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chenziee · 2 months ago

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To Love a Geisha

Written for the adorable @opfluffzine!! It's a free digital zine that you can download right here ☁️

ALSO check out the amazing spot art by @beasttrash!! It's so so cute 🤖🌸

[ READ ON AO3 | KO-FI | COMM INFO ]

—————

“Hey, Franosuke, are you married?”

The question didn’t take Franosuke, a carpenter in the Flower Capital of Wano, completely by surprise. After all, a few of his coworkers had just spent the better half of their break complaining about their home lives—how their wives were on their asses about drinking and spending time with geishas instead of helping take care of the kids. Which was entirely in their right to do, in Franosuke’s opinion; a man should take responsibility and help his family, be it wife, kids, siblings, or parents!

But voicing those thoughts would go against his ‘role’, wouldn’t it?

And so, Franosuke simply laughed, shaking his head. “No way, man! I’m free as a super bird!”

“Good for you!” one of the men said, slapping Franosuke’s shoulder.

“Oh, but,” another one noted with a knowing smirk, “I hear you’ve got quite the favourite in old Tsugaru Umi’s teahouse.”

A small choir of ohh immediately followed as all his coworkers turned to look at Franosuke with wide, almost evil grins on their faces. A second later, a barrage of questions followed.

“It’s O-Some, isn’t it?!”

“I bet it’s Kisegawa!”

“The Oiran’s procession is going to be next month, I bet you switch your favourite then! Always happens.”

Honestly, Franosuke had no idea who or what they were talking about… but a happy smile still pulled on his lips as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Because, while his coworkers speculated wildly about who his favourite geisha might or might not be, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

Wandering to the silky black hair, two-coloured blue eyes, and mind so sharp it could destroy a man in a second.

Shaking his head, Franky laughed loudly as he brought himself to the reality where he was surrounded by a bunch of dudes with the smell of wood and sweat in the air. “You’re making me feel super weird now, guys! She’s a super lady. I’m not going to replace her because some pin-up girl walks by!”

His coworkers exchanged a confused glance. “What’s ‘pin-up girl’?”

Oh.

Shit, he shouldn’t have said that.

“A beautiful, sexy woman?” Franosuke tried, wrecking his brain for an excuse. “It’s… a dialect.”

Several doubtful looks and murmurs of, “where is he from again?” were his only response and he felt sweat building on his back, his shirt sticking to his skin uncomfortably. What could he say? How did he change the topic without it sounding forced?

What a super dumb slip of the tongue that was…

“Hey, assholes!! Stop slacking or I’m gonna fire you!”

All the men on the construction site jumped at the angry shout, everyone immediately rushing to pick up their saws and hammers and get to work. Meanwhile… Franosuke was never more grateful for Master Minatomo and his awful personality.

—————

Walking down the familiar streets of the Flower Capital, Franosuke marvelled at how easy finding his way was now. After all, it had only been a few weeks since he had arrived here and at first, the roads felt incredibly confusing. Them all being named 1st Street and 2nd Street and 36th Street wasn’t helping either because… 36th from what?

It made no sense to him. The city he grew up in was huge too but Water 7 had never felt as hard to navigate as this.

Now, though, he could walk these streets blindfolded—at least the parts of the city he knew. Actually… how many times had he walked this route? Even his coworkers had started to notice he visited the place often… Some might even say too often; they might say he was pathetic, hopeless, throwing away money for no reason, for a fake dream.

But it wasn’t fake, a dream, or hopeless to him.

Instead, the sight of the teahouse attached to a certain okiya made him feel happy. Excited.

“Sir Franosuke, we’ve been expecting you.” The teahouse worker bowed deeply in greeting before leading him to his reserved room and bowing again.

Franosuke wondered whether this treatment would ever stop freaking him out; it was like he was a nobility whenever he walked in here, it was super weird. But, he supposed that was what went with exclusive patronage—honestly, it was a miracle he was even allowed in here. Not many were, certainly not people who appeared suddenly out of nowhere with no background and no connections.

Yet another reason to suffer old Minatomo and his tantrums; if it weren’t for his patronage of this place, his recommendation, and friendship with the owner, there was no way for Franosuke to even get a glimpse of the garden, never mind getting to walk through the doors to this small, private room.

Well, no reason to dwell on that. He was here and that was all that mattered!

The moment he sat down at the tiny, low table, the door slid open quietly once more. And when he glanced towards it… a wide smile pulled on his lips.

Kneeling on the ground just outside the room was a geisha, her head slightly bowed, eyes turned modestly to the ground. She waited a few seconds before she rose to her feet, entered the room and kneeled again to close the door behind herself, then turned to face Franosuke directly for the first time.

“Welcome… my Lord,” she said in a sweet voice before her eyes turned to the side once more. This time, however, it was in a more of a coy way than anything.

The sight nearly made Franosuke start laughing.

“Seeing you act like this, I feel like you’re about to assassinate me every time, Miss O-Robi.”

Now, it was O-Robi’s turn to quickly cover her mouth with her kimono sleeve to hide her chuckle. “I think Luffy wouldn’t be very happy if he came here with Sanji only to find out his shipwright was now in pieces, being sold for metal scrap.”

Franosuke frowned, crossing his large metal arms over his chest. “Hey! Are you doubting my abilities? I’m not so easy to just take apart and sell, lady!” He paused, then added, “You would make a lot of money with me though.”

This time, O-Robi couldn’t hold her quiet giggle back. She didn’t bother hiding it either as she finally joined Franosuke at his table. “I’ll make sure to sell you to the underground. I know people would pay hundreds of millions of beri for that laser beam of yours, Franky,” she said, her voice light with amusement.

“You’d better,” Franky huffed, nodding to himself. “Those people’d appreciate my super armoured body at least!”

Shaking her head with an easy smile still playing on her lips, Robin grabbed the sake bottle off the table, pouring Franky a cup with practised ease. Up until now, Franky had never realised how elegant such a simple action could be; it was like watching art in motion. Robin’s graceful hands were holding the bottle gently, the sake trickling into the cup with precision, not a single drop wasted. She was leaning forward slightly, the collar of her kimono falling low in the back, exposing and accentuating her long, delicate neck.

Franky jumped when someone tapped his shoulder right then, breaking him out of his reverie—when he turned to look who it was, however, only a detached hand growing out of his own arm greeted him, before it scattered into flower petals.

“Staring is rude, you know,” Robin said, shooting Franky a teasing look.

The man huffed out a laugh as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Robin’s cheek, careful of her make-up. “Sorry, Robin. Just admiring how beautiful my super geisha is.”

“A geisha mustn’t be touched, my Lord,” Robin said sternly, but the corners of her mouth twitched, her eyes dancing.

“Kick me out, then.” Franky grinned and, without missing a beat, kissed her again.

Robin laughed. “You’re impossible.”

Finally, Franky grabbed the sake bottle from her, pouring her own cup for her. With a small thank you, Robin raised her cup to her lips, taking a sip—and then, as if completely letting go of her ‘role’, she leaned into Franky’s side, sighing contently.

For but a second, Franky froze.

But then, something warm spilled inside of his chest and he raised his arm, pulling her closer to him. He almost forgot how it felt having Robin next to him, how comforting and exciting feeling her body heat seep into his skin—numb and hard with metal right underneath—was. The archeologist was so small next to him. Small and beautiful and oh-so deadly.

Franky knew that if she wanted to, she would be able to kill him in seconds. But she didn’t—wouldn’t. Not anymore. And Franky loved knowing that, loved that she chose every day to be here, with the crew. With him. She had gone through so much pain, but she was willing to open herself up and trust them even so.

He would make super damn sure she never regretted that decision.

Letting his smaller, human-sized hand out of his regular hand, Franky reached out, touching Robin’s cheek softly, making her tilt her head back to look at him. Robin hummed questioningly, but Franky only sighed. “I really wanna kiss you.”

“You did already.”

Franky clicked his tongue. “You know what I mean, Robin.”

“You’ll mess up my make-up,” Robin noted.

“And your teacher will yell at you, I know.”

With a sigh, Franky retreated his hand; he really didn’t want a repeat of the first time he came here… Robin wasn’t allowed to leave the okiya for days after that, apparently something about proper geisha manners and perceived perfection and innocence. He didn’t really get it but he sure didn’t need a detailed explanation. Definitely not from the tiny old hag. She looked like she would go on forever given the chance.

Quickly covering her mouth with her kimono sleeve, Robin chuckled at Franky’s disappointment.

But then, Franky blinked when one of Robin’s hands came to rest against his shoulder, another on his chest as she rose to her knees with a soft smile on her lips—and a playful twinkle in her eyes. A third and a fourth hand cupped Franky’s face, gently guiding him forward—and a second later, their lips met, moulding together easily as they kissed properly for the first time in weeks.

Franky grinned into the kiss; the smell of the powder on Robin’s skin mixing with her perfume was tickling his nose, her lips soft against his own. The feeling made his heart race as if this was their first time.

It would probably always feel that way to him. With Robin, every day was like their first—especially now. After not seeing her for two whole years, it was as if he couldn’t get enough of her presence, her voice, her touch, her brilliance.

She was just as beautiful, just as smart, just as perfect as she was when they first met. The only difference was that she was much more herself.

And Franky couldn’t help but love every last bit off her.

When his coworker asked if he was married earlier, Franky wasn’t being entirely honest. But… it wasn’t like he was completely lying either. He did have a wife but they were pirates, after all, and pirate weddings weren’t exactly official. Moreover, they were officiated by the captain. And their captain being Luffy… The whole thing pretty much consisted of Luffy saying ‘Marry you? Yeah, why not. Done.’ and then immediately asking if there was a wedding cake.

Franky hesitated calling that a wedding. More like a super speed run of one. But—

It was enough for them.

Whether they were an assassin and a dismantler, an archeologist and a shipwright, or a geisha and a carpenter, Franky knew Robin would always be right there, by his side.

And Franky would always be grateful for it, ready to love her exactly the way she was in return.

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hamsterclaw · 2 years ago

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I want to say that ‘The Vows’ couple are my favourite. I keep reading it again and again. There is nothing better than this. I love them so much. Whenever I see any part of it on my dashboard I read it again along with some other parts. I just love it so much. The reader’s character of being bratty, misunderstood, and not evil is so perfectly balanced. And Yoongi accepts her not just tolerates her, this is my fav part of this fic. He is so much in love with her. And even though she makes him really mad he still loves her the same.

OH MY!!! 😭Thank you so much, this analysis is spot on and exactly why I love writing them and I am so so happy that you're enjoying them.

Here’s another little drabble for you because Min Yoongi has been wrecking me today.

Pairing: Vows! Yoongi x reader

Warnings: Sex, swearing, Seokjin

By now, you're pretty good at recognising when your husband is genuinely angry. He's often difficult to read, but you've been making an effort lately, and you're starting to recognise his tells.

When his mouth is in a straight line and his brow's slightly furrowed, he's bemused. It's the expression he had when you hid all his left shoes.

When his brows are drawn together and his mouth opens slightly, he's irritated. He gets like this sometimes when you and Seokjin are arguing.

When his expression goes completely blank, you look at his hands. When his hands are like they are now, loosely clenched, and he looks at you with heat in his gaze, he's angry. It doesn't happen often, but you're quite sure, that on this occasion, Yoongi is angry.

Scratch that. He looks pretty fucking mad.

You think frantically about all the things you've done lately, trying to remember if you've done anything especially provoking.

He’s looking straight at you across the room, and you can feel his eyes burning into you.

What have you done this time?

Your husband's still staring at you, and if he didn't look so damn irresistible in the sharp black suit he's wearing, you'd already be running.

His gaze flicks down over your body, blatantly looking you over in a way that's unusual for him.

Ahhhh fuck.

You stole his suit.

The last time Yoongi and you had to attend a public event together, you went all out. You'd picked up a vintage gown, had it altered to fit you like a second skin, had spent hours being primped and preened just so you could turn up on his arm looking like the most perfect version of you money could buy.

Yoongi had barely blinked. In fact, he'd grumbled something about you making him late to the event.

And so today, when you'd walked past the suit laid out for him in his wardrobe area on the way to the shower, an idea of immense brilliance had flashed into your mind.

You'd reached out, plucked the hanger off the rack, and marched to your room with it clutched in your hand.

You'd sent him some excuse about working late and had told him you'd meet him at the hotel, and then you'd put on his suit.

Crisp white shirt, a jacket with a subtle pinstripe, and a black tie that you'd had to ask Mrs Gye to help you tie. You'd forgone the suit trousers entirely, and the jacket on you is long enough to cover your ass.

Just about.

The piece de resistance though? The platinum collar bar connecting both ends of the collar, tucked under your tie.

You're not entirely sure how you're going to get it off without help, especially since the look on Yoongi's face makes it seem like he's unlikely to want to help you right now.

You like the suit he has on though, now that you can see it more clearly. It's almost identical to the one you have on.

Trust your husband to have a backup suit on standby.

He even has a collar bar like yours, and damn he looks so sexy you want to jump his bones.

Belatedly, you realise the reason you can see all the detail on his suit is that he's much closer than he was when you last checked.

Shit. He's heading straight towards you, face like thunder.

You squeak and back away, straight into the hard chest of Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin sighs wearily.

'At least tell me what panties you're wearing so I have something to jerk off to later,' he says.

'I'll give them to you if you help me get away,' you say quickly, seeing an opportunity.

'You're not going anywhere,' Yoongi says. His hand closes on your arm like a vice.

***

Yoongi’s driving, one hand curled loosely on the wheel, the other on the centre console of his car, close to your bare thigh.

‘Nice suit,’ he says, the first words he’s spoken to you since you left the event.

You smooth the wool over your thigh. ‘Thank you, it’s Valentino.’

Yoongi looks at you like he can’t quite believe your audacity.

‘It looks like the suit I was meant to wear tonight.’

‘Yeah?’ you ask, all innocence.

‘I didn’t know you could tie a tie that well, I should ask for your help next time.’

‘Mrs Gye helped,’ you offer nonchalantly.

‘Where are the pants?’ Yoongi asks. He glances in the rearview mirror, signals to turn.

‘They didn’t fit,’ you say, shrugging.

‘Because they were measured specifically for me,’ Yoongi points out.

You give him a sidelong look.

‘You don’t like me in womenswear or menswear it seems,’ you mutter.

Because you’re watching, you see Yoongi flick his eyes to you.

‘I like you in everything,’ he counters. There’s a pause before he says, ‘and nothing.’

He slows the car, and you look around curiously at the darkness around you.

Yoongi pulls to a complete stop.

‘Why did you steal my suit to wear tonight?’

You don’t have an answer, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to be waiting for one.

‘Is it because I don’t buy you enough beautiful clothes?’ he muses.

‘I buy my own clothes,’ you point out, defiant.

‘Is it because it wasn’t enough for you that I came so hard when you were wearing that ridiculous dress at the last event, I passed out?’

‘You liked that dress?’ you ask, inordinately pleased.

Yoongi glowers at you.

‘If you didn’t act like such a brat all the time, I’d compliment you more,’ he growls.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘You like it when I’m a brat, Yoongi.’

He doesn’t deny it. Instead he looks out the window.

‘How many times do I have to come inside you before you realise how stunning I think you are?’

He turns back to you.

‘Jagiya, I will always think you are beautiful.’

There’s no heat in his voice now, the words come out with a quiet simplicity that rings with honesty.

You’re still processing when he continues, ‘and I will always think you look irresistible in my clothes.’

‘Are you angry with me?’

‘For stealing my suit and leaving me to have a replacement delivered at short notice?’

You turn to him.

‘I’m not angry,’ he tells you. ‘But if I were, how would you make it up to me?’

You bite your lip, then slide your seat back.

‘May I kiss you, Yoongi?’

He’s staring at your lips. ‘Yes.’

You slip your hand down his chest, past his belt buckle, down to his lap.

‘Here?’ you ask, hand over his lap.

‘Fuck, jagiya, please,’ he breathes.

You lean over and undo his pants, slide his half-erect dick out.

Yoongi reaches out, wraps a hand around your (his) tie, loosely.

‘Hey,’ he says, just as your lips touch his cock.

‘Mmm?’

‘Tap me if I’m holding too tight, ok?’

He waits until you nod before he leans back in his seat. His perfectly coiffed hair flicks forward as the back of his head meets the headrest, and his thighs spread as you lick along his cock.

He’s quiet as you suck him to full erection, the only clues you have that he’s enjoying it are the erraticness of his breathing and the way he’s twitching over your tongue.

‘Fuck,’ he groans, fist tightening in your tie, tugging you down.

It’s making the tie tighten around your neck, but you like how it feels.

‘Fu— uh—- uk,’ he groans again, stuttering as you hollow your cheeks and take him all in, the head of his cock nudging the back of your throat.

You swallow, and he slams a hand against the car window.

You reach under, cup his balls, and his hips jerk against your face.

He’s holding you so tight, filling your mouth with his cock so well you can barely breathe.

‘Gonna cum,’ he warns, ‘fuck, I’m gonna —-‘

He doesn’t finish his sentence, moaning long and deep as he shoots his release down your throat.

The tie tightens again, and then he lets go.

‘Jagi, are you ok?’

He’s tipping your chin up to see your face, and the concern in his expression makes you feel warm.

‘I’m ok, oppa.’

He pulls you up to kiss him.

‘Don’t ‘oppa’ me, brat.’

He’s undoing your tie deftly, unthreading the collar bar so he can unbutton your shirt.

‘Let me see,’ he grunts, unbuttoning your shirt rapidly, pulling the plackets apart to expose your lack of bra, the thin, sheer panties you slipped on.

He presses his thumb over your wetness, places his other hand over your exposed front.

‘What do you want, my love?’ he asks. He slides two fingers under your panties, tugs. ‘Want me to kiss you here?’

His knuckles nudge against your core, and he groans. ‘You’re wet, you like sucking my cock, don’t you, jagiya?’

His fingers slip inside you, stretching, scissoring, his movements fast and insistent.

‘Yoongi,’ you cry, and he laughs, thumb rocking back and forth over your clit, making you buck against his hand.

'You're so easy to please, my love,' he taunts.

A lock of hair's fallen over his forehead now, and he looks so good you could cry.

Yoongi cups your breast, squeezes. 'Your little pussy's so fucking tight, I can barely move my hand,' he tells you. 'Gonna come for me?'

You cry his name as your pleasure crests and you press your face into his neck.

Yoongi leaves his fingers inside you but wraps his other arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

The cool metal of his collar bar digs into your cheek.

'I'm gonna help you get re-dressed, ok, baby?' he says, voice low, rumbling in his chest.

'Then I'm going to take you home and we're going to do this again.'

#vows au #yoongi smut #yoongi fic

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yuri-is-online · 5 months ago

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fgo anon adventure continues

>not to summarise a whole part in one sentence but Moriarty bullying was everything I didn't know I needed. Nevermind waifu wars, I need a cringe old man tournament

>after reading more of your they/them fanfiction, I do think you specifically have the right to go off on this game

>finally unlocked Wu's true name, bonds etc. I surprisingly liked her entrance

>I actually liked her introduction. I would be okay with there being lore reasons why she looks like a kid (and I am being vastly generous when I say lore reasons) but I would still pick a fight with whoever made that ascention design. I would put them in the pot.

>I don't know if you'd know this but she has a rank up quest that does go into more detail of how despite having her full life memories, this is the young version of Wu who first entered the palace. She gets nightmares about the nasty stuff other women used to say about her. It was pretty sad.

>Im glad Columbo is the evil disgusting bastard he deserves to be

>There's just something kinda "this was written by a man" about agartha's section that I can't really be bothered to disect. you know you know

> if it was me 1. Columbo would not have gotten Heracles ["Can we blow up Astolfo instead?" (I don't even hate them or anything)] 2. I guessed it was Caster pretty fast actually. I don't know if I could have afforded to call her out early

> Fergus(old): *opens his mouth* me:I hate this game *keeps playing it*

When Will I Finally Have My Last Drop With This Game? Stay Tuned.

sidenote:

Me: *innocently logs in to do some limited quest* WAS THAT FREAKING MERLIN IN A BLACK SHIRT? HUH? WHAT?

I genuinely thought I hallucinated him cause he literally only shows up for a second, buffs the monsters, dips out (this is very on brand)

Looked it up, found the Camelot & co illustrations, forgot how to breathe for a minute.

I hope you are doing well!

I am doing ok all things considered.

Agartha is the most hated chapter next to Septum. They were written by the same person if I remember correctly? It's very much specifically a him problem, he's quite bad at writing.

I like Astolfo, but I watched Apocrypha so a lot of it comes from there. I also agree that it was nice to see fate lean into him being an actual villain! Wish it had happened in a better chapter!

When it comes to Wu... I don't really know how I feel about her tbh. When it comes to lolis in Fate... there is no innocent explanation I am willing to give them because I know Prisma Illya exists. And because of something related to Abigail Williams I won't get into yet because I don't know if you have done Salem or not. No amount of interesting takes on a character excuses sexualizing a child, it's honestly my biggest ick with the series as a whole.

Back to Agartha for a second... fgo does this thing where it will introduce a female historical figure who is known for having been sexualized and degraded and it will make her character design hyper sexual, and they do this constantly. There are a lot of arguments about this, some say it's about reclaiming a woman's power and agency but I don't really find myself able to accept that. It sort of rings hollow when you are a gacha game that makes money off of making sexy women. It's kind of like a makeup company advertising women's empowerment as a key part of their brand identity. Sure, your founders and employees might really believe that, but you are pushing skincare products towards a younger and younger age demographic because it makes you money.

I don't know if you are familiar with NeiR at all, but the weird guy who makes it has been pretty open about the fact that he made 2b look like that because he thought it would be sexy. I have 0 problems with that, what I don't like is when a game or franchise makes money off of sexy women and then bends over backwards to justify why they do that. But then again, bending over backwards to justify things is sort of Fate does at all times anyway so maybe I'm just over thinking things. It is nice to have a chance to talk about these things and still be allowed to like the series! The fight scenes in fate are peak as are some of the concepts they come up with, I just don't always enjoy it when they start pandering because well. It's not like they're pandering to me now are they?

#<3 asks #fgo anon

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the-fiction-witch · 2 years ago

Text

Mr Sangster

Media IRL

Character Thomas brodie Sangster

Couple Thomas X Reader

Rating Sexy

Concept My Daughters Teacher

I stood over the oven doing my best to make sure dinner would be ready on time without burning it or undercooking it. I heard the front door open and quickly close the sound of things rolling around in her backpack

"Hello Sweetie" I smiled

"Hi mama" she smiled putting her pack on the table

"did you have a nice day at school?"

"fine, this is for you," she says handing over a bit of paper

"Oh? what's this?" I asked having a look at the paperwork

"it's a form for the parent's evening next week"

"ahh I see. I would like a word with a few of your teachers. Good to keep up a repore with them as your a big year seven now'

I made sure both I and little Luna were as presentable as possible, mostly because I would get a million evil glares from the other parents. We hurried inside and she lead me along to all of her different teachers, many of which had a lot to say, all of which I got down in my notebook by now starting to lose a little steam walking around this place. How on earth do the kids do this everyday? I'm exhausted. Till we got to her last teacher of the night most of the corridors and rooms were empty now as most headed home. I waited with Luna in hand outside the classroom while she had her lollipop that her math teacher gave her until another mother emerged, her son in hand looking rather angry. I waited a moment or two before heading inside the well decorated classroom, quite a jump from the other rather ugly rooms I had seen so far.

"AHH Luna. There you are" he smiled at us immediately I was a little in shock, he was… handsome. Very handsome. Like surprisingly so for a teacher. He sat as his desk in little brown leather shoes, black suit pants that where uhh tight to his thin body, a dark grey almost black shirt rolled to his elbows the top buttons undone to reveal a good chain around his neck, a brown suit jacket over the chair behind him, paperwork perfectly organized on his desk along with a large coffee mug, he smiled sweetly even though he was clearly tried a well fixed mess of blonde hair that looked as if he had been fiddling with it all night. He smiled at Lina before he saw me quickly giving me a glance up and down and his smiled grew a little "hello" he smirked getting up from his chair "you must be Mrs y/l/n" he smiled offering his hand

"Ohhh uhhh miss y/l/n" I corrected, shaking his hand "Mr Sangster I pressure?'

"Ohh excuse me. I do apologize. And yes."

