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bunnakit · 1 year ago

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Hold Me (Like a Knife) Preview

my changun fic finally broke 3k words and i finished what i kinda consider the first act so here's what i've got so far, enjoy (or don't idk your life or preferences)

Chan swallows his nerves and his guilt as he approaches the compound. The guards nod, some even give him a small wave, as he passes through the halls. He keeps up the pretense of propriety; there are expectations for a main family guard and he means to uphold them. He’s still fairly new, only finished his training a year ago, and he tries his best to keep from stepping out of line. There’s just one vice he can’t resist.

He stops in front of the vibrant green door, shaking his head with a small smile at the gaudy color. His knuckle has barely tapped the wood twice before he hears an answering call.

“Come in.”

He shares a look with the guard posted outside who offers the smallest shake of his head in response to Chan’s lifted brow. A bad day then. That's fine, Chan is good at calming Gun’s ire and keeping him distracted.

He slips into the room quickly, shutting and locking the door behind him with a soft ‘click!’ that draws Gun’s gaze just the way he had hoped. He has that little wrinkle between his brow and his face is set into the scowl he makes when he’s ruminating over something that will inevitably piss him off. Chan takes a few large strides and sits in the armchair across from Gun’s. He doesn’t reach out to touch him, knows it wouldn’t be appreciated, so he sits with one leg crossed over the other and hands folded in his lap patiently.

“I thought you couldn’t get away.” Gun gestures with his chin towards the pager sitting at the corner of the coffee table.

“Khun Korn allowed me the rest of the evening off after a successful mission last night,” He explains, watching Gun’s jaw tick before his tongue rolls around in front of his teeth. If he’d had any doubts on what had soured Gun’s mood they were all now laid to rest.

“How generous of him.” Gun practically spits the words with all the venom in his body and Chan closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this again, doesn’t want their little time alone soured by a war of attrition between brothers and blood rights. He knows things aren’t easy for Gun, he’s had to fight tooth and nail for every scrap of success he could eke out from under his brother, and Chan’s guilt grows each time his loyalty teeters perfectly in the center.

He remembers their conversation a year and a month ago, sat under the dim lights of a noodle shop at three in the morning.

Chan’s knuckles were bruised, a cut bisected his lips, and there was a distinct imprint of a boot outlined against his dark shirt. He pressed the frosty glass of beer to his cheek which was already swollen and mottled a rainbow of different colors. He glanced up as Gun returned from the pay phone outside, hating the concern he saw in his eyes.

“Don’t start.” He mumbled, lowering his glass to take a long drink before licking away the foam on his upper lip. Gun made a soft ‘tch’ sound as he sat back down, drinking his own beer and digging into the steaming bowl of noodles that had arrived in his absence.

“You can’t keep doing this shit, Chan. I think it’s time to consider my offer.” Gun gave him a pointed look before diving into his food.

Chan lifted his glass to his cheek again, watching the broth of his soup cool and separate. He watched the little globules of fat dance around on the surface before heaving a large sigh that irritated his bruised ribs.

“Fine.” He knew he sounded defeated but there really wasn’t any other way around it. If he continued fighting his brother’s debtors like this he’d end up dead in an alleyway somewhere. Who would miss him, anyway? He had no one left that would even know he was gone – no one except for Gun.

“Good. I’ll pick you up in a few days and we can get you settled in at the compound.” Gun had that pleased little upturn to the corner of his lip and suddenly Chan couldn’t remember why he’d been fighting this all so hard.

But Khun Korn had ruined that as well. Chan had been cornered the very next day and made an offer to join the latest batch of recruits for the main family. He hadn’t been in a position to decline if the gun held by the head of the guards was any indication. Gun had been apoplectic, storming the halls of the tower with teeth bared and accusations loaded. Chan hadn’t been there for it, but he’d heard the rumors and seen the way the other guards looked at him.

All his free time had then been monopolized by Khun Korn and the rigorous training planned for the new recruits. He’d excelled at firearms training but struggled with escaping his bonds underwater. His only skills were what he had learned in back alley brawls and schoolyard tousles, far removed from the ex-military and gang-born men that had been around him.

He blinks back into the present, watching as Gun anxiously rubs at his outgrown stubble and tosses a stack of papers onto the table. Chan decides to rise from his chair, feeling Gun’s eyes on him the entire way to the drink cart where he pours them each a few fingers of whiskey – the good stuff.

“He was pretty upset you managed to solidify that drug deal with the Italians.” It wasn’t leaking information if it was obvious, merely an olive branch. It is worth it when he hands Gun a drink and watches his lips curl into a smile.

“Come here.” He stops when Gun gently tugs at his wrist and guides him to sit beside him on the sofa. Little moments like this have a way of bringing a flutter to his chest and relaxing all his bones. He misses his best friend in the tower, misses these scarce days when they can shed their roles and settle back into what they were before they became entangled in the dichotomy of the major and minor families.

They clink their glasses and each takes a sip before settling against the cushions at the back of the couch. Gun’s hand falls to rest on his thigh and Chan hides a smile behind the rim of his glass at the sensation. It’s grounding; draws him back to the now, and pushes away his guilt and his worries.

He turns his head just in time to feel Gun’s lips press against his, his stubble scraping against the corners and the hand on his thigh tightening its grip until it almost feels like he’s extracting the tendon from his flesh. Kissing Gun is something like pouring gasoline on a house fire; explosive, volatile, untamed. He wishes he wouldn’t get swept away in it each time he feels the flames lick up the walls of his ribcage. He doesn’t think a tidal wave could cool the burning longing in his chest.

It’s sweet agony when Gun shoves him backward onto the sofa, glass tumbling from his hand and rolling across the floor. He can't remember if it had been empty but he knows he doesn’t care as Gun’s hands spread the flames across his hips, his waist, and his chest; fisting the lapel of his coat and almost tearing it from his shoulders. His arms are caught behind his back, chest forward and shoulders straining as his mind flickers back to hours of training to escape his bonds. He feels Gun’s tongue lick a molten stripe from his collar to his jaw and he can’t help the way his mouth falls open in a ragged groan.

He knows the guard outside the door can hear them, knows he can probably pick up the sound of his belt hitting the floor, but that’s just something else he can’t bring himself to care about at this moment. His eyes roll back and he arches into every touch on his bare skin, a moth to a flame that he knows will inevitably leave him a pile of ash.

“Good, you came prepared.” Gun’s voice is low, a deep timber that has Chan moving his shoulders, desperate to reach out and embrace him, but Gun seems disinclined to remove him from his makeshift bonds. He swallows the whimper rising in his throat at the feeling of long fingers crooking inside him, prodding and stroking and teasing until he’s panting open-mouthed and dappled in sweat.

It wasn’t always like this. They used to take their time to pull each other apart piece by piece. They used to lay in bed together after, teeth clicking as they tried to kiss through their smiles. They’d spent hours upon hours basking in the afterglow and tracing gentle patterns across flushed, sweat-soaked skin. He used to linger in bed, watching Gun dress in the fragile hours of the morning, before stealing a kiss and whispering goodbye.

Now, he pulls his belt off the floor and threads it through the loops of his trousers. Gun is pouring himself a drink, half a room away at the drink cart, and he knows he’s been all but dismissed. He smoothes out the wrinkles in his jacket and touches the raw skin of his neck. “You left marks.” He tries to keep his voice from sounding accusatory but he can’t tell if they’re bites, bruises, or beard burn. He presses his fingers into the sting just a little harder before dropping his hands back to his sides.

“You’ll figure something out,” Gun replies and returns to his seat on the couch. He picks up the papers again without a second look at Chan and he swallows down the disappointment. There’s no second glass offered, no invitation to stay, and Chan knows it’s time to leave. He’s fulfilled his purpose today and soaked up any attention he was allotted.

“I always do,” he mumbles under his breath, turning towards the door and stepping through without a goodbye. His mind digs up a memory of Gun pressing him to the very same door, refusing to let him leave before he’d pressed a kiss to his brow, his cheek, his nose, his jaw, and his lips. He clenches his hands in his pockets as he nods a farewell to the guards at the gate and climbs into his car.

He makes it two blocks before pulling over, tucking himself away down a residential street and pressing his forehead to the steering wheel. His hands are clenched in a white-knuckled grip and his stomach roils with self-loathing and guilt. He is a traitor in every sense of the word; to Gun, to Khun Korn, and lastly (always lastly) to himself.

His skin feels like it’s crawling and he tells himself it’s just the sensation of putting himself back together. Each time he grabs the pieces of his humanity from the ashes they fit together less and less; edges worn away and ill-fitting. He should be tempered to the flame by now but as with all things he files it away as a personal failing to ruminate on in the quiet hours of the night.

After a few more moments he pulls away from the curb, continuing his way to the tower and pulling into the parking lot beneath. He returns the keys to the peg board next to the elevator and steps inside, jamming the button for the dorm rooms a little too hard. He is grateful it's late, too late for many other recruits to be outside their rooms. He doesn't have to deal with the sideways looks and backhanded comments questioning his loyalty.

Chan counts the doors just like he used to the first few weeks here until he reaches the fourth door on the right. The key in the tumbler sounds overly loud to him, but he knows he’s just on edge. He strips out of his suit on the way to the bathroom and doesn’t pay attention to how hot he turns the dial. It will never be hot enough, anyway, not for what he wants to accomplish.

The constant spray turns his skin a mottled red but even still he stays leaning against the tiled wall. Chan keeps his eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and arms braced despite the slight tremble throughout his frame. His skin feels dirty, tainted, and he can almost imagine a viscous ichor dripping from every pore. No amount of soap or scrubbing wipes it clean, no matter how hard he tries or how many layers of skin he digs away. The sensation lingers even as the water runs cold and trembling turns into shivering.

The tap squeaks as he turns it off and dries himself off with stilted, automatic movements. Chan doesn’t bother drying his hair as he walks to his bed and all but falls in, curling himself around his duvet and spare pillows. It didn’t used to feel like this and he doesn’t exactly know where it all began to go wrong, but he knows it’s peeling him apart piece by broken piece. He misses his best friend. He misses the lover that used to touch him gently and beg him to stay. He misses when his heart felt like a functioning organ, bursting with affection, and not a withering plant deprived of sunlight.

He falls asleep with damp eyelashes and memories of open-mouthed, laughing kisses by the river. He dreams someone is bandaging his hands and kissing his knuckles, asking him to be more careful next time.

The next time they meet is better; Gun’s eyes are bright and crinkle at the corners in the way Chan loves. They retreat into one of the sitting rooms, away from the pressures of Gun’s office, and settle in close. There are no immediate, demanding kisses or groping hands. They sit beside each other, sip their drinks and talk about their days (as much as they can.) Chan feels that familiar bubble of warmth in his chest and feels like he draws in a full breath for the first time in months. Maybe things aren’t irreparable, maybe they just needed time to settle into their new roles with one another.

They kiss, slow and languid in a way that says they still love each other and it slowly heals the cracks at the walls of Chan’s heart. Gun touches him so gently, so reverently, that he feels like he’s picking up the cracked porcelain pieces and slotting them together as if they’d never been broken in the first place. He shudders at the sensation of calloused palms sliding up and under his shirt, spanning across his ribs and shoulders and coaxing him into his lap. He swallows the words he wants to say and stifles the ‘I missed you’ he knows would only dampen the mood.

They take their time undressing each other like they have all the time in the world, and they each pepper kisses over every expanse of skin they uncover. Chan feels like molten metal when Gun finally ushers him to the bedroom and pours him against the sheets. He can’t remember the last time they’d taken enough time to make it here and he inhales deeply the scent of frankincense and jasmine.

He knows he’ll have stubble burn between his thighs but he can’t bring himself to care as his back arches tight like a bowstring. There’s that telltale pull in his stomach - a little trepidation and a little anticipation - and before long he’s exhaling all his passion and arousal in a low, drawn and breathy moan. Gun’s touch borders on too much, his skin humming with oversensitivity, but Gun knows exactly how long he can bear it before he draws his way back up and captures his lips in another slow kiss.

It takes a few moments before he feels the synapses in his brain connect again and he’s running his hands down Gun’s chest, his lips are traveling across his jaw, and his teeth are gently scraping against the shell of his ear. He takes a moment to spit into the palm of one hand; it’s inelegant and crass but it will do. He’s never been a selfish lover a day in his adult life and he’s not about to start now, not with how weightless and right he feels again. He strokes and twists his wrist the way he knows Gun likes, his thumb swiping and pressing in just the right spot. It doesn’t take long, a few gentle bites against his ear, a few more strokes with added pressure each time, and he feels the familiar bite of nails against his upper arms and warmth wash across his fingers and palm.

Chan wipes his hand on the sheets, knowing Gun will have someone change them later, and lays back against the pillows in liquid contentment. He can’t help the small smile that stretches the corner of his lips as he’s pulled over, head cradled against a strong shoulder and a stubbled chin resting against his hair. The words threaten to bubble up again, ‘I missed you,’ but he swallows and forces them down with the bob of his throat.

“We can’t linger long, I have a meeting soon.” Gun breaks the carefully crafted silence, but his hand is still stroking gently up and down Chan’s arm so he can’t bring himself to mind. Besides, he likes the way his voice rumbles beneath his ear.

“They’re expecting me back for some additional training later, anyway,” Chan replies and turns his head to press a feather-light kiss just above a dusky nipple. The sun is peeking through the shutters and casting scattered rays of light on their tangled bodies. He feels warm in a way he hasn’t in so long and he’s perfectly content to spend the few moments they have left silent and absorbing the attention he’s craved for months.

Chan sighs when their time comes to an end, as it always does, and he reluctantly extracts himself from Gun’s embrace to begin pulling on his shirt and redoing each button with a methodical patience he wouldn’t have previously had before joining the Family. Gun is an obstacle the entire way, pressing gentle kisses to his shoulders until Chan has to shrug him off, hands spreading across his thighs until he has to tug up his trousers. Getting dressed becomes something of a battle between them and by the end of it, Chan is laughing and pressing a quick kiss to Gun’s waiting lips.

He waits until Gun is dressed in his preferred florals and saturated colors that never cease to make him question everything about his lover’s fashion taste, but he supposes he isn’t much better in his grayscale wardrobe or the faded band shirts he'd once favored. Gun walks him to the door with a final kiss and a promise to reach out to him later. Chan lingers for a moment, stealing one more kiss, then two, before he seems to have withdrawn his limit and Gun is pushing him out the door.

Chan catches himself just before he runs into a figure taking long strides down the hall, but he can’t help the way his brow creases and his head tilts at the sight of them. He’s never seen her before, a petite woman with a figure that must be sculpted with the best of self-restraint and work. She peers up at him with large brown eyes and he feels it like a punch to his gut, the way her look is almost knowing, and he can’t help but wonder if she’s judging him.

Unconsciously, he smooths his palms down his suit and offers her a nod before taking a step away.

“There you are, dear.” He turns at Gun’s word, feeling his chest and his stomach bloom with affection and love. That warmth quickly turns to frigid tendrils of disbelief as he watches Gun place a hand on her waist and draw her close to press a kiss to her cheek. Once again, he feels it like a punch to his center and he nearly doubles over with it, only rigorous training and determination keeping him upright.

Gun spares him a parting glance and a raised brow over her shoulder and Chan can only duck his head and hurry his way down the hall, a hot wash of mortification turning the back of his neck and his ears an unmistakable shade of scarlet. He hopes he’s imagining the looks of pity some of the guards are giving him, but he’s sure at least a few of them are real. He wonders if they tell stories about him, the foolish street thug turned bodyguard reaching far beyond his station. He should have known better.

tagging my beloved cheering squad @porschesbabydaddy @haahka @bottomvegas

#changun #kp fic #kpts fic #kpts fanfic #kinnporsche fic #kinnporsche fanfic #kp fanfic #prism writes #teehee #sorry!!

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moonlit-jeno · 4 years ago

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red door, yellow door (m.)

pairing: mark lee x fem reader x jung jaehyun

words: 8.1k

a/n: this is a repost from my old bts blog! pls don’t ask abt it bc i no longer actively follow bts :)

One of these days, you’re going to kill your coworkers.

You love them, you really do, but sometimes they can just be so dumb. It was Donghyuck and Renjun who came up with the idea to play this stupid game, one that is probably only played by naive 12 year old girls during slumber parties.

Normally you’d just brush it off, but Renjun had called you a wimp, so naturally you had to do it. Which is how you’ve ended up on your back with your best friend massaging circles into your forehead.

“Red door, yellow door, any other color door,” is being chanted around the room. You fight the urge to move your neck to a more comfortable position on Mark’s lap. Your hand twitches above your head, where your arms are raised. “This is stupid,” You whisper, and Mark laughs, scolding you lightly.

After a while, the mindless chanting lulls you to sleep, and you feel yourself drift off.

“What do you see?”

Two doors appear in front of you, one red and one yellow. They both look kind of old, paint chipping and peeling off.

“Anything else?”

A black door appears next to the yellow one and you find yourself drawn to it, wanting to go in. This one is shinier, considerable newer and more inviting compared to the other two

“Go in.”

You open the door and walk through, a sense of relief flooding through your senses as you give in to the pull. The room that you find yourself in seems never ending, the only thing in it a large bed.

“Do you see anyone?”

A man appears, sitting on the bed. The suit he’s wearing is unfitting for the plain surroundings- in fact, he’s unfitting for the surroundings in general. His teeth are blinding white when he smiles, not a hair out of place on his entire head. He’s attractive, all golden skin and beautiful features. Almost too beautiful. A shiver crawls up your spine, a tinge of discomfort bleeding into your senses. He smiles, dimples popping out, and you push the discomfort to the back of your mind.

“Who are you?” Your voice comes out distant to your own ears, echoing around you.

“Call me Jaehyun. Why don’t you come here, little bird? We can get properly acquainted.” The voice sounds haunting, like a distorted video. You wouldn’t believe that he’s speaking if his lips didn’t move in sync. Despite the unnatural voice sounding warning bells in your brain, you find yourself moving forward automatically and settling down on his lap when he pats his thigh for emphasis.

“And what’s your name, little bird?” He trails a hand up and down your thigh and you shiver, leaning back against him. He chuckles when you tell him your name, a pleased smile lighting up his features.

“Well, little bird, seems that we’re going to have some fun together.”

Your name is being echoed all around you, and you wake with a jolt, eyes flying open to see Mark staring at you.

“Are you okay?” The rest of your group is also gathered around you, standing in a half circle.

“Yeah, just fell asleep for a bit. Why?” You push yourself onto your elbows, sitting up so that you can lean against Mark.

Donghyuck plops down on the floor, sitting so that he’s facing you. “You were talking like you were having a conversation with someone. Who was it?”

You shrug, trying not to dull his excitement. “I don’t know, just some guy.”

“Was he wearing a suit?” Renjun asks, standing behind Hyuck. He grimaces when you nod. “Y/n, we literally told you not to talk to anyone in a suit. We told you not to talk to anyone. It’s in the rules.”

You roll your eyes, knowing how serious he gets when it comes to stuff like this. “Relax, it’s fine. He seemed nice, and it’s not like it was anything real.”

Renjun still doesn’t look convinced, but Mark interrupts his paranoia by doing what he’s best- or worst, depending on who you ask- at, cracking jokes.

“Hey, was he eating deviled eggs?” He laughs at his own joke, and everyone else groans. “Hey, don’t get mad at me. His place was probably such a hellhole.” The bad mood dissolves into jokes and loud laughter for the rest of the night.

