#degr@de me

[d0vepet]

i need a bf who’s obsessed with making me suffer because he knows how much i crave it, even if i’m squirming and crying while he pins me down and forces himself into my ass <3 he knows this is what his little angel needs: why would my little cunt be so drippy if it wasn’t?

[thesquidkid]

ma voisine qui m'a vu grandir et tt qui m'annonce fièrement qu'elle vote rn. une carte de voeux en moins à envoyer au moins je ferais des économies

[ihangelic]

PAS DE PUNK ╱ h.taesan

you and taesan go together like classical music and rock: not at all. but similar to the way taesan keeps getting piercings, there’s something about the way he gets under your skin that you kind of like— and you’re too proud to admit why you keep coming back for more.

pair ; punk!taesan x ballerina!reader

genre ; smut (with plot), fluff?, rock band au, enemies to lovers

warnings ; fem!reader, taesan has piercings (including tongue), arguing (flirting), some jealousy, ‘make me shut up’ kiss, confessing of feelings, petnames (mostly princess), lots of mentions of taesan’s hands & rings, dom!taesan, bratty/sub!reader, thigh riding, praise, degr*dation, bre*st play, begging, a little sp*nking, no prep, piv

wc ; 8k

playlist ; smells like teen spirit by nirvana / sugar we’re goin down by fall out boy / a little death by the neighbourhood / punk rock princess by something corporate / she’s kinda hot by 5sos / good girl by thomas larosa / s*xtape by deftones / closer by nine inch nails / all i really want is you by the marías

✉️ 𓂃 ₊˚⊹ note ; happy new year!! idk if it’s unhinged to make a playlist for a smut fic but i couldn’t help myself ><. i avoided using lesser-known ballet terms for non-dancers to understand (aka me), but also tried to make it enjoyable for dancers to read. hopefully i was successful lol.

! . . . COPYRIGHT OF IHANGELIC

dancing along with the music of l’oiseau bleu is practically impossible when it sounds like a rock concert is taking place in the room just across from you.

lowering to stand flat footed in your pointe shoes, you raise your hands to your face, pinching your nose bridge in frustration as you try and resist the growing urge to pull your hair out.

the obnoxious sound of drums, a bass’s low rumble, and an electric guitar’s higher tune rings in your ears— drowning out any of your more rational thoughts until you’re left with only rage.

you try your best to block it out, to take a moment to breathe and try to get a controlled hold over your emotions— and you think it may work after you cover your ears with your own hands, the sound of the instruments still audible but sounding more distant. then the teeth gritting noise of a cymbal pierces through the barrier of your hands and it’s almost like it’s a sound effect for the way your train of thought shatters, letting out a sigh that sounds much more like an animalistic scream before stomping over to your phone and turning off the music.

power walking out of the dance studio and to the very unfortunately placed neighboring rental space, you don’t even have to turn the knob as you look through the glass door. the raging bitch face you wear is absolutely effortless as you mean-mug all three ‘problems’ in the room; ‘problems’ that drip in leather, distressed or patched fabric, spikes, and way too oversized jeans. you’re about to feel acquainted with the three men as this situation seems to occur more and more often.

foam panels are stuck to the walls; black cords are neatly coiled or in squiggly lines across the floor; and of course there’s guitars, a drum set, and microphones everywhere.

finally you catch the eyes of the long, blond haired drummer— and that gives you enough incentive to open the door and barge in like you own the place.

“could you be any louder?” you rhetorically ask, but it goes unheard as two of the men sing passionately into their microphones, eyes closed and hands working the strings of their guitars while the drummer keeps playing his drums— all while staring at you with a relaxed, barely inquisitive face.

“could you be any louder!” you shout, the end of the sentence awkwardly fading in volume when there's a screech from one of the guitars and everything goes quiet.

the two seeming vocalists turn their heads to look at you, all three men now staring while you stand, clearly bothered as your hands are on both sides of your hips and your chest heaves with deep breaths of frustration.

“well…” the dark haired, taller one begins— and your expression only sours more as you’re already familiar with how snarky and full of himself he can be. “you’re the one yelling.”

you let out an appalled scoff, unable to help the way your eyes roll as you’re angered even more by how that only seems to make the man smirk.

“if someone has to yell just for you to hear them that means you’re the loud one.”

“you sure about that, princess?” he asks, quirking a pierced brow. your impending explosive response must be visible as the shorter statured one interrupts for damage control.

“w— we’re sorry!” he starts, speaking on his friends behalves. the blond’s expression never changes as he stares at your fuming face, while the darker haired looks like he’s about to protest— but the other continues before he has the chance. “look..we got off on the wrong foot and…”

the way his hands float in front of him, bass hanging against his chest by the strap— it only adds to how lost he looks on what to do, and it makes you feel kind of bad. (for him at least.)

you’re about to start apologizing when he’s suddenly reaching his hand out towards you.

“i’m riwoo.” he introduces, then gestures over to the other two men. “this is taesan and leehan.”

“…y/n” you say somewhat sheepishly, a bit of your shame coming back at the politeness of the bassist you now know as riwoo.

previously you’d only knock aggressively at their door to ask them to shut up, a few times popping your head in when that didn’t work to snappily ask them to please try and keep it down at least a little. you’ve never actually had a full conversation with them before— or an argument...whatever this exchange of words could be classified as.

“unfortunately we can’t really be any quieter. we have to practice for a gig we got coming up—“

“isn’t your little dance school supposed to be closed now anyway?” taesan abruptly interrupts, yet again grinding your gears with the snarky way he says the words ‘dance school’.

“it’s closed for classes, but the rooms can be used for practice up until eleven pm.” you provide smartly, catching yourself before you scrunch your nose in disgust at him.

“we try to keep the noise at a minimum if we’re here at prime hours,” riwoo cuts in again, attempting to explain gently. “but past that…” he trails off, shoulders shrugging as he gives you a sympathetic look.

you process his words, how he really is seemingly trying to help you out here, before sighing softly as your hand raises to press into your increasingly aching temple.

“do you have to use your amps?” you ask, raising a hand to point at one.

“did you not hear him? we have a show to do, we need to practice as best as we can. so yes, we have to use our amps.” taesan firmly states, over enunciating like you can’t hear. his brows are slightly furrowed as his previous amusement is completely gone, a flame of annoyance now in his eyes.

you let your hand defeatedly fall and slap against your bare thigh, taesan’s eyes glancing down at your leg for the smallest of moments before looking back up to glare at you.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” you bite at him, sick of his selfish attitude as you turn your body fully in his direction, crossing your arms.

“wxnder.” he dryly states, making your head tilt in confusion and absolute impatience.

“huh?”

“wonder— but like, with an ‘x’. that’s our band name.” leehan provides, throwing you off as you’re momentarily sidetracked by how deep and smooth his voice is. (are all these men vocalists? also, with an ‘x’— how cheesy can they be?)

“you should come watch us perform.” he smiles widely, eyes creasing and everything. you’re yet again thrown off as he speaks to you with such casual friendliness as though you haven’t practically yelled at all of them and continue to seethe at his guitarist like you want to rip his throat out.

“uh, i…”

“i’m sure miss priss has other things she’d rather do, like dance to swan lake in a feather tutu or something.” taesan finishes your sentence for you, conjuring a string of curses to lace your tongue.

“shut the f—“

“bye, twinkle toes.” he waves you off dismissively, grabbing the neck of his guitar by his multiple ringed fingers as he directs his attention back to his instrument and mic.

“it was nice meeting you, y/n.” riwoo adds somewhat shyly, adjusting the strap of his instrument as well— though much more apologetically.

“see ya’, y/n!” leehan calls before picking up his drumsticks and twirling them in his hands, looking up to taesan for his cue. you watch him cock his chin, the sudden rhythmic pounding of leehan’s drums making you flinch before taesan and riwoo start playing their strings again.

riwoo’s voice starts out soft before slowly raising in volume and you’re shocked by his melodic vocals that contrast so satisfyingly well with the rock instrumentals.

still disgruntled but more off put than anything, you don’t know what more to do than shuffle out of the room, shutting the door behind you as you stare at the air in front of you.

well, guess it’s time to find some earbuds that are sound and pirouette proof.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you got it. you got the lead role.

all the extra (maybe slightly excessive) practicing, late nights and frustration (which would be a lot less if there wasn’t a band next door) paid off.

you’re playing as princess aurora for your dance studio’s performance of ‘the sleeping beauty’, which will be showing at a local theatre next month.

jaehyun, your good friend and fellow dancer who’s always making you smile and lightening sullen moments during classes— is your dance partner, playing as prince désiré.

the second the both of you found out you got lead roles, jaehyun was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, insisting that you go out tonight to celebrate.

which is why you find yourself by jaehyun’s side at ‘sundown lounge’, your favorite bar and hang out spot.

“you look good, by the way!” jaehyun attempts to speak over the loud karaoke, leaning a little closer to your ear as you weave through the crowd.

“thanks!” you turn your head to smile at him over your shoulder, hoping your iridescent eyeshadow twinkles under the lights how you wanted it to.

“you do too.” you compliment before someone’s elbow is jabbed into your stomach, squishing yourself against the wall as you and jaehyun try to make it to the bar to order some drinks. “why is it so busy tonight?”

“i don’t know, maybe it’s happy hour!” jaehyun suggests hopefully, but when you finally reach the counter his theory is proven wrong when you’re told everything’s its original price. regardless, you sip on a strawberry margarita while jaehyun holds a glass of something that looks like muddy water before deciding where to sit.

“wanna go there, near the stage?” he asks, pointing over to a table that’s very near the performance area. you’d rather not have to hear a drunk girl sloppily sing a britney spears song right in your ears but jaehyun finds it hilarious, often unable to resist curling in on himself while giggling uncontrollably— and that always makes you laugh. so you nod your head, jaehyun grabbing your hand to make sure he doesn’t lose you in the crowd before leading you to the table.

there’s only two more songs played before the dj hops on the stage, speaking into the mic. “karaoke will be ending as it’s time for the band of tonight to take the stage. give us a few minutes while the performers are setting up!”

some people in the crowd hoot and holler excitedly as jaehyun turns his head to you. “i wonder what type of band will be playing tonight, last weeks was pretty good.”

“it’s punk rock!” a girl excitedly butts in from the table right next to yours, having accidentally overheard your conversation.