"It's alright" I blushed

"Do take a seat, I can imagine your in rush to get this one home" he says so I happily took a seat with Luna beside me "well where to begin with Luna, she's a very clever girl just wish she'd apply herself a little more" he smiled giving Luna a slight side eye making her giggle "she knows what I'm talking about" he explained "I was a little worried at the start of the year as we had a bit of trouble with her written projects but simply a matter of handwriting recognition once we swapped over to typing We've had no issues. I think it's just a case of her hands working a little too slow for her brain and thus she rushed and made It hard to read but other than that she's swimmingly not missing any assignments or any homework, she's always eager to read and to learn. I couldn't ask for a better student"

"Excellent that's very good to hear, thank you"

"No problem, miss y/l/n. You two get home I'll keep you post of anything changes"

"Thank you, lovely to meet you"

"Lovely to meet you too"

We headed out and into the car stopping for drive Thur on the way home.

I stood doing the dishes as I headed the school bus pull away from the road and soon enough the door opened and closed

"Hello mama" she smiled running in

"Hi sweetie how was school?"

"Okay,"

"Just okay today?"

"Just okay"

"Alright, we're having Dino nuggets for tea?"

"Ooohh!" She smiled excitedly "and I need to give you this" she says handing me an envelope

"Oh another school form to sign?" I asked

"No, this one's from Mr Sangster"

"Oh? Have you gotten in trouble?"

"No I promise"

"Alright, go on get started on your homework" I told her so she scurried off to the conservatory table to do her homework, I finished the washing up and set the dinner on before taking the envelope and having a read

"Dear miss y/l/n,

After seeing you at the latest after school function I find myself compelled to pen you a short letter. Luna is a very impressive girl, quick witted, smart and deadicated to her studies. I can only imagine where she must get it from. I would be thrilled to let you know of how Luna is doing as often as you'd like or of you'd like to know of any upcoming projects feel free anytime you'd like to send me a letter back. Thought Luna thought and not the school, they like to ask questions and preopen our post so this way we can… say whatever we like to each other.

X Mr Sangster"

I blushed hard reading such a note but I had to admit I had thought about it too.

"Dear Mr Sangster,

Thank you very much for your concern about Luna. It's well appreciated. I'm well aware of her smarts and skills she often says she wants to be just like me when she grows up of course I would be thrilled for you to keep me posted on all the lessons and in class activities you do with Luna so I can help and support you from home as well. And would be thrilled to send or Receive your letters at any time

X Miss y/l/n"

This went on for … well literal months sending at least one letter a week back and forth to each other using Luna as our interim we talked about everything and nothing all at the same time honestly I had more than a small crush on him and he had been rather vocal about his own on me honestly I often had to check to make sure the envelopes were still sealed as they often got… steamy. We had even managed to send presents back and forth even if we had to be very sneaky about it. Until today the last day of the year before summer break, it was only a half day today so I had to pick her up a but I didn't mind.

"So, you taking little Luna somewhere nice during the summer?" He asks as he came over chatting politely as to not give anything away to the sea of other parents here to collect their children and of course the children themselves, he loomed beside me close enough to be personal but far enough to not give us away in his red leather shoes, black suit pants and a red button down rolled to his elbows a sweet mahogany smell emanating from his neck and shirt the same one his letters often smelt of

"No, no big trips planned. She'll be helping me in the day to day. And we've agreed were going to do a book marathon over the summer together"

"That sounds very sweet" he cooed "I'd recommend doing hamlet near the end of August they do that in the first term give her an advantage"

"Thank you, I'll be sure to" I smiled

"How did you like your present?"

"Ohh I utterly adored it." He smiled "your the only parent who ever makes me cookies" he smiled "and they are delicious"

"I made them special"

"Your too good to me" he winked

"It'll be nice for you, have a nice long break?"

"Ohh no I'll be back to work in a week"

"You will? Doing what?"

"Pick up classes. All thought the summer, for the advanced kids who wanna get ahead of next year and the ones still catching up form this year' he explained "it's a bit of a pay cut and I don't get the summer off but I don't mind"

"That's sweet of you" I smiled "you won't be working all summer though will you?"

"Just Tuesdays and Thursdays"

"Well, maybe it could be handy for Luna"

"It could? She would do well in my tuesday class" he says "your meant to sign up in may, and there is technically a fee but… in sure I can make an exception and squeeze her in" he smirked his hand secretly moving from behind his back to behind me and giving my ass a pinch which immediately made me blush

"Hi sweetie" I smiled as Luna came to give me a cuddle

"Hi mama." She giggled

"You all ready?"

"I need to say by to Charlotte"

"Go say bye bye to Charlotte then" I laughed pushing her off to go see her friend "we'll see how it goes"

"Yeah we'll see. Well either way we don't have our little messenger. And I don't know if I'll get her next year"

"Yeah" I said rather sadly

"So." He smiled getting a bit of paper from his pocket I quickly took it not wanting to draw attention to us "use that from now on. And you'll probably be better putting me in as Thomas in your phone less suspicious" he says "unless you're into calling me Mr Sangster?"

"No, I'll use Thomas" I blushed "and when mine comes through best you use y/n"

"Y/n? Alright I will."

"I'm ready now mama" Luna smiled as she came back

"Alright, let's get going. Have a nice day Mr Sangster" I smiled

"You too miss y/l/n" he smiled before we headed off to the car.

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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 1 year ago

Text

Beautiful Creatures

Hello everyone! I had a new idea for a fanfic that I am actually excited about. I had been trying to write short things, so it doesn't consume my time and energy, but I started writing and imagining the plot in my head, and I am having a lot of fun.

The fanfic is based on the book Beautiful Creatures, the first book of The Caster Chronicle Series written by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl. And also it's film adaptation. But with Marauders Era Characters.

I posted the first chapter on Ao3, so give it a read, and if people like it or are interested I will keep writing and posting chapters every week.

Here is the summary:

Is falling in love the beginning... or the end? In Remus Lupin's boring hometown Hogsmeade lies the darkest of secrets... There is a beautiful boy. Gray eyes, long black hair, black rockstar clothes, chains and makeup. Sirius Black, is a boy who seems too out of place in Hosmeade. The same boy who had hunted Remus's dreams for a while now. There is a curse. On the seventeenth year, the darkness will take what it's been promised. Sirius has to prevent it. To save himself and his brother. In the end, there is a sacrifice to make. Sirius and Remus become bound together by a deep, powerful love. But Sirius is cursed and on his seventeenth birthday, his fate will be decided. Remus never even saw it coming.

And here is a little sneak peek:

Remus was tempted to look, so he followed everyone’s gaze. There in the middle of the courtyard was Albus Dumbledore. Their headmaster. Short bearded man, with white hair and blue eyes. There were very few people that Remus genuinely liked in this town. One of them was Professor Dumbledore. He was wise, fun, and open to new things. Something that the parents committee hated about him. Remus knew they were trying to make that old man retire for ages. Remus knew there was some mysteries about this town that he knew but didn’t tell.

Though students weren’t looking at him. They were looking at the boy next to him.

Remus’s first thought was that he was the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. The bloke was around sixteen perhaps. He had long black hair that reached his shoulders. Pale skin, smooth as cotton. He had breaded shoulders, muscular arms under his clothes. Aristocratic posture, almost like a prince. But he was not dressed like a prince.

He was wearing leather trousers so tight, that Remus feared with one move they would break. He had a punk rock shirt that many parents at Hogsmeade would call devilish, with men doing obscene gestures and the words “PUNK IS FUCKING SEXY”. Combat boots that could kill anyone and a leather jacket to match. Chains around his neck, piercings, black nail polish and a cigarette tucked behind his ear. Remus was reminded of a rock star he had seen in a movie once.

The foreign boy was wearing black shades, but Remus somehow could tell how his eyes were looking widely around.

That boy represented everything the respected Hogsmeade community hated. Remus was absolutely attracted to him.

So, this was Alphard’s nephew.

Remus was not the only one to be moved by this boy’s beauty. But he could tell a lot of girls were eating him with the eye. Though they would never admit that. The stranger was so different to what boys around Hogsmeade were.

The whispers amongst students died down when Dumbledore spoke.

“Good afternoon students” the headmaster said, not quite believing what he was about to say “This is a very uncommon event as we know, but we have a new student at Hogwarts” he eyed carefully at his companion “Please welcome Sirius Black”

There were gasps of horror at the mention of that name. Black. Like Alphard Black. The color of darkness. It sounded evil. What was most strange was the way that name had some sort of power. The clouds turned darker, and the wind became cold and hollow. The sun had been replaced with a dull cold sky. Remus saw many students scream and shiver at that sight. Remus was fascinated.

Sirius’s mouth gave them an evil twist when he saw everyone’s expression.

“So, you come from that creepy mansion where your mad Uncle lives” Nick Mulciber sounded almost afraid. It was hilarious.

Sirius turned his gaze towards him but didn’t say anything.

“Mum says Alphard Black worships the devil” It was Mary who spoke next, her voice shaking “Mum says he sold his soul to him so he can do witchcraft…”

“Miss. Macdonald, please!” Dumbledore warned.

But Sirius didn’t seem offended. He seemed amused.

“Look at the way he is dressed!” Frank Longbottom added “Maybe his Uncle taught him”

“Perhaps all Blacks are crazy” Samuel Avery added with a mocking voice.

“Wow, he is so handsome!” a female voice was heard amongst the younger students. And right after, her friends shushed her.

Sirius smiled with satisfaction. Remus presumed that boy was used to be the center of attention everywhere he went.

“That’s enough!” Dumbledore spoke over the students’ whispers “Sirius is our new student, and we are going to make him feel welcome. Is that clear?”

“My mum says that devil worshippers dance around naked in the moonlight” Alice said as if the headmaster hadn’t spoken “And they make human sacrifices”

“Oh well, darling. How did you know? That is indeed our favorite activity”

Everyone was shocked to hear Sirius finally speaking. Remus noticed his voice sounded ancient, like he was from another time. He used proper English, royal English, like the one The Queen used. His voice was a bit hoarse but with a harmonic tone to it. Like he could put anyone into a trance, or he could perfectly sing opera. It sounded like music to Remus’s ears.

Most of the students were already letting out horrified shrieks or murmuring prayers. Remus genuinely smiled. He was so happy to witness this precious moment. Sirius Black was incredible.

#marauders #maraudersera #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #james potter #peter pettigrew #beautiful creatures #beautiful creatures au #the caster chronicles #the caster saga #ao3

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queenshelby · 3 years ago

Text

The Singer – Part Four

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,483

Warning: Smut, Semi Public Sex

***The Interview***

It’s been three weeks since Kurt’s stunt and things between you and Cillian couldn’t have been better. Whilst you struggled with comments from the press and the public initially, calling you a home wrecker and making an issue out of the age gap between you, it brought you and Cillian closer together and he even defended your relationship in a recent interview.

Whilst you still hadn’t talked about what you were and where you were at, it was clear to you that you were officially dating. But no one really took you seriously. You were seen as Cillian’s midlife crisis.

Cillian cared very little about the press, ignoring the bad rumours and assuring you that none of this mattered.

He was right. It didn’t matter. People were still buying your new album which, under contract, was unfortunately being produced by Kurt. Under the same contract, you were also obliged to engage in interviews and promotional events.

Whilst you were very eager to simply break your contract, Cillian reasoned with you. He was sensible and you were impulsive.

He assured you that breaking the contract would simply mean more bad press and you engaged Cillian’s agent to help you with media engagements. He seemed to take a sensible approach and asked interviewers to not ask you any personal questions.

But this didn’t always work out, especially when you had an interview scheduled with a London based program whose interviewer just loved to get under your skin.

This interviewer managed to ask you about your alleged affair by referring to some lyrics of one of your songs.

‘Look, my private life is private and I will not discuss my relationship on this show. But what I can assure you is that there was no affair. We both had separated from our partners when we got involved with each other. The song you are referring to was written over a year ago and doesn’t reflect any of my personal experiences. It was written for a movie and just like the movie, it’s fictional’ you explained in response of the interviewer’s intrusive question.

‘There are many other songs you’ve written which come to mind indicating that you do in fact prefer to be with men who are older than you. These songs were all well received but your relationship is not. How do you feel about this?’ the interviewer than asked, not giving up.

‘Again, the songs are fictional, but my private life is not. That might be the issue. It’s all good if it’s fictional but as soon as it’s not, people get curious. Perhaps there is a lack of understanding surrounding relationships that aren’t the norm. Maybe people’s perceptions will change over time. I certainly hope so. After all, there are so many relationships in the history of the world where people have large age gaps and I believe that every adult has the right to date whoever they want without being criticised about it’ you explained before taking a short pause. ‘Anyway, I would prefer if we could chat about my music now rather than my private life. That’s why I am here’ you said bluntly.

The interviewer finally backed off after your request and your agent had already called in, putting the producers of the show into their place.

Cillian had also listened to the interview and texted you, making sure that you were alright and telling you that he thought that your response was well placed.

Kurt, on the other hand, was once again annoyed with you and sent you a rude text message shortly after the interview and he couldn’t help but try to get under your and Cillian’s skin.

***The Function***

Later that day, the studio was hosting a release party to celebrate your new album which Kurt had organised at the theatre complex function rooms.

It was a beautiful venue but you knew that Kurt would be attending which could end up being a complete nightmare.

This was also the first official event which you were attending together with Cillian and you raised the question whether this meant that you are his girlfriend now.

‘I suppose….I don’t know…do you want me to be your boyfriend?’ Cillian chuckled as he buttoned up his shirt.

‘I would love you to be my boyfriend’ you giggled before giving him a kiss and asking him to zip up your dress.

‘Well, I suppose I am officially off the market again then’ Cillian chuckled before returning the kiss, which was also when you heard the taxi pull up in front of his house.

Your agent has taken the liberty to invite several producers to the party, much to the dislike of Kurt. Kurt was even more irritated when you finally arrived, together with Cillian who was holding your hand.

‘Y/N…Cillian’ Kurt said greeting you both, wanting to shake Cillian’s hand but all he got in return was Cillian raising his eyebrow.

‘Kurt’ you responded with an almost evil grin on your face and just before Kurt leaned in and kissed you on the cheek.

You didn’t stay to talk to him and it wasn’t long until you were inundated by other producers, wanting to talk to you.

‘I told you, she can be a real slut’ Kurt said to Cillian as Cillian gave you some space to mingle, unbothered by the attention you were receiving by several of the producers your agent had invited.

‘And you wonder why she left you?’ Cillian chuckled, thinking that Kurt is an absolute douche.

‘You know she sucked my cock just before I signed her’ Kurt said with a smug face and it was obvious to Cillian that he had been taking some coke again.

‘Nice talk’ Cillian laughed before walking away, getting himself a drink and talking to some of the other artists.

After about thirty minutes you sought out Cillian who was standing next to the buffet talking to two female artists and you decided to give him the same space he had given you. Jealousy wasn’t your thing and you knew there was no need for it.

Eventually, however, you received a text message from him which said nothing but ‘HELP’, making you giggle. He obviously didn’t enjoy himself talking to these women and was being polite, hanging out with them and engaging into some small talk.

Just as you were going to get Cillian away, Kurt approached you.

‘Found a new producer yet?’ he asked and you responded with a quick ‘maybe’.

‘You won’t get the same sweet deal you had with me Love…’ Kurt went on to say, causing you to laugh.

‘You remember that night in the record studio together?’ he asked sheepishly.

‘Yes, I do. You lasted a total of ten minutes which was quite something Kurt’ you chuckled.

‘And I bet these were the best ten minutes of your life’ Kurt said just as Cillian approached you, listening into the conversation and taking in a deep breath.

‘Would you please give us a minute’ Cillian asked somewhat angrily.

‘I will…because my date is here’ Kurt said sheepishly.

‘What, did you hire an escort?’ Cillian asked, looking over to the woman Kurt pointed at.

‘She’s a model’ Kurt explained, not realising that Cillian was being sarcastic.

‘Of course she is’ Cillian chuckled before saying bye to him and this is when you broke out laughing.

‘He’s got the IQ of an ape’ Cillian huffed as Kurt walked away, shaking his head in disbelieve.

‘You are being so polite sweetheart’ you giggled.

‘I am sorry, but he just makes me fucking angry. You know what he said earlier?’ Cillian said but, before he could tell you, you crashed his lips onto yours.

‘Are you angry?’ you asked as your lips drifted apart.

‘At Kurt? Yes’ Cillian said.

‘Good. Come with me’ you winked as you pulled him away from the function.

Without questions, Cillian followed you upstairs where the offices of the producers were located.

‘I saw you talking to these women earlier…tell me about them’ you said as you led Cillian towards the back of the office area.

‘Sorry Y/N, I don’t know much about them, they just…’ Cillian said but, before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him with a passionate kiss in front of the door leading to Kurt’s office.

‘Don’t apologise, just tell me. I think there is nothing more sexy than seeing other women want what I have’ you smirked, your hand moving to his crotch.

‘Seriously?’ Cillian asked, causing you to nod and bite your lips suggestively.

‘Well, unlike you, I don’t like seeing other men want what is mine now, especially not this smug bastard’ Cillian said before pressing his lips back onto yours for an urgent kiss.

‘Please tell me this makes you angry’ you giggled as you pulled a white card out of your handbag.

‘Of course it makes me angry and, if I wouldn’t be so fucking complacent, I would punch him’ Cillian chuckled just as he watched you swipe the card through the black machine on Kurt’s office door before putting in the PIN on the security keyboard.

‘I’ve got a better idea’ you smirked as you pulled Cillian into Kurt’s office.

‘What are you doing?’ Cillian asked and all you did in response was looking over to Kurt’s study desk.

Cillian’s eyes lid up and, before you knew it, you felt your lower back pushed against the desk while Cillian lifted up your dress and pushed aside your panties.

‘You are so wet’ Cillian growled with excitement as, without warning, he pushed two of his fingers deep inside you, causing you to moan loudly. He was so aroused and rock hard, ready to take you, but he wanted to play with you first.

‘You do this to me Cillian’ you moaned, throwing your head back and taking in the sensation of his fingers deep inside your tight entrance.

Cillian continued to slide his fingers back and forth within your wet folds, hearing you moan and gasp at the sensation. He then slipped his middle finger inside you. You cried in pleasure. He loved pleasing you like this and started to thrust his fingers inside you faster and faster, watching your body pulsate with his movements.

He hit your g-spot over and over again and you knew what this meant. He was doing this on purpose, making sure to mark what is his and, in the process of it, possibly also mark the carpet in Kurt’s office if he kept going like this.

‘Oh god Cillian’ you cried, your eyes closed as he was manoeuvring his fingers tilted up to get the pleasure spot over and over again until your legs began to shake.

‘You like that?’ Cillian asked softly as he continued thrusting his finger into you and you barely managed to nod.

You fluttered your eyes open and looked at him as he confidently smiled at you. His unabashed confidence was turning you on even more. He knew that no one else ever made you cum like this.

As he continued to finger you, sending waves of pleasure over your body, you could feel yourself getting close to your orgasm and just as you were about to scream in pleasure, Cillian pushed his other hand over your mouth firmly as you came over his fingers, a wet puddle immediately forming on the office floor.

While your head was still spinning and without allowing you to come down from your high, Cillian spun you around and pushed you down against the cold oak table.

He certainly was angry and you loved every moment of it.

With one swift movement, he lifted up your dress again and pushed down your panties.

‘Spread your legs’ he instructed and you obliged, hearing his belt unbuckle and the zipper of his jeans opening.

‘That’s good’ he said as he was positioning his cock directly at your entrance, ready to push in.

Your heart started pounding with excitement and with one hard and powerful thrust and one loud groan Cillian buried himself deep inside you.

You shrieked at the sensation as he immediately and forcefully bottomed out inside of you. It took your breath away and he gave you no chance to adjust as he began to thrust in and out of you.

‘You are all mine’ Cillian moaned as he hit your cervix with the tip of his cock for what felt like the hundred’s time.

‘I am yours Cillian, oh god yes, fuck me hard’ you moaned.

Cillian grunted with each thrust, getting more aroused by the second as he was taking you over Kurt’s desk.

Each thrust was igniting a fire in you. It felt so good and you cried at the inexplicable pleasure consuming you, calling Cillian’s name multiple times.

Cillian was grabbing your thighs, prying them apart, and opening you up to him even more. He thrusted deeper and harder into you in this position.

You cried, your nails digging into the wood of Kurt’s desk while your pussy clapped against Cillian with each thrust.

‘I am coming Cillian, fuck’ you moaned and just, like that, another loud moan escaped you and your orgasm washed over you, your legs quivering and shaking as a result.

Cillian exhaled and groaned loudly, leaning in and filling you with his warm cum at the same time. You felt yourself fill up with his seed, exhaling at the sensation. He stayed inside you for a minute, then slowly pulled out. He watched his cum flow out of your opening ecstatically, running down your thighs.

You then turned around and grabbed one of the tissues from Kurt’s desk, wiping your legs clean before throwing the tissue into the bin.

His desk was covered with some of your sweat and juiced and Cillian looked at your flushed, glistening, beautiful face as you were still panting and kissed you softly on the lips.

‘Should we clean this up?’ Cillian chuckled as he closed up his belt.

‘Oh god no’ you smirked before collecting a good amount of Cillian’s cum that had pooled inside you and then licking your finger suggestively before pulling your panties back up.

‘Let’s get back to the party and say goodbye, shall we?’ you giggled.

Cillian followed you and the first person you chose to say goodbye to was Kurt, which surprised Cillian.

Giving Kurt a big kiss on his cheek, you wished him a pleasant evening and Cillian’s chin dropped immediately.

He couldn’t help it but laugh, shake Kurt’s hand, with the same hand that had pleasured you just minutes earlier, and wish him a pleasant night also.

‘You are so fucking bad, you know that?’ Cillian laughed later in the taxi on your way home.

‘He deserved it’ you giggled.

Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey janelongxox @uchihacumdump

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby @chocolatehalo

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine

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2jaeh · 4 years ago

Text

Body Paint | Wong Hendery

Genre: fluff, mature themes

Warnings: slight nudity, body painting ?, slight hair pulling, dirty talk

Words: 1,5k

AUTHOR SIN

Youre partnered up for a painting project with Hendery, when he has the the brilliant idea of painting each other...for the project Ofcourse.

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

You set a couple canvases onto the wooden floor of the studio you and Hendery had rented for your upcoming art project. It was for the varsity final exhibition and the task was to be completely experimental while perfectly collabing with your partner. Hendery, the quirky black haired boy you were partnered with walked into the room sipping on his ice coffee,

“Any ideas yet ?” He smiled sweetly as he set down his backpack and walked over to the tray of paint.

“Nah” you shook your head and sat crossed legged on the floor, “what about you ?”

Hendery joined you on the floor before pulling out his ipad and you scooted closer to him to take a look. Your eyes widened when his pinterest board was practically filled with body painting art pieces, ranging from a back piece to a completely full body canvas.

“B-body painting ?” you raised an eyebrow,

“Yeah, I think it's interesting and it will perfectly showcase a collab as well as create something different from everyone else” Hendery explained and sipped the last bit of his drink.

You wrinkled your nose at the screen, unsure of how this was going to work, how much body would you be painting exactly ?

“Problem ?” Hendery chuckled, leaning back on his elbows as he stared up at you,

“How much are we painting ?” you scratched your head nervously, eyes still locked on the majority of his moodboard being close to nudity.

“I think full body, front or back your choice” Hendery answered calmly, “I brought my tripod and camera so we can do it now, take a few pictures and edit it for the exhibition”

You stood up and Hendery discarded his coffee cup and immediately brought his shirt over his head.

“Wait you're for real, don't we need to plan ?” you stuttered as the boy continued to strip down to his black boxers.

“We should go with the flow I think it would look better if it was freestyled” He replied as you took in his confident semi nude figure waltzing around the room.

You thanked the heavens you were in somewhat decent underwear today, especially ones that aren't too revealing. Hendery locked the studio doors and taped a piece of paper over the window just in case and began mixing paints as you reluctantly began undressing.

“Don't be nervous, remember those people who were butt ass naked in our class two weeks ago ?” Hendery chuckled as he continued doing his duties.

“Oh yeah that was really something” you reminded yourself of that dreadful experience. The only reason why you agreed to Hendery’s plan was because you were comfortable around him despite never seeing each other like this. He was an extremely sweet person and had always been respectful toward you and your peers.

“Front or back ?” Hendery asked as he stood on the plastic sheet he laid out.

“Back, I really don't want to be face to face with your uhm”

Hendery burst out laughing when he realized what you were hinting at, “noted.”

You gathered your favourite colours and got to work on his back, which was gloriously broad and honestly the perfect human canvas. Hendery hissed at the cold paint making contact with his skin but finally eased up when you began your workflow. It felt awkward at first but eventually became fun, as you watched your piece come to life against his golden skin.

“I guess you're going with a darker style huh? I've always liked your work” Hendery mused as he lifted his arm making it easier for you to cover his ribcage.