You leave the party- or gathering as Donghyuck had called it because it sounded more mysterious- when it starts storming. The rain drenches you and pretty much everyone else that’s sitting on the porch, leaving you scrambling for shelter. Luckily, Mark offers you a ride.

“Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Mark hollars out the window of his truck, his words getting lost in the night as he speeds off. His truck hits a pothole and you can imagine him swearing as his head hits the roof. Giggling to yourself, you unlock your apartment and slip inside. It’s close to 2 in the morning, so you decide that if you’re already not going to get that much sleep, why not binge Shameless?

You only get through two episodes before your eyelids feel heavy, and you have to fight to keep them open. On screen, there’s a bar fight that you try to take interest in, but sleep quickly pulls you under.

“Welcome back, little bird.” The voice is all around you, but no matter how much you turn and search, no one’s to be found.

“Turn around, little bird, I am here.” Spinning abruptly, you come face to face with the man from earlier, Jaehyun. He gives you a chilling grin.

“So we meet again,” he starts, and his voice no longer sounds eerie or inauthentic. He sounds like, well, a normal man. “Tell me, what would you do if I were to kiss you?”

You swallow, tongue darting out to wet your lips on instinct. “Depends. Are you a good kisser?” You aim for coy, but you miss the mark and land closer to worried.

“You could say that.” He pulls you close with one hand on the back of your head, stopping right before your lips. “May I?”

You nod, and he pulls you in for a gentle, closed mouth kiss.

It’s like that touch ignites a fire in you, because before you know it, your arms are thrown around his neck, dragging him closer to deepen the kiss. You lick along his lower lip and he readily grants you access, a throaty groan leaving him when you suck on his tongue. Liquid heat courses through your veins when he nips at your lower lip, tongue flicking over it in apology. You moan, raw and needy. He likes that, if the chuckle and wicked grin is anything to go by. Picking you up so that your legs are wrapped around his waist, he walks over to a bed that definitely wasn’t there before.

He drops you on the bed, and then suddenly you’re both naked. Jaehyun leans over you, all lean muscles and golden skin. His cock hangs hard and flushed between his legs, and you have the urge to swallow him down. He groans, as if reading your mind, and then reaches to pump himself slowly, long fingers wrapped around the length. “Not now, little bird, not now. I have something else in mind.” With one gentle push to your shoulders, you’re lying flat on the bed, Jaehyun between your legs. His mouth hovers over your core, already wet and dripping despite not having been touched. He plays idly with the slick on your upper thigh, drawing random patterns into the flesh. His eyes are dark, and you could swear that they’re entirely black, no white visible. He peers curiously up at you from between your legs, watching your reaction as his fingers get closer and closer to where you want him. Your breathing picks up as arousal thrums through your body, center pulsing and aching for some sort of relief.

“May I have you?” His breath ghosts over your center when you speak, the sensation making you even needier.

You nod quickly. “Take it, fuck, you have all of me.” He grins, wasting no time in diving in. His tongue feels impossibly good, licking up your folds and circling over your clit. He leaves sloppy kisses along your core, one hand massaging your thigh and keeping you spread open. You cry out when his tongue pushes into you, his nose brushing your clit and sending sparks up your spine.

His tongue feels impossibly long, so good inside of you that you feel like you’re losing your mind. Your hips buck up desperately, riding his face to hell and back. One arm gets thrown over your stomach to keep you in place while two fingers from his free hand dip into your soaking core, curling into that spot immediately. Stars flash behind your eyes, one hand coming down to fist in Jaehyun’s hair. Your feet scramble frantically along his back, heels digging in in an effort to anchor yourself, toes curling at the sensations singing through you.

You feel your orgasm drawing closer, heat pooling in your center. You whimper brokenly as you try to chase after your high, grinding your hips along his tongue. He lets you, just holding his tongue flat out for you to ride.

You come like that, falling apart on his tongue, screams of his name falling from your lips. He works you through it, tongue gently licking along your folds, slurping up your arousal as if he hasn’t had a meal in weeks.

You lay there, boneless and whimpering weakly through the aftershocks until Jaehyun pulls away to kiss up your body. He licks into your mouth hotly, reminding you that he hasn’t come yet. You bat weakly at his chest, pushing him onto his back. “Your turn,”

He groans in appreciation at the view of you above him. “So perfect, little bird. I’m gonna have so much fun with your soul.”

This sentence freezes you in your spot. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Jaehyun meets your gaze, black eyes entrancing you. “That means, y/n, that I’m going to have your soul. You belong to me now, hmm?” One of his hands plays gently with a strand of your hair. “That’s what you agreed to earlier, no?”

“N-no.” You try backing away, but the inhuman voice from earlier is back, echoing everywhere, repeating his words over and over until you can’t take it anymore-

You wake with a gasp, hitting your head as you sit up. Your computer is still on your lap, episode fifteen playing. Fuck, you’ve only been asleep for forty five minutes. It’s not even three yet, and you don’t have to go to work until eight. Deciding there’s no way you’re falling back asleep, you get up and decide to bake.

Five hours later, your coworkers love you when you show up with containers of cinnamon rolls, five different types of cookies, and a coffee cake. Mark looks mildly worried.

“You okay? I haven’t seen you bake since high school.” You snap out of your thoughts and turn to face Mark. The look of concern on your best friend’s face is enough to make you feel guilty and you nod, forcing a smile onto your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Had a bad dream last night and couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” You respond, trying not to show how bothered you actually are.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mark leans forward over his desk, chin planted on his hand.

“No, it’s gonna sound dumb.” You whine, shaking your head. And it is dumb, even to you. You’re scared because you had a dream that some man ate you out and then told you he was going to take your soul?

“Well, you always sound dumb. Of course your dreams are gonna be dumb.” Mark laughs as you chuck a piece of cake at him, infectious laugh soothing you. You sigh.

Mark raises his eyebrows at you when you finish telling him your dream. “You’re scared because you had a wet dream? Damn, I’d be living in a nightmare if I was scared after every wet dream I’ve had.”

You kick him under the table. “Mark! It was really scary. He told me he was going to take my soul!”

Upon seeing that you’re actually freaked out, his face softens. “Look, y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You probably just thought that he was hot, and your brain remembered his face and put it in a dream. I wouldn’t worry about it; what’s the worst he’s gonna do, haunt you?”

You give a shaky nod, agreeing. It’s not like something from your dreams could actually harm you. Mark reaches across the desk, taking your hand in his and giving a tight squeeze, warm brown eyes gazing at you openly. “And if something does happen, just remember that I’m your best friend. I’ll be here for you.”

“Thanks, Mark. Means a lot to me.”

He leans back in his seat. “Anytime, anyplace, anything. Triple A.”

You smile, raising an eyebrow. “Anything?”

His eyes go wide, taking in the glint in your eyes. “Within reason.”

“How about a sip of coffee?” You nod down at his cup, pasting a huge smile on your face.

“I did say within reason, so no.”

You huff. “I expected that.”

Although you don’t scare easily, it’s safe to say that you’re a bit unsettled tonight, especially after your nightmare last night. You find yourself jumping at every little noise, hand slamming the light switch on with your pulse racing every five minutes. This has been going on for an hour, and after a final sweep of your room reveals nothing, you decide that maybe a face mask will help you relax.

Your bathroom has two mirrors facing each other, which is normally a blessing when you do your hair, but tonight it does nothing but make you want to hide under your blankets.

Get a grip on yourself, you chastise, grabbing your phone and opening spotify. Maybe some music will help? You click on your Christmas playlist because what better way to cheer up than to think about your favorite holiday?

A mistake, really, because it seems that you’ve forgotten how creepy Santa is.

“He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake,” Yikes. You stop that song in a hurry, feeling anything but comforted. No music then, noted.

You reach for your face wash, turning the sink on and waiting for the water to warm. You can’t help but glance in the mirror behind you every so often, paranoia getting the best of you. Man, you feel pathetic, worrying about monsters in your closet like you’re six and not twenty-six.

You wash your face quickly, hoping that your fears will wash away as well. No such luck.

You swear you see something move behind you after you dry your face off, but there’s nothing there. Shaking it off, you reach for your face mask, taking your time painting your face with the green clay.

It’s after your face is coated that you spot someone in the glass behind you. You scream, whipping around to come face to face with a man. Not just any man- Jaehyun.

Your heart thunders in your chest, eyes widening in fear. He seems to be in the mirror, copying your petrified expression mockingly.

“Hello, little bird.” He purrs, smirking lightly.

“Are you- are you in my mirror?” You’re in disbelief, mind struggling to comprehend this. First you spot him while in a weird trance, then in a dream, and now in your mirror? Maybe you’re having a quarter life crisis.

“No, I am not. Mirrors are just gateways to alternate dimensions. I’m merely using the mirror to visit you.” He says this like it’s common knowledge. It feels like your throat is made of sandpaper with how hard it is to choke out your words. “O-okay. I’m just gonna- yeah.”

You grab your phone from the counter and bolt, fumbling for your keys before jumping into your car and speeding off in the direction of Mark’s house. You call him, fingers fumbling on the screen. He goes to voicemail the first time, and your heart drops. “No, no, no,” you whisper frantically, calling again. He does pick up this time.

“Y/n? It’s the middle of the night.” His voice sounds gruff, and you feel guilty for waking him up. One glance in your rear view mirror reveals that Jaehyun is joining you on this ride, and you scream, car swerving violently to one side before you straighten it out.

“Where are we going, little bird?”

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Mark’s voice has lost its sleepy edge, taking on a concerned tone. He says your name again, more frantic.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Your tires squeal as you make a turn, now only two blocks away. “Can I- can I come over? I really need to be with someone right now.”

“Of course, you know you’re always welcome. The door’s unlocked.”

You hang up, willing the tears in your eyes to not spill over. Finally arriving, you slam on the breaks and haphazardly pull next to a curb, yanking the key out of the ignition and sprinting to Mark’s house.

You lock the door behind you when you step inside, testing the handle as if a door could stop a mirror traveling demon or whatever the fuck Jaehyun was from coming inside. “Mirrors,” you mumble, reaching the stairs.

“Y/n? What’s-” Mark stands at the top of the stairs, one hand rubbing at his eyes. You cut him off, flying up the stairs.

“Mirrors, fuck. Mark, we need to cover the mirrors!” You breeze by his shocked figure, not noticing the way he turns to stare at you incredulously.

“What, why? Y/n, are you crazy?”

Ignoring him, you throw a towel over the mirror in his bathroom, ripping open a pack of bandaids to use as adhesive.

You throw another towel over the mirror in his bedroom, collapsing on his bed when you’re done and finally allowing yourself to sob.

“Y/n, hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” Mark, as gentle and caring as ever, comes over to sit next to you, one hand combing through your hair.

“I- don’t laugh at me.” You stare him straight in the eye, pleading with him. You know you’re going to sound crazy, but you’re praying that your best friend listens to you. He nods, urging you to go on.

“That- that man I saw in my dream and during whatever fucked up game Hyuck had us play? He was in my fucking mirror, Mark. I- the whole night, I had this feeling that I was being watched, and then I went into my bathroom and he was just there, and-” You’re hyperventilating at this point, fighting for every breath, tears clouding your vision. “He was in my car, in the rear view mirror-” Mark pulls you closer, enveloping you in his arms and allowing you to sob loudly into his chest. You cry for a few minutes, until you’re finally able to pull yourself together.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’ve had a rough week, I know. It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.”

He wipes a tear away from your check, patting you lightly. “Why don’t you go wash this off, okay? We can watch a movie after.” He offers, and until that point, you’d forgotten you were wearing a face mask. You grimace at the green imprint on his black shirt, but he just chuckles. “I’ll go grab you some water in the meantime.”

Nodding, you garner up the energy to walk to his bathroom. It’s fine, the mirror’s covered, he can’t hurt you. You close the door just in case, wanting an extra level of protection

You rinse your face with cold water, hoping that it will clear your mind. You give your face a couple more splashes before drying off with a towel.

“You missed a spot on your forehead.” You freeze before looking around wildly. There’s no one around, which can only mean that Jaehyun can still see you. Swallowing, you start the water again, rubbing at your forehead.

“And your left cheek.” You rub at the skin, being way too harsh but you excuse it considering your situation. “No, your other left. My left.”

“Jesus,” You growl in annoyance, reaching up to rip the towel down. Sure enough, there’s a splotch of green on your cheek. Jaehyun’s nowhere to be found. Maybe I am losing my mind.

You finish rinsing the mask off, finding some face lotion buried in Mark’s drawer, screaming bloody murder when Jaehyun appears in the mirror again. “Looking for me?”

“No! Leave me alone!” You cry, head spinning. Jaehyun fakes a pout, holding a hand over his heart in mock hurt. Do demons even have hearts?

“Ouch, little bird. You don’t want to finish what we started the other night? When I had you moaning so pretty, so wet for me. I’m sure your pussy would take me so well, hmm?” Your heart rate kicks up again, but for a different reason this time. You almost moan, thinking about the dream.

Because he was right, you had been so wet. The want comes back full forces, slamming into you like a truck. You remember how needy you were, wanting to suck his cock so bad, wanting him to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow. All fear that you previously had is slowly disappearing, fading into lust.

The demon smiles knowingly. “Ah, little bird, so you do remember. Remember how you promised me that you’re mine?”

You nod, eyes glazing over. You’re wet, panties starting to stick to your throbbing core uncomfortably.

“Mmmh, I bet you’re already dripping for me. Just waiting for me to come out and fill you up.”

Hearing your name leave his lips sends a wave of arousal crashing through you so strong that your knees buckle, grabbing onto the counter for support. He chuckles, but whatever he’s about to say is cut off by Mark.

“What were you say-” Your best friend trails off, eyes wide as he observes the scene. You snap out of your haze at the interruption. His mouth parts in shock. “You really weren’t kidding, shit.” He laughs humorlessly.

Then, quick as lightning, he rears back and punches the mirror. You scream in surprise at the crack, shards falling to the floor.

You and Mark both stare at the broken shards of glass on the ground, gleaming under the lights. “Mark,” You start, trailing off once you realize you have nothing to say. He seems to understand, walking forward until he’s close enough to pull you into a hug. You feel tears start to slide down your cheeks, dampening the cotton of your best friends shirt. You hug him closer, burying your face into his broad chest. He wraps himself around you, and you let yourself be lulled into the sense of security that his larger frame brings you. A sense of security that vanishes once you hear a low chuckle that definitely does not belong to Mark.

You both scream, leaping backwards and away from the noise. Jaehyun stands there, just in front of the door, with a shit eating grin on his face. You cower behind Mark, who is wrapping a protective arm around you while simultaneously trying to hide behind you.

“I really must thank you for finally setting me free. Normally I have to wait for some asshole with a ouija board, but then there’s just so many other demons that I have to compete with. So I just stick to the dream world-” He pauses to wink at you for emphasis “-but this is so much more fun.” His eyes are black, and you can’t tell where he’s looking. Swallowing, you clutch onto Mark’s arm for dear life.

The demon seems to regard the two of you for a moment, before his amusement seems to grow. He begins to move forward.

“Ah, Mark Lee. Lovely name for a stupid boy. Didn’t you know breaking a mirror is bad luck?” By this point, you and Mark are flattened against the wall, while Jaehyun stands less than a foot away from the two of you. There’s nowhere to run. This is it, you think, this is how I die.

Jaehyun chuckles, turning to you. You lower your gaze to the ground; it hurts to make eye contact with him. “No, little bird. This isn’t how you die, don’t worry.”

Then he’s backing away from the two of you, motioning to follow him. The logical part of your brain is screaming not to, but you find yourself drawn to him, legs carrying you after him without your consent, Mark clutching your arm tightly as he walks next to you.

Jaehyun seems to know the layout of the house, leading you straight into Mark’s bedroom. The demon grabs a chair from the desk and spins it around, straddling it so that he’s facing the bed.

He motions lazily. “Go on now, have a seat. Get comfortable.”

You find yourself sitting down on the edge of the bed, following his words like marching orders. Mark sits about half a foot away from you. Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, no, no. That won’t do. I said to get comfortable, did I not?” He raises an eyebrow as if daring you to argue with him. “Go lay down at the head board.”

You crawl to the head of the bed, settling so that you’re on your side, facing the demon. Mark follows suit, pulling you close to him so that you’re spooning. Jaehyun lets out a pleased hum. “Much better. Aren’t you much more comfortable now?” Nodding, you realize that you actually are more comfortable. It’s not just the change of position, but the energy in the room as well. The demon is no longer giving off a threatening aura. It’s more relaxed, maybe even happy? He certainly looks more relaxed, probably as happy as a demon can get, if not a little smug.

Your body is pulsing with energy, and it takes you a moment to place what you’re feeling. The earlier need to run that you had felt has been replaced with another need, albeit further down. Your thighs clench as another surge of heat pulses through your core, and your face warms at the realization. Why now, of all times, are you horny?

Jaehyun’s grin broadens as he seems to sense your dilemma. “Oh, little bird, if only you knew. Tell me, what type of demon do you think I am?” He watches you curiously, black eyes staring into your soul.

You try to tilt your head towards Mark, but the position’s too awkward and you only catch a glimpse of the side of his face. He looks a bit flushed from what you can see, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip, teeth that you could easily replace with your own- you blink, dazedly. What the fuck? Sexual thoughts about your best friend? That’s a new one. Even if you’ve noticed that he’s hot, you’d never thought about him sexually. Now, though, you can feel the hardness of his dick against your ass, and you can’t help but think about how good he could fuck you.

“Incubus,” You finally manage, blinking rapidly to clear the haze of your vision. Jaehyun grins, looking genuinely surprised that you’d gotten it right.

“Good girl. Make a little sense now?” You nod, fighting a moan as Mark starts to rock against you, slowly, as if he’s unconsciously doing it. Jaehyun notices.

“How about you, Mark? You doing alright over there?”

Your friend, your best friend, buries his face in your neck and groans, deep and delicious. It sends another surge of heat through your body, the growing need between your legs pulsing pathetically. “What are you doing to us?” The words are growled behind you, vibrating against the skin where his lips are pressed.

“Oh no, Mark, I’m not doing anything to you. The only thing I can do to you is make you realize your desires. Your deepest, darkest fantasies? I make that happen. Finally being able to fuck the girl you’ve been in love with for years? I make that happen.” The words take a minute to register with you, but you stiffen when the meaning hits you. Mark Lee, in love with you? An unlikely story, bordering impossible.

The demon chuckles at your inner turmoil, rolling his eyes at how dumb humans can be. “You too, y/n. You love Mark, even if you won’t admit it. You let the idea that he was too good for you scare you away from him. Do you not remember how often you thought of him, late at night after first meeting him?”

You groan in protest, not because it’s not true, but because you do remember. It had been so long ago. When you hadn’t known Mark, had only known of him. You pull away from Mark, awkwardly pushing him to lay flat against the pillows while you clamber on top of him.

“Mark, is it true? Do you love me?” You hold his face between your hands, staring into his eyes. He meets your gaze, pupils blown and eyes half lidded. He nods as best he can.

“So, so much.” Mark’s voice comes out raspy, matching his flushed skin. You lean down to kiss him, uncaring of the other presence in the room. Mark moans when your lips make contact, hands pulling you to straddle him. Your eyelids flutter at the feeling of his clothed cock against your center, rocking your hips to try to ease the throb of your core. His hands fly to your ass, pulling and kneading at the flesh as he urges you into a harsher pace.

