alive before, you sure knew now because you feel your heart quicken and nostrils becoming flared as you expel out hot breaths of want. Those few words forced you into a state of submission - one where you’d do anything no questions asked.

Your mouths meet in what starts off as a slow, loving kiss but quickly transforms into a salacious mess; lips turning red, swollen, and spit covered. Both of you were becoming drunk on the other. He instructs you to get on the bed and you follow through without hesitation.

*

With eyes glued to him, you watch as he’s sitting on a chair nearby undoing his tie. You become occupied with the thought of how you’d rather them around your throat than loosening the item of fabric he now throws on the ground. Michael teases in the hopes it’ll set you off by warning not to get too excited because he’s staying dressed for what he has planned.

He was right to think that way because with his comment you transform into a brat, rolling your eyes and whining, “Can you not? You’re strangely looking like Duncan did earlier.”

Michael reaches down to untie his shoes and every now and then looks up at you and the only reaction to your words is a silent smile; one that said you just wait. Once his shoes are off, he walks over to the bed and towers above you, asserting you in dominance. He grabs your face in a hand and breaks his reticence, telling you, “I think you’re forgetting who makes the rules.”

In the blink of an eye, Michael has ripped off your underwear and runs a single finger up your slit to feel the slick leaking from your folds. You’re ignorant enough not to realise Michael wasn’t the only reason your body was behaving this way. He, however, does know and pushes your thighs apart to see what he’s dealing with. Tips of his digits are drawing shapes against your bud - you think he’s letting them wander aimlessly but Michael was actually spelling out the word Duncan.

“Duncan really makes you mad, doesn’t he?” Michael teases with words laminated in a devilish tone. He could see how you were visibly responding to him and it drove him wild. Michael noticed at the mention of Duncan’s name you did jerk your legs shut but there was a brief moment where you bucked your hips and Michael could read between the lines; he knew precisely what it meant, even before you did.

Forceful hands pry your legs apart as if to say I’m the one who is in charge and when he begins to touch you again, he changes it up and uses all four fingers. The blood rushes in between your legs, swirling around and causing tumescence in your loins.

“He makes you red hot, doesn’t he?” The deliverance of those two words made you wonder if he was insinuating something entirely different. Something that you’d never considered until now. Maybe your brain had kept this revelation hidden away until Michael decided to open your eyes to it. Maybe, just maybe, this was for your own benefit because there’s no way you would have willingly accepted your own want for him of all people.

Michael slips two of those four fingers inside, curling around and massaging your soft spot in a continuous but inviting come here movement. Not leaving any part ignored, he light grazes his thumb against the surface of your already stimulated bud and it makes you writhe around in pleasure. All attempts at trying to keep composed and innocent fail as your words become broken and you’re a stuttering mess, “W-w-what a-are yo-o-ou d-d-doing?”

Then suddenly, an unfamiliar feeling washes over you and you’re not sure if you like it but you have no choice because it’s consuming you; the want need for Duncan to be committing unspeakable acts against your body. Michael’s almost gagging over you coming undone from a few simple wo­rds and figures it’s the perfect time to take himself out of his pants knowing you’d be pathetic and desperate for a cock inside you.

*

The old adage goes “silence is golden” but this was the exact opposite. You needed something to stop you dissipating into the fever that was burning deep within your core. You wanted to snuff out the fire inside because you had absolutely no idea how you were going to work with this lingering.

Michael positions his body between your legs to stroke the head of his throbbing cock against your slit, mixing what was leaking out of himself with your own wetness. He takes it up a notch by sliding in a minuscule amount and taunting you, with words like you know, your body is giving me the answers your mouth wouldn’t dare speak.

His icy blues are locked onto you as he pushes past your entrance, gauging your reaction while giving you more of the thing you yearned for. Michael’s having too much fun being a tease but it becomes too much and you spit angst at him, “Can’t you just fuck me already?”

Michael provokes you even further and suggests, “If you want it so bad, why don’t you just behave and bend over the bed like a good girl. Bad girls don’t get what they want.”  He knew what being called a good girl did to you and used it to his full advantage whenever you were in a state like this.

You don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad that this exact situation was what Duncan had predicted at that party. Goosebumps hit your skin as you can hear him. “I can already see it now – one day you’ll be bent over a bed, pussy soaked with your own filth and you’ll be begging for him to fuck you when really you wish it was me.”

And that’s exactly what is happening. You were bent over and beginning to be fucked, like a cock-deprived slut. It was more than just your usual lust over Michael but it also included being wrecked and ruined by Duncan, and you hated yourself for it.

“If you really do want this, there’s only one thing I want in return.” Michael tells you, rubbing a hand over your ass, “I want you to tell me exactly why he’s so bad. I want you to feel it.”

“Duncan Shepherd is a sanctimonious, smug asshole. He thinks he’s a hot piece who can get whatever he wants whenever he wants. He-“

Your outburst is interrupted by Michael moving back inside. You’re wondering when he’s going to fuck the neediness out of you because he was deliberately holding back and moving very slowly. “Keep going. Remember, I want you to feel it.”

