#he cuts his hair at some point before they reach Paris

[swedenis-h]

Quick Louis design timeline!

[solarnomoon]

random things about enhypen that you love (^.^)

༻ heeseung >>> singing whats on his mind

no the WAY you probably have heard every single song in the history of the world come out of heeseung's mouth like it's genuinely insane how he knows so many fucking tunes

you thought it could've been like a nervous thing but nahh he just loves singing and honestly, he does it to impress you too (though he would never admit that)

ofc this mfer has perfect pitch so once he hears a melody it's pretty hard for him to forget it, leading him to sing songs that come to mind just because he'd rather sing it out then keep it stuck in his mind for the rest of the day

even if he's working on something else, cooking, cleaning, even just talking to friends on the phone, you hear him sing songs even if he doesn't realize that he's doing it

bro almost always gets embarrassed when you mention it to him and he swears that he'll never do it again, but lo and behold, less than 10 minutes later, you hear him singing airplane pt. 2 after talking about bts with you

he loves it when you sing along with him or even try to harmonize (it's his love language!)

more under the cut!!

༻ jay >>> telling you everything he eats

one day after you and jay hadn't seen each other in like a week or two cause he was in japan, you asked him what he ate that week and if he had tried anything new or tasted anything bad (just small talk cus you guys were bored and you wanted to be a good partner to him)

he just lit up and told you all the foods that he tried, the things that niki had recommended, all the things sunoo hated, the spicy things heeseung loved, literally everything during that week relating to food

you didn't realize that it was that serious to him but you just smiled and asked questions because at some point it was interesting even though it was a simple question

ever since then he just explains atleast one meal that he had with you, either in person, or texts you if he can't see you

you think it's super cute that he always reaches out because you asked him randomly that one time, and honestly you're glad that he does because soon enough you look forward to it

༻ jake >>> getting head ruffles

jake will never beat the puppy allegations to be quite honest

every single time he wakes up early because of his schedule (much earlier than you) and he ends up having a light breakfast

he times it so that your alarm goes off when he leaves as to not wake you up

and every single time, he comes back into your guys’ shared bedroom and lowers his head toward your lying body just so he can get a hair ruffle from you before he leaves for practice or promotions or whatever is going on

and it’s not just in the morning, but also when he comes back, even finding you in the home no matter where you are or what you’re doing to get his hair ruffled later on in the evening

it’s become routine at this point: when you forgot one day and woke up a little later than you expected because of a late night, he was all sulky and pouting the entire night, leading you to have to cuddle him and watch an entire series with him

even then he was still sad (although, with how much he had to hide his smile when you were in his lap, how sad could he really be?)

༻ sunghoon >>> remembering the little, niche things about you

you know that chocolate that you ate with him in paris a few years back? no? well sunghoon remembers, and he brought it back for you when enhypen went together because he remembered that you quite literally lit up when you tasted the melty goodness

this dude remembers everything and sometimes it scares you

he knows that you hate the fourth step on the way to his dorm because that one happens to be a few centimeters longer which causes you to trip, so everytime you walk together he places his arm on your waist just so you don't fall

he remembers that you can't stand the smell of sage, so one time when the rest of enhypen went inside of a small crystal shop, he walked in before you and made sure to stay outside with you with the excuse that he "gets allergies everytime he's near rose quartz"

sometimes he tells you these things, like how he told you he loves everytime you smile because he loves seeing how your eyes crinkle when it's a genuine smile

most of the time he just keeps it to yourself though, but you know he knows things about you regardless

it's how he loves!

༻ sunoo >>> playing with your hair

you're like 99% positive that if sunoo wasn't an idol, he would actually be a hairstylist as his job

no because how come he can do your hair better than you can do your own hair?

you're literally in control of your body and hands and know your hair yet he just does it better no matter what you attempt to do or even replicate like how he does it on his own volition

at first you were bewildered when he just started touching your hair for fun because no-one else had ever just touched your hair like that so it was just shocking???

but now it seems to just be a force of habit because whenever you guys are sitting together for extended periods of time (like watching scary movies together at 3 AM just because he requested it), he needs to have his hands in that scalp of yours otherwise he literally cannot focus on anything else

honestly though you're happy about it because not only is he gentle with his hands and your hair, but it's really comforting to you now... especially after being jumpscared one too many times in the witching hours

༻ jungwon >>> saying your name

you don't know what it is about your jungwon saying your name or what it is about your name that's just so appealing to him but he loves it and you love hearing it

everytime he talks to you he almost always starts out by saying your name, then saying a pet name after

when he's in a loving mood he says your name then the word "baby" "sweetheart" "my love" and other things of that nature

to be honest, that's how you know when he's annoyed or even upset at you because he'll just say the pet name but not your own name

those days scare you the most, and you spend the rest of the day making it up to him with whatever you did

even when he talks to other people, he never refers to you as his partner, but rather your name every single time

speaking of that, he literally brings you up in every conversation he has ever, even when it has nothing to do with you (but that's a whole different topic)

he just loves you and your name so much that it brings joy to him when it comes out of his mouth

༻ niki >>> sending pics that remind him of you

it's become a little game for you to predict whether or not the pictures niki sends will be outlandish or not

one time it was a cute little kitten he found on the street

"look babe i thought of you <33"

next day it was a piece of torn up plastic that came from cabbage with only the "b" "a" and "e" still legible

"babyy it's literally youu >.<"

some days you feel honored and absolutely loved and other days you wonder why you even like the guy to begin with

like... once he took a picture of the inside of a literal garbage can and texted that the inside reminds him of you whenever you finish crying after a sad movie

you didn't know whether to feel offended or not because honestly that was kind of rude but at the same time he sent it with a heart and a cute emoji so clearly he didn't have any negative intentions regarding that text

you still love it, you just hope the next day will be… nicer…! with what reminds him of you

[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

the fruits, rotten 一 malleus draconia 一 twisted wonderland | 18+

Summary. Malleus should've been more careful in handling the details of his relationship to his grandmother. A shame, really. Mayne he would have to go around hiding his love for you like a coward then, but that's how life pans out, a series of mistakes we wish we could have redone.

Warnings. 18+ Content Ahead. Mentions of Smut.

Edit Status. Not proofread, we die with beta

Word Count. 1.9k

Song. the fruits, paris paloma

A.N. I'm back here's some shit lol. Ended up joining this weird cult but it's all good now :D be careful online kiddos

My love, are you the devil?

I would worship you instead of him

The sound of a brush scrubbing softly against keratin filled the Ramshackle Prefects room, The low hum of the fae prince cuts through gently, his large body hunched over on your bed, hands holding his head while you kneel before him. A small laugh leaves you as you watch his eyes slowly close, his breathing evening out, as he continues to lean forward until his forehead makes contact with your chest, and his hands slip from their place against his jaw.

You do your best to finish his horns, cleaning each ridge with precision and a gentleness to not wake up the sleeping prince, his hair still dripped with water from the shower you shared, which greatly helped in keeping all the grime soft enough to be removed easily enough. 

A deep breath makes you stop for a second, your eyes on Malleus, watching as he slightly readjusts before settling into your chest once again. You can’t help but worry for his neck and back, even while your thighs ache and your knees throb in pain. No matter how soft the bedding Crewel had given you was, staying in this position for nearly half an hour was beginning to take its toll on your body.

Finishing as quickly as you could, you readjust the prince to relax in your bed, pushing him to his full length slowly as you held his head and neck, before removing yourself from his side as he shifted once again to find comfort in the plush covers and pillows.

For I'm too busy committing sins

I have no time for confession

God, you think to yourself, he really was such a beautiful creature.

“And where are you off to, child?” An amused voice finds your ears, and you can't help but jump as a chill runs down your spine, the chilly air not helping you in settling quicker. You grip the band of the duffle as your teeth grind against each other, thinking quickly, you sigh and turn around, deciding to stall him before coming up with something… believable.

“And where are you off to so late? Doesn’t Bat-Daddy have you under house arrest?” You muse, raising your eyebrows and you watch him- he's still stand-offish, tense, but the mention of his guardian makes him relax, before a realization comes to him.

“How do you know that?” He grits, teeth on display as his most prominent feature, his fangs, have you faltering for a second. Pointed ears move downwards in an unspoken sadness.

“Sebek isn’t all that quiet when you’re upset, especially when you’ve been reprimanded by both Lilia and your grandmother, Mal.” You start shifting your weight between each leg, anxiety eating at your core.

He shouldn’t be here. He isn’t allowed to be here.

The knowledge of that leaves your heart breaking, but you didn’t want to leave Malleus in trouble over some silly human who doesn't belong to this world, especially when the topic of love and relationships with him comes to mind.

He isn’t allowed to be with me.

“I see. I don't think I have the heart to reprimand him, though.” He chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood, hopeful eyes and his ears twitching up and down, before remaining in a downwards position as your sad smile reaches his eyes.

“Go. I don't want you in trouble for being here.” You point with your nose to his direction.

Go back, please.

“Can I at least know where you’re off to? I’d like you to be safe.” He’s nearly begging.

My love, you're something special

“Crewel. Late night job with one of his oldies. Nothing too bad.” You smiled, catching your eye, and he seemed satisfied with that answer.

You never seem to leave the fae prince's mind.

Your smile, your laugh, the way you get excited when you’ve learned new things about this world, the way you yawn, how your shirt seems to always expose just the right amount of skin when you stretch-

You don’t like how easily you can lie to him now.

I've never met someone like you

He cannot get enough of you. He’s a man possessed, and not even a real man to begin with in technicality, both in his race and his age amongst the fae. He wants to hold you, to mold into you, have you in his unwavering grasp and never let go. 

His skin yearns for even the slightest of your touches, his lips mourn for yours once again, his eyes wish to the souls beyond to fall deep into yours- his heart can only survive with you by his side, happy, and healthy.

But he cannot give you that.

How could you make him feel this way? To love and lose, to yearn and obtain, to lust and hate. He wants to be angry, to hold his wrath to a standard of equivocated fear and respect like it usually is, but he can’t, not with you.

You'd make me fall from heaven

If only he was human. If only you were a fae. If he was a commoner or if you were of noble blood. If he was your lover and you were his.

How could a magicless human make him feel so much?

His whispers echo in a room filled with desperate pleas and calls demanding to be answered, his back hunched and cracking as scales start to make their way from under his skin, his body moving forward even more to accommodate the tail that manifests itself, Lighting crashes during the storm that rages on, and Malleus is grateful for the weather of the past week, able to hide his tantrum within the will of nature.

The room fills with smoke as he breathes heavily, unable to stop the small flames that leave him, and he gets his hips into an empty space- leaving him whimpering and choking up, before a low and deep growl follows.

But I know just what I do

Long black nails rake across the faes face as he grips at himself hard enough to draw blood, the wounds healing as quickly as they arrive, his breathing is shaky, uneven, as a low laughter leaves his throat. His eyes blow a brilliant green, nearly lighting up the room with their light alone, his horns crack and split open at the ridges slightly, exposing the game green that lights the prince's eyes. 

Your name leaves his voice in desperate whispers, clawed hands dipped in ink rush down his blistering flesh, lust consuming him as he reaches down to grasp at himself, imagining your own hands being the ones to do so.

"Angel, " he calls me 

It wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

Does he know that I'm falling

His lips clumsily drag themselves from your sternum, up your neck, and take your own greedily- nearly biting your lips in the process. It's sloppy, needy, and his grip is unrelenting as he tightens himself around your hips. He starts to huff with small amounts of smoke leaving his open mouth, tail and scales manifesting, his horns and eyes carrying their warm glow.

“Malleus- calm down.” You manage to get out before he's on top of you again, whining and growling, pulling at your pajamas while he nearly tears off his own clothing as well. The wind whips against the window, a sharp crack scaring you into a jump, and the small amount of bare skin that meets his own leaves him weak and fumbling.

From a precipice that I tripped off long ago?

“Malleus.” Your voice is strained, a harsh whisper, as your head is leaning back against the plush of the window seat as you desperately grip at the cushions and stone wall. He’s hunched over again, but this time, he's able to associate himself with you.

“N-no. Please just- just-” He’s stuttering and cutting himself off, unable to properly think now that he has you in his grasp. Nearly three months now. Three months of you running off and leaving him alone. Abandoning him. All because he let his affections for you slip. All because his grandmother's court didn’t approve of your relationship.

For three months.

"You're so pure, " he says

He was starving.

Does he know, I'm forsaken?

The voice of your guardian and adoptive father seems to fade into the distance as you stare out of the window, looking down upon the campus, thoughts running wild as a new soreness leaves your body aching and throbbing.

Malleus was starved. 

You think to yourself, if you could keep ignoring him for this long, and go back to avoiding him at all costs, and your heart breaks at the thought. You loved him, and your relationship was small, budding, but still strong and fulfilling.

Until the bud was found and cut by his grandmother and her court, leaving you heartbroken, and you in fear for your life as you were left with a simple warning.

But now he's had his fill of you.

Stay. Away.

And you did, ignoring him best you can, occupying your time with others, dodging him at every turn. That was, until he came to you in the middle of the night, opening the window of your little reading nook in Ramshackle, and begging you to have him.

“Puppy! Are you paying attention? This is important to how we're going to handle this little… situation,” Crewel doesn’t know about last night.

No one does.

The original sinner

Maybe there's hope for the two of you to let go.

Your neck throbs as you feel his teeth sinking into you once again.

But soon you'll know

For if I'm going down

Naked in that garden

His arm remains under your pillow, the other around your waist and keeps you close to him, while both of your legs remain intertwined with one another. Marks and bites litter your body, as Malleus also bares his own from you, though you can say you were more careful of your claims on his own body.

You fear the consequences of being found, but you can’t help but indulge your lover any time he comes to you, needy and whiny for attention. You push your fears to the side, enjoying your simple and short time with the fae, slowly turning and moving to embrace him.

I guess I'll take you with me

You slowly bring yourself into waking up, eyes heavy with sleep and body sore once again, naked and warm. The cover of the duvet encases you in warmth from your own body, Malleus’ own body, cool and slowly warmed by your own, wrapped around you tightly.

You breathe in his scent, a natural smell with his usual soap and cologne, a mix that leaves you addicted and needing more of him. Your nails slowly rake up and down his back, the pale skin going pink and rising slightly, going to his back and hips, upper thigh and the bit of his shoulders you can reach.

Slowly, Malleus wakes, and simply enjoys your presence and attention.

He could only think that this is how he wants to wake up everyday.

But for now, he lives with your love in secret, until he has the power to keep you by his side as he sees fit.