“I'm surprised you like it since your style is the complete opposite of mine” you chuckled, “its like good meets evil”

“I think that's why this idea is really going to be perfect, wow I can't wait to see the outcome of it” Hendery stretched up in turn making his muscles flex, which was quite...the sight.

You were coming close to the details around the side of his neck and the closeness made Hendery really take notice of you, like really take notice. He watched you concentrate as you worked on his skin, your tongue darting out while painting was incredibly cute to him.

Hendery had no idea you paid attention but you were definitely aware of him studying you and it kind of made you feel a bit more comfortable that you weren't the only one ogling.

“Okay i'm done!” You took a step back and admired your work, “It actually looks pretty good.”

Hendery stood at the backdrop while you snapped a few solo pictures of him and showed off your artwork. “Wow it looks dope, those demons on my thighs are kinda sexy” he teased and you rolled your eyes, “they're supposed to be creepy not sexy”

“They can be creepy and sexy, just like you” Hendery stuck his tongue out, “come on demon princess it's your turn.”

You and Hendery both agreed on a front facing canvas since it was a good contrast to your piece on him. You sucked in a deep breath as Hendery neared you with the brush and the instant contact made you flinch,

“Too cold?” he cooed, as he carefully began working on your sternum area.

“Y-yeah” you chuckled nervously as you felt his warm breath hit your chest, Hendery looked up at you, eyes slightly narrowed before his lips curled into a grin, “I'm sure you can handle anything babe.”

Where the hell did the sweet boy from earlier disappear to and why the hell did he just turn you on with just his words ?

Hendery quietly painted away, making sure to steal glances at you and his fingers danced lightly across your skin. He was gentle, making sure to touch you appropriately at all times even though you wished he wasn't so courteous for a second.

“Okay I'm all done we should take pictures before it gets messy” Hendery ran over to the camera and began snapping a few shots of you. You were about to walk over to the camera to see his work when he held his hand up to stop you. “Wait we need to take a few together! I just want both canvases to look perfect”

You nodded and stood back in place while Hendery set up a self timer and jogged over to you. Thinking it was just a normal picture you stood as you were before but Hendery moved your arm to caress his face while he faced the other way and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Art is sexy remember” He winked as you recalled that stupid line your fine arts lecturer once said. You bit down on your lip and got into position, feeling a sense of excitement of Hendery’s grip being a little firmer than before.

Hendery set the camera up once more and this time you orchestrated a position where Hendery stood behind you, showing a good portion of his back piece, and you faced front while he and you and him interlaced fingers.

“For the finale we should make out, and kinda show the aftermath of the canvas” Hendery suggested and bit down on his lip, “are you okay with doing that?”

“Eh yeah that's actually a good idea” You agreed and Hendery quickly set up another self timer.

Hendery grabbed your face in his hands as you wrapped your arms around his waist and looked up at him. His bright eyes suddenly darkened as they drifted down to your lips and pressed them against yours. The kiss was heated, crazily passionate for two people who had no prior feelings for each other. Hendery’s lips were soft and sweet, you could still taste the coffee on his tongue from earlier. His hand moved to your hair and he surprised you by slightly tugging on it which caused you to moan into the kiss.

“Oh you into that huh?” he purred, and sucked your bottom lip between his teeth.

He made you dizzy with lust. One simple kiss and you wanted him right then and there. He wasn't shy to grab your ass either as it was the only thing he was thinking about for the past four hours.

“I think the….shutter...went off” you tried to catch your breath as Hendery’s lips already moved to your jaw and his hand gently squeezed his artwork around your throat.

“Mmm, oh yeah” He sighed and licked his lips, breaking away from you and made his way over to the camera. Hendery sat up the final shot for the messed up canvases finale and made his way back over to you.

The two of you posed side by side but you both could clearly hear the other person panting heavily after that heated kiss.

The camera shutter went off and Hendery grabbed hold of your wrist and turned you to face him, “So y/n, There's only one shower” he smirked, “...do you want to wash away our artwork together ?”

#wayv hendery #hendery smut #hendery au #hendery imagines #wayv imagines #wayv smut #wayv reactions #wayv fic #wayv drabble #nct 2020 #nct imagines #nct smut #nct reactions #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #wong hendery

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Eight is too far away - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

Fred Weasley x Fem Reader

Requested/About: Set in OOTP, Umbridge rules that boys and girls cannot be within eight inches of another. Fred and Y/N become touch starved and needy, and they try to sneak around this new rule in order to cope.

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, penetrative sex, sexual letters and nude pictures, masturbation.

The Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six has made your life and Fred's a living hell, you were forced to stay away from one another - forbidden to be closer than eight inches apart, whilst others were lucky enough to have the stand six inches - which increased to eight inches after Professor Umbridge caught the two of you inching closer and closer to one another during class, at the table, in the halls, and on weekends; you were both driving her up the wall.

This decree stopped you from sitting with Fred at the table, and in class, you weren't able to walk alongside him or have private conversations, everywhere you planned to meet up became flooded with Umbridge's Slytherin Cronies, watching out and waiting to hand you in.

Fred had decided that private conversations were better to be through letters that he would hide in the common room where no one else would think to search because even mail service from the owls was searched before arriving at the table.

Y/N,

I miss you, I really fucking miss you. Being unable to touch you, hold you, kiss you - bloody hell - not being able to smell the scent of your hair and skin is killing me. I just want you in my arms, your lips on mine, my hands on your waist, I want to be full of your scent and it's so frustrating that I cannot be with you.

Once I've figured out where is safe for us to meet, I'll let you know.

Fuck, this is all bullshit, really, isn't it? We're living under the same roof yet we can't even walk beside each other, what kind of life is this? honestly.

I've tried to get out of class with my Snack-boxes but the evil toad confiscated everything and I can't get into her office without those bloody cats watching my every move. My hands are so red, tender, and sore from that quill of hers, I hope that you never have to use it.

I need you, love, I'm hungry and desperate for you, I love you.

- Fred.

You traced Fred's handwriting slowly with your fingers, going over each and every letter, comma, and full stop. You couldn't help but chuckle, blush, and even frown at Fred's letter - feeling nothing but sympathy for his poor hand, but you could also feel your insides flutter at the thought of him needing you so desperately.

Picking up your quill, you wrote back, staring at the camera that sat on your desk, watching and encouraging you to pick them up and take some risqué pictures for Fred.

Freddie,

I miss you too - I miss the feeling of your hand in mine, my fingers lost in your hair, I miss your warmth, your laugh, the sound of your voice low in my ear, your soft lips... I want to be full of you - and your scent too.

We must meet soon, I don't know how much longer I can take, my hands and fingers aren't the same - I need a laugh, a kiss, I need your touch and love. You better find somewhere soon, I'm begging you.

It's so hard seeing you and not running over in your arms, pulling you in for a deep, and passionate kiss - I'm itching really bad, and only you can make it stop.

Please stay out of trouble, Freddie, she'll only make things worse if you don't. Get some Murtlap Essence for the back of your hand, it should help, it helped mine when I, unfortunately, had to use it last night.

I know and feel your hunger, your desperation, and your needs because I'm feeling those too - for the time being - I hope these help, baby.

Let me know, and write back soon,

I love you too.

- Y/N.

Pausing for a moment, you grabbed your camera in one hand, looking around your room to check it was still empty. Undoing the buttons on your sleek and sexy black shirt, your breasts pooling out of the opening. Pushing your arms inwards, pushing your breasts together, you leaned the camera to face down on your breasts, your free hand massaging them and your nipples gently, pleasuring yourself.

Pressing the button, the camera flashed, and a few seconds later, it popped out of the end, you pulled out the first picture and fanned it, you touching your breasts developing and moving as it became clearer and less blurry.

Smiling to yourself, you placed the photo down and continued to take more of you and your body, touching yourself and showing off the parts of you that Fred loves most. Once coming up with quite the collection, you placed the photos in the middle of the parchment and folded it over, placing it into the envelope - creeping into the empty common room, you placed Fred's present in the usual hiding place.

Fred crept down into the common room during the middle of the night when his roommates were sleeping, he found the chunky and rather heavy envelope with his name on it and took it upstairs, slowly getting into bed, grabbing his wand, pulling the covers over him.

"Lumos!" he whispered, the bright light beaming from the end of his wand.

Fred placed his wand in-between his knees, holding it in place whilst he opened the envelope, pulling out your letter and opening it, his eyes instantly landing on the moving pictures of you. Fred wanted to read your letter first, truly, but the pictures caught and had control over his undivided attention.

Fred's cock became erect in his pyjama trousers as he held up the picture of your breasts, watching you play with your nipples - Fred's other hand trailed down his pyjama bottoms and held the base of his cock, starting to pump gently, picking up the next photo.

You were stroking your clit in circular motions, then you were fingering yourself, biting your lip, your mouth opening in Fred's favourite 'O' shape, your eyes scrunching as you climaxed - Fred now pumping his cock faster and not as gentle, his panting heavy, feeling himself getting closer and closer to cumming at the sight of you pleasuring yourself at the thought of him.

Fred remembered he had a camera too, forcing himself to wait at the edge, he carefully and quietly moved his arm out of the covers, reaching down beside the bed and grasping his camera, pulling it under the covers - thankful that his brother's sores were loud enough to muffle the noises of the camera clicking as he took the pictures of himself.

The aftermath of his orgasm caught up with him, hitting him in the face with drowsiness and no motivation to write back as his hand was worn out from all the pumping, he hid his developed, moving pictures with yours in the envelope and pushed it under his pillow, promising he would reply in the morning.

After hours of double potions classes, extra study sessions for your N.E.W.Ts and the most uncomfortable, and painful detention with Umbridge and quill, you took a shower, got dressed in your nightwear and went to find the reply to your letter, passing by Fred as you walked down the stairs, his arm brushing against yours, the hair standing up on the back of your neck, your heart skipping beats, a whimper escaping your mouth.

Fred turned around and looked into your hungry eyes with his, searching them, the both of you sharing and exploring one another's fantasies, wants, and needs.

"Soon, love" Fred comforted you from afar, walking away despite how painful his heart clawed through his chest to get to you "I promise."

Taking a deep breath, you sighed, nodded and collected your letter, walking back to bed - wanting nothing more than to run after him, grab him by the hand, drag him to the sofa where you would push him down and fuck him senseless.

Like Fred, the night before, you balanced your wand between your knees, the light beaming from the tip as you ready his letter, your cheeks burning at the stack of pictures he had taken for you.

Y/N,

Those pictures... bloody hell, what are you trying to do, kill me? I can't wait to have my fingers inside of you, my lips against your neck and just having you all to myself. But enough talk of it... I'll be doing it soon enough.

That bitch seriously made you use her quill? I hope your hand clears up sweetheart, the sooner she's gone... the better. I'll get rid of her soon enough.

I've found a place for us to meet, stay up late tomorrow night and head towards the astronomy tower, I'll meet you there - and don't be late, you need to set off at midnight if you're early or late you'll get caught.

Hope these pictures are as good as yours were, never taken these before but fuck, my cock is so hard for you, you've made me cum so hard, you beautiful girl.

Get plenty of sleep, you'll need it.

See you tomorrow,

Freddie.

Beginning to get excited, you picked up the stack of photos again, flicking through them, feeling your crotch flutter and begin to get wet. Fred's large length gripped in his hand that stroked himself up and down slowly, in the next photo, Fred pumped his cock faster - precum spilling out from his tip which he spread across the head, in the third, still pumping, his cock twitched and you witnessed his sudden cum shot - the white liquid shooting out and then flowing down his fingers.

You watched the moving pictures over and over again, but Fred was right - you needed plenty of sleep in preparation for tomorrow night. Blushing wildly, you placed his photos in the envelope and shoved it to the back of your drawers, your head full of what he would do to you, and what you would do to him.

Waiting for one more minute, one more sixty seconds to pass, you gripped onto your coat, hiding your face in the dark, counting down the seconds in your head, finally sneaking out of your bedroom, out the common room and through the portrait hole.

Fred had already managed to get to the astronomy tower undetected, the nerves inside of him flourished - he felt like he was going on a first date all over again, he kept going over what he wanted to say, what he wanted to do, and how he would do it, those pictures still moving in his mind; frustrating him all the more.

“The view” you panted, finally reaching Fred “is perfect.”

You stared at Fred’s gorgeous hair, illuminated by the moonlight, his gorgeous figure in his best clothes, this is the closest you had been to him in months - yet you weren't even touching, you were slowly inching closer and closer; eight inches, seven, six, five...

“The starry sky is perfect at this time” Fred replied, turning around to face you, closing in on you as he walked over.

four, three...

“I wasn’t talking about the sky” you smirked, biting your lip.

Two, one...

Fred grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him, his touch soothing your soul, calming your crying heart as his soft, kissable lips landed on yours, kissing you with intense hunger and desperation - you kissed back with intense want and need for him. Your hands reached to the back of his neck, travelling up into his hair and getting your fingers tangled, Fred’s lips pulling away from yours and slowly planting kisses down your neck before he sucked on it softly, soft moans he missed so much finally being heard as clear as a silver bell.

Fred’s hands travelled up towards the zip on your coat, pulling it down and slowly pushing your coat off your shoulders when you removed your hands from his soft hair, his fingers dived underneath your top, unclipping your bra, your hands worked on removing his belt, pulling his zipper and then his trousers down - your neck now slight sore and bruised from Fred’s sucking.

Laying your coat flat against the cold floor, Fred placed you down on your back, you took your top off, pulling it over your face while Fred unbuttoned his smart shirt, your eyes fixated on the tent that had formed in his boxers, filling your body with excitement and your mouth with drool.

Propping yourself up on your knees, with the cold air tickling your exposed skin, you pulled his boxers down, Fred’s erect cock slapping against his stomach. Looking up at him, into his beautiful, brown eyes, he looked down at you and smiled, nodding his head, his gentle hand resting on the back of your head; he wasn’t going to stop you - he had waited too long for this.

Blushing, you took hold of Fred’s erection at the base and took him into your mouth slowly, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, Fred lowered his head back and closed his eyes, feeling extra sensitive after going months without anything but his own hand down there... his moans and groans wouldn’t stop, and you loved it; you could feel yourself getting wet.

You didn’t want to stop, and you weren't going to - you were so turned on and you wouldn’t mind taking his load into the back of your mouth and swallowing it down your throat. You continued to suck faster, your hand pumping at the same time as you bobbed your head, Fred tightened his grip on your hair, slowly pushing you further down, causing you to choke on his length - your saliva looking like laces as you pulled yourself off him for air.

Fred opened his eyes and looked down at you, he crouched down and wiped the saliva from your lips, his index finger on his other hand now hooking the waistband of your knickers. Pulling them down, Fred pushed you back down on your warm coat - shielding your exposed back from the harsh chills of the night. Fred’s lips attacked yours, you fought back and sucked on his bottom lip, moaning against him - his wet fingers brushing against your sensitive clit.

Your tongue roamed inside of Fred’s mouth, dancing with and then fighting against his tongue, tasting himself in your mouth made Fred’s cock even harder, his fingers abandoned your clit and ducked towards your tight entrance, his index and middle finger circling them teasingly before finally plunging inside of you.

You jolted out of surprise and moaned against his lips and into his mouth, Fred’s fingers pumping in and out, deep inside of you, his fingers starting to collect your juices with each pump and brush against your G-Spot. Fred pulled away from the kiss and grinned, biting his lip, enjoying the sight of you coming undone beneath him. Your walls tightened around his long digits, and your stomach tightening, wanting nothing more than to finally release all over his fingers - knowing this, Fred stopped and withdrew his fingers from your warm cunt.

You pouted as Fred’s smile widened.

“So unfair” you huffed, pretending to strop.

Fred rolled his eyes and tutted, putting on a condom and applying lube, he towered over you “wrap your legs around me, love.” he said lowly into your ear.

Doing so, your legs wrapped around Fred’s lower half as he lined his length up to your pleading entrance, lowering himself down, he pulled you into a cuddle, his arms across your back and pushed himself slowly inside of you. Fred paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size as your walls tightened around him, when ready, Fred continued to slowly thrust himself inside and out of you, the lube helping him glide in more easily.

“You feel so good Freddie!” you moaned, the cool air no longer making you cold.

Fred panted, picking up his speed and sticking to his rhythm, “I’ve been waiting for so long” he grunted, beads of sweat forming across his forehead “so bloody tight”

The night felt truly magical, the starry sky and gleaming moon out for the perfect viewing, you and the love of your life finally able to touch, kiss, and fuck - you were definitely counting your lucky stars tonight, as you would lay down and cool in Fred’s arms, talking about everything the two of you had missed.

Pulling you closer to him, Fred’s face now rested in the crook of your neck, planting delicate kisses and whispering “I love you” in your ear before finally pulling away from your warmth, Fred grabbed your legs from around him and placed them upon his shoulders, his clock gliding deeper inside of you - the pleasure increasing and travelling throughout your entire body.

Fred picked up his speed, slamming inside of you, over and over, the beads of sweat now forming across his chest and back, Fred’s grunts and groans getting louder, your fingernails gripping and scratching his lower sides as the pleasure between the two of you continued to rise, getting ready to boil over.

“Fuck!” you wailed, your walls tightening as much as they possibly could around Fred’s throbbing length “Freddie, I’m going to cum!”

This giving Fred the stretch he needed to finish the race, he continued to slam inside of you, deeper, harder and faster until your cum flowed down his length, your legs shaking upon his shoulders and your panting overtaking his. Fred’s cock throbbed and throbbed until he couldn’t hold back anymore, spilling his seed into the condom as he pushed himself deep inside of you one last time.

Slowly pulling out and taking off the condom, Fred laid beside you and pulled you into his loving arms, kissing you on the forehead whilst the two of you caught your breaths and tried to keep up with your racing hearts.

“So” you breathed out “what have I missed?”

Fred grinned, shaking his head, still panting and in a state of bliss.

“You’ve got no idea...”

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#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic #ron weasley #fanfic #weasley #draco malfoy

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ihearthes · 4 years ago

Photo

Golden Rod

(inspired by Golden MV)

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person) Rating: Smut (18+ only) Word Count: 2829

“Thanks for the ride, Ryan!” you call, waving at Lambert’s assistant as he drives away to the garages on the Vesta. “Ciao!”

Excited to show Harry your new lingerie, you enter the villa where the team has been staying. “Is he done for the day, Ben?” The words are muffled behind the cloth mask you’ve insisted is essential despite the drop in Italy’s coronavirus cases.

The Fulwell 73 producer points upstairs without a word before bending over the video footage he’s scouring with the director. The opulent surroundings have been modernized, and you grin while mounting the stairs to the top floor where the master suite consumes the entire space. From the expansive open windows, you view the Tyrrhenian Sea, causing you to literally pinch yourself. How had life blessed you in such a way? Giddy, you continue up the stone steps.

Kicking off your sandals, you curl your toes into the cool, smooth tile. Fuck. This had been the perfect day. Swimming in the infinity pool during the morning with endless fresh fruits at your fingertips whenever you stepped out of the water to feel the warm sun on your skin. A socially distanced lunch of Insalata Di Mare Campanese (Seafood Salad) with Molly in a local restaurant. A trip to the stores with the adorable stylist Ryan -- where he’d introduced you to a new designer of gloriously sexy lingerie!

You’d bought four pieces.

Harry was going to love all of them, and you couldn’t wait to showcase them in your own private fashion show on the secure top floor of the Italian villa.

Stopping in the marbled bathroom, you draw in a deep breath at the chill on your heated feet. Quickly, you wash your hands, singing “Happy Birthday” twice like you’d been taught to ensure 20 seconds has elapsed. No way were you going to be responsible for inadvertently passing along the virus to your boyfriend during the Golden music video shoot. He’d end up missing out on filming the music video and the upcoming Don’t Worry Darling if he tested positive. Carefully removing your mask, you toss it into the laundry hamper before washing your hands a second time.

Tiptoeing out of the bath, you wonder where the man of the hour might be. Napping? Nope. Not in the bed. On the loggia, you spy Harry settled in a chair, staring into space.

“Can’t blame you, Styles. That’s one hell of a view.” Gazing over the colorful boats moored in the sea near the coast, your eyes feast on the sky with its tints of reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges as the sun begins to sink into the water. Honestly, you expect to hear a sizzle as the bright ball of gases descends into the blue serenity of the sea.

“Indeed.” His quiet voice doesn’t sound normal for Harry, and you approach slowly, like one might a wounded deer. Wouldn’t want to frighten him away.

“Harry!” The gasp leaves your throat, and you press your hand to your mouth to capture the sound too late as it has already escaped. “What the hell happened to your knee?”

He shrugs, finally glancing in your direction. “Skinned it. Hi, love. Did you have a good day?”

“I had a beautiful day, but what the fuck did you do to your knee?” Crouching down, you examine the spot where blood is flowing. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but enough that you want to clean it. “My poor baby,” you coo, “Let me clean that for you.”

Rising, you glide to the bathroom again.

“Bring some ice too, love,” he requests, tacking on a “please” at the last minute.

Stopping in the suite’s tiny kitchen, you search the small freezer for ice as requested. Ransacking the cabinets in the bathroom, you manage to locate cotton balls, an antiseptic, and a bandage. Returning to Harry, you kneel at his feet. “This might sting a bit.” Cautiously, you cover the cotton ball with the antiseptic and press it to his wound.

He winces, but the only sound he releases is a mild hiss.

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not a big deal, love.”

As the blood vanishes with its absorption into the cotton ball, you agree with him. The wound is relatively minor. Should form a scab in the next day or so. Carefully, you remove the adhesive from the bandage and press it over the small scratch.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you tease, “you’ll heal soon enough.”

“Gonna run that one into the ground, aren’t you?” he jokes.

“Might as well,” your shrug, grinning. “Don’t worry, H. You’re so golden.” His smile gives away his mirth at the pun. “Soon enough, you’ll be done filming, and moving on to something else. And I’ll give you hell about whatever the next thing is too.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he confesses with intense eye contact, and your insides start to flutter.

As an afterthought, you hold up a bag of frozen peas. “No ice, H. I’m so American that I forgot Europeans don’t do much ice. Will this do?”

“Sure.” Grabbing the bag of peas, he smirks before placing it on his crotch.

You raise an eyebrow. “Your dick needs ice?”

His eyes rake over you. “Kind of went running without an athletic supporter today.”

Planting your hands on your hips, you glare at him. “Why would you damage the goods like that?”

Raising his shoulders, he grins, “The fans will love it.”

Your lower lip juts out as you pout at him. “Does that mean it’s off limits to me?”

“It’s sore, love. Not broken.” Harry emphasizes, but that doesn’t make you feel any better.

“But I’ve got lingerie,” you state clearly.

He sits up quickly, shifting the bag of frozen peas on his crotch. “You do?”

“Yep.” You allow the ‘P’ to pop. “Ryan introduced me to a new designer. I bought four sets.”

“Fuck,” he breathes.

“Not with your dick wounded,” you remind him with a tiny hitch in your breathy voice.

“Fuck,” he repeats.

“Should I model the first one or wait until tomorrow?” You’re definitely pushing the envelope here, yet how dare he give fans priority to his most precious bits?!

Eyes darkening, he sweeps his gaze over your light trousers and loose shirt. “Ummmm...now please.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t want you to hurt your dick more.”

The exasperated roll of his eyes makes you smile. “I wanna see, love.”

Examining him, you come to the conclusion that he’s an adult and knows what he wants. With a nod, you grasp the handle of the bag from the designer. “Be right back!” Hurrying to the bedroom, you set the bag down before rummaging in it for the most sedate look: a white lacy baby doll bit that hits mid-thigh and comes with a long peignoir. Putting on frilly high heeled slipper with it, you strut in front of him with the robe tightly covering your body, watching as his eyes darken.

“Like this one?”

“Shit, love. It’s…”

When you part the edges to reveal the concoction underneath, Harry has to catch his breath, shifting in the seat as he adjusts the frozen peas.

“Hot?” you taunt.

“Mhm. Come here, and check my temperature.” His voice is throaty, and you recognize the signs quite easily.

“Nope. Three more to go before I get within touching distance, H. Sorry.”

“Dammit,” He mockingly shakes his head. “You know I could easily see all of them on separate nights. Let’s just start with this one.”

Purposely, you push your lip out in a pout. “But then the other lingerie would get jealous, and Ryan went to a lot of effort to get me a private viewing. After all, this stuff isn’t available to the general public.”

“No?” He sighs, and you catch the hitch in his comment. “Bring on the second one then.”