“He always thinks he can do whatever the fuck he wants and not get away with it. This is why I’m stuck with him, because of his actions, and now I have to see him every single day until this damn trial is over and done with.”

There it is, your distaste for him. You thought it was stronger than the urges that reverberated throughout your body. The truth is you wanted to fuck Duncan out of hatred, then make him watch as you fuck Michael out of adoration, and for both men to pour load after load into your open mouth; deep down your willing throat. You wanted to be defiled but only by your own control.

Michael’s hands are gripping into your thighs to say your body is mine and he picks up his pace. He grunts, “More. Tell me more. Feed it to me, baby.”

“He’s such a pig. He treats me like I should beg to be the ground he’s walking on. Remember his ex? She said he’s so vain that he likes to fuck in front of a mirror so he can watch himself.”

Your pussy twitches at the very clear image in your head of him pounding away at you like he did with her, almost as if it had happened in real life. Were you jealous? You couldn’t deny that Duncan was hot, because he was, but he knew it. You also knew that he’d be good in bed despite the disgusting ego. The thoughts of being used and abused by a man like this, specifically Duncan, drove you mad in every way possible.

“Do you ever think it’s because he wants to fuck you?”

That slight twitch turns into a full-on throb and every muscle within the confines of your cunt begin to tighten around Michael’s cock – your body growing unfaithful with its admission of the things you were trying to remain tight-lipped about. It’s one thing to find someone attractive but it’s another entirely for it to be someone you’ve spent years loathing. Duncan was everything you couldn’t stand in a man yet your entire existence was begging to be destroyed by him.

“My bet is he’d like to turn you into an incoherent mess. His hand is probably lathered in fake slick right now and he’s fucking himself to the thought of you in the dress you wore today.”

Your knees were growing weak and you were barely holding on. You being sent in a direction you’d never been before. Before tonight, Michael was the only thought and person which brought you pleasure in all the ways. The truth was that Michael wanted you to feel this. He secretly had lusted after this for so long and now he finally got his chance.

And that’s when it came. The words that would tear you in two, causing the same reaction in your body akin to a dam bursting its banks.

“I can guarantee that Duncan would love to be here right now, seeing your pussy full with this cock and us taking turns on you all night, filling every hole.”

Michael was the filthiest and there was no doubt about that but it’s as if the events of tonight had given you a key to a hidden lock inside him – you opened it and it unleashed something wild and untamed. His mouth and his member cause you to explode as if you’re a supernova; stars littering your vision as evidence of the intensity.

A lustful growl emits from Michael’s lungs as you drop to the mattress, knees weakened completely. “I knew exactly what that meant.”

It seems like your climax transforms him into some other being. He begins pounding away at you mercilessly, throwing caution into the wind and slamming his body into yours like he was trying to punish you for thinking such dirty thoughts.

Michael’s positioned now with his torso against your back, taking in your mixed scent of perfume and sweat. He thrusts a few more times and you both cry out in enjoyment – you’re still swimming in the pool of your orgasm and he meets you there, unloading himself inside your pussy. Once the last drop is spilt he rolls off your body and onto his back.

He breathlessly throws an idea at you, “Maybe we should make our own game, Y/N. Duncan Shepherd needs to atone for his sins of the flesh. You should play with him, make him bend to you however you see fit, and, when the time is right then we can take it even further. There are only two rules.”

“Which are?”

“Number one, have fun. Number two, fill me in on everything. Also, remember, it’s Duncan.”

You knew what it’s Duncan meant because you knew Michael all too well. It meant don’t worry, nobody is going to believe someone as manipulative as him if he tries anything.

You didn’t care. Your impulses took over and you agreed to his game, asking when you were to start.

“Tomorrow.”

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sacredlangdon @sammythankyou @sevenwondr @langdonsdemon @queencocoakimmie

[digitalnoms]

The hunger of Digivalution

Cybersleuth au

Chris didn’t quite know how they ended up in this situation, stuck behind a firewall in an area filled with hackers and a program forcibly downloaded to their device that made them a hacker too, their 4’9 shaking as they freak out, they knew the only way they would get out of Kowloon is if they went forward, going forward risked encountering hostile hackers, but staying where they were also had a chance of encountering said hackers, Maybe they shouldn’t have taken that invitation they were given but they had no choice now, they had to get out of here so they took a deep breath and started following the path.

In another part of Kowloon an Impmon had appeared, he knew how he got here but felt like he was supposed to be bigger than the 3ft he was, he had a purpose for coming here but he just couldn’t seem to remember anything except where he came from and what he is now, for now he decided to sneak around while he tried to gather information on where he was and remember why he came here. Then he smelt something sweet, he became curious to where the scent was coming from and followed it.

