#came out messier than i would have liked but what can you do when painting nature. i hate painting nature

[peachducy]

the woods

[nanamisgirly]

imagine nerd!Choso, you both are in the same degree. he didn't really noticed you at first but, for some unknown reasons, he kept bumping into you— wether in the hallway or you'd be few rows in front of him during lectures. And just like that, he developed an obsession toward you. and might god forgive him, but he couldn't help jerking off his cock at the thought of his length disappearing between your lips, eyes flickering up at him with a teasing glint. he was kind of sad you didn't even know he existed :/

but how lucky! in one of your lesson, the teacher assigned a partnered project. and fortunately, the duo were made with a randomized system!! Choso did not think twice, with some quick manipulation on his computer, he paired himself…with you! almost too easy

on your side tho, you had never heard the name Choso before. So when you reached out to set up a time for the project, you didn't expect much of it. But now…sitting across from him…his wide figure looming over the table, inked arms straining against the ridiculous tightness of his shirt…that was another story. How hadn't you noticed such a pretty face?? sharp eyes lined with kohl, two messy buns with some rebellious strands framing his beautiful features, and perfect dark purple painted nails tapping against the table. ‘am i blind or sum?’ you wondered. 

nerd!Choso was originally awkward with social interaction but more so when it came to you. He clears his throat "I- uh," he started, voice trembling "f-for the work, would you like t-t- to…" his cheeks flushed an adorable pink as you stared at him, giving him time to formule his thoughts ‘such a cute boy’ you mused.

"we can do it at my home!" he suddenly blurted out, words rushed, as if the poor man hadn’t said it now, he never would have :( "i- i mean, t-the assignment! o-of course..." he was so embarrassed of himself, his hands nervously cupping his warm milk chocolate "if— if you want to.." his eyes darted anywhere but yours, unable to hold your gaze. not when you were looking so intently, like you were seeing right through him. because what if you had some superpowers, the kind to read his horny thoughts, the kind to know exactly how many times he fucked his fist to the image of your pretty mouth stuffed full of his aching cock. catastrophe!!!!

nerd!Choso was blushing furiously, messier, stuttering over his words more than usual when you were unconditionally giving your best to give the man a gooood ride. “p-p-please” he whined, voice breaking. You leaned in, your breath warm against his ear “tell me, my pretty shy boy…what are you begging for, hmm? use your words, pretty". 

choso's hands gripped your thighs like a lifeline, fingers digging into your skin. “y-you— mngh, it's— it's too good. i can't last— i— please,” he choked out, eyes glossy as you slammed your hips down harder. His happy trail rubbed against your clit with every grind. the friction giving you as much pleasure as him.

“preeetty boy," you cooed, trying to maintain your composure despite having his fat dick stretching you enough to see stars. “is this what you've been thinking about the whole year? me riding you? or even better,” your mouth went for his neck, licking softly, contrasting with the pulsing grip of your cunt, milking his cock. "touching yourself to the thought of my glossy lips wrapped around your pathetically big dick ?" your voice was so sensual "tell me, tell me and i'll give you what you want” that man was moaning, the sluttiest moans escaping his throat. in response, your walls clenched harder, trying to suck him in even deeper at this point. “i— i was— i mean, i- fuckfuckfuck" choso were sure he lost the ability to form a simple sentence, his head falling back as he felt his tip kissing your cervix. but he tried his best to continue "i— i was…pumping my— my cock at the- mngh, thought o-of you..t-takin' me…d-d-deep,” poor boy was losing his mind. You've never seen a man being that pussy drunk, so openly lost into you, that was addicting.

your fingers trailed over his inked pecs, moving along the curves of his tattoos making their way to his nipples, and you pinched. not too rough to hurt but enough to send jolts of pleasure through his body. “look at this good boy," you sighed, feeling choso throbbing inside you. "earned the right to cum inside me… would you like that?”. 

you loved teasing him. he was a total whimpering, fucked out mess beneath you. ‘so cute’

nerd!Choso was as sure as the sky is blue that you had superpowers, somehow. and you both sure as well scored a beautiful A on the assignment.

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[re-re-redline]

Constantine XI Alter (Saber)

>Spoilers for Constantine’s Interlude<

Foreword: This was supposed to be a sketch, I swear. But on another note, I am alive! Just slowly working up to writing after a few hectic weeks. But the train is moving, just very slowly which I imagine is nothing new. One thing I HAVE been getting up to is my painting of portraits of my blorbos for their birthdays. I suck at drawing anything festive, so I hope the quality of the piece makes up for it, hehe… I have Constantine’s done and I am extremely proud of it.

Buuut that’s in February, so let’s get into my explanation and thoughts on this hypothetical of my boi! Starting off with…why he looks like this.

(I would also like to note that I haven’t ran this through TTS yet so there probably is some grammatical errors and for that I will apologize in advance, I will iron them out soon.)

Fixed it! And I added a few more lines just to explain things further.

On the Subject of Appearance:

Alright, obvious and iconic Alter color palette aside, what’s up with the vast amounts of white? That’s because… Our guy wears black mostly in his first ascension and then dies it down in his second by adding a LOT of red, so it’d make sense that his alternative would be set apart by having him wear and have the color white. Plus it illustrates just how DIFFERENT he is compared to Micheal, how opposite or perhaps opposing he is. But more on that later.

I also tried making his hair look significantly messier than Constantine’s to set him apart and make him look more scary with his wild hair, especially in his third ascension. I looked at a panel of Yhwach from Bleach to see how I could do that since his hair looks so COOL but I couldn’t quite get it to how I wanted it thanks to the pencil I was using admittedly not being the best for that sort of thing. Now if I had used monoline instead then maybe it could’ve came out better…

(Also I was planning on this being just a sketch so I wasn’t really thinking of coloring anything until his second ascension when I realized I would have to in order to communicate how different he is from Constantine and it kinda snowballed from there. Oops… You might be able to tell, but I was looking at Saber Alter’s sprite from Stay Night for ideas on how to color him. Now. I just noticed that I forgot his crown for 3rd ascension and I did try adding one recently but it looked kinda bad… So we’ll just leave him without it for now. I could justify its absence by saying that it broke when he was altered and it basically signals his now ironically unholy nature, but I had to speak truthfully first.)

Now, about the cracks on his skin. THAT is marble. Sections of Alter’s body are petrified marble with a few dry cracks in the skin. Why? Because of the legend circulating after his death of him being a marble statue. It’s like how Hans has mermaid scales and how Okita will forever have tuberculosis, Alter’s body along with several other things were affected by how people saw him. I’ll get into it more later.

But! There are some cool things, or not cool rather, to note about the marble patches on his body. Like how a lot of pain he’d feel is nullified by it thanks to lack of, y’know, nerves. This also goes for sensations in general as he wouldn’t know if you were tapping him on the shoulder or were pouring boiling water on that spot. Sections of his body cannot feel but can still move just fine. It doesn’t impede his movement at all. It just…cracks a lot.

If you ever see him stretch and pop his spine, you will not only hear the snapping of bones but also stone splitting. Don’t worry, it’ll fix itself so you don’t have to worry about him sustaining major damage from just moving around. It’ll just take some getting used to on your end.

Now. You may have noticed that the marble patches grow more the further into his ascensions he is, to the point where his armor receives patches of marble on it too. Now this wouldn’t even be something to mention if not for the fact that I’d like to think that anything new he wears in his 2nd and 3rd ascension starts petrifying slowly over time. Not all the way but enough to the point where it gets to be a chore doing laundry. Just a neat addition to what is already there.

But yeah, that’s all I got for his design so far. On to the next!

On The Subject of Class and Gameplay:

If you play JP or have Clairvoyance then you already know why its not the obvious choice. Because his legend mentions specifically that the angel who wakes him up will give him the sword he used on his final day. So it’d make sense that his class would change to Saber.

Now. In this hypothetical where I’m the one designing him as a unit. I’d imagine his gameplay to be like so:

2 Buster Cards with 5 hits, 2 Arts Cards with 4 hits, and 1 Quick card with 3 hits. Five hit Extra Attack because he’s cool like that. Same card numbers but different hits on most.

His NP would be an Offensive Buster NP whose description looks something like this:

Legend of The Marble Emperor (EX):

Increase Buster Card Effectiveness for 3 Turns, Increase ATK for 1 Turn, Inflict Curse, Deal Major defense ignoring damage to one/all enemies, Restore HP by 2,000 (effect increases with Overcharge), Apply Resistance to Death by 5000% for 1 time (non-stackable) and Apply a stackable Guts for 5 turns that restores half of Constantine XI Alter (Saber)’s HP upon Death.

That is one hell of an NP that not only hits hard but also provides major survivability which is what Constantine is all about. Now, I could quite decide if he should be a Single Target or an AOE but I do imagine his gameplay to be your awesome clutch soloist unit for CQ’s, Advanced Quests or boss fights. Is this really cool hypothetical NP a showing of my massive bias? …Maybe. But that’s not important, onto the skills!

Skill 1: The Ends Justify The Means (A) [Cooldown at LV.10 is 6 Turns]

Increase Buster Card Effectiveness for 3 Turns, Increase ATK for 3 turns for All Party Members and Apply Target Focus to All Party Members Excluding Constantine XI Alter (Saber) for 3 Turns.

Skill 2: Demise Privilege (Alternative) (C) [Cooldown at LV.10 is 7 Turns]

Increase NP Gauge for Self by 50%, Gain crit.stars per turn for 3 turns, Remove 2,000 HP from all Non-Roman Party Members and Restore HP by 3,000 to self, Apply Guts to self for 3 Turns.

Skill 3: The People’s Wish (Alternative) (EX) [Cooldown at LV.10 is 6 Turns]

Apply a State Where Upon Hitting an Enemy, Inflict Curse (1,000 DMG) and Disastrous Curse for 3 Turns, Apply Special ATK to enemies with Curse.

As you can see, Alter is a very selfish DPS that drains HP from his non-Roman allies to keep himself alive along with inflicting curse stacks for damage over time. He’s be a nice pair up with Van Gogh for that last thing. And much like his NP, he really wants to live and it’s going to be difficult to kill him. So yes! Soloist in the form of a Saber.

Is his kit too cracked? …Maybe. Maybe not. I’ll let you all tell me what’s what.

On the Subject of Composition:

Constantine XI Alter is a Saber class servant comprised of three parts.

The first and the largest portion—the base, if you will—is Constantine’s ideal self, dreamed up during his final years of life in the late 1400s. As we are aware, Constantine utterly despises how weak he thinks he is. He hates the fact that he feels like he wants to breakdown and cry so much, he hates the fact that he’s terrified of dying, and most of all he hates that he isn’t strong enough to take the current crisis in stride like he believed his idols would have. Thus, Constantine saw his ideal self as a man who would not feel fear in times of crisis, would not cry when he was losing, and would not break under pressure. A truly stoic and strong leader that can handle any sort of disaster, that is to say: an emperor who wins for his people and survives.

The second part that makes up this servant are the wishes of the people of Constantinople. After Constantine’s death, a rumor floated around that the emperor had not died. He was rescued by an angel at the brink of death and turned into a statue. He would then sleep in a hidden cave underneath the Golden Gate of Constantinople awaiting the call of an angel who would restore his form and give him the sword he used in the final battle. It was a lovely thing to hope for and believe in, thus that rumor turned into a legend backed by the hopes and dreams of the people. It is this that would have completed this variation of Constantine had it not been for…

The third and final part is less of a ‘part’ per se and more of a distortion of what already existed. A wild, vengeful anger and grief corrupted what would have been the lovely culmination of the ideal self of Constantine plus the people’s hopes and dreams and twisted it into a cold automaton hellbent on continuing the existence of Rome as he knew it no matter the cost. These intense negative emotions came from the one and only Constantinople herself. When our favorite emperor perished and the Ottomans took over, there was no one as thoroughly stricken by grief—if we ignore George and Constantine’s remaining family—as Constantinople. It was pure agony to watch her people be murdered, enslaved and violated for days with the subsequent rebuild and installation of new buildings hurting too. But the most painful thing of all was watching her subjects slowly disappear one by one: people she watched grow up and live life for centuries on end vanishing never to return until all that was left was a large group of strangers who now occupied that space. It was maddening to say the least. The result was a lot of time passing and the events of Constantine’s interlude (yes, I read a summary of it and it could not come sooner for me.) While Constantinople WAS forced into slumber through the battle, much like the emperor she is so deeply connected with, Constantinople made a final last ditch effort to have her and Constantine’s wish come true. Thus the creation of an Alter of Constantine XI as well as a new singularity set shortly after the death of the real Constantine came to be.

On The Subject of Personality:

Alter is barely like the man we are familiar with, he would be practically unrecognizable if his face and voice were different. The most glaring difference is the lack of any expression on this man’s face. The muscles on his face only move for three reasons: he’s speaking, blinking, or the boiling rage underneath his skin has erupted upon the mention or appearance of the Ottomans. He just carries that same deadpan expression no matter what happens, good or bad. This is due to Constantine’s wishes to be a truly stoic man down to his core. Though, thanks to the distortion caused by Constantinople, most of his other emotions have been muted to make room for the, and I quote: “Boiling Rage™ that is 100% necessary and important to the restoration and maintenance of the Byzantine Empire. Yup, totally required. Why? Because screw you that’s why!”— Constantinople, circa Right Now. I kid, I kid. But really. Alter is either having tiny tinges of emotion flittering around in his skull sometimes—you know like the alleged to exist fruity taste of La Croix—or pure and absolute anger, no in between. Thankfully, for masters, the percentages of the anger are incredibly low unless for some odd reason you have Ottoman Turks appearing left and right in your area.

Unlike our friend Micheal, or any sapient being really, Alter doesn’t really…have opinions. He’s just neutral about most things in the world and mostly shrugs at whatever he’s interacting with. Good weather? Okay. Great food? Okay. Amazing friends? Okay. The milk went bad and the store’s closed right now? Okay. You stepped on the corner of five different Lego blocks on your way to the bathroom? Okay. Your pillow is scorching hot and you can’t sleep? Okay. Several hundred people just died in utter agony? O—you get the point. I’m sure you know one exception that Alter has, but allow me to provide you with one more and we’ll get into another in the next section.

The red earrings on his ears, cracked beyond belief yet still hanging just fine… Yes, Alter likes those. That’s why he hasn’t taken them off or let them shatter. Why? Well… He vaguely recalls someone important to him gifting him these. That man, after helping Constantine put his on, took out another similar pair and placed them on his own ears. He then said: “Now we match! Plus, I’ll be able to pick you out in even the most dense of crowds, my lord, as these earrings are one of a kind.”

(Yes, I headcanon that George gifted Constantine his iconic red earrings and has a matching blue pair for himself so that they both kinda match but hold their individuality all the same. A nice little thought that warms my heart.)

On The Subject of Speech:

The way this man talks is so dry and bland that one would think that Alter is bored out of his skull by simply existing. His voice is so flat and borderline monotone, no effort to emphasize anything or even to make digesting the info any easier. And to make matters perhaps worse he doesn’t talk much and tends to make what little he does say compact. It’s a flavorless way of communication that only changes when, you know, the Boiling Rage™ surfaces.

You know how in Constantine’s Bond Profile #1 it states that he “sometimes speaks more roughly in times of duress?” (Or “a more crude tone” if we’re reading the fan translation.) Yeah, well that’s no longer a sometimes. He still doesn’t talk much but man is he swearing and being rude as hell when he is pissed. The imperial decorum that our Micheal lives by has gone out of the window and will not be seen again until Alter calms down. No, he won’t apologize to anyone. Don’t bother, it’s a fruitless endeavor.

On the Subject of His Knowledge:

Alright, what does Alter know about himself? He knows that he was crafted by Constantine to be the ideal version of him. He knows about the legend surrounding his death and that being the reason for the petrification on his body. And he knows about Constantinople messing with his Spirit Origin and his current reason for existing and the objective that comes with it. …That’s it. That is all he knows.

Nothing about his personal life or his family or his best friend who had his back throughout it all, nothing. In its place are vague and fuzzy vignettes of familiar people he can’t put a name or face to that appear in his mind’s eye from time to time.

Now, as for his opinions on what he knows… Uh, I’ll just get the one with the least words on it out of the way first. The petrification thing? Yeah, he could not care less. The patches of marble on his body don’t limit his mobility any and yeah, the petrifying of his clothes is kind of annoying but it’s slow enough to where it’s not that big of a deal. It’s whatever for him.

Now. As for his creation—that being Constantinople messing with him and him being Constantine’s ideal self—he has a…not very good opinion on the two. And by that I mean he absolutely hates them both.

He hates Constantinople for twisting his already good spirit origin into what it is now and placing within him an undying anger. He also hates her for basically using him as a tool to get what she wants all because the ‘real’ Constantine rejected her wishes, essentially using him as a replacement. A simple means to an end… Yeah, even someone as dry as Alter isn’t happy with her one bit and immediately rebelled against her the moment she turned her back on him.