Whether you still remain by choice, or not.

[segredosjogados]

From time

Story: You (y/n) and Richarlison are starting a thing but a message may tear this beginning down. // I didn’t intend to make a part 2 but it got too long. // it involves Drake and Pierre Gasly because 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

+16 / cursing

Ps: I wrote this directly on the Tumblr app!! Not revised at all. English is not my first language. Feedback is appreciated.

🫶🏾✨🫀 welcome to my wicked mind ✳️✏️📯

You were taking a nap with Richarlison when his phone beeped a message. Then two messages. You’re a light sleeper so it bothered you. You reached out to the phone and saw two messages by someone named Juliana. You smoothly placed the phone in front of his face to get his ID and the phone unlocked.

You opened the messages and there she was: a semi nude picture and the “what time you’re arriving tonight?” text. You gulped and felt tears dwell on your eyes but took a deep breath. Richarlison was sleeping heavily because it was a quick nap time after he came back from training.

You got up from the sofa and made your way to the bedroom on the first floor. The tears involuntary started streaming down your face. “I can’t believe he’s still talking to that bitch” you mouthed to yourself while packing your things the way you could and as quick as possible. By the time Richarlison woke up, you were gone.

You managed to book a hotel room for the night before taking the train from London to Paris. It’d be impossible to book a flight and everything was just wrong: you managed to find two days off from work to go to London to spend some quality time with your boyfriend. Ok, you weren’t official, like real official. But everyone knew about you, you had met his friends and even was known by other Tottenham WAGs*.

The thing was you worked with Formula 1 and tried to find peace spaces within the hectic schedule to be with Richarlison, but clearly he didn’t think of you dearly because that message? The semi nude from another chick? All the time he reassured that he was only with you. Come on.

You tried to rationalize the feelings but listening to the saddest love songs back to Paris wasn’t helping. You messaged your friend Pierre Gasly asking if he were in Paris and he said yes immediately. You explained that your “thing” broke your heart, which made Pierre very mad because he knew how hard you fell for Richarlison.

When you arrived at the hotel in Paris, all you could do was crying your heart out while hugging a pillow, letting out all your insecurities on those tears, letting your mind wonder what was wrong.

“I hate my body, I hate my hair, why I’m not perfect like them?” You whined while sobbing. This moment, a message beeped on your phone. It was Pierre.

- Vamo pra revoada* (Let’s party hard) - he wrote. You laughed. Pierre’s journey with learning Portuguese started exactly with carioca funk and it was a funny one to watch. He called you.

“Ay, you good? So, there’s this party tonight and I’m taking you with me. Go beautiful like always” he said. He didn’t even notice your crying voice. But you managed to confirm that you were going.

Time to recover.

You stood up and opened your suitcase. The music on your airpods was cut again by a call. It was Richarlison. You didn’t answer. Only hours later he realized you were gone? Come the fuck on.

Phone on airplane mode and Drake on the speakers now, you started to get ready. You put on a beautiful brown constructed corset that hugged your boobs tightly with your favorite low rise Levi’s jeans and heels with straps around the jeans. You nailed the make up, with a clean girl aesthetics face but with a lot of bronzer, ombré lips and Dior lipgloss. Everything was on point. You looked at yourself in the mirror realizing that it was difficult to hide de eye bags of crying and tiredness. You decided to snap a lot of selfies and a video lip syncing to Jimmy Cooks by Drake. It was a full photoshoot by yourself. The you posted the video of you lip syncing on Tiktok and a carousel of pictures + the video on Instagram with the caption “Honestly, nevermind”.

A few minutes later, Pierre arrived at the hotel. You didn’t realize the many messages Richarlison had sent you. They were spamming your messages app. A lot of missed Whatsapp calls.

“I couldn’t give a shit” you told yourself knowing very well you cared so much about him that it’d take 5 seconds of his voice to go back to him, no matter the excuse he gave you. But you weren’t just ready to be replaced by the woman he swore he was not talking to anymore. The message she had sent came to your mind and then you remembered you were better than this.

You left your room and met Pierre on the hall. He said nothing when he saw you, stunned by your beauty. You two left for the party.

——-

Back in London, when Richarlison woke up, he thought you were in the kitchen preparing some food, like you always did when you were there.

You weren’t in the kitchen. Nor in the bedroom. You were nowhere to be found and your suitcase and all your things weren’t there either.

He ran downstairs to grab his phone and call you. When he unlocked it, the screen was opened exactly on the message he received from Juliana. The semi nude, the text. He gulped. “Y/N saw it for fucking sure”. He didn’t know whether to ask Juliana what the fuck was going on or to call you and know where you were. He did neither. He called his cousin.

“Bro I’m so sure she saw it, like what the fuck” he said on the phone, rubbing his hand back and forth on his scalp.

“Are you sure she saw it? Like, Y/N was supposed to travel back to Paris today cause she’s gotta go back to…” his cousin answered.

“Nah she saw it. The screen was on the message. How did she unlock my phone? She doesn’t have the code tho” Richarlison started to think properly.

“I don’t know, but bro let it go. You weren’t official anyways” his cousin stated. Richarlison scoffed, pretending to not care.

“Yeah, I’ll call you later” then hung up. He laid on his back on the sofa and messaged Juliana. “We need to talk”.

In a matter of minutes, she was in his house. He was wearing his Nike set of sweatpants and hoodie, hands on his pockets and walking around nervously.

“I knew you were longing for me” she said, approaching him and putting her hands on the back of his neck.

“You cannot text me things like that” he coldly stated. She took a step back, confused. “I’ve…” he paused, going around the kitchen counter to be as far from her as possible. “It’s not right, ok? Not for you, not for me. Just let’s move on separately, ok?”

“Why’s that all of sudden? Cause last week you were on my DMs asking if I were in London…” she told with her finger pointed to his face.

“I’ve met someone. I met her two months ago and we’re getting serious. Look, I know it’s my-“ he was saying but was interrupted.

“You texted me last week” she scoffed.

“I’m sorry, Juliana but-“

“Fuck you, for real” she said and left.

Richarlison took a deep breath and opened a bottle of wine. Who cared if the season was about to start and he had to be in great shape? He wanted to forget everything. Then it was time to call you.

He sent a message first. “Where are you? I’m worried.” You didn’t answer. Phone out of reach. He tried whatsapp calls. Nothing came from you. He knew you saw the picture and the message and as far as he knew you, it would be a big deal.

You weren’t like the other girls that came around. They were about sex, instagram stories, shallow dialogues, controlling him to dismiss the others. You came around and showed him places in London he didn’t know. The Italian restaurant of your first date was one of those. You cooked for him too, played FIFA with him even though you were terrible at it, sang pagode, taught him English through pop music, never made him do things “because you’re rich now”, had the same sense of humor, let him be him, cuddled him, listened to him, understood him… all of that in such a short time.

Where were you?

Hours later, his cousin sent him a message.

“Ay that ain’t your lil girl?” And he sent an instagram link of your post.

He saw the pictures one by one then the video. You were sexy, confident, beautiful. The lips of yours he missed on his. Your curvy body and juicy boobs under those clothes. The sassy attitude he loved on the low. One thing he noticed was the unusual amount of likes. Almost 300,000. And a comment by Drake himself.

———

“Drake commented on my fucking post!” You screamed to Pierre. You sent a screenshot to your friend Hannah, who was in Amsterdam, and she video called you right away.

“GIRL!” She screamed on the other side. You were trembling and giggling, your hands sweating and a face in disbelief

Comment: @/champagnepapi: major 🔥👨🏽‍🦯

You couldn’t believe it. Drake noticed you. Suddenly your heartbreak seemed so insignificant. You were that bitch.

Lies.

When you got back to the hotel, you took it all off and started crying again. On your phone, multiple calls from Richarlison laid on your screen. Rubbing your eyes, you felt your phone buzzing again. It was him. You answered it.

“What do you want?” You said, with a raspy voice.

All you heard was Richarlison’s breath on the other side of the phone. And you heard a knock on your hotel door.

To be continued.

[ohmynabiii]

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ; 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

He leans in, impossibly closer, the sudden traces of what had to be his cologne; smoke, musk, sandalwood overtaking your senses. “Ever been to a live show?"

“Does watching my friends drunkenly butcher ‘Bikini Kill’ in karaoke count?” you tease, sucking in your bottom lip for a second. Minho's eyes briefly flick down to catch the movement, his smirk deepening.

“I was thinking something a bit... louder.”

────୨ৎ────

𝐜𝐰 : substance use (cover your drinks, don't accept anything from strangers, know the risks, etc...)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : romance, tension, rock/band au, aespa cameo :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.1k

𝐚𝐧: hi !! this is kinda a feeler for a series I'm looking to do in the future... if you want more parts, interact pretty please !!

if you aren't an aespa fan, no worries!! the fic is abt minho, the aespa members just play side-characters.

metalhead minho is my roman empire.

AND HE'S TATTED 🥵🔥

────୨ৎ────

The amber glow of the restaurant’s lights pours over your table like molten gold draping everything in a soft, velvety haze. The hum of conversation undulates in the background, weaving through the occasional clink of silverware and the low murmur of distant laughter. Yet within your booth, nestled in the plush leather seats, the world feels intimate, almost suspended in time—just you and your closest friends, insulated in your own little cocoon. Half-finished plates are scattered across the table, and in between bouts of laughter, you absently reach for another bite.

Karina leans forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief, lips curling into a smile that threatens to pull everyone else into her orbit. “Remember that time in Paris?” she begins, her voice soft yet brimming with amusement, as though the memory itself is a secret she’s about to unveil. “You got us hopelessly lost searching for that underground record store.”

A laugh escapes you, shaking your head in protest. “I was aiming for spontaneity. It was supposed to be an adventure.”

“Adventure?” Winter cuts in, swirling the ice in her glass with a lazy flick of her wrist. The glass catches the light, refracting it in delicate shards as she points it your way. “We ended up in some back-alley labyrinth, and you were the only one not remotely concerned—determined as ever.”

Giselle nudges you with a playful jab of her elbow, her grin infectious. “But it all worked out! We stumbled into that adorable café, and you totally charmed the waiter with your flawless French.”

A flush rises unbidden to your cheeks, the memory warm and effervescent, like the alcohol bubbling in your veins. You sip from your glass, feeling the familiar burn glide down your throat, its heat spreading through your chest in a slow, pleasant wave.

Ningning, lounging back in her seat with an air of theatrical satisfaction, flips her hair with a flourish. “Please. Nothing compares to Tokyo. The impromptu karaoke session? Birthday Girl over here killed it.” She punctuates the memory with a grand, exaggerated bow in your direction, prompting the table to erupt in laughter that fizzes like champagne—light, giddy, impossible to contain.

You raise a brow, heat creeping into your cheeks under their teasing. “Oh, come on. You’re overselling it.”

Karina’s grin softens, her eyes locking with yours, her voice slipping into something more sincere but still tinted with tipsy mumbling. “Hey, I– we only speak the absolute truth.”

Before the moment can tip into something overly sentimental, Giselle raises her glass, her smile radiant, cutting through the dim lighting like a beacon. “To birthdays, to unforgettable nights, and to us,” she proclaims, her voice bold, lifting the atmosphere. “Happy birthday.”

The crystalline sound of clinking glasses resonates, cutting through the hum of the restaurant, marking the moment like a delicate chime. You drain the last of your drink, the warmth settling deep into your bones, sinking further as the night deepens. The laughter dies down, but the air remains thick with the joy of the evening.

Pushing yourself up from the booth, you announce with a playful smile, “Alright, I’m getting us another round.”

Winter pouts immediately, her lips curving in mock protest, her tipsy indignation palpable. “No way—it’s your birthday! Someone else should do it!” She casts a playful glance at Karina. “You’re the oldest. Go.”

Karina feigns a glare, already starting to slide out of the booth, but before she can rise, you place a hand on her shoulder, gently halting her. “No, really, I’ve got it. I need to stretch my legs, anyway.”

With their drink orders filed away in your mind, you make your way through the maze of tables, weaving between chairs with an easy grace. The bar’s honey glow envelops you as you lean against the counter, the polished wood cool beneath your fingers. In the reflection of the liquor bottles, you catch a glimpse of yourself—cheeks flushed, eyes slightly glazed with contentment, hair tousled from hours of laughter. You smile to yourself, the warmth of the evening thrumming through you like a quiet pulse, wrapping you in its languid embrace.

Then, the bartender turns your way.

His presence pulls you out of your thoughts as though gravity itself has shifted. And wow, he’s like something out of a dream; The kind of man who looks too flawless to exist outside the confines of a renaissance painting—his chiseled jaw, the curve and gentle pout of his lips, his eyes with a depth and darkness that seem almost feline in the dim light. His black t-shirt clings to his broad chest, the neckline a little too low for your heart to keep steady, and dark-washed jeans hug his frame in a way that should be illegal. The amber glow of the bar’s lights only enhances the ethereal glow of his skin, casting golden flecks along his cheekbones. You wonder for a split second if this man was sculpted out of marble, crafted by hands too talented for this world. He’s too surreal, too perfect to have just... walked up to you in the middle of your birthday.

For a moment, you wonder if touching him would feel like running your fingers over polished marble. He’s too perfect, too unreal, like something the universe conjured up just to mess with you. The kind of guy you only meet in your wildest dreams or movies with all too-high production values. Broad shoulders, cat-like eyes that glint in the light, and a subtle smile that hits like a slow burn.

As he approaches, your brain scrambles for the right words—poetic, sophisticated words to match this moment. Celestial, maybe. Or mesmeric. Anything to capture the feeling of him coming closer. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, and before you know it, he’s right there in front of you, breaking whatever spell you’ve been under.

“What can I get you, birthday girl?” His voice is smooth, rich, and velvety, as intoxicating as his looks.

You blink, thrown off by the title. "...How’d you know?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity, attempting to ignore the way your pulse speeds up as his gaze meets yours.

He smirks, nodding toward the sparkly ‘birthday girl’ crown Winter forced you to wear earlier in the night. You let out a soft ‘ahh,’ feeling a little sheepish, before rattling off your friends’ orders, tacking on a drink for yourself.

He nods, grabbing bottles from the shelves behind him, and when he turns back, it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time again. His features—so sharp and beautiful—still take you off guard. Sharp yet soft in a way that doesn’t quite make sense, and his body moves with the kind of grace that seems too deliberate for someone just casually making drinks.

Then you notice the tattoo.