The sweet smell had led him to find a nervous human who looked like they were about to jump out of their skin as they wandered about, they hadn’t noticed him yet, so he hit in the shadows and used the opportunity to have some fun by spooking them, he follow them around and would chuck a fireball near them when they would stop to check the area around them making the human jump and yelp making Impmon snicker.

Then another foul-smelling human appeared, when sweet smelling one and started talking about handing over an account and threatening the sweet smelling one Impmon had start to like with the way they reacted to having fireballs tossed at them, so Impmon tossed a fireball at him and set the seat of his pants on fire and snickered as the foul ones started trying to put himself out, the sweet one took the a chance while the foul one was distracted to try and leave, the foul one noticed though had the koromon he had following him go after the human in an attempt to draw his attacker out.

Chris was frightened, before someone kept sending fire balls at them that would startle them and make them shriek, they weren’t actually hurt by that though it just made them jump and as long as whoever was doing that wasn’t actually trying to hit them, Chris really didn’t feel the need to complain, but now there was a hacker threatening them and they had no idea what to do.

Luckily whoever it was startling them before decided this hacker was a better target and set his butt on fire, while he was jumping about trying to smother the flame Chris tried to run, he noticed though and sent that creature that was following him after them and Chris was cornered once again, the hacker told it to attack and as it was about to attack them a purple creature came out of nowhere and kicked it into a wall knocking it unconscious.

The hacker looked very nervous when the purple creature suddenly had a fireball floating over its fingertip and was aiming at him, the hacker grabbed the unconscious creature and dashed away, The purple creature scoffed then yelled after him “Yeah, you better run you wimp!”

Impmon dusted his hand off and smirked, it felt good to win. He was about to leave when he heard something behind him, it was then he remembered the human he had just rescued, “um, I uh, thank you for saving me.” the human said Impmon scoffed and looked to the side “wasn’t that much of a threat.” the human came closer to him “maybe not to you but they really could have hurt me. So, thank you, you were so cool.” Impmon started to feel a bit flustered he might not remember anything, but he feels like no one had ever complemented him before, maybe he could hang around this human for a while, it probably wouldn’t hurt he thought they smell nice too so that would be a bonus. Then he turned to them acting cocky “you obviously can’t handle yourself here so I might as hang around to help you.”

Chris smiled at the creature that saved them, “thank you.”  they honestly meant it they were extremely grateful this creature had come to help, despite the fact Chris was quite sure it had been to one messing with them earlier, “i have some questions though, what are you and what was that creature the hacker tried to attack me with?” The purple creature looked a little stunned for a second but shook it off and replied “Digimon, the one was that was attacking you was a wimpy in-training called koromon, while I,” the purple creature takes a proud stance “am a powerful Rookie called Impmon”  

“it’s nice to meet you Impmon, my name is Chris.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Timeskip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been three months since Impmon and Chris had met and he is no longer an Impmon, now as an impressive 12ft tall Skullmeramon he towers over his tamer and most of the other digimon on their team, when they travel together, he lets his tamer perch on his shoulder and his temperament and affinity for fire has caused his tamer to give him the nicknames Sparks but for some reason they had found him unable to Digivolve any further while the other digimon on their team have already devolved to mega he seemed to be stuck as an ultimate.

For the past few days Sparks has felt an intense hunger that never seemed to be satisfied by the increasing amount of food he ate or the amount of battles he fought, his tamer seemed to have noticed and confronted him Chris had asked him in a worried tone if he was doing okay, why he was eating so much now, and he had paused in his feast to answer them

“I don’t know, I just started feeling hungrier and hungrier and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop.” Sparks said, Chris crossed their arms and place a hand on their chin in deep thought “maybe you’re getting closer to being able to digivolve to mega, I remember that Striker got extremely hungry before he digivolved from Cyberdramon to Justimon.” Sparks chuckles “he whined about it too and now he runs around and dramatically poses in the wind. You might be onto something there, Chris.”

The Skullmeramon couldn’t help but notice his tamer’s scent and his stomach growled loudly. Chris jumped at the sudden rumble it’s volume as loud as thunder then laughs. “I better let you get back to your meal before your stomach eats itself.” then Chris leaves back to human world, Sparks notices that as their scent disappears his hunger lessens and wonders if eating them would stop the hunger, but he wouldn’t want to hurt them, he knows they put up with his sometimes-sadistic behavior and he feels conflicted about it but Sparks realizes he might not be able to control those predator instincts much longer, all he can really do it try and make sure he doesn’t physically harm Chris when he loses control. Perhaps if he digivolves he might even recall why he came here, he feels as if he can almost remember.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Timeskip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later the Skullmeramon and his tamer are caught up in a battle with a Metalseadramon it’s River of Power attack blasting him backwards, his tamer shouting encouragement, even though he’s worse for wear they still believe he can win, and when his opponent means to take aim at the small human Sparks feels something click “Skullmeramon digivolve to Beelzemon!!”