“a rock band?” you ask, somewhat groaned in annoyance as you now have a personal vendetta against the genre. but your tone goes completely unnoticed by the girl as her eyes continue to sparkle with enthusiasm.

“yeah! their music’s really good and they’re all super hot, my favorite one plays the electric guitar.”

“what’s their name?” jaehyun asks, curiosity evidently sparked.

“wxnder!” she answers, and your brows furrow with the familiarity of it. where have you heard that name before?

the girl’s head turns at a sound and her mouth drops open, a small uproar caused as some people in the crowd shriek and cheer. the unexpected noise has you flinching before looking towards the stage— and your jaw drops too, but not in a good way.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” you say to yourself in shock, watching as riwoo sits down his amp and plugs it into the wall.

“what?…what!” jaehyun whisper-yells, grabbing onto your arm to try and get your attention.

leehan appears next, sitting down behind the drum set that’s already on stage and wagging his head to adjust his hair, causing another small wave of squeals.

then a broad back covered by a black leather jacket abstracts your view, and he doesn’t even need to turn around for you to know who he is— but he does anyway. the way taesan almost immediately catches your gaze amongst the crowd is infuriating, smirking while glancing down at how close your table is to the stage before looking teasingly into your eyes again.

and it makes you pissed, unbelievably so— yet you feel your cheeks burn as you can’t help but think about how hot he looks, the stage lights glinting off his lip ring and drawing your eyes towards them.

have his lips always been so…plump?

taesan winks at you before looking down to tune his guitar, hands gripping the neck of it. veins pop out from the contours of his knuckles; long, thick fingers adorned with silver rings picking at the strings.

fuck…

“y/n?” jaehyun tries again, and you finally respond with the shake of your head, downing the remainder of your drink like it’s a shot.

“it’s nothing.” you insist.

after a few minutes of setting up, tuning, and making sure everything’s in order; taesan introduces the group (not that he exactly needs to, since it seems the bar is full of their fans), saying that their opening song will be ‘take my tears’, a song he wrote himself.

usually you and jaehyun talk throughout a band's live performance, as they’ll be playing all night— but you can’t seem to look away as you listen to the lyrics and how they perform.

it’s entrancing— much different than when you’re trying to ignore them through the studio walls. the song is somewhat emotional, beautiful; yet it also has such a fun and freeing feel. or maybe it’s just the way they sing it— how taesan sings it, his body grooving and head nodding to the beat of their sound. the lyrics aren’t what you’d expect from him— the guy you thought he was, and it leaves you wondering what more there is to him that you wouldn’t expect.

your heart skips a beat, and you’re not sure if it’s just the thrill of the rock music or if it’s because of him; the annoying, pompous punk who suddenly looks so sexy when he’s performing. (and never any other time. definitely not.)

you’ve just finished your second margarita and are a little buzzed by the time their set is finished, the night passing faster than you realized.

jaehyun is eating on a basket of fries, yapping away so fervently that he doesn’t even notice how you’ve gotten up from the table and are approaching taesan— who again locks eyes with you as he walks down the steps of the stage to meet you halfway.

“so, what did you think?” he asks, a little out of breath from the long performance, having had no breaks in between songs.

he stands closely so you can hear him— and it’s enough for you to smell his cologne; to see the way sweat clings to the skin of his neck; deep breaths coming out in puffs as his chest expands. something about it all has an effect on you— or maybe it’s something in the air, because taesan doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes rake over your body, admiring your legs in your denim mini skirt.

“you..you guys were amazing.” you compliment, sounding a little out of breath yourself.

taesan makes a ‘hm’ sound, faintly smiling at you while biting his lip— and you swear you see the glint of metal on his tongue.

your body heats up as you wonder if his tongue is pierced too, what kind of things he could do to you with it, what it would feel like against your skin— before you frantically try and dismiss the increasingly dirty thoughts, reminding yourself that the man you’re fantasizing about is right in front of you.

“i didn’t think you’d actually come.” taesan says, speaking in a teasing tone that you swear seems flirty paired with the slight quirk of his brow.

“how’d you even know we’d be here? did you stalk us, princess?”

okay, surely that was flirting, right?

you’re about to playfully roll your eyes, paired with a smart little comment and deny that’d you’d ever be interested enough to ‘stalk’ them— until the girl that spoke to you about wxnder earlier suddenly appears, putting herself between you and taesan.

“you were absolutely amazing, taesan.” the girl croons, confidently placing her hand on his forearm as she leans all up in his personal space.

and you expect him to shrug her off, either politely or not-so politely establish some distance between them. but again, he surprises you— in a way you absolutely hate.

he smirks at her, in just the same way he did to you just moments ago— and leans even closer to her face, unneededly close.

“aren’t you sweet. thank you so much.”

“no problem.” the girl smiles cattily, clearly enjoying the attention.

something in your heart burns, and that familiar feeling of uncontrollable annoyance comes back even worse than before.

“do you think i could get your autograph?”

“sure, princess.” taesan answers lowly— and that does it.

without even feeling the urge to look back and see that girl all over him, you’re gone, picking up a drunk jaehyun by his arm.

“wh— where are we going?” jaehyun drunkenly slurs, eyes glossed over as they look at you.

“to get an uber home.” you answer firmly, eyes hard as you once again weave through the crowd.

you feel eyes on your back, but you ignore it until you get to the door, turning your head as jaehyun leans half of his body weight against you. even amongst all the faces, you and taesan’s eyes meet easily, his arm now slung around the girl’s waist as she whispers something in his ear.

his lips are in that same smirk— like he’s taunting you, and you scoff, dragging jaehyun and yourself out of the bar.

you can’t believe you were actually feeling into him— but you surely don’t have to worry about that now.

he’s just confirmed that he is in fact what you thought he was: an absolute ass and a cocky player who sings on stage to get girls in his bed.

well, fuck him. he can get his dick wet with anyone he wants but it sure as hell won’t be you.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the very next day you’re back at the dance studio, rehearsing for the upcoming performance.

jaehyun whines the whole day, saying that it’s somehow your fault that he got drunk off his ass— but despite that, he does incredibly well during class. you do also, but unbeknownst to you, your friend wonders why you seem so tense— like something has been bothering you all day.

“shouldn’t you go home and rest, y/n?” jaehyun asks you at the end of class hours. everyone else is packing up their totes and leaving, yet you’re stood at the ballet barre doing leg exercises.

“i’ll be fine. practice makes perfect.” you insist, keeping your eyes on your form in the mirrored wall.

“well..just don’t overwork yourself, okay?” jaehyun sweetly tells you, and you flash him a thankful smile through the mirror.

“don’t worry, yunie, i wont. see you tomorrow.”

if it weren’t for the absolute beast you’re known to be in the studio, jaehyun would force you out of your pointe shoes and drag you home himself— but you don’t seem even a little bit tired, and it appears as though you have some steam to blow off.

so jaehyun and you exchange goodbyes before he leaves you in the empty classroom. (yes, completely empty— aside from the lady at the front desk. no one is as obsessive as you to want to stay even another second practicing when you already have for the whole day— on a saturday night, no less.)

you spend the next thirty minutes going over the steps you learned today that you don’t have down perfectly yet, having small cool downs in the form of stretching in between.

‘entrée d’aurore’ is still playing on your phone when you hear the distant voices of what must be the front desk lady and someone else speaking. you wonder if somebody has returned to get some extra practice in as well, and as you hear footsteps approaching, you remain sitting on the floor doing toe touches.

the door to the classroom opens, echoing slightly in the big, empty space— you lift your head to see someone who definitely is not a part of the sleeping beauty cast.

“y/n?” taesan says somewhat quietly, eyes looking around the big room that only holds one ballerina, who looks small in comparison to the high ceilings and vacant space.

your eyebrows furrow, somewhat irritated to see him while also being surprised— not only by his presence but by the unfamiliar way he almost looks sheepish: barely taking a few steps inside the classroom, looking around like he expects someone or yourself to scold him and kick him out.

“…don’t tell me you auditioned.” you joke, although it’s said casually. your eyes only scrutinize him for a second before you look back down to your own hands as you stretch them across your straightened legs and to your toes.

taesan has seen you a handful of times when you’re in your casual practice wear, but what you’re clad in for an official performance class is a little different. you’re wearing a black leotard with a little mesh skirt, a cropped shirt overtop, tights, and black leg warmers.

you look..really cute. even when you’re pretending to ignore him.

“no. the lady at the front desk said you were in here.” he explains lamely, all his usual snarky remarks not coming to his thoughts as he watches you in your element.

“good. i don’t want to see you in tights anyway. not your aesthetic.”

“sure you don’t.”

your head snaps to look at him before you can think not to react, cheeks heating up as you see the twinkle in his eyes and the small smile he tries to conceal by pressing down his lips.

you sigh as though you’re bothered— because you are— obviously…and get up from your floor stretches to walk over to the ballet barre again. taesan follows you.

“i don’t know why you’re here but i’m practicing. you should leave.”

“who was that with you at the bar last night?”

your cold indifference is broken at the unexpected question, your expression clearly confused as you look at the man standing beside you in the mirrored wall.

“what, jaehyun? he’s my friend. he wanted to go out to celebrate our castings. y’know, for the performance i’m trying to practice for right now?”

“so it was a date.” taesan remarks, eyes hardening right in front of you— and there’s that angered burn in your chest again, your hands squeaking from how tightly they hold onto the barre as your expression turns sour.

“who i date isn’t any of your business to speculate. i haven’t asked you what you and that fangirl got up to last night, have i?” you snap, raising a challenging brow at him— but it only makes him shake his head in unbelief, staring at you like you’re an absolute idiot.

“what? y/n, i don’t even know her name.”

“yes, well, i’m not surprised over that. i’m guessing it’s not very important for you to learn a girl’s name— as long as you’re in between her legs by the end of the night.”

his hand is on your shoulder, turning you around to face him abruptly as he stands closely, right in front of you.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean? you think i fucked her?”

“i don’t want to know what you di—“

“shut the fuck up.” taesan orders, his fingers curling over your wrists making you wonder when they got there in the first place.