It snakes along his left forearm, lines of inky black running from his elbow to his wrist—straight, thin, mesmerizing in their simplicity. But as your eyes trace the design, you see how the lines break, shifting into jagged shapes, forming a waveform—Like little mountains extending in different shapes toward his elbow or the asymmetrical rise and fall of lines on a heart rate monitor. The longer you stare at it, the more the sight of it uproots memory deep in your mind. Music stores, underground record shops — this design was the cover of an album. 

Without thinking, the words spill from your lips. “Unknown Pleasures.”

The bartender glances at his arm, like he’s forgotten it’s even there, pausing mid-pour. It’s not fresh but not faded either. Maybe not professionally done. It’s one of the coolest tattoos you’d ever laid your eyes on.

His brow quirks up in surprise, and he shoots you an impressed look. “You like Joy Division?”

“I know some of their stuff,” you say, leaning on the bar, the alcohol loosening your tongue. “But that album cover is iconic. Anyone who knows good music would recognize it.”

He hums, a low sound of approval, and resumes pouring. “You have taste.” His eyes flick up to meet yours, and there’s something magnetic in his gaze, like he’s trying to read between the lines of your casual small talk. “I’m Minho, by the way.”

His name rolls off his tongue like honey, and you can’t help but smile at the sound of it. God, everything about him is so effortlessly cool. "Nice to meet you, Minho," you reply, a smile overtaking your features.

Minho slides the drinks across the bar, but instead of stepping away, he leans against the counter, his forearms resting on top. It makes the muscles in his arms stand out even more, and you have to consciously avoid staring for too long. “...And you are?” His voice is even softer now, laced with something playful.

"Ah, but I like ‘Birthday Girl,’" you tease, your heart fluttering as you hold his gaze.

Minho chuckles, tilting his head, and a few strands of his dark hair fall over his brow, catching in the light. “Gotcha.” He flashes a grin before raising his brow in mock seriousness. “So, birthday girl, are you a diehard rock loyalist?”

You laugh, the sound a bit breathless. "I like it well enough, but I wouldn’t call myself a ‘diehard.’ Not any more than you, Mr. Joy Division." You gesture toward his tattoo again, earning another one of those perfect, disarming laughs from him.

“Right, right.” He nods, setting the tequila bottle down on the bar. 

Minho’s grin lingers, and for a moment, there’s only the soft hum of music in the background and the clinking of glasses at the busy bar. “Joy Division’s a bit of a gateway,” he admits, tapping a finger on the counter like he’s keeping the tempo of the conversation with an imaginary beat. “People always get stuck on the ‘Unknown Pleasures’ cover, but if you really listen, you feel something raw. It’s dark, but it’s honest, you know?”

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "Yeah, it's like they put all the messy parts of life into their music. There's a beauty in it, though, in the way it’s all laid with intensity."

Minho’s eyes spark with something unspoken, and he leans in a little closer. "That’s the thing with rock. It’s not just music; it’s an attitude, a way of seeing the world. Joy Division, Bowie, The Clash… they all seem to dig into something real."

The conversation feels intimate now, like you’re peeling back layers of the noise around you and finding something genuine. “So, what’s your go-to?” you ask, curious to see where his mind wanders next.

He hesitates, the playfulness dropping for a beat as he considers the question. “Right now? Velvet Underground, especially their early stuff. There’s this raw edge to it, like they weren’t trying to make everyone happy. They just... were.”

You smile at that. “That explains the tattoo then. You’ve got a thing for the underappreciated, the overlooked.”

Minho tilts his head, that grin returning with a soft edge. “Maybe I do. Maybe I just like what sticks with me long after the song’s over.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken. There’s something about him—the tattoo, the casual confidence, the way he talks about music like it’s tied to his soul. It’s intoxicating, and you’re not sure if it’s the tequila or him making your head spin.

He leans in impossibly closer, the sudden traces of what had to be his cologne; sea, musk, sandalwood overtaking your senses. “Ever been to a live show?"

“Does watching my friends drunkenly butcher ‘Bikini Kill’ in karaoke count?” you tease, sucking in your bottom lip for a second. Minho's eyes briefly flick down to catch the movement, his smirk deepening.

“I was thinking something a bit... louder.” His gaze holds yours for a beat too long, and he shifts slightly, reaching beneath the counter for a shot glass. “There’s a show tonight at 10. Over at the venue on Cedar, few blocks from here. You know it?”

You nod, the name sparking recognition. “The place by the Seven Eleven?”

“That’s the one. I’m off at nine, was thinking of going.” His eyes gleam in the low light as he shifts his weight, gaze momentarily flickering behind you. “You should stop by. Bring your friends, if you want.”

You glance back at your table, where your friends are obviously watching your interaction with the hottest bartender on earth, their heads darting down the moment you catch their eyes. With a soft laugh, you turn back to him, the pull of his offer heavy in the air. “I’ll think about it, bar man.”

His smile widens, a flicker of something mischievous dancing in his eyes. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Before you can reply, a group at the end of the bar calls for another round, and Minho gives you a look that feels like the end of something and the beginning of something else. He steps away with a “duty calls”, but not before placing a shot of tequila in front of you.

You arch an eyebrow, already shaking your head as the glass catches the low light, amber liquid gleaming beneath the bar’s glow. “I didn’t order this.”

His smirk widens, slow and deliberate, like he’s holding onto some small, secret amusement. “It’s on the house. It is your birthday, after all.”

He turns to go, but pauses just long enough to toss a final parting line over his shoulder, his voice a little softer, almost teasing. “See you at the show.”

────୨ৎ────

comment to get notified for pt. II !!

ty for reading, more soon to come... prepare yourselves for hot ass rockstar lino. yummy.

🦋

[bisamwilson]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜

hello! thanks for the ask!

i did this a few weeks ago BUT i have more than five fics so here's five more!

(some nsfw text below the cut!)

i just met you (and this is crazy), M, 19.2k, complete

Sam finds the Winter Soldier ordering an americano in Paris. The rest of the patrons are drinking tiny plain espressos, as whatever God that rules over Europe intended, but Sam can hear the voice he recognizes from old audio tours of the Smithsonian asking for “café Americain” while the barista turns up her nose. Sam watches as he receives his drink and an éclair, walking calmly over to a small empty table and pulling out something that resembles an iPad. “Didn’t know being a fugitive afforded the salary for tech like that,” Sam says, sliding into the chair across from him. 

2. la vie en rose, E, 6.1k, complete

They mostly stay out of the drama, and they’re both more than charming enough to keep Lexie Grace happy, so they both pass through the next three rose ceremonies with flying colors, no doubt at all that either of them would make it through. Sam thinks it might be a little strange that he looks forward to being with Bucky more than Lexie Grace most days, but he chalks it up to the fact that they spend way more time together due to living together and the impersonal nature of group dates. He’s gotten to know Bucky in a way he hasn’t with Lexie Grace yet; he’s sure his feelings will change when they get more solo dates going. When Bucky follows him to an empty bathroom, turns on multiple showers to drown out any noises from the microphone outside the doors, and backs him up against a shower wall, lips brushing against his neck, he thinks he might’ve made a miscalculation.

3. tell him that his lonesome nights are over, E, 1.5k, complete

They’d figured this out a few months before, after entirely too many mornings and nights and three AMs where Bucky would wake up hard and needy, caught between waking Sam up and letting him get some much needed rest. Usually, they’d end up with the worst of both outcomes: Bucky trying and failing to get himself off quietly by rutting into his hand or the mattress, but too keyed up by that point to do it quietly. It would wake Sam up anyway, already too late to join in any of the fun.   They have a long discussion about consent and boundaries after the eighth or so time this happens, ending up with the perfect solution: Bucky fucks Sam without waking him up first.

4. one of those nights, E, 3.8k, complete

There’s a kind of greasy man holding up the bar near Sam’s normal spot, and he’s admittedly not too happy about it. “Come here often?” he asks once he reaches the bar, words flirty but tone irritated.  The man turns around and blinks, giving Sam a full view of his face. He’s entirely clean-shaven, a surprising look considering his just-past-shoulder-length dark hair, and his lips are cherry red, likely from being constantly bitten. His expression is entirely blank, almost unsettlingly so, but when he notices Sam’s discerning look he snaps on a charming smile, his blue eyes brightening. If he’s looking for a partner to bite him tonight, more power to him, but Sam’ll be damned if he does it from his barstool.

5. from ear to ear, E, 7.1k, complete

Sam mindlessly pinches at his ears again, and Bucky only barely keeps himself from banging his own head against the back of the diner booth to physically chase away his thoughts. “Yeah, I usually only push an earring through to keep ‘em from closing up; it was a bitch to get them done the first time and I’d rather not do it again.”  He switches to the left ear, and Bucky thinks he might just melt into the booth. “It’s been awhile since I’ve done that, though. Kinda surprised they haven’t closed up yet.” He tilts his head, a little tic that Bucky has started labeling as “considering,” and then nods whenever he’s apparently made up his mind. “I’ll throw some studs in when we get home tonight, wear ‘em around for a bit. No use keeping them open this long only to let them close up now.” Bucky takes a sip of his beer and, for once, feels grateful that he can’t get drunk. He’s pretty sure he’d say something not so platonic to his very platonic earring-wearing best friend if he was just a little less sober.

[sequinsmile-x]

Congrats on 500 + followers! 🎉

I would love to request hand holding no 13 “linking hands together during sex” - happy writing (hopefully!) x

Thank you so much!! <3

This turned into a full-blown one shot, which I think we ALL knew was going to happen at some point with this prompt collection!

I have made this a separate fic on Ao3 so Midas Touch can keep its G Rating.

-x-

Exploration

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Emily, Zac is falling asleep.” 

She looks up from the math homework she’d been helping Jack with, grateful for the distraction. She looks over to where Jack is pointing, and smiles at the sight of her youngest, half asleep on the armchair his head nodding up and down as he continued to attempt to watch the cartoon she’d put on for him to keep him occupied. 

She stands up and walks over, running her hand over Zachary’s dark hair, idly thinking about how it would need a cut soon, “You ready for bed Zac?” 

He shakes his head, the stubbornness he’d inherited from both of his parents shining through in his dark eyes. 

“No.” 

She looks over his head to Jack and exchanges a wink with her oldest before she reaches down to pick Zachary up. He wraps his arms around her neck, one of his hands immediately curling around her hair, something he’d done ever since he was a tiny newborn. She groans as she heaves him onto her hip, the sound coming more from habit at this stage than any discomfort. 

“Mama hurt?” 

She kisses his forehead as she settles him onto her hip, “Not anymore, sweet boy,” she says as she starts to walk towards the stairs, calling over her shoulder as she goes, “I’ll be back in a little bit, Jack.” 

It had been two months since she’d been hurt on a case, a knife to the shoulder as the unsub they’d been chasing cornered her. He’d hit her with such force, shoving her into a wall as he stabbed her, that she’d cracked two ribs. The knife had broken during the attack, the tip of it chipping off against bone, and she’d had surgery to remove it. 

It meant she spent three days too many in a hospital on the otherside of the country from her children before she was released to go home. Aaron had sent the rest of the team back to DC as soon as it was clear she was ok, but he had stayed with her despite her insistence she’d be fine. She was secretly grateful for it, always able to find more comfort in his coddling than she’d ever admit. They’d called Jack and Zachary each night, their youngest too young to understand why his parents weren’t home yet, and she doesn’t think she’d ever felt relief like she had when they finally walked through the front door of their home. Aaron had caught Zachary in his arms before he could run into her, his excitement at finally seeing his mother overriding the conversations Jess and Jack had with him about how he had to be careful. 

The recovery had been brutal, much worse than she had anticipated initially. The injury to her ribs made doing the exercises she had to do for her shoulder excruciating at first, pain burning through her chest and abdomen that was a little too familiar. A phantom of her time in Paris chasing her, always at the edge of her memory, prone to catching up with her from time to time. 

What kept her grounded, the thing to remind her that she wasn’t alone anymore, was her family. Aaron fussed over her, following the doctor's orders to the letter as he made sure she took the recommended amount of time off work. He’d clearly encouraged Jack to help look after her. The young boy carried things around the house for her in a way that was entirely unnecessary, always asking if she was ok when it was just the two of them. Zachary was too young to understand that she was hurt. The almost two year old prone to a tantrum at the start when he wasn’t allowed to snuggle up with her in their usual way, so keen for his mother’s love and affection he’d cry if he couldn’t have it. 

She was better now. The ache in her ribs was a distant memory, and her shoulder was almost back to full working order. It still felt a little stiff at times, a soreness to it if she overdid it, but she was ready to go back to work properly. She’d been back in the office for a few weeks now but her doctor, and therefore her husband, were insistent on her staying out of the field at first. Which is how she found herself at home with the boys when Aaron was on his way home from a case in Idaho. 

She missed him. In more ways than one. 

One of the first questions she’d asked her doctor, to Aaron’s chastisement, had been when she’d be able to have sex. She knew from experience that she’d be warned off of it for a little while to allow herself to heal, but she’d felt the eight weeks she’d been quoted was a bit extreme. Unfortunately, Aaron had taken it very seriously, saying he wasn’t going to do anything to hurt her, that they’d have to wait until the doctor gave her the go-ahead, and she was going crazy. Every time he touched her, his hand at her lower back, or his fingers grazing her waist as they lay in bed, it felt like her skin was on fire. Burning for him in a way that was reminiscent of before they got together when she only had her dreams to go on for what it would like to be with him.

It was worse now that she knew exactly what it was like. How it felt to be taken apart by him. Loved by him. 

She’d walked away from her follow-up appointment with her doctor that afternoon with a letter saying she could go back in the field, and that all ‘normal’ activities could resume. A thought that makes her smile as she walks into Zachary’s bedroom, flicking the light on as she enters. 

“Big bed?” Zachary asks, rubbing at his eye with the hand that wasn’t wrapped up in her hair, his exhaustion slowly taking hold. He’d slept in with her whilst Aaron was away, partially because it was a comfort to both her and her son that she had allowed herself to indulge in, partially because he’d figured out how to climb out of his crib and she’d wake to find him next to her anyway. 

“Not tonight, baby,” she replies, kissing the side of his head as she paces back and forth in his room, trying to lull him to sleep so she could put him down, “You have to sleep in your own bed.” 

He frowns at her, a look that was Aaron through and through, and she has to stop herself from smiling, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep though.” 

He buries his face in her neck, his grip on her hair increasing, “Story?” 

Emily smiles and rubs her hand up and down his back before walking over to the rocking chair they still kept in the room.

“Ok, I’ll read you a story.” 

She’d read him as many stories as he wanted. 

She had plans for the big bed tonight. 