He nearly doubles in size and at an intimidating 26ft all it takes is a single shot from one of his Berenjena to take the Mega down, Chris steps back in awe of his size and all they can say is “whoa.” which causes the towering digimon to look down at them and Chris doesn’t see any recognition in his eyes, only hunger as the demon lord digimon scoops them up in his hand and they feel the metal tips of his clawed gloves brush the top of their shoulders as his fingers curl forcing them to be seated on the edge of his palm their legs dangling near his wrist and a sense of dread overcomes them.

He and his tamer stare at each other for a second before a sharp wicked grin spreads on his face and Chris asks in a shaky voice “Sparks?” he doen’t respond, instead he raises them a bit higher, opens his mouth wide and he tips his hand slipping their legs into his mouth then swallows dragging them further in as they start to panic feeling their legs gripped tight in his throat.  

He ignores their fright, grips them a bit more firmly before tilting his head back and swallowing again drawing them the rest of the way into his maw and snapping it shut around them, he grins again feeling Chris tries futilely to push themselves back up their alarmed “Nonononono.” does nothing to sway him as their palms are slipping unable to get a grip and with a loud gulp, he sends them downwards as they panic and shout “Please don’t!”

They struggle as they are dragged downward, the muscles squeezing around their form and they let out a whine, hearing a thudding heart beat and powerful lungs as the Beelzemon breathes pass them as they slip deeper down. He licks his lips savoring his tamers movement and flavor as the thought goes through his head that he was right, they do taste as good as they smell.

After what feels like hours of being pulled by hot slick muscles, they finally drop into his stomach, Beelzemon lets out a pleased sigh as they start to beat against his stomach walls, “Sparks!” they shout and this time he responds his voice booming around them, “My name is Beelzemon.” he presses his hand against the bulge that’s the only sign of where the tamer went, squishing them against the flesh walls that surround them “And you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” He explains that digivolving into mega unlocked his memories.

That he came here to snub the royal knights and their plans but lost his memories and reverted to rookie form in the process, then a little while after he digivolved to Skullmeramon his hunger reawakened and things started to come back little by little, his tamer confused and worried about the situation they are in asks him a single question “but why did you eat me?” Beelzemon bursts out laughing and the tamer is rocked off their feet, their back hitting the stomach floor with a wet splat.

“Why did I eat you? The scent you give off is too hard to resist, it’s what drew me to you in the first place.” his tamer responds their voice breaking “so our bond was nothing then? You were just waiting till you didn’t need me anymore to eat me, right?” Beelzemon’s grin drops from his face realizing what he has said has hurt his tamer “No, I...I grew attached, I like you too much for you to be just another meal for me. Wouldn’t want to hurt you like that.” he feels his tamer shift. “then that means I'm safe?” the ask timidly.

Beelzemon nods before realizing they wouldn't be able to see that and replied “yeah, you’ll be fine. Still not letting you out for a while though.” His tamer relaxes “You’re an asshole sometimes Beelzemon.”  He chuckles “sure am, but you knew that when you met me.”  

Chris still a bit wary asks “what are they royal knights planning anyway?” Beelzemon scoffs “not anything I’d let them do to you.” his tamer jerks “what is that supposed to mean?” He grins as he replies knowing he is succeeding in working his tamer up again “nothing you need to worry about.” they start struggling again yelling at him to stop being vague and tell them what he meant as he sits down leaning against the wall of the area they are in, too deep for anyone to find them and falls asleep with his hand still over his stomach.

[mutemwija]

Pridecember Day 24: Christmas/Believe

In which the dueling is done with sleighs pulled by a three-headed dragon and a thousand Kuribohs...

(This was actually written for last year’s Pridecember Prompt “Christmas” but since it fits this year’s prompt as well, I decided to post it here as well 🎅🌟)

Thanks to @siosiri so keeping me motivated enough to write it! 😘💕

I wish you all a very merry Christmas! 💝🎅

The ice-cold wind whipped around his face, stinging tears blurred his vision and his freezing hands gripped the reins frantically.

He needed to be faster than the wind, faster than the sun coming up before him. If he didn’t make it in time it would all be over. Life as he knew it would seize to exist.

It wasn’t usually like this in the night of the nights, the night he prepared a whole year for. Usually he had enough time to attend every child, to tend to them, even just a small moment. It was the best part of his existence – the waiting children, their from excitement and curiosity wide eyes as they sat with their families or stared out of the window to get a glimpse at him as he flew over them.

But not this year.

This year, the main clock that stopped the time for as long as he flew around earth, delivering presents, magic and hope had suddenly, without any prior warning sign simply resumed ticking.

And thanks to that fact there was barely time to take a breath – or a cookie for that matter. It was just aiming, striking, next and again aiming, striking. One shot off target, one second of hesitation and the plan would fail.

The only advantage was that people might mistake him for a shooting star if he dashed over the sky like that and he preferred to be mistaken for a dying star than for an UFO (which had happened before).

It was unsettling him greatly though. Never, in all those centuries he existed and did this job had the clock ever failed him – it was bound to his magic and the spell was technically impossible to break.