��make me.” someone (you?) says, and then you feel the cold press of taesan’s lip ring against your mouth.

it’s firm at first: the way his lips slam into yours, how both of your expressions still look pissed off at each other, even with both of your eyes closed. but eventually you seem to realize that taesan is actually kissing you— and then you’re melting into him, sighing as you feel his touch soften in response.

his kiss quickly turns demanding, lips moving against yours in pursuit of your taste. you squeak when his teeth bite at your bottom lip, not knowing you’ve fallen right into his trap until his tongue has already seized the opportunity and invaded your mouth. turns out you weren’t wrong when you thought you spotted a ball stud piercing on taesan’s tongue, you can most definitely feel it when he brushes it against your own appendage.

your head is pushed against the mirror from his vigor and you whimper, never having felt so dominated simply by a man’s kiss; taesan explores your mouth like he owns it, like it’s his, and it makes your core pulse, a flicker of neediness growing.

the rough groan he lets out as his hands move to roam and grasp at your waist hints at his possessiveness, fingers pressing into your skin through the thin material of your leotard.

“didn’t fuck her. didn’t want to.” he murmurs between the eager movements of his lips. “just wanted to make you jealous.”

“wh— why?” you manage breathily, taesan pressing his body against yours as your hands move to brace yourself on the barre.

“because i like you, y/n.” he smiles and huffs in disbelief at your denseness.

“i want to take you on a date— whether you let me between your legs or not.” he smirks, referring to your earlier harsh remark and making you cringe at the reference.

“i…i’d like that.” you say shyly, looking at him through your lashes. “the date— and..and the other thing too.”

“the other thing?” taesan repeats, confused as you only avoid his gaze, not further explaining— but funnily enough, your sudden bashful attitude is what makes it click in his mind.

“princess?” he experimentally calls, pleased when you automatically lift your head to look at him. his tongue unconsciously peaks out to play with his lip ring as he cockily grins, hand creeping up from your waist to pinch your chin between his fingers.

“why don’t you be a big girl and tell me what you mean?”

your nose crinkles, a pathetic attempt at defiance amidst your embarrassment. taesan’s other hand pinches the tender skin of your thigh, causing you to flinch and whimper at the slight pain as he makes a disapproving sound under his breath.

“come on, y/n. be good or i won’t give you what you want.”

“i— i want you...i meant—”

taesan does anything but go easy on you, eyes dark with mischief as he lowers his head to nibble at your neck. you squeeze your thighs together, looking for relief from the way your pussy now pulses prominently.

his hands move in tandem, one cradling along your jawline while the other brushes up and down your thigh, making you annoyed at your tights with how they keep you from feeling the cold brush of his rings against your skin.

you want them off. you want taesan to take them off. so you admit it.

“want you to fuck me. please, taesan.”

“awe,” he coos. “aren’t you a sweet one.”

you swear the tone in which he says those words turn you into goo, your hands releasing the barre to desperately hold onto his shirt.

“please.” you beg, finding yourself only wanting more praise— more of him— just anything he’s willing to give you.

taesan is able to identify the look in your eyes, staring at your lips and leaning down so slowly, making you whine at his teasing until he finally grants you mercy and kisses you again.

it’s dirtier than before: a lot more spit, moans, and movement from both of your tongues. taesan’s leg leans against the wall between your thighs, and whether it was his purpose to give you relief or not, you take the opportunity and hesitantly grind your core against his ripped jeans.

the pleasure is immediate, sending a tingle up your spine that has you arching against his chest, forgetting any shame as you begin to earnestly grind your hips against him. the thin layers covering your core paired with the roughness of taesan’s denim creates a wonderful friction, feeling how wet you’ve become in your panties.

“shit, you’re such a slut for it.” taesan remarks in genuine awe after breaking the kiss to watch the little show you’re putting on. his eyes take in every movement, from the way you rock against him to how your eyes squeeze shut and you tilt your head back.

the previous song playing on your phone has long since finished as some other tune now plays from your playlist— taesan suddenly becoming aware of it and that he has a girl whimpering and riding his thigh in the middle of a dance classroom.

he abruptly pulls away, the presence between your legs disappearing as you conjure a bratty sound from your throat.

“y/n,” taesan scolds in a harsh whisper. “did you forget where we are?”

“thought you said you’d fuck me if i was good?” you argue, flashing him a defiant expression.

“you think using my thigh to get yourself off without my permission is being good?”

your eyes widen, not expecting him to call you out on it.

looking to the floor and hearing taesan’s responding laugh at your childishness, it only makes the desire to act out against him stronger— you’re just not sure how you can do it in this moment.

“get your things. we can go to my place.” taesan offers, your stomach fluttering at the idea as you do what he says— moving to grab your phone, bag, and change out of your ballet wear.

your heart is pounding out of your chest and what’s between your legs hasn’t calmed down at all either by the time you walk out of the dance studio and sit in the passenger seat of taesan’s car.

and the drive is just as excruciating.

the man seems hellbent on teasing you by not giving you a drop of attention, keeping his eyes on the road while some rock song plays through the speakers. and you know he knows what he’s doing, how you can’t keep his eyes off of him, because the corner of his mouth is subtly turned.

you see no reason to hide it since he’s already aware, so you stare at him— once again admiring how hot his hands look wrapped around the steering wheel, the contours of his jawline and perfect side profile illuminated by the low hanging sun.

your eyes keep wandering— down, down, down until you get to his lap, where you see the large bulge tenting his pants.

your mouth waters and your hands twitch, wondering if he’s really as big as he looks and hoping you’ll get to find out by the end of tonight.

then you’re struck with an idea, recognizing the perfect opportunity you have right now— and you reach your hand out confidently to grope him over his pants.

you’re so proud at the way it makes taesan softly gasp under his breath, back stiffening at the unexpected touch. you mold your hand over his clothed dick, rubbing and gently squeezing— in all the right ways apparently, as you feel him twitch in your hands— even through the thick denim fabric.

“y/n, stop it.” taesan grits, and you hear the squeak of what you guess is his hands gripping tightly around the steering wheel. you don’t look at him until after you’ve located the head of his cock, rubbing over it with your thumb and meeting his fiery glare with a teasing bite to your lip— clearly pleased with yourself.

taesan is visibly pissed at your blatant act of defiance, but he gives you one more chance in the form of a threat.

“you’re not very patient, are you, princess? keep touching my dick like that and you won’t even get to see it out of my pants.”

your hand immediately stills— the man releasing a huff of disbelief when you pull your hand away completely to lay both of your hands on your lap, avoiding his gaze as you stare ahead.

not another word is shared, taesan enjoying the way you nervously squirm in your seat as he finally pulls into his apartment’s parking lot.

“stay.” he simply orders once he’s parked, and you’re left confused as he exits the car, only to watch him come around and open your door for you— even going as far to unbuckle your seatbelt and keep a firm hold around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs of his building. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach yet your insides twist with nervous anticipation— because he does it all with the same stern eyes he spoke to you with as he threatened not to fuck you.

when the key is twisted and his front door lightly squeaks open— his residence somehow looks exactly how you thought; dark, moody, vintage rock posters and memorabilia hanging on the walls.

you expect him to be cheesy and press you against his door the moment it’s closed, but he doesn’t— instead walking over leisurely to his couch and sitting down, legs widely spread in an oddly commanding and powerful way.

your eyes widen at the arousing image, feeling yourself become sheepish as taesan lets his eyes roam over your form without shame.

“why do you look so shy now? you were such a disobedient little slut in the car.”

you swallow, hardly able but trying to hold eye contact with him as your face heats up in a delicious sort of shame.

taesan sighs as though he’s annoyed with your silence, patting one thigh with his hand.

“come here.”

“…h— huh?”

“don’t make me say it again, y/n.” he orders— and next thing you know, your body is moving to straddle the leg he’s directed you to sit on.

“there we go. guess princesses can take orders sometimes, hm?” he rhetorically asks, but you’re nodding your head anyway.

taesan just stares at you for a bit, admiring how pretty you look sitting and waiting for what he’ll do next, so different from the bratty attitude you had during the car ride.

then his hands rest on your bare waist, giving him easy access as you had disregarded your leotard before leaving the studio, now only wearing your cropped shirt and athletic shorts.

you’re unable to conceal the shuddered inhale you take as taesan’s hands creep upward, seeing him smirk at the sound before his hands slip under your shirt and reach your tits.

“no bra?” he teases, biting his lip as his fingers pinch at your hard nipples.

“n— no,” you struggle out, flinching lightly as taesan plays with your tits without any restraint, like your body is his toy. the contrast of his cool rings against your heated skin causes goosebumps to rise on the surface of your arms, chest pushing further into his hands. “didn’t think there was any p—..point.”

you watch as taesan shakes his head like he’s disappointed, yet he’s smiling darkly.

“dirty girl.” he remarks, giving a firmer pinched tug to your hard bud and forcing a whimper to escape from between your lips. “just take everything off then.”

you’re quicker to do what he says this time, only letting your sudden shy attitude make you hesitate for a moment before getting up from his lap to discard your clothing to his floor, keeping eye contact with taesan as best as you can manage— as he seems pleased when you do. he lets out a hungry exhale when you take off your shirt and your tits are revealed to his eyes, hand leisurely jerking himself off over his pants by the time your shorts are removed— leaving you only in your underwear.

“is that a thong, princess?” taesan asks breathily, eyes slightly widening in what you think might be surprise.

“yeah? it’s…it’s what i always wear underneath my leotard.” you confirm, somewhat confused— until taesan speaks again, hand moving up and down his dick faster.

“fuck, just— just didn’t expect such a prissy girl like you to— shit, i don’t know. you’re so hot.”

you smile— and it’s equally sexy and cute in a way that makes taesan feel like he’s going to go insane if you don’t get back on his lap right away. your fingers slip beneath the band of your panties to tug them off, but he stops you before you can.

“don’t. keep them on, wanna see you make a mess in them for me.”

a part of you— the bratty side— wants to say you already have, the dark spot from your leaking arousal evidence of it. but you don’t, the desire to listen actually winning over as you remove your hands from your hips and straddle his thigh again. you hover this time, not fully sitting down as you’re embarrassed for him to feel your wetness directly against his bare skin, which are revealed through the large holes in his jeans.

but taesan catches on immediately, tutting fondly as his hands squeeze at your hips.

“all the way.” he drawls, like he’s giving a ditzy dog a command they’re struggling to understand— and it makes your stomach flip, hurrying to do as he says.

you know he feels it, how your panties clinging to your wet pussy lips press against his thigh— and as he bites at his lip, drawing your eyes to his twinkling piercing yet again— your face burns as you’re sure he’s probably looking at the glistening residue you’ve surely left on his skin.