___

She waits upstairs even though she hears the door close as Aaron gets home. She smiles as she listens to him go about his routine, something she could describe in great detail if she needed to. As familiar with his as she was with her own. 

She hears both of the boy’s bedroom doors open and close again a couple of minutes later as he checks in on them. She can picture him leaning in to kiss each of their foreheads as he retucked their bedding around them.

He finally walks into their bedroom, a smirk on his face as he opens the door, shaking his head at the sight of her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, a coy smile on her face. 

“Subtle,” he comments raising his eyebrow at her, reaching behind him to close their bedroom door. 

“The doctor signed me off,” she explains, leaning back slightly onto her elbows, ignoring the slight pull of her shoulder at the movement, “I’ve got a clean bill of health.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” he says, smiling widely at her, “I saw the letter you left out on the kitchen counter…including the lines you highlighted.” 

She laughs lightly, “I didn’t want you to have any doubt. As my boss. Or as my husband.” 

Aaron shakes his head again and walks over to her, leaning down to stamp a quick kiss against her lips, his smile widening as she chases him as he pulls back.

“Hi,” he says, reaching to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, his hand lingering at her cheek, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she replies, seeing how his eyes flash at the double meaning. She turns her head to kiss his palm, “So much.” 

She pulls him towards her by his tie, kissing him fiercely as she holds him in place. She sighs in relief when he kisses her back, his hand still on her cheek as deepens the kiss, tasting the desperation on her tongue. 

He ends up kneeling in front of her, ignoring the crack of his knees against the floor, everything else disappearing apart from her. He’d missed this too, the last two months without her like this torture, but the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her. 

He refused to be added to the list of people in her life who had. 

He unbuttons the shirt she’s wearing slowly, paying close attention to her skin as he does so. Her breath catches in her throat as he drags his lips down her neck, nipping at her pulse point before he kisses her collarbone. He closes her eyes and loses herself in the feeling. 

She freezes when he moves to slip the shirt off of her body, his fingers catching the new scar on her shoulder. The tingling feeling left behind against the still numb skin unexpectantly pulls her out of the moment. She wanted this. Him. She always wanted him. 

She’d initiated this, she’d started it. But for a moment all she can think about is the still red line across the front of her shoulder. Yet another place she had been stitched back together, another repair on the tapestry of her skin. She can’t explain it, why she feels self-conscious, but she finds herself holding the shirt together without meaning to. Her hand seemingly reaches for it by itself, clutching at the material as she blows out a breath. 

He immediately picks up on the tension in her body, how she stiffens against him, and he pulls back. 

“Are you ok sweetheart?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, as he tucks some of her hair behind her ear, “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

She shakes her head, “No,” she assures him, reaching out for him with the hand that wasn’t covering herself, “No you didn’t hurt me,” she sighs, familiar patience for her shining in his eyes as he stays silent, knowing her well enough to understand she’d tell him herself. “It’s the scar on my shoulder,” she smiles tightly at him, feeling ridiculous as she says it out loud, “It’s…new.” 

Aaron frowns at that, cupping her face to tilt her head so she’s looking at him, her attempt at avoiding eye contact failing. 

“I’ve seen it before, sweetheart.” 

At first, he’d helped her with pretty much everything, the combination of her ribs and shoulder injuries rendering her arm useless. He’d helped her get dressed and washed her hair for her. He’d even changed the bandages on her wound and held her hand tightly as the stitches were removed. 

This felt different. The intimacy of it making her more aware than ever of yet another change to her body she hadn’t been able to control. 

“I know,” she says, her tongue sticking out to wet her lower lip as she shrugs slightly, “It’s just…”

“Different,” he finishes for her and she nods, a smile ghosting over her face.

“Yeah. It’s different.” 

He understood. He had more scars than he could count, each a memory of something he had overcome. Something he had survived. It was one of the many things they had in common. Topographical changes across the maps of both of their bodies. Something that they both sought out in the early days of their relationship, exploring the hills and valleys they’d imagined for years. 

“You’re beautiful, Em,” he says, stroking the skin of her cheek. She smiles at him, shaking her head ever so slightly. 

“You have to say that,” she whispers back, her eyes meeting his, “You’re my husband.”

“It’s true,” he says, leaning in to kiss her, his lips ghosting across hers, his breath skipping across her face, “I’ve always thought so,” She sucks in a breathe as he presses his lips to her cheek, then her neck, restarting the pattern that he’d already begun, his teeth once again nipping at her skin, “Let me show you.” 

She nods, her breath catching in her chest as he looks at her for a response, his eyes dark with desire “Yes.” 

Aaron gently pulls the edges of the shirt apart again, her hands falling to her sides as he gently pushes the material down her arms. The sleeves gather at her elbows, trapped in place as he’s distracted by her exposed skin. He trails his fingers over her shoulder, making her shiver as he pays special attention to the scar there. He leans in and kisses it, gentle affection pressed into the raised skin that, makes her nerve endings crackle. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says again, his hands ghosting down to her as he guides her to lay down, standing so he can look at her properly, “So fucking beautiful.” 

Her cheeks burn from his compliments, from the way he’s looking down at her, but her reply is cut off as he turns his attention to the small scar on her left breast. He leans down to press his lips against the four-leaf clover she had never removed, something she once hated now a sign of what she had overcome. He sucks a bruise next to it before moving on, a silent declaration that she was his that he’d been making since the very first time they’d done this. A primal claiming of her that she thinks she should hate, but can’t bring herself to. 

She closes her eyes as he strokes his fingers over the scar under her ribcage, the biggest of them all by far. It was large, a starburst of scar tissue across her abdomen that had been further warped by pregnancy, the thick white skin stretched almost to its limit from when their son had laid underneath it. She finally realises what he’s doing, how he’s reminding her of everything she’d survived to be here with him. That her scars were as much a part of her to him as her smile. As the way she loves him. 

Sometimes, she found herself wishing that he’d known her before any of it. That she’d given into her desires in those early days and fucked him in his office. Back before either of them had faced off with their monsters and come out the otherside, fractured but not broken, but forever changed. 

“Aaron,” she breathes out, her hand finding purchase in his hair, her fingers tangling in amongst the short locks. 

“Fucking perfect,” he mutters, his words muffled against her skin, lost in the magic that was his wife. The woman he still couldn’t believe was his. He shifts again, kissing the thin scar at the very bottom of her stomach, just about her pubic bone. A sign of another thing she’d got through, the birth of their son that had become very scary very quickly. 

It reminded him of her strength, of how she’d clearly been terrified as the doctors explained they needed to get Zac out now but how she’d tried to assure Aaron that everything would be ok. Tears shining in her eyes as she held his hand, her body once again torn open for something she couldn’t control. 

He pulls back from her and Emily gasps, cool air hitting her skin. She pushes herself up on her elbows and watches as he pushes her legs apart as he kneels down again, his hands running up her thighs, making her twitch as the callouses of his fingers make goose pimples spread over her skin. He shifts closer, his broad shoulders pushing her legs even further apart, his hands hooking around her thighs. The anticipation makes her shiver, the knowledge of what he could do with her making her skin fizz, love for him crackling under her skin. 

Aaron leans in and licks through her, groaning at the taste of her, and she throws her head back. She has to tamper down her moan, well aware of the kids sleeping just down the hall. 

“Fuck,” she grunts, her thighs tightening around his shoulders, “Aaron.”

He pulls back from her just enough to press a kiss to her inner thigh, biting at her skin in a way she knows will leave a bruise.

“So good, sweetheart,” he mumbles, kissing her skin again, “So good.” 

He dives back in before she can respond, his tongue relentless against her as he steals the words from her throat. He builds her up slowly on purpose, using his acute knowledge of her, of her body, against her. By the time she tips over the edge, it feels like every nerve ending in her body is on fire. She somehow has the ability to think just enough to cover her mouth, to muffle the moan that escapes her as he pulls pleasure from her. 

He barely stops, and she laughs, pushing at his head with a breathless chuckle, “Fuck, Aaron. Stop.”

He pulls away immediately, looking up at her, “You ok?”

“I’m more than ok,” she replies, trying to regulate her breathing again, “But I want you.” 

He smiles at her and stands up, the sound of his knees popping loud in the otherwise quiet room, and she laughs as she watches him take off his clothes, not worrying about hanging them up neatly for once as he lets them fall to the ground. 

“Are you ok there, old man?”

He glowers at her, eyes narrowed playfully, “I’ll show you old.” 

She sits up, finally removing the shirt of his that she was wearing and throwing it on the floor as she moves a little further up the bed.

“Is that a promise?” 

She laughs a little too loudly when he joins her on the bed, the sound brought to an abrupt stop as he kisses her fiercely, the taste of her on his lips as he lays on top of her, finding the usual comfort that he did in the cradle of her hips. 

Aaron reaches between them and guides himself into her, groaning at the familiar sensation, pressing his forehead into hers. She hooks a leg around him, encouraging him to carry on. 

He links their hands by her head, squeezing their fingers together as they establish their rhythm, something they had perfected long ago. He loses himself in the feel of her, the way she clenches around him, her face pressing into his shoulder. He can tell when she is getting close, a familiar catching of her breath in her chest that was always the first sign, followed closely by her leg tightening around him, her heel pressing into his back. 

He unclasps one of his hands from hers and reaches between them, delicately running his finger over her in a pattern he had memorised their very first night together. Her spare hand hooks around him his shoulder, blunt nails digging into his skin as she tips over the edge. He follows soon after, suppressing his groan into her collarbone, his teeth sinking into her skin in a way he knows she won’t thank him for the next time she has to get dressed for work. 

They lay there for a moment, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing before he pulls back to look at her.

“You ok?” He asks again, his voice thick with desire and love and something she’s never been able to name. 

She wants to be annoyed at him. Wants to roll her eyes, but she can’t. Too blissed out and in love with him to be frustrated at the fact that he cared so much. The way he loved her was something she once thought wasn’t real. Something she’s sure she’d consider coddling if it was anybody other than him. 

“I’m fine, honey,” she replies, the hand on his back moving to push some hair off of his forehead, her smile soft as she looks at him, “I love you.” 

He leans down to kiss her, a quick thing against her lips as he squeezes the hand that was still in his. 

“I love you too.” 

___

Aaron wakes up to the feel of tiny hands on his face. Little fingers digging into his cheeks. He opens his eyes and is met by the sight of his youngest son, the low light of the room just enough for him to see his face. 

He’s immediately grateful that he and Emily had showered and changed before bed, and that she’d convinced him to change the bedding. The days of getting through the night without some kind of interruption were behind them, although he wouldn’t change what he had now for anything. 

“Zac?” 

“Daddy!” He exclaims a little too loudly, clearly excited to see him, “Missed, Daddy.” 

Aaron sighs, reaching out for his son and heaving him onto the bed, shaking his head as the toddler immediately snuggles into him. 

“I missed you too, buddy,” he says, kissing the top of his head, “You have to be quiet though, Mommy is asleep.” 

“No she isn’t,” she grumbles from next to him, rolling over to face the two of them. The fake annoyance in her voice is given away by the smile on her face. Zachary immediately reaches out for her, and she gathers him into her arms. She shifts towards Aaron so their son is snuggled between the two of them, “Hi sweet boy.” 

“Hi, Mama,” he says sleepily, already yawning as if he wasn’t the one who had woken them both up. Emily makes eye contact with her husband and smiles, running her hand up and down their son’s back as he falls asleep on her. 

“How did he even get out of his crib?” Aaron asks, breaking out into a yawn.

“Oh, he can climb out of it now,” she replies simply, smiling at the horror in his eyes. He shakes his head at her, “He figured it out this week. I think it’s time we get him into an actual bed.” 

Aaron reaches out for her hand and links their fingers together. “He is 100% you.” 

She frowns at him, narrowing her eyes, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

“No,” Aaron smiles, leaning down to kiss her. “It’s a good thing, sweetheart. The best.” 

-x-

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[feybeasts]

HEY I'M STILL ON A CALLIE AND ROSE KICK please enjoy this goofy lil' script I wrote for a scene I imagined about the Battlemoms:

Backing track is: Waltz of the Tornado

[0:00 to 0:33]

We open on a slow zoom into an austere northern european-style city at night, something like Paris or Barcelona. The central focus of the shot is a palatial hall, lit up in amber hues against the cold evening sky.

Callie: She wasn’t born into this, you know. Where she came from was… about as far as you could get from it.

[0:34 to 0:55]

The zoom continues, now through a dressing room. Centered in front of a mirror is Rose, but not as we know her. Her hair, white as snow, runs down her back, and she’s dressed in a beautiful ballgown, a member of some manner of nobility. As the pace picks up at 0:45, we cut to her walking across a ballroom, where other nobles are dancing and partying, not a care in the world. Rose’s head is bowed low.

[0:55 to 1:05]

Callie: She was a member of her country’s nobility. She could have just run like most of them did when things went sour- but…

As the music takes a dark turn at 0:55, Rose approaches a banner, which takes precedence over all other symbols in the ballroom. Below it stands a smiling, male wolf- her apparent partner. As the whine of an electric guitar enters the music, we cut to Rose’s face. She’s not smiling at all.

Callie: Something kept her there.

[1:06 to 1:32]

We cut to a different scene. It’s daylight in some ruined city. Starting at the boot-clad feet of a disheveled soldier- a rebel of some kind from the looks of them, we watch as the camera pulls back to reveal them racing to ready a rocket-propelled grenade launcher with their allies, pointing it down a roadway strewn with rubble- waiting, watching…

[1:33 to 1:45]

Suddenly, a tank explodes through the rubble of a nearby building and onto the street. The rebels fire, and there’s a deafening blast and a cloud of smoke… from which the tank emerges unharmed, the badge on its turret the same one as on the banner in the previous scene, and starts firing, cutting the team to ribbons.

Callie: There was a war. A rebellion, really. Her whole world crumbled around her.

[1:45 to 2:00]

Our rebel from before manages to take the RPG from one of their dead comrades, loads it, and fires- just as the tank rolls over their former position. There’s a moment of relief as it comes to a halt- but only a moment.

[2:00 to 2:12]

The rebel hears someone wordlessly yell a warning, the action drowned out by the music, but as the music swells with tension, we see what the rebel’s eyes are drawn to- other comrades in an anti-aircraft gun, who frantically start to swivel the weapon towards a new target… high above. We follow their gaze upwards and see… contrails. Dozens of them. Bombers.

[2:13 to 2:30]

We cut to two scenes, intercut. The same ballroom from before, shot from above. Nobles in finery dance to a waltz, all paired up. Rose is paired up with the male wolf, dancing the waltz elegantly, but expressionless. Contrasting this, the other scene is of the bombers, their bays opening silently, one by one by one… as a pilot thumbs the release on his control stick.