Now, someone had apparently found a way and he did have a very good idea of who that someone was.

He’d definitely need a very hot bath and a very hot chocolate with double caramel flavor when he got home today. If he came home unseen and impeccable as it should be and only after he’d given his new assistant a talking-to.

He was the only one he thought capable of breaking the spell of the main clock…

What was this mad man thinking? Manipulating the procedure like that?

How in the name of St. Nicholas had he even accomplished that?

Atem had many assistants over the centuries, some respectable, some ambitious, some idle, one even just a little bit too child-friendly but none of them could ever enrage, goad and fascinate him the way Seto Kaiba did.

Prideful, arrogant, bossy, gruff, infatu… no infuriating and aloof to name just a few of his dominant traits. He paced around North Pole as if he owned the place, not Atem, as if he had built it all and organized the most important night for thousands of years now, not Atem. And of course he was seeing improvements every where he looked. On more than enough opportunities he had to keep him and Mahad from kicking each other’s hands in, only to continue to argue with him himself. Granted, he was right with his suggestions from time to time but you just didn’t change century old traditions in a heartbeat.

On top of that the guy was ridiculously tall. It was a real pain in the neck that he had to look up at him all the time – literally.

But these eyes were the worst. These deep, expressive eyes, blue as the dusky night sky and clear as the ice surrounding them. He’d only barely kept himself from gasping when he’d stepped into the hall this morning, with his blue coat and white fur, looking like a very young, very handsome version of Father Frost.

He was like the forbidden fruit – ensuring misery but too appealing to resist.

And now he’d actually managed to turn Christmas Eve into a life and death race.

Atem was furious.

Partly because of the manipulated procedure, mostly because right now Seto with his monstrous dragon was in the damn lead.

Of course this wasn’t a race to determine the winner but a race to escape their discovery.

Still that didn’t mean that Atem didn’t want to win.

It was all very confusing.

He couldn’t recall the last time he had been racing the sky as fast as that, the last time he had felt so incredibly free. By now, the frosty wind burnt in his lungs, forced the tears horizontally out of his eyes and he was sure he’d lose one or two fingers if it continued like that any longer – and if the situation had been a different one he’d be crowing but now he needed to concentrate.  

When and particularly how Seto had managed to fuse his three dragons into one, Atem had no clue. The whole flight over Canada it had been three but when their paths crossed again over Russia it was just one, but with three heads. With Mahad’s help he had been able to multiply his guardian Kuriboh into a number so large, the little balls were darkening the sky before they merged them into one giant body.

The presents were spread over Scandinavia in the blink of an eye and after that all that was left was the racing duel home.

Atem glanced at his side, suppressed a smirk and set spurs so hard he was sure he’d hurt Kuriboh. He would apologize later, now he needed to get home first.

Before the sun rose, needless to say.

If only to soothe his consciousness.

The dragon’s enormous wings cut through the air beside him but Atem kept his eyes straight ahead. If he got distracted now he would definitely loose (against the sun) and he simply didn’t want that. Seto’s ego was already bursting, he didn’t need another boost.  

Gritting his teeth until they gave a cracking sound, Atem mustered the last magic he had in his body, transferred it to Kuriboh and slipped through the barrier around North Pole only by a hairsbreadth earlier than Seto’s dragons.

He heard him curse behind him but ignored the triumphant feeling inside him and concentrated on slowing the sleigh down and landing it safely.

The giddy sense of delight he’d felt in the last minutes vanished the moment the skids touched the ground and all that was left was anger and horror that Seto had dared to touch the main clock and risked not only their exposure but also and furthermost the spoiling of Christmas Eve for generations and decades!  

Seto’s sleigh was still sliding to a halt but Atem had already walked, no stomped over to him, grabbed the reins of this exaggerated, gorgeous beast and pulled harshly at it. “Are you completely mad?”

Slowly and with his head held as high as his loss obviously let him, Seto stepped out of the sleigh. He was completely unperturbed by Atem’s rage and took his hat off with a peace of mind that brought Atem even more to the edge. If he weren’t so tall, he’d probably slam him into the sleigh right here and there but instead had to crane his neck again while Seto towered over him as tall and as proud as ever. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Feign your innocence somewhere else, Seto! The main clock has never failed me until this day and you’re the only one besides me who knows how enough to sabotage it.”

Blue clad shoulders simply shrugged. “So what if I did?! We made it, didn’t we?”

“But at what cost!” Atem gestured to the still dissolving, hard breathing and kind of pale looking Kuriboh’s. He had never summoned so many of them and if it wasn’t for Mahad’s extra magic, he wasn’t sure if he’d even managed it. The poor little fluff balls were completely exhausted while Seto’s dragons still roared majestically, standing their ground as proudly as their wielder.

“I really don’t know why you’re so angry.” Seto grumbled, his blue eyes now flashing with anger as well and Atem watched closely as he forced the next words over his lips. “You won. You should be happy.”