He hates Constantine for cursing him with the ridiculous traits of being stoic down to his core as well being the ‘perfect’ emperor for his people, the one who wins and survives. Because of that, not only does he not FEEL anything at all but he also has this immense pressure in his very soul that he MUST have Rome survive at all costs and that he must solely devote himself to that cause with every fiber of his being. Yes, the severity of those traits were caused by Constantinople’s anger and grief distorting him but the base traits were all on Constantine.

Now, in Constantine’s defense (because I am a Constantine defender), he had no idea that this would happen let alone that an Alter of himself based on what he saw as his ideal self, the emperor his people deserved and would suit them best, even existed in the first place. It was a dream to him. A dream of a man who was much better than he was, doing way better than he is and winning all at once. That is all that Alter was to him then and what he was to Constantine before the singularity. And upon seeing the cursed man before him, he could not feel worse about himself if he tried.

Endnote: Whew… That was a lot! But I think that was I’ve got on Alter. As you can see, I’d been doin’ a big think on him and he was a very fun character to design both artistically and in writing.

Whew… That was a lot! But I think that was I’ve got on Alter. As you can see, I’d been doin’ a big think on him and he was a very fun character to design both artistically and in writing. I hope you don’t mind the crumminess in the piece, if you can even call it that. I wasn’t joking when I said it was supposed to be a sketch hence the noticeable climb in effort across the ascensions.

In other more exciting news… I have 10 followers! Ten whole people! That’s enough to get one of those long tables at the fancy restaurants with!

It’s quite the milestone, one I was not expecting. So, to celebrate, I’m going to bypass the order of things I WANTED to get through with before I did this sort of thing—since I didn’t think I’d get 10 followers, honestly. But, I will be dropping a poll sometime soon—before the day’s end Nope, way too sleepy right now.—of a few headcanons you guys can choose from for me to do next! And not JUST for Constantine, Mehmed, or Sannan—no, no. I will also be tacking on my two other blorbos that I have neglected to mention, them being Hajime-chan (my strongest Saber) and Izou (my strongest Assassin.) So it’ll be Multi-Core Headcanons (haha), five people in one list. And don’t you worry, it won’t be like, one paragraph long or anything half-assed. That shit will be long, like 4k minimum per person which would—if I strictly hang around that number—would be a 20k long HC list.

So case in point! It’ll be a celebration and I implore you to vote.

But yeah. That’s all for this post. I’ll also be posting something else shortly after that is NOT the poll but a nice occurrence for lil’ ol’ me. If you have questions, comments, a desire for elaboration or a keyboard smash of your thoughts, let me know! And I’d like to thank you all for indulging my delusions today and before today and I hope you all have a great day.

—Redline, over and out!

[ladylaviniya]

A Lesson in Service

Chapter 1 || Masterlist || Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Your evening becomes a nightmare with the Lord of Radier Manor. He is a starved fox looking to ruin your sweet bunny cunny.

Pairing: Lord!Henry Dalgliesh x Governess!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Non-Con, Blackmail, Abuse, Assault, P in V sex, Loss of Virginity, Gag. Petnames "Bunny, Rabbit."

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This was a doozy to write...please I beg you read the warnings. It'll be a whole until I can post another chapter from this story again unfortunately I'm behind and I have a lot of stress going on in my life.

Inspiring Song: "Sippy Cup." By Melanie Martinez

Radier Manor Jersey, England 1888, Monday 9th April 22:55 pm.

As your body collapsed at his feet, the pain the sky rocketed your body surged over and melted into the comforts of a soft pillow and mattress.

You were in the place between dreamland and wakeup, knowing you’re asleep but unaware of how to wake up or if you’re even meant to wake-up. You felt warm. The sound of a crackling fire was by your right side. The smell of the embers burning tickled your nose.

With all your strength your groggily opened your eyes and for a moment winced at the orange light of a fireplace. Your eyes felt impossibly slow and sore. The room blurred for a few moments before you fluttered away the awakening blindness and focused on the world around you. You couldn’t see everything in the room, many shadows loomed far in the distance.

You were laying down on a magnificent canopy bed with long draping curtains and the ceiling covered in paintings of swans and gardens and lakes. There was an every feeling creeping into you.

Your heart thudded in panic.

‘This is NOT my room.’

The beating of your heart drummed in your chest as you caught some air in your chest. Nausea penetrated your belly. With a poor attempt to sit up and use the under bed chamber pot, your body refused to move far. A sharp and stinging pain made you glance at your wrists either side of your head. You squinted at the material wrapped around your skin, digging into your flesh. Rope.

Your eyes widened.

With a better glance down, you gasped in horror. Not a single stitch of clothing was to be found on your body. Your legs had been spread wide and tied down to the mattress by your ankles and knees.

A loud whimper that broke into a quick sob escaped you.

You could feel the warm air from the fire place against the most intimate flesh of your exposed cunt. You tried to desperately shut your legs but the rope would not give in. Hot tears rushed down your face.

You tugged on your wrists and legs as hard as you could. Finally you began to scream.

From the shadows flew out a large pale hand that clambered down on your mouth and muffled your voice.

You recoiled in fright as the light of the fireplace beside the bed revealed the face of the Earl who wore a well spread grinning smile. He sat beside you on the bed and loomed above. For a split second you believed he was helping you, saving you from this strange bound arrangement that you were trapped in. Yet the hope lasted shortly as remembering what has happened in the drawing room came back to your mind.

You didn’t know how nor why but you knew with your intuition he had done this. You visualised that truth quickly.

His heated eyes matched his wide feral grin in a sinister yellow light. His soft thumb rubbed underneath your crying eyes, smoothing out the wetness along your cheeks. His curly hair was far messier than it was when the two of you had met.

You flinched and whined pitifully trying to shake his hand off your mouth.

He looked like a beast and you were a delicate feast for him to feed upon.

“Poor little girl,” he sarcastically worried, clucking his tongue he started to stroke your neck gently with his other hand, “Look at you, entirely powerlessness, tied up in a trap like a silly little country bunny abbit. You’re just a sweet innocent girl, yes?” Henry obnoxiously laughed at his own joke..

Helplessly confused, more waterworks spilled. Henry ripped out a handkerchief from his banyan pocket and forced the fabric into your mouth and fingered it down to the back of your mouth near your throat. You tried shaking your face away, but he held you down by pressing on your forehead. You gagged and coughed while the linen soaked in your spit choked and irritated your tongue by its plain taste.

It was impossible to spit out, your tongue was being pressed down by its amount and thus you couldn’t curl your tongue back and push it out.

You screamed behind the gagged helplessly.

‘This nightmare is unbearable! This cannot be real!’

Your conniving employer surveyed your flesh again and ran his hand down your naked stomach to your thighs and purposely missing what was between them. His hand felt like hot fire spreading around your sensitive skin. Your face was hot, he was looking at the parts of you that you hid with great conservativeness in your governess uniform gown.

His night gown stripped away you saw beneath was nothing, no night shirt or blouse, just a heavenly torso which god had blessed him and the world with.

For a man who supposedly sat in his study all day mulling over paperwork, his physique was moulded by gods’ angels. His skin glowed gold beneath the hue haze of the fireplaces light. And light shade of soft hairs centred his chest Ieading down his belly to his pelvis. A small thatch of hair bordered a thick red piece protruding from him. His cock.

Yoi whined loudly in terror as he climbed onto the bed and over the top of your tied up body. His thighs knelt between your knees. His movement and grace were so perfectly fluid, his protruding middle muscles with his strong hunt for your body. You begged for him to stop, but the gag did all but muffled your howling fears.

You may have been innocent of relations between men and women, but it was well aware what his lordships apparent intentions were. He was about to abuse you, rape you, take you in the ways of the laws of marriage. You were to be soiled! You were to be ruined from any hope of being a proper bride to a future husband.

Anxiety drastically rose in your chest that panted desperately.

You pleaded from your cloth stuffed mouth, “please my Lord, please, you must not do this! I am a virgin of god,” tears slid freely down your face.

 ‘Don’t hurt me, please stop sir!’

You felt faint but this time you didn’t go under the pressure of unconsciousness. Your body thrusted and tugged at all your tethers. You were losing hope quickly of your escape and so overwhelmed with shock and fear you didn’t know what else to do except sob and beg him to stop this humiliation.

You prayed, ‘what have I done to be so foully punished lord? Help me and aid my freedom quickly!!’

“Hush, hush my little girl ,” Henry placed a finger against his lips to signify the silence he requested, “My apologies for such an unexpected event. It’s just…when I first met you yesterday in my study, your cheeks were such a pretty shade and I wondered how that same colour would look on your little arse. And really, when you bowed before me like a silly chicken- I couldn’t help but imagine my cock between your quim whiskers. By God I was afraid my cock would grow right then and there."

His hands crawled like a spider down to your treasure of untouched purity. A squeal jumped from your lungs and through your gag as his fingers delved into your folds.

Leaning over and softly murmuring into your ear, Henrys warm breath tickled your sensitive skin, “Miss Y/L/N, I do find myself at a stand point where I am madly fascinated and curious of your sweet body. My desire grows with every little noise you make. I am dearly looking forward to when I get to shove my cock right up into this little cunt.”

And as he said it, his forefinger cramped its way inside of your, his first knuckle not pushing any further as Henry gasped. The lord had discovered your thin lining of skin that hailed you as pure as any infant of lust might be. Virginity was going to be his prized.

You weakly lifted your head, and you stared fearfully into his glittering soulless eyes, “Just relax, little bunny. You'll be alright, the more you squirm the more you might bleed.”

You froze as his tongue began to lick and suck at your chest and neck.

“stop it! You must stop it!!! Please! Lord Henry no!!” you squealed beneath the gag.

The vile man stopped his administrations on your neck and applied his heated lips to your face. Not being able to kiss you properly without removing the gag, Henry resorted to the softest kisses to your lips and corner of your mouth. The intimacy of being kissed in such a manner shocked you to your core, it was terribly taboo.

‘What am I saying? Everything is bloody Taboo!’

You drew in a shaky breath when he finally abandoned your mouth to lick along your jaw, and he found the vulnerable skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder. Pulling out his finger from your tiny cunt he watched your body collapse into the bed; the stress was exhausting and your tensing body gave in. His hand pawed through your soft curls above and around your bits.

You moaned and cried a little more as you witnessed Henry suck the same finger he had shoved into you. His dark eyes rolled to the back off his head while he grabbed at his stiff erection.

You felt weak by the sight. In a book about human anatomy, the males’ appendage was not that shape, length or thickness.

You squeaked in fear, hating yourself for being so weak and so scared of him. Your mind felt so heavy with any plan you could devise on how to fight him or convince him to stop. You attempted to beg for his mercy again but he just cruelly smirked.

Jerking your head up, you gave him the sweetest eyes. Tears cupped in the wells of your lashes as your nose sniffled. You shook your gag covered head, “please.”

Henry sighed pleasingly as his fingers wrapped around his cock moved up and down. He was absolutely looking forward to hurting you, to taking away your innocence and to owning you. He bit his lips with a slight smile.

‘How precious, she doesn’t even know the real reason her father’s friend had sent her to Radier Manor? Colin you cruel wicked bastard!’ Henry scoffed internally and purred to his darling damsel in distress as his hand removed itself from his cock to cradle you intimately again. His fingers spread the lips of your mound wide to reveal all the folding petals of your sweet smelling virgin flower.

“Awe now look at that, my pretty little girl , puffy and unmaimed, just so sweet.” Your eyes widened.

Henry had considered giving you a taste of pleasure by a few simple rubs but thought against it,

‘Why should I give her pleasure? This is for my enjoyment, not her. I’ll just fuck her dry.’

Your head rolled back and forth on the pillow as you pleaded, but Henrys attention was now solely centred on the soft folds between your legs. He pushed any troubling doubts to the side and grabbed hold of his eager, dripping cock, blood pounding wildly in his ears.

Henry launched his body onto of yours. You begged and wheezed out to him to release you but he would not.

Dimly aware he was panting with animalistic desire, he allowed pure the beastly lust to take control. He aligned his well crafted cock between your nether lips surrounded by a cuckoo’s nest. Spreading the shiny beads of moisture leaking from the head, the lord slid his shaft back and forth over your entrance. You squirmed and whined and fidgeted as the skin of his blunt tip rested lazily ontop of your entrance.

For one last time, you, the kind governess of the Dalgliesh children begged with tears in your eyes and mucus forming in your nose, “Mercy, please don’t hurt me!”

“Hush child,” Henry whispered with his deep voice and slowly embedded himself inside of you.

You yelled out at the invasion.

‘Pain, oh god please make it stop, make him stop!!’

He lowered his mouth to your face, breathing in your sweat as he down right raped your tied up body, thrusting into your pussy harder, trying to get deep down.

You choked and gasped and reared up beneath him as his pelvis touched your thighs, while your spine curled upright to the heavens with the agonising discomfort of his penetration. Your chest heaved up and down as your body trembled from the erupting pain. His sharp finger nails dug into your hips which he grasped, keeping you firmly still.

‘This is wrong!!’

‘Have mercy!’

You were overwhelmed by the violent assault he was taking out on you physically. Never before had you imagined this was the awful torture women would suffered beneath their husbands.

‘Had his wife endured such pain…twice for the children!?’

The raw cutting into your hole, cutting up the ruins of your maiden head was an invasion into your whole soul being. Your heaving chest let loose a gut retching wail, after holding your breath too long.

Your tear flooded eyes squinted in hatred and disgust at him. The gag around your cheeks loosened and fell down your chin. Your crying was continued as you screamed at him “I hate you! Die you monster! Stop it!”

Henry however only laughed and slapped you across the face. It was not a particularly hard slap, but it stung.

The blood rushed into your cheek that was covered in salty release of sadness. Sliding deeper with every stroke, he released your hip to grip your jaw and hiss sharply into your ear, “You feel so bloody good whore, you’re nothing but a nice warm quim to shove my cock in,” he thrusted in deeper,

You yelled wordlessly in anger while Henry cackled with every pounding, “You’re my. Tight. Little. Rabbit.”

You were now coming to the stand point where you knew you couldn’t fight no matter how hard you wanted or tried.

‘Give up, keep still, it’ll be over soon,’ you told yourself full of sad hope.

His cock, even though causing pain found a strange area in which your body did enjoy, much to your horror.

You could not hold back, the tension within you layered and built higher until it unexpectedly exploded inside blinding pleasure spiralling throughout your entire body. Your eyes saw nothing but white for a mere few seconds. You gasped for air, shocked at the heady sensations swamping you, wondering what strange wildness had taken over your body. You knew Henry had done it somehow.

He sat up and trapped you by the waist in a bruising grip, savagely pounding into you as hard as he possibly could. You grunted and whimpered painfully when he finally release his essence inside of you with a fairly guttural grunt and a groan. His cock still inside you.

He swiped his forehead of the built up sweat when he finished, sweeping his curls hair away from his face. He leaned down and kissed your forehead. He hushed and cooed to you as you continued to cry.

The Earl moved away, and you shivered as his cock slid out from your body. The wave of disgust I’m him and in your self for not fighting harder damaged your soul.

“Say thank you, Sir,” he whispered in your ear, you shook your head at him and choked on your tears.

“Say thank you, Sir,” Henry snarled at your stubborn silence as his right hand curled over and pressed down on your throat.

“Thank you…sir,” you croaked, your voice breaking.

“You are sweeter than I could have imagined,” he told your, his voice dripping with a honey thick tone you would’ve found so charming and attractive if this had never happened. Now you could only trembled at it, find yourself afraid of it. Tears leaked down into the pillow. You turned your head away and shut your eyes tightly praying this was somehow a terrible nightmare.

“If you obey me little girl and learn not to talk out against me, you will find I can be a very kind master. Understood?”

You nodded but kept your eyes closed. You felt his lips press to your ear lobe, and he inhaled the smell of your skin again.

The Earl flipped himself onto his side, lightly stroked your cheek. You wept and shuddered under his ‘embrace’, torn between tears and anger, overloaded with conflicting emotions, wrung out from the carnal encounter.

 Unsure how to respond anymore, you only sniffled in reply. Your body trembled in shock as your mind struggled to absorb and understand what had happened this night.

‘How could this have happened? What did I do to deserve this?’

“Sleep,” he commanded and despite having been unconscious before this nightmare, your exhausted body ached. You wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear into darkness completely, just to be away from him.

A single tear escaped to roll down your cheek. You pulled at your the ropes around your wrists again.

Distantly you heard him say, “You’ll need your energy for when you wake.”

No more fight left within you, not that you could put up much one anyway; You let him gathering your bound body in his arms.