“good girl.” he mutters roughly, you whining in response as your hands fist into the material of his shirt.

you feel like such a slut, sitting on a man’s lap almost completely bare while he’s fully clothed, your needy pussy slowly drenching his thigh in your juices; and you sound like one too as taesan leans down to suck your nipple into his mouth.

you gasp and stutter— unsure of what you’re even trying to say as taesan chuckles around your bud, continuing to flick and roll his pierced tongue over you. the contrast of his warm appendage and the occasional brush of round metal against your skin makes you sensitive, hole clenching around nothing with every other swipe of his tongue.

“like that?” he whispers before switching to give your other breast attention.

“yes,” you quietly moan, wrapping your arms around to grip and play with the hair at the nape of his neck, subsequently pushing his face deeper into your tits.

he likes that— if his responding groan is anything to judge by, his hands pulling your hips forward and drawing a more unabashed sound from your lips at the movement.

“use me. get your little pussy off on my thigh.”

“fuck— yes,” you obey, rocking your hips and finding a rhythm.

“shit. that’s it, baby.” he coos, his hand suddenly reigning down against your ass a contrast to his soft tone as it leaves your skin tingling with heat. “just a few little touches is all it takes to get the brat out of you, huh?”

you scoff at that— though it’s interrupted by a moan when taesan flexes his thigh. shame burns your skin and his little remark makes you want to act out again, but all you can do is grind your pussy against him, gasping and going faster whenever your covered clit gets brushed over just right.

your hands that are still tangled in his hair pull to disconnect his mouth from your tits, leaning down to kiss him instead. taesan doesn’t scold you for the demanding gesture— but he does lift a hand to grasp it over your throat. he doesn’t squeeze, but the simple act makes you feel so good and dominated— and his other hand which gropes at your ass and snaps the string waistband of your thong has you falling further into delirium.

“please— please, tae. wanna cum.”

“then cum.” he says simply, and when you finally open your squeezed shut eyes, he’s staring at your desperate face with amusement— and just like that, you’re pissed.

“taesan! i can’t! not— not enough!” you whine, not even able to think about how pathetic you sound.

“you’re cumming by my thigh or not at all. this is what you get for acting like a fucking whore while i was driving.”

you whisper out a sigh, and it’s so broken and helpless as you rock your hips earnestly against him that he almost feels bad— but the bigger part of him is proud; proud in a dark and twisted way at how he’s dwindled the ballerina down to nothing but a mindless slut that’s practically crying with the need to cum.

another spank is delivered to your ass and you flinch, taesan’s hand around your neck getting a little firmer as he forces your teary eyes to look up at him— and you feel like a dog in heat as your hips never stop their efforts to bring you to release.

“please.” you beg, and taesan’s eyes turn hazey at the beautiful sound.

“come on, princess. i know you can do it for me.” he encourages— and turns out that’s all you needed.

taesan gets an up close view as your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth dropping open in a silent cry as he feels you ruin your panties even further.

his thigh is dripping as you keep rutting your hips against him, letting out small whimpers as you work yourself through your high. taesan grants you mercy at the very end, helping you grind your hips before eventually slowing you to a stop.

then he’s picking you up and carrying you into what you can only assume is his bedroom— because in the next moment he’s laying you down on a black comforter-covered mattress and stripping off his clothes.

you’re panting, still catching your breath— but you still manage to make a somewhat teasing comment as the man’s bare chest is revealed to you.

“no tattoos?”

taesan looks up at you right after pulling his shirt over his head, black hair disheveled and brushing over his eyes as he smirks silently at you and combs it out of his face.

“i thought all emo’s had tattoos.” you tack on— and that gets him to respond.

“emo?! i’m not emo, i’m fucking punk!” he argues, somewhat offended but mostly amused as he works on removing his jeans.

“emo, punk, metalhead. it’s all the same thing.” you offhandedly say.

“…i’m about to go soft.” taesan threatens.

“kidding!” you laugh, sitting up on your elbows— and the smile is completely wiped off your face when taesan removes his boxers and his dick is finally freed, slapping against his abs.

“shit..” you whisper to yourself, watching as taesan rolls a condom on before climbing on the bed and caging you underneath him with his body.

“need me to stretch you first, princess?” taesan sweetly asks after peeling off your drenched panties, hand brushing up and down your hip soothingly.

as much as you want his sexy fingers in your cunt— you can’t wait any longer, spreading your legs for him as you flash him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“no. please just fuck me, taesanie. need you.”

“god…” taesan sighs, not making you wait anymore as he lines his head to your entrance before pushing in slowly. “oh, fuck. you’re so tight, princess.”

your chest heaves as he pushes into the hilt, your hands gripping against the sheets.

“move. fuck me hard, please. want it rough.”

you think you hear taesan mutter something about you being a dream before his pulling out till just the tip is stretching your hole— and slamming back inside.

you both turn a little animalistic and desperate, learning how the other feels and bodies being taken over by the pleasure of it. taesan’s cock stretches you out so good— he fucks you so good. the rocking of his bed frame hits against his wall, and you have a fleeting thought about if the walls are thin and if he’ll get a noise complaint— before all that is forgotten as taesan takes hold of one of your thighs and bends it against your chest.

“feel it, baby? feel how fucking bad i want you?” taesan groans between his teeth, hand squeezing tightly around your leg unconsciously— and you secretly hope it leaves mark indentations from his rings; tiny bruises from his fingers you can admire the next day.

you only can respond so his deeply uttered words with a broken moan, and taesan only fucks you harder.

“that’s it, princess got what she wanted.” he coos, eyes surprising you by how they turn a little soft— though the movement of his hips certainly never do. “always give my princess what she wants.”

you whine at that, grabbing him by the shoulders to ask for a kiss.

“fuck, you drive me crazy, y/n.” he breathes before leaning down to yet again give you what you ask for.

“but i like that about you.” he finishes between kisses.

your thighs are trembling in pleasure, sweat is lining your hairline and glistening from taesan’s chest— and you can’t take it anymore, wrapping your legs around taesan’s waist as your nails dig into his back.

“can i come, please? oh, fff— please?”

“such a good fucking slut when you got a cock in you, huh? can’t believe my princess likes it rough.”

his hand manages to squeeze between your bodies despite how tightly you cling to him, his fingers finding your clit and tracing shapes over it.

“cum, baby. get it all over my sheets.”

your body going stiff before trembling uncontrollably against him, all while your pussy clenched around his throbbing cock— it brings taesan to release as well, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow each other's cries of pleasure.

the come down is slow, taesan rolling over and pulling your body on top of his so he doesn’t accidentally fall against you in exhaustion.

your deep breaths puff warmly against his neck as he cradles you on his chest, hands swirling patterns over your back absentmindedly.

“that was…amazing.” you say around a sigh, enjoying the comforting aroma of taesan’s cologne imbedded into his sheets.

“yeah…are you done?” taesan asks, still breathy yet curious— and you raise your head to look at his face.

“you want to go again?”

“well,” taesan starts, somewhat sheepishly— yet his eyes hold that constant playful sparkle. “just thought you might be curious what it feels like to get eaten out with a piercing.”

your eyes widen, clearly shocked by not only the question but at how correct he is.

“come on, princess. you’re not slick. don’t think i didn’t notice you staring at it when we were at the bar. plus, you did say you wanted me between your legs—“

“can you stop bringing that up!?”

note ; and for anyone wondering, yes, taesan went to reader’s ballet performance. (and yes, he got jealous watching her and jaehyun dancing on stage together…part two material?🤭)

all taglists (perm/fluff/smut) are open if anyone would like to be added! age must be in bio/somewhere on pinned post if you want to be tagged in perm/smut taglist.

[healthyskillz]

Ran 4x this week, before breakfast! I've really become a morning runner, who would've thought? Not me!

The beautiful fall weather ánd some creative doodling in my bujo energized me for a meal prep session.

I made granola bars with the leftover egg whites from yesterday's Tarte Quejiada de Sintra. I felt excited to make the Oh She Glows Heartbeet soup, a staple in my house every winter. Tonight we had sauerkraut Surinam style which was too much, so half will be frozen for a busy day. While that was cooking, I was scrolling through some #struggle meals on Tumblr and was shocked to see how easily polenta can be made in the oven (1 pt polenta, 4 pts water, tsp salt - bake for 1hr @ 200 degres), so I finally made a batch from the flour that has been sitting in my pantry for a while. Meanwhile husband baked himself some cookies as well.

I have a busy week ahead but am happy to have some healthy meals ready in the fridge and freezer.

[kelthoumrambles]

L'autre jour, j'ai aidé un gars dans la rue. Plus ou moins mon âge. Il devait être 19h, il faisait 34 degres. Il était dé-fon-cey. Au début, ça me faisait chier puis je me suis dit "on dirait un peu moi". Jlui ai alors demandé ce qu'il avait pris. Du gbl. Il tenait plus trop debout, il avait des contractions musculaires incontrôlables et avait perdu ses réflexes. Je lui ai dit qu'il ressemblait à une merde et qu'il savait pas doser. Ensuite, je lui ai acheté une bouteille d'eau et j'ai attendu son bus avec lui. Je lui ai demandé comment il allait en général. Mal. On a un peu rigolé. Finalement, je lui ai refilé l'adresse de l'hôpital psychiatrique et je lui ai dit qu'il méritait d'être heureux. Bref, des conseils à deux balles

[hanakodanslacordilleredesandes]

peninsula valdes, argentina

2023/12/03

ces pinguins ne sont pas sur la banquise pourtant c'est la qu'ils couvent leurs oeufs. temperature anoncee jusqu'a 30 degres cette semaine, mais avec le vent on se rend pas trop compte qu'il fait chaud.

des elephantes de mer avec leurs petits?

on a aussi vu des 'baleines franches australes' mais mes photos sont pas terribles...

sinon, puerto madryn est une ville paisible assez sympathique. et il y a des cerises!

[saltedcoffeee]

QUAND EST CE QUE VOUS AVEZ COMPRİS QUE PİERRE DE VİLLEBREQUİN BAH SON NUMERO CEST 10 PARCE QUE PİERRE DE F1 SON NUMERO CEST LE 10????PERSO JE VİENS A PEİNE DE M'EN RENDRE COMPTE

[superiorkenshi]

Tiktok essaie de me remettre dans mes Tony stark feels et c'est super efficace

[d0vepet]

being collared and waiting at his feet for him to use me 😵‍💫😵‍💫

[superiorkenshi]

OMG MY BABY MY SON MY EVERYTHING

MERCI RAEL GKEKFKEJEJ

Eeeeeeh j’en suis enfin venu à bout!