Atem groaned exaggerated.

Again with this stupid rivalry.

“I told you so many times that this evening, this job isn’t about being best, or being first, it’s about the children. It’s about bringing them happiness. It’s about faith and hope, peace and love. It’s a magical night, where anything can and shall happen.”

“Then why are we stopping the time and hide until it’s all over?”

“We’re not hiding, we’re surprising them. Secretly.”

“It’s not a secret when they all know it’s coming.”

“That’s not the point…”

“What is it then? So many children are looking out of their windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of you – how can you say this night is about them, when you don’t even give them a chance to achieve their wish?”

Atem swallowed thickly, hoping Seto wouldn’t notice.

“It’s just a race against time if we don’t at least slow time down! You saw for yourself how we had to rush because of it. What if something had gone wrong and we’d have had to make a detour…”

“It would have only increased the suspense.”

“And then?”

“Why not make them aware of the magic around them!”

“Because they could have seen us!”

“So what? Seeing is believing. You’ve been hiding for all these centuries and still expect children to believe in you starry-eyed because their parents told them to, because it’s what kids do? What if one day they stop? What, if you fade into the dust you were made of then? Is this what you want? You have to give them something to hold onto, something to grasp, a proof, not just an old as the hills, outdated fairytale. Your life depends on their believe!”

Atem narrowed his eyes. “So, you disobey my order because you’re worried about me?”

Seto ignored the sentiment but lowered his voice and glance nonetheless. “I did not disobey your order. On the contrary, I carried your… our task out and mastered it superbly. You know, I did.”

“What did you want then?” He asked tentatively, seeing no reason to question Seto’s work today. It was superb, just like he said (overlooking the manipulating of the main clock of course…) and watched his every movement, the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his side, how his jaw tensed and the reflexive blinking of his eyes as if he dared him to speak his mind. And Atem read him like an open book. “My appreciation… was it that?”

Seto said nothing, just stared at him, stared down at him defying, challenging, outraged that Atem had hit the nail on the head in his very first try.

The smaller man could only sigh. “You don’t need that.”

For just a split second disappointment flashed in Seto’s eyes but it was gone in such a quick way that Atem thought it was just a figment of his imagination and it got replaced with something akin to wrath. “Good to know.”

He was about to push past him, but Atem grabbed his forearm and stopped him, speaking gently and steady.

“You don’t need it because you already have it! Why did you think I chose you as my assistant? Just because I wanted someone to lecture and scream at from dusk till dawn?” He gave a short dismissive laugh, but actually it was partly true since he enjoyed their tiffs and arguments and the wretched fact was that he even found him, it, (damn it it, get a grip Atem!) hugely appealing. “I gave you the job because you have so much potential. You’re a real talent, Seto. In all these years, I haven’t seen anyone as studious and hardworking and thoroughly devoted to this task as you. And you take pride in everything you do and you’re absolutely sure of yourself… Just why are you striving for my appraisal so much when your self-esteem is higher than anything I’ve ever known?”

Blue colored eyes lay calmly on him belying the storm that raged behind them.

Because I admire you his mind screamed but his mouth formed the words “Because you’re the boss and everyone should strive to gain a better position than the one they already have.” instead.

Atem gave the dry, small laugh Seto always longed to hear when they argued. “I feel like I should be worried about my job…”

Seto shrugged as he stared unblinkingly at him. He could feel the cold of his fingers seeping through his thick coat and the wind-induced tears had left smeared traces at his eyes. A small part of him acknowledged this as his fault but since he had won he wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of caring enough to worry.

When Atem finally let go of his arm, he shoved his hands into his pockets and took a small step away from Seto, his eyes not once leaving his. “I admit it was fun to race across the sky like that. Actually I haven’t done that in ages; it made me feel like a whippersnapper…” He grinned, the use of this word made him feel ancient despite the fact that he didn’t age at all. “But we can’t turn Christmas day into a duel against time. We will work side by side. Are you content with that?”

The fact that he asked, made it seem like he really wanted Seto here, at his side but he wouldn’t believe him so easily and straightened his back. “We’ll see about that.”

Atem opened his mouth to protest but suddenly didn’t feel like arguing anymore.

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose so…”

He’d said what he could say, maybe not what he wanted to say, but it was better than nothing, right? It was a start. And despite the look of it now, he was sure Seto would understand sooner or later. After all, he couldn’t blame him for trying to proof himself to him. Even if his methods were a little extreme.

“Anyway, we’ve done our work for the night. Take care of your dragons, get some rest and… take a look at the joy you brought.” The last part was uttered warily since he very much hoped Seto would join him to see how the children reacted to their presents (and the left-behind sweets and drinks) but wasn’t sure if his pride allowed it. He met his gaze once more, smiled gently and nodded once. “You’re dismissed.”

Atem waited for any sign of reaction but Seto just gave a small nod himself and with a heavy sigh, he turned around and walked away slowly.