[2:31 to 2:50]

Devastation. The bombers drop their payload, and the city below, which we only now realize is the one from before, is bathed in fire and death, indiscriminate destruction.

[2:51 to 3:04]

Callie: Her whole life was in the nobility, the monarchy. The rebellion threatened it all. But you know what the funny thing was?

The bombers turn off target one by one. There’s no hope at all for the rebels below, it would seem. Our rebel, bloodied, dirty, covered in dust, tries in vain to pull their wounded- or dead- friend from the rubble, looking up to the skies as the bombers set up for another pass…

[3:05 to 3:22]

A sudden lull. We cut back to the lead bomber, to the pilot from before, who reaches for a switch… but hesitates. He looks up, and we see it’s the wolf Rose was dancing with. His eyes are transfixed on his aircraft’s heads up display… which has begun to flicker with electronic interference. He looks up, eyes widening. We see the bombers ahead of him in the formation, seemingly motionless in the air, unperturbed.

[3:22 to 3:30]

We cut to Rose in the dressing room, beautiful, noble… sad. She looks to the side… her expression changes, growing intense, furrowed, fiery… and then.Callie: ….She threw it all away anyways.

[3:31 to 3:43]

We cut back to the previous scene, and suddenly the bombers ahead of the male wolf EXPLODE violently. A figure cuts through the formation at incredible speed, a blur of metal and fury, throwing his bomber into a shuddering panic, like a startled buffalo.

[3:43 to 3:53 ]A wide shot of the formation of bombers as something cuts through them effortlessly- fighter aircraft. Their own escorts break off to chase these new interlopers, before more harm can be done. We see them pursue the apparent leader of the formation from the back, which we can’t quite make out… until it suddenly noses up, showing the whole cruciform of the aircraft, its wings… and the rose emblem on its roundels.

[3:53 to 4:14 ]This mystery pilot easily reverses the pursuit, gunning down the fighters on their tail, then cuts back towards the formation of bombers, heroically scattering them before more harm can be done to the rebels below. We cut back to them briefly, and they’re cheering, as we cut to the inside of this mystery fighter’s cockpit… and see Rose at the controls.

[4:14 to 4:27]

Callie: Rose follows her heart- no matter the odds. No amount of plush and luxury could take that out of her.

Rose sets her sights on the lead bomber as the rest of her wingmen fall into formation. We briefly cut to the ballroom, Rose miserable, the male wolf smiling. But when we cut back to the dogfight, now it’s Rose, fiery, confident, proud… and the male staring down the god of death herself.

Callie: She threw her lot into what she believed. She always has.

Rose fires her aircraft’s cannons, annihilating the bomber, then dives for the deck.

[4:27 to 4:38]

The rebels below cheer and hug one another, grateful to be alive as their saviors race overhead. We cut back to a wide shot as the formation of fighters pull up, clearing the grey, devastated city below to climb into the clear blue sky. 

[4:39 to 4:53]

Callie: And no matter where that lead?

Once more we return to Rose in the dressing room. She pulls something from her dress, and places it gently on the table before her. As she rises to leave and the music swells one last time, we see her family crest- the same rose emblem on her aircraft’s wings.

Callie:  I’ll always love her for it. [FIN]

[fluffyprettykitty]

The Parisian Agenda

Pairing: Tony Stark x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: 2030 words

Outline: Tony flies you out to Europe for a big weekend surprise.

Author's Note: requested here. I wanted to write a paris fic for a while now so I combined my desire with this request and voila. Pure romance!

Warnings: swearing, pet names, p in v sex, dry humping, heavy kissing, scratching.

P.S: dividers by @firefly-graphics //​ banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・Tony Stark Masterlist

NSFW UNDERNEATH THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

“We didn’t have to take the jet.” You mumble shifting around in your seat and looking at your boyfriend, the multi-billionaire Tony Stark.

“Don’t worry, it has high-quality reusable energy and is non-harmful to the planet.” He winks at you as he is handing you a glass of orange juice. “Now drink. I need you to have all of your strength for tonight.”

“Tony Stark. You better not have pulled out this jet just to fuck me overlooking some old ass monument.”

“I promise I haven’t.”

“Boy, do I not believe you.” Oh, he had pulled that shit before. Multiple times.

You raise an eyebrow as he clinks his glass with yours, a very mischievous smirk behind his little goatee. He drinks his orange juice like is the most natural thing and then he brings out a silver plate filled with different kinds of cut fruits. He begins to feed you piece after piece while talking about a near grand opening that will take place in the Parisian office. 

Yet Tony remains coy about the place you are landing as he muses between the European offices and tells you about how he should open one in Marocco. 

~Several hours later.

When you land you are fast asleep and Tony quietly tries to escort you in his arms careful not to wake you. Of course, that doesn’t happen. When you open your eyes you are in his arms overlooking the city night lights. 

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere where you will take a shower and dress very pretty so we can go to dinner.”

“Oh, Tony.” You roll your eyes and adjust yourself on the ground recognizing you must be on the rooftop of a hotel. 

The hotel room is beautiful, wide open, with marble pillars and many statues inside.

“Are we in Rome?” You ask him, touching gently the statues.

“Nope.”

“Athens?”

“No.” He shakes his head as he begins to undress.

“You better not be lying.”

“Plenty of cities in Europe. Think the architect was just obsessed with statues.”

He reaches out for your arm burying his beard and nose on your shoulder as he begins to bite and drags you towards the bathroom mumbling that he won’t shower alone. 

After an eventful and steamy shower, he lets you dress on his own claiming he needs to overlook some key details and someone will be outside the door to escort you. 

He has left three different dresses on the bed, in different lengths and cuts, and colors. Different pairs of shoes are also on the chair waiting for you. Everything looked very elegant, but of course, they were all completely backless. You pick the one you prefer the most, feeling like a princess in it, and then sit down in the vanity parlor to do your hair and make-up. Once you are satisfied with yourself, you walk towards the rest of the suite reaching the dining room. There you find a big blue velvet box with a note on it telling you to open it. 

It was a beautiful opaque necklace. Extravagant and expensive. Tony loved his jewelry that much was true. You carefully put it on and headed towards the door. You feel a little weird walking out with no purse so you hold on to your phone carefully breathing in and out. 

Behind the door a young busboy greets you and you can immediately tell where you are from his distinct accent.

France. 

Or maybe any other french speaking country. 

You walk behind him as he points you to a candlelight passage overlooking the… 

“Paris.” You breathe out, looking at the Eiffel tower from a close distance. 

“Son of a bitch. I should have known.” You huff and walk a little bit more detrimentally on the footpath till you see him. Dressed in his black tuxedo with a wide grin on his face. 

“My lady.” He extends his right arm, placing his left behind his back and slightly bowing to you.

“I feel like I should have known.”

“My mom’s favorite city.” Tony smiles and there’s a glisten in his eyes. 

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” You smile back and squeeze his hand.

“Yes, when my father proposed to her, he also gifted her the Paris office. Quite beautiful overlooks half of Paris.” You follow his movements, listening to him talking. It was rare when he spoke of his parents like that especially his mother so you no longer feel the need to tease him. He pulls the chair for you, sitting on a small table close to the banisters.

“Is absolutely beautiful, Tony. Thank you.”

“Oh, wow, and I haven’t even fed you yet.”

“Tony.” You scoff as he is opening a champagne bottle and pouring the insides on two flute glasses. 

“You look absolutely ravishing, has anybody ever told you that?” He proclaims, holding the glass in his hand, taking in your figure.

“Only you, every single hour of my life.” 

“Smart man.”

“Only the best.”

“A toast then.” He smirks bringing his glass forward. You repeat his action hovering yours close to his.

“To health. And world peace.”

“I love world peace.”

“Oh, I know.”

“I also love you.”

“I also know. I love you too.”

“Good.” 

He clinks his glass and proceeds to take a sip staring at you as you are drinking yours. Truth is Tony was always in a flirty mood, especially in semi-public settings like this but something felt vulnerable and raw about tonight as if something hang in the air. You try to push it in the back of your head, Tony wasn’t the most open man in the world, he required a lot of patience and care.

Then dinner is served. 

Opting to skip appetizers, you start with thins strip of smoked salmon with sour cream, lemon, and dill with a side of ravioli and mushrooms with herbs and parmesan. A salad in the middle for the pair of you, a mix of lettuces with pomengrate seeds. Then for the main dish, there is cod, simply cooked with spicy herbs sided with white rice and black truffles. 

Conversation flew as Tony seemed to feel like retelling you his parent’s engagement journey. Apparently, his dad had first wanted to propose in Marocco, overlooking the dessert and some old palaces but unfortunately, there was a warning for very bad weather and then the trip had to be cut short cause of other business problems. In the end, he simply took her to the Jules Verne restaurant in Paris, overlooking the seine river, and proposed to her over dinner. 

“Does that restaurant still operate?” You ask him taking a sip of your wine. 

“Yes, it does.” He grins, almost wondering how clueless could you be. 

Then the waiter is coming around with the dessert of the night. Placed it in the middle of the table having already cleared it before. A chestnut puff pastry with vanilla cream, citrus zest, and opaline. He takes the knife and the fork in his hands and begins to cut a piece, and that’s when you first notice it. 

A diamond shining right against your face. 

“Oh, they left something in there.”

“Funny how that happens, huh?”

“No, you can’t see, is on my side.” You protest reaching out to take the knife from his hand and fumble with a pastry a little. 

“Maybe they dropped their spoon inside the mix.” Tony deadpans, a smirk trying so very hard to hide in the curls of his lips.

“It looks…” You pull it out and examine it. “Looks like a ring.”

“That it does.” He looks at you waiting for the clue to drop in.

“Why would they put a ring inside the pastry?”

“Funny how the mind of the average man works.”

“Tony. Is it?” 

“I mean it definitely is, isn’t it?”

“Oh my god.” 

“Bout time.”

You take the ring in your hands examining it around and pushing away a couple of crumbs. The design is simple and very elegant with a heart-shaped pink diamond in the middle, and several smaller diamonds adorning the silver band.

“Will you marry me, y/n?” Tony asks looking at you. 

“Yes, yes!” You exclaim and fall forward to reach for him. 

Then it all feels like a blur, a multitude of emotions overwhelming you. You don’t remember when you put on the ring or if you ever ate that pastry, all you know now is Tony breathing above you as he is railing you against the mattress. 

Slowly and sensually as if he is sealing a promise and eternity altogether. 

Your hands move on his back, your nails digging deep into his back, feeling his muscles move under your touch. The feeling of your engagement ring on his back has him acting up, looking at you with love and devotion and absolute possession. 

“I love you.” He breathes out, his hands cupping your face. “I love you so goddamn much.” 

“I love you, baby.” You pant out, his hands reaching out to your thighs to push your dress further up for final access.

“I will never let you go. Never, ever, ever.” The palm of his hand brush on your wet panties and you hiss at the sensation. Everything feels so electrifying right now. He pushes them to the side and quickly replaces the empty feeling of his touch with the tip of his cock. 

“Forever.” He muses pushing it inside as your mouth hangs open with the feeling of him. It feels desperate and raw and absolutely right. You need him, you need to show him how much. Your nails dig in on his back as he moves his hips rhythmically against your frame, his face one inch away from your face.

“I wanna see you. You’re so beautiful. A goddamn dream of a woman. My one and everything. My life and my heart and everything precious and holy in this world.”

Thrust followed by another thrust until his cock reaches for your cervix and you try your hardest to hold on to him as he is working your body better than ever.

He wants to show you how much he loves you, how much he cares for you, and how sure he is of his decision to make you his wife. His hand keeps your chin secure, as you try to hit your head back in pleasure and he is drawing orgasm after orgasm from you, never stopping looking at you. 

“You are the best. Better than anyone else.”

“I need to, I need to.”

“I know, I know. I got you. Come on, give it to me. Show me. Show me how you love me. ”

You moan out his name loud and clear for anyone to hear and your orgasm vibrates through your whole body. Doesn’t take long for him to cum as well, filling you up and thanking you over and over again for choosing him. 

Ten minutes later, and several kisses later he is railing you again, never stopping looking at your eyes, kissing your lips and your neck when you are cumming again. He doesn’t stop though. 

You don’t know how many rounds it has been or if you had slept for more than a few hours but you know that is night again as the lights from the outside are shining brightly while you are sitting on the balcony chair dressed in your bathrobe and admiring the way your ring glistens in the dark. 

“Happy?” His voice comes from behind you, followed by a kiss on your shoulder and then one on top of your ring before he settles a tray of food on the small table.

“Very.” You grin looking at him with love and utter devotion.

“You make me very happy.” He nods his head taking in your serene figure. 

“I could make you very sad, too.” You tease him, winking at him.

“You could never.”

“Hm. Don’t be so sure.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

“When are we returning home?”

“Never if I can help it.”

“I like that.” You smirk and pick up a piece of chocolate truffle to throw inside your mouth. 

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary and turn on post notifications!

[mc-lukanette]

*crawls over completely exhausted* No Canon Lukanette... Need fluff... maybe salt too...

Luka gave Marinette's parents a smile as he waited for Marinette to come downstairs, though to say he was concerned was an understatement. He and Marinette hadn't been dating for long, but he knew something was wrong due to her song singing even more stress-filled notes than usual. He wanted to talk to her about it, but also wanted her to open up to him herself when she was ready.

Wanting to focus on smiling for her when she came down, Luka shook off the thought and stared up at Marinette's trap door. Seeing that she hadn't come down yet - understandable given that she had no idea he was there - he pulled out his phone and navigated to her contact. However, just before he could tap on it, there was an abrupt, loud, and unusual noise coming from Marinette's room, followed by the sound of Marinette yelping and presumably hitting the floor.

Luka gasped. “Marinette!”

Not even thinking, he hurried upstairs, phone clutched tightly in his hand as he pushed the trap door up and let himself in.

Over a dozen tiny kwami were speeding around her room, each with distinct voices and one of whom he recognized as Sass. He'd initially thought that the Liberty was chaos, and it was, but there was something different about fifteen little melodies all moving around simultaneously and wreaking havoc. They hadn't even seemed to notice that he was there.

There was also a ladybug-patterned ellipsoid lying on the table in the middle of it all, though Luka's eyes fixated mostly on Marinette lying there on the floor, now staring at him with wide eyes as he took in the whole situation.