His filthy fingers scratched against your scalp as you slowly fell asleep to all the nightmares that would never scare your again due to his mistreatment tonight. You thought back to the kitchen where you should’ve just left. You wish you could go back now and find the butcher knife Chef Mikkelsen used so often, so you could ram it into the black heart beating beneath your cheek.

Radier Manor Jersey, England 1888, Tuesday 10th April. 06:05 am.

Pain, hate, fear, pleading screams, mocking laughter.

This time you knew you were awake. You knew deep down the previous hours had not been a dream. And you knew what the Earl of Jersey had done to you. When your orbs fluttered open you immediately sobbed. Your knowledge was confirmed accurate. A stingy bite came from between your crusty thighs.

Lord Henry was no where in sight.

The room was bathed in natural light from a window with the curtains drawn back. You quickly came to an understanding that the light coming from a window at your right specified it must’ve been morning.

Facing your feet was a door way. Beside the door was a dark leather arm chair facing the bed and a bookshelf.

The room was painted in light cream coloured wallpaper. There was a vanity with a full mirror to your left. You could see most of your nude body tethered to the bed in the vanity mirror. Beside it was a grand wardrobe thrice the size of the one in your room. To your right was a grand fireplace.

The wood was still red with burning embers but the fire had died.

You reached down to rub your raw body. You gasped.

Lifting your right wrist up to your face you noticed a bruising hot rope burn ringing around it.

Your right hand was free…and so were your feet!! But your left hand remained trapped. Sitting up and tugging your right hand down between your thighs you scratched all the dry flakes of old arousal away before slapping your thighs in anger.

You muffled a scream in a multitude of emotions ranging from mourning to the desire to murder.

Folding your face into the ridges of your palm, you sobbed hard until all your bones twitched from the intensity of your wails. Your toes and fingers curled until the knuckles bore a pale hue. Your chin and lip quivered as your nose twitched. Snorting back your tears, you continuously rubbed them with the bottom of your palms. Tears flowed like waterfalls over your warm cheeks.

Your pain stricken tears loomed over the room you were trapped inside. Staring at the door you thought back on your last memories...you swore the monster encased you in his arms; but now he was nowhere to be seen.

Still naked and afraid you slowly and ever so carefully turned on your bottom and slid your feet onto the floor. Your left hand still trapped by the impossibly tight knotted rope, you made it a life crisis to find some kind of item to cut through it.

Your steps were cut short by more than five steps. You knew last night the rope on your wrists wouldn’t have let you move so easily or far.

 ‘Strange, he had definitely untied the other limbs and lengthened the space for me, why?’

You glanced at the dresser. You held your breath, your five step space had been used up, and so with all your persistence you stretched your right hand out to one of the top draws next to the mirror. A click signified your success as your finger managed to pull out the draw by its ring handle and reach inside to feel a cold, hard object.

‘I must leave this place, I can’t be here! I will leave and find another option in teaching, maybe London has available opportunities; I’ll do anything to keep Odette safe! Dear God, Set me free and guide me to safety!’

Holding it steadily and firmly you lifted out your prize.

‘Scissors!’

The sharp weapon of sewing was in your grasp. you bubbled with excitement.

‘I’m going to be free!’

Your slightly shaking hand with the metal tool shot to the rope that trapped you to this scene. Your beating heart loudly pounded in your ears, your breath suddenly laboured. You were terrified, what if he hurt your again? You couldn’t let that happen; you needed to run.

‘I will go to Mr Ransome! He’ll ride me to the harbour, I’ll catch the next ship out back to the main land!’

Your hand hacked away persistently.

Snip

Snip

Snip

A finally with your last cut came undone the rope tying you to the bed.

A mixture of joy and fear harboured your soul.

‘I now need to leave through the door!’

The moment you were loose you considered running out the door, but a slight breeze halted you entirely. Your eyes flickered down. Bare to the world was not an option for you to run through the house and escape, you’d be a large sore thumb! It would be a worse humiliation to be so open in front of the household along with the possibility of little Mary and Michael catching you with their innocent eyes.

You looked to the bed with quick thinking and stripped it of its contents. After laying down the scissors you wrapped the layers around your body as best and securely as you could.

But tying your last part of your self made dress, the sound of a click and handle turning from the very door you planned to escape through made you panic and trip over your make shift skirtsfalling onto your backside.

Your hand immediately launched for the scissors still on the bed and swiped them behind your back.

The door flung open with a loud creak. As expected the handsome beast stood in the door frame. you scrambled to your feet, just as the Earl Henry entered the room with his hands behind his back and chest puffed up like a rooster. You bit your lip and looked to your feet, you didn’t realise how small and intimidated you could be made to feel again.

He was fully dressed in a common three piece suit. A pocket watch hung from a clip on his waist.

His leather shoes squeaked as long the floor.

Walking in, he pushed the door closed with his two fingers and in his other hand was a tightly held key that locked you both inside. Slipping the tool of your escape into his pocket, Henry noticed how you; his victim was in a different position that last time he’d left you.

The bastard had a smug grin on his face. His eyes set on your freed wrists and back to the bare bed then back to your covered torso. Dressed in the costume toga of a roman vestal virgin despite its ironical symbolism; it was so sweetly innocent.

He fluttered his eyes and chuckled a little, “It pleases me to know you have learnt simple etiquette; to rise with a bowed head in the presence of those superior to you.”

Your teeth sneered as your eyes glared up at him, “I’m not standing for you,” you licked your lips and sighed, “I was just…startled that’s all.”

You hid the scissors inside the folds of your make-shift skirts, pretending that you were simply smoothing the sheets you’d draped yourself in while gradually stepping further and further away from him to circle around the bed. Distancing yourself from the danger was the easiest and possibly safest strategy to run outside the door.

He shook his head and flashed a mean grin, “Well, all my girls here know when to show respect to their lord and Master.”

His footing rounded you quickly and slammed your hips into the duchess draws, the back of your head snapped back and cracked against the mirror. Tears released instantly even while you screamed at yourself to hold your composure. You made no noise, no whimper or whine, even with the spreading burning headache from the back of your head.

Just silent tears.

His large warm hand lifted up and rubbed your cheek, collecting your falling droplets. You flinched half believing he rose his hand to strike you. His fingers guided your face to the side and thumb jabbed into your jaw and chin. He moved your head side to side.

After so much silence of the earl inspecting your face, you hissed, “I am not one of your ‘girls’ and I do not belong to anyone, therefore I shall not bow or rise under the command of a pompous man with the greed of a naughty child!”

His eyes widened along with a sickly smile.

“My, you sure have a mouth on you.” He chuckled, his finger circled behind the your ear.

His eyes looked into the broken mirror, “The sooner you acknowledge that you are not merely a governess here, the better off you’ll be…little girl.”

An icy tingle spread from your neck to your feet while heat spread through your lower belly and down between your legs.

‘The way he spat, ‘Little girl’, why do I…do I enjoy such a demeaning name!?’ Your lips wobbled.

“Do not call me by that and do not touch me!” you hissed through your teeth and slapped his hand away.

Your other hand beneath the folds squeezed the handle of the scissors tightly with your dear life.

You knew that if you stabbed him, he could die and that you might hang for it.

‘He had ruined you! He had stolen your purity! your special flower!’ you internally lamented.

He shook his head happily like a silly teenager discovering the most immature joke that he found hilarious, his hand glided down your neck and to your chest. With a great boldness and savage hands he roughly groped your breasts wrapped in the sheets and sharply tugged a nipple he found.

A loud pain gasp stole out of your mouth.

Hatred and hellfire sparked in your soul. You quickly grasped Henrys wrist in your hand and threw it aside before pushing him strongly back.

“I said, don’t touch me!” you screeched and lifted up the scissors; you wanted to plunge them into his chest!

Alas, he miraculously anticipated your moves. Henry caught your weapon holding hand by the wrist and twisted it, causing you to cry out in pain and releasing the silver tool with a floor clattering thud.

He quickly wrenched your other arm behind you and clasped both of your wrists together in one hand as he pulled on one of your many ties that secured your sheet dress in place. The ‘gown’ came undone and melted off your body onto the floor.

You fought, believe me you screamed like a banshee and kicked and stomped and smacked your sore head against his rocked hard chest to possible knock the air out of him, it’s unfortunate he was unaffected by your attacks.

“Unhand me you... you... you... Pig!!” you screamed, wriggling in his arms.

Your feet attempted to stomp harshly down on his shoes. Yet it became a little game of shuffle and kick.

“Pig?” he laughed with a bark like sound, “Is that the best you could think of? Pig?! You couldn’t even manage the word arse or idiot or even bitch?” his deep laughter vibrating through his chest, pressed against you, sharing his mirth. “I know you to be naïve little one, but so innocently proper?

Oh this is just absolutely too much,” he gasped, tears of laughter in his eyes.

You scowled at him.

‘I just tried to kill you!’ you thought in horror and anger, ‘you think it’s funny I could’ve ended your life!’

“Release me at once you brute!” You shouted over your shoulder.

“Now, now, not yet,” he grunted and shoved your front into the mattress of the bed, “You seem to be unable to control yourself in the presence of a man...no, why in fact, my presence, the presence of your Master. Once you show some self-control or respect, you’ll be held down right beneath me,” he murmured in a silky voice as he held your wrists together and undid his belt.

You heard the clink and began to tremble. You bit your lip and cried silently into the fabric pressed on your face. The leather wrapped around your elbows and tightened sharply. Henry bound your arms together as he fastened the buckle of his belt. He looked over his work and nodded before running fingers down your contorted shoulder blades, causing you to jump and accidentally release the smallest hiccup. You were a troublesome innocent to him. Still a little girl.

‘Goodness!’ He thought, ‘She is old enough to be my own daughter...’ But was there a hint of guilt in his black heart? Ha! Of course not!

His lips pressed beneath your ear and purred “Tell me little bunny, what did you think of me? When we first met I mean, back in my study.”

“I thought nothing!” You lied, wriggling beneath him, you were trying so hard to turn your body over and face him, you were only able to when he ripped your shoulder over and pressed his hands down on your shoulders with his face so close to yours, your noses touched.

“Oh really, because not for one moment do I believe that. I believe you…had an attraction didn’t you?” he leered, his tongue licking his lips.

 His large hands cupped the sides of your face, pulling you against his moistened lips, his tongue pushing past your soft lips, pressing against your own.

Your eyes completely widened, pupils constricted. You were stunned by his shocking boldness. A kiss was the last thing you thought he’d do, you didn’t think such a ‘love’ used thing would be in his abilities after his rash behaviour the night before.

 However, when you felt his large tongue pushing itself past your lips like a slimy thick worm, you felt sickened. You tried to pull away but he held your face against his own, you strained against the belt except was unable to lift a limb to him.

You thought about one of his smart quotes about your mouth…‘you sure have a mouth on you’. Henry felt a lift in your lips that formed a small smile against his lips. Cheeky and brave for once, you hatched a nasty thought. You returned his affectionate attentions.

Henry grumbled to himself, he didn’t want you to relax, he wanted you to be scared of him and hate him. He wanted you to fight! It was too strange to him and felt just so wrong after initially fighting against him, you now were warming up to his touch?

Instead a second later he felt pain of raw fire- he yelped and ripped his face back while feeling his bottom lip; he was bleeding! you had bitten him! He couldn’t believe it! But in a way he could!

And despite the agonising bite mark, he loved it!

He may have wanted your submission yes, but he also wanted to see the red in your eyes. Henry wanted your loyalty and your hate. Deep down he considered he enjoyed a woman disliking him and looking at him with disgust written on your face; it awakened what he felt when he saw his wife.

He admitted to his own butler that he loved to fuck his wife as she screamed how much he repulsed her and his existence with his cock tightly shoved inside of her cunt. Something about the situation would always arouse him.

Last night he was bored with you. After all, you only cried and begged. He wanted his governess to screech and claw just how you did now.

Besides, this gave him reason to ‘dutifully punish’ you. Your biting teeth was the second time you’d assaulted him in the last ten minutes, Henry now wanted to hear you really scream.

His hand sharply slapped across your face enticing the very noise he craved.

“You’ll pay for that,” he barked as he pulled your whole torso forwards across his lap, lifting your legs onto your knees, below your chest was his lap. He raised his clean palm high above his head and whipped it down hard against your bottom.

You didn’t scream, didn’t cry, didn’t wail and didn’t weep. You choked.

All the air had encased itself inside your chest until Henry softly rubbed your arse; a little silent choke emitted from your lips before the air escaped in terrible wailing sobs.

“Hurts doesn’t it, little rabbit, sore beneath your cotton tail?” The Earl cooed as he rubbed his governess’ bottom in a circular motion before swiftly spanking you again. You squealed from shock more than pain this time as you struggled to roll off his lap.

“Let me go! I demand you release me! How dare y-”, but your words were cut off by three successive spanks to your rear, causing you to gasp, rendering you speechless.

He goaded you, “I’m sorry my dear, I didn’t hear what you were saying, care to repeat it?” You may have been humiliated, however you were not going to cave in again!

You looked back over your shoulder at him with your meanest scowl, “I said ‘how dare you touch me!?’ You disgustin-“ but was once again rendered speechless as he pelted upon you an additional four more hits to your rear. Heaving and shaking, fight away more tears you growled at him; steam practically blew out of your nose and ears.

The Earl paused, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Tell me little bunny rabbit, have you ever been spanked before?” he rubbed your bottom again, “Probably not... your father was far too busy gambling his wealth to lay hands on his daughter.”

You perked your head and listened carefully, ‘how did he know about fathers’ money?’

“The west country are such a soft people, not to mention squirmy cowards,” he continued. “But that was just a warm up.”

You were fast losing whatever equal footing you thought you had. As you felt his spidery hand rub its way up your bare leg in between your thighs you struggled against his lap, feeling his palm increase the pressure against your spine. His hand froze and pulled away. He laughed loudly at you and patted your bottom.

“Awe little rabbit, by all means struggle! It is a tremendous show to the audience and surely you can feel me press against your rubbing chest, can’t you darling?” He asked, emphasizing the hardness within his pants by grinding up into your ribs.

You felt nausea as though you were going to cause terrible indigestion. He was true to his word as you felt the hard poking of a firm bulge against you. You froze, aware that your motion was indeed causing your tormentor increasing pleasure.

“Oh, don’t stop now bunny, that felt so good!” he taunted.

“Let me go, Henry!” you yelled, careful to remain still against him.

SMACK!

Tears sprung to your eyes, a squeal escaped you, the stinging in your cheeks were ten times worse than his others he’d administrated before.

“Do – not – ad-dress – me – by – my – name,” he grunted, spanking your with each word, seven hard spanks in all, echoing around the room.

You focused all your energy on keeping silent, not acknowledging his power over you. Your pride meant everything if you were to continue to fight and escape, you couldn’t give in, not even in the face of such torment.

“You shall address me as befitting your stature – and let me emphasize, dear little girl, that you may be the governess of my children and I may be your employer, but we are in no way equals,” He stated, as he ran the palm of his hand over your, feeling the heat radiating off your buns.

“Do I make myself clear?” he asked.

You remained silent, you wouldn’t let him get the satisfactory of hearing your cry again, tears he would see but no cry, no matter how hard he hit your, you would not give up!

Clearly not impressed nor pleased by your, Henry dug his finger nails into one of your reddened cheeks, piercing the tender flesh, causing you to whimper in pain and then fall back to quick silence.

“I didn’t hear you. What did you say?” he huffed.

“Yes! Yes... you were very clear,” you gasped and repeated “We are not equals.”

Feeling him lessen the pressure on your hot arse, you hesitated before continuing.

You clenched your whole body and braced for his rage you knew would spit out when you said very smartly, “From our very first meeting Lord Dalgliesh, I discovered the evidence to prove that you are in fact…inferior to me.”

‘Inferior…uncouth slug, foul pig, son of a bastards’ whore!'

The look he shared turned you colder than a corpse in grave mud....

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[nobilisseoblige]

[ TOUCH UP ] There's something to be said for a man having a look that's a bit more disheveled than rigidly perfect. And unfortunately for Shamir, that's not exactly commonplace amongst those who mill about on the grounds of Garreg Mach-- stuffy nobles who press their collars until they're harder than bricks, sticking straight up with no room to bend... the way every strand of hair is tucked into a perfect place, and there's absolutely nothing that even resembles 'rugged' on the people here. It looks good on women too, don't get her wrong. But her target right now is one Ferdinand (Von Aegir, he wouldn't let her forget that part). "Come on now. You think you can woo a woman like this? Change it up a bit. Here." Shamir reaches forward to gently grasp his collar, and she tugs on it a bit to open the top button of his shirt. A deft hand removes his silly little cravat, leaving space for a part of his neck to show-- this was progress, at least, and she frowns as she sizes him up for a moment. The mercenary gives a small nod to herself before reaching up, tousling his hair to make it a bit messier; he'd rock a dashing, roguish look if he'd let himself. "You could open another button, but I'll leave that to your discretion. See? Already better. Maybe you can score a date today after all."