But really he wanted nothing more than to stay where he was and look at Seto some more.

Groaning inwardly at his own thoughts, he clenched his hands in his pockets.

Why was he being so stupid? They should have a professional relationship, nothing more, nothing less. He knew it and he should act like it.

But damn, it was getting harder each day.

“Actually…” Seto called out and Atem’s heart as well as his footsteps stopped but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t trust himself enough for that at the moment. A moment of silence went by and he thought Seto had changed his mind when he spoke up again. “There’s one present left.”

That sentence brought Atem back from his sentimental feelings at once and reality hit him in the face colder and harsher than the wind in the sky before.

Forgetting a present was a thousandfold worse than the damaged main clock – it meant, somewhere out there was a child waiting and hoping in vain, it meant that he failed, when he was supposed to be unfailing and perfect.

Upon returning, he’d already activated his inner compass and tracking magic to find out just where he had to lead Kuriboh but stopped deadly in his track when his eyes fell on Seto again.

The present that was left, lied in his hand – a small, neatly in purple and gold wrapped package with a ribbon on top. Atem immediately recognized that it wasn’t from his factory, that it was individual and hand-wrapped and his eyes went wide.

“A happy Christmas to you.”

His mouth dropped slightly open and a shudder ran down his spine as Seto handed him the gift, his gift and Atem looked between the package and his assistant as if he expected one or the other to disappear in a cloud of smoke in the next second.

In all these years no one had ever given him a present – occasionally Mahad had given him a bottle of glogg at the end of the year but that was all. And why would anyone give him a present in the first place? It was supposed to be the other way round after all. Delivering presents was the reason for, the sole purpose of his existence.

He’d known from the moment he first laid eyes on him that Seto didn’t give a damn about traditions and rules at all and he had proven as much well enough already but this… this took things to a whole new level.

This showed him that his talent was exceptional and that he should indeed fear for his job but all he felt right now was pride and pure, unbridled joy.

Impatience and nervousness were starting to crawl up in Seto’s mind when Atem just stared at his gift instead of opening it and he stepped from one foot to another, clearing his throat softly. That had Atem looking up at him and he lifted his eyebrows, telling him to hurry up. It was obvious that the man was astonished, perhaps even flattered but that was no excuse to turn into stone.

Finally, Atem laughed apologetically and Seto watched him closely as he unwrapped the package slowly and carefully, obviously enjoying every second of it. Seto could tell from the bright gleam in his eyes that the other was dying from excitement and struggled to maintain his dignity like that, cold, red fingers trembling slightly as they fumbled with the ribbon.

Atem gave the smallest gasp when the paper was finally gone and it was all Seto needed to know that he hit the nail on the head. He noticed him swallow again before he slowly looked up to him and Seto hold his breath.

“I… Where did you…?” Atem stammered, wondering how Seto even knew he’d always wanted to have one of these, he’s never spoken of it to anyone. A small, reasonable part of him hoped it was just a lucky coincidence but he knew that couldn’t be because Santa always chose the right gift. It was the essence of his being.

He cleared his throat to steady his voice but he still sounded a little off. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Seto nodded as if he wanted to say that he already knew that but his eyes had taken on a gentler glow and his smile was a relieved one. As much as Atem liked that look on his face though, he suddenly felt so guilty that he hadn’t thought of getting him something as well.

One of Seto’s dragons roared softly, breaking the spell between them and as Atem watched him caress the shimmering scales of his guardian, he came up with an idea that had his blood boiling already.    

“You know… maybe we could race again some time? Not… on Christmas Eve of all days but the year does have 364 other days, so…”

The smirk Kaiba shot him after these words hit him right in his core. “Prepare to lose.” He deadpanned with a low voice that Atem hadn’t heard him use until now and he shuddered again, this time from excitement.

He laughed to mask it and then smirked at Seto, throwing his words right back at him. “We’ll see about that.”

With that he turned on his heels and strutted away proudly, Seto’s gift safely enclosed in his hands, cold and exertion completely forgotten.

Seto watched him go and allowed himself to look at the other for a moment more before turning away too. He was glad it had worked out that well. Sure, it wasn’t the triumph he initially wanted but another, more amicable, sweeter kind of success. One he appreciated just the same.

And when he turned around once more to get a last look at his retrieving figure, he got the feeling that this was what Atem was talking about the whole time when he lectured him about dreams and hopes and the spirit of Christmas.

This was a magical night, where anything could and should happen.

[stormkpr]

New fic - draft

Working title: Reader, I Loved Him

Fandom: The 100 

Setting: Pre-season 1, on the Ark. Several months before Monty and Jasper get arrested.

Rating: Mature

Warning: This fic will feature two young men who are not yet 18 being intimate with each other. If that is not your thing, then please don’t read!

Summary: This is either a smutty romance fic, or a romantic smutfic. It’s a glimpse of when Jasper and Monty went from being friends to lovers.

Just a draft- fic will eventually be posed on A03... 