Confidently, you swagger from the room. With shaky hands, you withdraw the bright red lace camisole and boy short. Is this the appropriate one to wear next? The red might just push him over the edge. Best to stay out of his reach then. Smirking, you pull the outfit on and waltz onto the balcony with a twirl, your hair on pointe as its curls bounced with you.

“Holy fuck. That’s the second one?” His strangled cry makes you laugh in joy.

“How’s that cock feeling now?” you gesture in the direction of his crotch.

“The peas have melted I believe.”

“Mhm. Maybe you should go get something else from the freezer then.”

“Nah. I’d rather you come get this bag for me. I might be too injured to walk inside.”

“Oh, you’re so funny. I know this game. I get close to you, and the other two lingerie outfits never see the light of day. Nope. You want more frozen food for your genitals, you can get it yourself.” Laughing, you smack your rounded ass as you amble into the bedroom again.

“Fuck!” Harry yells behind you.

The dialogue combined with the strutting has your pussy feeling damp as the waves of arousal rush over you. Sure you’d fucked last night, but today was a new day, and you wanted to feel that dick inside you -- regardless of the damage he did by jogging in the city for the video.

The third one is pink -- and you’re well aware from experience how much Harry loves pink. The baby doll dress is silk and lands just at the top of your thighs with a black lace bodice that laces in the middle. Kind of laces anyway. Plenty of boob still visible. Or barely hidden. Whichever you prefer.

“Oh my god. You’re killing me!” Harry whines as you parade just out of his reach. When he starts to rise, you shake a finger at him.

“No, no, H. You need to recuperate from running today. Better stay seated.”

He chokes as you twist around to show him all sides, including the g-string with its bare backside.

“You’re evil!” he calls as you dance back into the bedroom.

This is the final one, and you prepare carefully. It takes extra time to put on, and you smile as you observe your image in the room’s mirror. Deftly, you slip a couple of condoms in the bodice of the bralette.

You find a playlist of romantic Italian music and set it to play on the Bluetooth speaker in the bedroom, ensuring the volume is high enough to be heard on the loggia.

Harry gasps the moment he sees you. “You’re not wearing anything under that!”

Playfully you glance down at the last lingerie set. “Oh, damn. I guess when I put the garter skirt and stockings on, I must have forgotten the panties. Forgive me?”

His head bobs up and down as he gulps.

“Now,” you murmur, approaching him. Grasping a pillow from a nearby chair, you plop it on the floor in front of him, settling on your knees there. “I think the best thing is if I take a look at this dick to make sure you didn’t do too much damage.”

Removing the no-longer-frozen peas, you toss the bag to the side. No one will be eating those. Ever. Silently, Harry waits while you carefully peel down the top of his elasticized shorts and remove his cock. You have to catch your breath every time you get to glimpse it, and today is no exception.

Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips as you hold his rigid length in your hand, your eyes flickering up to his where he’s staring intently at you. Maintaining eye contact, you run your tongue over the tip of his cock, paying extra attention to the slit there.

“Mmmm,” you murmur. “The tip seems to be okay. Let me check the length.”

Using your saliva as lubrication, you run your hands down his shaft to his balls. “Doesn’t appear to be broken,” you smirk, “In fact, seems pretty solid and firm to me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Might want to apply some suction there, love, just in case.”

You don’t really care what he means by that last phrase. You’re more than happy to test out the equipment to ensure that it’s in full working order. Spreading his legs more firmly, you lean in, sliding his entire dick into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Harry grasps the hair at the back of your hand, bunching it in his hand as he guides you along his length. You hear him sigh, and you’re confident he’s tilted his head back and closed his eyes, but when you glance at him, you find that his eyes are still on your lips.

Fuck. It turns you on even more, and you can feel your pussy dripping onto the pillow. You make a mental note to remove the cover and wash it before leaving the villa.

As your lips glide along him, you’re frustrated at not having full access to him. As you apply suction to his tip, you pop off him with an audible sound. Both of your hands reach for the waistband of his shorts, and you gently encourage him -- “Lift your bum, H” -- so you can fully remove the garment, throwing it over your shoulder and hoping it doesn’t sail into the pool below. Harry smiles, adjusting his stance into the biggest man spread you’ve ever seen.

Before you return to your ministrations on his cock, you grasps your chin, drawing your face forward and upwards until he can lock lips with you.

“Not much longer, love, or I’ll explode.”

“I don’t mind,” you purr.

“Mhm. But if we’re fully going to test the equipment, then that should include more than a bj.”

“Ah, I see,” you grin. “But of course. We want to be thorough.”

First, though, you are compelled to play with his balls, so you take him into your mouth again, adding one hand to his length while the fingers on the other play with the balls underneath. Fuck. You could do this all day. Breathing through your nose, you deepthroat him and suck for a solid ten seconds before you release him completely.

With a grin, you stand, kicking aside the pillow. “Hmmmmm...trying to decide the best way to do this.” Your voice has a catch in it, and you wipe your mouth before bending over and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Tongue darting forward, you taste him, allowing him to suckle your tongue briefly.

As you come up for air, Harry moves his legs together while slipping his hand between yours and nudging your legs apart. With one finger he teases your clit, flicking it from side to side as he watches your face and eases another digit inside you. Oh hell. This feels…

“Fuck, H.”

“You’re so tight, baby. Come sit here. Let’s test out the equipment. Make sure everything works properly.”

At his invitation, you step forward as he shifts his bum down on the chair a bit.

“Shit. I forgot…”

With his words, you remove the first condom from your bralette where it has conveniently been nuzzling your nipple, the hard corner of the foil packet hardening your nip.

Grasping his dick, he uses the tip to slap at your pussy a few times before using your internal juices to lubricate himself. Your eyes roll back into your head as the two of you work together so you can slide onto him without any additional moments wasted.

When you’re fully seated on his dick, you grind just for a moment.

“Hmmmm...seems sturdy enough,” you pant.

“Oh, you’re so funny,” he drawls, but his eyes roll back in his head when you glide along his length, your stockinged thighs surrounded by his large hands. “Fuck, love.”

“Working on it,” you laugh breathlessly as the rhythm becomes easier. His hands move to your arse as he assists you in riding him.

Draping your arms over his shoulders, you shake your tits in his face, and he grins as he bends his head to press a kiss at the juncture of your boobs.

As your climax begins to arrive, your movements become less steady and more sporadic. Harry, knowing you as he does, reaches between your bodies to tease your clit as you throw your head back and cry out two thrusts before his seed spurts into the condom and his eyes roll back into his head. Spent, you collapse on his chest, still joined.

“I think,” you whisper as you kiss his neck while playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, “we can agree that the equipment still works just fine. No damage here.” Picking up your head, you glare at him. “But no more, H! What’s mine is mine. The fans get enough of you.”

He laughs as his arms surround you, and he buries his head in your shoulder.

“Of course, love. Whatever you say.”

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers. If you liked this even just a little tiny bit, please take a second to reblog so that others might find it. Getting likes is nice, but it doesn’t help me grow my readership. Thanks for your consideration!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #my writing #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #1d imagine #harry styles reader insert #original writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #sorry I'm so slow at getting this one finished!#please let me know what you think

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gumnut-logic · 3 years ago

Text

Preen

Okay, this is 4000 words of fluff dripping with so much sop, it is almost pure liquid. It doesn’t really go anywhere, and it refused to come to a neat ending. So yeah, FishTank with just a dash of Earth and Sky in the middle, all wrapped up in the Marks & Wings AU.

I was desperate to write some comfort and M&W is my go to for self indulgence, so that’s what we have. Blatant Virgil comfort fic :D

Many thanks to @janetm74 and @tsarinatorment for the read through and support, but I would also like to say a very big thank you to all of the Thunderfam who sent me so many kind well wishes on Monday. I’m feeling better and the writing muscles seem to be flexing okay at this point, so maybe, if you like Marks & Wings, please consider this a bit of a thank you fic. And for those of you who don’t find this AU to be your cup of tea, I hope I can write you something you like in the near future. ::hugs you all:: You are all so kind and amazing to me.

I hope you enjoy whatever this is ::extra hugs::

-o-o-o-

“Virg, let me do it?”

Virgil brushed his fingertips through the length of one of his black flight feathers. Its root twinged, both with irritation and the ache of bruising, but he found the grass seed responsible and a pair of fingernails scraped it out and dropped it onto the locker room floor.

The relief was wonderful.

Only a thousand or so more to go.

A sigh. “Do what?” He started working on the next grass seed. Honestly, grass was evil and he was ever so thankful there was very little of it on the Island.

“Preen your feathers.” Gordon was standing in his swim shorts watching Virgil poke at his wings. “I want to help.”

Another grass seed fell to the floor. “It wasn’t your fault, Fish.”

“You still saved my ass.” A hesitant and emotional breath. “I want to help you.”

Scott was usually the one who helped each brother preen. ‘Smotherhen’ was a very appropriate name when he had his feathers out. Virgil helped Scott when he had issues. But feathers were sensitive and preening a deeply personal thing, much like bathing.

And Gordon didn’t have feathers and didn’t know what it felt like.

“You know I help Allie sometimes.”

The honesty and concern in those russet eyes were ever so strong.

“Okay.”

The small smile that spread on Gordon’s face lit up his eyes.

Virgil ripped another grass seed from his plumage and bruises twinged. Ow. “Be gentle. There are a few...bruises.”

The smile disappeared. “Are you hurt?”

Virgil sighed. Gordon had managed to get all the rescuees onto the rescue rig, but an explosion had destabilised the building before he could jump off himself. The result had seen his fish brother pinwheeling towards hard concrete.

Virgil hadn’t hesitated, his wings out before thought. Launching off the rescue rig, he’d swooped through smoke and caught his little brother midair. But another explosion had thrown him off pace and the result was Virgil curled protectively around Gordon and tumbling through a field full of weeds.

And grass. So much ripe seeding grass.

So not only was he aching all over from a shitty landing that could have, but somehow didn’t, seriously broken something, his wings were also full of contaminants.

The flight home had been hell. Even hidden in his mark, they itched, irritated and tormented him.

To finally be home and able to attend to the mess was a relief in itself, but not so much as getting all those damned seeds out. If Scott had been here, there would have been a lecture, but so much help.

Eight metres of feathers was a lot to attend to.

But Scott was on Three with Alan, so it was just him and Gords, an equally caring but inexperienced brother.

Virgil stretched out his right wing. It groaned and complained, forcing a breath from him. “Just aching bruises. I’m fine, Gords. Honest. Getting these seeds out will help a lot.”

Gordon held up his hands. “Tell me what to do.”

So Virgil did. He guided his brother’s hands to a feather, pointed out the snag and showed him how to use his fingernails to brush it out, how to align the feather into its correct position, and outlined how he would wash them himself and work a light preening oil over them after his shower.

Gordon listened ever so attentively and Virgil had to admit, it was a relief to have another set of hands working through his feathers despite the ache.

Gordon, for all their brotherly ribbing, was ever so gentle when he wanted to be. Virgil had seen him caring for children and babies out in the field and he trusted him with so much. His feathers were nothing in comparison.

More grass seeds fell to the floor. They would be vacuumed up and destroyed lest they contaminate the Island which was why Virgil was doing this in the locker room rather than anywhere else. There were decontamination facilities here of multiple types.

“Sit down, Virgil. Let me do this.”

Virgil blinked. “It will get done faster if we both do it.”

“You need to rest. And don’t tell me otherwise, or I’ll grab the scanner and prove my point enough to call in Grandma.”

His shoulders dropped. “Gordon...”

“Sit down, bro.” A hand on his wing shoulder. “Please.” Gordon really knew how to throw those puppy eyes around. To top it off, Gordon grabbed an office chair and wheeled it in so Virgil didn’t have to sit on the hard bench.

The upholstery looked soft and inviting – a sign that Virgil was obviously desperate. It was only one of the many type chairs in the villa and nothing special.

He must be tired.

“Fine.” Virgil groaned as he took the chair and straddled it backwards, letting the back rest support his front while his wings had total freedom.

Gordon was right. That tumble of a landing had punched the wind out of him. It had been a shitty rescue to begin with. The fall had just topped it off.

Fortunately, Gordon was fine. Virgil had used that entire eight metres of feathers to wrap around and protect his brother, curling them up into a ball that rolled, shedding harmful momentum.

But there were scrapes and bent feathers and bruises.

So many bruises.

Virgil winced as Gordon tugged on one. “Sorry! A stubborn burr. It’s out now.”

Virgil closed his eyes. “Is fine.”

Gordon’s fingers gently moved between primaries, methodically examining and removing irritants.

It was quite nice to have someone else taking care of his feathers. Gordon’s touch caressed jangled nerves, untangled snags and lined up vanes one by one. The relief was palpable and relaxing.

Virgil sagged ever so slowly where he sat, his head falling onto his arms.

At some point he realised Gordon was humming. Just softly and a familiar tune. It took a solid few minutes for Virgil to connect the notes and come up with the composition he had created for Grandma’s last birthday.

Gordon had a good voice. He wasn’t ashamed to use it either. Unfortunately, his choice of repertoire left much to be desired. His best usually involved an ancient sea shanty, a genre his fish brother actively took an interest in. At his worst, it was something like the ‘I’m too sexy for this shirt’ song from last century.

His little brother had blown a few shirt buttons the last time he danced to that one. If he’d known that Alan would film it and send a copy to Lady Penelope, then perhaps he wouldn’t have danced so...exotically.

Alan was still suffering the fallout from that episode.

Lady P was still smiling.

Virgil couldn’t help smiling, too.

“Got something on your mind?” Gordon startled him. “When’s Tin due back?”

“Gordon...”

“What? I know you have a thing for our lovely security chief. Just asking.”

“Well, don’t.”

But even that poke in the ribs couldn’t disturb him that much. Gordon was doing a great job cleaning his feathers and Virgil lost himself in the sensation of being cared for.

Gordon must have realised that his brother had found peace because he didn’t say anything further, just hummed away as he worked.

Virgil ended up with his eyes closed, his shoulders relaxed and his wings drooping on the floor.

He was vaguely aware of Gordon sweeping up detritus and for a moment, he put enough energy in to lift his wings off the concrete properly.

“I think I’ve got most of them.” His brother brushed his fingers gently through feathers, skipping across his secondaries, up to his lesser coverts and onto the down that tracked over his shoulders and back.

Virgil shivered at his touch.

“Virg?”

He pushed himself up, staggering to his feet. “Gotta go wash.” Gordon grabbed him as he wobbled.

“You sure about that?”

“Will be more comfortable.” He had to remind himself that Gordon didn’t know. Or maybe he did. Virgil felt suddenly felt guilty for not having had such a discussion with his little brother in the past.

“I can understand that, but you’re dead on your feet.”

Virgil forced himself to stand up straighter and everything ached. He experimentally flapped his wings just a little. So much better.

But they were still dusty.

“A quick rinse and dry. That’s all.”

Gordon looked ready to go for that scanner again.

Virgil sighed, half folded his wings and headed for the specialised wet area designed for just this activity.

He closed the doors between his brother and himself.

“Virg?”

“I’m fine, Gordon. I won’t be long.” Something obviously had the fish worried. Virgil closed his eyes and let his wings droop. They were heavy.

He gave himself that moment, before shucking off his pants and throwing them in the laundry chute. Lifting his wings again, he walked to the wall, punched in a temperature and set the fine spray running.

Walking into the warm water was bliss.

He may have lost himself for a moment or two between soap and spray.

“Virg? You okay in there?”

He startled and realised he had been standing there, half asleep for he didn’t know how long.

But he was clean. Thank goodness. Soap had been applied to skin and water had washed the dust from his feathers.

This, of course, made them heavier, but only for a short time as he switched the spray off and activated the blow dry.

Warm air evaporated the moisture off his wings. He flapped them repeatedly and they complained. But the water fell and soon he was as dry as he could be.

With a sigh, he carefully folded his pinions and let them go.

As always, it was a rush of sensation as they disappeared and his centre of gravity shifted abruptly. So tired, he staggered to one knee with a groan.

So many bruises.

“Virg, goddamnit.” His brother was suddenly there.

It wasn’t a gasp. It wasn’t. Really. “You ever heard of knocking?”

Yellow light flickered over him and he groaned. “Gordon, I’m fine. Just need some sleep.” He pushed himself off the floor.

A towel was shoved into his stomach. “Put this on. We’re going to see Grandma.”

Virgil clutched at the towel. “Why?”

Gordon held up the readings on the medscanner. “You tell me.”

Virgil stared at the numbers and the diagram representing his body. “Just some bruising.” Perhaps some imbalances. Nothing sleep and a good meal couldn’t fix.

The thought of food turned his stomach over. Maybe just a drink.

“I’m fine, Gordon. Feathers were a bit messed up. Broke a couple and gained some bruises. There is nothing a simple painkiller and bed won’t fix.”

He wrapped the towel around his waist anyway and strode towards the doors.

“Virgil-“

“Gordon, please.”

“Didn’t you say you needed to oil your feathers?”

“I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“I could do it for you now.”

Virgil closed his eyes again. God, he was tired. “You can help me tomorrow. Now, I’m going to bed.” He shoved the doors open further and strode through. His uniform was still on the bench, but he’d stash that tomorrow as well.

Gordon hurried to catch up with him and followed him to his rooms.

“You’re stalking me, Gords. I’m going to get weirded out.”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror yet?”

“What? Why?”

He had been about to shed the towel and don his pyjama pants, but wasn’t used to the audience.

Gordon grabbed him gently by the elbow and led him over to his full-length mirror.

His reflection looked as tired as he felt. “What is your point, Gordon?”

His brother turned him side on, the black etching of his mark wrapping around his biceps and shoulder…was mottled.

Virgil twisted further around and found his mark to be a patchwork of red and blue up and down the length of his torso.

That explained the ow.

“I would really prefer Grandma to take a look, Virgil.”

“It’s just bruising.” No matter how spectacular.

“We fell from quite a height.”

Virgil looked over at his brother. “This is not your fault, Gords. You know that. A few bruises are nothing compared to your safety.”

“But what about your safety?”

“I’m fine.”

“Then why won’t you let Grandma have a look?”

“She doesn’t need to. There is nothing to look at.”

Gordon stared at him and something flickered in his eyes. “Fine. But I want you to let your wings out before you go to bed.”

Virgil blinked. “Why?” He had just let them go and that had hurt enough.

“I want to check to make sure all the burrs are gone.”

“We’ve already done that.”

“I want to give them another look, just to make sure.”

Virgil eyed him. “There is not enough room in here.” He gestured around his bedroom.

“Then we’ll go into the living room and set up a lounger.”

“So Grandma can accidentally find me there?” Virgil frowned at his brother.

“Nooooo.”

Virgil glared at him. He was up to something, he was sure of it. But Virgil didn’t have the energy to pursue it and honestly, he did trust Gordon. He knew enough to know that feathers were no joking matter.

Ever.

Not after the incident with Scott all those years ago.

That had not been funny at all.

And there was something in his brother’s eyes. Honest concern.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

Entering the living room, Virgil was surprised to find that it was evening and the sun was gilding the Island. A gentle breeze was blowing off the caldera and the birds on Mateo were warbling as they settled down for the evening.

Virgil stood on the balcony barefoot, shirtless and just let it soak in. The breeze ruffled his hair and caressed aching skin.

“Virg? Come lay down.”

He blinked and turned to find Gordon standing beside a lounger with a thick mattress and several pillows.

“Gordon, why are you doing this?”

“I want to help. You got hurt because of me. Please help me fix it, even just a little.”

“It was not your fault. Just a shitty rescue.”

“You’re in pain.”

“It’s nothing, Gords, honest.”

“Will you please just lift and lie down.” There was just a touch of warning in his little brother’s tone. Gordon had a streak of their father in him almost as much as Scott did.

Fine.

But Virgil glared anyway.

Before he could think about it too much, he hunched and lifted.

And Gordon had to catch him or he would have fallen. God, that hurt. Only bruising, but ow.

Gordon had caught him under his arms. “Virg? You with me?” Worried brown eyes peered up at him.

“I’m fine.” But it was rasped out. His wings were still folded and a mass of ache, dragging on the floor.

“C’mon, let’s get you lying down.”

Virgil grunted. The divan suddenly looked so much more inviting. The pillow was soft beneath his cheek as he finally lay down on his belly. He let out a breath and every aching muscle relaxed into the soft mattress. Where had his brother found it? It was heaven.

“Spread your wings for me, Virgil?”

He blinked, almost on the edge of sleep. “Mmm-hmm...”

“This is the last I’ll ask of you, I promise. Spread your wings and then you can sleep.”

Sleep.

Ever so stiff, his pinions ached and creaked as he unfolded and extended them out. Gentle hands caught his left wing and guided it down to a soft surface. Footsteps around him and his right wing was gently nudged to an equally soft landing.

A hand on his shoulder and a finger brushed hair out of his eyes.

Ever so quietly. “Sleep, big brother.”

Virgil let his wing shoulders relax and mumbled into his pillow.

Gordon snorted just softly and a moment later a light blanket was laid over his legs. “Your modesty is safe. Now sleep.”

Mmph.

But Gordon was running his fingers through the fine down on his shoulders and Virgil was too tired to resist.

He slipped away.

-o-o-o-

“He’s okay, Gordon.”

The voice was his beloved grandmother, whispering. “He has some bruising and a few electrolyte imbalances. He just needs rest and possibly a painkiller.”

“He won’t take them, you know that.” A shaky breath. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, honey. What about you? You took the fall as well.”

“I’m good, Grandma.”

There was silence for a moment and Virgil drifted.

“He saved me.”

“You boys have a habit of doing that.”

“Grandma...”

“You fell. Your brothers can fly. Of course they are going to catch you.”

There was a muffled sound.

“Aww, honey, come here.” Shuffled footsteps. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“He’s hurt because of me.” There was a shake to Gordon’s voice that set off alarms in Virgil’s head. His little brother was hurting.

He shifted, attempting to shrug off the fog of sleep, but a small hand landed on his shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie.” He had no idea if the words were addressed to him or to his little brother, but the hand brushed gently through his shoulder down and was ever so paralysing that he lost his fight with sleep again and drifted off.

-o-o-o-

Someone was tugging gently at one of his primaries.

The tugging nudged him into awareness, but then disappeared, leaving him floating in that lazy level just below full consciousness.

Fingers were combing ever so gently through his feathers.

One by one.

He was being looked after.

He wasn’t awake enough to protest, to resist the care being given. Not awake enough to feel guilt.

But enough to just enjoy being looked after, being cared for.

Being loved in the gentlest way possible.

Fingers combed through his secondaries and he let himself fall away.

-o-o-o-

“He’s okay, Scott. Grandma has checked him over, I promise. Just a mass of bruising.” Gordon’s voice was whispering again.

“He looks awful.” Alan’s honesty bounced around Virgil’s dopey brain.

“Shh. I know. Don’t wake him.”

A flicker of yellow light and Gordon sighed. “Don’t believe me, huh?”

“I believe you. I just need to check for myself.” Scott’s deeper rumble blossomed comfort in Virgil’s heart. His big brother was home. He would look after Gordy.

Virgil relaxed just that notch further.

-o-o-o-

Time passed.

It must have, because when Virgil finally woke up everything was quiet. Slow blinking revealed very early dawn barely lighting up the hardwood floor.

Slow neurons fired and eventually gave him the information he needed. He had fallen asleep before the sun went down. Gordy.

Gordy falling.

He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.

“Gordon’s fine, Virgil.”

The words were quiet and calm.

He was laying on his belly and the barest of movements proved his wings were still out. Looking up he caught sight of his eldest brother sitting against the glass doors that led out onto the balcony. He blinked. They were closed.

Scott put down his glass of protein shake. He was dressed in his running outfit, but by the look of it, he hadn’t been out yet.

“How are you feeling?” His brother pushed himself off the floor and took the few steps across the hardwood to crouch down beside Virgil.

How was he feeling?

He had obviously slept in the same position all night and the smallest of movements let him know all about it.

Another groan gave him away as he let his forehead drop to the pillow again.

“That bad, huh?” A hand landed on his shoulder, fingers gently nudging the fine down of his trapezius. “Can you fold your wings?”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut. Scott was right. Remove the weight of his wings and then attempt the rest.

Movement hurt. The next day was always the worst. Adrenalin gone, abused muscles stiff, bruises fully realised. He grit his teeth.

But this wasn’t the first time.

He lifted his wings off the pillows Gordon had piled there for him and with a groan that crept out between his teeth, he retracted his wings, folded them, and let them go.

All the breath in his body left with a whoosh and he collapsed back into the bed and closed his eyes.

“Better?”

Virgil’s muffled expletive said everything.

Scott snorted. “Okay. Hold that thought. I’ve got just the thing.”

A breath and Virgil let himself drift.