The kiss is rougher, needier now, open mouthed and panting. Mark’s got his tongue tangled with yours, sucking in such a way that sends waves of heat through you. You want him in you, any part of him really.

Jaehyun seems to agree, speaking up from right next to you. You jump, having forgotten he was there although he’s the reason you’re like this in the first place.

“Let’s get the show on the road. As much as I’m enjoying this, I think we’d all enjoy something else a little more.” The demon reaches for the hem of your shirt and you nod, raising your arms above your head to let him pull the garment off. Mark groans at the newly revealed skin, hands going to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. “Fuck,” He whines, staring in awe at your chest. He doesn’t waste time before leaning up to kiss along your cleavage, pulling the bra down to expose your breasts. Another set of hands unclasp the bra before traveling down your torso to rub circles into your hip bones, sliding your sleeping shorts and panties off at the same time. Jaehyun throws the shorts somewhere off the bed. He keeps the panties, a pleased sigh leaving him as he appreciates the ruined fabric.

“Fuck, little bird. You’re really enjoying this,” He comments, as if he isn’t a fucking lust demon that can sense these kinds of things. You don’t voice your thoughts, because Mark chooses this moment to suck a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin so that all you can do is moan. “You’ve even ruined your panties. They’re soaked.”

He hands the strip of lace to Mark, who lets out a throaty groan at the sight. “You’re not getting these back.” He informs you, slipping the garment into his bedside drawer. You ignore him, instead tugging insistently at his shirt. He takes pity on you, grabbing the collar and yanking the baggy tee over his head.

You let your hands slide down his chest in admiration, feeling the hard lines of his muscles. You lick your lips at how broad his shoulders are, how strong he looks. Jaehyun doesn’t give you much time to enjoy the view, gliding two fingers along your slit before circling around your little nub. A cry of pleasure leaves you to mindlessly press your face into Mark’s collarbone, nipping and sucking the flesh until you’re sure you’ve left a bruise.

Jaehyun slips the two fingers into your aching core, curling and dragging them so well along your walls. Sparks of electricity flow through your veins, heat pooling in your center.

Mark groans from below you. Looking down, you see that you’ve unconsciously dug your nails into his hard chest in an effort to ground yourself. You remove your hands, only to spot little red half crescents littered over his skin. You rub your palms over the marks as if to soothe them, but it seems that the man wasn’t groaning from pain.

“Y/n” He sounds so fucked out, voice hoarse and raw even though hardly anything has happened yet. “You look so good like this, so perfect for me.” He brings one large hand up to cup your cheek, thumb delicately stroking over your cheekbone before moving down to trace your lower lip. You part your lips, letting him slide in before sucking around the digit, tongue curling around it as if it were his cock. His eyes darken a fraction, tongue coming out to wet his lips, swollen and kiss bitten.

You moan around the digit as Jaehyun adds a third finger, stretching your walls so pleasantly that you can’t help but buck your hips back for more. A whine forces its way out of your throat as the demon pulls his fingers out of you, leaving an empty ache between your thighs.

“Don’t you think it would be more fun if she was sucking on something a bit bigger than your finger, Mark?” The voice startles you, breath tickling your ear as he speaks. The man under you nods, swallowing thickly. Your eyes are drawn to the way his Adam’s apple bobs with the movement, and a gush of wetness pulses down below. Your thighs are probably covered in your arousal at this point.

You scoot down his body, trailing kisses and bites down his toned stomach. You take your time unzipping his pants, sucking a mark into the soft skin below his navel. He’s hard as a rock, and you moan in appreciation at the sheer size of him once you shimmy his jeans down his thighs.

“No underwear?” You ask, mouth curling up in a teasing smirk. He huffs out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows so that he can watch. “No, ‘s too restricting.”

You lazily pump his dick, thumb flicking over the tip once or twice. You plan to tease him more, but then Jaehyun’s pushing your head down and you have no choice but to open your mouth wide, innocent eyes peeking up at Mark as you take his cock in your mouth. He’s so big that you can’t take him in all the way, keeping one hand curled around his cock to stroke what your mouth can’t reach. You let it get sloppy, using your spit to ease the glide until you’ve got a pleasant rhythm going. Mark replaces Jaehyun’s hands with his own, gathering strands of your hair in his palms and using that grip to control your pace. “F-fuck,” He lets out a shaky exhale, letting his head fall back against the pillows once he’s satisfied with the pace.

Jaehyun slaps your ass, a loud smack sounding throughout the room. You moan, pitching forward onto Mark’s cock and gagging as he hits the back of your throat. A strangled cry leaves the man above you, his hips thrusting even further into the tight, wet heat of your mouth.

The demon kneads your stinging flesh before using his grip on you to pull your hips up. “Good girl,” You keen under his praises, sticking your ass up even higher. The warm, wet pressure against your center has you faltering, moaning almost violently around Mark’s cock. He doesn’t seem to be having any complaints, the vibrations forcing a moan of his own out.

Your eyes roll up into your head as Jaehyun wraps his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. You’re sure you’d be screaming by now if Mark’s cock wasn’t halfway down your throat. You’ve given up sucking him off by this point, content to let the man fuck your mouth while Jaehyun sucks your fucking soul out from between your legs. It feels so good, not used to being the center of even one man’s focus, let alone two.

Mark eases you off of his cock after you accidentally bite him, using your spit to ease the slide as he lazily fucks up into his loose fist. You rest your head on his thigh, alternating between moaning wantonly and mouthing messily against the skin as you feel your orgasm approach.

Jaehyun pulls away at the last second, and you whine loudly as your orgasm is cut off. The feeling of frustration leaves you close to tears, and you jiggle your ass in hopes that it will regain his attention. It does momentarily, as Jaehyun lands a harsh smack on the flesh, but he pulls away again.

“Mark,” The man in question looks up, hand freezing on his dick as if waiting for Jaehyun’s orders. And fuck, what a sight that would be: your normally brash and confident friend being so pliant and submissive to a near stranger… You blink out of it, feeling mildly ashamed even in your current state. Luckily, Jaehyun interrupts your thoughts. “I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll let you go first. You’ve been waiting long enough for this, anyway.”

Mark nods eagerly, pulling you into a desperate kiss. You paw at every inch of skin you can reach, searching for a release from the ache inside of you. Your wish is granted when he hooks two fingers in your soaking cunt, groaning at how wet you are. He scissors you open quickly, hissing at how tight you feel.

“Ready, angel? Want my cock?” The pet name has you moaning, though it draws a low chuckle from Jaehyun, who’s watching from his position next to Mark.

“Hurry up, already. Need you in me, ‘ve waited so long.”

Mark lights up at this, smile stretching his features. He looks so breathtaking in this moment, skin glowing and flushed, hair mussed up, eyes blown wide and half lidded.

“I’m yours,” He breathes, leaning up for one last kiss. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you forward so that you’re hovering above his thick cock. “Ride me baby.”

“I’d love to.” Reaching one hand down to position him at your entrance, you start to lower yourself down. Of course, Jaehyun chooses this exact moment to stop you. He truly is the spawn of Satan.

“Little bird, hold on just a second. I found something of interest in the back of Markie’s brain.” You cringe as he mocks your earlier nickname for the man. “What’s this I’m seeing, Mark? You like it up the ass?” His tone is teasing, but Mark groans in embarrassment. His face has gone an alarming shade of red by this point. “N-no,” He tries to deny, sputtering excuses but Jaehyun cuts him off with a press of a finger to his lips. “Oh, Mark, don’t get shy on me now. It’s a perfectly fine thing to like. Little bird, you’ll get your turn in a minute. You,” He snaps his fingers at Mark. “Come here. Kneel up, just like that. Perfect.” He appraises Mark’s ass for a moment, hands moulding the flesh before slipping a finger in. Mark’s eyebrows furrow, and you shoot up in alarm. “Doesn’t he need lube?”

Jaehyun looks at you, surprised that you care, before chuckling. “I can produce lube. Perks of being a lust demon.” Winking at you, he returns his focus to Mark. You can’t see what he’s doing, but the pure pleasure present on your best friends face has you clenching your thighs together, waves of need crashing through you. If you thought he looked good before, he looks absolutely gone now. Breathless groans are leaving him now, eyelids fighting to stay open as he sinks down on the others fingers. You watch him, mesmerized, before shuffling over to him.

“How close are you?”

He forces his gaze down to you. “Kind of- nngh- close, w-why?”

Wrapping a hand around his base lightly, you start stroking. “Will you come if I blow you?”

He moans, a punched out sound that takes you by surprise. “Fuck, yes, I’ll definitely come if you blow me.” You pout in disappointment. Upon seeing your crestfallen expression, he continues. “Maybe we c-can- oh, yes- figure something out. Jaehyun,” He turns his head back behind him, struggling to get the words out between moans. “Can I eat y/n out?”

There’s just something so hot about Mark asking for permission from someone else that you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. Jaehyun must nod, because then you’re being laid back, Mark settling between your thighs. He’s sucking sweet kisses into your core almost immediately, pulling your legs over his shoulders to give him better access. You’re letting out sharp cries of pleasure the whole time, eyes fighting the urge to roll back in your head in favor of watching Mark between your legs. A particularly well placed flick of his tongue has your hips rolling against his face, grasping the sheets in your hand as your mind blanks. The pleasure climbing through your system is insane, threatening to burn you from the inside out.

It only gets better once Mark starts moaning, his sinful mouth sending sweet vibrations traveling up your core. You manage to catch sight of Jaehyun behind him, kissing wetly along his shoulders and neck, features curving into a smirk once he notices you watching him.

“Little bird likes this, hmm? Like watching another man pleasure your boyfriend while he pleases you?” You hum, unable to tear yourself away from his gaze, unable to even think, letting his boyfriend comment slide. Whereas before it hurt to look directly into his eyes, you now find yourself getting lost in his dark orbs. It’s like a drug, your pleasure being amplified by the man, demon, whatever in front of you.

You finally break eye contact, head falling back against the mattress as Mark draws you closer and closer to your peak. Burying one hand in his hair, you use the leverage to grind your core against his face, chasing your sweet release. “C-close, Mark, please-” You don’t know what you’re begging for at this point. It’s too much but not enough at the same time. Jaehyun saves you from having to decide by cruelly ripping your orgasm away from you, again, dragging Mark’s face away from your pussy.

A few tears slip down your face at this point, frustration reaching its peak. Jaehyun wipes the tears away, laughing lowly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you desire soon.”

He must pull out of Mark, because your friend whimpers before seeming to realize what he just did and clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Mark, would you like to fuck our little bird now?” Mark nods, tongue flicking out to wet dry lips.

Jaehyun smirks. “Good. On your back. Y/n, ride him.” You don’t have to be told twice. You scramble onto your knees, wasting no time in straddling Mark before dropping yourself down on him. You both moan in satisfaction, you at finally being filled and Mark at your tightness. You have to brace both hands on his chest, almost collapsing at the overwhelming relief you feel. Beyond the burn of the stretch, his cock filling you up so nicely, there’s a sweet pleasure, a satisfaction.

You don’t wait very long to adjust, grinding your hips in smooth circles before lifting yourself off of him and dropping yourself back down. You quickly start a rhythm of you bouncing on his cock, eyes rolling at how fucking big he feels in you.

Mark’s hands are locked in a vice grip on your ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh and using his grip to urge you into a faster pace.

Jaehyun decides to join, coming up behind you to kiss at your neck, one hand reaching up to your mouth. “Suck,” He commands, slipping two fingers past your willing lips. You do, hollowing your cheeks and slurping around the digits, wishing that it was his dick. He hums behind you, bringing the wet digits down to your entrance, finding your clit with ease and rubbing fast circles into the little nub. You moan even louder now, feeling yourself speed towards your climax. You’ve been on edge for too long, you can’t hold on anymore.

“You close, little bird? Going to come on Mark’s cock? Gonna make him fill you up, pound into that dirty cunt?” His words get to you, your head falling back against his shoulder once more.

“Yes, yes! Oh, please, please-” He cuts off your mindless rambling by pulling you in for a kiss, one that you melt into. This is the first time he’s kissed you, and you’re quite upset that you hadn’t kissed him earlier. It’s a hot kiss, lots of tongue and teeth. It heightens your pleasure immensely, and you can’t stop kissing him. You suck on his tongue filthily, and oh, he must like that if the resulting groan is anything to go by. Even when he goes to pull away, you won’t let him, one hand fisting in his hair to keep him close. He seems to be speeding up your release, if that were even possible. Your mind feels hazier now, every sensation heightened, core screaming for release. You feel your orgasm twisting painfully at your insides, pulsing before finally exploding. The intensity of it rips a scream out of your throat, nails scratching across Mark’s chest as Jaehyun licks even deeper into your mouth, drinking up the noises you make.

When you come down, Mark is still thrusting desperately up into you, though he stops at the demons command. “From behind,” You hear Jaehyun say, but everything’s hazy at this point. Your mind is still fuzzy from your orgasm, and it’s like watching through a screen. Like you’re high, though you hadn’t had anything the whole day.

Mark manhandles you into position, hands and knees with your ass raised high in the air. He leaves one gentle kiss on your shoulder blade before relentlessly pounding into you, cock hitting even deeper in this position. Jaehyun kneels in front of you, pulling your face in towards his cock. You moan around him as he slips inside, mouth not quite burning at the stretch like Mark, though the demon still has you gagging. His cock has the same effect on you as his kisses did, and you feel addicted. You’re slurping and sucking and moaning around him, not wanting the intense pleasure to stop. You barely hear the kissing above you, taking far too long to register that Jaehyun has pulled Mark into a messy kiss above you. The image has you moaning even more wantonly, ass pushing back against Mark.

The kiss seems to have a similar effect on the man, because then he’s slamming into you at an even more relentless rate, moans higher and more frequent before he’s coming with a shout, finally filling you up. Your core pulses again at the feeling, and you suck at Jaehyun’s dick with renewed vigor. His hands fist in your hair, keeping you still so that he can fuck your mouth as hard as he wants. You relish in the feeling of your throat being fucked raw, spit dripping out of your mouth and down his cock. He lets out a deep groan, hips slamming deep one last time as he finishes. His cum seems to ignite a fire within you, because you’re coming almost simultaneously with him, despite not even being touched.

You collapse afterwards, dragging yourself to Mark and letting him drape himself over you. You let yourself drift off to sleep, sated and still riding the high.

The demon kisses each of you one last time, drinking in the last remaining parts of your soul, watching as the two humans take their last breaths. “Thanks for the meal, lovelies.” He chuckles, petting your head almost affectionately before walking out into the night sky, not sparing a single glance back.

#mark smut #mark lee smut #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #super m smut #nct u smut #gonna delete any asks abt bts or the old blog so pls dont send any lol #not for bad reasons or anythnig i just dont have anything to say abt them #ummm ok i did edit this but it was originally jin and hoseok so if you see their names that's an accident my b #anyways enjoy kdjsnfj

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9tzuyu · 4 years ago

Text

exquisite (rewrite)

[old version]

summary: uhhh idk artist!reader gets f*cked by nat

warnings: 18+, smut, choking (verrrrryyy briefly), mommy kink

also its been awhile since i’ve written smut so if this is awful do not perceive me >:(.

thank you moli for proofreading, i love u <3

dt: @nermalina hey bff heres that smut i promised you. consider it a very late birthday gift <3

🏷: @natasha-danvers @kermy48 @yelenabelovasgf @blackxwidowsxwife @slut-for-nat

natasha had been a model for dozens of people, dozens of times. it never crossed your mind that she would model specifically for you. the redhead was aggressively known for rejecting people's pleas for her to let them paint, sketch, or mold her from clay.

so it came as a surprise when you came across an email requesting a one-on-one session with you. had natasha's name not caught your eye, you would've deleted the email and completely missed such a huge opportunity.

you just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.

the all too known model would be at your apartment in half an hour. you had already set up your supplies the night before out of pure nervousness of her arrival.

you stood in the middle of your kitchen, a cup of orange juice in hand as you thought about the different styles you could draw her in. however, your train of thought was unexpectedly interrupted by the sound of a knock at your door.

natasha was twenty minutes early. and god did it feed into your anxiety.

after unlocking the deadbolt, you were greeted with a friendly pair of green eyes. you didn't say anything, only moving out of the way so she could walk in.

she took in her surroundings, and you suddenly felt a little embarrassed about your apartment. it was cheap, invaluable compared to the rich houses you knew natasha had been invited to.

"sorry it's not much," you mumbled.

"no, it's fine. it's different... in a good way i mean." she reassured quickly, "it doesn't scream how much you want to impress me."

you gave an awkward nod and led her into the living room, motioning to her that you wanted her on the couch.

"okay, you can get into any form you want as long as-" seeing natasha with her clothes half off and still going caught your breath. "-you're comfortable."

she saw your panic from the corner of her eye and smirked. natasha tended to have that effect on people, but this was the first time she allowed someone to draw her fully nude. seeing the look in your eyes as they roamed her body gave her the confidence boost she needed.

you bit your lip as you watched natasha position herself. her right arm rest against the armrest, legs situated atop each other while her left arm fell against her hip.

and just when you thought she had finalized her position, she bent her left knee up and spread her legs. you had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from moaning out loud.

"how's this?"

you nodded, "perfect."

normally natasha could keep herself busy with small talk, but you seemed to be much more quiet than the other artists she'd modeled for. she liked that though, because she already knew it would be easy to make you squirm.

her eyes steadied themselves on your face. you were very focused on your work, she could tell by the involuntary frown on your face. when you looked up from your canvas you were met with a pair of green eyes staring directly at you. nervously, you tried to glance at a different part of her body, but that would betray you because the first thing your eyes landed on was her cunt.

you tried to cover up your action, but the sound of natasha's laugh indicated that she saw the whole thing happen.

"do you want a closer look?" her voice was raspy, causing you to freeze. "really, i don't mind. the second i saw your picture online i knew i wanted to fuck you."

you felt the air in your lungs leave your body. she stood up from her position and strutted her way into your personal space. natasha towered over you while you sat on your stool. she thrusted her hips lightly against your back so you knew she was in charge. it wasn’t long before her lips began to attack your neck. sloppy kisses littered the edge of your jawline, a generous specialty of hers.

"but the drawing, i haven't fin-"

"i don't care. now do you want me to fuck you in here or in your bedroom? i'd prefer the bed, but i could make eating you out on the couch doable."

your reply was stuck in the back of your throat, but you wanted her more than anything.

she traced the outline of your face before grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at her. "i don't have much patience and if you make me wait any longer, i'm going to punish you." natasha's eyes grew dark, completely different from the woman who initially walked through the door.

"bedroom," you squeaked, but before you could go to move natasha picked you up bridal style and carried you herself.

you almost regretted underestimating how strong she was by her petite frame. almost.

she placed you flat on your back and in an instant natasha had your clothes ripped from your body. "sweet girl, you won't know your own name by the time i'm done with you."

she tugged you closer to her so that she could prop both legs on her shoulders, keeping you wide and open just as she wanted.

natasha kissed the inside of your thighs as she worked her way up. your eyes screwed shut, and you found yourself fighting back the urge to moan.

the redhead wouldn't allow that though. she wanted to hear every noise you made slip from your mouth, and she would do anything to get what she wanted.