"L-luka!" she greeted, voice forced. "W-what a surprise! I mean, you must be surprised at my toy collection! See, there's—there’s this magnetism thing going on that lets them seem like they're flying and—"

She was cut off as one of the kwami accidentally dropped something to the floor, making her flinch from the loud noise. Even the sound all around the room was overwhelming, the little beings ignoring Marinette’s panic in favor of playing with her things.

That's when the tears started, subtly at first until Marinette let out a whimper.

Ignoring all the revelations he just went through, Luka hurried to Marinette's side, helping her up and checking her for injuries. "Marinette, are you okay—"

"You know!" she cut in, running her fingers anxiously through her hair. "You're not supposed to know!"

He took a breath, recognizing that he was going to have to deal with these revelations now. "It's okay. I promise, I'd never—"

"No, it's not okay!" she argued, throwing her hands out. "I've been guardian for just a few days and this—this isn't—! I already—and now the kwami are out—!" She slumped and dropped her gaze to the floor, ashamed. "I'm a bad guardian. I'm a bad girlfriend. I couldn't protect you from knowing!"

"Marinette, you're not a bad girlfriend. You—" He paused, something occurring to him. "Protect me...?"

He hadn't been Viperion for long, but Luka remembered the importance given to secret identities. He understood that it was a form of protecting oneself and one's loved ones, meaning that a permanent hero like Ladybug needed to keep hers a secret the most.

"Is..." His stomach twisted in knots as he remembered all the dates she'd had to either miss or postpone. He bent down, trying to look at her face, and when he still couldn't, he gently cupped her face and encouraged her to make eye contact with him. "Is that why—"

"Yes! That's why I have to keep cutting our dates short, and not being there for you, and not going on patrols with Chat, and why I haven't had time to take those stupid Adrien pictures down! I can't do anything right!"

At some point, the volume of her voice had finally drawn the attention of the kwami, who all stared at her like children watching their parent having a breakdown and feeling awkward about it. Luka paid them no mind, his heart breaking as he processed all the information Marinette was telling him while all he could do was pull her into a hug and just hold her.

"I'm sorry I found out like this," he admitted, running his hand up and down along her back. "I'm glad that I know but I would've wanted you to share that secret with me instead."

"I-I'm sor—"

"Please don't apologize, Marinette," he gently begged. "I hate hearing songs with meanings I don't agree with. You don't have anything to feel sorry for. If I had the ladybug earrings instead, I would've had to do the same thing as you, and you wouldn't have asked me to apologize, would you?"

She looked up at him, expression pained and full of so many burdens that he couldn't believe he hadn't seen before. He brushed her fringe aside and rested his palm against her forehead, concerned about how pale she seemed and worried that she'd stress herself to a cold.

She leaned into his touch, then further until he was forced to move his hand away. She buried her face in his chest, surprising him as she hugged him tightly. Her song turned from the harsh wail of an electric guitar to the mellow tones of an acoustic, and he sighed in a mixture of relief and happiness.

"...Luka," she murmured, lightly clutching whatever fabric she could reach. "The movie. We'll miss it at this rate."

He hummed, half in response to what she said and half in content. "You're so much more important than the movie."

His heart skipped a beat when she actually giggled, her grip on him loosening and the hug turning to something she did because she wanted to, not for comfort. "More important than Jagged Stone?"

He chuckled, burying his face into her hair as he returned the hug. "Always. Even my idol can't compete with my muse."

She leaned further into him, her melody picking up hints off a bell chiming happily. She almost knocked him over from how much of her weight she was putting on him, but he didn't protest and even enjoyed it; it meant she was trusting him with her secrets instead of shouldering the weight herself.

"I know I couldn't have known," he began, "but I'm sorry that our dates took up your time. I never wanted to cause you any stress."

"But I wanted to!" she insisted, jolting up to look at him. "It's just—it's been a lot, and—"

He placed two fingers against her lips before she could start rambling. "Marinette, I don't need to go on normal dates to have fun with you."

She blinked, waiting for him to move his fingers before asking, "Y-you don't?"

He smiled. "Of course not. I can hang out here while you work, while you do important stuff."

With a small, amused snort, she pulled away from him and wiped any stray tears away. "You're 'important stuff.'"

He grinned like the love-struck fool that he was, then shrugged. "Well, I'll still be here anyway then, right?"

"That's true." She paused, glancing off to the side in consideration, then looked back at him as she asked, "in that case... would you help me with something?"

"Anything," he answered immediately.

She pointed, his gaze drawn to her wall full of Adrien pictures. "Like I said, I haven't had the time, and... I've been wanting to remodel forever."

He was more than happy to help, and there was a selfish part of him that considered it far better than any movie they could've seen.

—————

It took a bit more time than either of them anticipated to take down all of the images, but between the two of them, it wasn't a hard job. The biggest time-waster during the whole thing was Marinette's rambling, but Luka welcomed it wholeheartedly.

Due to not watching much TV, he honestly hadn't heard about what'd happened when Jagged Stone had been at the bakery and the camera crew had invaded Marinette's privacy, and he couldn't believe how much mental stress she must've gone through. After all, even though he and Juleka shared a room, there was still a divider for when they needed their privacy, so he wasn't unaware about how personal it was to have one's room recorded without their consent, even if nothing embarrassing got caught on camera.

It seemed cruel to know that Paris' supposedly lucky superhero was perhaps one of the unluckiest people he'd ever known.

Almost on cue, just when the last picture was down and Marinette was debating on what to do with them, her phone went off with a ringtone that sounded very much like danger. Looking over, there was a butterfly symbol flashing on the screen and Marinette's expression faltered at the sight of it.

"Akuma alert," she said flatly, with a pout that would've been cute had he not known what it meant. She hesitated, eyes flicking from him to her phone. "Um... look, I... I have to—"

"Go," he interrupted with a reassuring smile. "I'm not going anywhere, and I'll be here when you're done."

"But—" She frowned and glared at her phone, clearly knowing that she had to leave but not wanting to.

"I mean it, Marinette. It's okay."

She looked at him like she'd never heard those words from anyone else before, eyes vulnerable but fond. She gave him a nod, a brief smile flickering across her face before she turned away and rushed to the stairs. She shouted for her transformation on the way out and Luka watched as her clothes shifted into her ladybug-patterned bodysuit.

When she was completely gone, Luka felt a sudden unsteadiness and leaned against the table for support. It wasn't that he was shocked exactly to hear that Marinette was Ladybug, but he was still overloaded nonetheless.

As his hand rested on the table, he felt the heel of his palm brush something and looked down to see the pile of Adrien pictures next to him. It sent another rush through his body at the reminder that she'd asked him to help her take them down. He was dating her, sure, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that there were no lingering feelings for Adrien. He knew where she stood and he was okay letting her test the waters with him, as she did have feelings for him and who was he to complain if his crush wanted to date him? Besides, he couldn't help wanting to see if maybe it would truly make their bond stronger.

Looking at the wall now, clear of anything but the pink paint, he knew this was real and ended up wishing he'd brought his guitar.

Then, remembering the akuma alert on Marinette's phone, Luka pulled out his own and began to search, eventually finding what she already had: a direct link to watch streams and updates on whatever akuma or sentimonster shenanigans were going on. He knew well enough that he would only give himself anxiety from it, but he wanted to watch his girlfriend in action as a form of support.

Gosh, Ladybug was his girlfriend.

He took a deep breath to steady himself as he watched the footage, his eyes locked to the screen and only shifting when he felt various figures drawing close. He looked up to see that the kwami had all gathered around him, watching the screen closely.

"So..." the pig-looking kwami began, fiddling with their own paws like they knew they were being awkward. "Have you ever wanted to be a hero?"

There was a hiss off to the side, Sass cutting in with, "He already has me."

Luka wasn't feeling up to smile at that, debating with himself before sighing. "Marinette works really hard, and her song is full of sour notes right now," he said. Stepping away and heading for the chaise lounge, he sat down and added, "I hope you can figure out how to rewrite them."

The kwami all exchanged looks, some confused by the metaphor and others who perhaps understood but didn't know how to follow up on it. Luka didn't give them his attention, focusing on the akuma battle playing on his phone.

As he'd expected, it made him a little nervous actually seeing Ladybug in action due to now knowing it was his girlfriend fighting out there. He believed in her abilities and mentally cheered her on, but he just kept remembering all the akuma he'd known about and how stressful it had to have been.

Off to the side, some of the kwami joined forces to help pick up some of the items they'd previously dropped on the floor. It was only after Marinette's room looked as it did before that they properly joined Luka to watch the battle with him.

It was a start.

—————

The battle between Ladybug and the akuma (and Chat Noir was there he supposed) seemed to be getting into its final verse when Luka heard the sound of the trap door being grabbed and clicked open, making him jump. He was only able to whisper a, "Hide," so the kwami could act before Sabine peered inside the room and took a curious look around.

Apparently, they all thought that huddling against his back was a great hiding spot, and he could only smile sheepishly at Sabine while attempting to ignore the weird feeling.

"You're still here?" Sabine asked. "I thought you were going somewhere, and..." She raised a brow, looking around once more. "Where's Marinette?"

"Ah," Luka began, his mind rushing for an excuse, "we actually decided to have our date here instead. Marinette just went up to her balcony to grab something."

It didn't feel good to lie, though he also felt a sense of accomplishment in protecting Marinette's secret. Was this what Marinette dealt with all the time; having to lie to people even if she didn't want to?

Sabine glanced up briefly to where the balcony was, then back to him, slightly confused but rolling with it. "Alright. Do you two need anything?"

"No, ma'am. Thank you though," he replied, hoping it didn't sound forced.

Thankfully, Sabine nodded and left without asking any further questions, the kwami emerging and clinging to Luka while they peered at the now-closed trap door. Luka breathed a sigh of relief, then went back to watching the akuma battle on his phone.

The rest of the fight took a couple minutes, and all that was left to do afterward was wait for Ladybug to return. Once again, Luka wished he had his guitar, making a mental note to get all of his feelings out when he got home, as typical music apps just didn't do anything for him.

An expected "thump" eventually came from the balcony, and the kwami drifting away from Luka as Ladybug descended and landed on her bed. She saw Luka staring at her and initially flinched, but it was clearly a reflex from people seeing her as Ladybug where she shouldn't be, and she hurried down to meet with him afterward. Luka hopped to his feet, not hesitating to meet her halfway and envelop her in a hug, earning a squeak out of her.

"L-luka?"

"Sorry," he murmured. "Just... I got to think about everything you must've gone through without m—" He choked off, suddenly embarrassed, then corrected, "—someone to help you."

She blinked, then giggled and hugged him back. "You're my boyfriend. You're apologizing for hugging me and being worried about sounding selfish?" She nestled her face against his shoulder and he blushed at how warm she was. "Don't. I like it when you're a little selfish, Luka. It grounds me; makes me feel like you're not totally out of my league."

Luka scoffed, nuzzling his head against hers. "You're in a league all your own. I'm literally dating a superhero."

"Trust me, it's not as cool as it sounds."

"I disagree. I think you're really cool."

She blushed profusely. "H-hey..."

He chuckled. "By the way, your mom came to check up on us."

Ladybug gasped, then pulled back, eyes wide and concerned. She was clearly about to apologize, so he cut her off before she could.

"I told her that we were having our date here and that you were getting something from the balcony. Everything's alright."

Her shoulders eased. She let out a sigh of relief as her head fell back against his shoulder. "Thank you."

He hummed contently, resting his hand along her back and keeping it there. Then, realizing when Sabine came up earlier and might do it again, he reminded her, "You're still Ladybug."

"Huh? ...Oh!" she said, though with less panic than normal and unwilling to recoil from the happy spot she was in.

He heard the whisper of her de-transformation phrase and winced as the light engulfed her, slowly turning her back into Marinette. He felt the spandex under his hand turn into fabric and Marinette's breath against his skin as she exhaled.

A kwami that Luka deduced was Marinette's flew a small distance away, eyeing Luka warily and semi-critically. Luka didn't blame her - he wasn't supposed to know - but he also knew that it was far too late to change anything now, and there was no way he was going to abandon Marinette or pretend he knew nothing. He imagined that the kwami knew that too.

"...I'm Tikki," the kwami greeted finally. "It's nice to meet you officially, Luka."

Luka gave her a nod in return, then stiffened somewhat as Marinette squeezed him tighter, burying her face further against him like she truly cherished him.

"It's still a lot," she whispered. "Is it okay if you hug me a little longer?"

"Of course." Though, he paused for a moment before adding, "Would it be more comfortable for you if we move to your chaise?"

"Hm?" She pulled away just enough to look down and realize that they were still awkwardly standing at the bottom of the steps to her bed. "Oh! Yeah, I mean—I didn't even—"

"Hey." He tenderly cupped her cheek, offering a smile. "I didn't complain, did I?"

She looked briefly surprised, making him wonder just how much she'd had to apologize in the past. They slowly made their way over to the chaise lounge, Luka settling down and opening his arms for her so she could settle onto his lap and snuggle against him. He leaned back against the chaise, throwing his legs across the length of it, then wrapped an arm around Marinette to make her feel secure.

"This is nice. It's... um—" She peeked up at him, then grinned shyly. "—melodic? Is that what you'd call it?"

He couldn't stop himself from snorting.

Marinette blushed in embarrassment. "H-hey! I'm trying, okay?"

"I know." He took a strand of her hair in his hand and stroked it. "You always try, and I love that about you."

She let out a series of whines at that, but doesn't protest the compliment either. She nestled against his chest, keeping her face turned away enough to still talk to him without her voice being muffled.

"I just... want to know more about you, Luka," she told him. "You're so sweet and I felt awful having to ditch you. Didn't it bother you?"

He gave a one-armed shrug. "You were busy. I unders—"

"Luka."

He stopped, meeting her firm gaze and knowing that he wasn't getting out of this easily. He sighed, admitting, "...Yeah, it bothered me, but it wasn't because of you or that I didn't trust you. I... see—my dad..." He rubbed the back of his neck, realizing that he'd never told anyone this story before. "I never knew who he was. I asked my mom so many times, but she never gave me an answer. Whenever you had to leave and lie to me, I..."

"Oh." She raised herself up more to meet him closer to eye level. "I'm so sorry—wait—sorry, you told me not to apologize—Sorry! I did it agai—ACK!"

He laughed, feeling warm and delighted by how much she cared about him and wanted him to feel secure in their relationship. He squeezed her shoulder in reassurance, wanting to nuzzle her for how cute she was being and just barely able to hold himself back.

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad you were looking out for me, but you deserve someone to look out for you too."

She pouted a bit at the heartfelt comment, then smiled and raised her hand to settle on his along her shoulder.