A gentle touch to his mark startled him.

“Hey, relax. Just a little preening oil. Gordon did your wings last night. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to rub a little on sore muscles.” And with that his brother started running gentle circles all over Virgil’s back. His mark tingled at the contact, but it was safe contact, welcome brotherly care.

Care.

The scent of the bathing oil wafted past his nostrils. Scott knew from his own experience where and what hurt in this situation.

Well, not perhaps this exact situation. Virgil couldn’t recall Scott catching Gordon midair before, but there had been that incident with Allie. Their little brother terrifying them all prematurely grey.

It had been Virgil who had administered the care to Scott that day.

Fingers nudged knots and movement into his muscles. It felt good and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

“Thanks, Scott.”

His brother didn’t stop his ministrations. “Anytime, Virg, you know that.”

There was silence for a while after that, Scott methodically and medically working to rub in the liniment. Virgil knew he should move, get up, find where Gordy was…but he found himself paralysed.

Scott knew exactly what he was doing.

Caring, smotherhen, big brother…

-o-o-o-

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next he knew the sun was high in the sky.

He blinked. Everything was quiet – a very unusual situation for the comms room.

Shaking off most of the fog, he pushed himself into a sitting position and was pleasantly surprised when the pain was minimal. It still hurt, but a good percentage of the stiffness was gone. His skin was ever so soft where his big brother had rubbed in oil.

Standing up proved a little more of a challenge, but he got there and worked several of his muscles until they loosened up.

He felt surprisingly good, despite the aches.

All he needed now was coffee.

He shuffled his way across the hardwood floor in his bare feet and down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Virg! You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

Virgil blinked and froze. Gordon, as usual, was far too full of energy first thing in the morning.

“Oh, hell. Coffee. You haven’t had your coffee yet. Sit down, I’ll get you some of your stim juice. Just a moment.”

Gordon started flapping around the kitchen.

Virgil stayed where he was and just stared.

What?

The smell of coffee was suddenly in the air and Virgil felt like floating on it like Pepe Le Pew on a waft of perfume.

“C’mon, Virg, sit down. Coffee’s nearly ready. Want some toast?”

Virgil was notoriously slow in the mornings, but even his morning fog brain could twig something wasn’t right. Gordon was always kind, but this?

“Gordon, what are you doing?”

“Getting you coffee. And breakfast, if you want it.”

His fish brother darted about the kitchen like a guppy swimming in caffeine.

“Gordon?”

“You want sugar?”

“Gordon.”

But his brother wasn’t stopping. With not enough brain cells to work out a different strategy, Virgil resorted to putting himself directly in his brother’s path and grabbing him. “Gordon, stop.”

“What? Why?”

Virgil sighed. It was all too much before coffee. He pulled his brother into a hug. A tight one.

“I’m okay, Gords.”

His brother’s response was muffled against Virgil’s shoulder. Gordon struggled against his hold, so Virgil let him go.

Gordon flung himself away. “Aaargh! You don’t have a shirt on, Virg. Bare skin much?” He stared at his hands. “And oily. Ergh.”

Virgil snorted. “Sorry.” He bit back a grin, but soon lost the fight and ended up chuckling at the expression on his little brother’s face.

Gordon screwed that face up in disgust. “That’s it, you can get your own coffee.”

“Will do.” He reached out and ruffled the fish’s hair.

Gordon batted him away. “Get’orff.”

Virgil sighed, smiling. “Thanks, Gords.”

The fish froze, staring. Something stirred in his eyes. “Anytime, Virg.” He swallowed. “Always.”

Virgil softened even more. “Same.”

They stared at each other a moment longer only for it to be broken by the chime of the coffee machine.

“Ooh, I dare not stand between you and your coffee.” He backed away and then around Virgil as if he was an explosive.

Virgil rolled his eyes and beelined for the coffee machine, because coffee. When he turned around, beverage of the gods in hand, Gordon was gone.

And the warmth in Virgil’s heart had nothing to do with the mug in his hand.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #FishTank #comfort fic

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years ago

Text

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Author’s Note: Well hello my friends! Since hitting 1000 Followers in July (WHAT?! STILL UNBELIEVABLE!!!) I’ve been working on the requests sent in by my amazing troop of readers! This is another one of those stories which I’m pleased to share. As always, help my unending need for validation but re-blogging or liking the story! Also, you can send asks, make your own request, follow me, or be added to my tag-list! Last, @sammy-jo1977 is my beta... and my ride or die home girl! Thanks lady! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader, appearances from most of the Avengers

Summary/ Request: @queenofmischief asked for a story where “Loki and you guys are friends growing up and you realize you like him and try to hide it but somehow at a party or something or another, maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven is involved, it comes out and really hot smut ensues?”

I used some of the ideas you gave me, dear reader, but made it a little more mature, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Lots of 80′s references... music, movies, clothes, etc. References of smut, heavy petting and kissing

ENJOY!

"But, like, I really don't want to go." Your cellphone, pinned between your ear and shoulder, pushed your earring into the tender flesh behind your lobe. It probably didn't help that the jewelry in question was a pair of huge hoops, fluorescent in color and hard plastic.

You heard Wanda sigh, "Yea… I know. It's just, we all are… and you know it'll be worse if you don't show up."

"I really hate it." Using a sing-song voice didn't change the feelings behind your words. Going up to the main floor of The Avengers Tower for a theme party was not a thrilling idea.

"I know you do-", pulling open the door between your room and hers, you palmed your phone, frowning at your friend, "-But you look great!"

"Radical… or wicked… or tubular would be more 80's appropriate." Still, her compliment made you smile. It really was a great outfit, totally encapsulating the MTV generation's vibe, complete with hot lime colored leg warmers.

Your cropped REO Speedwagon t-shirt was cut off at the neck, dripping low enough to expose one whole shoulder, and a wide stripe of the magenta colored tank top underneath. Having tucked the camisole into your acid washed denim micro miniskirt, you finished the ensemble with a pair of black pumps, and the obligatory scrunchie of cheap yellow satin. It pulled your hair into a low, side ponytail.

For makeup you'd painted your eye-shadow on, bright turquoise with pink under your brows. Lipstick in a shimmery rosy hue brought extra attention to your lips. And you stored your cell phone, lip gloss and keys in your iridescent fanny pack.

Wanda couldn't help giggling at the sight of you and your collection of clashing colors. For her look tonight she'd dawned a pair of skin tight leggings, an over-sized button down shirt with a stretchy black belt that was about four inches wide. Ballet flats, teased out hair and stark makeup had Wanda looking like a video vixen. It was impressive.

"See, you went sexy… and I went silly." Pouting now, you flopped onto your bed, "Can I just not?"

Sitting down next to you, patting your knee, "You don’t look silly, but you do look like you could be a hair band groupie! That’s sexy!” Shrugging your shoulders, unconvinced, Wanda added, “Besides, tonight… It may be fun. And, worse case? You get blitzed like a teenager on prom night."

"No… that's not the worst case. Worst case? He's there."

Sighing, Wanda shook her head, "He does still rub you the wrong way, huh? And, yes, he may be there… but-" standing, taking you with her, "-it would be a shame to waste all your wicked cool work!"

Hearing her use the dated vernacular made you grin. She was right. Tonight could be a blast, if you were able to get out of your head. Jumping off the bed, unsettling one of those fashionable leg warmers, you hugged your friend tightly. You could do this. You wouldn't be alone. And if Loki was there, he'd just have to get over it. You weren't going to pay him any attention.

---

"Mr. Loki… can we please go? We're already stupid late."

Bending to straighten his red suspenders, Loki smirked at himself, "Greed is good."

Sighing, exasperated and edging into anger, Peter pulled open the front door, "I don't know what that means, but you look… greasy."

"Like I could steal your company in a corporate take over? Maybe steal your woman too", Loki questioned, excited at the idea.

Crossing his arms over the red puffy vest he had bought specifically for tonight, Peter grunted, "Uh… I… I guess. I meant more like one of the assholes in Wolf of Wall Street."

God, you had better be there tonight. Loki was putting a lot of hope on Stark’s little shindig and he wanted to make sure that all of the little details were absolutely perfect, giving him every advantage. Standing now, slicking back his long dark hair, "That, my young spider friend, is exactly what I am going for… Evil 80′s CEO."

"Great."

Loki heard the frustration in the young man’s voice. Someday he would understand, Loki thought, turning to the youthful Avenger beside him, "You certainly make a dashing Marty McFly, Peter. Truly."

"Aw! Really, Mr. Loki? Ya mean it?" That made the Spider Boy preen, popping his collar, and standing a little straighter.

"I do! Now-" flashing a rakish smile to his reflection as he passed, "-let's get upstairs and see how everyone else is doing!"

---

Everyone else was ready to party. The last mission, a particularly difficult one, involved Hydra agents banging it out against our heroes along the rough terrain of the polar ice cap. Draining the physical and emotional resources of everyone, including you and Loki, Tony had planned a little party to kick off a period of rest and relaxation.

As soon as the elevator opened you knew it was going to be an insane night. Everything was brightly lit. Paper streamers were strung up haphazardly along the walls and ceiling. Big plastic buckets of chips and cheese curls were put out on the counter along with a huge punch bowl that reeked of rum and sugary fruit juice. On the floor in the kitchenette was a garbage can, freezing, full of ice, only the keg tap visible. A stack of red plastic cups was at the ready.

Someone had ordered pizza. Well, dozens of pizzas. The boxes were piled along the table already crammed with pretzel bags and Doritos.

Steve was being instructed on the basics of Beer Pong and, you decided, definitely being hustled by Sam. Bucky looked on with curiosity, quietly sneaking closer to the chips and dip, hoping no one would notice. Rhodey was watching them both through the reflective lenses of his aviator shades, doing a great job of looking like a Top Gun cadet, including the tight jeans and broken-in bomber jacket. Grinning as he drank down a bottle of beer, Rhodes shouted, "Hey Stank! Is all of this really necessary?"

"Don't come for me Rhodey!" Wearing a pair of neon leopard spotted knit pants, a green polo shirt and white sneakers, Tony was clutching a glass bowl filled with little slips of paper to his chest. No one had managed to figure out what they were or why he held them. Drinking two beers from his plastic, can holding helmet, Tony would answer only with a slightly slurred, "It's my trashy 80′s party and I do what I want!"

And Tony had thought of everything. Sounding like a mixed tape pulled from the radio, the tunes didn't let up! Ratt, Foreigner, Cindi Lauper, Madonna and Tom Petty all took turns blasting through the room. So many hits from the past pumped through the sound system, getting people on their feet and keeping them there. You were swinging and swaying along, having a blast, but when Bon Jovi hit the group of Intergalactic Warriors went wild.

Clint, rocking a mullet wig and a vest with no shirt, jumped onto a table making the motions of an air guitar champion. Singing into a beer bottle like it was his microphone, "Whoooooaaaa we're halfway there…"

Guffawing, you hid behind your Bud Light filled cup, already red cheeked from the non-stop laughing and alcohol in your system. At some point you had given up Wanda to Vision in a varsity jacket, doing his best jerk-off jock impression, and not quite pulling it off. It wasn't his fault that he was too polite to put people down in the way of Eighties movie bad guys. Alone, feeling flushed, but happy, you needed a break and some quiet. Flinging yourself onto the soft sofa, watching the frat house style antics unfold all around, you couldn’t help laughing. Tony always found a way to knock the group out of their post mission funk. Sometimes that meant week long Caribbean vacations and sometimes that meant dressing up in retro attire and scream singing with a cold beer in your hands. Either way, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, and the pictures were certainly worth framing. The couch dipped as someone joined you. Swiveling, not quite drunk but not quite sober, you couldn’t help the groan that left you. “Oh. It’s you.”

Not exactly the response Loki wanted, he was just grateful that you spoke to him at all. Lately you seemed to flee any room he entered, a hurt and heavy sigh escaping you before you'd make your exit, never looking back. Loki couldn't understand why.

After all, it had been two months since that night. The one where he'd stumbled on you, glowing blue in the light of the television set, alone and in the darkness. You asked him to join you, he had accepted.

The movie was called "Say Anything" and Loki had to admit, as far as romance on film went, this story was very moving. But that was an unexpected bonus to being so near to you. Before the credits rolled, you had burrowed against him, snuggled under his arm with your head on his chest.

Stroking your hair, Loki pressed a kiss to your forehead, thoughtlessly, naturally. Pushing away, looking up at him through hooded lashes, "You… you kissed me?"

Words failed the silver tongued devil, something he still pondered all these weeks later, so a nod was all you got for a response. Kneeling, your sleep shirt riding over your thighs, Loki watched your small hand rising to cup his cheek. Feeling your lips against his own was the beginning of the best night of his life.

And then, nothing. It was like a switch had been thrown and no matter how many ways he tried to reach out for you, Loki wasn't able to connect. Not like that night.

So, he was going against his nature tonight. Joining the group, drinking a bit of his brother's mead, wearing a dated but pristine business suit. All done in the vain hope that something would shift in his favor.

He had already lost too many nights to memories of you. Soft, full skin under his broad palms. The tiny moan you exhaled when Loki’s tongue met your own. How your wet, willing body accepted him, without question or stipulation. And in the afterglow, when your head rested in the crook of his neck and your cherry cola scented breath circled him, you let Loki hold you close.

But he buried it all. Tonight he was the embodiment of all things slick. Nothing could stick to him; not when he had a goal in mind and this much gel in his hair. Loki Odinson would be taking you home tonight, come hell or high water. Wolfish, Loki’s grin was wicked, “Yes. Your dream has come true.” Sitting back, he crossed his designer suit covered knee at the ankle, exposing socks with little golfers on them. He let his right arm rest along the back of the sofa, not around you… not yet, but inching closer. “What is that cologne you’re wearing?” “Don’t you like it? I’m told Drakkar Noir was quite the scent of the 80′s. I did my research.” Twisting, you looked him over, impressed despite yourself. The suit was totally of its time. Black, pinstriped and you were sure the jacket that came with it was draped somewhere safe. His shirt was shiny but soft and bright, blinding white. Suspenders of red matched the tie that draped down the center of his chest. With his hair combed straight back and held in place with some kind of product, Loki looked like he was capable of eating a six course lunch at Sardi’s, complete with dirty martinis, then jetting back to the office in time to defraud a corporate spending account. The kind of executive that blackmails a co-worker with pictures of a mistress. The kind of douche bag that tries to take over a rec center to build a mall. In short, an avarice little asshole. So, why was it so hot? “It’s… overpowering.”, boy, was that an understatement. Loki’s whole aesthetic was overpowering right now. And, was he moving closer? His bent knee brushed against your own as he leaned near enough to be heard at a whisper, “You look adorable, you know that?” Scrunching into the corner of the couch, eyeing him suspiciously, “Oh? Really?” “Really.”, his hand brushed over your exposed shoulder, making you jump at his touch.

Uh uh. No way. You would not be so easy to seduce this time around. Even if those wide hands sent goosebumps growing all over your body, Loki would not charm his way into your panties again. Not like last time.

It had been spontaneous. Genuine, at least for you. And in the moment, it felt like Loki had given you a little piece of himself, a tenderness that no one else ever saw in the far flung Frost Giant.

Maybe that's why Clint's words hurt so much. He had told you so casually, holding up a spoonful of Cheerios, "Loki said his last girl was a drag. Basic bitch? Is that what the kids say?"

Thinking about it now made your heart hurt. You had given yourself to someone who thought you were beneath him. Loki couldn't want you. You would never be good enough.

But that night haunted you. His soulful kisses that stole your breath. The drag of Loki’s hands over the swell of your bottom as you straddled his hips. His solid chest under your own hands, dark head curved against the couch cushion, but those burning eyes never leaving your face. “I thought you said I was plain. Simple. Boring.”

Leveling his own words back at him made Loki straighten in his seat. How could you think that? Unbalanced, stammering, “Uh… I… I’d never…” “Never expected me to find out? I believe that. And, let me tell you this-” Pushing yourself up with the help of the couch’s arm, you rose on unsteady legs, “-I’m not nearly drunk enough to fall into your arms again.” Spinning away, you made a dash towards the people in the kitchen, without looking back. Watching you go, Loki could do nothing but stare after your retreating form, flummoxed.

“That was… painful.”

He knew that voice well enough, frustrated, confused and unfit for company, “Go away, Tony.”

“I don’t think I will. In fact-” sitting down in your empty spot, patting Loki’s knee, “-I’m going to make myself comfortable. Now, tell Uncle Tony all about it.”

Rolling his eyes, unable to find you in the crowd, Loki risked a sideways glance at his replacement companion. Was he really going to indulge in this? Tell his almost friend about you… about your one night together? Loki raked his hands through the pomade in his hair, growling low, “If you breathe a word of it Tony, I’ll-” Lowering his wrap around sunglasses, peering at Loki, Tony smiled, “Your secret is safe with me.” ---

Thinking less and less about Loki as the night went on should have been a relief but it seemed like the scent of him followed you everywhere. Unable to get free of him, you busied yourself with drinks, dancing, and munching like you were a kid again. Anything to keep your mind from wandering.

It's not like the party was boring. Not at all! There was plenty to distract you and you let it. Natasha made you her partner for beer pong and somehow you successfully won against Rhodey and Sam.

Next, Wanda needed you, which is how you wound up sitting on the bathroom sink listening to her go on about Vision in that wistful, loving way that made your own heart ache. Being a little drunk, you had to fight the urge to cry because you were lonely and hurting. “I saw you talking to Loki… what was that about?” She was reapplying ruby red lipstick, studying herself in the mirror, not looking directly at you.

Wanda's voice cut through your self doubt spiral though, something you were thankful for, and with a casual tone you countered, “He was trying to get something started, I think.” Eyebrows lifting, Wanda’s interested piqued, “Really? Loki was hitting on you?” “Yea… I mean, I think so. Was coming on awfully strong too. But… he’s been a jerk, right?”

Wanda cleaned up her eye make-up taking a minute, after washing her hands she looked at you, “I mean, he is here.” “So?” “So, you know he’s not really a joiner. More of a lone wolf. In fact, I think this may be the first of these little parties he’s come to. Maybe he’s changed… grown a bit? And, honestly, you never asked him about-”

Hopping off the counter, cutting her off, more than a little huffy at her good sense, “No, I didn’t and I don’t plan to. Loki thinks I’m a bore? Too basic for him? Fine. I have better things to do with my time.” Laying her hand on your shoulder, Wanda stopped you, eyeing you in the mirror once more, “I know his words hurt… but you’re going to have to clear the air eventually. Especially if we’re all going to work together.”

Shrugging, you offered your friend a small smile. There was truth in her sentiment, even if your slightly drunken brain rebelled against hearing it, “Yea, you're right… plus-” looking around the small washroom, just to make sure no one could hear the pair of you, “- he looks really hot tonight!”

Giggling, Wanda hugged you close, “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yea he does!” The pair of you were still laughing together, standing at the back of the crowd as Tony turned down the music, announcing, “Gather round children, Uncle Tony needs your attention!” There were a few groans, mostly from the beer pong table, as apparently Bucky was unhappy about forfeiting his winning match. Everyone else, in all their high haired glory, were congregating near their host, curious and more than a little drunk.

“Tony, what the hell, man? You killed the tunes!”, Clint shouted, spilling Bud Light foam as he joined the tightening circle. “Patience, my drunk friend. You all remember this?” From the table nearby, Tony picked up his glass bowl, triumphant, “Our Destiny!”

Pepper, sighing with a smile, “So dramatic!” Shaking the bowl in her direction Tony smirked, “Ok smarty, then you pick first. Go on… Pick!” There were oohs and ahhs from the assembled Avengers. Rolling her eyes, Pepper reached in, grabbing the first slip her fingers found. Pulling it free, she grinned, eyeing Tony, “It says ‘Loki’...” Hearing his name, Loki snapped his head up, surprise registering on his face, “Excuse me?” Holding it up for his examination, Pepper waved the slip under the regal nose of the junior Odinson, “See… your name.” “Yes, but why?”

Butting in, Tony snatched the scrap from the hand of his lovely fiance, practically dancing with glee. Turning to Loki, “Now you, Gordon Gecko, pull a slip.” Aware of all eyes locked on him, Loki reached into the jar, digging around a little more than necessary. Finally satisfied, the thin paper pinched between his fingers, Loki opened the folded note. When his fierce gaze met yours, you knew without a doubt. It was your name he had grabbed. Throwing a thick arm across Loki’s broad shoulders, Tony hugged him close, “Well? What’s it say?” It all made sense in that moment. The tacky costumes, flat beer and endless music. A drunken moment of clarity had descended. Tony, waving his arms, eating up the crowd’s reactions, heads turning to gauge your response. Swallowing hard, your hearing failing you, you just faked a smile. You and Loki were going into the closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Only there was no way you were going to do that. Not after what he’d said. Not after your one night together, right? But you felt a gentle hand pushing your forward, into the center of your circle of friends and for some reason, your feet followed.

Refusing didn't enter your mind. With everyone ogling you and Loki, making a scene would only cause more speculation, something you weren't keen to do. Instead, you stepped next to Tony, outwardly eager to play along.

You just shouldn't have dared to look at your proposed make out partner. Laser focused, Loki’s lusty look hadn’t wavered. No, the light in those thundering blue eyes was carnal, darker than you had ever seen, matching your own. Against your better judgement, you wanted Loki, too.

Whatever Tony was saying was a blur, merely sounds, because you were utterly stunned by the nearness of Loki. The roaring laughs of the rest of the group were drowned out by your pounding heart. A door opened to a dim room, the pantry maybe? You didn’t know and in that moment you didn’t really care.

With a small smile, Loki ducked into the cupboard, lacing his fingers with yours, offering a bit of his strength. Dragging you inside, your body pinned between a shelf of snacks and the hard body of your frenemy, a whimper of want passed your lips. Loki still smelled so good and now he was so close. “Have fun you two!”, Tony’s words were accompanied by the door shutting you and Loki inside, in the dark. Surrounded by silence, Loki’s sharp pants were the only sound louder than your racing pulse, which was saying something. Afraid to move, afraid of spooking you, Loki struggled to search your stare in the low light. He had already experienced your angry dismissal of his attention tonight. It wasn't something he wanted to relive, not when you were so close with sweet and speedy breath, your chest brushing against his own at each exhale.

Lifting a hand, grazing over your uncovered shoulder, Loki's touch was electric. You moved towards it, towards him, needing more of his energy. Craving it.

Bold in the dark, you grabbed at Loki’s suspenders, tugging him closer. Rising on your toes, covering some of the distance between your mouth and his, you pressed a hot kiss to those soft, pink lips. Under your fluttering fingers Loki shivered, "Darling-"

"Shut up. I… I don't care."

"But I never…"

"I told you. I don't care. Now kiss me like you mean it, because we only have about six more minutes!"

Not needing any more encouragement, Loki found the flare of your hips in the shadows, molding your curves to the rigid planes of his body. Desperate, needy, you felt his tongue move against your own. Want, plain and simple, led your own fingers to the collar of Loki’s starched shirt and the tangle of his raven hair. Fisting it, tugging against those luscious locks, you couldn’t seem to get close enough to the tall God sharing your cupboard. Whining, his name on your lips, you drew Loki tight enough that the press of your breasts was edging towards pain. Demanding, true to your word, with every pass of Loki’s magical mouth over your own the last few weeks were forgotten. Hungry for more, Loki roughly squeezed the flesh of your ass, grinding you against his wool blend covered crotch. Stuttering, his arousal was so stiff, for a minute Loki worried about making a mess. But that feeling was replaced with unbridled ecstasy when your lips found the tender skin below his ear.

A nip, enough to make Loki hiss, was soon soothed by your sucking on the same spot. Resting your butt on the nearest shelf, you didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to reach the soft, sweet sections of Loki where you longed to lavish attention. He took advantage of your new position by sliding a free hand along the swell of your separated thighs. “I just need to feel you, dove. I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.” It was a husky whisper, directly into your ear, and it sent an arc of icy fire to your core. When his long fingers skimmed over the silky slick of your panties you moaned in unison, bucking into Loki’s touch, lost in the moment. Stepping between your legs, Loki took one of your hands into each of his own, pinning you wide open against the boxes of cereal and granola bars that lined the pantry walls. Devouring you slowly, Loki kissed along the column of muscles at your throat, across the exposed line of your clavicle. You could do little more than take his delicious torment as more and more of your sweat dappled skin was serviced by his silver tongue. “Yes… Loki…”, tumbling out of you, just like the night when you first came together, you crooned his name in delight. Breathless, boneless and broken with need. CLICK! The sound made you both freeze. Snapping swiftly, Loki’s head swung towards the door where the bright light and noisy crowd of the party was intruding into your private pantry. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! What do we have here?” Swinging into the tight space, Tony’s shrewd look took in the scene in seconds, “What were you two doing in here? It was a very quiet seven minutes!” Straightening to standing, Loki stood, blocking you from sight as you readjusted your clothes. Smoothing down his tangled strands, sarcasm dripping, “Talking. Very quietly.” When he was sure you were decent, Loki offered you his hand, and blinking you stepped back into the wild and raucous party still in full swing. Tony, flashing a knowing grin your way, nodded, “I hope you didn’t smush the chips! We still need those!” Giggling, you locked onto Loki’s arm, letting him lead you towards the keg and away from the shouted questions of your friends. You knew there was no mystery about what happened in those seven minutes. Hair mused, makeup smudged, lips swollen and shirts twisted, the pair of you were walking neon signs for getting to third base.