"open your eyes, let mommy hear those pretty little moans of yours."

she kitten licked the outside of your walls while massaging both of your breasts with her hands, occasionally twisting your nipples for extra stimulation. she dipped the tip of her tongue further into your pussy before retracting and going back to kissing your thighs.

"mommy," you whined.

you could feel natasha smile against your skin. "there you go, my love." you tried to grind your hips further onto her mouth by pushing upwards, but natasha's mouth quickly moved out of reach.

"ah ah ah, be patient. only good girls get what they want." you rolled your eyes and huffed, earning a loud slap to the side of your thigh. "do that again and your ass will be bent over my knee seven shades of red."

her glare went away as soon as she buried her face back between your legs. she was downright greedy, almost possessive over the gift between your legs.

natasha's role of being easy on you was put to an end. she shoved her tongue into your pussy, graciously accepting every inch you had to offer. seeing your back arch, hands balled into fists as they gripped the sheets, gave the redhead a sense of euphoria she'd never felt before.

"mommy please-"

"you're so beautiful when you fall to pieces." natasha purred. "aren't you glad mommy's taking care of you?"

your only response was a loud whine as her tongue flicked over your clit. "c'mon sweet girl, i know you can use your words."

"yes!" your voice was strained, a series of incoherent grunts and moans filling the room. natasha’s mouth covered the entirety of your pussy and her lapping only grew stronger the more you cried.

you clenched tightly around her tongue. your legs automatically reflexed to close, but that didn’t do anything for you except grant natasha deeper access into your cunt.

“m-mommy!” the feeling of natasha’s nails scraping the sides of your thighs was enough to let you know you could come. “mmm, that’s right baby. there you go.”

when she pulled away, you were greeted with the sight of natasha’s sticky, grinning face as she moved to sit on your stomach. she figured she could give you a small break before really fucking you senseless.

but that didn’t mean she would stop completely.

her hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing and pinching them again for extra stimulation. “you like that, don’t you baby?”

“yes, please, i want more!”

natasha giggled, mocking your pathetic pleas for her.

“not yet. don’t be the dirty little whore i know you are. now you’re going to lay here while mommy grinds on your stomach until she gets tired of it.” her hand offered a gentle squeeze around your throat.

“you’re going to have to draw me with my fingers shoved in your cunt before i let you cum again.” she taunted, slowly edging herself on your body. it wasn’t long before you began to feel her heat against your skin.

and truthfully, you’d draw whatever the hell she wanted you to just as long as she kept coming back.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov x reader #avengers x reader #smut #natasha x reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff smut

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shotorozu · 4 years ago

Text

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 [𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐜𝐬]

[ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ]

˚✧₊⁎ ★ 200 & 300 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑

legend : [Y/N = your name] quirk not specific, they/them pronouns.

notes : if i get the definition of flirting wrong, then IM SORRY NO ONE HAS SERENADED ME, AND NO ONE HAS EVER FLIRTED WITH ME?? so tbh idk.. anyway im still making a new fic WAXAXA, hawks’ entry is a lil short so.. I sincerely apologize for that-

fluff - mild spice :))

　　*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘆𝗮 𝗶𝘇𝘂𝗸𝘂

↠ man cannot flirt on command 💀 seriously, don’t ask him to because he will say some cheesy stuff. but he really could without even realizing it. one thing that catches you off guard is when he’s talking to you, then suddenly— his eyes drop to your lips, especially before you guys got together, and surprisingly! his eye contact game is 😳. after that, he’d be a little bit more bolder with his touches without even realizing it either so.. yeah. every day, he’ll whisper compliments into your ear— so you’d be the only one to hear them. also! he keeps extra hair ties if you need any, especially if your hair is on the longer side. it’s not a lot but !!

𝗯𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶

↠ he likes teasing you with love, pinching your cheek, etc. (but he will probably beat the shit/stare down anyone that does the same) but he always makes sure to check on you. he’s not the biggest on pda, yet he will sling his hand around your waist, and he’ll stare at you with love, and you’d only notice it. in private, he’ll put you on his lap, and pat your thigh, commenting how soft you are just to get you flustered. you guys compare hands a lot and it’s usually in silence— since he love bullying you out of love, he loves catching you off guard by dragging his hand down your back, tricking you that he’d do something more (unless.. you want him to,) only for him to draw his hand back ;) bakugou is a major tease lol.

𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗶 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗼

↠ okay so this man is the reason why i thought of this idea. it’s canon he writes letters, so.. LOVE LETTERS!! you should be honored— his letters are close to literature. anyway, if he sees your shoe laces are untied, he will bend down to tie them, doesn’t care when or where, he will do it for you. he links pinkies with you in public especially when he wasn’t comfortable with touch yet. he looks like the type that would just.. tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear (LOL IS THAT EVEN FLIRTING?? im sorry.) he will randomly hold your face in his hands and he will just stare at you, his stare is just full of love🤍. agh— i love him a lil too much.

𝗸𝗶𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝗮 𝗲𝗶𝗷𝗶𝗿𝗼𝘂

↠ if there’s another person that’ll shower you with compliments 24/7, it’s this guy right here. will always keep your bottle of water full so you don’t get dehydrated, and he’s also the type of boyfriend to just give you a massage, just because he can. he wouldn’t want his s/o to be sore! he will also learn how to do your hair, so if you don’t feel like it— he’ll do it himself :)) if you’re eating and you have something on your face, he’ll wipe it off with his thumb. kiri really likes giving you presents (bc he thinks it’s manly :))

𝗸𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶 𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗸𝗶

↠ cheesy puns are his trademark, especially if it relates to something relating to his quirk, or your quirk. your personal hype man, if you feel down— he’ll be the first person to tell you how beautiful you are, and he will shower you with compliments. his love language is sending you really random memes and tiktoks at 2am. he doesn’t do this to everyone bc he knows everyone will be really annoyed by this, but you’re special!! therefore, these memes are reserved for you :)) denki likes playing with ojiro’s tail, so with you— he’ll be tracing circles on your arm, running his finger up and down, while pinching soft skin. a bonus if you get easily flustered ;))

𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶

↠ if there’s anyone that just really likes staring at his s/o intensely, then it’s shinsou, todoroki, and bakugou. since he’s always staring at you— he will notice if you have an eyelash on your face, and he’ll take it off for you, while getting up close in your face. if you’re staring at him back, he’ll boop your nose and he’ll chuckle at your flustered reaction. like shouto, he likes tucking a stray hair behind your ear— and he’ll carry extra hair ties if you need any. he’ll probably pop in a flirtatious remark here and there though, since he kinda likes teasing you (but it’s very mildly though)

𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗼𝗺𝗮 𝗻𝗲𝗶𝘁𝗼

↠ again, another person that’ll tease you with love just because (especially if you’re from 1-A.) but surprisingly, sweet talk would be one of his best ways of flirting, since it catches you off guard quite often, and leaves you flabergasted. he’ll get real defensive if anyone else teases you though! monoma will definitely play footsie under a table with you just because he can, and it always manages to put a nice flustered look on your face. it’s adorable! like kiri, he also likes giving you small presents just because he believes you deserve it.

𝘁𝗼𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗼

↠ the best at sweet talking :)) mirio is really smooth with it, and originality? 10/10. since it’s quite canon that MIRIO TOGATA IS A FLIRT, anyhow- it’s reserved for you and you only. lingering touches also count, like if you’re passing something to him, his hand will linger on yours for a little longer, before smiling at your reaction. also another killer at the ‘flirtatious’ eyes thing, if there’s anyone else that can nail it, and practically make your heart skip a beat, then it’s him alright.

𝘁𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶 𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗷𝗶𝗸𝗶

↠ never ask him to flirt, just don’t. it’s kinda like izuku’s case but a lot worse. has to get talked into doing one of those cheesy pick up lines by mirio and nejire, but it never goes smoothly on command for him. anyway- on the brighter note, his touch subconsciously lingers a little bit more than usual, he doesn’t really notice it (don’t point that out please.) and he really likes feeding you in general, since his quirk heavily involves with food, it’s practically one of the few ways this shy boy can flirt.

𝗱𝗮𝗯𝗶 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗶 𝘁𝗼𝘂𝘆𝗮

↠ oh there’s a lot to say tbh. he’s definitely not shy/afraid of making sexual innuendos as a way of flirting, and his intense flirtatious stare is one of the many few ways he likes to show interest in you, if it would be intensely looking at your eyes with those intimidating cerulean eyes, or if it would be his eyes scanning over your figure and smirking. everything besides being not so pg, another way of him flirting is lingering touches. doesn’t care where or when, but you’ll catch him toying with your fingers.

𝗵𝗮𝘄𝗸𝘀 | 𝗸𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗮𝗺𝗶

↠ tbh everyone portrays hawks as this professional flirt, but in reality he’s probably the farthest from that, since he’s kinda a workaholic. but if you’re in a relationship with hawks- then that mean’s you’re special. will he sweet talk you? yeah, but it’s most likely full of bird puns anyway, but it’s the though that counts.

　　*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

likes and re-blogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing.

do not plagiarize my work :))

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

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Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Stressful week

Read on AO3 too!

Summary: Your favorite activity to relieve the stress of work after a tiring week.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut, explicit content, explicit language; switch/sub wanda; softdom/switch reader; age of ultron, Established Relationship.

Words: 1429k ( idk if this is short?)

For some reason I can't find fics where Wanda is a sub or switch (By the way, if anyone has any recommendations please send them to me) , so I decided to write my own. I hope someone enjoys reading this.

It was an exhausting week of work. Two reconnaissance and collection missions, plus intensive Avengers training, you were usually asleep before eight.

But the week finally came to an end, and you knew very well what you wanted to do when you got to your room in the compound.

You missed Wanda. Fuckin' terribly. With all the commitments, you only saw her once that week, briefly greeting each other after an emergency meeting of the whole team.

You took a quick shower, taking off your training clothes before going up to her room.

You didn't even have to knock, Wanda sensed your presence in the hallway and used her powers to open the door. You smiled to find her comfortably on her bed, wrapped in a blanket while watching one of her favorite sitcoms.

You flopped down on the bed next to her, making her laugh, as she made room for you to join her under the covers.

You closed your eyes almost instantly as you felt her stroking your hair.

- Baby, I'm so tired. - You softly commented, and Wanda lowered her face to give you a quick kiss on the forehead.

- You can sleep here, sweetheart. - She said in a tender tone that made you smile.

You got into bed, lying against Wanda who just waited for you to find a comfortable position. You chose to lie next to her, almost half your body on top of her. Interlacing your legs and burying your face in your girlfriend's neck, you enjoyed the warmth her body provided.

- I missed you. - You mumbled against her neck. - You smell good.

Wanda just let out an assenting noise, paying attention to the show.

You were feeling naughty, and began to kiss slowly against Wanda's neck. She shuddered when you placed a long kiss on the most sensitive point of the length, and you smiled against her skin.

- I thought you were tired. - She mocks, but you feel her squeeze your shirt tightly when you breathe in against her neck.

- I can stop. - You return the same tone, pulling your face away from Wanda's collarbone to look at her. The redhead merely denies it with a nod, and you return to your original position.

You don't do anything for a good few minutes. And maybe Wanda thinks you've fallen asleep. But then you lift one hand to her waist, and begin to run a single finger along her belly, bringing it to the path between her breasts. Your touch is slow and soft, and makes Wanda crave it.

- I heard that your last mission was a success. - You commented in a casual tone, as if you hadn't specifically asked Steve about Wanda.

Wanda grumbles in agreement, slightly distracted by your left hand which you have lowered to the bay of her blouse, slowly moving up the fabric.

- You've been quite a standout around here. - You comment, watching attentively as Wanda holds her breath when she feels your fingers running up against the skin of her belly. - You've been such a good girl.

Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, her breathing was heavy now. Your fingers finished reaching under her blouse, and slowly, you let them play with Wanda's exposed breasts. You bit your lips as you felt them harden, and looked at Wanda, who had her lips parted, but who still had her eyes on the TV. You wanted to laugh at her insistence on appearing in control, even though she trembled under your touch.

You spent a few minutes just touching the hardened nipples of Wanda's breasts. When she seemed to get used to the sensation, you grabbed one breast with your full hand and squeezed, causing her to sigh in surprise, entwining your legs even closer together. You knew that she was only looking for more friction.

You moved your fingers down again, and placed them on her thigh. Wanda instinctively spread her legs a little, and you just smiled at her tenderly and maliciously.

- Don't take your eyes off the TV. - you warned, deciding to play a little. If she wanted to watch the damn show so badly, she would watch it while you made her cum. - I don't want you to lose your precious sitcom.

You pinned last, and then your fingers went up again, silencing any response Wanda might have had. You reached into her pants, and you played against Wanda's pussy through the fabric of her panties. You felt her shiver, but she kept her gaze firmly on the series. You thrust your head back into her collarbone, letting out gasping breaths as you felt how wet she was for you.

You closed your eyes to enjoy the feeling of having Wanda in your fingers, and then you moved the fabric of her panties to the side, penetrating without warning.

Wanda let out a hoarse moan, and your body cringed before she jerked her hips toward you, begging for more. But you didn't feel generous, just slightly annoyed that your girlfriend had all of her attention on a stupid show. But Wanda was doing so well lately, you thought she deserved gentleness.

As slowly as possible, you began to move your finger just against her clit, and Wanda rolled her eyes in pleasure. She tried to move her hips to increase the speed, but you just moved your legs against hers, pinning her down.

You smiled against her neck as you heard her let out a deep groan, which matched the throbbing sensation you were feeling against your fingers.

- Babe, please. - she asked breathlessly. - More.

But you ignored her, and then you sank your finger against her soaked pussy, the sensation drawing a muffled sigh from both of you.

- You always feel so good, Wands. - You whispered against her skin. Your finger slowly burrowing deep and then slipping out and teasing her clit before slipping back in. - Always so wet for me.

- Fuck. - Wanda moaned, closing her eyes tightly, feeling your finger enter her again. You lifted your face to look at her, wanting to see her lose control.

- Now honey, open your eyes or you're going to miss the episode. - You teased.

- Please. Just... more... faster. - she begged between gasping breaths. You almost gave in, but then you felt her walls tightening against you and smiled. She didn't need any more.

- You're almost there, baby, can't you feel it? - You whispered against her ear. Your finger sank in once more, and you felt Wanda shiver as she brought her hands up to your shoulders.

You wanted her to cum so hard that you left her feeling aimless, so you didn't increase the speed, prolonging the feeling of being on the edge as long as possible.

You kept thrusting slowly, changing the rhythm between deep thrusts and teasing just the clit, Wanda seemed to love it both ways.

It didn't take long for her body to show how close she was, and you felt her walls closing around your finger, so you began to thrust deeper and slower, lingering inside her.

Wanda collapsed in your fingers a moment later, her body spasming as she bit your shoulder to suppress a scream. You waited until she stopped trembling before you withdrew your finger from her. You moved your hand up to your mouth and tasted Wanda on your tongue, delighting in the delicious taste as she looked up at you in wonder.

You smiled at her, giving her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, as you returned to your starting position hugging her, and burying your face in her neck. You could hear Wanda's heart beating fast, and you bit your lips to resist the urge to bite the point of her pulse.

It took a few seconds for Wanda to normalize her own breathing and stop shaking, but when she did, she changed the grip on your waist, causing you to let out a surprised sigh as she spun you around on the bed, getting on top.

- You were mean. - She whispered against your mouth, making reference to the delicious slowness of your touch. You flashed her a wicked smile as you extended your tongue to her lips, licking just once before pulling away, and causing her to close her eyes for a moment.

- Punish me then. - You retorted as you ran your shin up the length of Wanda's leg, and she looked up at you intensely.

- I will.

She said before closing the distance between you. You groaned knowing that this was the best way to relieve the stress of the week.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff x dom!reader #switch!wanda maximoff #softdom!reader #wandaxreader #wanda x reader

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writing-on-the-wahl · 4 years ago

Note

Okay, this one’s been done already by other blogs and I understand that not every writer wants to do the same prompt as another so if you’re not comfortable with this then absolutely stay in your comfy zone. I just think it’s fun to see different interpretations

But basically, Civilian is unknowingly dating Villain (as in, Civilian doesn’t know that villain is a criminal), and Villain is introduced to Civilian’s brother, Hero. Hero is terrified that Villain is going to hurt Civilian the entire time, but Villain just keeps on showing lots of sweet affection to Civilian (Hero and Villain recognize each other but Civilian is clueless of both their “jobs”). It’s up to you whether or not Villain actually loves Civilian or is just taunting/threatening Hero :)

Wow that was long my bad

Sorry this took me like twelve years to get to... @glowing-alpaca it won’t let me tag you... idk why🤷🏽‍♀️

Ok yes I’ve seen a few of these, so I took the general principle and made it Civilian’s POV eehehehe

hope you enjoy:)

*special thanks to @im-a-wonderling and @watercolorfreckles for the beta reads and all your amazing help on this one!!*

———————————————

Civilian shifted from foot to foot, rubbing her left wrist as she tried to focus on the conversation swirling around her. Her limbs felt lead-heavy and numb, deadweights that she wasn’t sure what to do with.

She clasped her hands together in front of her, then let them hang by her sides. Then clasped them in front of her again.

Her breathing felt loud in her ears, and a few of the patrons glanced in her direction. Could they hear her breathing?

Her eyes darted to the entrance for the hundredth time. Her brother was late. Hero had promised to be here early—he knew how she felt about crowds. And since he was the one who insisted her first art show be public, he’d reassured her he’d stay by her side the whole time.

The show had started over an hour ago.

“Well, Civilian?”

Her eyes snapped away from the door and back to the circle of patrons around her. Her stomach sloshed cold. They were all looking at her, their stares burning holes.

“Sorry? What was that?” Her stomach continued to twist and writhe. Now they all knew she’d been distracted.

Did they think she was ignoring them? Had she been rude?

She’d only glanced at the door for a moment…

An older man shook his head as his companion repeated her question about her choice to use different mediums to portray the same image.

She answered the best she could, gesturing to the wall beside her, which was filled with a dozen paintings and drawings of the cityscape—some created with ink, other with oil, acrylic, watercolor, or charcoal—she’d used them all.

She rubbed her wrist again as she tried to explain how she’d used the different mediums.

A few in the circle nodded their heads, but her heart was pounding and doubt nagged at her as she spoke. Was she talking too much? Not enough? Was what she was saying stupid?

She stumbled over her words, unease crawling beneath her skin.

She looked down, unable to complete her thought.

“I think it’s a marvelous technique.”

Hero looked up sharply as the deep voice continued, covering the awkward pause she’d created.

“...to get to look at a wall full of paintings, all capturing the same image but each conveying a different mood or emotion.”

Her rescuer was sharply dressed: his dark hair carefully styled, his suit perfectly tailored, and his gold watch designer. Combined with his confident posture, his appearance practically screamed “lawyer,” same as her brother. But while Hero was a public defense attorney, crusading against a flawed system, the man in front of her was probably what Hero would call a ‘leech,’ a rich defense lawyer catering to the criminal elite.

And while Civilian sympathized with Hero’s cause, she also had enough experience as a starving artist to appreciate the luxury of not having to worry about how much money she had to spend at the grocery store.

Plus, he’d been so kind to save her; how bad could he be?

Her rescuer was still speaking, his smooth words and confident tone confirming his profession.

“... the kind of art that needs to be seen and studied to be appreciated.”

At his hint, the crowd began to drift towards the gallery walls.