"h-huh?"

her finger unlatched his first button, pads dusting his neckline ever so slightly to make him run red from that line, up. she couldn't have painted a better picture, but he was so clearly out of his element when it came to proximity. especially one so forward as hers. "Instructor…. I mean, Miss Shamir…" he swallowed, Adam's apple leaping for a second to temper his nervousness. he should tell her. he should tell her. maybe she would be proud of him. or… well… maybe—

"I… well." clearing his throat nervously, Ferdinand attempted to still his boat before it careened into the sea. such unsafe tides, and he was but a young man with a compass and no needle. "you know, Instructor, I was uh…" tongue twisted, he went back to her venerated title before long. his eyes flicked to the unbuttoned collar and back to her fingers. adept. unaffected. she was so unaffected by all this.

"I was actually going to change soon. I had something looser in mind."

grazing his own fingers against his neck, Ferdinand reddened by the ears as she tossed his hair roughly about—a moment of chaos in his otherwise centered life. was he reading into it too much? what was dysfunctional interpretation if not a stretching of how you felt in the moment? but (he swallowed again, this time feeling the touch of his hairs out of place) what was this moment?

"thank you for aiding me on my… journey."

his ears burned.

"do you find it easy to tease me? perhaps you'd reconsider after seeing me later."

and so rocks the boat. and so the boat rocks back.

[piinnkhearteyes]

concrete hearts

tw: cigarettes, arguements

you hadn’t seen him in four years, not since you were sixteen and the summer felt endless and full of possibilities. not since his scowl had been sharper than his jawline, his words cutting like switchblade edges every time you dared to push back. you weren’t sure who started it—this rivalry between the two of you—but it stuck, like the sticky residue of soda cans on hot pavement. matt sturniolo hated you, and you made sure the feeling was mutual.

and it wasn’t just the little things—the petty jabs, the sarcastic remarks, the way he always seemed to roll his eyes a little harder when it came to you. no, matt was the kind of person who would go out of his way to make sure you knew he didn’t like you, and you’d always been more than happy to return the favor.

but that was then.

now, at twenty, you were different people—or so you liked to think. you’d traded clumsy ollies for fluid kickflips, scuffed vans for black sambas. your shitty ankles popped every time you landed a trick, a reminder that nothing stayed perfect forever. the city had changed too: neon storefronts replaced the mom-and-pop diners, and the skate park was overrun by preteens with tiktok accounts.

and matt? you didn’t know. you hadn’t wanted to know.

that was until you saw him again.

the first time you spotted him, you were skating down a half-lit alleyway off of main street, the weight of the world soothed by the familiar glide of your board on cracked asphalt. the glow of a cigarette caught your eye first—tucked behind his ear, unlit but still defiant. his back was to you, bent over, a can of spray paint hissing against the wall.

your stomach clenched in a way you didn’t expect.

he hadn’t noticed you yet, but you saw him, all of him. tattoos snaked their way up his forearms, black ink standing stark against his pale skin. his shoulders were broader now, his hair messier, a brown halo against the dim streetlight. there was a worn inhaler poking out of the pocket of his hoodie, and a song you vaguely recognized—chase atlantic—buzzed from a tinny speaker by his feet.

your board hit a crack, and he turned, the sound pulling him out of whatever trance he’d been in. his eyes were the same, that stormy gray-blue you remembered, darkened now by years and late nights and secrets you hadn’t been around to learn.

“shit,” he muttered, stepping back to assess you like you were an unexpected piece of graffiti someone else had left behind. “didn’t think i’d see you again.”

you smirked, masking the way your pulse tripped over itself. “funny, i was about to say the same thing.”

his eyes narrowed, sharp and familiar. “still skating, huh? thought you’d have wiped out for good by now.”

“and you’re still tagging like a wannabe banksy,” you shot back, kicking your board up to your hand. “thought you’d have figured out what to do with your life by now.”

the corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile but enough to set your teeth on edge. “what’s the fun in that?”

the air between you was heavy, buzzing with the kind of tension that used to define every conversation you’d ever had with him. you wanted to hate him still. wanted to remember why you used to glare at him across the room, why every word that came out of his mouth always felt like a challenge.

but you couldn’t.

not when he looked like this: alive and raw and entirely too comfortable standing in the middle of his chaos.

“guess not,” you said softly, stepping closer despite yourself.

he didn’t stop you, didn’t tell you to leave. you stood there in the glow of the streetlight, watching as the colors on the wall came together: a chaotic swirl of reds and oranges, a bleeding heart with cracks running through it, the words concrete hearts scrawled across the bottom.

“you always this dramatic?” you asked, leaning your shoulder against the wall, your voice teasing but softer now.

matt glanced at you, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t disdain either. “only when it comes to people like you.”

“people like me?”

“you know,” he said, tossing the empty can aside and reaching for another. “people who can’t stay away, even when they should.”

it hit you then—the weight of his words, the way they felt like an accusation and a confession all at once. you didn’t know if he meant you, if he was calling you out for skating straight into his orbit when you should’ve been skating away.

and you didn’t know why you stayed.

but you did.

[steviesummer]

Thanks to the lovely @famfarafa for this prompt! Sorry it took me so long, hope you enjoy it: “This is the Munson residence. Can’t come to the phone right now, please leave a message after the beep.”

“Hey Eddie,” Steve’s voice came out from the answering machine, but it sounded strange. “I’m gonna have to reschedule our movie - ouch! Hey, stop that - night. Something - no, don’t - sorry, something came up.”

Eddie was concerned. He checked that his walkie was on - it was and the volume up. Didn’t seem like it was Upside Down related or a major emergency. Robin hadn’t said anything about Steve seeming off when he stopped by Family Video to pick up a few tapes. And despite sound odd, Steve didn’t sound particularly stressed or in pain.

Still, the message was very odd. He decided it wouldn’t hurt to find out exactly what was going on and dialed the Harrington home. It rang several times before going to voicemail; Eddie hung up before he had to listen Robert Harrington’s self-important message.

He didn’t want to use the walkie and panic everyone, so that left him only one option.

~.~.~

“Steve, you there?” Eddie called out as he open the front door, not waiting for an answer. “I got your - is that blood? Why is there blood?? Steve?” If he hadn’t been worried before, he was after he saw the mess that was the entryway.

The normally neat and tidy front hall was messier than he had ever seen it. There was mud and a few small sticks all over, plus a red smear on the wall that was clearly not paint. Eddie heard movement in the kitchen and immediately abandoned the entry, only to stop abruptly in the door.

“Steve, what is that?”

“Eddie!” Steve looked up. “What are you doing here?”

The fact that he sounded genuinely surprised did not make Eddie feel better. “What am I doing here? Youreally left some cryptic voice-mail canceling out date and didn’t expect me to come looking for you? After everything that’s happened in this town?”

Steve paused. “Okay, that’s fair. I just found this sweetheart by the road on my way home. She’s hurt but the vet’s office isn’t open this late. I couldn’t just leave her there and I didn’t think Wayne would appreciate me bringing a cat to the trailer with no warning.”

“Are you sure that’s a cat?” Maybe it was because of how the entry looked or maybe it was her size, but Eddie wasn’t sure he believed this was actually a cat. He fidgeted from his place in the doorway, watching as Steve realized this.

Steve smiled reassuringly at him. “Yeah. I think she’s a Maine Coon. My grandma had one, they get really big. Really sweet, though. Here, come see.” He patted the floor next to him.

Eddie walked over hesitantly to where Steve was sitting, navigating around the contents of the first aid kit strewn on the floor. He sat down behind Steve and moved so he could peer over his shoulder. Now that he was closer, he could see what Steve meant. He could also see the source of the blood from the entryway. Steve had wrapped her back leg in bandages but she had clearly bled on this shirt first. Steve caught him looking over his work.

Steve shrugged sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure exactly how to bandage a cat, but I figured it would be better than nothing.” Eddie smiled to himself. Not exactly what he expected of his evening but now that the panic had faded, nothing he couldn’t work with.

“Well,” Eddie started. “I can’t say I ever though I’d be okay with my boyfriend missing a date because of a girl, but I think I can make an exception this time. She is pretty cute.”

[wolverinedoctorwho]

[ID: Photos showing the progression of a chibi-style drawing of Gale Dekarios, done with marker and colored pencil. In Thorass, the word "Illusion" is written on the left side of Gale, while "Gale Dekarios, Wizard of Waterdeep" is written to his right. /End ID]

Did a chibi Gale!!! I really just wanted to practice drawing him. I know my current style is pretty repetitive (hell, I trace a cutout to get the base shape correct) but it's what I'm most comfortable/confident with right now. I'm currently flirting with the idea of making a Gale paper doll, so this gave me an idea of what he might look like!

More rambling under the cut!

Things I wish I'd done differently:

The bracers and belt. Dear gods. I tried the details in the base sketch and realized it looked awkward so I erased it, and then when I went to do my initial line I just started drawing them in again! Next time I draw this outfit I will definitely NOT ink those in that way!

I wish I could do more shading. I'm not really sure how to shade, but it's harder with colored pencils when your color options are limited and you can't just slap on a Multiply layer. I tried to shade on the leg with black colored pencil and I wish I had tried that on a different project first 😔. I also think the arms and torso blend together bc even with the little shading I tried they're still not distinct.

Overall I think I could have found a better balance with the details. The bracers and belt did not need to be that complicated compared to the pants and boots and earring. I just kind of got lost in the lines when I was trying to get the shape of Gale's belt figured out.

This is less a critique and more a lament, but I really wish I had more markers and some paint pens. They would have really spiced this up!

His eye shines looked so good in the sketch and then I messed them up with the first brown pencil and couldn't fix it 😞

Things I like in this piece:

I like the way the orb and the lines came out! I'm not very good with inking fine details like that, so I'm happy with the way it turned out.

I really like the shade of colored pencil I found for the robes. It's almost exactly the shade of the robes in game.

Though I wish I could have made the eyes darker, I still like the way they turned out. I'm not really sure how to draw eyes that aren't anime-girl-shaped, but I tried to convey Gale's sweetness and softness. (I did forget about the eye whites when drawing on his face-lines, though...)

Despite going overboard with the details I do still like that I was able to do them. The belt turned out messier than intended but I think I figured it out in the end, and having never drawn a bearded character before I think I did a decent job!

I was honestly really nervous about this one until I put down his hair and face colors. That was a really fun moment when it all came together! I think adding in color really helps with a style like mine, because otherwise I find the details kind of mush together.

By the way, I wrote "Illusion" in Thorass next to him because of how much the word gets associated with him in game. If you choose to do Gale's Weave Sex Scene, the book you look at on his balcony says "Illusion" in Thorass, albeit backwards and upside-down.

Things I want to work on next time I draw:

Body types!! I know when drawing in chibi style it's hard to show a character's actual body, but I want to make it obvious that this Gale is chubby!! I think widening the chest would help with that, and rounding out the torso in general as well.

Shading, as mentioned above. That might be something I have to practice with digital art, but maybe someone out there is an expert at colored pencil art and can throw me some advice.

I want to make him even Gale-ier. I wanted to include all his wrinkles and put some gray in his hair but the former is difficult in my style without making him look angry and the latter is hard when I don't have any silver drawing tools other than a regular pencil. I think he's pretty Gale-y already, but I want more.

I need to be more careful not to press my pencil in so hard when getting my shape down and sketching. I can see lines in the paper where the sketch happened :(

I gotta get a better idea of what his boots look like. And learn how to draw boots in general. Lol.

[viviraptor]

Hi ... for the artist ask meme, 4, 10 and 18 ? ^_^

HEYY thanks for sending something!!

4. piece you wish got more love?

if "love" specifically means interaction/popularity then this is a lot harder to answer now than it was years ago. it took me a while to get over the numbers game but i do still get that bummed-out feeling when ppl's enthusiasm for a piece doesn't really match my own, if that makes sense?

i think the last time i felt that way was when i first posted this shrimpship painting, i put a LOT of hours and care into it and i really really love it, i consider it one of the best shrimpship things i've put out. but the notes came in slow in those first few days, and it was easy to compare its performance to the drawings i was doing for a monthly challenge in that same month, that had less time put into them but did a bit better.

but like every time that happens, i found ten times more joy in seeing the 5-6 "regulars" in my notes telling me how much they like it! and my own opinion still stands and that's more important than anything

10. how do you deal with artblock?

in a lot of ways! when i want to draw something but i feel like the process really isn't going my way, what helps the most is just stepping away for a while, for as little as an hour to as long as a day or two. you can't really force yourself to be in "the zone", any attempt to push through usually just frustrates me so i just wait it out.

if i still wanted to draw SOMETHING though i try to make experimental things without the expectation of it looking any good. picture studies usually do the trick, and changing up your regular art process is fun too, like skipping the lineart step or working on just one layer. the point is to have fun and loosen up, eventually i can go back to whatever i was doing with fresh eyes and steadier hands!

18. something you feel like you need to work on?

DRAWING. TAKES. SO. LOOONG FOR ME ANGRY FACE. ideas come slowly in general and i have super deep-seated perfectionism that i'm still whittling away at, the simplest of drawings can take 6 hours, maybe 3 if i really rushed myself. on top of that i try to keep a very consistent neat style for commissions specifically, but that usually results in those pieces taking 10+ hours on average which my prices... don't really compensate for.

that's what makes experimenting and loosening up super important, i need an outlet to make messier things while in the middle of making that super clean thing i'm getting paid for. i'm probably doing better than i was when it comes to perfectionism, i just need to make more conscious efforts to leave good enough alone, especially when the stuff i get hung up about would probably go unnoticed to anyone else... GYAH

[cthulhus-beyblade]

So, I agree with the sentiment here, there are undeniably things that are worse now, such as single use plastic stuff, and everything is generally less durable.

However

The claim that roman concrete was somehow better than modern concrete is just. Not true. Modern concrete is many, many times stronger than roman concrete. The process for making concrete is so specialized that I can't properly get into it here, but there's a video by veritasium I believe that goes into all that.

Steel is the thing I specialize in, however. So I can tell you exactly how wrong the statement "modern steel is worse than Damascus steel" is.

(Sorry to everyone who has to delay with a long post, im on mobile rn and can't do the "keep reading" thing)

First, what is Damascus steel? Damascus can refer to one of two things, those being either a pattern welding technique, that is done for looks more than anything else, and true Damascus, which takes into account the steel types, and stacks different steels to produce specific qualities in specific parts of a blade.

Most people, when they say Damascus, mean pattern-welding. That's how you get those very pretty striations on the blade, commonly seen in katanas, but does appear in other blade types as well.

[Image id: a short machete with a wood handle, laying across a leather sheath, the blade covered in the darker striations common in Damascus pattern-welding. End id]

This is purely a cosmetic thing. It can slightly alter the constitution of the blade, but only if the forge welds are done poorly, which will make the blade fracture more readily.

True Damascus takes into account the steel being used, and most commonly appears in real katanas, made by accredited blade smiths. This is used in conjunction with differential hardening to give the edge of the blade high durability, so as to make sharpening easier, and to ensure edge retention, while making the spine of the blade more pliable, to ensure the blade does not shatter when used. This differential hardening is what gives a katana that distinctive two-tone to its blade, as the edge has clay painted on it to preserve its harder heat treatment when treating the spine.

Now, there is a third thing Damascus can mean. And this third thing is what it actually historically was, which is also known as wootz steel.

Wootz steel is normally what people are talking about when they make the claim that old steel was better than modern steel. It is technically a variety of Damascus, although it is believed that Damascus came into being as a poor imitation of wootz. Wootz steel can be identified by how much messier the striations appear, and a distinctive pattern of small dots or swirls.

[Image id; a segment of a blade forged from wootz steel, showing striations that resemble tight woodgrain. There is an engraving on the blade in what appears to be Arabic, which translates as "O fulfiller of needs, the work of Assad Allah." End id]

Wootz steel was quite good. For its time, it was most likely the best steel available, due to the tight welds, and the spacing of high carbon steel interspersed with low carbon steel, or even iron. Part of getting it right is ensuring that the carbon striations align with your cutting edge in just the right way, and at just the right places. Otherwise, your steel is much worse than conventional 1095 high carbon.

So, while wootz steel, when made properly, does tend to be ever so slightly better for edge retention and durability that modern 1095, the only application it would have use in is blades. And given that we no longer primarily use blades in conflict, but rather guns, tanks, missiles, etc. Wootz steel simply isn't useful to us as a society anymore. Good 1095 steel will outperform it 9 times out of 10.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

--

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor. 

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you. 

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall. 

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud. 