Silently Loki poured you a beer, taking a small glass of Asgardian mead for himself, before raising his glass your way. Returning his gesture, you downed the frothy ale fast, feeling a little parched after your spit swapping time in the hall closet. Boring into you, his eyes followed each of your movements, searching for a sign of your feelings. Dropping your empty cup on the counter, you turned and jumped onto the marble ledge, feet dangling. “Loki?” Placing his own glass down gently, Loki took his position between your bent knees, looking down at your darling face, “Yes?” “Did you say those things? That I was… boring? Basic?” Shaking his dark waves no, Loki bit into his bottom lip, “Never. What I said was, my last girl, ages ago, was those things… but my new lady-” tracing along your jaw, tipping your chin his way, “-she is everything I could ever want.”

“Am I… am I your new lady, then?” With a fierce flicker of fire in his eyes, Loki nodded yes this time, “Absolutely.” Leaning into him, arms around his neck, you tugged him down to meet your waiting lips. “Good. Good to know. Because I think I’m going to watch a movie tonight.” “Really? I recall really enjoying the last one.” “Hmm… me too.” Sliding off the counter, ducking under Loki’s long arms, you turned back to face him, “My room… say, an hour?”

Snapping his suspenders, smirking, “I’ll be there.” Watching you skip away made Loki’s pulse pound in anticipation. Pouring himself another glass of clear liquor, he chuckled, amazed at the change seven minutes had created.

“You’re welcome.” “Ah! Yes, many thanks Tony.”

Leaning against the counter, Tony knocked into Loki’s shoulder, “You’re cute together, Rock of Ages, but don’t make me regret helping you tonight! Treat her right.”

“Of course. I... truly, thank you.”, sincerity seeped from Loki at the favor from Tony. “No worries! No worries!” Waving away any additional gratitude, Tony looked over the group of half cocked, and totally cocked heroes before him, “Of course the real bitch was getting Pepper to pull your name from the bowl…”

My Marvelous Minxes tag-list: @queenofmischief @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @is-it-madness @jenjen8675309 @alexakeyloveloki @poetic-fiasco

#loki x reader #loki x you #hot loki #loki smut #loki love #1000followers #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #80's #80's loki #80's mcu

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puppywritings · 4 years ago

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sometimes they come back - qian kun (ft. huang renjun, dong sicheng, wong yukhei & johnny suh)

⇢ synopsis: kun was distraught when he lost his brother sicheng at a very young age. sixteen years later, he’s moved on from his trauma and made a living as a high school literature teacher. however, with the entrance of a troubled young student, along comes reminders of his brother’s gruesome end and somehow, kun feels a daunting link.

⇢ word count: 9.3k ⇢ trigger warnings: swearing, nightmares, trauma, mental illness, death of a family member, demons, blood, murder, one instance of semi-graphic gore.

⇢ a/n: so this is the longest thing i’ve ever written and i worked pretty damn hard on it. quick disclaimer that although i made renjun very evil i still love him ❤️ (and evil renjun is kinda sexy but u didn’t hear that from me) anyways this story definitely fits in the horror genre and may be disturbing for younger readers!! based on stephen king’s short story sometimes they come back but deviates from the actual plot. see the trigger warnings above and proceed with caution.

⇢ part of @takitaro and @starryqian‘s stephen king collab! thank u for allowing me to be part of such a fun project:)

⇢ taglist: @badwithten @sandaigdigan-reads

masterlist

Sunday.

The clock read 03:26 when Qian Kun woke up from his nightmare, panting and covered in sweat. Long ago, this was a familiar occurrence. Long ago, it was strange if he didn’t wake up like this. But, long ago, this all ended. It had been fourteen years since the nightmares stopped - so why were they happening again now?

Shaking, Kun got out of bed and trudged downstairs to the kitchen in the house where he lived alone, and had done for many years now. He flicked the switch to boil the kettle; there was no way he was getting back to sleep any time soon. His toes tapped anxiously on the tile floor while he sat at the table, picking at a hangnail on his left thumb. Why now, all this time after he had recovered, was he being forced to relive his brother’s murder as he slept?

The kettle boiled with a click, and Kun jumped. He huffed, hand on his chest, and went to prepare his drink. Coffee, black. He couldn’t take anything light or sugary, not that night. The sharpness of his beverage bit at him, and it was what he needed - a sensory distraction from the images currently filling his mind. His brother Sicheng, just thirteen years old; the light leaving his eyes as he went limp in Kun’s arms; the blood flooding out of his stab wound, bathing them both in crimson; the greaser gang dispersing, leaving Kun alone to yell, bawl, and beg. Kun shuddered, swallowing back nausea. God, he wanted to forget. But he knew he never could.

(Timeskip - 16 years earlier)

The weather had been fair on the afternoon that Kun lost his brother; the sky was blue, cloudless, and the air was practically alive with all the opportunities for young boys to find fun. The afternoon had begun much like any other. The young Kun and Sicheng, revolting against the idea of spending any time inside while the sun was shining, had set off towards their favourite diner, just a few blocks away. Kun remembered every detail exactly - he had relived the event every time he fell asleep for years afterwards - his brother’s bright blue t-shirt, the freckles scattering his cheeks, the frayed laces in his favourite sneakers. Sicheng was still small at thirteen years old, not yet having hit that growth spurt he was waiting for. In their neighbourhood, plagued with crime, bullies, and greaser gangs, Sicheng’s size put him at a disadvantage. Kun, though not huge himself, always felt protective over his younger brother, and had gotten into many a fistfight in his defence. That fated day felt perfectly normal, up until the moment they turned onto the diner’s street.

Fourteen-year-old Kun sighed. Swarmed around the entrance of their beloved diner was a group of greasers, complete with coal-black leather jackets and huge, hulking motorcycles.

“Come on, let’s go,” Sicheng said, hands tucked in his pockets. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“No,” Kun said abruptly, and Sicheng looked at him in surprise. “I’m sick of living my life in fear of these idiots. They don’t own the diner - we can just walk right past them and go inside. They can’t stop us.”

“Are you sure? What about little Shotaro?”

This made Kun pause. Everybody knew the story about little Shotaro. In the next town over, a boy a few years younger than them had been beaten to a pulp, almost killed, over a ridiculous turf war that he hadn’t even been involved in. Kun clenched his jaw, angry at the injustice, thoughts of the incident only spurring him on. He had more confidence that day than perhaps ever before.

“They won’t touch us.” Kun truly believed this. The group in question, a few years older than the brothers, had never caused them harm before. The most they had done before was chase them, and once spat on them, which had been an awful humiliation indeed, but Kun didn’t think they’d be bold enough to hurt them - it was all an act, a front to look tough. “Let's go,” Kun said with an edge of determination, and Sicheng followed him closely down the street.

As predicted, the greasers weren’t happy when Kun and Sicheng approached them - far from it. A boy, around seventeen or so, eyeballed the boys as soon as they got close. He scoffed when he saw that they weren’t stopping. “Yo,” he barked. “Diner’s ours today. Turn around.”

Kun puffed out his chest despite his nerves. “No.”

The greaser laughed incredulously, elbowing his buddy in the side as if sharing some ridiculous joke. He turned to Kun and Sicheng, looking down at them as though they were ants on the sidewalk. “Hold up. The fuck did you just say?”

“I said no,” Kun held his ground, fists clenched to keep them from trembling. Kun bravely chanced a look up at the greaser and was unable to read his expression. It was somewhere between disbelieving surprise and rage; his eyebrows were pulled tightly downwards, and his mouth was agape, showing a snaggletooth.

Kun felt Sicheng tug on the back of his shirt, holding onto his brother to ease his anxiety. He spoke up, following his older brother's lead. "We only want to get some milkshakes," he spoke with a tremor to his words. "Let us in."

There were sniggers and sneers from the group of greasers. "No means no, kid. Get lost," the ringleader spoke, leaning in close to Sicheng where he stood huddled behind Kun. "Before I make you wish you were never born. You don’t wanna fuck with me today."

Kun scoffed. "You wouldn't hurt us."

The ringleader raised a skeptical eyebrow at Kun, before stepping back, rolling up the sleeves of his leather jacket. "Grab him, boys."

Before Kun had the time to process the instruction, a pair of arms grabbed him from behind. He pulled, trying to break free, but it was to no avail. With the older boys being bigger and stronger, Kun's struggles were useless. Terror flooded his system; he had been wrong. The greasers weren't afraid to hurt him. They hadn't even hesitated. He had gravely misjudged their threat levels. As Kun grappled with the older boys, Sicheng watched. As if in slow-motion, Kun saw a fist, tightly curled, thrusting towards him, marked with a dark birthmark.

He heard the crack in his jaw before he felt the blinding pain. The pain was white-hot; it spread throughout his face, scalding his bones and making him groan. The greaser hit him again, and again, busting his nose. Kun felt dizzy with the pain, and his vision blurred.

"Let him go!" Kun heard Sicheng stick up for him as he went limp in the greasers' iron hold. "Let him go, you… y-you…"

The greaser laughed. "Spit it out, kid."

"You bitch!" Sicheng managed, almost panting with the effort.

Kun looked up to see the greaser gaping - Sicheng had managed to genuinely shock him. There was a fire in his eyes that Kun noticed despite his hazy vision. Still detained, Kun watched as the greaser reached into his leather jacket. He saw a silver flash, and naively wondered why he would wield a comb in such a threatening way.

It wasn’t until Sicheng was on his knees, crouched over and clutching his abdomen, that Kun realised it hadn’t been a comb.

“Jesus Christ,” gasped the greaser holding Kun back. He stepped back, releasing Kun, who fell onto his hands and knees.

“S-Sicheng,” Kun gasped, unable to breathe. Sicheng’s blood poured onto the pavement, and Kun felt it on his hands, warm, as he crawled towards his brother. Distantly, Kun noticed the crowd of greasers disperse, fast, but all he could focus on was Sicheng.

“Ambulance-” Kun choked out, unsure who he was calling to. “Somebody get an ambulance!”

Kun caught his brother as he collapsed, wheezing. “Sicheng, no- I- you can’t-”

Sicheng’s eyelids were heavy and they struggled to remain open. Kun knew it was too late - there was too much blood on the ground, on Kun. Sicheng went limp in his arms, his eyes went glassy. Kun screamed.

Kun suffered from a dark and heavy grief after losing Sicheng. The world seemed bleak and pointless for some time. He couldn’t understand why he was being made to live in this world, a world without his brother and best friend. What cruel hands of fate would ever take away such a young, innocent life? Plagued by nightmares, Kun trudged through the next few years.

However, as is inevitable when it comes to the resilient nature of mankind, Kun managed to move on. He went to therapy, vanquished his demons, and held Sicheng close to his heart. He stepped out of the shadow that grief had cast upon him, and vowed to live a better life than the one Sicheng had, the one that was cut far too short. He worked hard, went to a good college, and moved out of the area that was haunted by nightmares of gangs and crime.

Sixteen years after losing his brother, Kun had made quite a life for himself. He taught literature to wealthy children at a prestigious private school. The school was nothing like the one he and Sicheng had attended in their youth. Kun taught the children of politicians, CEO’s, people with money. The students Kun taught were free of leather jackets and motorcycles, and their pockets had never seen switchblade knives. They thrived in an environment that nurtured its students, looked after them and educated them. Kun lived a calm life, a stable life. He went to work each day and there wasn’t a steel-toed boot or studded leather glove in sight. He was in peace -

Monday.

Until that week. Kun rubbed his eyes as he yawned, stretching his legs, stiff from sitting at his kitchen table for such a long time. Not a single nightmare about his brother’s death for fourteen years, and now, out of the blue… Kun had dreamed of Sicheng’s death every night for a week. It was as puzzling as it was concerning. Kun blinked tiredly, looking up at the clock on the wall of his kitchen. He jumped - he had been sitting there all night. He stood, going to his window and pulling back the curtains. It was true; morning light illuminated the dew drops on his lawn, which was littered with small birds twittering away to each other. He put on another pot of coffee; it was only an hour until he had to leave for work.

Kun had had the week from hell. Each dream had been different; in some, Sicheng roared at Kun, blood gurgling from his mouth as he cursed his brother for failing to save him; in others, Kun was stabbed alongside his brother. Some dreams were a perfect replica of the actual events. One thing remained unchanged, though. Kun never saw the face of the attacker. He knew it was just a matter of his brain blocking out details to protect him, but it frustrated him at times. Kun could never hunt the man down, not even if he wanted to. He could walk past the man on the street and be none the wiser.

His house had begun to feel like a prison; he had spent each night either waking in a cold sweat, or sipping coffee at his kitchen table when the threat of nightmares was too daunting for him to even lie down. And he had spent his days recuperating. A dreadful headache had been afflicting him, and he had taken the whole week off work. Now, however, he knew he had to return. Though still exhausted, and with a dull pounding tormenting his head, Kun was very aware of how easy it was to slip back into a depressive slump. He believed that the normalcy of his work environment would soothe him, and that the darkness that had built up in his home could be shed by a nice, regular day at work.

Or so he thought.

Kun felt uneasy throughout his day at the school; there was a darkness hanging in the air, albeit a darkness only himself picked up on. He coasted through the day, serving mediocre lessons and dodging his students’ questions of, “Where have you been, Mr Qian?” and “Were you sick, Mr Qian?”

Something was off. There were dark clouds that lingered at the edges of his vision, always staying in his peripheral, never quite coming into view. There were cold spots that sent chills down his spine, and whispers that were too distant to decipher. Kun tried to brush off his paranoia as a lingering side effect of the built-up sleep deprivation he was facing, but he simply couldn’t deny the fact that something just felt wrong.

All too soon, the school day ended. Students filtered out of the building, and Kun was alone with his thoughts yet again. Resting his forehead on the cool wooden surface of his desk, he allowed himself a very self-indulgent groan, an attempt to release his frustration and restlessness. It didn’t work - not that he actually thought it would. Kun knew that he could use the excuse of catching up on work to remain in his classroom for a good few hours. However there was a limited amount of work he could stay behind to carry out, and he would have to return home soon enough, back to the darkness and the nightmares.

Kun stood, stretching his aching muscles, and idly looked out of his classroom window. Winter was approaching - though only just past four in the afternoon, a grey gloom was already beginning to fall as the sky darkened. He would go home now, he decided. At least there he could set the fire going, change into a warm sweater, and make himself dinner as he worked. Kun donned his favourite brown coat, picked up his worn briefcase, and departed his classroom.

“Mr Qian.” Kun stopped on the way to his car when he heard his name. His head whipped around at lightning speed; one could say he was a little on-edge.

“Principal Suh, hello,” Kun greeted his boss.

“You’re feeling better, I hope?” the principal spoke as he caught up with Kun, who faked a smile and nodded. “Great. I was hoping to catch you tomorrow morning but since I’ve got you now; there’s a transfer student, he’ll be in your first-period class tomorrow. I only feel the need to warn you because…” the principal paused, taking a measured sigh, as if trying to find the best words to use. “Well, he’s a bit of a problem child, it seems.”

Kun nodded and smiled at all the correct intervals, clenching a fist inside his pocket to cope with the frustration of how badly he wanted to get home.��

“Nothing we can’t handle,” the principal continued, “Nothing we haven’t seen before. Rich kid lashing out to get daddy’s attention.” Kun gave a cynical laugh. “Huang Renjun. I’ll give you his file tomorrow morning.”

Huang Renjun.

Kun recognised that name from somewhere. He began to think back, but was pulled sharply from his thoughts by a searing pain in his jaw. It was deeply reminiscent of the injury he suffered from all those years ago, during his brother’s accident; the dislocated jaw he sustained when the wretched greaser had hit him.

“Right,” Kun commented distractedly, plastering that fake smile upon his face once again. “See you tomorrow, Principal Suh.” The man smiled, giving Kun a hearty pat on the back before departing.

Kun hurried to his car. The pain in his jaw was worrying, and it only became more intense with each passing moment. He couldn’t think what could’ve brought this on - surely not repercussions from his previous injury, which had healed fine and hadn’t shown a single problem in sixteen years. He drove home, the ache hanging over him like a thick fog. Once there, Kun fell into his bed, passing out just as the pain became paralysing.

Tuesday, 6:03am

Kun awoke the next morning, feeling as though he hadn’t slept a wink, despite the thirteen hours he had under his belt. Groggily, he brought a hand up to his jaw, rubbing it tentatively. No more pain. That was relieving. Still, even with the lack of pain, he wouldn’t consider the morning particularly pleasant thus far.

Kun had dreamed again that night. Another nightmare replaying Sicheng’s death. This dream, however, had been different from any other before. The faceless entity who stabbed his brother had a name. The name was never spoken, never outright stated, but Kun knew it to be true; his name was Huang Renjun.

Kun sat up, rubbing his tired eyes. He had a bad feeling. Come on, Kun, be rational, he willed himself. This was just his brain feeding the day’s information into his dream. Obviously there was no link between Kun’s new student and the bastard who killed his brother sixteen years ago - obviously. The logical part of Kun’s brain believed this completely. But he had a gut feeling that something was very, very wrong. He couldn’t shake the feeling, and it laid heavy in his stomach like a stone. He couldn’t shake it as he made breakfast, and he couldn’t shake it as he washed his face and dressed for work. It overpowered even the pounding in his head, which was rather powerful itself.

Kun knocked back some painkillers; he couldn’t take another day off, as he had used up all his paid sick days until the end of the semester. Even if he did have another sick day available, Kun didn’t think he would take it. He had a real feeling of dread, entirely surrounding Huang Renjun, transfer student and alleged problem child, guest and visitor to Kun’s nightmares. Call it morbid curiosity, but Kun had to meet the boy. He wondered if these feelings would go away once he met the student. Kun imagined it, all dread and darkness dissipating when he saw that Huang Renjun was just a regular teenage boy, albeit a little troubled.

Maybe it was just the pessimistic devil on his shoulder, but he doubted it. Everything lined up just a little too nicely for his liking - the return of his nightmares, the unshakable feelings of both dread and paranoia, the ache in his jaw, and the entrance of this child. God, Kun felt like a madman, but it truly felt linked to him.

A while later, Kun was still pondering these things as he paced up and down the staff room, clutching his coffee mug a little too tightly.

“Morning, Kun.”

The greeting was innocuous, harmless. But Kun, like a skittish horse, jumped out of his skin and allowed his mug to fall to the ground, shattering. Kun sighed.

“Woah, sorry,” Yukhei apologised, surprised and worried. “Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

“It’s okay,” Kun waved it off with a shaky smile. “Way too much caffeine in my system.”

Yukhei, gym teacher and Kun’s friend, silently helped him clean up the mess. Kun was thankful, and displayed his appreciation with another smile that he hoped seemed genuine.

Kun looked up, after sweeping up some smaller shards, to find Yukhei looking at him inquisitively. “Are you doing okay?” the taller man asked.

“I- Yeah. Yeah, I’m doing fine.” Even to his own ears, Kun didn’t put on a very convincing show.

“Burnout is a real thing, bro. You gotta take care of yourself.”

Kun’s heart raced a little, at the receival of some genuine human concern. He hadn't realised the effect it had had upon him, isolating himself for that week-long period. Kun nodded, trying hard not to tear up. “Thanks, Yukhei.”

“I think Principal Suh was looking for you, by the way,” Yukhei mentioned offhandedly.

The kid’s file - Kun had completely forgotten. In a display of perfect timing, the bell sounded, signalling the beginning of first period.

“Shit,” muttered Kun.

Yukhei gave Kun a supportive pat on the back. “We should have a catch up soon, man. You know where I am if you need anything.”

With that, Yukhei was gone, presumably to teach a class, and Kun followed after him, out into the crowds of tired, blathering teenagers. He supposed he’d just have to read the file whenever Principal Suh was free to contact him.

Kun’s classroom was full by the time he reached it - had he really taken that long? he wondered distantly. His students were a little rowdy despite the early hour, seizing the lack of supervision and taking full advantage of it, chatting to each other noisily. They hadn’t noted his arrival yet, so Kun took the opportunity to stand in the doorway for a moment, unseen and undetected. He glanced around the room, and his eyes fell upon his new student easily.

Huang Renjun. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Where his classmates dressed appropriately in the uniformed navy blazers, Renjun wore a very prominent black leather jacket. Kun swallowed nervously. The boy was facing away from Kun, speaking to his peers, but he knew it was him. Taking a shaky breath, Kun stepped into his classroom, pushing through the panic brought on by one of his triggers. The leather jacket, far too reminiscent of his youth and the traumas he endured there, had had a profound effect on him, but he had the necessary coping mechanisms to deal with it. He inhaled deeply, paused, and exhaled.

Kun cleared his throat as he entered the room, and the chatter quietened. “Excuse me,” he spoke, his voice clear and bold, pointedly avoiding looking at the boy. “I know you’re new here, but you can’t wear that in class.” Still keeping his gaze away from the student, Kun removed his coat and pressed the power button to boot up his computer.

Huang Renjun remained silent, although another student, Haeun, spoke up. “What are you talking about, Mr Qian? He’s wearing the uniform.”

Kun blinked, finally taking another look at Renjun. The boy had turned around and was, in fact, complying entirely with the uniform code. Blazer included. No leather jacket to be seen. A few students snickered at Kun’s mistake. Luckily, he knew he wouldn’t get mocked too much; most of his students respected him highly. He was well-liked, generally. They would let this mistake pass.

Renjun wasn’t looking at Kun. His gaze was pointed straight down towards his desk, face hidden behind long bangs.

“Oh. Right. I apologise, it must’ve been a trick of the light.” Kun gave a sincere apology. Though he was paranoid, exhausted, filled with dread, he wasn’t going to forego his manners.

“No worries, sir,” Renjun forgave him easily. He sounded like a regular teenager, Kun thought, although he wasn’t sure what else he expected. The student looked up at Kun, using his hand to flick his hair out of his face. Kun noted the mark on his hand, the dark birthmark. He began to feel dizzy; he knew that mark.

Out of nowhere, Kun felt that pain again - that white-hot, blinding bite in his jaw. It reached out its burning tendrils, spreading all throughout his face. Kun stepped back, staggering almost, as he cupped his jaw apprehensively. Kun was still looking at Renjun, who moved his stare, looking directly into Kun’s eyes.

Renjun’s eyes were black. No whites, no iris. Pure, solid black.

Though Kun didn't think it was possible, the pain intensified. Grey spots danced across the classroom as his vision went spotty, fizzling like static on a television. Kun swayed, reaching out to grab the edge of his desk for support but missing it entirely, catching thin air instead. Heavy as a stone, Kun fell to the ground, passing out.

The last thing he saw was Huang Renjun glaring at him, a malicious smile on his face.

Tuesday, 9:53am

Kun's eyes snapped open. The fluorescent lights above his head were harsh, and he winced, blinking. He was lying down; where was he?

"Oh, you're awake. How are you feeling, Mr Qian?" The school nurse, Joohyun. Right. He had passed out in class.

Kun sat up abruptly. Huang Renjun - that piercing gaze, the menacing grin.

Nurse Joohyun spoke to him again. "You passed out during first period. Do you remember that, Mr Qian?"

"Yes," Kun confirmed, rubbing his jaw and reminiscing of the pain prior to his fainting spell. It was now entirely painless. "Migraine," Kun materialised his excuse on the spot, "They've been bothering me lately."

"Ah," Joohyun nodded in sympathetic understanding, talking as she prepared Kun a cup of water and passed it to him. "Nasty things. You should go home and rest for the remainder of the day. Will you be able to drive yourself home?"

"Yes, thank you." Kun didn't realise how thirsty he was until the water passed his lips. He drank it gratefully.

Nurse Joohyun departed, leaving Kun in the quiet once again. He finished his water and left the school with haste. Once in his car, he allowed himself to fall apart a little, unseen. When he threw his head into his hands, he found that he was shaking, trembling. Was this it? Was he going insane?