Her rescuer met her gaze through the crowd, and she offered him a small smile of gratitude as the people around her shifted away.

She turned towards the wall of cityscape paintings, breathing a sigh of relief before stopping to analyze one of the city in the rain. She eyed the brushstrokes, mentally smoothing a line here, adding a shadow there. She shook her head and turned away. Now was not the time.

But her rather abrupt turn sent her careening into a wall-like something that wasn’t a wall, but a certain tall lawyer in a thousand-dollar Armani suit. She jerked back, horrified at her lack of grace, but tripped on her blasted heels. Hands at her waist stopped her fall, long fingers tightening around her as she regained her balance. When she was finally steady, his hands slid away.

“Thanks.” Civilian forced herself to look up into the face of the man who had now rescued her twice, rather than looking around like she wanted to to check who else had noticed her embarrassing almost-fall.

He was smiling warmly, and for the first time all night, her heart wasn’t pounding at the thought of speaking with a stranger.

“I’m sorry for running into you.” She felt breathless, but it must have been from her almost-fall.

He waved her off. “I shouldn’t have been standing so close. I just wanted to compliment the way you’ve captured my favorite view of the city.” He gestured to the painting she’d just been critiquing.

“I painted it at the top of the—“

“Capitol building, yes I go there often.”

“Because you work there often?” Civilian flushed as she spoke across him, but her heart steadied as he didn’t seem to mind. His smile widened, and he leaned closer.

“What gave me away?” His voice was deep, and he looked at her as though they were sharing a secret.

Her cheeks grew warmer, and she looked away, heart racing for an entirely different reason.

“My brother is a lawyer, so I usually can just tell. He was supposed to be here actually…” a frown came to her face as she remembered her brother’s promise.

She shook herself out of her reverie. Her rescuer was looking at her warmly.

“I’m sorry! You rescued me back there, and I don’t even know your name…” She looked at him expectantly, and he offered a bright smile that made her stomach flutter.

“I’m Villain. Pleased to meet you.” His voice was practically a purr, sending tingles across her skin as he took her hand, gently raising it to his lips. She looked down as her cheeks heated at the old fashioned gesture.

“I’m Civilian,” she said as he released her hand, returning his bright smile with a shy one of her own. “Although you probably already knew that since my name is on the program...”

He nodded. “I have to say, I’m quite impressed by your—”

“Civilian!”

A blur in a tan suit darted around Villain and grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

“Hero, what?—” Her brother was a mess. His suit was wrinkled, tie coming undone, hair mussed.

He continued to pull her back, eyes on Villain. “Civilian I need to talk to you—it’s urgent!”

She glanced back at Villain as Hero tugged her away.

“Sorry!” She mouthed.

He just shook his head, an amused smile on his face, before mouthing something that looked suspiciously like, “I’ll see you later.”

Her heart warmed, and she was still grinning when Hero pulled her around the corner and flipped her around to face him.

“What are you—”

“Do you have any idea who that is?” Hero’s fingers gripped her shoulders. “What he is?”

“He said his name was Villain? And so what that he’s a lawyer, Hero. I don’t get why you are freaking out!”

Hero’s hands shook her shoulders. “He’s not just a lawyer, he—”

Civilian wrenched free and shoved Hero’s chest. “He what? Actually helped me? When YOU failed to show up like you promised.” Her last words slid into a growl.

Hero had the decency to look ashamed for a brief moment before his face hardened. He lifted a hand, gesturing with one arm back towards where they’d left Villain. “His people are the reason that I’m late!”

Anger sparked in her chest, and she rolled her eyes. “Sure,” she scoffed, “blame some random lawyer for your broken promise. That’s a pitiful excuse, Hero, even for you.”

She shoved past him, heading back into the gallery.

“Wait, Sis!” He grabbed her arm. She shook him off and stalked away.

But when she returned to the main room, Villain was gone.

#artist civilian #smooth villain #protective hero #villain x civilian #hero x villain #heroes and villains #my writing #snippet #write #writeblr #hero #villain

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shoutogepi · 4 years ago

Text

Catboy!Shouto

Todoroki Shouto

word count : ~2K (blurb!)

[ ☀︎ ] fluff!!

bio : general catboy!sho hc’s. initial meeting all the way to relationship.

author’s note : a midnight hc that got WAY out of hand. fair warning idk what the fUCK this is, whatever it is is all astrid’s fault. i decided to make this bc i suck at finding fics and i rly wanted to read something about a snuggly catboy!sho.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

in my opinion, shouto is already very catlike in certain respects.

he’s aloof and likes to watch rather than engage. he’s very intelligent and he’s driven when he wants to be. and not to mention he’s very loyal to those few that have melted through his ice-protected heart. he’ll probably also only allow physical interaction if he’s the one initiating it...

you didn’t adopt him in human form. at some point you got a cat and you thought that was it— that it was merely a cat. a cute one at that, split down the middle like a patched together hand-me-down. he reminded you of a ragdoll because of his peculiar colors, even though his coat was sleek and shiny. he also had a very prominent air of elegance... overall, a very pretty cat.

however, he wasn’t the nicest animal at first. he was skittish and guarded. he really only interacted with you in order to get food and water, and he didn’t allow you to touch him all too much. any time you had friends over there was no chance he’d be spotted, always hiding in the shadows of your closet or the safe space underneath your bed. when your company would leave, he would slowly crawl out, watching you from a respectable distance as you tidied up before heading to bed.

even though he was kind of a dick, you spoiled him silly. you bought him his own bed since he refused to even go near you. he had his own cat tree and everything, and ample toys too. that was how he first began warming up to you.

you had managed to pique his interest by dragging a ribbon toy across the floor and disappearing around the doorframe. you had been over the moon when he had poked his little head into the room, pupils wide as he eyed the ribbon with intense curiosity.

the morning after that, you had awoken to find him sitting on the very far corner of your bed. it was as far as he could possibly be from you while staying on the mattress, but you were elated nonetheless.

— - —

from then on, your relationship was a little steadier with the feline. he would follow you around your place, always in the same room as you but forever out of reach. occasionally he would allow you to give him a little scratch behind the ear or under the chin, but he would get up and leave after a few seconds of affection.

it wasn’t until he came down with a minor kitty cold that your relationship changed. you took him to the vet. he hated it. he was such a misbehaved boy, but when you had nearly cried as you frantically apologized for his behavior, he strangely became limp, a disgruntled expression on his cute little face.

you took him home and attempted to administer the medicine, even if he hissed and growled at you when you approached him with the distinct vial. you tried to give it to him, and he lashed out and scratched you for the very first time.

it was just a little cut, but it was enough to draw blood. you left the medicine with him and closed yourself away in the bathroom as you tended to your wound, irritated that after all you’d done for him he still treated you like shit. but he was a cat, you reckoned, and so you instantly dropped any malice that had come forth in those few minutes. when you opened the door again, he was sitting at the doorway, ears flat to his head and head lowered, the medicine vial resting before his paws.

after that he allowed you to administer the medicine without complaint. he just layed there and would blink lazily at you while you moved him accordingly, never fussing at all. it was clear that he was sick initially, but each time you gave him that medicine he became more and more like himself. he looked strong and healthy once again. you were relieved.

your relationship kept improving. he would now let you pet him from time to time. sometimes he would even jump up and settle himself into a little loaf next to you as you watched TV or typed away at your laptop. he began sleeping closer to you, sometimes on your feet, sometimes on the vacant side of your bed. the sound of his low purrs lulled you to sleep.

things started getting strange when you started going out with someone you had met. you’d given your number to them when they’d asked for it out of the blue. it was all very innocent, nothing too crazy. just a coffee here and there, really.

that was when shouto started becoming more affectionate with you. he would let out a loud meow in greeting when you came home, running to the door to meet you and promptly sticking his head into the shoes you slipped off your feet. he would sit with you as you went through the work you brought home, even nuzzle your ankles while you made yourself dinner. he would start to sit on your lap when you were watching the television.

he would even let you kiss his head , and he’d slowly blink at you when you praised him for all his handsomeness, for how good of a boy he was. he even started slipping into the sheets with you, allowing you to hold him close as you drifted off into slumber, and kneading at your blankets as the two of you fell asleep together.

but coffees turned into lunches. and lunches to dinners. you started spending less and less time at your place, and he would find himself watching the clock on the wall as he waited for your return. though when you finally would, later and later with each passing date, he was not pleased to find your scent mixed with another’s.

he had stayed in cat form for a very long time. perhaps he shifted into human form when you weren’t home, you didn’t know. you thought he was your cat, and that was the end of it. all you knew was that one morning, you woke up, expecting to have your snuggly companion curled up into your side as usual.

instead, there’s a whole ass MAN tucked into the sheets beside you, long leg slung over yours and his arm wound round your waist. what’s even wilder is that two cat ears stick out of the silky hair on his head, colored the distinct red and white of the fur you have become so accustomed to. a long, furry tail also rests on your thigh, brushing against your skin.

he’s also butt ass naked.

to say you’re shook is an understatement. thankfully he’s laying on his stomach, so you don’t see anything indecent. you weigh your options here— this man is so obviously your cat, there’s no way he’s not. but you have a cat, and this is a man!! man-cat? you can’t care to know the correct terminology.

you decide not to scream, but you shuffle backwards. it’s enough to disturb the creature, and his heterochromatic eyes peel open slowly. he sees you looking at him, and still weighed down by sleep, a mild, content smile curls his lips and a loud purr rumbles out of him. then his eyes move down and he catches sight of his own arm around you, and he scrambles off the bed, ears tucked back and tail bristling as he trips over the sheets.

after you find some clothes for him to wear, you have a rather awkward conversation over breakfast. turns out that he’s been capable of turning into this human form the whole time, but he had become accustomed to life as a cat and preferred it to being a human, as he had a hard time fitting in with his big ears and long tail. you reckoned you, too, would live as a cat if you had the option... especially with such a doting and caring owner as yourself.

now though, you can’t really refer to yourself as his owner. he’s a person, just like you— he just harbors many of his cat-like qualities.

initially it’s hard to adjust, knowing he’s also a man (and a very handsome one, at that). you buy him some clothes and start to cook meals for the both of you. what else are you gonna do, throw him out onto the street?

your interactions become a little forced... you’re just really confused as to how you’re supposed to act around him. he seems to sense your unease, and he shifts back into a cat in order to comfort you. he walks right up to you and hops into your lap, standing up to put his front paws onto your chest, and leaning in to rub his cheek across yours, finishing off with a quick lick of affection.

apparently, he has missed the attention the both of you had become so accustomed to giving/receiving. so, the moment you hesitantly begin to rub his ears, he starts to purr loudly, settling on your lap/chest. he’s really warm and soft, so you end up wrapping your other arm around him and continuing to pet his head.

it becomes routine for you to have this nightly cuddle before bed, but after you’re finished with pretending to pay attention to the tv, you tell him goodnight and shut yourself into your bedroom for the night.

no longer does he receive your praise nor your kisses, and it’s taking a toll on him. he’s needy!! you’ve conditioned him to soak up all your love and now you just stop?

so eventually he’ll sack up and knock on your door, asking why you won’t let him sleep with you anymore. he knows you’re intimidated by his human form, but he thinks the reason is because you’re scared of him. you hesitantly let him know it’s really just because you’re attracted to him. and what do ya know, he feels the same.

another reason why you’d been avoiding him that you’d rather die than tell him is that you’re embarrassed that you just straight stared at him in shock when he used your toilet like a human. eye contact and everything. this was back when you’d first gotten him but now you’re just overwhelmed with residual embarrassment LOLLLLL anyways...

from there your love blossoms !! yay!

now he will walk around your place in his human form more often than cat form. though sometimes he does like to be in kitty form so he can sit on your lap while you’re working at your desk.

snuggles become a norm. he’s very affectionate. absolute cuddle bug.

stressed? cuddles.

happy? cuddles.

bored? cuddles.

i cannot emphasize this enough!!! hold him!! he lives for it! he is baby.

he still loves playing with all the toys you buy him. and what’s hilarious is that he can’t seem to help himself from fixating on those little aluminum twist ties that you keep in the kitchen. he doesn’t know why, but when you toss them across the room he’ll just run for it. nyoom!!

makes sure to bring it back like a good boy every time.

a really good investment is a laser pointer. human or cat, once that little red dot is spotted, you can bet he’s chasing it. this has resulted in broken furniture more than once LOL. at the end of your little play session you guide the laser over to you and he’ll pounce on you!! cue more cuddles.

as if all the snuggles he gives you through the day aren’t enough, falling asleep is complete bliss.

he’ll slip into your covers and wrap his long limbs around you. lithe fingers will caress your skin and your hair, and if you return the favor, he’ll start to purr softly for you. he’s totally into nuzzling you, too. he’ll just nestle his face right into your neck and breathe your scent in, completely at peace. and he can’t help it when his purrs grow louder, an indication of his complete content.

more rarely he’ll come out into public with you, provided he wear a beanie or something to cover those cute perky ears of his. the tail he can tuck into his pants just fine. when he’s out and about with you, he’ll likely stay right by your side, an arm over your shoulder, around your waist, or your hand held hostage by his.

when you’re out on these rare excursions, he will often ask for a boba or a latte—he loves to indulge in those sweet milky drinks every now and then. plus it makes him happy when you’re happy, and you always get excited when you get one for yourself too.

overall 10/10 would recommend adopting catboy!sho. he will give you all the love and snuggles necessary and he’ll be more than happy to accept your affections too.

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

so... can you guys tell i’m a cat person?

(づ｡◠ ‿ ◠｡ )づ <3 <3 <3

➥ masterlist thanks for reading!! hope u enjoyed whatever... this was LOL

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

#todoroki shouto fluff #todoroki shoto fluff #todoroki shouto fic #todoroki shoto fic #mha fluff #mha fic #bnha fluff #bnha fic #bnha hc #mha hc #todoroki shouto hc #todoroki shoto hc #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #cat boy todoroki #cat boy shouto #my fics

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petewentztiddies · 4 years ago

Text

Mon Cala Nights | Anidala

A Prequel To I’m Feelin’ You

Summary: Tonight, they could take their time. Tonight, they weren't General Skywalker and Senator Amidala - they were just Anakin and Padmé.

Warnings: Smut, sub!Ani, dom!Padmé, an eensy weensy bit of angst(?)

authors note: aisjdhf this fic was literally inspired by this gif so uH <3

"I've missed this, Ani," Padmé whispers.

Anakin nods. "I know what you mean, Padmé. It's been torture being around you and having to pretend like we're...friends," he spits out the last word as if it's something distasteful.

"I'm here now. We're here together." She assures him, cupping his cheek. "I've missed you."

Anakin rests his forehead against hers, letting out an audible sigh. "I know. I’ve missed you too."

"Maybe one day..." she closes her eyes. "Maybe one day we can be more than just...stolen moments." she trails off.

Anakin sucks in a deep breath. "Soon, Angel. Someday we won't have to hide..." he assures her, pressing his forehead to hers. "Someday..."

"With the way this war is going, I don't think that'll ever happen." Padmé whispers, almost inaudibly.

She pulls back and takes him in, once again, staring into those blue eyes that pierce her very soul. He looks so weary, exhausted. There is nothing there, in those brilliant blue eyes, not even the light he's grown accustomed to seeing in them...nothing.

"Maybe when everything is over, we can...be together," he says, frowning. "I'm not saying maybe everything is going to be okay, I'm saying, maybe we can do more than...this."

She grins despite herself. "So you're saying being in my bedroom isn't enough for you?"

He laughs. "Don't worry, it is. Trust me."

"I always have." she replies. She kisses him gently on the lips.

Their gentle kisses steadily grow more fervent, and before they both know his shirt is off and she's straddling him.

"Padmé... could you- would you-" he struggles to ask.

She simply smiles at him, running her fingers through his silky hair.

"These walls aren't that thick, Ani, so I hope you're quiet," Padmé says. "If you get too loud, I'll stop." She informs him.

Anakin nods frantically. "Okay. Yes, fuck-"

She runs her hands across his sculpted abdomen, tracing a fairly fresh scar, making his breath hitch.

She missed this, missed the feeling of his skin. It's been at least a few months since she's been able to get any real alone time with Anakin. Her last night with him was a rushed, adrenaline-filled night under the stars; a few stolen moments amongst war and soldiers and secrets.

“What’s this from?” she inquires absentmindedly.

He pauses, trying to recall. “I- ah, Trandosha, maybe?”

Tonight, they could take their time. Tonight, they weren't General Skywalker and Senator Amidala - they were just Anakin and Padmé.

"Let me see you," Padmé whispers, an almost desperate edge to her voice.

"Yes." He lifts his hips and she slides her hand under the waistband of his pants and pushes them to his knees. He kicks them off impatiently, leaving him bare before her.

"Good boy, Ani." She murmurs appreciatively, lowering her head to him.

Only a few months ago, she felt Anakin's lips on her, once again. It was a fleeting thing, stolen by time and circumstance. But now, here he is, and she's taking her time.

She felt the need to study him as though she had never seen a man naked before. "So perfect. My Ani," she whispers reverently, running her hands along his torso, his strong thighs, his perfectly hard cock.

"Padmé…" he whines.

"Shh…" Padmé tells him, closing her fingers around his hard cock and gripping him. "Let's see how long you can last without making noise."

She drops to her knees before him and takes him into her mouth. Her tongue flicks across the head, the tight underside of his cock. She runs her hands along his thighs. She has a new appreciation for his body laterally, the way his muscles move beneath his skin, the way his legs look strong and graceful.

She draws him in, her hands gently guiding him into her mouth, to her throat. She had always enjoyed this, the feeling of having him in her mouth, the slide of his skin over her tongue.

Anakin hisses. "Padmé-!"

She knew he would make some sort of noise at some point - Anakin was a vocal person in the bedroom.

"Ah, ah, Ani. Remember the rules." Padmé tuts.

Anakin whines at the loss of contact. "Wait, no!" He almost shouts. "Please, don't stop."

"Ani, Ani. I can't help you if you're just going to keep making noise," Padmé taunts him as hands passively rest on either of his thighs.

"Stop teasing me, Padmé." He complains, thrusting his hips forward in an effort to regain contact.

"Shh…" She rises and presses her lips to his.

His mouth is desperate under hers. His tongue slides against hers, his body moving to press himself against her.

They part, and she stares at him. Her ringlets of hair are beginning to work out of the neat bun on the back of her head. She reaches up, and removes the hair tie, allowing her hair to fall down around her face, turning the style from prim to disheveled.

Anakin smirks, appreciating the change in her. "I love the way your hair looks when it's down,"

She kisses him again, feeling Anakin tug at the clasp on her bra. She breaks off their kiss while he continues to tug on her bra, not wanting to lose contact for a moment.

She reaches up and unclasps the bra, allowing it to fall away, and feels Anakin's hands immediately dive into her breasts. His fingers trace circles around her nipples, pulling lightly. "Yes, Ani. Good boy," Padmé moans.

His hands cup her breasts again, pulling them together, pinching lightly.

Padmé moans into his mouth, feeling his tongue in her mouth again, his hands squeezing again, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

Anakin's hands were on her breasts, on her sensitive nipples, his tongue in her mouth.

This was what she had missed. This was what she wanted. They had something special, something that made them both feel alive.

She groans softly, shifting so that the only thing between her and Anakin's cock was her underwear. She wanted him inside of her. Knowingly, he reaches down and grabs her underwear, pulling it off of her.