He hummed, pausing purposefully for effect before asking, "...So, what does the great guardian Marinette want to do now?"

"Oh my gosh, Luka."

He grinned, happy to compliment her until she was completely red. "How about the brave and heroic Ladybug then?"

"Luka."

He reached up to caress her cheek with his thumb. "But, if you ask me, I like the kind, sincere civilian Marinette best."

"LUKA!"

—————

The rest of their "date" passed by smoothly, Marinette's parents having left them alone so as to not interrupt anything. Marinette had idly brought up the idea that the movie might still be playing - just at a different time than they planned on going - but Luka brushed off the idea and insisted that he was happy there and didn't need to go on a "real" date with her to have fun, opting to leave it up to her.

And... yeah, neither of them were willing to leave their current position and exchange it for having to sit in different seats at a theater with other people around. They opted to just stare at the ceiling and talk, the kwami having respectfully retreated to Marinette's bed to give them privacy.

Talks of their past meetings and when she left to become Ladybug soon turned into a game of finishing Jagged Stone lyrics. Luka, either by being the bigger fan or just having an easier time remembering them, ended up winning in the end, though he couldn't have expected Marinette to follow up by immediately leaving his lap. He'd held back a whine at the sudden lack of warmth and wondered if maybe she'd been teasing him with some sort of punishment by going away.

But then she'd returned with a tiny pink gift box, and inside was a guitar pick necklace signed by Jagged Stone himself.

"He came into the bakery the other day and I had him sign it for you," she explained. Taking it out to fully present it to him, she asked, "Do...do you like it?"

"I love it, Marinette," he replied immediately, reaching out to feel the guitar pick and properly appreciate it. "I can have this?"

She smiled in response, holding the necklace out in a gesture that made his heart skip a beat, realizing that she was offering to put it on him herself. He leaned close, feeling the light brush of her fingers against his neck as she slipped it onto him. He silently hoped that it was durable because he was absolutely never taking it off.

Marinette's hands lingered on the string even when the necklace was fully on, Luka meeting her gaze to see that she was looking at him with all the love he'd ever dreamed of her offering him. He didn't say a word and neither did she, but with a light tug on his necklace, he was pulled towards her into a kiss. It was definitely too deep for their first but also so nice that neither of them cared, and not even the Ladybug revelation could outmatch his surprise at being so readily smooched.

Luka reached for the hand grabbing his necklace, Marinette letting go of it so they could thread their fingers together. His song was going crazy as she leaned forward, clearly wanting more from him and him being wonderfully helpless to resist her. He breathed her in, his other hand finding its place on her side. Her own hand rose up so her fingers could settle against the back of his neck, and he couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed by the sound he made when she started playing with his hair.

She didn't even pull away when their kiss broke, merely pressing her forehead to his while they each caught their breath. Despite the boldness she'd just displayed, she somehow couldn't maintain eye contact and ended up looking elsewhere while all he could do was stare at her in a daze.

"S-sor—" She paused, remembering again that he told her not to apologize. "I-I mean, I'm... not sorry? I—ah—remembered you saying that music is simpler than words, so I just—I thought that maybe I shouldn't ask you with words and just... play it instead?" Luka could feel the heat radiating from her blush as she hurriedly added, "Um... is that okay?"

He answered her with another kiss.

[chiwhorei]

the folly of man

pairing: e. todoroki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.6k

tags: the softest!enji there ever was, crybabie!reader, age gap (20ish vs. 50), d/s dynamics, belly bulge, squirting, overstim, daddy kink, size kink, dacryphilia, a spank, breeding kink, creampie, i am dramatic and clinically melancholy so it’s a little angsty but it’s really just unabashed, self-indulgent fluff

a/n: i screamed about soft!enji to @messwriting a few weeks ago, then the other night enji took me to paris and wrecked my shit in my dreams. the result? complete self-indulgence. i will not be taking criticism on my desire to fuck this man, he is a drawing. (the banner image is from the lonely doll by dare wright, if you know this book we probably have very similar issues sksksksksk)

hymn: angel by finneas

“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss,” ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost

He swears it’s your quirk that got him. Grabbed him by the collar, stole his soul from his chest— you swiped it right from his rib cage.

You sit across from him, legs folded under each other and pen pressing against your lips. Is it your lips? Or the way words curl past them?

A siren’s call in the form of a 20-something journalist. He hates the likes— prodding for sound bites and snippets to plaster across front pages. But your figure buckles in on itself, nerves weighing down the fabric of a light pink blouse and tight-yet-tasteful pencil skirt. Your presence is gentle and honeyed, it feels warm where Enji is usually burning hot.

Your fever spreads across his cheeks and nose.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you need me to repeat the question?”

Your bottom lip trembles nervously, pulled in between your teeth to gnaw on. Freshly graduated and on your very first assignment, it seemed hilarious to send the newly minted recruit into a white-hot tongue lashing.

“Mr. Number One has chewed the head off of every reporter in Japan, it’s a right of passage.”

The echo of your colleague’s stifled laugh rings in your ear as you stare back, you scan over the small wrinkles by his eyes and the jagged scar across his face. The silvered skin curves around his features like atonement. There’s something about the prolific hero that seems to pull you towards him. You grab the side of your chair so as to not fall forward right into his orbit.

Any attempt at distance was doomed from the beginning.

He shakes his head, eyes darting from either of yours to find the question you asked him. He coughs awkwardly, nodding his head for you to continue. Any desire to snap at you dissolves into the carpet with the very first laugh. You let out a small, tinkling giggle against better judgement that cracks the glassed tension.

“What is your biggest inspiration?”

The question hangs in the air a moment before a rehearsed answer falls from his mouth, something about the citizens of his community and the desire to keep his country safe. Whatever tumbles out is less interesting than how you smile in response.

Every person in the room-- agents, publicists, the poor intern holding a black coffee in his trembling hands-- watch on, collectively agape, at the scene before them.

Flame Hero: Endeavor breaks composure for a moment to send you a docile, lopsided smile.

You decide it’s something you won’t soon get tired of seeing.

“Did you get everything you wanted,” his voice trails off with a hint of uncertainty, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head, “I could answer a few more questions over dinner.”

Enji stands in shock at his own behavior, the inferno flickers little more than a candle in your eyeline. Every minute holds sixty seconds of opportunity, and Enji’s hair is graying at the ends. Even if you brush the dusty old hero from your shoulders with guffaw, even if you roll your eyes or kiss his insole with a pointed heel. He can’t afford to waste a moment more.

It has to be your quirk, he decides, reciting like a prayer the only logical answer to his sweating palms and clambering heart. Nothing makes sense but keeping you within arms reach. It must be some kind of hypnosis, maybe a pheromone.

Enji’s penance lies in the soft, supplied skin of a quirkless civilian.

***

There are few places that have felt like home, no matter what four walls build a house around him. He alone is responsible for each one decaying. He deserves a spot in every plane of hell.

Enji leans against the headboard, scanning over pages of John Milton and enjoying the quiet just after dusk. Looking over the top of his glasses, the book in hand falls out of frame, like most everything does.

Pink lace hangs like bated breath from your shoulders and hips. You look on to him for approval, the set your eyes had lingered on in a boutique window now brandishes the swell of your breasts.

“My perfect girl.” His words are filled with wonder, pulling at the ends of his mouth when you twirl, the ends of flowing lace pick up around you like wings.

Winter air creeps from the open balcony to hit your skin, spreading chills down every inch. Enji watches as you shiver, the cool breeze prickles past pick lace with little effort.

“Come here.” Enji tosses his glasses and book to the bedside table and pats his lap.

Nothing feels more like home than when you settle to lie atop his naked chest, cheek pressed firmly against his pulse.

You rest your chin against his sternum, hands crawling up to find warmth from his skin. He feels the thin, golden ring as your touch trails around his neck.

His own hands, calloused and battered, eclipse over your lower back to find purchase against your ass.

Away from the prying eyes of domestic paparazzi and forty minutes outside of Paris— Enji cuts out what feels like a stolen heaven.

Idle chat about the museum he took you to today fills the room comfortably. Your fingertip comes down to trace the lines of marred skin across the bridge of his nose, he hums and smiles as you talk about paintings.

None stood out to him.

He takes your hand in his much bigger one, kissing the band that mimics his own. You tangle your fingers together.

“This feels like a dream,” your voice is barely above a whisper, lest the night air hears the talk of lovers.

“I’m not totally convinced you aren’t a dream.” Enji pulls you to sit back against his legs, in this position you can meet his eyes without straining upward. Strong hands come down to rest at your hips, thumbs rubbing lightly against the lingerie’s fabric.

You scoff, batting at his chest, you laugh his comments off in moments like this. But Enji is convinced one day you will lift straight from the world with nothing left but your shoes keeping the earth weighted down.

Soft lips ghost over his, an invitation he’ll never refuse. Your mouth is against him, small hands coming to either side of Enji’s face. His graying stubble is coarse under your fingers. You inhale deeply, he smells like campfire and expensive cologne. Your tongue slips between his lips. His mouth tastes like the remnants of the bottle of red wine you shared after dinner

The hands around your middle pull your impossibly closer, pressing into your lower back to grind your hips down against the bulge in his sweatpants. Your body moves against him, panties rubbing against your already throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” The title wraps in chords around his vertebrae, the sounds of whimpering hits his ear, and he notices the wet patch rubbing right against his knee.

“What do you want, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” The maneuvering of your hips starts slow, but Enji has you almost bouncing on his leg before you can answer him. Both of your hands wrap around his left wrist, tugging it in between your legs.

“I want you to touch me, please. I- I need it.” You bite the inside of your cheek when the pads of his fingers graze the damp, thin material of your panties, his burning touch sets every blood cell aflame.

“You’re so wet, princess, what’s got you all worked up?” There’s a gleam of humor in his voice, seeing you desperate for him has Enji stiffening beneath you.

“My precious little thing, I’ll take good care of you.” His words write you a promise, it extends far past a night of love in Paris.

You can feel his assurance carved into your heart.

Enji’s hand dips into the front of your underwear, ghosting over your clit and running against your swollen lips. He marvels at your response, the smallest ministrations have your head rolling to the side.

His pointer and middle finger prod against you, inching inside carefully. Even with the utmost care, you wince at the stretch. No matter how many times he’s fucked you open in this whirlwind year,

“You’re tighter than a fucking vise, Christ.”

A long moan escapes you, knees moving to dig into the mattress below you for leverage to buck against his hand. Enji curls his fingers upwards, calloused tips finding the spongy patch of skin that has you squirming. His fingers cross over each other, pumping into you and easing you to relax against the intrusion.

“Daddy, I want your cock. I’m ready, please.” The heat in your core is rising, licking against your nerves like wildfire. Enji tutts in response to your begging, his thumb coming down to rub taught circles into your clit.

“I know, princess, but you remember the rules. Cum on my fingers, and I’ll give you what you want.” Enji picks up the pace of his fingers, his own patience thinning at the edges with each call for your daddy.

“Close, ‘m close,” your voice wobbles, aching legs pushing you against him, chasing desperately for that first release.

Enji feels you clenching tight in finality, a squeal breaching the steamy space around you. You crack in his tight hold, the taste of bliss coats your tongue-- it tastes like tears.

You slump forward against his chest, coming to float back down to earth before he sends you hurdling back towards the sun.

“You’re so beautiful, princess, absolutely perfect.” Enji’s voice is heavy, lined with a certain bitterness you are familiar with. His compliments always sound like apologies.

You lift your head, forehead pressing against his, the stray hair around your face tickling his skin.

There aren’t words that could heal decades. No amount of atonement, no prayers to any gods will fix a life of despair. He shoulders the blame of it all, heavy against bones and muscle.

Moving to kiss him tenderly, lips pulling him back into the world's sweetest direction. You shouldn’t let him use you as his redemption. If Enji were another man, a better man, he would have walked away from you that fateful afternoon under fluorescent light with just the fleeting feeling you dipped his heart in.

He’s not any kind of good in this world, Enji is a foolish bastard.

He’ll keep kissing you, he’ll touch and lick and fuck you until your wings pick up in the wind and fly you away.

“I want to ride your cock, Daddy. Let me make you feel good too.” You beg for him once again, you beg to be a distraction, the sweetest kind of diversion-- hidden snugly in the quiet of a French villa.

Enji is meticulous with stripping you of the dainty lace, brushing off the straps of your bra so the cups fall right under your pert nipples. He moves his hands slowly, snaking up your sides to swipe his thumbs against the pebbled buds. You don’t try to stop the wines falling like prayer, your body still on edge from your first orgasm.

He pulls off your soaked panties, eyes tracing the strings of slick collecting and breaking off from your glistening cunt.

“Such a precious little pussy, and it’s all mine.” Enji frees his cock from his sweats and boxers, the length springing to slap against his abdomen. He pumps his hand a few times before pressing it against your stomach. It’s no surprise that his size is impressive, long and thick in an ever-intimidating way.

Enji admires how his cock presses against you, tip nudging against your belly button. In comparison to your smaller form, it’s a wonder he hasn’t ripped you in half.

You’d let him.

“No more teasing, Daddy. I need it, please.” Desperation sparks against your nerves, igniting with the sharp sound of Enji’s hand against your ass.

“Don’t get mouthy now, princess.” His warning is light, he’s never been good at denying you.

He pulls your hips up, lining himself up so you can sink down onto him. If his fingers make you whimper, the first breach of his shaft makes you wail.

Your hands find his shoulders, digging in to steady yourself with every deliciously unforgiving inch. You’ll never get used to his size, you never want to.

Enji has held composure with white knuckles, but his resolve is rusting with every movement of your descent. His desire to tear into you becomes untamable, his mind swims in with the velveteen grip you suck him in with.

“You’re mine, fuck, you’re mine forever.” He will promise you until he believes it himself.

He’ll believe in forever if forever means you.

The folly of man is nestled at the apex of your thighs, is pleading gasps, is begging for more, is too much and too little.

And Enji is a fool in love.

The gates of heaven open between your quivering legs to let the devil in. He’ll take every moment he can steal.

As your hips settle down finally, the feeling of being so completely full has tears collecting in your lashes to run down your cheeks. It’s depraved, truly, how beautiful your destruction is.

Enji gives you a moment, adjusting to his size and relaxing, his hand comes down to rub against your stomach, tracing against the skin lightly.

“I can feel it,” his breath hitches, the pulsing around him is dizzying, he feels his tip as it moves inside of you, “fuck, I can feel my cock in your tummy.”