L’oc de @superiorkenshi, de la licence A Series Of Unfortunate Events

Et accessoirement son cadeau d’anniversaire que je lui fais miroiter depuis plus d’un mois, quelle honte d’avoir mis autant de temps

J’espère que cette surprise te plaira hehehehe

[frisquette27]

En écrivant ET SI .. j'ai retrouvé dans mes vielles notes des idées completement farfelues ce qui m'a donné l'idée de les regrouper et d'écrire une histoire completement barge. J'avais prévu de faire qu"un chapitre mais elle est trop longue donc je partage déjà un premier chapitre.

Cette histoire est à prendre 3eme degres (voire plus) mais ça m'amuse. Et comme d'habitude écrit à la va vite ...

Un philtre sans philtre…

Jamais il n’avait vu ça, comment cet énergumène avait pu se tromper à ce point et surtout comment avait-il fait pour créer une potion qui aurait de tels effets. Il savait depuis longtemps que la réputation de Merlin était surfaite et que c’était disons-le sans langue de bois, un gros nul. Mais là, il avait fait très fort. Certes cela entraînerait surement des conséquences mais Elias avait eu une superbe journée, il n’avait jamais autant ri. Les habitants du château eux n’avaient certainement pas trouvé cela très drôle. Prendre ses quatre vérités en pleine figure ce n’était déjà pas facile mais personne n’aurait pu soupçonner que la vérité c’était la Reine qui allait la donner. Quel caractère ! Jamais Elias n’aurait pensé que Guenièvre était aussi volcanique et amusante. Elle cachait bien son jeu derrière son minois angélique.

Tout avait commencé par une commande un peu inhabituelle émanant d’un crétin du château, l’autre bourgeois voulait une potion qui rendrait sa femme moins coincée, il voulait une potion qui la désinhiberait un peu. Il avait donc concocté pour une somme rondelette une nouvelle potion, entre la potion de vérité et une potion d’euphorie mais voilà Merlin vexé avait essayé de faire de même. La potion de Merlin était d’un vert étrange avec une fumée violette qui s’échappait de la fiole. Elias l’avait donc invectivé en lui conseillant fortement de se débarrasser de cette mixture rapidement avant d’empoisonner quelqu’un. Mais comme à son habitude l’enchanteur n’avait pas rangé ladite mixture et elle avait trainé sur la table pendant des jours jusqu’à ce matin.

Cela faisait quelques semaines qu’elle avait réintégré le château et son rôle de pante verte, heu non de Reine pensa-t-elle, tout avait repris comme avant. Mis à part le fait qu’elle était plus loquace avec son mari, elle osait maintenant lui dire ce qu’elle pensait, en tout cas elle avait vu juste pour l’arrivée du Roi Loth. Elle reprenait doucement ses marques dans la vie du château même si elle évité soigneusement la femme de Karadoc tout avait à peu près pris le même chemin. D’ailleurs il fallait absolument qu’elle demande au Roi quand avait-il prévu de laisser partir les seigneurs Karadoc et Perceval pour qu’ils puissent monter leur clan autonome car éviter son ancienne amie était particulièrement désagréable. Elle se sentait coupable envers elle ce qui était un comble, peut être devrait elle lui offrir un présent. Du coup ses nuits étaient tourmentées et ce matin une migraine lui donnait la nausée. Elle décida donc de se rendre chez Merlin dès l’aube pour soulager sa douleur.

« Ah ben si vous avez mal à ce point il vous faut une potion »

« C’est justement pour ça que je suis là, je suis vraiment désolé de vous déranger Merlin »

« Non mais vous ne le dérangeait pas ! Il ne sait juste pas faire ce genre de potion »

« Non mais ça va oui, on ne vous a pas sonné Môssieur Elias, c’est à moi que la Reine demande d’abord »

« Oui justement c’est la Reine, vous allez donc pas l’empoisonner ! »

Elias posa sur la table une fiole au milieu de tout le bazar de son acolyte.

« Je pense que ma potion sera plus efficace ma Reine si vous voulez ne plus avoir mal à la tête avec l’autre agité vous risquez d’être transformé en pigeon »

« Ah non beurk pas en pigeon »

« Et puis quoi encore ! Vous en connaissez-vous des potions qui transforment les gens en pigeon »

« Oui ça existe mais vous ne savez pas les faire »

« Ah vous voyez ! » dit Merlin en le pointant du doigt

« Non mais ce n’était pas un compliment »

« Je m’en doute venant de vous cela tiendrait du miracle »

« Je disais juste que vous êtes un GROS nul et que c’est dangereux de prendre la moindre de vos potions »

« Désolé Messieurs, je ne voulais surtout pas vous déranger, je vais prendre la potion et vous laissez d’accord »

Les deux enchanteurs n’entendirent pas la Reine, trop occupé à se disputer et surtout ils ne virent pas qu’elle prit la potion verte avec elle.  

Dans le couloir Guenièvre se rendit compte qu’elle ne savait quelle dose prendre, entendant encore les cris émaner du laboratoire, elle n’osa pas y retourner pour demander. Tant pis elle prit toute la fiole, cette potion avait un gout affreux et lui fit tourner la tête, elle n’aurait certainement pas du tout prendre.

En se rendant dans sa chambre, elle réalisa que son mal de tête était bien parti mais elle se sentait étrange. Elle était un peu euphorique tout d’abord elle mit cela sur le compte du soulagement, le fait de ne plus avoir mal devait la rendre heureuse. Tiens ce dit-elle en ouvrant la porte, son mari était levé et déjà parti ce qui était plutôt surprenant car depuis son retour il avait tendance à trainer longtemps dans leurs lits. Peut-être en ne la voyant pas ce matin, il s’était décidé à se lever plus tôt mais non ma pauvre fille pensa-t-elle, on a dû venir le chercher pour une urgence. Enfin une urgence, il la faisait bien rire avec leurs urgences, on dirait plutôt une bande de môme qui ne sais rien faire sans leur Roi.  Oh non comment pouvait-elle avoir ce genre de pensée, elle était étrange ce matin, les chevaliers n’étaient pas une bande d’attardé, oh mon dieu, si, c’était tous des idiots. Alors c’était vrai, elle-même manquait cruellement de culture, on ne lui avait jamais vraiment permis d’accéder au savoir mais finalement se dit elle, elle n’était pas stupide il suffisait que l’on lui explique un peu et elle percutait bien. En revanche les chevaliers, parce que c’étaient des hommes on partait du principe qu’ils étaient réfléchis, ce matin elle en doutait fortement.

La nouvelle servante fit son apparition avec le plateau du petit déjeuner, elle se planta devant le lit vide. Guenièvre qui était assise devant sa coiffeuse regardait perplexe la jeune femme ne pas bouger.

« Vous attendez quoi du coup »

La servante sursauta et fixa la Reine.

« Je dois servir le petit déjeuner »

« Posez donc le plateau sur la table »

« On m’a dit que je devais servir le petit déjeuner de Monsieur au lit »

« Oui peut être, posez le plateau sur la table, il n’y a personne dans le lit »

« Ni Monsieur ni Madame ne sont dans le lit, on ne m’a pas dit de le poser sur la table »

Réflexion faite les chevaliers devaient quand même paraitre vachement plus réfléchi du coup.

« C’est pour ça que vous ai demandé de le poser sur la table, vu que ni monsieur ni moi-même étions dans le lit »

« Du coup c’est vous madame »

« On s’est déjà vu Nessa, vous ne vous rappelez pas de moi, je suis la Reine Guenièvre »

« Votre prénom je ne m’en rappelais plus, du coup c’est plus pratique de vous appeler Madame, mais comme Monsieur il change pas mal de Madame je m’y perds »

« Oui je comprends, Monsieur a tendance à beaucoup changer de Madame mais c’est pas grave vous pouvez reprendre votre plateau je n’ai pas très faim »

« Et Monsieur ? »

«Il est pas là ! »

« Il n’a pas faim du coup »

« Non voilà il n’a pas faim et de toute façon il est pas là »

« Mais il ne va pas revenir, faut pas que je l’attende avec le plateau ?»

« Vous voulez l’attendre avec le plateau devant le lit jusqu’à son retour, c’est ça »

« C’est peut-être mieux, on m’a pas dit si je pouvais partir si Monsieur était pas là »

« Pfff Ok moi je vais m’habiller correctement faites ce que vous voulez »

Elle entreprit donc d’enfiler une robe plus convenable, enfin plus Reine derrière le paravent, en regardant de plus près la robe préparer par Angharad, elle eut un doute. Elle sortit de derrière le paravent la robe mal attachée et se planta devant la servante.

« Qu’est-ce que vous en pensez ? »

« De quoi ? »

« De la Robe ! Qu’est-ce que vous en pensez ! Sincèrement ! »

« Sincèrement ? »

« Oui , oui avec vous je pense que je peux avoir la vérité »

« Ben c’est une robe de bourge »

« Ok mais sinon »

« C’est une robe pour les vielles bourgeoise »

« Donc cette robe me vieillit c’est ça »

« Non disons que, vous ne donnez pas envie »

« Ah oui carrément »

« Ben c’est ça qui est bien avec les bourgeoises c’est qu’il n’y a pas beaucoup de peau qui dépasse et puis ça met pas en valeur vos formes et du coup les messieurs ils préfèrent les p’tites servantes car on fait plus… vous voyiez quoi »

« Je voulais la vérité ben je l’ai eu »

Pourtant Guenièvre n’était absolument pas contrariée par les réflexions de la servante bien au contraire elle était même d’accord avec cette dernière. Ce matin elle se sentait joueuse et avait bien envie d’être un petit peu plus outrageuse dans sa tenue, c’est vrai après tout elle était jeune et la nature lui avait donné des jolies arguments à mettre en valeur. Et la cerise sur le gâteau se dit elle, cela risqué de faire parler la cour et pour une fois qu’elle l'aurait fait exprès, elle s’en réjouissait d’avance. Elle fit donc appeler Angharad, qui ramena rapidement une multitude de robe.