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though. 

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself. 

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for. 

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts. 

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch. 

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours. 

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast. 

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing. 

So, yeah. 

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin. 

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting. 

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week. 

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role. 

You almost burst out laughing. 

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure. 

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking. 

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop. 

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table. 

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?" 

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud. 

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table. 

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t. 

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression. 

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back. 

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh. 

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty. 

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness. 

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises. 

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never. 

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response. 

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually. 

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it. 

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it. 

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck. 

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you. 

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going. 

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue. 

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's. 

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss. 

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away. 

It started out with a kiss. 

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss. 

It was only a kiss. 

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it. 

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face." 

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over. 

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace. 

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his. 

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name." 

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip. 

"I doubt it," he purred. 

Yeah. 

Jungkook was right. 

Ah, well. 

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms. 

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips. 

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm. 

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand. 

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm. 

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name. 

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed. 

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him. 

Oh, fuck. 

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his. 

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered. 

Yours. 

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk. 

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin. 

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd. 

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick. 

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far. 

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl. 

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin. 

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat. 

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do. 

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled. 

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you. 

--

masterpost

[fictionfunshop]

Whore Phase - One Shot (Spencer Reid)

Thanks @moderatelydelusional for the inspo - I hope I did your idea justice.

18+ - Filth and not for children's eyes.

MGG / Spencer Reid are killing my feels

........

*200 LIKES!!! You've all made me happy. Currently writing more filth for your eyes **

You weren’t expecting him to text.

He usually called you when he wanted to see you, purring down the line telling you all the filthy things he wanted to do to you, which always made your thighs clench. You decided to have a Friday night in; you already filled your belly with your favourite take-out, had a long hot bath with a new book you picked up earlier in the week. Now you were sitting here catching up on some trashy television you dare not tell anyone you watch, painting your toenails when your phone came alive, making you jump and smudging your baby toe in the process.

Can I come over? – Spencer

No hello, or how are you, which you knew meant he had a bad case and needed you to let off some frustration. You understood and didn’t mind him using you like this, your Friday night instantly looking up and thanking your earlier self for taking your time shaving. You immediately type back your reply.

Course. See you soon.– Y/N

You jumped up from the sofa and go to your bedroom to see what nice underwear you had clean, instantly slipping on a lavender chemise set you picked up a few weeks ago, immediately thinking of him. You were fully aware of the agreement you both had – he told you he didn’t want a girlfriend because of his job, and you were working through a bad breakup and wanted some no-strings fun, so when he was free, he would come over to yours, never his and you would both “chill out” AKA screw each other’s brains out.

You knew the absolute basics about each other. You knew he worked for the FBI, which you thought was an elaborate chat up line until one night he came to you straight from a case, his badge in his pocket, gun on his hip and stacks of paperwork pouring out of his bag. You knew he was an only child and that his mother lived in Vegas, his dad not to be seen. He enjoyed reading, teasing some of the titles on your shelf, and he was bisexual, something which didn’t surprise you in the slightest when he admitted he had been with men before you. Even though he knew next to nothing about you, he never made you feel like a whore, he never slipped out in the middle of the night, and if he was free the following day, breakfast was always his treat at the café around the corner or the near-by diner.

You wandered back into the sitting room, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge and pouring yourself a glass. You sat back down on your couch, your mind now on high alert that he was coming to see you, thinking of all the ways tonight is going to go down.

He has fucked you senseless in every corner of this place.

From your location on the couch where you straddled him one lazy Sunday morning he was off work, the tiny kitchen table now being held together by prayers after you both came back here drunk from separate nights out, or the shower where two weeks previous he teased you until you were delirious before pinning you against the tiled wall. You didn’t have time to register anything else when your obnoxious buzzer rang throughout the apartment. You buzzed him up and left the front door open. You go to fix him a glass of wine and change the channel to a random news station. You’re still in the kitchen when you hear him drop his bags near the door and take his shoes off before you go to meet him in the sitting room.

He looks sexy but exhausted. The circles under his eyes evident, and you wonder why he came here instead of straight to his place. His hair is sticking in all directions in desperate need of a trim, and his shirt is creased from sitting on the plane. He’s attempting to take off his tie as he wanders over to you, interrupting the process by giving you a quick peck on the lips.

“Here, let me,” you hand him the glass of wine before you slide it from around his neck quickly; you fold it neatly and hand it back to him. He gives you a small smile before stuffing it into his pocket and downing the rest of the glass of wine. He places the glass down on the coffee table before gathering you into his arms and a tight hug.

“You look beautiful as always,” he mumbled in your ear. “This for me?” his fingers rub the strap of the fabric.

“Yeah, I got it a few weeks ago. You like?” he nods his head, his eyes trailing all over your body, his hands following their path. The flimsy material did little to hide anything from him.

“I love your body, “ his hands grip your hips, pushing them into his, feeling him get hard through his slacks, “knowing you were waiting for me, in this…” he gripped the back of your head before clashing your lips together.

His hands wandered around you, cupping your ass, making their way up the back of the thin vest, his fingers running down your spine as you get to work, unbuttoning his shirt, as soon as you could get your hands to feel the flesh underneath you did, your nails digging into his shoulders. He broke the kiss and took your hand in his, and lead you to your bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and by instinct, you knelt between his thighs, your lips meeting again. This time your hand was rubbing the bulge; his were tangled in your hair. You wasted no time in undoing his trousers and releasing him from his boxers. He sucked in his breath when he felt your lips on his hips and nipping at his thighs as you gripped him, squeezing his base with every fluid motion. His finger tangles back into your hair when he feels your tongue lick the head of his cock, your lips wrap around him, sliding him down your throat with ease. Although he was bigger than other guys you have been with, you had enough practice with him. You look up at him; he was staring back at you.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he encourages you, as he grips your hair tighter and you open your mouth wider, signalling him that he’s in control.

Looking at him above you, his hair even messier than before and his lip tucked behind his teeth, you could feel how wet you were getting. You were sure he could see how hard your nipples were through the flimsy material covering you. You couldn’t control yourself; the hand not working on him goes between your legs and dips into your centre to find yourself right before you circled your clit, moaning as you continued to suck him off.

He lifted your head off his cock, spit dripping down your chin.

“Are you touching yourself? Does sucking my cock get you off? “ You nod your head.

“ I want you to show me how you do it..”

This was a new idea from him.

You stand up and take off your chemise and underwear before you crawl onto the bed. As you settle down on the pillow, he stands up too and undresses before settling between your thighs on his knees. You pinch your nipples hard and let out a moan as you feel his fingers lightly trace the outside of your thighs. You move your hand down between your legs before you settle your fingers back into your centre, curling them to reach the spot he does with ease. You crane your head back and let out a sigh as you settle back into a rhythm, occasionally pulling out to circle the bundle of nerves that makes your leg twitch and your hips match your hands. You feel him pin you down to the mattress.

“Look at me, Y/N, “ Your eyes snap open as they meet his, now completely black, the hand not on your hip, slowly stroking himself. “This is better than I imagined. Is this what you do when no one is around to fuck you?”

You nod your head as you let his name sigh from your lips. You can feel how close you are; you’re now dripping between your thighs, a thin sheen of sweat now covering your body, and he knows it too. He bends his head down, his hair lightly tickling your chest, and his mouth finds your hard nipple, his teeth sinking into it lightly before he circles his tongue around it. That’s all you need from him to let go, his mouth moving to yours to capture your screams, and you rode out your orgasm. You open your eyes to see him staring at you, still hard. He lifts the hand between your thighs and licks your two fingers clean as he stares at you. His actions turned you on further as you felt yourself throb.

Nothing else needed to be said between you. He climbs on top of you and settles himself between your thighs. He nips at your neck before he slips in; you can feel yourself grip around his cock, still not used to his size. He pauses for a moment before he slams back into you, hissing in your ear. By instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him go deeper, hitting your cervix as he bottoms out; It should hurt but it feels like heaven. He settles into a quick rhythm, fucking whatever problems he had out on you, but you don’t care. The feeling is building up in the pit of your stomach quickly as moans slip from your mouth.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasps, a smirk on his lips.

He knows that you’re in the same delirious state as him. His hair is matted around the base of his neck; you can feel it around your fingers, which have tangled themselves there.

“Come for me, Spence, I’m close…so close…” you beg him.

“Me too, won’t last long…”

One of his hands moves from above your head to the headboard to keep up the rhythm as one of your hand moves between your legs, and you rub your clit, he stares down at the show before kissing you again. You bite his lip and tighten even further around him as your orgasm washes over you, chanting his name as he continues to ram into you. A few more sloppy strokes, and he joins you, swear words fall from his mouth, and his eyes squeeze closed. He pecks your lips again before he collapses next to you. You both lay there for a few moments trying to catch your breath before you get up to clean yourself off in the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, you can see some red marks on your neck from him already appearing. You pop back into your kitchen to grab some water before you head back into your room. He’s put his boxers back on and is sitting up against the headboard.

“Here, I figured you’d want one” you hand over a bottle as he gives you a soft smile.

“Thanks for letting me come over.”

“Well, it wasn’t a hard decision, a hot FBI agent who wants to have sex with me…” he rolls his eyes at your playfulness as he takes a swig.

“Well, this FBI agent is tired now after no sleep for nearly 30 hours, so how about we finish this off in the morning and some pancakes?”

What girl can say no to that?

[forthehpfanboys]

Three is a Crowd

Pair: Remus Lupin x Reader x Sirius Black; he/him.

Summary: Sirius, you and Remus weren't scared to hide your relationship, but when it came to more.. Private matters, they obviously preferred keeping it personal. Plus, who doesn't love teasing Remus?

Warnings: SMUT (MDI), dirty talk, poly relationship, Wolfstar (but is that even a warning?), hair pulling, short mention of daddy. use of a collar at the end. If I missed any, please dm me.

Notes: Me, knowing damn well I have a busy life, but takes every request I get because I can’t say no. Oh, and the gif by me using other people's gifs- Might make a part two. Top Remus tho. 

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

It wasn’t hard to catch the boy's attention. James and Lily loved to joke that they were wrapped around your finger, which they were. All you had to do was sway your hips a little bit or bend over right or just lick your lips innocently. They really were, they weren't afraid to admit it and of course you used it to your advantage, but you still love them. That always came first.

 Sirius and Remus had fallen head over heels for you during their time during Hogwarts. Both could pinpoint it exactly. The two men were already an item when you showed up at the school- a transfer student. You were introduced to them by Lily, something about you being a distant cousin of hers and you quickly became a new founded Marauder. 

Remus fell for you first. It was around the time they were all studying to become animagus and he discovered you were bloody brilliant! After months of struggling with the stupid ritual, you were the final piece they needed to figure it all out. And you didn’t judge him over something he couldn’t control, so that was a bonus to him, of course. But how could you judge him for his lycanthropy? Almost everyone in the wizarding world hated him for this one simple thing, 

Meanwhile, Sirius’ was a lot more simple. He noticed you by your slick comebacks. Like holy Merlin’s beard- Sirius was convinced your words could cause someone to physically combust. He’d never seen that happen, but he has seen you make 8th years cry. He’s also a hundred percent certain you have a thesaurus lying under your pillow. He didn’t know the word ‘imbecile’ had so many synonyms. And you helped him help his best friend so of course he fell in love with you.

So, when you fell for them, a natural love for being between both boys formed. This random craving would kick in whenever you were around the two of them. Whether it was you three walking to the next class or sitting in the Gryffindor common room, you just had to be between them. It was quite literally your favorite place on this planet. But there were rules- of course there were.  

One of the main rules was no teasing in front of friends. Believe it or not, James had a limit on how much sexual tension he could sit through in one lunch period, so he enforced the rule, which was.. Unusual to say the least. Usually Remus created the rules to keep you and Sirius in check. He had a switch and a sub under his belt and it could be a struggle, especially when they were bratty and they’d team up against him.

Which is exactly what you two had been doing all day; harassing poor Moony despite whoever was near. During potions, Sirius had palmed Remus while you playfully whispered in the werewolf’s ear, calling him daddy and asking for help with your most innocent voice. Watching your boyfriend squirm and slap Sirius’ hand away was genuinely humorous. It became down right funny when he threatened to punish both of you by not talking to you, but you both knew he’d do more than that. Knowing Remus would drag you both by your ties to the dorm room and straight up ruin you two, you both eased off him, letting him continue his notes in peace, but once potions were over, the teasing immediately continued.

Soon enough, classes were over and the three of you were walking back to the dorms. It was easy to see Remus was sick of your shit, so while he led you to his prefect room, you and Sirius were looking at each other. Sirius shrugged, looking as laid back as he felt, but you were a tad more nervous. Sometimes Remus could be downright mean. 

“You two are insufferable!” Remus hollered, his hand rubbing his temple as he shoved open his door. “I know you love my reactions, guys, but seriously? Was grabbing my ass over my robe necessary?” He had his arms crossed over his chest and turned around to glare at you and Sirius. 

“You know it was, baby.” Sirius winked while shutting the door behind him. He walked around you, dragging a hand across your lower back before diving onto Remus’  bed. He laid on his back, spreading his legs and placing his hands behind his head. Your eyes shamelessly dragged across the sliver of pelvic bone peaking out under his white collared shirt.

“I thought it was a bit much.” You shrugged, looking over to Moony’s glowing eyes. A smirk grew across your lips when he pointed at you, his eyes narrowing at you.

“Being a kiss ass does not mean you’re free, mister. You’re in just as much trouble as that one.” His point moved to the man laying on the bed, who clearly couldn’t care less. He ran a hand through his hair and plopped down onto the edge of the bed. He even smacked Sirius’ hand away when it gripped his hip. “Down, boy.”

“Ouchies! My pride.” Sirius mocked your voice and rubbed his hand, a chuckle leaving his lips. He couldn’t help but lick his lips. His dark eyes flicked over to you, his smirk growing as he nodded his head in the direction of Remus’ back.

“Good. I’m mad at you.” The werewolf ducked his head down before running a hand through his hair, making the curly locks messier than usual. He beckoned you over with two curling fingers and waited patiently for you to stand in front of him. Once you were in arms reach, he cupped both of your cheeks in each hand and smiled at you, bringing your face closer to his. “What am I going to do with you?” He whispered, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“I’m not sure, but I know Sirius technically did more damage than I did. I’m your bestest boy.” You grinned, grabbing his wrists and kissing a palm. Your grin turned into a side smirk when Sirius let out a weak ‘hey!’ behind your brunette boyfriend. 

Suddenly, Remus’ arms were twisting around your waist and he was falling backwards onto the bed, taking you down with him. You let out a yelp while colliding with your soft boyfriend's chest.

“I think I know what I’m going to do with you.” Remus’ head was resting on Sirius’ tummy, allowing the animagus to run his fingers through soft hazel nut locks, which Remus easily ignored. Meanwhile, Lupin was cheekily slipping his hand under your shirt. His calloused palms glided across your skin, rubbing your hip gently before moving up to your belly. “I’m going to ignore the little bastard behind me and I’m going to focus on you, pretty boy.”

“Hey! (Y/n) messed with you too, Rem! You’re being unfair!” Sirius sat up a little, bracing his body weight on his elbows as he glared down at his freckle covered partner. His jaw dropped when Remus flicked his nose before skillfully tugging your shirt over your head. “Un-fuckin’-believable.” Sirius grumbled, laying back on the bed and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Your smart mouth is why I’m ignoring you.” Remus spoke nonchalantly, one hand slipped into your back pocket, gave your butt a tight squeeze, while the other steadily began climbing toward your chest. His hand in your pocket held your hips down while his hips grinded up into yours. His eyes darkened at the needy whine that left your lips when his rough thumb pad ran over one of your nipple.

See, Remus always enjoyed seeing you react to him. He could write down all of it. He could fill enough books with his favorite things about you to cause an empty Hogwarts library to overflow. How your eyes would roll back into your skull, how your jaw would go slack with need and how your breath catches in the middle of your throat, leaving you breathless, how you’d moan his name. He loved wrecking you, utterly destroying you.

His scar covered hand moved up to your hip, getting a steadier grip so he could really raise his hips and roll them against yours. The hand on his chest delicately rolled a nipple between the thumb and forefinger. He thought you were a piece of art, painted just for him. Your heart was pounding in your ears. Remus was quickly becoming the only coherent thought in your head. You could smell his perfume and it was only fogging up your head worse than his touch. You let out a moan, your eyelids drooping a tad.

"You like that, baby?" he whispered into your open mouth, kissing the corner before sliding his lips down to the corner of your jaw. He licked a fat, flat line across the point, running up to your earlobe before sucking on it. 

The werewolf grinded up into you harder, a growl emitting from his throat that would scare even the toughest of creatures. He let out a loud, breathy loan when you nodded and copied his hip movements. 