*** 

Chapter One

 Monty’s heart pounded as he sat in this morning’s math class. He forced himself to take a few steadying breaths and tried to avoid glancing where Jasper perched on the other end of the room. This teacher had insisted from day one that they sit as far apart from each other as possible. Monty and Jasper’s reputation had preceded them, and the teacher knew well to separate the two boys.

 On this morning, Jasper had arrived late to class, rushing in, his hair askew and clothing rumpled. That in and of itself was not unusual. Jasper was often tardy and unkempt. But last night had been, well, monumental.

 Monty took another breath and silently spoke to himself. ‘It was monumental for you, Monty. Maybe not for him.’

 And that was what made his throat stick. Last night had been everything for Monty. But what had it meant to Jasper?

 They had been fooling around regularly, of course. It had been going on for so long that Monty couldn’t remember when they had first started. He knew it must’ve been inside Jasper’s room, as his was bigger than Monty’s closet-sized sleeping space and they had spent many nights there before – often with Monty sleeping on Jasper’s bed and Jasper on a cot that his mother would bring in. He recalled well that it had started with standard things like jerking off together, probably something that other guys who were close friends did with each other all the time too, Monty assumed. Somewhere over the years they had changed it up by jerking each other off, and it had been casually thrilling for Monty to feel Jasper’s dick in his hands and bring him to orgasm. Somewhere else along the line they had started removing more of their clothing during these sessions. Sometimes they talked during it, Monty perhaps asking Jasper what he was thinking of, and Jasper answering ‘that hot girl at the masquerade ball last night’. Monty trying not to frown, wishing Jasper’s answer had been different. And if they had it, weed might be smoked before or afterwards – but that was never a prerequisite.

 This morning in math class, however, Monty didn’t need to be reminded that last night it had gone, far, far further than ever before. And truth be told, Monty had planned it all out.

 Because what they had been doing no longer was enough for him. He loved Jasper, pure and simple. He needed to touch him, to brush Jasper’s thick lips with his own. He wanted his tongue against Jasper’s own, and he needed to have his hands all over Jasper’s body, not just around his dick. He wanted to run his fingers through Jasper’s hair, he wanted to nuzzle him, he wanted to sleep curled up to him. He wanted to – someday, somehow – tell him how he felt.

 Monty again took a deep breath as his reverie and his desires were already on a runaway train. He had no idea what the teacher was talking about now, and he hoped he looked like he was paying attention.

 Knowing that he had wanted more, Monty had done his research before last night. Society on board the Ark had its flaws, but lack of communication about sex wasn’t one of them. Monty studied reading material on the subject thoroughly. Sure, he already knew what two men could do together in bed – everyone knew that, come on – but he hadn’t known the mechanics of how to make it actually work. “Sex is never as easy or carefree as some people make it out to be, son,” his dad had once told him during one of their talks on the subject. Monty had always had a mind for engineering, so he studied the mechanics of how they could expand their sexual repertoire. He tried to think through how he could take Jasper’s penis inside his mouth without gagging. He had found a cylindrical object in the lab his parents worked in, and had practiced on it just to get used to the sensation of having something in that general shape inside his mouth.

 The kissing part would be harder, he had reminded himself. Not harder physically but much harder emotionally. Before last night, he had agonized – what to do if Jasper rejected a kiss? What if Jasper had no desire to cuddle together or touch their tongues together?

 Monty knew that Jasper loved him as a friend; that was not in doubt. (When Monty had been sick last year, Jasper had hardly left his bedside). He knew that Jasper enjoyed their….bedtime rituals. (As soon as Monty had recovered from that sickness, Jasper had unabashedly asked, “You well enough to sleep in my room now?” and then their usual festivities had resumed) But that didn’t mean that Jasper would welcome kisses, caresses, or anything sexual beyond what they had already been doing.

 But still, Monty was braver than anyone gave him credit for. So last night he had taken the plunge.

 “Monty Green!” the teacher admonished. “Have you lost your hearing?”

 Monty’s reverie ended with a jolt. All eyes inside the classroom were now upon him and this time, he could not resist turning his head and locking eyes with Jasper for a split second. Another jolt. What did that look on Jasper’s face mean? Jasper’s eyes were wide. They had been wide for much of last night too….

 “Answer the question,” the teacher insisted.

 “I-I’m so sorry. I was daydreaming,” Monty managed. His cheeks were warm.

 A few classmates giggled and one of them muttered ‘star pupil, right.’

 “Alright. I will give you a pass this time. But I expect you to pay attention from here on out,” the teacher said.

 After an interminable wait, class was over. Monty sat frozen. He and Jasper usually walked together to their next classroom. What would happen today? Should he get up now? Could he even get up now? His shoes seemed melded to the ground.

 Suddenly, Jasper was there beside him. It was one of those moments where time seemed to both freeze and to move in the blink of an eye. Jasper was bending down and whispering in Monty’s ear.

 “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”