"Please, Padmé, will you ride me?" He asks.

She nods. "Of course," She straddles him, and sinks down, he groans in appreciation. She hisses for a moment, it always felt so good, him filling her with his girth. Her hands run over his chest again, tugging lightly on his nipples.

"Padmé-!" He gasps.

She quiets him with a kiss, setting a quick pace, pushing herself down against his cock, feeling him pulse against her walls, relishing in the fullness.

One of her hands goes to softly rest on his stomach, feeling his muscles tense as he thrusts slightly, and deeply into her.

Padmé runs her hands along his chest, feeling his muscles, feeling his heartbeat, runs her hands over the skin on his wonderfully defined chest. She stops at his abdomen, leaning down to kiss him once again. She feels herself tightening around him, moving her hips to ride him. He moves his hips up, pushing himself as deep inside of her as possible, then pressing himself back down.

Padmé shudders. She grips his forearms, burying her head against his neck. Her hips rock forward and back, sped up on every forward thrust. She can feel herself on the edge, Anakin's cock rubbing along her walls.

She can feel her orgasm beginning, feels her muscles tighten, feels the pleasure rushing through her.

"Don't stop, Padmé. Don't stop, don't stop," he begs.

For every one of his pleas, his thrusts become more determined, his hips moving towards her, pushing himself inside her. He moans quietly, fingers digging into her flesh. She lets go, her back arched, moving up and down along his body. She thrusts against him, feeling him fill her more than she had thought possible. Her hips move forward, pushing herself against him, feeling the skin on his stomach against her, feeling the head of his cock hit her g- spot.

His hands are on her hips, her back is arched, her hair is falling around her face.

"Padmé, I'm gonna-"

He shudders, a wordless cry escaping his lips as he empties himself inside her.

Padmé curses, feeling her own orgasm approaching, and with it, she feels herself clamp around him, milking his cock, grinding herself against him.

When she thinks she can move, she rolls off of him, laying so that she's facing him. His fingers trace along her cheek, combing through her hair.

"I don't want to fall asleep," she sighs. "We never have enough time together."

"I know," he whispers. "I love you."

"I love you too," she responds. "I'm sure it won't be too long until we see eachother again..."

"I don't think I have to be back until later in the morning. Maybe we can sleep in," he suggests.

"Or...we can go to sleep now and have an early morning," she smirks.

He snickers. "I was just about to say that."

----------

a/n yeah idk I was trying to get a more like, different vibe for them than my x reader fics skdjjflsjdg like y'all know how they act in the movies ya feel

#anakin skywalker #smut #jo's writing #anidala #padmé amidala #padme amidala #smut fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anidala smut #anidala fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #star wars smut

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erectionsandtea · 4 years ago

Text

Roller rink skate date headcanons! (poly party) insp. by this post, for @mike-wheeler-is-gay (I know you wanted byler specifically and I usually write poly party, but I tried to stick some extra byler in here for you, I hope I did it justice and that you like it!)

So many paragraphs this should really just be a fic, I'm sorry

- Mike is super tall and gangly is absolutely the worst skater in the party (tied only with Lucas, who put on his very first pair of skates and promptly fell on his face and they weren't even on the rink yet, they were still on the carpet area)

- the moment Mike steps into the actual skating floor, he falls bc he's tall gangly uncoordinated Mike, and Will is just standing there rolling his eyes, like "babe, you're a mess" but he doesn't mind bc it means he gets to hold Mike's hand (and hold Mike in general) while he helps his bf balance and skate

- and Mike is like "I don't deserve you, why are you even with me, I'm so awkward" (poor self deprecating bby), and you know Will would respond with "are you kidding, you're amazing, why are YOU with ME?" (also a self deprecating bby), but then he falls and pulls Will down with him (aka on top of him lol)

- and they laugh, and just as their lips touch, the moment is ruined by Max zooming in their direction screaming "get up before you get run over!!" And she manages to avoid them (being the zoomer that she is) but Lucas has to swerve and falls the fuck over ofc (luckily the rink isn't super crowded that day so nobody's in any real danger)

- and Dustin is looking at byler like "this isn't even that hard guys, come on, are you even trying??"

- El and Will have totally been going to the rink (sibling bonding yo) and everyone realizes that's how they got so good bc El is totally the best skater in the group

- except for Suzie who is a skating queen

- El and Suzie totally having races from one end of the rink to the other

- Max totally joining them and they let her win, just once

- Dustin joining them and after he wins twice in a row (pure luck), Max and El pretend cross his path and bump into him, totally fucking him up, and Dustin's just like "are you shitting me?" (but it's all in good fun, everyone knows that)

- El and Max holding hands as El helps her get better at skating, bc Max is decent on skates but better on her skateboard (bc how do you wheels on both feet separately ??) (like skiing vs snowboarding)

- byler doing that thing where holding hands facing each other, and Mike learning how to actually move his feet and skate forward, and that's propelling Will backward (and Will constantly throwing praise at him and Mike grinning so big bc he's doing it! lol)

- Will and Mike holding hands as they slowly skate around the edge of the rink

- Mike needing to stop a moment and grab the wall to keep himself up and steady, and Will coming around in front of him, his hands over Mike's,and they stand there all adorable and then kisses (except Mike has to duck down bc Will cannot stand on his tippy-toes in skates)

- eventually Mike is like "I need a break" (from falling and stuff, tho he has gotten better) and he goes to sit down

- and then El comes over to join him bc "you looked lonely" (he isn't really lonely, he just kind of has a resting bitch face sometimes, tell me I'm wrong, am I actually wrong tho ??)

- they sit together in silence, watching the rest of the group playing some weird skate-tag game (rules at the bottom)

- Mike is watching Will with a smile on his face, laughing and having fun, and he says to nobody, really "what did I ever do to deserve him?"

- El replies "probably whatever I did to deserve you" and they look at each other and smile and then cute lil Mileven kiss

- their hands reach over (cos they are sitting like RIGHT next to each other, no space)

- they continue to sit there, hands clasped, her head on his shoulder, watching the group and sometimes making comments to each other and laughing

- after a while Will comes over to check on his bf and sis) ("I don't know which is more bruised, my knees or my ego" -> Mike, "you're doing really well!" -> El), which is actually kind of nice for El bc she wants to go skate some more but she doesn't want to leave Mike by himself

- before she leaves tho, she wants a kiss, so still holding Mike's hand she gets up and wheels around to face him and grabs his other hand and is like "I want a kiss" bc she's just blunt like that (it's a good thing)

- and mike laughs at her bluntness bc SO CUTE, and so Mike gives her one of those super cute kisses where he puts his hands on the sides of her face, you know? And she has to balance herself by putting her hands on his knees (Sorry, I just had to get a Mileven kiss in here)

(so much detail in those moments ^ I'm...sorry?)

- so Will sits there with Mike, and they hold hands and share kisses and say cute sweet things to each other, and honestly they spend more time looking at each other than anyone/thing else

- Will goes and buys them one giant drink to share bc boys gotta stay hydrated (can someone please draw this or maybe ALL of this idk ??)

- the rest of the group annoys them (but not really) by hanging over the wall and saying "AWWW" super loud and making kissy faces

- and then El comes back over later and says "okay, that's enough sitting down, we're going back skating, come on" and she grabs Mike's hand and Will's hand and tries to pull them up but it's hard bc wheels (like she's about to slip and the boys have to grab her arms to catch her), but the boys comply and go back to the rink floor

- Dustin and Suzie can totally do skate-dancing, whatever that is (and they totally get applause)

- Max skating by everyone so many times and being like "zoomer!" and everyone is like "pls stop, we get it"

- Dustin trying to tell help Lucas how to skate by actually explaining how the skates and the rubber stoppers work, and Lucas not getting it and just being like "can you explain in English please??" And Dustin throws his hands up like "I fucking give up, you're hopeless"

- Max learns how to skate in a small circle (basically just turning around without stepping) and she's super fucking proud of herself and does it constantly

- Max eventually needs to be stopped by El and Lucas bc "babe, you're gonna get so dizzy" (you can decide who says that 😊) but it's too late bc she's already dizzy

- Lucas and El lead Max off the rink floor and she just immediately falls down to sit on the carpet bc so dizzy and El falls down next to her bc hand holding (she gets pulled), and Lucas sits down too

- the girls can't stop laughing and Lucas is looking at them like "tf is wrong with you guys?" (but not really), also he's just smiling at them and laughing with them bc goddamn they are so cute, his girlfriend is the most beautiful girl in the world and seeing her as she is right now just inflates his heart

- eventually Max can't stay upright so she lies back and El follows her and they are just lying there together (Max on her back, El on her side facing Max, no space), giggling so hard, they can't stop laughing for some reason (I think it's bc when one laughs, it makes the other laugh too)

- Max is like "you, boyfriend, kiss" and so Lucas complies

- an employee has to come over and say "you can't lie down here, it's a safety hazard" and Lucas is like "we're sorry, sir" and he's like "babe, we gotta move"

- so he gets the girls up and they bring max to a bench where she can sit, instead of sitting tho, she lies down again, on the bench with her head in El's lap, and then elmax kisses as El plays with her hair

- El and Max basically take over the bench that Mike and Will were sitting on, and they also steal the boys' giant drink (barely a quarter empty) cos hydration

- Will and Mike trying to kiss while not holding the wall, but fucking down AnD having his eyes closed throws Mike way off balance bc what a klutz, and then he falls and Will is fuckin laughing and he feels bad but also it's funny

- so then Will gets down too (more gracefully but lbr, anyone can be more graceful than Mike, without even trying) and is like "it's okay, we can do this here" and then sitting kisses

- El trying to help Mike but she's having too much fun and ends up just speeding around while Mike tries to catch up with her, and she has to keep going back for him

- Mike feeling kind of embarrassed bc his gf is amazing while his own skating is questionable, and he confides this to her and is like "why are you with me, I'm so clumsy and awkward" (self deprecating again), but El makes him feel better by telling him that she's with him bc she loves him and actually she thinks it's kind of cute that he's not that good at skating and she likes being the one who helps him for once (bc he's helped her for so long with so much)

- and then Mike gives her one of his lil mike-smiles (you know the one I mean, like the one right after he kisses her for the very first time, in season 1)

- and then a Mileven kiss, but Mike almost loses his balance again like he did with the byler kiss, but El can sense it's about to happen and has to break their kiss to hold him up (she's holding both his hands, fingers intertwined), but it's okay, they just smile at each other share a little laugh at the situation and how uncoordinated he is, and they scoot their skates really close together in a sort-of huh type thing

- arcade games after!! (But I'll put that in its own separate post 😄)

- rules to the weird skate-tag game: 1) the wall is the safe zone, but you can only stay there for 10 seconds at a time 2) you cannot untouch the wall for one second and then go back to touching it for 10 seconds, you have to actually leave the wall and skate (HOWEVER you can try to skate from the wall on one end of the rink to the wall at the other end) 3) you are allowed to skate around the edge while touching the wall, as long as you only do so for no more than 10 seconds 4) whoever is 'it' cannot hover around those on the wall 5) crashing into someone does not count as tagging them 6) no tag backs

I tried to get equal parts of all the ships in this one but I know I failed miserably, I'm so sorry lol (clearly you can tell who I ship the most)

If you want to add more (I will if I think of any), send me ideas, or request anything, please feel free! 😀👍🏻

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daryldixonsdoormat · 3 years ago

Text

Damn Vines

Steve Harrington reaction to you “dying”.

Upset but also pissed off. He's mad at the world for taking you someone who he thinks has done ‘no wrong’. There are so many emotions coursing through his head that he can't pick one to focus on. So there's a bunch of switching. He would start off at your side caressing your face begging you to wake up and not to ‘leave him like this’. And then when your eyes close for a moment too long Steve is half screaming half whispering(if that makes sense). His hands are shaking really bad when he touches them to your face again searching for any signs of life. He gets pissed when he sees the rest of the group standing around you silently crying. Steve is yelling profanities at everyone gesturing towards you asking them why they aren't doing anything to help you. He pulls at his hair when angry and kicks things in his general line of fire. He would be shattered because when he loves he loves hard.

Small example idk what to call it (under this)

“Baby, you have to wake up. Don’t leave me.” this is the most distress he's ever been in. He spends almost every moment thinking about you just for it to end so quickly. Your laying on the floor of the trailer in the upsidedown blood pouring out of your stomach from being stabbed by an unfriendly ‘vine’. Your pulse is still there but how was Steve supposed to know that? No one here knew that you were alive and just in a severe amount of pain from the two-inch puncture wound. You can feel the faint touches on your face from Steve as he asks you brokenly to wake up for me. “Please, please, please wake up. Wake up for me darling” it takes too much strength to reply the most you can do is a twitch of your fingers that no one notices. Steve stands up ridding you of the comforting and much-needed touch. “You're just gonna fucking stand there?!” he yells at everyone looking back at you tears still rolling down his cheeks. He chuckles in sadness/anger/disbelief at the silence. He shakes his head before kneeling back down next to you kissing your forehead and putting you through the gate. The impact sends a painful jolt through the puncture, drawing out a weak groan from your lips. Steve's eyes are wide when he drops through the gate landing almost on top of you. He gets on his knees frantically calling out your name looking around to make sure everyone has heard the same thing. Dustin nods to his nervously biting his nail watching steve try and wake you. Steve orders everyone around sending Lucas for a first aid kit, Dustin to get rags, and for nancy and robin to hold you down. Steve lifts up your shirt looking at your face still questioning if this was real or his imagination. He kisses your stomach before slowly stitching you up to the best of his ability. Halfway through the stitches you groan again snapping your eyes open confused. Steve points to Nancy directing her to continue the stitches. His eyes start watering up now fully registering that you are still alive and with him. Steve grabs one of your hands and places it on you're cheek squeezing his eyes shut relishing in the feeling.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #season 4 spoilers #stranger things season 4 spoilers #i <3 steve harrington

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supremeinlilac · 4 years ago

Text

Count (NSFW)

Pairing: Pre Apocalype!Wilhemina x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3125

Warnings: Caning, bondage, slight degradation(?), just filth I guess

A/N: This is my first time writing anything nsfw (i wrote it before mirror, mirror), so please let me know if there’s anything I can do to improve it. I’m a whore for constructive criticism :)

Tag list idk?: @extraordinarilycelestrial

Anger bubbled through your body as you trampled through the gate at the front of the house you shared with Mina. The porch lights were on, meaning she was already home, despite having left work about an hour after you to catch up with work in the quiet of her office . Jeff and Mutt had been at you all day, chipping away at your patience as you tried your hardest to ignore their stares and inappropriate comments and complete the report you were currently working on.

They had continued even after your polite remark insinuating that you had a lot of work starting to catch up to you, and that they had caught you at the worst possible moment. Mocking and teasing “oooooohs” followed you when you finally slammed your hands firmly onto your desks and asked through gritted teeth that they let you be.

Usually you would relax with Wilhemina over lunch and bitch to her about them and their intolerable attitudes, but today she had been extremely busy as well and kept her office door locked the whole day, much to your disappointment. You found your lunch with a hastily scribbled note that read: when your periods finished, I’ll help relieve that tension you have going on,, J which you scrunched up and tossed in the general direction of the bin, huffing and clenching your jaw to stop yourself from marching over to where the pair of them were sat, mouths set in smug grins watching you from across the room, and slapping one of them across their faces.

To top off all that shit, your car had broken down 10 minutes away from your house on the drive back, which was a 30-minute walk back in the biting wind. Without, unsurprisingly at this point, your coat, which you’d left in the office in your haste to leave. You had no choice but to do just that as your phone decided that today would be the day it would give up on life and refuse to turn on.

Long story short, you’d had just about enough.

You dropped your keys trying to find the right one that would open the front door. You audibly exhaled in a loud impatient groan, wanting nothing more than to collapse onto your bed and lie there until the anger dissipated. Slamming the door closed behind you and throwing your bag down beside the coat rack, you ran your fingers through your hair before stomping up the stairs, ignoring the call Wilhemina gave you from the kitchen.

Flopping down on the bed, you released a long yell that was muffled by the pillows your face was buried in. Still feeling anger after the first yell fell short, you allowed yourself a second scream, hands in your hair now, bunching at the scalp, so unbelievably pissed off that you failed to notice the door click softly closed behind you.

“And just what do you think you are doing?” her voice cut through the silence which now hung in the bedroom, making you jump but remain in the same position, now sulking at your unfortune of the past 8 hours. “Where have you been?” she spoke again, ignoring your lack of response at her first question. Her fingers drummed impatiently on her cane, which was clutched tightly between her two hands; her lips drawn tightly together as she rigidly stood and observed you on the bed.

You decided in that moment that you needed something to take your mind off the day you’d just had, so you clenched your jaw shut and closed your eyes, smirking into the pillow. You knew what you were doing to the older woman stood by the door, but you were in one of your moods, and feeling far to stubborn to give her the satisfaction of your submission.

Wilhemina’s eyes narrowed as she slowly advanced towards the bed, cane tapping threateningly. “Don’t you dare be bratty with me Y/N, don’t think I won’t punish you simply because you’ve had a bad day. Now I’ll give you one more chance to tell me what has got you so annoyed”. You slowly turned around from your position on the bed, a heat settling in your stomach at her tone as you faced her, legs crossed and an innocent smile on your face as you remained silent.

She didn’t even give you time to be surprised, a single yelp escaping your mouth as she lurched forward, gripping your jaw in her hand bruisingly and forcing your head up to look at her. She wore a smirk that made the heat fall straight to your centre, making you overly aware of the throbbing now between your legs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you pet” her thumb brushed your lower lip and you eagerly took it into your mouth, suckling on it and watching her eyes with your own. Removing it, she wiped it off on your cheek before tutting loudly, “take your clothes off; leave your panties on”.

Your brattiness now long forgotten, you scrambled off the bed in your haste to please the woman before you. The incessant tapping of her cane spurred on your actions, clothes discarded as you stumbled around before standing patiently beside her, arms by your side, the cold of the room prickling your skin as you shivered under her gaze.

She leisurely walked around your fidgeting form, nails dragging across the skin of shoulder behind her before she stopped behind you. You fought the urge to turn to face her, feeling her breath lingering on your shoulder. She deliberately smoothed her flat palms up and down your arms, chuckling at the involuntary reaction your body has at her touch. Leaning forwards and bringing your earlobe between her teeth, she pulled slightly and you couldn’t help the soft moan that left your lips at her action.

As soon as her touch came, it was gone. “Bend over the edge of the bed, hands behind your back.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument on your part, as you did as she requested, sinking to your knees and lowering your torso onto the bed, your bottom up in the air. You felt something smooth and cold slip round your wrists, a ribbon most likely, and restrain your wrists tightly together. Her movements paused, allowing you to test the bonds which failed to give when you tried to escape them.

“Is that okay babygirl?” she checked, stroking your cheek lovingly waiting for your response. When you gave her the go ahead, nodding and letting out a breathy “yes”, she allowed herself to slip back into dominance. Pacing back and forth, she allowed you to suffer in the anticipation for a while, until you whimpered and fidgeted where you lay. “I’m going to give you 10 spanks” she paused, her smirk growing watching you tense, “with my cane. And you’re going to count for me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and slight fear; she’s never used her cane on you before, only ever using it as a threat when you were pushing your luck and being too bratty for her liking. You couldn’t lie, the thought had also aroused you to no end, being punished with the very thing she relied on so heavily; but you knew Mina was never soft with her punishments. “But you’ve never used the ca-” she cut you off quickly, not in the mood for any backchat now she’d made up her mind what you deserved.