"Of course you do. You're not a brat or a whiney bitch- you're perfect." 

Suddenly, Sirius was sitting up and Remus was going silent, almost frozen in his place. Both were listening quite intently over your heavy breathing when loud, stomping footprints made themselves known. Sirius watched in amusement while Remus threw you on to the empty bed space next to him and magicked a blanket over the both of you.

James was pushing open the door about as loudly and hazardously as his footsteps. The door bounced off the wall and collided with his still outstretched arm. You sat up, slowly coming back from the pleasure filled bliss, and slowly becoming more and more pissed you just got cock-blocked by one of your more oblivious friends.

“James, sorry, mate, we’re in the mi-” Sirius was rudely cut off by the messy haired idiot. Spit flew from James’ mouth as he spoke aggressively, his hand waving around as he spoke.

"Can you believe him?!" the Seeker hollered, acting as if his friends, best friends knew immediately what he was talking about. He strode into the middle of the room, pacing in front of the polygamous couple, clearly pissed. It didn't take long for Peter to follow in after, either. 

"No, Prongs, you're not exactly telling us anything." Remus spoke up, acting as if he totally wasn't just grinding against you. He was good at keeping his voice level and that it had you confused. 

"Little Sour Grape Snape thinks he can try to push that whole fiasco on me like I meant for it to happen?" James yelled out again, almost completely ignoring Remus. Peter sat on the bed across from the trio, his eyes glued to James as he paced. You looked at Sirius, who turned to you, and shrugged, scooting to sit right next to Remus.  

"Wanna share what's goin' on, Pete?" Sirius asked, finally scooting to be face to face with the soft boy, and sitting on the other side of Remus. His hand landed on Remus' thigh, gently rubbing over the blanket.

The chubby boy played with his fingers, his mouth opening quickly to tell the tale of Snape and his stupid complaining and blood status shit. However, Remus, nor you, could focus because Sirius’ hand was moving under the blanket and going straight between Remus’ legs. 

The sun was setting behind the vast forest, effectively blocking natural light, leaving the room slightly colder and darker than before. Sirius knew it was hard to see what was going on under the blanket, so all carefulness got thrown out the window. 

Sirius' hand slid between Remus' thighs, using a hand to hide his smirk. He nodded his head along, as if he was really listening and invested in the story. You turned to Sirius, following his arm and the lump under the blanket and got the idea- and it only became reinforced when Sirius gave you a dramatic wink.

Your own hand slid under the blanket, landing on your werewolf boyfriend's knee, you thumb caressing it gently. Your hand didn’t stay there long. You began to move it up, moving slowly, just inch by inch, stopping suddenly when Remus’ hand clamped around your wrist.

“Boys, stop it.” Remus growled out, but it seemed more directed to Sirius. You were worried for a second that James or Peter heard, but when they kept going on and on, delving deeper and deeper into the story, you realized they were absolutely clueless. You decided to test the waters, slowly running your hand down and then back up, a tad higher, but Moony left his hand on your wrist.

“I said, cut it out. Now.” The brunette’s voice was deep enough to cause a shudder to go down your spine and it went straight to your dick. You jumped when his hand landed on your thigh, giving you a warning squeeze that you once again ignored and moved your hand closer to the inside of his thigh. 

You felt fingers run over yours at the top of his thigh and suddenly Remus’ thigh muscles were tightening. Padfoot had run his fingers over his hard-on. You knew you were both pushing it, but you kept going. You heard the brunette groan into his hand, his eyelids fluttering for a second before his gaze hardened and he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. You could hear the low growl emitting from this throat.

So while James and Peter told their elaborate and stupidly long story, you both teased your partner, enjoying how he tried to sit still and refused to even look at you two. Remus’ jaw was pulled tight, his eyes darker than the night, and his lips drawn into a thin line. Eventually, it came to an end, and the two left, James complaining loudly that no one cared like he did and suddenly the blanket was thrown across the room.

Remus stood up, giving you a glare that you couldn’t help but find hot as hell. You always loved riling him up, but you also loved managing to wiggle out of punishments. Sirius always bitched about you getting away nearly scot free, but you’d just blow raspberries at him. It was funny, honestly, not that you were laughing now. It was clear both of you took it too far.

“You two are in a whole heap of fucking trouble. I can not believe you today, especially you. You’re such a bad influence on my baby.” Remus pointed at Sirius, his brows drawn tight together in pure anger. His eyes were lit up like with fire and the veins on his neck were protruding from underneath the skin in the sexiest way. The simple feature had you clenching your thighs, hoping to release some tension or get a touch or something.

“Our baby. Besides, you’re overreacting Rem.” Sirius shrugged, leaning back on his hands. He blew a stand of hair out of his face, acting like everything was fine and dandy while his boyfriend had steam blowing out of his ears.

His simple sentence caused the brunette’s eye to twitch and you knew he had dug himself a bigger whole. You put your hands in your lap like a good boy and sat, watching the two argue, knowing it was going to be a very long night.

“Oh. I’m overreacting, huh? Do you wanna say that again?” His tone was so flat, almost like he was talking to an idiotic teenager who did exactly what he was told not to do, the messy haired animagus was sitting up quickly, realizing he fucked up- again.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant, baby, you’re getting my words twisted. I meant it’s my fault and that you might be getting a tad carried away. Please don’t be mad at me.” Sirius put on his most dazzling smile and softest voice. He was trying to do what you did so well and wiggle his way out of punishments. “Have I ever mentioned how hot you look when you're mad?”

It was funny, really, how Sirius was saying exactly what you were thinking.

“No, dove, I’m not mad at you.” Remus threaded his hand slowly through Sirius' wavy hair, a small, sweet smile spread across his cheeks. Sirius let out a sigh, a huge grin matching his boyfriends, his eyes sparkling with pure joy in the dim light.

"I'm glad you're so understanding, honey bunches. I love you so, so, so much." Sirius spoke, leaning forward, lips puckered to plant a kiss to the brunettes. You really thought he had known Moony better. Moony very, very rarely let either of you off the hook for something like this. 

However, Remus didn't let him move very far. His fingers latched onto the hair at the top of Sirius' head and ripped it back, causing his neck to bend backward and a whorish moan escaped his lips. Siri’s hands shot up to grip the one tugging his head back and he had to strain his eyes to look at his Moony.

"I’m fucking livid, Sirius. You're such a slut. Surely you know me better than that. Have I ever let you get away with behavior like that?” Remus waited for an answer. He wasn’t very patient though, because soon, he was pulling on the long locks again. “Well?”

“No.” Sirius groaned out. He seemed grumpy he couldn’t cute his way out of this like he was sure you could. You figured you could probably avoid the punishment by sneaking out, knowing Remus wouldn’t send a search party after you. And if you made a good enough excuse, he’d let you go with a harsh spanking and the promise of no orgasms for the day, which didn’t seem too terrible.

“Do I have to treat you like a slut?" his lips pressed against a pulse point but didn't place a single kiss to Sirius' lips. "Maybe I should put a muzzle on your filthy mouth and tie you up. Put you in the closet while I fuck our dearest silly, hmm?"

Remus pulled away, this time tugging Sirius' eyes level with his. The werewolf let out a snicker, enjoying the way tears of pain had gathered in his boyfriends eyeline.

"I should teach you who's in charge. What do you say pumpkin?" Remus turned to the spot where you were seated and noticed it was empty. "Pumpkin?" He turned around and saw you trying to sneak out of the dorms door.

He reached into his pocket, tsking all the while casting a spell that caused a collar to appear around your neck with a pop. You let out a squeak, your heads going to the new leather.

"Do I have to put both of you in your place?” Remus pushed Sirius away and walked swiftly over to you, grabbing the d ring on the front of your collar. He gave it a tug, effectively keeping your eyes on his. “You’re not being my good boy, are you?”

“No..” Unlike Sirius, you answered quickly. You looked up at Remus, eyes wide, owlish and feigning innocence. “But I-”

“Quiet. You’re usually so good for me, darling. I bet you picked up the disrespect from our boyfriend, didn’t you? I’m gonna have to fuck the attitude out of you.” He tugged on the d-ring, dragging you with him as he walked back over to the bed. “Sirius, against the headboard.”

Without hesitation, the niorette shuffled toward the headboard, resting his back against it. He learned quickly to keep his mouth shut. With the new space made, Remus pushed you forward and laughed when your hands came out in front of you to catch your fall, but slipped on the silk bedspread. Your chest collided with the plush mattress, a pained cry leaving your lips when your knees collided with the wooden floor.

“Owie, Rem!” You turned to look back at him, but he grabbed your hair and forced your cheek against the mattress. You looked back at him, your cheeks turning pink with embarrassment and you tried to pout your way out of this, like usual.

“Shut up, bunny. Daddy’s not going easy on you this time, so be a good boy and take what I fucking give you.”

[coffee--writes]

The Message on the Wall

Pairing: James Potter x gn!Reader - Marauders x Reader Content

Word Count: 5.9k (jdklfdh im sorry) 

Warnings: Underage Drinking, Implications of... yeah. I think that’s about it. 

Requested: Yes, a long time (i feel bad for only getting to it but i hope the nonnie stuck around to see this piece) by an anon who asked for James x Reader with childhood best friends to lovers trope. 

Summary: In which, James Potter was busy writing himself a message on the wall but was too blind to read what he had to say. 

Pictures. 

In actuality they were only images. For Muggles, they stood stagnant, for James Potter they moved slightly. 

But in deeper meaning pictures were moments in time captured in a frame. They were a personal reminder of things that were, things that used to be and anything else that didn’t fall into one of the other two categories. 

James Potter adored pictures. His room was littered with them. A handful were of Quidditch players and Tutshill Tornados merchandise. One picture of him and his parents sat on the nightstand beside his bed. But adjourned on the wall to the left was a mostly blank wall. One small Tornados banner was pinned against the soft red paint and in the middle a picture he was particularly fond of. 

The film captured James at the age of four. A broom was clutched in his left hand and a toothy smile on his face as the wind rustled his hair causing it to stick up more than it already did. Beside him was you, your eyes crossed and your tongue licking a swirled lolly. 

When his mother had shown him the picture you had just left for home, making a young James quite sad that his friend couldn’t stay just a little longer. Euphemia Potter had smiled, handing the picture to her son. “It’s okay, my love. Now you have a piece of Y/N with you.” 

“How?” James had asked, his lower lip jutting out in a frown. 

Euphemia laughed. “The picture captures you together. Look how happy the two of you look!” she points at her son’s smile in the photo. “You can do whatever you’d like with it.” 

James grinned, his eyes lighting up once more. “I want to hang it, mum!” he dragged her hand into the bedroom with him, climbing on top of his bedsheets and pressing the picture to the wall. “Here. That way I can say goodnight to them even when they're not here.” 

Euphemia Potter smiled watching as her son tucked himself under the covers. “That’s a brilliant idea, James.” With a wave of her wand, two pins fastened themself to the wall, the photo beneath. 

That was the beginning of James’s love for pictures. More pictures would accumulate such as the one of him and his father at a Tornados game. Drawings you would give him of flowers and Kneazles. The pictures would come and go but yours stayed the same. An additional picture of you and James would later be added three years later when the two of you were seven. James’s broom no longer sat in one hand, instead was gripped with two and hovering five feet off the ground. He had a wicked smile on his face, his glasses slightly falling down his nose. You sat behind him, your small fingers clutching to his waist as the picture captured you mid-squeal. 

Time went on yet the pictures of the two of you stayed the same. Along with your drawings, which had improved dramatically since you were seven, he’d occasionally find a Hollyhead Harpies banner plastered to his wall. When he came to scold you, pink banners adjourned in his hand, you’d laugh at the pout on his lips. He could never stay angry at you and always joined in on your laughter. 

The final year before things would slightly change was the year before going to Hogwarts.  A third picture was added at the age of ten. The Potter family had accompanied your family on a trip to Diagon Alley in which you had bought your screech owl, Juniper. James had one arm wrapped around you. His hair was untidy and a goofy smile was on his face as his other hand flicked your forehead. Your eyes were closed mid-laugh as one hand pushed his face away and the other perched with Juniper who screeched happily on your available arm. 

Again, time went on quickly and changes were made in James Potter’s room but you were not one of them. He packed up his Hogwarts things the night of August 31st, leaving his room full of pictures with a soft smile. 

You rode on the train with him, both of you waving goodbye to your loved ones. You grinned at him wickedly, “Excited?” you ask. 

“Definitely.” he responded. “Do you have money for the trolley?” 

You slide into a train compartment, one small boy already sitting there. “Yeah. Do you need to borrow some?” 

James nodded and you rolled your eyes, handing money over to the kind witch who passed by, grabbing pumpkin pasties for you and Bertie Botts for James. 

The ride was life-changing as you made acquaintances with similar mindsets. Two more boys entered your compartment and along with the scrawny boy from before, all of you made it to Gryffindor. “Where dwell the brave at heart” as James liked to put it. 

First year was an interesting feat with James quickly falling head over heels for Lily Evans. Your friendship never faltered although the thought of her in his life made you feel odd. However, you were sure she wouldn’t be in his life for quite some time seeing as his persistent efforts were met with an equally stubborn rejection. 

“She’s a firecracker, that one.” he sighed, walking beside you down the hall after another devastating encounter with Lily. 

“You’re just embarrassing yourself now, my boy.” you reply, dubbing his nickname to ease the comment. 

He smirked. “Then why do you hang out with me?” 

“Because, I’m the one who makes sure you don’t cross the line from embarrassing to mortifying.” 

He shakes his head with a silly grin. “I doubt that. You love me. That’s why.” 

You laugh, an effective way of avoiding the curious ideas that ran through your young mind. “Don’t throw around the l- word so quickly! You’ve got to mean it.” 

James bumped your side. “But I’ve known you for years.” 

You ruffle his hair, making it messier than it already was. “Save it for Evans.” 

---

The year ended and the two of you went home to Northern England hands overflowing with Gryffindor red, spirits high with a drive for Quidditch practice and addresses from Remus, Peter, and Sirius tucked away in your pockets. 

James’s room changed tremendously that first year. Alongside the Tutshill Tornados merchandise were small Gryffindor banners, lions enchanted to roar at the touch. You had given him one of your sketches from the school year, one of Sirius and him laughing in Transfiguration, another of him and Peter skipping stones. The pictures of the two of you still remained, a small collection of dust coating the edges which he wiped away with a smile. 

Second year was merry and full of high spirits. James had acquired his father’s invisibility cloak which gave cause to a number of nighttime rendezvous and adventures in the kitchens. Suspicion arose on Remus, whose monthly disappearances came to your attention. With the help of Sirius and Peter, the group soon discovered Remus’s guarded secret and accepted the furry little problem with open arms. 

The Lily Evans situation did not get any better with James’s persistence holding up fiercely and her hatred toward him even more harsh. As Sirius had dubbed it, “Mate, at this point you’re never getting married.” Remus and Peter whole-heartedly agreed, sending James into an adolescent spiral. 

“What if I don’t get married, Y/N/N?” he confided in you by the shores of the Black Lake. 

You chuckled, his delirium quite adorable. “You’re going to get married, James. Trust me.” 

He sighed, snapping a twig between his fingers. “It’s not definite.” 

“Nothing is.” you counter. 

James groaned. “I know. I know. But I would like it to be. Wouldn’t you?” 

You contemplated the idea, a thought coming to your head. “What if it could be?” 

He stared at you curiously. Your eyes lit up and James grinned. “Hit me.” 

“If by the time we are thirty neither of us are married then we should get married to each other.” you propose, a proud smile on your face. “That way we can have a definite of our own.” 

James grinned. “I like that idea. But what if one of us gets married before that?”

You frown. “Then I guess it’d be a flop. But it’s better than nothing, right?” 

He agreed quickly. The sun was setting into a pond of pink. The wind rustled and birds chirped and the moment seemed picture perfect and James wished a camera would magically pop up and capture the moment so he’d be able to hang it on his wall for years to come. It did not work that way, instead, he turned to you with a smirk. “I don’t have anything to propose with.” 

You looked down in embarrassment and gave him a shove. “We’re not getting married yet! It’s just a deal not the real thing.” 

He rolled his eyes at you. “I know but it feels as though something special should happen. How about we seal with a spit swear?” 

You stick your tongue out and pretend to gag. “Ew! No.” you flick his forehead causing him to wince. He grins before flicking you back, watching as you fall back onto the grass. 

“I guess a flick works as well.” he sighs. “Y/N Potter has a nice ring to it.” 

Your head falls against his shoulder. “I can’t believe I might be a Potter one day. Sounds disgusting.” 

James laughs, the weight of your head feeling oddly familiar against his shoulder. “Oh, shut it!” 