« Je n’ai pas bien compris la demande de Madame, je me suis permise de ramener de multiple choix, même des robes que vous aviez étant princesse »

« C’est une excellente idée mais je ne suis plus une jouvencelle »

« Que Madame me permette cette réflexion, mais vous avez perdu un peu de poids suite à votre aventure dans la forêt »

« Vous avez raison mais j’ai gardé des formes que je n’avais pas étant jeune fille »

« De très jolie forme ! » dit la servante au plateau

« Mais pourquoi vous êtes encore là avec votre plateau, vous devriez déjà être de retour en cuisine, vous n’avez rien à faire dans les appartements de Madame »

« Non mais laissez là Angharad, elle attend Arthur »

« Mais Madame le Roi a déjà pris son petit déjeuner dans la salle »

« Ah bah vous voyiez vous pouvez partir Nessa »

« Ah non il va encore me crier dessus, une fois je lui repris le plateau et il a rouspété »

« Arthur rouspète tout le temps alors ça va rien changer ! »

Pourtant Nessa ne bougea regardant amusé la Reine essayer plusieurs robes différentes. Guenièvre finit par jeter son dévolu sur robe simple qui souligné parfaitement son buste, les épaules nues, elle était à la fois jolie et désirable.

« Bon parfait celle-là me ressemble plus »

« Vous êtes sur ma Reine, elle et quand même très serrée au niveau de la poitrine et beaucoup décolleté, ce n’est pas vraiment le genre de tenue que Madame porte habituellement »

« Bah justement ! je préfère ce type de robe »

« Votre mère risque de ne pas apprécier votre initiative »

Avec un grand un sourire, la Reine tourna sur elle-même, réellement ravie de porter enfin quelque chose qui lui plaisait.

« Bah tant pis ! Elle fera avec ! Tout le monde fera avec voilà c’est dit !»

Ce n’était plus qu’une simple euphorie, elle était bien, totalement en accord avec elle-même. Elle ferait ce qu’elle voudrait quand elle le voudrait. Elle était tellement transparente d’habitude, que là tout de suite elle voulait dire et faire ce qu’elle avait toujours voulu.

« Angharad arrêtez de faire les gros yeux, allez plutôt vous occuper de votre fiancé enfin fiancé je m’entends, d’ailleurs qu’est ce que vous attendez pour qu’il devienne vraiment votre fiancé »

« Disons que c’est plus compliqué qu’il n’y parait avec le seigneur Perceval nous entretenons il me semble une relation courtoise mais il me parait toutefois que nous nous dirigeons vers la bonne direction »

« Dans dix ans vous y êtes encore, je ne suis pas la mieux placé pour vous donner des conseils mais je vais lui parler, c’est beaucoup trop long ! »

Elle sorti en trombe de la chambre laissant les deux femmes estomaquées par son aplomb. Elle se dirigea d'un pas rapide vers la cour sans vraiment trop savoir ce qu’elle allait pouvoir dire au chevalier mais persuadé que si elle lui parlait simplement elle pourrait débloquer une situation qu’il n’avait pas lieu d’être. A défaut d’être elle-même heureuse dans son couple, elle ferait tout pour que sa suivante le soi.  

Dans la cour se trouvait son mari qui houspillait aprés les seigneurs Karadoc et Perceval, la Reine sourit contente d’avoir trouvé le chevalier aussi rapidement.

« Non mais ça fait un quart d’heure que je vous explique la même chose et je n’ai pas le temps à perdre avec deux abrutis qui pige que dalle à ce que je leur raconte ! Alors vous allez ouvrir grand vos écoutilles ! »

« Mais du coup on est un clan autonome on a plus besoin de vous obéir non, c’est pas un peu le concept »

Arthur était hors de lui, quelle perte de temps, il était Roi bon sang ! Il sorti excalibur de son fourreau et brandit l’épée devant les deux hommes en hurlant.

« Je suis le Roi et vous voyez ça ! » dit il en le mettant l’épée flamboyante sous le nez «  ça c’est excalibur qui fait de moi le chef suprême donc clan autonome ou pas vous prenez trois secondes pour m’écouter »

Il n’avait pas entendu Guenièvre arrivée, il fut donc surpris quand elle posa sa main sur son bras en signe d’apaisement. Sursautant légèrement au contact de cette dernière. 

« Oh mais vous n’allez pas nous la sortir dès que quelque chose vous contrarie mon ami on va finir par croire que vous avez des complexes »

Elle se pencha à son oreille et lui murmura doucement pour qu’il soit le seul à l’entendre

« Ah mais c’est peut-être pour ça ! vous avez un complexe en même temps je suis la moins bien placé pour soutenir le contraire »

Les joues du Roi virèrent aux rouges, muet par l’audace de sa femme, elle n’avait quand même pas osé lui dire ça, elle avait bien sous-entendu ce qu’il venait de comprendre. Son regard espiègle le transperçait de toute part et son petit sourire mutin lui donnait des frissons. Il l’examina de la tête au pied, elle était magnifique et même beaucoup trop désirable dans cette tenue, il eu un coup de chaud.

« Seigneur Perceval, il faut absolument que je vous parle »

Elle avait lâché le bras de son mari pour prendre celui du chevalier et l’entraina avec elle au loin sans se soucier nullement de ce que pouvait penser les autres, et en particulier son mari.

« Je vous le rend après ! Ne vous inquiétez surtout pas vous pourrez continuer à leur hurler dessus, comme d’habitude quoi ! »

Arthur était totalement abasourdi par le cran de sa femme et il était resté là, la bouche ouverte.

« Qu’est ce qu’elle vous a dit ? »

« La ferme Karadoc »

[kaliarda]

some transition funds ⇩ ⇩ ⇩

support the greek trans community

[logansanderslove]

Logan 3.0   (1/?)

CO-AUTHOR: @demented-dukey

Summary: Remus is an incorrigible flirt, and Logan can only bear the innuendo for so long until something has to give. Passions erupt, but there are more lasting repercussions than either could have predicted, including a significant transformation to Logan himself! How will these new changes affect the delicate balance of Thomas's mental state? When a new dark side threatens the lives of several of the other sides, will Logan and Remus's love be strong enough to save everyone, including Thomas?

Ships: INTRULOGICAL

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Thomas, Roman, Virgil, Patton, Deceit

Fic type: Drama, Romantic, Action, Flirty

Trigger Warnings: No character deaths, but a lot of very close calls. Consensual knife play and bloodplay, and lots of bloody fighting and monster attacks. If you’re sensitive to unsympathetic characters, some parts flirt pretty close to that, but there’s also a lot of extenuating circumstances to explain the situation, and there’s a happy ending once you get through the angst and misunderstandings. Self-harm and references to such, and suicidal tendencies.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1: Witty Banter

Logic and Bad Creativity had been disputing all day, and as late as it was now, it didn't seem like they were going to stop any time soon.

Logan crossed his arms as he leaned against the stairs in the common area, staring nonchalantly at the Dark Side before him. “You don’t get to me in the slightest, Remus. You never have. Object impermanence renders you pretty unintimidating.”

Remus smirked in his regular cocky way, suggestively stroking the ninja star that he held in his hands. “Is that so, Nerdy Wolverine?” His voice was smooth and unbothered.

Logan nodded. “Yes, it IS, you foul and infatuated goat.” He spat, but Remus just smiled. 

“Ooh, thank you for the metaphorical regards! ‘Foul’ and ‘goat-like’ is what I’m going for!” he said, clapping his hands excitedly. “I thought it might be a fun change from the pickled poo logs.”

Logan frowned, rather frustrated that his attempted insult had backfired. “Ah. I see. Would it bother you then if I were to call you nice and harmless? Cherubic? How about spritely? Were I to call you caring and loving, especially towards your brother, would that bother you, Remus?” He remarked, but Remus just shrugged off the innuendo and giggled.

“I love how hard you try, it’s so cute!” he cooed. He then approached the logical side, letting his fingertips slide down Logan’s tie suggestively. “If you’re interested, I’d be happy to provide you a personal show of just how loving I can be?” He said with a wink and a dirty grin.

Logan forced a smile as he ignored Remus' suggestive actions. “Well, while that offer is certainly tempting, Remus, I am going to have to decline. I’m not exactly sure how I would put up with your lunacy, and I also doubt that the others would find this offer very… acceptable.” He stated, bringing a scoff from Remus.

“Those spoilsports would never have to know,” he winked at Logan. “I can be covert if you’d like.”

Logan gave him a dead-eyed stare. “Can you? Well, Remus, as I said before, all I would ever do is figuratively dress you down. That is all.”

Remus’ eyes lit up. “OH! Well, if that’s what you wanted, Logan,” he unzipped his pants. “You could’ve just said so!”

Logan shook his head, holding up his hand. “AH AH AH AH. I said, FIGURATIVELY. And that is why I say it. That. Is. Why. I. Say. It!” He clapped his hands with each word. He let out a deep breath. "I don't just spout random words without meaning!! I say things for a reason!"

Remus’s expression fell into a frown, and he slowly zipped his pants back up. “Poopy...” he muttered sadly.

Logan groaned. "Oh, stop pouting. It’s not a good look for a royal man. Even if that man is you.” 

Remus perked up, mood swinging as wildly as a pendulum, “Aw, Logan, you notice my looks? I’m flattered!” He said joyously. 

Logan’s ears flushed a bit, realizing his mistake all too late. “No, I don’t. I just don’t exactly see a grown man whining and pouting as a productive thing to be doing.” He restated.

“It can be very productive to make a grown man whine if you’re doing it right,” Remus smirked, leering at him.

Logan’s face immediately went red. “That is not what I meant and you KNOW IT.” He defended quickly.

Remus shrugged, hands held up defensively, a big smile across his face. “Perhaps. Much like your lascivious thoughts, I just love showing up where I’m not invited,” he punctuated his words with a quick shimmy.

Logan’s eyes shot open. “WHA-” His flustered mind tried to find the words. “‘Lascivious’?! What on Earth would ever lead you to say that I, the VOICE OF REASON, would ever have such provocative thoughts?!” He spluttered, then he took a long breath, managing to calm himself. “And in all honesty, I believe that we are used to you showing up where you’re not invited by now, Remus. In fact, you just showing up is exactly that, because no one ever wants to invite you.” He snarked. 

Remus tilted his head. “Deny it all you want, Neil deGrASS Tyson. You can’t block out all the juicy stuff.” He cooed with a little dance of sexual innuendo.