No. Kun’s mind was sharp. He knew it was still intact. He always had been a logical man, and so he remained. He only believed in what he saw, what he knew to be the complete truth. And even now, when the very truths of reality had become so dark and twisted, he knew that what his mind believed was the absolute truth.

He kept his eyes trained directly on the road, focused straight ahead as he thought. He had to be rational here. In completely untenable circumstances, Kun had to remain tenable. In this utterly illogical situation, Kun had to think logically.

He laid the facts out in front of him: sixteen years ago, his brother was stabbed. He suffered from terrible grief. He went to therapy, grew up, the nightmares went away. He worked hard, got a good job, and moved on. Everything was okay. Right?

Then the nightmares returned. A new student arrived at his school, Huang Renjun. He started getting splitting pains in his jaw, right where that bastard punched him before murdering his brother. The student featured in his nightmares. He had the same birthmark as that killer. Kun made eye contact with Renjun and passed out. And the student had looked at him with that expression, that malicious smile. A look of pure evil.

And so, illigocial, irrational, implausible, untenable as it was, Kun knew it to be true. Sixteen years ago, Huang Renjun murdered Sicheng. And now, sixteen years later, Huang Renjun was a student in Kun’s class, not having aged a day.

Kun was home before he knew it. He went inside, but didn’t rest. He didn’t sleep, didn’t close his eyes for longer than a blink until the next morning.

Wednesday.

Kun felt unsafe in the school. He was angry; how dare this entity make him feel so uncomfortable in his own place of work? He felt the lingering darkness, even when he was surrounded by students and faculty. It smothered him like a blanket of smoke, impossibly heavy and making him choke.

Kun wasn’t teaching Huang Renjun’s class that day. Yet he was still terrified. Paranoia tinged his vision, altered his very perception of reality; every student that entered his classroom was Renjun, until he blinked and they weren’t. Every sudden movement was a punch flying towards his jaw, until he shook himself and there was no threat. He was completely on edge all day.

While Kun was exhausted, he was also overwhelmed with the energies of a thousand different emotions. He was terrified, paranoid, furious, devastated. He couldn’t believe that he was back here, replaying Sicheng’s death in his mind over and over. This piece of shit, this monster - he was here solely to fuck with Kun. And the worst part of it was that he was succeeding. Kun felt defiant. He couldn’t let this thing ruin him. Not for a second time.

Kun looked around. The sun was shining brightly, but he didn’t feel its warm rays. He stepped on a piece of bright pink bubblegum, flattened on the pavement, but his shoes didn’t stick. He looked up; thirteen-year-old Sicheng was looking back at him.

Oh, fuck. Not again.

Kun wished he could grab his younger brother by the arm and march him back home, stopping the imminent events before they even happened. But the picture was already in motion. Before Kun knew it, he and Sicheng were stood before the greaser gang.

“Diner’s ours today. Turn around,” barked the ringleader, Huang Renjun.

Wait, Huang Renjun?

Surely enough, the boy from Kun’s class was in front of him, in all his greaser glory - leather jacket donned, hair slicked back, snaggletooth displayed in a mean snarl. Slowly, the other greasers melted away, ceasing to exist in this dreamland. Even Sicheng evaporated. Only Kun and Renjun remained.

“What the fuck do you want with me?” Kun asked, his voice dripping with equal parts anger and desperation.

Renjun shrugged, smiling smugly. He looked as though he were playing his favourite game. “You’re fun to mess with, Kun.”

“Fuck off,” Kun bit back. “Haven’t you messed with me enough?”

Renjun laughed. And laughed, and laughed. The hideous melody went on for far too long, and Kun winced at the sound. “I’ve barely even begun messing with you, Kun! Wait and see, how depraved you’ll get. People do funny things when you push them far enough.”

Renjun stepped closer to Kun. Somehow, the child towered above him. “And I- Can’t- Wait-” each word was punctuated by a tap on Kun’s nose, “To see what you’ll do.”

Kun tried to slap his hand away, but missed. “You’re sick,” he spat, “You’re a monster.”

“Well, duh,” Renjun scoffed. “You’re just stating the obvious here, Kunny.”

“Get the fuck away from me,” Kun hissed, stumbling backwards. He turned, running down streets that were so familiar yet so distant to him.

“You can run,” Renjun’s voice followed him, “But you’ll never escape.”

Kun woke with a start, panting in his bed. His usual calming mantra of “It’s just a dream,” did nothing that night. Kun knew that it was far more than a petty nightmare. This was real - all too real.

Thursday, 11:12am

Kun had Renjun’s class again that day, and he was determined not to let the child hurt him. He had it figured out, or so he thought; don’t look the kid in the eyes, don’t speak to him, don’t even acknowledge his presence. And then Kun would be safe. This was all a game to Renjun, and Kun would not be playing. He simply would not engage.

The class began relatively smoothly. Though it was late morning, the sun hid behind thick clouds which produced a healthy drizzle, darkening the world and giving the background noise of rain against the classroom windows, pitter patter. Kun worked hard to ignore the heavy weight that hung over him, and the dark energy that Huang Renjun exuded from the back of the room. Nobody else seemed to pick up in it, but Kun sure as hell did. He could've collapsed under its pressure, it was so heavy. But he remained strong, resisting toughly against its darkness.

Kun gripped a paperback tightly in his hand. Macbeth. A text he knew well, and found easy to teach.

"So," Kun explained to his class, "As she desperately tries to rub away this invisible bloodstain, we see Lady Macbeth-"

"Sir." Kun was interrupted by Renjun. He ignored it.

"We see Lady-"

"SIR," Renjun interrupted again, raising his voice.

Kun looked around the classroom. Nobody else seemed perturbed by the boy's yelling, nobody so much as batted an eyelid. They all looked rather bored, staring off into space or doodling in their notebooks. Part of Kun wondered whether anyone else had actually heard what he did.

He gave a level sigh. "What is it?" he answered the boy. Kun refused to speak his name, refused to even look at him. He kept his eyes directed down towards the book in his hands, and he noticed his knuckles turn white with their grip.

"Why are you staring at me?" Renjun's tone was lazy, playful. He was toying with Kun. Driving him to his limit? Daring him to snap?

"I'm not staring at you," Kun responded, remaining calm. It wasn't easy; Renjun's darkness was overwhelming, pulsating in the air, making Kun's head throb. It brought out the worst in Kun. Oh, how badly he wanted to throw the boy across the room. But he wouldn't. He would stay calm.

"Yes, you are," Renjun argued, and Kun could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I'm not," Kun denied.

"You are," Renjun returned.

Kun dropped his book, which fell with a slap onto his desk. "I haven't glanced at you once this whole lesson," he snapped. Kun cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure - if one could consider this shaky state composed. "We see Lady Macbeth's descent into madness. Now, can anyone tell me-"

"Well that's strange."

"Can anyone tell me how-"

"Why are you avoiding me, Kun?"

"Huang, go to the principal's office."

As soon as Kun spoke that name, the deep, dark energy that had been smothering Kun for the past twenty minutes permeated his body, penetrating his very soul. He shuddered. It was dark; so very dark. It was as if by speaking his name, he had let the beast touch him. He had let him inside, he had been infected.

"Fine," Renjun said, standing up. His desk was empty, unlike the students that surrounded him. He had no notebook, no notes. No pencil case, no pens. With nothing to gather, he marched straight to the door.

Kun, in a moment of weakness, or perhaps just a moment of pure stupidity, glanced at the boy for a split second before he slammed the classroom door behind him. A split second was all it took.

Again, Renjun's eyes were fully black. He grinned at Kun, but it was very much unlike the menacing grimace he had displayed a few days prior. His teeth were bared, rows and rows of razor-sharp fangs, needle-like in nature. They were sheer white, polished and shining, piercing Kun's heart from ten feet away.

The door slammed, shutting him out, but that split second was long enough to instill fear in Kun's deepest core, absolute terror. The external darkness eased a little once he was gone, returning to a low hum of evil energy, but Kun was shaking as he resumed the lesson.

As expected, Renjun's behaviour had gone entirely unnoticed by the rest of the class. They didn't even seem disturbed by Kun's raised voice - he was extremely glad about this. He had a deep integral belief that it was wrong to yell at his students. He would have been kicking himself. But he knew Huang Renjun wasn't a student. It wasn't a teenage boy, it was something dark, dangerous. a powerful entity from god-knows-where.

Kun gave his students a task to complete at their leisure, and took a seat at his desk. He gripped the heavy oak, trying to still his shaking hands. Maybe he ought to go back to therapy, he considered. But where would he even start? With the death of his brother? With the return of his nightmares? With the entrance of Huang Renjun.

No, he dismissed the idea. No competent therapist would believe him - he would be sectioned and medicated after a single session. Plus, whatever was going on was solely between him and Renjun; it was completely unseen and unacknowledged by anybody else.

Kun sounded delirious, even to himself. Nothing in science or logic could possibly provide an explanation for what was happening. But he knew it was real. He knew. Huang Renjun was something cruel, something sick. Something that had crawled right out of hell, directly to Kun's doorstep to torture him. He would figure this out, he vowed. He would rid himself of this beast.

Thursday, 3:49pm

The end of the day - Kun had made it. He let himself relax in his desk chair, leaning back and closing his eyes. He had to admit, he was rather proud of himself. Yes, he’d had a minor run-in with the boy, but he’d managed to diffuse the situation and rid himself of the problem. And, more importantly, he hadn’t passed out this time. Kun scoffed at the hilarity of it all - what a ridiculously low standard for a good day, reaching 3pm without suffering a fainting spell. He would go home and treat himself, he decided, by cooking a comforting stir-fried beef dish.

Knock, knock, knock.

Kun sat forwards with a jolt, gripping his desk tightly for some form of stability. He hated living in this near-constant state of fight-or-flight - it could easily be a quiet freshman, coming to ask questions they were too shy to raise in class. It could have been a colleague, a parent, any number of harmless guests. Despite all of the possibilities, Kun’s mind went to the worst place. He was certain he knew who it was. God, don’t let it be him.

The door swung open in a dreadfully slow manner. Pale fingers wrapped themselves around the door, which gave way to reveal none other than Huang Renjun; just Kun’s luck.

“What do you want?” Kun asked the boy, hackles raised.

Renjun didn’t respond. He closed the door behind him, and the click sent shivers down Kun’s spine - what was he doing? Kun could only watch, frozen, as the boy moved. He grabbed a chair from behind a desk, and brought it to Kun’s desk. The shiny metal squealed as it was dragged across the floor, making Kun wince. Renjun sat on the chair backwards, facing Kun and leaning his arms on the backrest. He rested his head on his arms, looking up at his teacher. He was the picture of innocence; wide eyes, a small mischievous smile present on his lips. Kun only sat in silence, waiting for the boy to act. He was action-ready, prepared to bolt (or even fight) should Renjun do anything drastic.

Kun wasn’t sure how many minutes passed before Renjun spoke. Until that point, they had simply been staring at each other, Kun with a panicked look in his bloodshot eyes and Renjun clearly enjoying the effect he was having on the older male. “I’m sorry for upsetting you today,” Renjun said. Kun didn’t reply, only moving his hands to his thighs, digging his nails inwards to ground himself. “Why do you have it out for me?” Renjun spoke again.

To an outsider, the scene would have been simply heartwrenching. Renjun, a very obviously damaged adolescent who had been hurt by the world many times, looking his teacher in the eye and asking why, pleading almost, begging to be treated right for once in his young life. He sounded like a sad, broken young man; innocent, confused, curious.

Kun knew it was a ruse.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kun denied, his voice low and flat. He gathered some papers on his desk and shuffled them. He busied himself, so as not to get lost within Renjun’s dark energy again. If he were to pass out here, completely alone in the classroom, he had no idea what would become of him.

Renjun continued his sad little boy pretense, flashing dark puppy-dog eyes up at Kun. “I didn’t do anything to you,” he cooed. “I’m just a kid, right?”

Kun was certain that Renjun was playing games with him now. He knew that Kun knew. “You’re not just a kid,” Kun snapped, snarling at the boy in front of him. He threw the papers back down on his desk, rolling backwards in his chair to put distance between himself and the child. The sky opened up all of a sudden, rain pouring from the heavens.

“C’mon, don’t be mean,” Renjun drawled. “Play along, Kun. I’m just a kid… Right?”

“I’m going home,” Kun stated abruptly, standing up and preparing to remove himself from the situation. Renjun began to cackle, but Kun did everything he could to shut the boy out. He picked up his briefcase and slung his coat over his arm. A dash of thunder cracked through the sky, and Kun jumped.

“I left you a surprise there,” Renjun spoke, his voice playful.

Kun turned, running out of his classroom and sprinting down corridors. What the fuck had that bastard done to his house? He was barely even aware of the rain once he reached the school’s exit, though it drenched him in a matter of seconds. In the mad dash to his car, his hair fell flat with the rain, sticking to his forehead, and his shirt clung to his body, turning see-through. He rifled through his coat pockets, hunting for his car keys.

To the stray students that lingered after school hours, Kun probably looked deranged. But others’ perceptions of him were the least of his worries at that moment. He had no idea what Renjun was capable of - he had no idea what Renjun even was. A ghost? A demon? Something else? He truly didn’t know. He had to get home, and fast.

Kun was panting when he reached his house, worked up into a complete frenzy of anxiety and agitation. He swung into his driveway hastily, not wanting to lose any precious time perfecting his parking. Half on the driveway and half on his lawn, he stepped out of his car, staggering.

His front door had been completely torn off its hinges. Kun’s hands met his hair, tugging in helplessness. The door itself was laying haphazardly inside the doorway - if you could even call it a door any more. It was in two pieces, ripped apart. Shards of glass and wood were discarded all around. What the fuck had the monster done?

Kun dreaded to think what this looked like to his neighbours. The elderly couple to the left of him must have been terrified to see that beast rip through his house like a hurricane - how had the police not been called yet?

Kun gritted his teeth as he entered his house. He knew he had drawn the curtains that morning, but they had been pulled shut since. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the darkness as he fumbled for the light switch with shaky hands. He almost whimpered when the light flickered on. His armchair had been flipped, and his couch was torn, littered with slash marks, made by a knife or even a pair of claws. Kun looked around the room in horror - this was his home. He felt so attacked, so violated.

His eyes fell upon the mirror that hung above his fireplace, and he was forced to hold onto his ruined couch to save his buckling knees. Scrawled across it, in burning crimson, was his brother’s name, “SICHENG.”

Kun couldn’t breathe. He looked through the letters to his reflection. He looked every bit as distraught as he felt. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, which he supposed he hadn’t, not properly. He looked like a man whose life was falling apart.

His home wasn't a safe place for him any more. Physically nor emotionally. Kun darted around his house, grabbing an old duffle bag and filling it with essentials - a change of clothes, his toothbrush, phone charger. He supposed he didn't need his keys, not when any old stranger could wander inside from the streets. After a moment of deliberation, he threw in his largest kitchen knife too.

Fifteen minutes later, Kun pulled up at a dying establishment, parking his car a little more neatly this time. Elliot Motel read the faded sign, desperately in need of a paint job. The place was deserted - Kun wouldn’t have been surprised to see a tumbleweed rolling past. But it was remote, and it was a place away from his home where he could lay low and hide out until he figured out what to do.

The bored receptionist hadn’t spared Kun a second glance, for which he was grateful. Once in his allocated room, he double-locked the door and pulled the curtains tightly shut. He didn’t even dare turn on the light, for fear of the yellow glow being visible through the curtains. Although it would come as a shock to him if the place even had working electrics. The dark was better; it gave him a sense of anonymity, and it kept the cockroaches hidden from his view.

Kun perched on the end of the bed, resting his head in his hands. He could hear his heart hammering, the pulsating sound rattled around his head and he could feel it. He couldn’t think straight - his only emotion was blind panic. He leapt up from the bed, too much energy to stay seated. He paced back and forth in the dark, almost tearing out his hair in terror.

Hours passed but Kun couldn’t settle. His brain was going a mile a minute, darting from one place to the next. He was frazzled, and he had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do. He was angry, enraged that this demon would fuck up his life and his home like this. He was terrified, and he felt as though he may be ambushed or attacked any minute. He couldn’t think straight. And exactly as the clock struck midnight, the phone in his dingy motel room began to ring.

Kun yelped, the harsh trilling ring boring into his soul and making him jump. He scrambled to the old rotary phone, tightly gripping the handle and pulling it close to his ear. He heard nothing at the other end, other than very faint static.

“Hello?” Kun spoke. His own voice shocked him - he sounded so unstable, like a scared little boy. The same scared little boy who would wake up from nightmares of losing his brother all those years ago.

A rattling noise came out of the receiver. After a few seconds, Kun realised it was the sound of somebody breathing. Even yet ragged breaths, loud and crackly through the ancient telephone. Kun knew exactly who it was.

“I know it’s you, bastard,” he hissed into the phone. He was met with more silence. Kun was furious. This monster was ruining him - look at what he’d turned him into. A grown man, a man who was esteemed and well-respected. Crouched on the floor of a dingy motel, clutching a telephone, his once neat shirt and trousers now rumpled and sticky with sweat. This couldn’t go on any longer, Kun decided.

“Meet me at the school. 3am. We’re ending this.”

Thursday, 2:34am.

Kun was ready. It hadn't been easy - he'd been through hell and back - but he was prepared. He knew what had to be done, and he was willing to do it.

In the hours since the dreadful phone call which had riled him up immensely, Kun had darted all over town.

To the library, where he had left a broken window in his wake (and he could only hope that his makeshift mask would be enough to save him from breaking and entering charges). He had encountered a dusty section he had never noticed before, which was strange in itself. Being a teacher of literature, the library was a place he frequented, though this section he had never happened upon. He was convinced it only bore itself to those in need, but that fact was neither here nor there. He had rifled through the section, leaving pages torn and books scattered, something he never would have done in his normal life. But he did the research he needed to do, and got the exact knowledge he required.

He had driven back to his house, which no longer felt like a home, to pick up one of the few precious belongings of Sicheng's he had left - necessary for the sacrifice. He had paroled the streets, searching for a stray animal. He never would've harmed an animal but the blood of an innocent creature was needed. He pulled though, apologising deeply to the stray dog which yelped and bit at him.

And there he stood, in the middle of his classroom, clutching his duffle bag which was filled with the most mismatched assortment of offerings. Raising Demons, the book which had proven most informative, Sicheng's red woollen scarf, a vial full of dog's blood, the butcher knife from his kitchen. He looked like a hot mess and he knew it; his shirt was untucked, most of the buttons now undone, and he had lost his tie long ago. He was panting, and he couldn't seem to find his breath no matter how long he stood still.

He looked around his classroom. It was empty, but soon that would change - and that wasn't a comforting thought by far. God, he was wasting time, he thought as he stood there dumbly. But where the fuck did he start?

He ran to action, shoving away the desks that surrounded him, creating a clearing in the centre of the room. He threw open the cupboard at the back of the room and pulled out the old stereo that lay dormant in there. He messed with the dials, twiddling them back and forth until static blared out. He flinched at the sound, but it was no louder than the blaring panic that had been reverberating around his skull lately.

Not wanting to waste another minute, Kun sprinted to the front of the room, grabbing a marker pen and setting to work on the floor. As meticulously as he could with his shaking hands, Kun drew a pentagram, tainting the floor of his beloved classroom. He yanked open his duffle bag, trembling as he placed the items around the pentagram. He picked up the stolen novel, Raising Demons, and jumped to the page he had dog-eared.

Well, Kun thought to himself, No time like the present.

He recited the passage, focusing heavily - he couldn’t get a single word wrong. “Dark Father, hear me for my soul’s sake. I am one who promises sacrifice. I am one who seeks vengeance of the left hand. I bring blood in promise of sacrifice.”

A wind picked up in the classroom, dark clouds materialising and flying around the pentagram in a tight circle, a tornado of evil.

Kun had thought he’d witnessed true darkness in the presence of Huang Renjun; he thought he had seen what evil really was. He had been wrong. True darkness, true overwhelming power, true and pure evil, was what he had summoned before him. Renjun was nothing in comparison to this beast. Kun felt sick.

A voice spoke to him, hissing and spitting, from deep within the clouds. It was deep, grating, abnormal. “What do you ask of me?”

Kun looked down towards the ground. He didn’t want to peer too deeply into this void that had materialised - he knew that anything he saw would scar him deeply. Its energy was horrific enough. This wasn’t a sight he wanted to see. He spoke as clearly as he could, raising his voice to the demon. “Rid me of the spirit that plagues me.”

“Then give me what is mine,” the voice rumbled back.

Kun nodded, trembling. He kneeled on the floor, picked up the butcher’s knife. He placed his hand on the floor, all fingers curled under his fist apart from his pinky finger. He closed his eyes, whimpering as he braced himself. Kun raised the knife and brought it down fast. He yelped; the pain was immense, but he knew he hadn’t yet severed the bone. He took a second hit. A third. A fourth. Again, and again. As Kun screamed, the appendage finally detached.

He reopened his eyes, recognising the blood splattered across the floor as his own. He used the knife to nudge the detached appendage into the pentagram, his nausea intensifying. Blood was spurting from his hand at an alarming rate, and he clutched it close to his chest.

The voice spoke again. “It will be done.”

Kun looked to the clock in his classroom, just as it turned 3. Renjun appeared in the doorway with that now-familiar evil smile on his face. Kun’s vision was spotty, but he could still see Renjun’s grin fall instantly. He couldn’t read the expression on the thing’s face. It could have been rage. It could even have been fear.

“No,” Renjun roared. “What have you done?”

The tornado picked up, and Kun flew flat on his back with the intensity of the wind. A pinprick of light spawned in its centre and Kun had to shield his eyes from it, hiding in the crook of his elbow while his other hand was still clamped close to his chest.

“No! No! Fuck you, Qian Kun!” Huang Renjun shrieked, until… silence. Everything was still. Kun sat up, dizziness wracking his senses. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, he felt something similar to calm. The room was quiet, still, and empty, save for himself. The demon he had summoned was gone. Huang Renjun was gone. The quiet disoriented him; he felt like it had been a while since he truly experienced quiet.

Kun picked up his knife once again and cut along the bottom of his shirt, wrapping the material tightly around his stub of a finger in an attempt to slow the bleeding. He felt faint - he knew he’d lost a substantial amount of blood. He stood, staggering out of his bombsite of a classroom and stumbling into the hallway. He bent, heaving onto the floor, bile burning his throat and mouth. He probably needed to get to a hospital, but how would he explain himself?

Kun felt a pat on his back - a warm, comforting gesture. Wiping saliva from his mouth and chin, he looked up, and found himself staring into a pair of friendly brown eyes, surrounded by aged wrinkles. Something inside Kun simply knew that he was a kind figure, a peaceful figure.

“It’s gone now, son,” the old man spoke, his voice croaky. Kun merely stared at him, wide-eyed, as he talked. “I’ve had students like that one before. They feed on your energy, eat away at you. Look into your past to find the best way to torture you. But it’s gone now. It’s gone.”

Kun stood up straight, or as straight as he could manage in his current condition. He didn’t recognise the teacher standing before him. “Who are you?” he panted, squinting at the other man.

“Don’t worry about me, son, I’m long gone” the man responded with a wry smile. “I taught here long, long ago. Just listen to me - my God, son, if you take notice of one thing in your life, let it be this -” the man leaned in close to whisper in Kun’s ear. Kun closed his eyes, listening as closely as he could despite his faltering consciousness. “When you involve yourself with something like this, sometimes they come back.”

When Kun opened his eyes again, the man was gone.

Kun wobbled outside, breathing in the night air as if he’d been deprived of oxygen for weeks. It was over, the weight on his chest was gone. He could breathe. He could live. All he could do now was pick up the pieces. But the old man’s words echoed in his mind,

Sometimes they come back.

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silverlightqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Fallen

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

angel!felix x demon!reader - comedy, fluff, felix worrying about losing his job as an angel lmao

Word Count: 2.4k+

Summary - Felix is an angel. Literally. Like, from Heaven. And he’s the best at being one. Never has he let temptation lead him astray. Never has he stopped before doing what is right. Never has he abandoned his assigned humans, even those that provide the most challenge. He’s never stepped a toe out of line, always kept his crush on a particularly annoying demon a secret. That is, until, he wakes up in the bed of said annoying demon with lipstick stains on his skin and his halo a little crooked.