--- 

The years came and went. Third year, James made the Quidditch team and he quickly became a ladies man despite his obvious pining over Evans. You made sure to keep his feet on the ground as you didn’t want his ego to get larger than it already was. You came to all his games, occasionally bringing a camera so that James could add his moments of glory onto his beloved room wall. There was the time he tried dedicating a shot to you and ended up getting knocked off his broom by a Beater. 

He made the next one thankfully. 

On the other hand, you had earned the title of master dueler amongst the third years for your quick arm and sharp spellcasting. While James was at Quidditch practice: you, Peter, Remus, and Sirius would practice in empty classrooms although after a while they became rather bored as you would always win. James would cheer you on, even when you beat him there was a compliment of your skill and he was more than anything, proud. 

The summer between third and fourth year was the year the Marauders got their first group picture together. Everyone had met up at the Potter residence, Euphemia Potter snapping the photo with Sirius and James to the left, Peter and Remus on the right, and you in the middle. James hung the picture on his wall as it was routine by now. The whole gang got to see his famous wall of pictures, his life an open storybook to anyone who looked closely. 

Fourth year sparked love, pranks, and new ideas. Peter went on his first date, flaming at the cheeks as his friends waved him off embarrassingly. Group pranks ensued upon Snape whose oily hair was dyed all colors of the rainbow by the end of the first semester. You had gone on your first date as well, Steven Goldstein from Hufflepuff whom James threatened to beat up and Sirius who gave him “a talk”. 

Most importantly, the group addressed Remus’s furry little problem seeing as each year he came back with more and more scars than before. Two ideas sparked up from the meeting and both were large feats that every member of the group was willing to take. 

“So wait..” Peter asked. “You want to make a map… that tracks everyone in Hogwarts?” 

James nodded and Remus shook his head. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t look at me that way, Remus.” 

Remus shoved him lightly. “How would that even work though? Isn’t it a little invasive?” 

You smiled. “It most certainly is invasive but think about how awesome it’d be to have something like that. All we would need is…” 

“A complex locator spell.” you and Sirius said together. 

Everyone grinned. “Pete can do the drawing and sketching. He’s good at that stuff. We should check for secret passageways. All of us could do the magic. We’ve got the brains.” 

“I don’t think someone with brilliant magic technique would use the word brain to describe their intelligence.” you point out. James simply flicked you in the head. 

“And there’s the Animagi thing…” Sirius added. 

“That’s a reach.” Remus replied. 

“More than the map?” Peter questioned. 

Remus sighed. “You guys don’t have to do that for me. I’ve been transforming on my own for years. No need to have buddies now.” 

“Nonsense.” you say. “Anything for you, Rem. This is what you deserve.” 

The friends looked at each other silently. “Are we ready to pull off the biggest student feat in Hogwarts history?” Sirius whispered. 

“Aye, aye.” Everyone cheered. 

Peter grinned. “We’re up to no good.” 

James smiled back. “Then let us manage our mischief well.” 

WIth that the group commenced, exiting the abandoned classroom they used and taking off to class. James walked by your side as you headed to astronomy together. 

“I can’t wait till we pin this down. It’s going to be an epic year.” he grinned. 

You chuckle. “I know you’ll end up stalking someone, Potter. Evans by the looks of it.” 

He shook his head, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Nope. I’m gonna stalk you instead. See if you’re hiding any secrets from me.” 

You smile. “What secrets could I possibly be hiding from you, my boy?” 

James nudged your side with a smirk. “You’re telling me a good-looking fellow like yourself isn’t sneaking off with some other lad other than their best friends.” 

You shook your head, the word “good-looking” repeating itself in your mind. “No. If I did I would tell you.” 

“Good.” he said, starting up the stairs to the Astronomy tower. “I don’t need some arsehole stealing you away from me.” 

You roll your eyes. “No one could ever steal me from you, James. I’m not a Quaffle.” 

He nods with a grin. “Yeah. I suppose you’re more of a Snitch.” 

You laugh, dashing up the stairs in hopes that you wouldn’t be late for your Astronomy lesson.

--- 

As one could guess more pictures and sketches made their home on James Potter’s wall. It was a cluttered mess but beautiful nonetheless. It was as though the wall had an expression of its own with its array of Quidditch jerseys, photographs, art, and ticket stubs. Nobody touched the wall except James as he liked having every picture in place. His wall organized the way he liked it best… messy. 

Fifth year was the first year you didn’t see James every week. He had eagerly signed up for Quidditch camp and had left for Wales with promises that’d you write about the boys and the progress on the map and Animagi projects. The projects went well with Peter completing the outline sketches of the maps, Remus filling piles of papers on Animagi transformations and finally Sirius and you gathering the needed ingredients for the Animagi process. 

You had grown taller over the summer, hair lightening and your features more accentuated. Eagerly you awaited James’s return and when the time did come you had woken up early in the morning to see him arrive by Portkey on the hill. The second he appeared you had rushed over, engulfing him in a hug. You had missed his touch, his constant nagging and overall  the James Potterness that followed him around that would never fade with time. 

Meanwhile, he was left out of breath, a couple of inches taller and a smile on his face as he squeezed you back. “Y/N/N! I missed you, you lazy hag.” 

You laughed, messing up his hair that sat more neatly than in previous years. “And I missed you, my boy.” 

The next days before school were spent catching him up on the map and at the pond by your house. With each swim you noticed the changes in James such as the six-pack the tedious trials at Quidditch camp had given him. 

“Oi!” you shouted, splashing him in the face. “Whatever happened to the skinny twig that was my friend?” 

He smirked. “Oi! Why are you looking?” 

You bit your lip, not allowing him to see you flustered. “I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and it’s a very noticeable change!” you pointed at his toned stomach. 

James tapped your nose and you stared at him in annoyance. “It’s only noticeable if you want to notice it.” 

He turned around, making to walk back to the shore of the pond. You didn’t remember when James had gotten so cheeky although he’d always been that way, just never with you. Wickedly, you took the bucket that floated beside you and dunked it in the water. With a mischievous grin, you snuck up behind him, dumping the bucket of water on his head. 

James turned around with a gasp, jaw dropped. You laughed, a wide smile on your lips at the sight of him drenched in his swim trunks. It wasn’t until his arms tucked along your waist, dragging you to the deeper ends of the pond did the smile drop and his return. 

“Why you little…” you seethed. “James Fleamont Potter if you-” 

It was too late by then, your body submerged in the water and you swam up, his laughter the first noticeable sound. You scowled as he doubled over with laughter on the shore. “I’m never letting you go to Quidditch camp again.” 

The two of you walked home as the sun set, many flicks to the forehead ensuing as you did. 

---

Fifth year was by far the most epic year of your Hogwarts experience. Everything was prepared for the Animagi transformation and phase two of the map project was ready to launch with Remus having gained access to the restricted section of the library. 

It seemed as though the whole student body had recognized the change in James’s physique which only led to an inflation of his ego. The worst part was that Lily Evans just so happened to be one of those said noticers and while her defiance toward him was still strong, she could be caught staring in class much to James’s delight. 

The Animagi process began as soon as the September full moon. While Remus suffered in the Shrieking Shack, the four other Marauders set their Mandrake leaves into their mouths preparing for an uncomfortable month of bitterness on their tongues. The leaves were held under their tongues when talking in class and for the rest of the time they resorted to note passing leaving the entirety of Hogwarts wondering why the Marauders went quiet so suddenly. 

During the period between moons, they worked on their map. Stacks of books, both regular and restricted, lay among them. Each had a quill and parchment used to take note of spells or pass messages back and forth. As you worked you received a message from James in the form of a crumpled ball of parchment. You smoothed it out with a sigh. 

I hate this thing. It tastes like piss and lime. 

You held back a chuckle, writing your own message next to his. 

You’re not backing out of this, Potter. It’s for Remus. 

He stuck the leaf under his tongue in order to stick it out at you and you rolled your eyes. He scribbled a message back. 

I know. I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it. 

You smirked, tossing the parchment back to him. 

If your scrawny arse can come back from Quidditch camp with abs then you can stomach keeping a leaf in your mouth for a month. 

He smoothed it out and you went back to your work only getting in a minute's reading before the parchment bounced off your head. You scowled at his antics but he only looked at his book with a smirk. Unfolding the paper, James’s messy handwriting took up the last blank space on the parchment. 

Nice to know you still think about my abs. 

Your stomach squirmed at the feeling that inflamed from his words and the smirk that was on his face. You flicked him on the head, throwing the parchment into the fire before Sirius could ask what it was. 

--- 

It took moon soaked leaves, untouched morning dew and a lightning storm to finally complete the transformations. It was on a late November night that a lightning storm finally struck and in the fifth corridor bathroom the Marauders made their first transformations. For Peter, a small rat with a wriggling tail. For Sirius, a pure black dog. For James, a large stag with mighty horns. For you, a sly fox with sleek orange fur. 

Thus that night began the use of the nicknames: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Vixen. Dubbed by James and agreed upon all around. The final full moons of fifth year were spent prancing around Hogsmeade alongside Remus whose scars diminished with each transformation spent with his friends. 

The downside of it all was the building tension in the school. With Lord Voldemort on the rise, more and more of your classmates were showing their true colors. Select Slytherins no longer wore short sleeves, their wrists always covered even in the heat of summer. Watchful eyes and protective glares, you went home for summer in worry. 

Over the summer, Prongs lost his Pronginess. He wrote to Lily Evans most days of the week and now the things she sent him hung on his wall alongside you and the Marauders. An anticipated change but a scary one still. Every outing with James became more about Lily and less about anything else. You could feel your best friend slipping away and you told him so the night before the start of sixth year. 

The two of you sat together in the branches of a tree. The sun hit your skin in rays and clouds passed by over your heads. James’s voice droned on about his darling Lily flower and with an unknowing malice you snapped at him. “Shut it!” you groaned. 

His eyes looked over at you, hands holding your head in remorse. “Aren’t you happy for me? You’ve been acting off all summer.” 

“I’ve been acting off because you’ve been acting off. I am happy for you but Evans is the only thing you talk about these days. What happened to talking about the Tornados or sneaking out together for milkshakes?” 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s different now.” 

“Well, it shouldn’t be.” you exclaim. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t grow up. I support the idea of you no longer being a cheeky bastard. If you’re happy with Evans then I am happy for you. But being with Evans doesn’t mean you have to forget about me or the Marauders or everything else.” 

James nodded, a leaf spinning between his fingers as he frowned. “I’m sorry, Y/N/N.” 

You shake your head. “I am too. Sorry I snapped at you, my boy.” your head fell onto his shoulder the same way it had done for years only this time things had changed. The weight still felt perfect on his shoulder but now his stomach turned and his breath hitched at the close proximity. Things were indeed changing although the two of you only danced around it, not wanting to address the mess you two had made. 

Your head was still against his shoulder as you spoke quietly. “Just remember you’re not a Quaffle.” 

He chuckled, stroking your hair affectionately. “I guess I’ll be the snitch then.” 

You smiled, swimming in the feel of the James Potter you knew so well. Later that night, the two of you snuck out like old times, sharing a chocolate milkshake and sending each other glances the whole way home. 

--- 

Sixth year was a rollercoaster. The map was finished, all the efforts poured out finally receiving an equally impressive outcome with the parchment branded with the names of the Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Vixen. Remus had his first kiss and Sirius decided on leaving home and James welcomed him with open arms. 

The other Marauders were not impartial to the changes in your and James’s behavior. The miniscule changes in his face when you napped on his lap or the flush of your skin when he rustled your hair. In all honesty, it was as though the two of you were finally waking up and seeing what they’d been seeing all along. However, your own defiance was strong and love wasn’t simple. James was still under the impression that his heart beat for Lily Evans and you flirted around your feelings as opposed to finally confronting them. 

When Gryffindor won the Quidditch season, you were the first one in James’s arms to congratulate him. He spun you around, a large grin on his face. “We won!” 

You smiled. “That you did, my boy. Celebration calls and are you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Hmm? Let me guess… Firewhiskey?” 

“That’s my boy.” you cheer, linking your arm in his and dragging him off the field as Lily Evans watched the boy she had taken a chance on run off with someone else.

---

Firewhiskey made for a fine celebration and resulted in James and you collapsed on the floor of the Gryffindor common room at two in the morning. His glasses were crooked as he stared up at the ceiling and your hair fell in waves on the floorboards. 

“Blimey, I can’t believe we won.” James chuckled, his words slurring together slightly. 

“You deserve it, my boy.” you say, lightly punching his arm. “How are you feeling on this fine evening?” 

His cheeks went pink but a smile overtook his features making for a hilarious expression when he shouted out. “Randy!”  

You doubled over with laughter. “Gosh, James. I don’t need to hear about this.” you shove his grinning face with your palm. 

“What, you've never felt randy before?” he asked, a childlike expression on his face juxtaposing such an intrusive question. 

You hide your embarrassment behind a grin. “Yes, but I’m not going around telling you about it.” 

He tapped your nose with the tip of his finger and your stomach swirled. “And why not?” 

You turned over to your side. “I’m not sure best friends tell each other about being randy, Prongs.” 

James sighed. “I guess not. But how are you feeling, my little vixen?” 

With a swig of your drink and a grin you reply. “Randy.” 

The two of you erupt into fits of laughter. James pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it’s the whiskey then.” 

You stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I suppose so.” 

Both of you knew that wasn’t the case. You knew that despite the whiskey slowing the gears of your mind you still noticed James’s hand laying by your waist. You could still trace the outline of his chin and the bridge of his nose. James could still see the curve of your lips and the rise of your chest. Firewhiskey was most definitely not the cause of your randiness. 

But it was the easiest thing to blame. 

--- 

Your birthday came soon after with the Marauders celebrating in joy. Presents were exchanged with Remus giving you some books, Peter knitted (with the help of his mother) a pair of mittens for you and Sirius had gifted you a record to play on your stereo. 

But James had to be extravagant. It wasn’t everyday his best friend turned seventeen and he marked the occasion with something expensive yet meaningful. When you opened the small box inside had been a silver fox ring. It’s eyes sparkling gems that twinkled as if blinking. 

“James, I’m going to kill you.” you seethed. “This is way too expensive. I’m turning seventeen not fifty.” 

He laughed. “Oi, woman! It’s fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Besides, only the best for you.” 

You stared at it once more before engulfing him in a hug. “It’s beautiful, my boy. Thank you.” 

His arms squeezed your waist, breathing you in and remembering the sweet smells of childhood and friendship rolled into one. His eyes closed and it was as if he had drifted off into a pleasant dream. “Of course, my little vixen.”

You made certain to flick his head after. 

He was starting to regret giving it to you already. 

---

Sixth year came to a close with an even more devastating end than the last. The war only continued to rage with Muggles being murdered miles away from the school, Muggle-borns driving into hiding. Sirius’s brother was slowly falling into line with the other Slytherins, devoting their hours to the torture of Muggleborns, Lord Voldemort and the likes. 

James left Hogwarts heart-broken when Lily Evans broke up with him on the last day of term. “Look around!” Lily had told him. “You’re blind, James. I’m not the person you want and it’d be clear if you’d stop and take a look.” 

He hadn’t known what she meant and the first week of summer was spent crying and eating ice cream on the sofa with you by his side. His room had become a mess and Lily’s letters no longer remained on the wall instead crumbled up in a ball in the trash. 

Euphemia Potter couldn’t dread to see her son in the dumps any longer and she made sure to tell him so one evening after you had left. 

“James, you need to get your life together, my love.” she whispered, rubbing her sons back reassuringly. 

His words came out muffled into her neck. “It’s hard.” 

“I know.” she soothed. “And I’m always going to be there for you.” 

“Promise?” he asked. 

“Promise.” she smiled. “Now how about you go clean your room. It’s become quite dirty.” 

He nodded, trudging to his room with a broom. Lily’s words repeated in his mind as he entered. “You’re blind, James. Look around!” But there was nothing to look for. All he saw was his wall and a soft smile came to his face as he approached it. The Tutshill Tornado banners clung loosely to the paint and drawings of Kneazles and landscapes and trees. Pictures of the Marauders and Gryffindor lions. 

And finally the ones of you. 

His fingers ran across the picture in the middle. Four-year old James grinning and you licking a lolly. His eyes moved to the next one, seven years old and flying together on a broomstick. A grin broke out on his face as he saw the one with your owl in Diagon Alley, his fingers flicking your forehead. James’s mind was on hyperdrive as he examined each picture, one common factor in almost all of them. 

You. 

You were in many of the photos, a smile adorned on your face. If you weren’t in the photos you were the one taking them, knowing how much he adored them. Any pictures that hung were sketched by your hands. Here was James Potter’s open story, the story of his life all plastered to the wall as though it was an empty canvas. Present in every moment, every aspect, had been you. You had been the start of his book, the picture of the two of you as tots still smacked in the middle of the wall. Yes, he realized. You had started his book and had remained in it for quite some time. 