Logan put a hand to his face, groaning. “Please do not say ‘juicy’ in that context ever again.”

Remus opened his mouth, held up his finger, then clicked his tongue. “...Juicy butthole?” He questioned, to which Logan just froze, then let out an exasperated breath. 

“REMUS. THAT IS WORSE.” 

Remus frowned. “Did...did I say something wrong? Are you...are you gonna punish me, Teach?” He wondered, just bringing another sigh from Logan. 

“Remus, why do you insist on trying to bother me?”

Remus ran his fingers over his mustache. “It’s no bother, I assure you! I’m only trying to help, you seem so tense, my dear disciplinarian.” 

Logan adjusted his glasses with a breath. “I am told that I always seem that way. Whilst, in fact, I am very relaxed.” 

Remus flicked his eyebrows up. "Like the eye of a storm? You should let the tempest rage sometimes…” He slunk closer. “And I don’t mind getting a little wet.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You, sir, are despicable.”

Remus stuck his tongue out. “I like to call myself de-lickable.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “NO.” He said sternly.

Remus put a finger to his chin in a suggestive manner. “Ooh, I love it when you raise your voice. Please, sir, what are your demands?” He drawled out.

Logan’s face sported the most unamused expression. “That you stop flirting with me. Don’t assume that I’m not aware of what you’re trying to do.”

Remus licked his lips. “Skip the appetizer and jump straight into the main course? As you wish!” He tore off his shirt as easily as lifting a feather. Logan’s eyes went wide and he waved his hands frantically. 

“NO. NO, NO, NO. PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON RIGHT NOW, REMUS, OR I WILL SUMMON DECEIT TO REIGN YOU IN.” He ordered.

“Kinky! If you wanted a threesome, count me in! I LOVE being given two D’s at once!” Remus winked at him again, a seemingly regular occurrence. “My safe word is ‘apples’.” He then laughed. “I’m just kidding! I don’t have a safe word!”

Logan grabbed at his hair with an aggravated groan. “NO! REMUS, STOP! STOP THIS INCESSANT MADNESS!” He exclaimed desperately, to which Remus drew back a bit.

“Careful, Teach. Your calm is wearing a bit thin. I’d be happy to ruffle more than your feathers if you know what I mean…” He flirted. 

The intellectual let out a deep breath. “I-” He couldn’t even make a sound other than angry flustered noises. “Please stop…” He finally got out, spinning away as he shook his head.

Remus hesitated, then he shrugged. “I changed my mind. I’m unpredictable like that, I don’t think you could handle all this,” he said as he shimmied. He then pulled his shirt back over his head gracefully. “Free show’s over. Wasted on you, anyways. You’re obviously too much of a brainiac to appreciate more physical pleasures.”

Logan rubbed his face with his hands. “Remus, please…” His voice was exasperated.

Remus’ voice became skeptical. “Had a change of heart? Doesn’t seem like that’s in your purview.”

Logan shook his head with a sigh. “No, Remus, that is not what I am trying to say.” He whirled around, his tolerance almost worn through. “Why are you so fascinated with ME? Why not go bother your brother or something? Why are you flirting with me?” He questioned, a tired tone to his voice.

Remus was quiet for a moment, eyeing Logan slowly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re a smart boy, Logan. Brilliant, even. Is it any wonder that I can’t look away from your brilliance?” A kind smile was offered. “You shine so brightly. You can hardly blame a moth for being attracted to the flame.”

Logan blinked in surprise, trying to process what he had just heard. “Wh-...You truly think of me so highly? I…” He didn’t know what to say.

Remus shrugged. “The others make it quite clear that they consider me below you all. How else could a lowly creature such as myself look upon you, but as if atop a pedestal?” He wondered.

Logan was still struggling to process this, but when he heard Remus’ statement, he suddenly realized something. “Remus, I… I have never considered you lower than anyone. I know that we all play our own parts, and no one is below anyone else.” He bit his lip. “As much as I sometimes despise your thinking, you are still an imperative part of our existence. You are Roman’s other half. If you were neglected, Roman would suffer. I have always valued your input, as odd as it can be. It is creativity in your own, unique way.”

He glanced to the side. “You… you shouldn’t feel like you have to annoy us all the time just to get noticed and to make you feel like a part of the group. I…I’ll always…” Logan hesitated, thinking on his words.

“Remus, I’ll always acknowledge you. As I said before, you don’t really affect me as much as the others. Granted, you can still irritate me, but I won’t ignore you. I just...want you to know that.” He said softly, finally raising his head.

Remus blinked a few times, twitching a bit, then he rubbed the back of his head, brushing his sleeves down as he tried to play it off that he wasn’t completely stunned by the words of the Logical side. “No need to pity me, Professor Plum-pbottom. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than below you, where you can really value my input.” He said, a smirk crossing his face.

Logan sighed in slight disappointment. “Remus, it was starting to become a nice moment.” He said with a frown.

Remus sent him a brittle grin. “Yeah, well. My brother’s the nice one, not me. That should be obvious enough for you to see it, even without those glasses.” He spat, a bit of pain lingering.

Logan nodded, closing his eyes. “Apologies. I just thought for a moment that you had started to act...well...decent.” He admitted.

Remus laughed, the sound a bit too high-pitched to be casual. “Bite your tongue! I’m as indecent as they come!” 

Logan raised an eyebrow, rubbing his chin with his hand as a small smirk appeared across his face. “Am I making you nervous, Remus?” He asked.

Remus seemed to tense up. “Nervous? Me?” He ran his hand through his hair with a flourish, bringing an even higher eyebrow from Logan. “Surely, you jest.”

Logan flicked his eyebrows up. “Well, the reason I asked is due to the fact that your entire demeanor just changed. You are now exhibiting tics that one will make when feeling a bit nervous, including unnecessary fiddling, forcefully laughing or laughing nervously, your eyes seem to have a spark of uncertainty to them, and I can hear the quake in your voice, however almost incoherent it may be.” He flicked his hand at Remus’ wide eyes. “I am LOGIC, Remus. Don’t think that I don’t notice these things.”

Remus blinked his wide eyes, then took a very small unconscious step back. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but hardly any noise came out. “I…”

Logan shook his head. “Remus, it’s okay,” his voice was soft and comforting. “Why are you nervous?”

The Duke bit his lip and turned his gaze away from Logan, who was oddly curious at the Dark Side’s behavior. “Remus? Are you okay?”

Remus finally mustered the will to form words, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve as he frowned. “M’not worth it. You’re...you’re better than me, Lo. I’m not fit to lick your shoes.” He offered a half-hearted dirty grin. “I’d still lick ‘em, though.” 

He took a shaky breath. “But, you deserve…” He swallowed hard. “You deserve better. And I…” He tore his eyes away, his voice breaking. “I can’t be that for you. Any goodness I had? That all went to Roman. I’m just…”

A hard and shaky breath escaped his lips. “I’m just what’s left behind.”

Logan’s eyes had gone wide, then he reached out to put his hand on the other’s arm. “Remus…”

The Duke flinched from the touch as Logan held his arm. “Listen to me. That is no way to think. Please. Just...give yourself some credit. I can see what good there is in you that you may not even know you have. But I know it’s there.” He pressed his finger to the center of Remus’ chest, poking him. “It’s right there.”

Remus sighed, then shook his head. “For somebody so good at calling out falsehoods, you seem awfully fond of telling them to yourself.” He put a hand to his chest, shaking his head again. “There’s nothing here, Lo. Nothing but filth and trash, the impure dregs of Creativity that not even Thomas could accept.” He closed his eyes. “You said it yourself, ‘no one ever wants to invite you’. There’s nothing in me that any of you want around, and if Thomas could get rid of me without hurting Roman, I would have been destroyed long ago. As it was, I was exiled to the darkest parts of Thomas’ subconscious… not exactly something you would do to someone who was ‘good’, now would you?” He bit his lip hard. “It’s only logical, after all. If you’re thrown away, you must be trash.” He muttered under his breath.

Logan stood frozen to the spot, his heart stopped after realizing what he’d done. “Remus, I’m so sorry… What I said before… you didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve any of this… any of how we’ve treated you.” He squeezed Remus’ arm. “We-... I am so sorry.” He then turned his head aside, hanging low. “This is probably my fault…”

Remus scrubbed his eyes roughly. “But whatever, right? It doesn't matter. I don't care. I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. With all those goody-good traits sent to Roman, I'm fucking free. I can do whatever the hell I want to, and you losers can't stop me anymore.” His voice cracked as much as he tried to stop it.

A strike of pain crossed Logan’s face. “R-Remus, I never meant to hurt you…” He took Remus’ hand in his own. “I never meant for you to feel this way.” Logan sighed. “I know you may think you’re ‘free’ now, but isn’t it better to be tied to friends than be free and lonely?” Asked the scholar.

Remus took a deep breath, struggling with the urge to flinch, to rip his hand away. “How…” He closed his eyes. “How the hell would I know, Logan? I don’t…” He swallowed hard before speaking again. “I don’t remember what it was like ...before. Before me. And me? I’ve never had friends. So...how would I know the difference?”

Logan blinked, then he lifted his eyebrow. “What about Deceit? I thought he was your friend?” He then shook his head “But that’s not what I’m trying to say. Remus, I care about you.” His voice cracked as he squeezed Remus’ hand tighter, not letting him slip away. “I just don’t want you to be alone.”

Remus scoffed. “Deceit's a lot of things. A confidant. A co-conspirator. A companion. But he's... not a friend.” He squeezed Logan’s hand back, his knuckles turning white. “Please... please don't, Lo. I... I can't. I can't hope. It hurts too much. I've lost so much already, I'm not strong enough to lose anything else.”

Logan gritted his teeth then threw himself onto Remus with a tight embrace, hugging him close. “YOU'RE NOT LOSING ANYTHING, REMUS. YOU'RE GAINING. I PROMISE.” He let out a small breath. “I'll always be here for you…”

Remus shuddered, then crumpled bonelessly into the embrace, clinging to Logan like an octopus. He buried his face in Logan's shoulder, shaking as he cried. “You can't... you can't promise that. The Others... they wouldn't approve. You said.”

Logan leaned his head atop Remus', rubbing his back comfortingly. “I don't give a damn what the others think anymore. If they don't approve, then I'll make them understand.” He held Remus tighter. “You won't be alone. I won't let you be alone. I do promise you that.”