“Do I need to gag you baby? Or are you going to be a good girl for me and be quiet?”

Her sweet, mocking tone made you squirm under her gaze, you shook your head against the sheets. You didn’t want to exacerbate your punishment further, not that you ever held your bratty attitude long when in her commanding presence. Mina smiled, she loved that you so quickly fell in line for her, allowing her as much of the control and power she seeked.

“No, we couldn’t have you gagged could we? Then I wouldn’t be able to hear you counting little one. You will count for me won’t you?” you whimpered, eyes finding hers over your shoulder as she closed in. “I always loose count otherwise, and I’d hate to have to start again” she drawled, the corner of her mouth twitching as she raised her chin, eyes not leaving yours.

“I’ll count” you gasped, her hands coolly massaging your shoulders, drawing out the suspense of the impending caning. She knew full well what she was doing, confident that her patience could hold out extensively, all while you would get impossibly worked up and needy.

“Good girl.” Patting your shoulder, she withdrew her hands and returned behind you, out of your line of vision.

She brought the cane down onto the skin where your thigh met the curve of your ass, your body jolting forward unexpectedly, and you gasped at the feeling, which at first felt hot, blood rushing to the site before the twinge of pain kicked in. “One” you spoke confidently, cheeks flushed as you found yourself eager for her to bring the cane down on you again.

She paused, allowing the anticipation to hang heavily in the air as she ran a single finger slowly down your spine, revelling in how your body shivered under her light touch. She waited just long enough for your guard to come down and you to let out a small breath of relief, before swinging her cane back down onto your cheeks, wood biting at the skin as you let out a yelp of surprise.

Your voice was more raspy this time, the number spoken quickly, your arms straining against their confines, aching to soothe the skin that were now hot where she had landed the strikes. After the third hit, you couldn’t help the shame that ebbed at your mind that you were involuntarily enjoying Wilhemina punishing you; almost as much as she was turned on by the power you allowed her to hold over you. The coupled feeling of both pain and pleasure sent sparks of electricity through your body, as if suddenly being lit by a flickering flame.

Four and five came down on your skin in the exact same place as the third, catching the raw line that marred the skin of your butt and eliciting a hiss from your lips. You counted, voice smaller now as you bit your lip to avoid unwarranted sounds from escaping. The sixth hit was the hardest so far, and your hips bucked backwards involuntarily, not going unnoticed by the older woman who’s eyes darkened and a smirk graced her lips. You weren’t expecting your girlfriend to use such force; or the fact that this was turning you on more than you ever thought it would. Your vision was starting to cloud at the sensation, mind hazy as you focused on the deep throb between your legs.

Her nails digging slightly into the tender flesh of your ass was the only reminder you needed, choking out a strangled “six” before returning to biting the sheets beneath your head. All you could concentrate on was the feeling of yourself trickling shamelessly down the inside of your thigh, praying to god that Mina couldn’t see how this was affecting you. “That was your last warning sweetheart” she cooed, cool palms soothing the sore flesh beneath them in slow rubs.

The final four strikes came in quick succession, Mina not even giving you time to compose yourself in between the hits. This meant you subconsciously let out a low moan at the force of her last cane strike, which was considerably harder than the rest, sending your body forward further into the bed.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you” she scoffed, and you could practically hear the smirk that adorned her features. She ran two fingers up the length of your inner thigh, collecting the juices and holding them up to the light. You bit the sheets between your teeth at her actions, suppressing a moan that threatened to bubble from your throat at her mocking tone.

At the lack of a response, Wilhemina quickly brought her open palm sharply down on your thigh, the sting pulling goosebumps up along the length of your bare back, nipples rubbing uncomfortably against the sheets as you squirmed. She fisted the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, pulling so your ear was aligned with her mouth, her hot breath tickling the shell of your ear as she spoke.

“When I ask you a question, I expect a response baby girl” she drawled, voice low and raspy, making you shiver and let out a shaky breath. “You know I don’t like disobedient little girls now do I?”. You shook your head quickly, eyes screwed shut as her voice went straight to your core, making you squirm in her grasp. She tugged again, warningly. “No god- No Ms Venable, I’ll be a good girl I promise” you spluttered out, moan catching in your throat as she relaxed her grip on your hair, bringing her hand round to your throat, squeezing experimentally.

“It’s a bit late for that- don’t you think little one?” her fingers flexed against your throat, feeling the muscles contract as you swallowed deeply at the feeling. “But since you were such a good girl and took your punishment so well for me, I think I could give you what you want”, you nodded desperately, tears in your eyes as a result of the pain and pleasure of the caning. “Please” you squeaked, no longer caring how needy you sounded to the older woman, only wanting her to give you what you wanted so badly.

Her eyes darkened with lust, pressing the slick fingers to your lips as you gladly took them in, circling them with your tongue as you moaned, the taste of your own arousal on her fingers made you physically ache for her touch, you were now too sensitive to do more than fight the urge to rub your thighs together to relieve the pressure that had built up there. She withdrew her fingers teasingly, coaxing you to turn onto your back while she hovered herself over your fidgeting body, arms either side of your head, propping herself up.

Capturing your lips in a heated kiss, her teeth nipping and pulling at your bottom lip harshly, as she allowed her fingernails to slowly rake down your stomach, red scores in their wake. A sigh left your lips as she grazed over your core, body reacting involuntarily with your hips bucking up to meet her hand.

“You’re dripping wet for me.” She drawled, voice low and dripping with arousal as she taunted you. “My little slut getting so worked up while being punished, tsk tsk tsk” she tutted as you groaned at her words, heat flooding to your core.

She trailed two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal before slipping them into you slowly. Allowing you to adjust to her fingers inside, she kissed along the curve of your jaw, sucking a deep bruise on the underside of it, starting to pull her fingers back out of you and setting herself a quick pace that had you whimpering beneath her.

You bit you lip to quieten the breathy moans you were releasing at her fingers curling inside you with each thrust, and the feeling of Wilhemina’s hot breath on the delicate skin of your neck. “You don’t need to be quiet, little one. I want to hear your sweet little noises.”

You let your head fell back on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as Wilhemina brought her thumb to circle your clit, adding pressure causing you to jerk up into her and let out a loud moan of pleasure. She quickened her pace inside you, adding another finger and hissing as you clenched around her fingers. “God you’re so tight” she husked in your ear, nipping at the lobe and trailing bites down to the swell of your breast.

You gasped at the feeling of her teeth grazing the hard bud of your nipple, tweaking it between her teeth. You arched your back into her touch. She sucked on your nipple, tongue swirling the bud and pulling back to blow cold air onto the sensitive skin.

She flicked again at your clit, smirking against your other breast at the way your body shivered under her, a little squeak falling from your lips, breathing becoming laboured.

“I’m gunna- oh god- Please, please can I come Mina” you moaned, feeling the familiar wave of an orgasm creeping up on you, tension knotted deep in the pit of your stomach. Her face left the swollen nipple she’d been biting and returned to hover over your face.

“Come for me baby.”

Her fingers continued to stroke against your insides as the orgasm ripped through your body, clenching around the fingers buried inside you, eliciting mewls to drip like liquid from your open lips. The waves kept intensifying as Wilhemina persisted; drawing your orgasm out for as long as she could to prolong the pleasure that rippled through your trembling body.

She let you catch your breath, still trembling beside her after the powerful orgasm she’d given you. Taking the fingers she’d withdrawn from your centre into her mouth, keeping eye contact with you as you let another moan escape your lips at the sight of her tongue circling the digits. Hand coming to curl behind your neck and bringing you towards her for a gentle kiss, allowing you to suck the lingering taste of your arousal off her tongue.

Her nails lightly scratched the skin of your scalp, prompting goosebumps to prickle over your skin despite the sheen of sweat you now wore. “Now baby girl. What are you going to do the next time you have a bad day and get all annoyed?” You whimpered, anytime she used an authoritative voice or questioned you like this making you weak with arousal.

“Answer me.”

“Not be a brat and – oh” you gasped as her hand found your throat, fingers flexing and squeezing in warning. “And tell you why I’m annoyed” you blurted out, cheeks flushed pink at the control the older woman had over your body.

“Good girl.” She patted your jaw twice, smiling, before moving to lie back against the cushions next to you. “Because you know that I can make you forget all about your bad day don’t you honey?” you nodded at her, eyes glazed over in admiration at how she could unravel you with only her words and make you forget whatever was on your mind.

“Now come here and apologise to me properly”

#sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson #ahs #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #sarah paulson imagine #ahs imagine

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yeojaa · 5 years ago

Text

( LOVED YOU BETTER. )

You put your love and trust into people not things, you tell him.

They’ll leave, he says about humanity - about that precarious nature that both beguiles and terrifies him.

But they’ll love you back, you remind him.

pairing. kth x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life. an angst angel food cake with a fluffy, strawberry centre. general.

tags / warnings. minor (ish) character death, heartbreak, kim taehyung is bad at feelings, summer romance, abandonment issues, moving on, healing. idk.

wc. 4.3k

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif @snackhobi @midnighttifa 💖 i love y’all!

author note. this was written for the 'a long hot summer' event hosted by @thebtswritersclub. my member was taehyung (obviously!) with the sense being sight. this is my first project for a net, so i hope you enjoy it! 💖

He spends most of his childhood in Lyon, skirting the rivers in search of inspiration. It isn’t Paris, his mother tells him, but it’s just as lovely - quieter and more peaceful. She insists, one day, she’ll take him home, where his maternal grandparents are buried and she’ll show him all the parts of her world.

The first time he paints - eleven years old, seated at the edge of the Saône with a brush held between his teeth and pigment smearing his hands - his mother is delighted. He fills the house with his works: pretty watercolours that mimic the blue of the river, the white of boats, the amber of the sky. She loves them and she loves him and she tells him day in and day out, offering praise as readily as he offers his heart on canvas.

He’s sixteen when he migrates stateside, to where his father grew up and his mother’s accent stands out. He hates it there. It’s boring and bland and it stifles his imagination. There are no sail boats, no rivers, no pretty girls. The days turn grey and so does his mother, as if she’d left the best parts of herself back in France. She still tells him she loves him, promises that they’ll go back someday.

At twenty-one, he learns love isn’t real. His father files for divorce and his mother withers away. When he goes, he packs his bags and doesn’t look back. It’s a slamming door in an already abandoned home. Beautiful as it might be, love is nothing but infatuation - fleeting and easily broken and fit only for the books that line the study. It exists truly, wholly, only in the blood that runs in his veins.

At twenty-two, he realises absolutely nothing lasts, for his mother leaves too, taking her lilting laughter and rose perfume with her, buried six feet under soil she’d never called home. Her death is a nail in the door, sealing his childhood shut.

His father does not attend the funeral. Hardly anyone does.

The paintings - lovely portraits of her wide eyes and full lips, of Parisian sunsets and paved streets - are all he has. They serve as memories, painful reminders of the woman his mother once was, of the life he’d once lived. They fill the house that’s no longer a home - hasn’t been, for years - tucked away in a room he refuses to enter.

His mother had called him her petit choux because he was born with dough-soft cheeks, sweet as pie. As he grew older, the name stuck - even if the fat hadn’t, slipping off his face with each passing year. By the time he’s eighteen, he’s uncut edges rather than honey brioche. At twenty-seven, he’s hardened far more than she would’ve ever expected of her beloved boy. He is week old bread, stale and hard to the teeth.

But he is still her petit choux and he thinks she’d love him regardless.

So Kim Taehyung promises to go back. For her - to find all the pieces she’d left behind and fashion them back together. What he doesn’t expect is to meet you along the way.

He discovers you on a day that scorches his bones, Parisian sun shimmering pavement and cobblestone. You are a whirlwind of colour, every shade of the rainbow presented in the glory of your smile. You treat the Seine like a lover, living at the edges of its shores with bare feet and bare legs and a bare face that begs to be memorised.

You laugh and it’s radiant, pealing bells that ring in his ears long after noon has struck.

You call him mon chéri like it means something.

It reminds him of his mother and he wonders whether she ever did these same things, dancing across the grass with an apricot caught between her teeth. He hopes so.

“Come, come,” you coax, with a mouth that threatens to tear his chest wide open. It presents pretty, in shades of ruby and wine; it draws him in, sticky sweet, and he’s defenseless to your whims. He goes where you go, following the flow of your hair, the curtain that draws back and has him seeing in technicolour.

He laughs when you laugh, smiles when you smile. You bring him to all the places he’s never been: the cobbled streets his mother once roamed, the darkened bars filled with champagne, the sunlit warmth of your bedroom where wisteria branches hang low. He paints you in all of them - sweeping watercolours into the silk of your hair, the curve of your lips, the swell of your hips when his palms grip them tight.

You’re an ingenue, a muse, everything he’s ever wanted. But he doesn’t love you - because love doesn’t exist. Not in the ways they portray on the silver screen, with heartfelt declarations and bundles of overflowing roses. He can’t give you those things; he’s grateful you don’t ask.

Sometimes, he thinks you might dare to. Can see it lurking in the lovely shade of your stare, how you study him when you think he isn’t watching. Furtive glances, made beneath the thick line of your lashes, behind the brocade of your sun-drenched strands.

But he’s Kim Taehyung and he’s always watching - always aware. He hates to miss a single thing.

Don’t ask me to love you, he tells you without words.

“Should we go to Lyon for the weekend?”

You’re draped across the bed, drenched in lavender and warm like baked pastry. Your tongue licks cream from your lips, sweetness touched with honey. He drinks in your every movement, dedicating them to canvas. There’s a freckle on your knee and another just below. One more on your ankle and three along the top of your foot. A constellation he hasn’t named yet.

“No,” he answers, devoid of the same delight that frolics behind your teeth.

“Why not?” You press, because it’s what you do - forcing each button until you find the one that stirs something to life within him. A coin-operated boy, rusty and in terrible disrepair. He thinks you’d be wary of the bright red warning light but you seem almost colourblind, looking through rose-tinted glasses that dress all of his actions in warmth he doesn’t deserve.

He doesn’t answer, sweeping his brush back and forth. Lilac filters into water, a lovely shade that grows lighter and lighter with each pass of bristles. It’s not quite the same as your dress - a silk creation that begs to live on your skin - but it’s close enough. He’ll settle for it.

It reminds him of the flowers in the garden back home. Back when his mother was alive and she still breathed life into the greenery, trimming stems and drying petals.

“I don’t want to.” A simple enough answer.

You wait for him to elaborate, pouting and pleading like you might break him down with the sheer force of your beauty. If he were any lesser man, you might have.

“Please,” you purr, too persuasive for your own good. You’d settle into his lap, twist his honey strands between your fingers, if not for the stare he levels you with. One that screams be good and stay still because the last thing he wants is you ruining the painting. He doesn’t want to start all over and the light is already waning, sun lost somewhere behind drooping branches and the gauzy softness of your drapes.

“No.”

“Please.”

Brush to water, then to colour. A sweet orange - the flesh of a fresh cantaloupe without seeds. “No.”

“Mon chéri—”

He booms out “No!” like a cannon. It’s akin to being scolded, stilling the playfulness in your hands. You’re ignorant to all the reasons he refuses to indulge you but you think of it as nothing but selfishness, a cold you can’t weather. One you refuse to when flowers are in full bloom and the air outside lays a salt-crown atop your brow. This is your kingdom, your rightful place - you bow to no one.

You stiffen, rise from the bed in a motion that disrupts every part of him. Motions still, knuckles white. No no no. You’re ruining it. You’re ruining—

“Get out.”

Taehyung can’t quite believe his ears - staring at you in such aghast you almost laugh right in his face. He has the audacity to perform such theatrics after yelling at you? How dare he! It enrages you, brings your blue blood to a boil beneath your skin.

“Pardon?” The sound rolls, trips, and stumbles, dirt on his palms and knees as he stares up at you.

“I said get out, mon chéri.” You’ve unbuttoned the rumpled shirt - his, with his initials embroidered across the cuff - allowing it to drop from your shoulders and into his lap. He glares down at it, stained now with the watercolours in his palette. It’d be pretty if it weren’t so infuriating.

“I’m not done.”

You tch, a derisive sound that bites worse than your love, your nails painted in Chanel. “I don’t care.”

“I’m not done,” he repeats, perhaps a little lost. It crawls out between his teeth, a lost man seeking solace. He needs to finish this. He hasn’t painted you this way yet, bathed in faded light. It’s an empty slot in his album of memories. He can’t let it go.

You’re unrepentant, dismissive. A table turned. “I don’t care.”

He hates you then. He doesn’t realise how close the emotion is to love.

He doesn’t know when his boyhood waned away, lost itself to the wind and the rivers. He only knows, suddenly, he was not a boy but a man, a miserable soldier made to walk the plank. He thinks it might’ve been when she died, taking the last traces of his youth with her. Gone was the innocence, the gentility, the voraciousness; all at once, the ease - the glory, the good - had evaporated, leaving in its place a broken boy too angular, too angry.

He doesn’t know when his boyhood waned away, but he remembers all too well when her death had eclipsed the light, leaving him in perpetual darkness.

It makes sense then - that his whole life is a charnel house, built on the foundation of someone else’s bones. It’s only fitting it becomes a memorial to a long-gone mother, a weeping wife, a star burnt out too soon.

He’s somehow still surprised when his kingdom - formidable, impenetrable, guarded - comes crumbling down, an overgrown old city ruined. As if he’d expected those skeletons to hold him forever, to carry the weight of his desolation within their hollows. He begs for absolution when it falls beneath a thousand leagues, lost to saltwater and liquor. He drowns within it and it seeps, sticks, stirs - catching in his stare and trembling his fingers.

Nostalgia comes like ghosts - old men lost at sea.

They’re dim, twilight, held behind a heavy fog. Old memories on a carousel ride, spinning in perpetual motion. They’re snapshots of his mother, his youth, his home. They pass too quickly; he can never catch them.

Years old misery claws its way up his chest and he chokes on it each night, lying awake listening to the city groan, straining like a dying beast on its last legs. He misses her, he misses you, he misses the person he used to be. He aches for it - a nameless thing just out of reach.

Something Taehyung begs and cries for until he’s blue in the face.

Something you’d given him, in the form of kisses and promises. Something he’d only shoved you down into the dirt for - right where she was. Because no one kept promises, and he didn’t want to hate you later. (For loving, for leaving.)

Instead, he hates himself, and that is a neater, cleaner way to end the story.

He is bereft, drifting between days he has neither the desire nor wherewithal to consider.

He sees women just like you - girls that run barefoot through the grass, fancying themselves dancers, muses, inspirations. They laugh, they kiss, they cite vague poetry. They preen when he asks to paint them, throwing exaggerated shapes with the lines of their necks, the flutter of their lashes.

Still, none of them are you - too soft and rounded.

None possess the same insolence, polite phrases toeing the line of sophisticate and street urchin. They are all wind-up ballerinas, dancing on rotation, with smiles not right, too tight. They’re too flat, too freckled, reminiscent of rotting cherries and mint-green Ladurée bags you’d scoff at. They leave his canvases better off bare, boring and one-dimensional. Taehyung resents them.

But he doesn’t love you, and he tells himself that whenever he misses you.