Warnings: explicit discussion of sex, making out, that’s it I think but let me know if I missed something please!

this is dedicated to the lovely @brinnalaine for being such a supportive sweetheart, so I hope you enjoy this little fic about our sunshine!

a/n: and here is the sixth instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I’m sorry it’s so late in the day but I’ve spent all day at a theme park scarefest getting terrorised by clowns and dolls in terrifying mazes lmao. @silverlightprincess hasn’t actually proofread this but she proofreads everything else so I still want to thank her for being the best! I really hope you guys enjoy this bc it was really fun to write. please be sure to check out the previous parts and keep an eye out for the next parts too x

taglist: @kodzu-ken @cloudsgathering @silverlightprincess

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I wake up with something heavy on my face and a dizzy head from my mouth and nose being blocked. I try to take a deep breath and, instead, end up inhaling something soft and wispy, making me choke. I sit up suddenly, pushing the heavy thing off me with effort as I splutter, trying to empty my mouth of whatever it is that’s invaded it. And then I reach a finger into my mouth and end up pulling out feathers. Pure white and fringed feathers.

‘Did you just shove my wing, y/n?’ I hear Felix’s deep morning voice mumble into his pillow, and I shoot his back a dirty look, fishing his stupid feathers out of my mouth and trying to ignore the way I get butterflies in my stomach at hearing him say my name with that voice of his. He’s got his massive wings out for some stupid reason, one of them taking up my side of the bed whilst the other hangs over onto the floor. His hair, a lovely soft blond colour, is a fluffy mess on the pillow, and I can feel the heat that his body radiates despite only having the covers up to his hips, the band of his underwear just about visible.

I’ve been running into Felix quite a bit in the last few months – somehow he was always being assigned to humans in areas that I was… terrorising people in. Angels and demons have always had a… rocky relationship, but Felix was too pure, too kind, too sweet for me to be a bitch to him like I’ve been to all the other angels I’ve encountered. So I put up with his annoyingly sunny presence and his random acts of kindness and him stopping me from feeding on humans because ‘they haven’t done anything wrong!’ After him starving me for months, I got fed up and made a deal with him. I would scare the shit out of people to feed on them, and he would erase their memories so they wouldn’t be scarred for life. We became a… partnership of sorts, making me the most well-fed demon and him the highest achieving angel. To celebrate our successes, I took him to a new trendy bar last night and we got super drunk on fruity cocktails. And here we are now, with my cute red dress on the floor next to his black jeans.

‘Yes. I did. Because it was on top of me, suffocating me, and now I have a mouthful of your dumb feathers. Why are they even out? Put them away please?’ I ask harshly, injecting more annoyance into my voice than I feel, and Felix sighs, rolling his shoulders without moving from his position of being sprawled out on his front in my bed, and his wings slowly shrink, diminishing into his strong back, the only trace of them the two small bumps between his shoulder blades.

‘Don’t call my feathers dumb. I put a lot of effort into looking after them,’ he mumbles, voice still muffled in his pillow, and I roll my eyes, letting myself fall back against the bed. ‘Wouldn’t be able to tell. Coarse and ratty, they are,’ I tease half-heartedly, both of us knowing his feathers are softer than silk. ‘Like your hair,’ he replies in his wickedly deep voice, his amusement obvious in his tone, and I let out an outraged noise.

‘My hair is beautifully healthy, thank you. You should know – had your hands in it for hours last night,’ I pout, annoyed, as I pull the covers up around me, shivering. The room is absolutely freezing, due to the cold weather and the fact that I’m only in Felix’s thin white shirt and a pair of pants, so I can’t help but inch closer to him, his body radiating warmth. He doesn’t reply, but I don’t have any objections. I like my lazy morning lie-ins and it’d be nice to get a couple more hours of sleep.

‘Oh, shit,’ he says a few minutes later, sounding wide awake now, just as I’m beginning to drop off back to sleep, and I let out a loud huff of annoyance. ‘What?’ ‘I slept with you,’ he says as though he’s just found it out, lifting his head up from the pillow and looking at me with wide eyes. ‘Did you forget? I thought it was pretty memorable,’ I say offhandedly, amused. ‘It was. But I… I slept with you,’ he says, turning over and staring up at the ceiling, blinking in disbelief. ‘Right. I’m confused,’ I say, wondering if he’s lost his mind or something. My pussy’s good, but not that good. Or maybe it is? God knows. Actually, let’s hope God doesn’t know. She’ll probably kill Felix. Oh, right. I get why he’s freaking out now.

‘Oh, no. Angel boy’s having a mental breakdown because he fucked a demon, and God’s not gonna be happy,’ I tease in a light voice, holding back my laughter, and Felix sits up in bed, looking distraught. ‘She’s gonna kill me. She will actually kill me,’ he says quietly before dropping his head into his hands with a dramatic fake sob. ‘Oh, calm down. She doesn’t even need to know,’ I say, immensely amused, and Felix turns to me with distraught eyes. ‘She’ll know!’ ‘How? Unless one of us tells her, she won’t know,’ I say pointedly, telling him to keep his mouth shut but in nicer words.

‘But… she’s God. Won’t she just know?’ he asks, eyes wide like an innocent little kid, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘You’re not the first angel I’ve fucked, Lix.’ ‘I’m not?’ he asks, sounding sceptical, and I shoot him a dirty look. ‘Don’t sound so disbelieving. But, anyway, she’s never found out about those before. As long as you don’t blab, it’ll be fine,’ I say, and he nods, looking like he’s on the verge of tears.

‘Lix, relax. Stop panicking. You’re ruining the morning-after mood,’ I say softly after a minute of him just staring at the wall unseeingly. I slide my arms around his waist, pulling him down to lie beside me, and I curl into him instantly, revelling in the warmth of his bare skin. His arm comes around me, holding me against him, and I can sense him relaxing a little. I lay a hand on his chest, over the red lipstick marks that stain his skin, drawing patterns with my fingers, and after a few minutes, he puts his hand over mine, making me look up at him.

He takes me by surprise when he leans down and presses his lips to mine in a gentle kiss. My eyes flutter shut after the initial surprise, and I melt into him, hand sliding up from his chest to around the back of his neck, the short soft hairs at the nape of his neck tickling the pads of my fingers. His velvety lips are firm against mine, our mouths moving in sync, and I let out little breaths and whines against his mouth as his hands leisurely travel over my body, giving me butterflies in my stomach when his tongue slides into my mouth.

We break apart after a few minutes, the kiss leaving me breathless, and his lips quirk up in an amused grin. He might be the most angelic… angel in Heaven, but he touched me, kissed me, fucked me like a demon. ‘You’re cute,’ he murmurs, briefly pressing his lips to my forehead, and I try to ignore the little thrill in my chest, pouting at him instead. ‘I’m an evil demon that feeds on human fear. I’m not cute,’ I mumble, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. ‘You are. You’re a cute evil demon that feeds on human fear,’ he replies with a grin, and I roll my eyes. ‘Shut it, angel boy, you’re the cute one here.’ ‘Here I was thinking you found me sexy.’ ‘In your dreams, Lix,’ I murmur amusedly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Not what you were saying last night.’ ‘…Shut up.’

He laughs at me, pulling me closer to him, and I feel warm and secure in his arms. His angel aura is definitely shining through – it feels like nothing could harm me if he’s here. We cuddle in a comfortable silence, his fingers running through my hair soothingly, and my eyes flutter shut after a little while, slumber beginning to take me. ‘What happens now?’ he murmurs, bringing me back from my snooze, and I resist the urge to put my fist through his chest.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, suppressing a yawn, and he sighs gently as I move off him, lying beside him so I can look him in the eyes. ‘Where do we… go from here?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Um… you go back to Heaven and I go back to Hell,’ I reply, knowing that that’s not the kind of answer he’s looking for, and he rolls his eyes. ‘You know I don’t mean location. I mean… with us,’ he says tentatively, and I don’t react for a moment. ‘Are you asking me what we are?’ I ask, a little stunned, and he nods, looking like he wished he never asked.

‘We’re an angel and demon that have teamed up for our own interests, and we got drunk and slept together, which won’t affect our business partnership. Right?’ I say slowly, and I feel guilt twist in my heart when the hope disappears from his pretty brown eyes. ‘Right. Yeah. I just thought…’ he trails off, turning onto his back and not looking at me. ‘Thought what?’ I ask carefully, and he’s silent for a moment before sighing. ‘I thought that maybe it was something more. I mean… we’ve been spending a lot of time together, and I guess I have a bit of a… crush on you?’ he stammers, ending his sentence as a question as though he’s not quite sure.

He’s still not looking at me, and the words hit me like a ton of bricks. Felix, God’s favourite angel, has a crush on me, Lucifer’s favourite girl and a princess of the 9th circle of Hell? I’m not quite sure how to react to the words, just blinking in surprise for a moment. ‘You have a crush on me? Are you sure?’ I ask, and he lets out a little laugh, eyes still on the ceiling. ‘Yep, pretty sure. I’ve had a few months to think about it,’ he says offhandedly, and my mouth falls open. ‘You’ve had a crush on me the whole time?’ I demand, and he finally looks at me, nodding sheepishly.

‘Why didn’t you say anything, stupid?’ I exclaim, hitting his chest gently, and he lets out a light chuckle. ‘I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.’ ‘What friendship?’ I ask jokingly, and he looks at me deadpan. ‘Sorry. But seriously, are we, like, high schoolers? No. We’re centuries old supernatural beings. If you had a crush on me, you should’ve just told me, and taken me on a date. What is wrong with you?’ I demand, and he blinks at me several times. ‘Did you just say I should’ve taken you on a date?’ he asks, stunned, and I let out an annoyed noise. ‘Yes, keep up.’

‘But… you’re a demon, and I’m an angel.’ ‘Forbidden romances are better than normal ones. Like Cleopatra and Mark, Tristan and Isolde, Pyramus and Thisbe, Romeo and Juli-’ ‘Every one of those couples had a tragic end,’ Felix says dryly, an amused smile on his face, and I roll my eyes. ‘They were mortal, and were forbidden by their parents. It’s different.’ ‘Oh, yeah, we have God and Lucifer to deal with instead,’ he says sarcastically, making me raise an eyebrow. ‘Lucifer won’t care. It’s God that’s the issue. An easily solvable issue,’ I grin, and his face falls.

‘Are you plotting against God?’ he demands, looking completely outraged. ‘Don’t look so shocked, it’s not blasphemy for me. I’m a demon, stupid. But, no, I’m not plotting against her. I’m just gonna… talk to her,’ I say mildly, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re gonna… talk to God? To get her to let us date?’ he asks, sounding disbelieving, and I nod simply. ‘She’ll kill you,’ he replies, eyes sparkling with mirth, and I just grin. ‘I think you’ll find I can be quite… persuasive,’ I reply, dragging my fingertips across his chest gently, the feeling of my long red nails lightly scraping his skin making his amusement disappear, a shaky breath leaving his lips. He blinks a few times, knocking himself out of his little trance. ‘I’m not sure trying to seduce her will work,’ he says lightly, and I smirk at him. ‘Oh, I know. I’m planning something else for her. It’s you I’m trying to seduce,’ I murmur, resting my thumb against my lower lip with a small smile, making my eyes all big, and I see him visibly gulp.

‘It’s working,’ he says distractedly, sliding his arms around me and pulling me on top of him, and I meet his mouth in a kiss, unable to keep the grin off my face as our lips move against each other in a way that numbs my mind. ‘Wait, wait,’ he says after a few seconds, breaking away from me. ‘Does this mean you like me too?’ he asks, looking hopeful, and I think for a moment. ‘You’ve got potential. You’re… handsome, and your personality isn’t totally annoying,’ I admit begrudgingly, heart skipping a beat at the big smile that comes across his face. ‘But,’ I add, making his smile fall a little, ‘some of the appeal is the fact that you’re a pure soul, a heavenly little angel, and I’m quite the opposite. I wanna knock your halo off, angel boy, so you better hope I don’t get bored when I’ve done so.’

He doesn’t react with the hurt I expected, a small smirk playing at his lips instead, and before I can realise that we’re moving, he’s rolled us over, his body hovering over mine. His locks fall over his eyes, casting shadows across his face, and his grin makes him look more like the demons I walk among than the angel he truly is. ‘Don’t worry about getting bored, y/n,’ he murmurs in his sinfully deep voice, one of his hands coming to rest at the base of my throat and making my skin burn hot with desire. I can’t help but mirror his grin, impressed at this very out of character behaviour. ‘Why not, Lix?’ I ask teasingly, and he just smirks, hand tightening at my neck, his sparkly eyes locking with mine. He captures my mouth in a passionate and desperate kiss, murmuring against my lips; ‘I’ll keep you entertained.’

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the-fiction-witch · 2 years ago

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Groupie P2

TV SHOW PISTOL COUPLE MALCOLM X READER RATING: SMUT AF

I climbed out of the still icy shower with my towel wrapped around me tightly, I held my towel tightly as I went to my bedroom. I picked out my neon green lace panties and matching long-line lace bra, My fishnet dress, my big black belt, my thigh-high black stockings, my neon green spiked dinosaur shoes, and my fingerless spiked gloves and my headband from last night. I did my make-up to match with my black and neon green theme going my hair in a high pony. Grabbing my usual necklace and slipping it around me too, I grabbed my handbag and hurried out of my house locking it up behind me, I hurried down to Denmark Street and quickly found the little guitar shop he had mentioned. I knew I was early but there was no one around, I stood waiting outside noticing the various people giving me evil looks as they went past. I waited admittedly impatiently for a while unsure where exactly to spot him from.

"Aww there you are pumpkin" I heard made me glance over down the street to the other side of the guitar store, where Malcolm stood in his typical shoes, his tight leather pants, his black buckle shirt, and his same jacket from last night.

"Morning" I smiled fixing a stray bit of my hair

"Morning" he smirked giving my lips a kiss and setting both his hands on my waist "don't you look beautiful," He smirked Moving a hand to grab my ass "come on," he kept his arm around me as he ushered me inside the little red door beside the guitar shop, and down a small corridor, I went along with him unsure where exactly I was going but I wasn't going to complain as the further we went the louder music got. Until it opened up to a little courtyard with a sort of warehouse-like building snuggly behind it where this intense music was coming from "Where are my sexy young assassins?" He smirked as we came through into the place, it was much as I expected it to be quite frankly beer bottles across every possible location, a mattress or two on the floor instruments about the place and of course, the boys from last night all stood around not really playing more fiddling with their instruments then doing anything of note.

"fuck off Malcolm" One spoke up

"you don't even want the news I have with me?" he asked them

"not partially" the same one spoke up

"What is it, Malcolm," another asked smoking a cigarette

"You sit there, don't be a distraction," he told me picking me up and sitting me on the table giving my nose a kiss and winking at me before he went on telling the band some news and things much of which I didn't understand until I noticed the one who had been smoking a cigarette was looking at me as the conversation began to flutter to its end and luckily I managed to pick up some names

"Not to be rude" steve began "who's this?"

"I'll not be rude. Who's the little whore on the table?" Jhonny asked

"she. is none of your concern," Malcolm told them having a seat having now slipped his jacket off and sitting it on my lap so I happily took it pulling it close and I gave it a warm cuddle it felt so soft for a leather jacket clearly where he wears it so much, the scent of him all over it, so I hugged it tightly keeping it safe for him

"Looks like a bar girl" glen smirked at me

"You boys get your groupies, so do I" Malcolm smirked "Pumpkin." He cooes tapping his leg

I giggled a little sitting on his jacket on the table and moving over to sit on his lap letting him wrap his arm around my waist at times moving my hip gently so as to not draw attention to the fact I was at this point border line humping him as the boys argued with each other,

"You for everybody or just Malcolm's?" Steve asks me

"Depends" I smiled getting up and stealing steve's cigarette, for myself

"On what love?"

"on who's asking" I smirked "and how they compare to my Malcolm"

"Humm aren't you sweet" Malcolm cooed

"What's with the spikes?' glen asked me

"Well when you dress like this you have to use something to keep people's hands off" I smirked

"Oi!" Malcolm glared

"Except yours Malcolm"

"Good girl" he smirked so I went back sitting back on his lap

'Vivienne alright with this?' johnny spoke up

"Well. What she doesn't know" he smirked

"Perhaps I should pop to sex and tell her."

"My relationship with Viv and how it works is frankly none of your business Mr rotten, by all means, March your ass up to sex and tell her all about my little darling, but I guarantee you she will not give a shit. I don't bother her when she's with her toy boy why would she bother me when I'm with my groupie" he explained

there were a few more talks of things before we finished up I kept hold of Malcolm's jacket as he finished up with the boys "Now go on I want a new song by the end of the week" he told them "Come on then darling" he wrapped his arm around me again and we headed out the place and down the street, it was then I felt the need to speak up

"Who's Vivienne?" I asked

"Vivienne. Is none of your concern" he says

"But who is she I'm curious is all?"

"She is a designer. Sews clothes I use for the boys"

"I meant more... to you"

"We live together. She is... the mother of my son but as I said none of your concern."

"Am I none of her concern?"

He gave me a look and slightly laughed at me "alright. Yes. If she knew about you... she'd have kittens. I told John she doesn't care because then he won't go scampering off to tell her" he explained "you let me worry about her, all you need to worry about is looking so beautiful," he smirked

"Okay, where are we going now?" I asked

"Well, viv's at the shop. And her little kiddies are at school so how about we head to my place and you... inspire me in that special way you do pumpkin" he smirked

I blushed but went along with him as he heads me across to the little flat it was cluttered and clearly well lived in, he took me thought to the office and sat at a small desk with a typewriter on it starting in some work

"You like that jacket?" He laughs as he lit himself a cigarette having a small drag before handing it over to me

"It's warm and cosy" I smiled

"Humm well if your very good, you can keep it for a while"

"You mean it?" I giggled handing back the cigarette

"Of course I do" he smiled

I giggled and slipped the jacket on hugging it as it was around me and he smirked at me

"You look adorable in my clothes pumpkin"

"I do?"

"You do. Maybe I should let you wear my clothes more often" he smirked pulling me to sit in his lap

"You really like me sitting here today" I smiled

"Well... I missed you. After last night I came back here and crawled into bed and, I couldn't sleep. I missed your pretty pussy too much" he smirked grinding his hips to rub himself against me more aggressively than he did earlier "woke up with a hard-on just thinking about my little darling" he growled

"Oh? What did you do about it?" I smiled playfully with his hair

"Well. I had a little time in the shower this morning thinking about our time in the back of the car last night"

"You did? Why didn't you just turn over and have a snuggle with Viv?"

"Like I get sex off her anymore." He laughs "besides I'd be disappointed it wasn't you"

"Well, it could have been"

"Could it?"

"If you'd come and snuggled with me I'd have been there this morning to take care of you" I smirked now working into his grinding

"Could I now?"

"Umm" I nod

"Well maybe next time I will" he smirked slapping my ass

"Ah! Malcolm" I giggled

"Now you sit right here and keep me company," he says sitting me on the desk he was working on every so often he would stroke my thigh or fondle my breast as he worked

"I need to powder my nose" I smiled after a while

"Second door on the left," he says as he was deep in his typing so I went to the little bathroom and smirked I didn't really need to I just fixed my lipstick and set his jacket in the side, I slipped off everything except my heels leaving me completely naked slipping his jacket back on only just concealing me and returning to the room leaning on the doorframe at first he didn't spot me but he glanced over and his wicked smile grew as he but his bottom lip reclining in his chair a little turning to see me stood there

"Hi Malcolm" I smiled

"Hello, pumpkin. First door on the right"

"What is?"

"My bedroom. Go on."

"Make me" I smirked

He gave me a look and I just playfully smiled, it was agonizingly slow as he left his chair stepping over to me his hand grabbed my neck his fingers pressing in the hikis he made last night "don't toy with my pumpkin. I think after that show today my little groupie might need a lesson"

"What show?"

"With the boys." He smirked slipping the jacket off me "don't you even think for a second one of those boys is getting their hands on my little groupie"

"They won't I promise" I smiled

"Good," he smirked picking me up by my thighs wrapping my legs around him and pulling me into an intense kiss as he kicked open the bedroom door and carried me with him to the bed throwing me down on the bed "you looked so cute in your little outfit today,"

"I did?"

"Ummm you did, but you look even better like this darling" he smirked

"Perhaps you should join me Malcolm" I giggled stroking my toes up his chest

"Perhaps I should" he smirked holding my ankles and pushing them as far apart as possible, he undid his shirt and pulled it off, throwing it to the floor. He undid his pants letting them quickly drop to the floor. He glanced down at himself and bit his lip a little as he stepped out his pants "You can take it from there darling" he smirked

I giggled sitting up and stroking across the waistband of his boxers,

"Ah ah." he smirked slapping my hands away "without your hands"

"Yes, Malcolm" I blushed kissing the bottom of his stomach and gripping the waistband with my teeth being careful not to catch his sensitive pale skin, as I pulled them down far enough they would fall on their own, and I looked at him had not really gotten to see much of him yesterday in the car, his little dark snail trail that leads down to himself, his slender shaft completely erect his veins across his shaft and even his head slightly leaking precum where he was clearly desperate "Already Malcolm?" I smiled licking the precum away "Didn't you get enough satisfaction last night?"

"well I was extremely satisfied last night, but I've had my little pumpkin grinding on me all day today" He smirked pushing me down flat on the bed he kicked his boxers off and climbed onto the bed with me "You tasted so good last night, let's see if your still as good" he smirked giving my stomach a kiss then down to my inner thighs, he pushed my legs open and buried his head between my legs kissing and nibbling on my clit

"Uhh! Malcolm!" I gasped tugging on his hair

"Aww my name sounds so good coming out your mouth" he growled clamping his lips around my clit licking and sucking me mercilessly

"AHHH! Malcolm!" I squealed pulling on his hair hard, making him pull back and lick across his lips

"Fuck you taste so good" He smiled "Let's see if the rest of you tastes so good" he growled licking up my stomach and between my breasts, up to my neck biting and kissing my skin

"I'm starting to worry you might really wanna eat me, maybe you're a vampire"

"Humm if I was don't you think I'd have turned you into a sexy little bride of Dracula by now"

"would you now? haven't you already got one of those?"

"No. I don't. but I'd be happy to have you" he smirked moving down to grope and fondle my breasts moving to kiss and suck at my nipples

"Malcolm stop it!" I giggled pushing him away

"Awww come on darling, I just wanna get them nice and hard before we play with them" He smirked

"Maybe I want something else"

"Yeah? something a little more.... invasive darling?"

"Ummm hum" I nodded

"alright" He growled and smirked hard took my hand softly giving my hand a soft little kiss and setting it on his cock, I smirked and stroked across him a few times before he pushed me away and came closer stroking my thigh before he pushed hilt deep inside me again

"Uhhh! I missed you!"

"Yeah it was only last night darling"

"I still missed you,"

"yeah, I missed you too" he smirked holding my hips as he moved thrusting fast and hard much more so the last night as now without the confines of the small mini around us, I arched my back off the bed whenever I felt the shock of pleasure from his hitting the perfect spots inside me, often times he would lean down and make out with me or bite and suck on my neck often times moaning when he heard me scream "Fuck" he groans burying his head in my neck as his hips moved mercifully the bed creaking and squeaking below us, I knew I was close it wouldn't be long before I hit my high often screaming and moaning in his ear, scratching my nails down his back "Come on darling, I wanna watch you fall apart for me" he smirked

"Yes Malcolm" I smirked back moving my hips a little too

"Uhhh! fuck!" he groans getting faster and faster which causes me to hit my orgasm screaming in his ear and digging my nails into his back, he groans and monas letting me ride it out before he pulled out I was about to help him with my hand but I didn't need to as he almost instantly bit down on my neck hard and came across my stomach "fuck! you are so amazing. how did I ever get such a good little groupie" he smirked laying down in the bed beside me and playing with my hair

"did you enjoy it, Malcolm?"

"Ummmm of course darling, why wouldn't I?" He smirked "Vicous little thing aren't you?"

"Why?"

"Feel like my back been malled by a tiger"

"Sorry Malcolm"

"It's alright darling, I leave my marks on you and you can leave your marks on me" He smirked giving me a kiss and climbing out of the bed grabbing a cigarette from his pocket passing around naked with his cigarette often times sharing it with me until I heard the phone so he grabbed his boxers and went to answer it, so I sat up and began to get dressed again cleaning up the mess on my stomach until he came back "Hey pumpkin" he smirked giving me a cuddle and a kiss "get your things, she's on her way home and I don't want you to get in trouble"

"Alright, will I see you again?" I asked

"you will pumpkin, there is a little alleyway in soho, two fetish shops on either side and a peepshow at the bottom. meet me there tomorrow night at eleven under the red lampost"

"Okay" I smiled giving him another kiss before he took me to the door "I'll miss you"

"I'll miss you more. go on or we'll both be in trouble" He winked giving me another intense lusty kiss before I pulled back giving him a little wave as I headed out.

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