Lily Evans must’ve noticed and maybe everyone else had too. 

James had been blind to the message that was sprawled across his wall. He had been the one writing it, maybe not knowingly but writing it out all the same. Everyone had seen it except the writer and his subject, the message painstakingly clear years prior to its conception. 

He quickly removed all the pictures from the wall, grabbing each one that hung and piling them up in his hand. The door swung open as he dashed out of his room yelling, “I’ve got to go, mum!” before running out the front door. The hills of green were illuminated by the night sky, the stars burned for James as he hopped over branches and boulders to get to you. 

Your house was in the distance, your figure standing a few feet away from the home. He called out to you, your eyes turned to meet his. When he reached you, he paused, catching his breath. 

“James, what on Earth are you doing here?” you laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder as he breathed. 

He stood up straight, panting as he held up a photo. “This is us when we were four. The first photo we ever took together.” 

You squinted at him. “Right?” 

He shuffled through the pictures, fingers tracing each one. “And this is from when we were seven. That one from when we were ten. You gave me this drawing when we were six because you loved Kneazles and wanted one as a pet. That drawing was from the first year when we went skipping stones at the Black Lake and you sketched me and Peter.” 

Your face melts slowly. “James, I don’t understand. You’ve had these for years.” 

He exhaled, his eyes lighting up. “That’s the thing. I never saw it till now but Lily said I was blind and that she wasn’t the person I wanted.” You nod, wiping the sweat from his forehead with your sleeve and he grinned. “See that right there. That’s what I want.” 

The night air bit at your spine. “You want me to wipe the sweat from your forehead?” 

He shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Not exactly. I want you to wipe the sweat from my forehead for the next year and the next ten and then the next fifty. You’ve been doing it for years already and the thing is… I don’t think I want anyone else doing it for me.” 

You blinked as he came closer, his palms cradling your cheek as you gazed into his eyes. “You’ve been in my life for as long as I could remember and I want you to stay in it for as long as I live. You told me once to not throw around the l-word and I said…” 

“But I’ve known you my whole life.” you mutter. 

“I think I’ve loved you for a while. I just didn’t know it yet.” 

You shook your head as the wind rustled the branches, the windchime on your porch creating soft melodies. A large grin spread across your lips yet you continued to shake your head. “There’s a war, James.” 

He smiled. “Only more the reason to be with me.” 

“But I’ve been with you my whole life.” you tease. 

“Oh, shut up!” he chuckles, before leaning down to capture your lips. At that moment everything made sense. All the pieces of the puzzle sifted into place and the stars applauded you from the sky and the night gale created a ruckus at your shed blindfold. 

“Be my Snitch?” he asked. 

You rolled your eyes, “That’s the cringiest thing you’ve ever said, my boy.” 

He smirked. “Oh, but you love it.” 

“Perhaps I do.” you replied, flicking his forehead for good measure. 

---

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[onlyfreds]

I Told You to Behave | F.W.

Title: I Told You to Behave

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: We all know that Fred has trouble behaving

A/N: A huge thank you to Holly for sending me the prompt that inspired this fic! I had so much fun writing this and I hope that I did this justice.

As soon as I wrote down the concluding sentence of my essay, I threw my quill on the table as I leaned back on my chair, breathing a sigh of relief.

I then heard a small knock on the dorm room door, thinking it was one of my roommates I immediately answered, “Come in!”

But, instead of Angelina or Katie or Alicia, the person who came in was none other than my handsome, lovable, sweet, caring (and did I mention handsome?) boyfriend, Frederick Gideon Weasley.

I smiled, my mood immediately being uplifted, while I lazily pushed my chair away from the table, standing up and walking over to him as I wrapped my arms around his torso and breathed in his scent.

“Hey darling.” He cooed with a small smile, combing his fingers through my hair.

“What have you been up to?” He asked.

I looked up at him, “Just finished that 12-foot essay for Transfiguration.”

“How about you?” I then asked, “What brings you here?”

He raised a brow, “What brings you here? She asks. I missed you. Isn’t that obvious? Why else would I be here?”

I shrugged, giving him a small smile, “Dunno, maybe you need something from me?”

Fred gasped as he placed a hand over his heart, feigning offence, “How could accuse me of such a deed?! Honestly woman, you call yourself my girlfriend.”

I laughed, pressing a small kiss on his lips, “I’m just joking love. Besides, I know how clingy you could be.”

“Hey!” He protested, “You’re clingier.”

I stuck his tongue out at him, “Am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

Fred rolled his eyes, knowing that I wouldn’t back down because of how stubborn I could get. He crashed our lips together, causing me to stumble back slightly from the force of the kiss.

He sunk his teeth on my bottom lip, nibbling it gently, causing me to moan softly against his mouth.

He placed a hand at the back of my head while I rested my hands on his chest. While he deepened the kiss we slowly walked backwards until my back hit the wall.

The two of us pulled apart, breathless and the temperature of the room rising up by a few degrees.

I looked up at him, feeling my cheeks being painted a tint of pink, “Is that your way of telling me to shut up?”

He grinned sheepishly, “Maybe?”

I giggled, “Then maybe you should shut me up more often.”

Fred smirked, leaning closer that I could practically feel his breath fanning over my face, “What if I shut you up now?”

I bit my lip, feigning innocence, “What’s stopping you?”

My boyfriend was about to reconnect our lips, when a knock on the door caused him to jump slightly.

“Oi Fred!” The familiar voice of his twin could be heard from the other side of the door, “Are you in there?”

Fred muttered something about wrong timing as he answered, “I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

“Well, now’s not the time to be making babies.” His twin retorted, “This product needs your immediate attention. Emphasis on immediate.”

“Why don’t attend to it?” Fred asked, rolling his eyes.

“I have a date with Angelina you oaf! Now, stop your baby-making, get your arse here and fix this.”

“Fine.” Fred huffed as he opened the door and took the box from George.

I sat down on the edge of my bed while Fred sat down on the floor and starting to figure out what was wrong.

“So much for the mood.” I said with a small laugh, moving to sit down in front of him.

“This fever fudge has been on trial for weeks.” He groaned, looking over the ingredients of the product again.

“What’s wrong with it?” I asked, resting my chin on the open palm of my hand.

He frustratingly ran a hand through his hair, making it even messier, “It malfunctions. Once you eat it, your temperature will rise up to 40 degrees. Then within mere minutes it’ll go back down to your normal temperature even without the cure.”

I reached out my hand, “Can I see the list?”

He nodded, handing me the piece of parchment as I read over the messy, but thankfully eligible, handwriting.

“That’s why.” I muttered once I’ve finished reading the whole list.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Fred asked as I handed it back to him.

“You’re missing an ingredient.” I explained, “That’s why it malfunctions.”

“What ingredient?” He asked.

I shrugged, “Just a mandrake leaf. Though, I’ve run out of stock. I’ll go ask Hermione if she has some.”

We then started making the potion again, now all we needed was the mandrake leaf.

I walked towards the door and before leaving to Hermione’s dorm, I warned my boyfriend, “Whatever you do. Don’t add anything else to the potion. You behave until I get back with the mandrake leaf.”

Fred nodded, giving a mock salute, “Yes Ma’am!”

I playfully rolled my eyes at him before shutting the door behind me.

(Fred’s POV)

As soon as the door closed, I looked back down at the parchment in my hand, double checking the whole process to make sure that we did it right.

I took a glance at the bubbling potion that was sitting in the cauldron, that’s strange. If I wasn’t mistaken the potion had to be orange, not purple.

I went over the list again and thought that we’ve must’ve added a little less unicorn horn powder than required

Unscrewing the jar, I was about to add a dash of the powder when I stopped in my tracks remembered what my girlfriend told me.

“Whatever you do. Don’t add anything else to the potion. You behave until I get back with the mandrake leaf.”

I hesitated, the ladle hovering above the cauldron.

She did say that I should wait for her, but I’m pretty sure that nothing will go wrong if I just add a dash, right?

Right?

I sighed, quickly tipping over the ladle, watching the powder drop into the potion.

I waited a minute, but nothing seemed to happen.

At that moment, I realized that I should’ve listened.

Fireworks started to explode from the potion, bouncing off the walls and knocking stuff over.

Once the fireworks disappeared, the room was a mess. I mean a literal mess.

Before I could think of a solution to make it look like that nothing happened, I saw the door knob turn.

She was back. I was dead.

(Reader’s POV)

“Thanks Hermione!” I called after the girl as she headed down to Ron and Harry.

I then opened the door to my dorm, only to see a wreck in front of me and my boyfriend with the look of a guilty puppy.

“What in the name of Godric Gryffindor happened here Freddie?” I asked, staring at him agape.

He gave a shy smile, “I may have added a dash of unicorn horn powder to the potion.”

I glared at him as I took out my wand and waved it, the room cleaning itself up, “What did I say?”

He seemed to cower a bit, “You told me to behave.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, “And what did you do?”

Fred gave a small, innocent smile, “The exact opposite.”

I sighed, suddenly remembering my Transfiguration essay and rushing immediately towards the table. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the essay was perfectly fine. I tucked it away in my bag before any damage could be made.

I was aware of Fred staring at me with big doe eyes, silently begging me to forgive him.

I gave him the silent treatment, fixing up the rest of the stuff until the room was back to its natural glory.

I suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, breathing in Fred’s scent as he rested his cheek on my shoulder, his hair tickling my ear.

I looked at him, once again seeing those big doe eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He said, almost in a whisper, “I should’ve listened to you.”

I licked my lips, “You’re lucky the essay I worked on for three hours didn’t get ruined.”

Fred’s eyes lighted up, “Do you forgive me?”

I playfully rolled my eyes at him, “I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my cheek, “See? You can’t stay mad at me for long?”

I raised a brow at him, “You want to test that theory out?”

His eyes widened, shaking his head vigorously, “No thanks.”

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

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[serenityseventeen]

♪ The Last Day of Summer With You

Jun/Wen Junhui/Moon Junhui : Painting...?

“Are you sure about this?” You asked skeptically while staring at your boyfriend who was preoccupied with setting up the stand for the blank canvas.

Jun nodded and placed the canvas on the stand. He clapped his hands together after he was done and turned halfway to you who was on his right and watched him set up the whole thing. He innocently smiled but you shook your head.

“I don't think that painting together on one beautifully blank canvas is a very good idea,” You said, crossing your arms with conviction. “If my memory is correct, the last time we tried an artistic project, it ended up with us filling out bedroom walls with sketches of cats.”

Jun giggled at that remark because he could recall that moment. Everything about that warm spring day was chaotic and it all started when Jun decided to take Mingyu's suggestion of drawing with a significant other as a romantic activity.

That day was surely romantic to Jun because it was a memory he could never forget. You laughed so much that day despite continuously uttering about how foolishly childish you and he were, drawing cats on the walls and sketching stickmen in your notebooks while acting like troublesome kids. He could tell that that day was memorable for you too. If he could get you to smile like that, he would look everywhere for a fun activity to do.

Thus, that was why Jun was always looking for new things to try with you and he would take in many of his member's suggestions. Jun enjoyed having fun, being romantic, and being with you, so everything that his friends deemed ‘romantic’ he would try them out for himself.

Just like how that chaotically beautiful drawing day started, this one also started with a member's suggestion. This time, he took in the artiste, Minghao's recommendation of painting, and bought some art supplies for it.

Since today was a day to finish the hot, summer weather, Jun had decided that you two should attempt to keep the memory of a summertime sunset written on a canvas.

Jun let out a long breath and took your hand, setting you down in front of the canvas. Jun had already prepared a palette and brushes that were kept in a small cup, their fluffy ends sticking up.

“Come on, doing things like this once in a while is fun!” Jun said, handing you a palette. “I'll take the left half of the canvas, you can have the right side. Let's see what we can come up with to describe summer, okay?”

You chuckled, knowing that the painting was going to end up adequately attractive even if it looked peculiar. You glanced at Jun while holding the palette. He was skipping through the bottles of paint to get a brush while holding a plastic palette in one of his hands. You helplessly grinned as you gazed at Jun.

The assorted and iridescent paint bottles that were lined up on the floor were neatly ultimately scattered with a gentle brush of Jun's foot as he made his way back to the stool next to you. He came back with not one brush, but the whole mug that held the brushes.

“Let's get started, shall we?” Jun asked, smiling as he set down the paintbrushes.

You watched as he squeezed paint onto his palettes and gently dabbed his chosen brush into the paint. He painted a slanted line down the middle of the canvas, causing you to laugh at how imperfect but cute it looked.

“I guess I have more space at the bottom of the canvas than you do,” You commented, bringing some orange paint onto your palette.

Jun laughed softly. “I won't even try to fix this crooked line.”

There was complete silence in the house as you and Jun started focusing on the painting. The activity was messier than both of you thought it'd be. Jun had forgotten to buy painting aprons to avoid getting paint on your clothes too, but thankfully, the two of you changed into clothes that weren't special.

It was strange to see him so focused on the painting.

Jun found it strange that you were working so hard on your side of the painting. Sometimes, he would glance at his side to catch the beauty of a concentrated you.

When you saw him looking at the corner of your eye, you would turn to him and you both would stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds before you either smiled, winked, scrunched your nose, or asked, “What?”

Jun couldn't catch when you would gaze at him though, even if your eyes were shooting out hearts, he would be too distracted by his painting that he wouldn't even notice. You found it rather cute, and, you got to gaze at his dangerously attractive side profile.

“Can you pass me the blue paint?” You asked.

Jun looked around his stool to realize that he had been hoarding all of the paints around and under his stool. His hands were a rainbow mess and his painting, well, you could just tell that he was trying hard because it looked pretty with bright and dark colors.

“Oh, sorry,” Jun replied. He got off his chair a little to reach for the blue bottle of paint, his messy hands staining the side of the bottle.

You didn't mind that the bottle was tainted because your hands too, were decorated with a variety of smudged colors. You didn't even know how some paint got on the smooth, tiled floor, though it wasn't unexpected.

As Jun took the bottle and handed it to you, his clumsiness took the best of him and he accidentally, while retreating his hand, swept the back of his painted hand against your side of the canvas. He was moving a beat too fast which caused the sudden collision.

You both froze because you saw the entire thing happen and Jun quickly realized what he had done. The canvas was a bit smudged with brown, destroying the aesthetic of the painting.

Jun looked at you, expecting death glares, but was met with a warm smile. You were laughing, amused by your boyfriend's small mistake. It must have been ridiculous to see you laughing like that because Jun couldn't hold his laughter either. Whenever you laughed, he would habitually mimick your actions even if he didn't know what was so funny.

“Why are you laughing? Aren't you upset?” Jun asked, confused by your rather bright and friendly expression. Your laughter was contagious and Jun was still frozen in place.

“Of course not!” You finally replied. You placed your brush and palette down on the floor, grinning widely out of unexplainable ecstasy. “Mistakes like that are what makes paintings like these so special!”

You cupped his face with your paint-covered hands, leaving polychromatic marks on his cheeks, and leaned in to press a long, sweet kiss on his lips. You didn't know why, but it felt like you were waiting for something like this to happen.

Jun was a bit taken aback by the sudden kiss but he quickly absorbed himself into his. His hand would have completely pushed the painting and stand down but he somehow controlled that, leaving a messy print of his hand on your side of the art piece.

His paint-filled hands left marks on your clothes as they climbed up your waist to hold you tightly.

“You're such a fool,” You commented, your thumb caressing his cheeks that were now smeared with paint from your hands. “Why do you always take in your member's ideas?”

Jun moved back a little to look into your beautiful eyes that were now reflecting the sunshine from the large living room window. “I think I'm too boring. I want you to have fun with me.”

“Thank you,” You replied. “I'll try to be a better lover and give you surprise activities that are fun like this too. It's just that you're so foolish; you don't need to ask your members for fun activities to do. I like everything you do, even if you're just playing piano, singing, practicing a funny skit, or playing games on the computer. It's all fun to me.”

“It's okay,” Jun said, knocking on the side of your head playfully. “I want us to do a variety of things together because it's fun and memorable. I don't care whether or not we do these things as long as we do something, even if it's just staying at home. I wouldn't do things like this if I didn't have you.”

You both let go of each other with a smile. You stared at Jun's hand engraved on your painting. Jun noticed it too and was about to apologize but before he could, you quickly submerged your palm in your colorful painting palette.

You smile lovingly at him before pressing your hand against his side of the painting.

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© serenityseventeen

a/n: this one was almost 1.5k words and yes, I know, the picture has barely any relevance to the story overall. I tried very hard to find a newer photo of him with paint but had no luck; I just remember them playing with paint during Pretty U(?) or predebut. Anyway, I love Silent Boarding Gate with my whole heart so I used that photo instead. + What does summer look like to you?