A victim of ennui, he slips into a pattern he abhors. Supine lounging in the evenings, preceded only by listless wandering during the long hours of the day. He drifts with the rise and fall of the sun, eyes blind to the beauty around him.

Nothing feels quite right anymore - not in the way it used to. There are no memories of his mother, no sweet tales told by a ghost. It’s empty empty empty, only shit-stained streets and hollow bodies.

He prays for an answer, a sign, anything.

It comes in the form of you - nearly three weeks later, beneath a stream of sunlight that casts you in chiaroscuro. For the first time, he itches to paint. The need thrums in his fingers, a million little nerve endings firing off. He itches to touch you too, but he ignores that, shoves it into the deepest, darkest recess of his thoughts as he can. He needs to focus on one thing and one thing only: doing what he came here to do.

“Bonjour.” It comes bare, undressed and vulnerable. By the look on your face, it isn’t what you want.

You twist away, entire body angling uncomfortably in your effort to ignore him. “What do you want?” You’re cruel, capricious - a god looking upon a lowly farmhand with no offering. It stings in a way it shouldn’t, pulls his expression into a frown before he can mask it.

That’s better, you think. He can practically read the smug emotion dancing in those pretty irises.

“You haven’t called.”

“Neither have you.”

“You told me to leave.”

“And you left.”

For every excuse, you have a rebuttal. It’s a game of chess he’s bound to lose. It’s as frustrating as it is enticing, stirring something warm and heavy in the cavity behind his ribs. A little hummingbird come to life, wings beating relentlessly and kicking up all the dust of his childhood trauma.

“I’m sorry.” It’s hardly an apology, too greedy to come the way it should. Taehyung does this for himself, for his promise, for memories he refuses to let go.

You see right through him. “Are you?”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“Tell me what you’re sorry for.”

The words I am are poised on his tongue and reduced to ash with your question. He’s never had to try so hard a day in his life. It feels wrong, messy, awful. Every part of him compels him to rebel - to wax poetic about the things he’s done right, how what you’re asking is too much. I cannot love you, he thinks.

“I thought so.” There’s nothing but disdain in your stare, turning it sharp like a knife that threatens to glide through his armour. “You’re selfish, Kim Taehyung. All you want is to take and take and take. You refuse to give.”

You’re not wrong. He wears his sadness like a solid steel plate; it curls around his vertebrae, writhing in his belly until he’s full, aching, complete. He doesn’t know how to exist without it, apart from it. It keeps him safe, satisfied, out of harm’s way. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

As you leave, he wonders whether it’s worth it.

Six long days pass. Six too many, drawn out and miserable. He aches to create, to sketch, to paint. He calls you in a moment of weakness; you come, nonetheless.

“What do you want?” You repeat, mouthful of thorns and scar tissue.

This time Taehyung has an answer. He’s ready, confident in his recital. It spills forth loosely, with abstract brazenness. “I want you.” There’s no room for uncertainty, zero leeway to be found in between the syllables. It’s the most sincere he’s been all season, made true by the summer sun and your focused, unyielding stare.

“You want moi?” It’s a dance with the devil - question poised like a hand. “Do you even know what wanting someone means?” You’re steady, unwavering, just as he is.

He hesitates then, just barely, with a tick of his jaw, fingers curling around nothing. You take that as weakness, delicate mouth curling into a sneer. He sees it - all the I told you so’s poised on the tip of your tongue, ready to silence him. He beats you to it, crashing his mouth against yours with a recklessness that thrums in his veins, sending his heart on a wild chase for that something.

He’s spent his whole life in pursuit of a feeling, a spectre, a bittersweet memory. He thinks he might’ve lost himself along the way.

“I want you. I want you - and us.”

What he means to say is he wants all the things that come with it: the bratty rebuttals, the early morning eagerness, the taste of you every night. He wants the eyelashes on his pillow case, the lipstick stains, the scent of your perfume - citrus and nectarine blossom, cocoa butter, fresh cream. He wants the trips to the countryside, the new memories, the paintings full of you. He wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything. He needs it like he needs air, light, art.

He needs you - his muse.

He tells you, shamelessly, around a lump that forms in his throat and makes it hard to breathe. “We’ll go to Lyon. If you want to go, we’ll go.”

The place where he grew up is different, wrapped in ivy and devoid of light. Windows are drawn and everything leans grey, weeds sprouting beneath his expensive leather loafers. They curl around his ankles, creep up the back of his knees; they threaten to crush him beneath their weight. He imagines his insides look the same - neglected and vacant.

He wishes he hadn’t come. This isn’t his home, his kingdom, his heart. Not anymore.

“Come, mon chéri,” you hum, stirring him from his reverie, pulling his thoughts through the seven circles of Hell until he’s back in the present, stiff at your side with your fingers interlaced. You offer an affectionate smack of your lips - wine-stained and pretty - to his cheek. He does not soften.

“Let’s go.” It comes despite himself, before he can help it, in a voice that isn’t his. It’s too soft, too unsure - fifteen years younger and vulnerable.

You regard him closely, with a careful narrow of your stare. He can read the pity there, the frustration that swims in the depths - circling sharks seeking out the scent of his blood. It’s inescapable. He wishes you’d stop. He doesn’t need you to lecture him.

Misery rises, licks up his throat like bile, and he worries it might spill out, red as the crimson sea. Part of him wants it to - a defense mechanism he can’t control; the other part of him knows he should swallow it down. He has no reason to fight you.

“Come,” you repeat, and he’s defenseless, lost to your siren song. He steps back in time, white-knuckled and terrified.

There are no longer peonies in the kitchen, nor roses in the front hall. Dust settles over every surface, dry soil kicked up beneath his feet.

Taehyung tries to recall the way his mother would busy herself in the garden, bent over her flowers like an altar. How her knees were perpetually scarred, dirt caught beneath her nails, dark hair a braided wreath worn like a crown. It was the only time she was anything but composed - full of light and laughter and a love for the alive. He’d eat breakfast with her in the front yard, a shadow that would follow her every move. Back and forth, he’d go - on his feet, with his brush, in his thoughts.

Every painting was of her - of tulips and daisies, bare ankles and sun-kissed skin. The shape of her mouth, the freckle on her nose. Her delight when his father would come home.

He swears he smells her perfume now, standing in the place he’d grown up. He’s reminded of hot coffee and fresh bread, her fluttering laughter and brass watering can. He’ll dream about it for days, memories rolling like a Super 8 film through his mind.

He cries I’m fine when he isn’t. You hold him until he is.

You sleep together on a Sunday afternoon.

When you wake, the sun is low on the horizon and you’re the prettiest Taehyung’s ever seen you, features thrown in stark relief. You’re salt-sweet and striking, dressed in linen whites and the shape of his mouth.

He paints the pale soles of your feet, drawn against your leg, and the shade of your nails, a pretty colour he attributes to springtime and sonnets. He indulges in the sound of your voice, soft and hazy in his ear. You kiss him like he isn’t broken and you taste like memories - ones he hasn’t made yet, but desperately wants to. He is both sinking and floating, as if you’ve taken his heart from his chest and hold it, beating, somewhere high above his head.

He carries your perfume for weeks after, heavy on his skin. Lingering, like you’ve become a part of him, like he’s fallen in love.

Kim Taehyung had once surrounded himself with beautiful things - paintings and drawings and girls. He’d thought if he fenced himself in with all things good, there would be no cracks for the outside world - the real world, full of misery and deceit - to seep through. He’d kept his hands occupied by brushes, by thorns, by a million little material things.

He hadn’t realised all he needed was yours, warm in his.

You put your love and trust into people not things, you tell him.

They’ll leave, he says about humanity - about that precarious nature that both beguiles and terrifies him.

But they’ll love you back, you remind him.

The confession comes at the end of summer, edges past the cage of his teeth into the quiet of the evening. It comes and comes, so softly he thinks you might laugh, corners of your eyes wrinkling like the sheets in which you’re bare.

Maybe it’s the way your hair falls over your shoulders, a curtain he aches to part, to feel beneath his hands. Maybe it’s the way you look at him with hungry eyes and wet lips and teeth that could crumble all of his walls as if they were made of papier-mache.

Maybe it’s just you, skin like silk and eyes like the night sky.

“I think I love you,” Taehyung states, careful, with his entire heart in his hands.

“You think?

He nods, although he mustn’t. He can’t, he reminds himself.

And yet he does, because there is no denying how well you fit each other’s curves, the truth that you are two pieces of the same puzzle. He wakes up early each day with the taste of you still on his tongue, the memory of you seared into his palms. Your body has become his home and it is real, flesh and blood, not broken bones buried six feet under.

You fill his silence with your laughter; it sounds like redemption and feels like hope.

Before he knows it, seasons change.

Autumn becomes a waiting room, a time between the unyielding heat of summer and the unbearable cold of winter. Taehyung loves the quiet of it, the progression as steady as the chill that creeps beneath his clothes, within his bed - everywhere but in his head.

He remembers his mother, his home, all the things he’s lost. He pays homage to the woman who had raised him right but left too soon. He finds the places she’d told him about and folds secrets into their corners. He creates new memories, introducing his present to his past. You call her mamman and tell her not to worry, promising that you’ll take care of him.

He lives beneath the fading leaves that serve as a benchmark for which to measure the growth he’s undergone. He imagines his life in film, in rolling scenes laid out in sepia tones. He imagines weeks passing by and versions of himself doing the things he loves most.

Laid out under the copper sky, your head in his lap and a brush in his hands. He doesn’t need to look at you - can fit you among the pages purely from memory. The turn of your smile, the twinkle in your stare, the little freckle just beneath your lip. He sees you in his dreams and he commits them to paper, filling his sketchbook as you fill his thoughts.

Wandering the streets, hand in hand, guided by your laughter and the smell of warm pastry. Bare legs, echoing footsteps, the sight of your smile when he’s said something particularly funny. You cry Mon chéri! and force a cherry between his lips, savouring the tart taste under the afternoon sun.

Upon your balcony, skin searing beneath high noon and the feel of your mouth. He lets you paint him - sits terribly still as you show him who he really is - stripping his pretenses with each pass of your brush. He is bare but not broken, a beautiful boy painted in earth tones and paired with intense eyes.

Taehyung tells you your painting is beautiful and that he loves it - that he loves you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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mythicamagic · 4 years ago

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As usual... I can never just choose one... soo here are my top choices you choose one. Lol

1. Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?

2. The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.

3.that ship has sailed. i’ve had my one great love already

4. we’re just…friends.” “friends don’t do this type of shit!

5. Did you just slap my ass?” / “Actually, I firmly grasped it.”

Why did I decide 2 of the hurt/sad/angst.. idk.. i suppose im glutton for punishment. Dont hurt me too bad if you choose to do one of them myth.

Decided to do a part two for - this ask.

I chose; The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.

---

The air felt crisp and clean, biting at Kagome's cheeks as she wound her scarf tighter around her neck. Winter markets were so much fun. The vast array of cute little items on display made warmth light up her chest, even as the candy and children's toys reminded her of a certain fox she'd left behind in the past.

Kagome smiled at Ayumi as she prattled on about something or other.

She shouldn't feel guilty. Shippo had barely visited the village in the last year she'd been there. Everyone had moved on. Including herself, somewhat. She'd been so wrapped up in her whirlwind romance with a certain Daiyoukai- the feudal era had been irreparably damaged as a home for her the second they'd broken up.

But she missed her friends. Dearly.

She shook herself. It was too late to go back on her choice now. The well had sealed shut for good.

Ayumi stopped to grab some hot chocolate from a street vendor, allowing Kagome a moment to warm her hands, rubbing them together.

Snowflakes gently danced about like powdered sugar, kissing Kagome's face as she turned- almost bumping face-first into a muscular chest. Fresh scents of wild forests and thunderstorms filled her nose, and she stiffened.

He smells the same.

Kagome bit the inside of her cheek, blue eyes narrowing. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"Haven't the faintest idea of what you mean," he arranged his features into mild innocence, which was near impossible due to his smiling eyes.

"Riiight," she muttered, wishing Ayumi would hurry up.

Sesshoumaru gazed down at her, a pink gift bag in hand. Kagome grit her teeth, hating that she wondered who it was meant for.

"I did not intend to run into you here, before you accuse me of anything," his silky voice caressed her hearing once more. It sounded so lulling, designed to draw her back in. "Did you take my gift home with you or did you throw it away?" he asked, deceptively casually.

"Home. But don't think that means anything- it's not the plant's fault you're trying to worm your way back into my life."

The Daiyouki smiled to himself, obviously absurdly pleased. He began pursuing the street vendor's items right beside her, gazing at children's toys with a touch of gentleness in his steady gaze. Kagome was prepared to ignore him- until he leaned down, breath fanning 'accidentally' over her cheek as he picked up a doll and straightened.

"Do you remember Rin? And the other children-"

"Don't," Kagome said, unable to move away. She hated the thrumming of her skin so much. The way it cried out. Hated him.

Her skin flared alive, body humming with hunger. Like a shot of adrenalin to the heart, Kagome dipped her chin into her scarf to try and mask her escalating breathing due to his proximity. When they'd had sex- so many years ago- it hadn't been like human lovemaking.

He'd wired new pathways within her system via his youki. Sometimes she felt like it still lived inside her, having made a home for itself. They hadn't mated, but she felt irreversibly changed by it.

Kagome made a faint noise, squeezing her eyes shut.

Resist him-

"Kagome?"

Oh thank God.

"Ayumi, let's go," she said abruptly, facing her friend with an urgent look in her eyes.

Ayumi tilted her head slightly, eyeing Sesshoumaru curiously. "A-alright?"

"You do not need to leave," he turned, exuding a magnanimous air. "I am the one who intruded on your time, please continue," he gestured to the market, ensnaring Kagome's gaze with his own. Unblinking, unable to hide his more animalistic habits even after so many years.

"I hope to see you some other time when my presence does not disturb you," he said softly, walking away.

---

When entering work that Saturday, Kagome could already sense the buzz in the air. Someone had generously donated some priceless artefacts to their museum. The previously undiscovered finds that shaken everyone due to their rarity and mint condition. No one could stop talking about it.

Kagome's blood ran cold the second the items in question were described to her. Pushing through the crowd that had gathered, she stared in horror at the display case.

Itching for a fight, she immediately stormed to his office downtown, opening the door to reception and letting herself in. "Is Sesshoumaru here?" she burst, stopping in front of the secretary's desk.

"Mr Taisho?" the woman blinked, obviously thrown by the petite, angry miko currently glaring at her and using his name so informally. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No. Just tell him Kagome is here."

She was let into his office soon enough, trying to keep a lid on her crackling reiki. Sesshoumaru glanced up from his computer. "Miko? What a pleasant surprise."

Kagome slammed an article atop his desk. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped.

He raised a brow, briefly flicking his attention to the contents. A photo of red and white silks, coupled with polished spiked armour sat in a display unit. "Something wrong? It was just a donation, given in good faith."

"Donated to my workplace!" Kagome seethed, groaning and burying her face in her hands. "Don't you realise I'm going to have to see your things now every day? I've worn those clothes! I've slept in them as pyjamas! Are you trying to mess with me because you want me back?"

"That's a little dramatic, dear one, I'm not trying to 'mess with you.' It was just a donation," he rose from his seat, face inches from hers. "And if I wanted to romance you, I'd go about it much differently."

"Don't 'dear one' me," she snapped. "You could've donated that stuff years ago- or to a different museum. But no, you had to give it to mine."

"My gift was not meant to distress you, but," he rounded the table slowly, fingers dragging over the wood. "It does make me worry, seeing you so worn thin. Is something else going on? Separate from...us?"

Kagome stiffened, avoiding eye contact. Things with her boyfriend had been strained as of late, and the Daiyoukai's sudden appearance back into her life wasn't helping matters.

"There is no 'us.' I'm frustrated and exhausted, that's all. Don't make things even more complicated by asking about that stuff."

Sesshoumaru lingered close, and Kagome didn't shy away. The one person she couldn't bear to be near was also the only being who could offer some semblance of comfort to her due to his familiarity.

"This one meant to give you something," reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a business card, handing it over. Kagome immediately froze, staring at the name. "You miss him," Sesshoumaru murmured. "The kit lives in Kyoto now with his wife and children. Call him."

Tears pricked her eyes, and Kagome bowed her head. Full lips crumpled into a wobbly line.

"If there is something I regret more than our parting, it is that you felt compelled to leave. The fault lies with me."

Shaking her head, a saddened laugh bubbled up her throat. "It was my decision to break up, and it was my decision to leave the Feudal Era. Don't...blame yourself for that part."

"You did not do anything wrong," a long-fingered hand reached out, blunt nails losing their glamour. Sharp claws stroked dark curling hair back from her neck. Kagome's breathing hitched. "When we were together- you did not do anything wrong. We were both so young. It was foolish of me to act as I did, but I think it is now... that we are in the right place for something more."

Kagome shivered, body warming to him. Intuitively, the brush of fingers on her neck made her foolishly anticipate a kiss- sorely disappointed when it didn't come. "I'm not," she forced herself to say. Seeing the disappointment darken his brown eyes, she sighed. "I miss you," Kagome admitted quietly, turning away to escape from his touch. "I miss how... we were. I'm terrified of that, though. I was...under the impression we'd be together. Permanently. Then you had to go and tell me you needed 'pure' heirs to continue the family bloodline."

She laughed bitterly, loosely holding her arms. "The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I'm still in love with you."

"You are frightened that I will hurt you again."

Kagome nodded mutely. She then forced a giggle, giving a weak smile. "Besides, you may not like me as I am now. I'm more jaded than before."

"I like what I see very much," moving closer once more as though experiencing a gravitational pull, he stopped inches away. "I have missed you too," he muttered quietly, genuinely. She could feel him inhale her scent through her hair. "Very much."

Her mouth suddenly became dry. "I'm with Natsuki-"

"Leave him," a rush of passion entered his voice as Sesshoumaru swept closer, backing her into the desk. The wood dug into her thighs, their hips meeting. "This one is not interested in being 'the other man' in an affair. Nor am I interested in watching you remain with someone less than ideal," he snorted, resting his hand over her wrist and grazing his thumb over it.

"Y-you don't know anything about it!"

"I could smell your scent. It was not bright and cheerful even before I re-entered your life the other day. His feels...murky on you. Unhappy."

Kagome swallowed thickly, glancing away. "Observant as ever," she admitted softly.

"Or perhaps you did a poor job of hiding it," backing off a little- he rested his hip next to hers beside the desk, remaining near but barely touching. And yet everything felt so close. "You've changed. But you're still the same at your core, miko," hot breath fanned over her neck, teeth ghosting over the shell of her ear. "If you permitted me, I would not be reckless with your heart again, as I was in my youth."

Her palms traitorously slid up, sliding over firm muscles- running across his chest. He felt warm. His heart was beating fast. Was he nervous? Such a thing sounded impossible.

She bit her lip, secretly longing for the sensation of silks under her hands again instead of the modern cotton of his shirt.

"I don't know that I believe you," Kagome met his gaze, rewarded with the golden glow of his eyes instead of human brown.

"I've gotta go," she said reluctantly, forcing herself to pull away. "I need to be at work."

"Very well," he hummed, unmoving. "But if you...need something. You know where to find me."

He sounded almost desperate for an excuse to talk with her. Giving a curt nod, she let herself out of his office with a long breath, shaking her head. Sesshoumaru's static youki haunted her steps for the remainder of the day.

#Sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #asks

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