Remus continued to cry, pressing his face into the crook of Logan’s neck. “But Thomas…” He hiccupped from his sobs. “Even if the Others don't... if Thomas... it won't work. It can't work.”

Logan sighed. “Yes, it can. I'm positive it can. We just all need to work together to figure this all out.” He comforted Remus, hushing him softly. “Look, Remus. When I tell you that I will do anything to make you feel happy, I am not leading you falsely. I...I just want...to see you...smiling.” A small grin crept onto his face. “I love your smile…”

Remus sniffled, looking up. “If you're lying... I'll slit my own throat.” He whispered. He thought about it for a moment, the kiss of metal as it slides across his throat, the blood achingly warm as it spills out, and smiled at the mental image, grin sharp as a blade. “It may not kill me for long, but I'll do it.” He gently touched his own throat, where faint scars were visible. “I've done it before, after all…”

Logan’s eyes went wide. “What?! Why would you ever do such a thing, Remus?” He cried out, concerned. “And why do you seem so content about doing it?!”

Remus blinked as his smile faded. “Why? I... I don't… It's not... it's just object impermanence. Like you said. It doesn't matter what I do. It all goes away eventually.” He said simply.

Logan shook his head. “But...why would you do it?”

Remus shrugged with a sigh. “I just... I just wanted to see. The first time. I thought... maybe it would be better. If I could take myself out of the equation. But, it didn't work, not for long. I came back.” He rubbed the back of his head. “After that... well. you're the scientist. You should know. Any hypothesis demands repeated trials to confirm that the data is sound. And I figured... why not keep trying? Maybe eventually it'd stick. Whatever oblivion is like, it couldn't be worse than this.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “Couldn't be worse than this?! Remus, I CARE ABOUT YOU!! Ple-” His voice cracked. “Please! Why can't you see that?”

Remus flinched. “...That's what I've been trying to tell you. This is why it won't work. I'm wrong. I'm not the kind of broken that you can fix. You can't mend a shattered mirror just by caring about it, and you're only going to cut yourself trying. The things that I do, the things that I like... they're illogical. There's no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do.” He sighed. “And what I do is wreak havoc. You should stay away from me, for your own good.

Logan stood his ground, his eyes serious. “NO.”

“Logan, please…”

Logan’s voice was strong, meeting Remus' eyes as tears formed in his own. “No, Remus. I AM NOT STAYING AWAY FROM YOU. I DON'T CARE IF YOU THINK YOU CAN’T BE MENDED. I KNOW YOU CAN BE!!!” His shoulders began to shake as he leaned his head on Remus'. “Please… I love you…”

Remus' eyes went wide. "But...all that you've been saying...you kept telling me not to flirt with you-"

"Because I thought it was too good to be true!" Logan exclaimed, shaking his head. "I...I thought I wouldn't ever be lucky enough to have someone actually flirt with me. But you did. And I just didn't know what to do." He admitted, and the Duke sighed with understanding.

Remus held Logan, cradling him, stroking his hair. Gently, he murmured, “I’m not a project or one of your experiments. You might…” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “You might love me now, but it’s better to nip this in the bud. You have such high expectations of me, and I'm just going to disappoint you. You'll get frustrated, and your feelings will sour... it's better this way. Better to stop while we still can, to shut it down before the Others find out.”

Logan finally let his emotions fully break down the wall he had put up. Pushing his face into Remus' neck, tears and sobs wracked his body. “N-No...I know y-you're not an experiment, R-Remus, b-but I just w-want to have you with me... d-damn the others... I love you!”

He grasped the cloth of Remus' shirt. “Why do you think I've always stood up for you? Or been the one to acknowledge what you're saying as NOT hurtful! I know it may seem like I haven't been fond of you in the past, but I LOVE YOU, Remus! Nothing will change that!”

He tilted his head up, his eyes wide behind his smudged glasses, and his expression made him seem like a wounded puppy or a lost child. “Remus, please…” He sniffed back his tears, feeling more vulnerable than ever in his life. "What I said was true! I'd never imagined that I'd be blessed to find someone I liked, and then of all the things that could happen, I get flirted on by the one man I'm completely smitten with!!! How am I supposed to react to that? All I'm able to do is just blurt out 'I love you' again and again because that is the only thought my mind is processing right now. That I love you."

Remus opened his mouth, his lip quivering. “I…” His voice began to break. “I love you too, Lo.” He hugged him hard, holding him tight against the shaking. “I love you so damn much. I've loved you as long as I can remember.” He rubbed the back of Logan’s head gently. “I've always been yours.” He closed his eyes. “That's why... that's why I kept teasing you, kept taunting you. I was desperate for any scrap of attention you'd toss my way.”

Logan chuckled softly. “You did all that, and all this time I thought it was just false flirting. I thought it was wishful thinking…” He looked up at Remus, a smile growing on his face. “Will you...will you stay? With me? We could be together.” A hint of hope crossed his voice as he leaned his head on Remus' shoulder. “We could be together…” The whispered echo resonated between the two.

Remus was weak, and his thoughts were running a marathon. He was weak, and he was selfish, and he was impulsive, and he couldn't keep resisting that when he was holding everything he'd ever wanted in his arms. He still thought it was going to end badly, but for the first time, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. He had nothing left to lose, and everything to win. And besides, even if it did end badly, at least he'd have it while it lasted. “Okay. Yeah, Lo, I'll stay. I'll stay with you as long as you'll have me, and they'll have to break every one of my fingers to tear me away.”

Logan's smile could have blinded anyone else with its brightness, so caring and happy. Petting Remus' hair, he met his eyes with happy tears. “I'll be here for you the whole way, and they'd have to pry me away with the strongest bar to take me away from you.” His smile grew. “I love you.”

Hooking his arms around Remus' neck, he pulled him close, smiling as he finally had everything he wanted. The man who he had secretly loved for years was in his arms, in a kiss, and there was nothing that could possibly make Logan happier.

Offhandedly, Remus wondered if he was dead, if one of his suicide attempts had finally worked - because surely this was heaven. Logan was warm in his arms, his mouth soft and sweet, and Remus drank in Logan's affection like a sponge, gorging himself on it. “You're such a dork,” he murmured between kisses, “and I love you so fucking much.”

Logan smirked as he ran his fingers through Remus' hair as their lips connected again and again. “I think this officially makes us boyfriends, Rem.” He closed his eyes as his mouth was filled with a taste that was uniquely Remus, loving the longed-for affection. “I love you too, my own mischievous troublemaker. I wouldn’t ask for you any other way.”

[fuzzyhumandiplomatdeputy]

5 techniques simples de maison de couleur blanche

Suppose que toi avez soudainement surs doutes, quelle fin a legard de couleur choisir pres seul eleve surface a legard de cette facade En ces fleurs plausibleees, toi devriez choisir Celle-la qui deviendra la moins brillante.The Landlady is great person. I slept Nous night to be Fermee to the assessment center cognition a Besogne interview I had. I had booked a taxi cognition the morning that never appeared and the landlady gave me a sillon to the assessment center.The Landlady is great person. I slept one night to Sinon close to the assessment center for a Tache entretien I had. I had booked a taxi for the morning that never appeared and the landlady gave me a ride to the assessment center.Celui-ci serait bien dommage avec falloir total repeindre Suppose que la couleur qui vous-meme avez choisie nest enjambee autorisee.And finally, a review After their Tournee, guests tell usages about their stay. We check cognition naughty words and verify the authenticity of all guest reviews before adding them to our situation.ca selection depend du conformation dont vous preferez ensuite Icelui ncomme a marche de meilleur assortiment au degre assures record.Choisir son habitation sans cela visiter Patrizio Fortino emmenagera en septembre dans un demeure lequelil na jamais visite, dans un immeuble ou Celui na jamais affuble ces pieds.Only a customer who eh booked through Booking.com and stayed at the property in Enigme can write a review. This lets traditions know that our reviews come from real guests, like you.TripAdvisor LLC is not responsible conscience satisfait on external web condition. Taxes, fees not included conscience deals heureux.She oh a full wine cave downstairs that you can buy from at good prices and enjoy nous-memes your own. Nadine also had dejeuner terme conseille intuition regles each morning at the time we requested. If and when we rentree to Beaune, we will stay at Maison Blanche, and would recommend to any of our friends or family.egayer sur les variantes en meme temps que laiteux donne en meme temps que la etre a la piecelui, seul ethercouleur zenalors lorsque cette teinte levant ponctuee dautres couleurs dans le incline avec lameublement, dbizarre mur, certains rideaux ou bien coussins, lcomposition devient magnifique.De rust Chez a legard de omgeving Tamis avec locatie davantage avec aardige eigenaresse die gelukkig voor mij ook Engels spreektPersonnalite'ai fait etablir un immatriculation a pellets dans une colonne en plaquo celle celui se detache du muret du Foire lequel Personnalite voudrai peindre couleur lin ou ficelle ou bien myope tres clair Ego voudrai toutefois demarquer ma colonne ou orient loge mien emboitement pellets quelle couleur pourriez toi-meme me diriger merci pres votre reponseIcelui existe bizarre science dite glosso-bilan qui diagnostique certaines affections ou inclination a travers lcorrection en compagnie de la dialecte. https://shp-constructions.com/entreprise-plomberie-marseille/

[athena1138]

(I'm a writer, I promise.)

Me: "Your progress was impeded by source material which was heavily de..."

Me: ...

Me: degre....

Me: degre...gaded?

Me: Hm. No. That's not a word.

Me: degre..

Me: Oh, degregaded.

Me: ...no you just wrote that you idiot

Me: *stares at the page for 5 solid minutes*

Me: .........OH. DEGRADED. Pfft.

Me: ....fucking hell. 23 years old and I can't even spell degraded.

[pleiades974]

Oh la la, math...

Math always made me feel completely dumb, yet I am convinced that if they had been me taught another way, I would have loved them and could have been a great scientist even!!!

From my first class to my bachelor degre, I can remember only one year when I was NOT crying!!! Oh yes, that year, my teacher was so kind and patient and pedagogic that I felt I understood everything!!! Alas, never before and never after it happened again :-(

C'etait mon annee de 5e, French education system, I was about 13 I think. I don't know which grade it would be in the US.

Curious to see the results of your study @iamnotaware :-)

ok wait, reblog if you’ve cried at least once because of math, doesn’t matter which grade i’m trying to prove something