Shaky thighs start moving above him, the bounce of fat and flesh atop his hardened body. He can’t help the declarations flying from his mouth, he can’t stop the itching feeling to make you his completely.

“I want to fuck a baby into you, want to fill you so full.” He can feel the way your body reacts to his most perverse desire, “I want you round and swollen with my child.”

Enji grabs your hips, taking control and quickening the pace of his assault on your weeping pussy. You cry out, a string of babbled, “Please, daddy, please fuck me full, s-so full.”

You can feel your second orgasm bubbling up with each stroke of Enji’s cock against your abused pussy. All words are lost, all thoughts fuzzy aside from the man pounding himself into you from below.

“Cum around me, little girl, cum around my cock.” Enji’s words are little more than a growl, head thrown back into the pillows as you constrict around him. His fingers come down against your clit again, rubbing with fervor. He’s adamant on throwing you head-first, body limp and overstimulated in every way.

You feel it in the gnashing of your teeth, the wound chord snapping like floss around Enji. You feel yourself gushing, your cum leaking around him and dripping onto the bed sheets.

Enji cums with one final buck, hips lifting off of the bed as he spills into you. You can feel the thick spurts against your still pulsating walls, filling you to the brim and trickling out even before you separate.

He stays inside of you for a moment, large hands wrapped around your middle, pulling you to crumble into his chest. You collapse against his warm, jagged skin. He lulls you with soft strokes to your hair, behind the flush and sweat on your face, he sees the dizzy, love-drunk expression tugging on your lips.

No matter how many times you disagree, Enji knows it’s true.

The swelling, disorienting feeling of your smile. The visions of a future, of the life he doesn't deserve but wouldn’t give up for any deal the devil could make him. The sight of you, simply and without motive, every day.

It has to be your quirk.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[imaginingmarvelandeverything]

Chapter 4: Brothers

Pairing: Morpheus x OC (Cassandra of Troy)

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of violence

Word count: 1724

A/N: Here is chapter 4 of Fated and Forgotten! Starting with the time jumps now, months rather than years a this point. Hope you like it!!

Main masterlist

Series masterlist

Ko-Fi

Cass somehow managed to push her horse faster as she galloped through the city. The reasonable part of her heart knew it was no use, that this wouldn’t be any different from any other time she had tried to convince someone that she really was seeing the future. But she couldn’t just give up hope.

The streets were barren given the hour, so there was no one around to try and stop her as she pushed on to the city limits. The wind whipped around her and made her eyes stream. She pressed closer to her grey stallion’s neck as she pressed on. They turned a corner sharply and she had to dig her knees into the horses flank to gain purchase so she wouldn’t slip from his back.

She saw the group she was looking for riding out of the city limits at a leisurely pace and raced up the road to the side so she could cut them off. She tightened her hands in the reins and pulled her horse to a stop in front of the group, causing them to have to do the same and several of the horses whinnied in protest.

“Paris! Do not do this!” She said.

“Sister, you have no idea about which you speak.” Paris pulled his horse to the front of the group.

“I know you are going to Sparta with the intention of convincing Helen to leave with you.” She reeled her horse around to face him properly. “Paris, it will cause an all out war and Troy will fall.”

“She was promised to me by the Gods. Troy has the favour of Zeus. No one would dare stand against us.” Paris’s words were met with noises of agreement from his men.

“It will not matter! Troy cannot stand against the full might of the Greeks! Paris, brother, if you do this, you will damn us all. Please, listen to me.” She pleaded, holding onto a single glimmer of hope that she could get through to him.

“She was promised to me by the gods. And by the gods, no one will interfere. Move out of our way, Cassandra, or I will make you.” He reached towards the hilt of his sword and she had no choice but to concede. “Thank you, sister. I will see you upon my return with my new bride.”

She watched them go before turning her horse around and making her way back through the city. The images of everything around her burning wouldn’t leave her mind and by the time she slipped back into the palace, her anger at Apollo was roaring in her chest once again.

***

Cass made her own way to Fiddler’s Green as soon as the fell asleep, the anger and grief in her heart still growing, even in the calmness of the meadow. Her influence over the dreaming became more apparent as the sky began to darken, not that she noticed, she was too engrossed in her own thoughts. She couldn’t stand to just stay back and watch as her brother fulfilled the prophecy that preceded his birth. Yet, there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had no choice but to-

“Cassandra!” Morpheus’s voice cut through the air like a whip, succeeding in knocking her out of her own thoughts.

She glanced around the darkened meadow and immediately reined her emotions back in. The sky began to fade back to its usual soft blue as she took several deep breaths and screwed her eyes shut. “I am sorry.”

“You have become better at controlling it.” He sighed. “What happened?”

“It is starting. Paris rode to Sparta. He would not listen to me when I tried to warn him about what his actions would cause.” She buried a hand in her hair and tugged at the strands, grounding herself in the slight sting, as she turned to look at him. He flinched ever so slightly, as if he was in pain, and his hand moved towards his head before stopping abruptly and dropping back to his side.

“I would like to introduce you to some people.” He said after a moment of silence between them.

In the few months since she had started working with him, he had never introduced her to any of the residents of the dreaming, other than Fiddler’s Green, who after the first month, he had told her was actually sentient being who could take the form of a man, and Alexander the raven.

“Who?”

“They are brothers. I offered one a place here after his death, and the other at the firsts request.” He explained, his hands clasped in front of him. He still wore the same black robes he had the first time she saw him, but other than the colour, her dress never changed in the dreaming either.

“They live here?”

“Yes.”

She wondered what it would be like to never have to leave, to spend eternity living in dreams. “Why are you introducing me to people now?”

“You have proved to me that you can control the affect you have here, yet I still do not know why you have an affect at all.” He held out a hand for her, something flashing quickly through his eyes when she took it, and started walking. “I wish to see if you have any influence over the residents of the dreaming. I know you can throw my creations out of the dreams of others, but I wonder what you will be able to do in the dreaming itself.”

“I can influence Fiddler’s Green.” She pointed out as he led them out of the meadow and down a paved path towards a bridge, which led to an island with two houses sitting on it. As the terrain under foot changed, she waved her hands until her feet were covered by her usual sandals.

“Fiddler’s Green is not like most of my creations.” He said without further explanation, and she knew by now that pressing the issue would not get her any further.

They carried on towards the two houses in comfortable silence. Until something large with wings dropped out of the sky and landed in front of them.

Cass yelped and locked the hand that wasn’t already in Morpheus’s grip onto his arm. She positioned herself partially behind him as she looked over the green, scaled, winged creature. It was taller than them both when it stood on its hind legs and she gripped Morpheus’s arm tighter in anticipation as it grunted at them. But when she glanced at him, he was watching her with amused eyes.

“This is Gregory.” He explained.

“What is he?” She asked, moving with him as he stepped towards the creature.

“He is a gargoyle. I made him specifically as a gift for the brothers.” He reached out his free hand and stroked it down Gregory’s nose before turning back towards her. “He will not bite.”

“My brother said that about a horse once.” She murmured under her breath, not missing the amused look he gave her. She hesitantly unlatched her hand from his arm and reached out to stroke the gargoyle’s nose. He nudged into her hand much like a horse would, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Gregory! Gregory!” An enthusiastic voice called from over the bridge.

Gregory turned towards whoever it was and made a noise of greeting.

“Lord Morpheus.” The man smiled widely before turning his attention to Cass. “And… friend.”

“Abel, this is Princess Cassandra of Troy.” Morpheus introduced her.

“She…she is a mortal.” Abel stared at her with wide eyes.

“A mortal here with my blessing.” A sudden hardness unlaced Morpheus’s words.

“Of course, my lord.” Abel quickly said. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

“Likewise.” Cass smiled.

“I have tea if you would like some?” Abel was already walking across the bridge before either of them could reply.

Morpheus followed him, gently tugging at Cass’s hand to get her moving. Gregory momentarily disappeared before reappearing with a ball, that he dropped at their feet, and looking at them expectantly. Cass glanced at Morpheus but he looked as stoic as ever again, so she kicked the ball across the garden herself. The gargoyle went bounding after it happily and she couldn’t keep the wide smile off her face, the worry of what had happened earlier leaving for a little while. She wondered briefly if that had been Morpheus’s plan all along.

“Lord Morpheus.” Another voice greeted.

“And his friend, Lady Cassandra. This is my brother Cain.” Abel introduced.

Morpheus went to correct the title but Cass cut in. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, my lady.” Cain said with a small nod.

“Cassandra has power here in the dreaming. I hope you will be happy to welcome her if ever I am unable.” Morpheus said, sounding more detached than he usually did when it was just the two of them in Fiddler’s Green.

“Of course, my lady. The House of Secrets is always open to you.” Abel gestured to the house on the left of the bridge.

“I think you mean the House of Mystery will always be open to her. My lady.” Cain gestured to the one on the right.

“I am sure I will have the opportunity to visit both.” Cass smiled.

As they both started arguing over who would bring them tea and biscuits, Cass turned back to Morpheus. “Can I ask a favour of you?”

“Mortals generally do not ask favours of the endless.” He said, as cryptic as ever.

She smiled softly. “I hoped you might consider mine as I have already done it for you.” He raised his eyebrows as she turned into him. “Call me Cass? Cassandra is the cursed seer and I do not wish to be that here, in the only escape I have.”

His lips parted slightly as he considered her words. “Very well, Cass it is.”

Her smile grew wider. “Thank you.”

He gave her a stiff nod before pulling her in the direction the brothers had disappeared in.

Chapter 5

Taglist: @yanna-banana @thefinalgirlpng​ @itshamleth​

(drop me a line to be added/removed)

[sinner-as-saint]

Let Me Love You.

CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader AU.

Run-through: Things happened between you and your boss over a weekend recently; while on a business trip. Boundaries were crossed, lines were blurred – rather salaciously. Following this; you decide to resign from your dream job because you couldn’t handle the guilt of having been so unethical. So vulnerable and open. Neither could you handle his burning stare at work, nor the craving of being under him each time you looked at him. So you decide to leave before you ruin your own career and further. But then, your boss shows up at your doorstep – determined to make you realize that this isn’t so bad after all…

Themes: smut, fluff, ceo!bucky (because I miss him)

You felt awful as you stepped into your apartment.

Sighing as you looked around; thinking about how the job you just quit had paid for this lavish home you owned currently. Removing your shoes by the door, dropping your bag and keys beside them you lazily crossed your spacious living room and stepped into the main balcony.

Given you were high up, the view you had of the city was to die for. The sun was going down, and usually you loved sunsets but you couldn’t appreciate this one as much as you wanted to. You were stressed; now jobless.

You thought back to the past week you had just hustled through. Monday was weird; he avoided you like the plague. Tuesday was the same, except you caught him staring in your direction while in a rather important meeting. Wednesday, he still didn’t say a word – except for his usual demands which being his PA you had to meet. Thursday he didn’t come to work; which then gave you more time to think about everything which happened recently, allowing you more time to feel guilty and weird.

And today, given it was Friday he was the busiest he’s been all week. Yet despite that, he managed to send you looks which spoke volumes even in crowded rooms. And you couldn’t take it anymore. You believed you were someone who wouldn’t be able to mix work and pleasure and find a healthy balance, so for the sake of your own peace of mind; you produced a resignation letter and placed it on his desk when he wasn’t in his office. And you left for the day.

You knew he always lingered at his office for a while longer on Fridays. So you were sure that by now he must have found your letter. You wondered if he felt just as awkward and weird as you did, and if so, then he’d accept your resignation without any hesitation.

You sighed one more time, taking in the cool air and the orange-pinkish sky. You walked back inside and decided that soaking in warm water and essential oils would make you feel a little better. So that’s what you went for.

 Thoughts of him filled your head as you soaked in the warm bath water. Your boss. James Buchanan Barnes; powerful name for an equally powerful man. He was the kind of person you couldn’t forget even if you tried. Respect, fame, wealth, authority, power; he had it all.

And recently, just a week ago, he had taken over you as well…

-Flashback-

Friday morning you came to work and found out that you would be accompanying your boss on a short business trip. You didn’t make a fuss, even if it meant sacrificing your days off. The paycheck you received each month made up perfectly well for it.

Paris for weekend, to attend a business conference didn’t sound so bad after all.

“Sir, I’ve just been notified that you’ve cancelled the hotel reservations?” you questioned while scrolling through your mails. While you were just a little confused by this, the man in front of you was clearly not.

Sat across you on the dark seat; well-groomed as always – dark suit, perfect hair, perfect face, strong jaw and strong built. He looked like he could be on a magazine cover. Pure, drop dead gorgeous male. Many of your friends often asked you how you kept your calm and composure around him, and how could you not want to jump his bones all the time. To which you answered; you didn’t see your handsome boss in that light.

But oh did you lie.

You were human. And you did find your boss to be super attractive just like the rest of the world did. But did you do anything about it? No. Firstly, that would be highly unprofessional. Secondly, he was way out of your league. Still, it was hard being around a man this handsome. Knowing he was single and available made it worse.

“I did.” he answered, just as confidently as he did everything else. “It’s just one night, Y/N. We’ll stay at my penthouse.” He stated.

You nodded and replied back to your assistant who had initially emailed you about this sudden change. ‘We’ll stay at my penthouse’…

You had shared residence before. Once you spent the night at his mansion because of work load. Then another time you two shared a cabin while on a trip. Once you shared a hotel room because separate rooms weren’t available. But this, today seemed a little different. And you couldn’t place a finger on what it was.

It didn’t rub you the wrong way or anything. He just seemed so cheery, which was unlike the normally slightly grumpy man. But then again, who were you to question his decisions? So you went along.

You two landed in Paris on Saturday morning. The conference was to be held on the same evening, followed by a formal party of some sort, then the two of you would be making your way back home by Sunday evening. Quite a tame weekend… until it wasn’t.

 Throughout the whole conference, you felt a pair of eyes staring at you from across the room. Meanwhile you were talking to an acquaintance – legal advisor of one of the many businessmen who were attending the same conference as your boss. Steve was a friend of a friend but you two were currently bonding more and more due to work.

And little did you know, that Bucky hated it.

He was watching. He’s always watching you. Not in a creepy manner, in a protective way. As a woman, you were somewhat oblivious to the effect you had on people when you entered a room. You never noticed it, but your boss did.

Bucky knew how every man turned their heads to look at you. How every woman envied you. And it was never about what you wore, or how you did your hair. It was always about how you carried yourself, how you walked so confidently, how you were always polite and proper. And so beautiful.

As much as he liked showing you off, Bucky hated it when he wasn’t the only one who had all your attention. Like right now. He clenched his jaw as he studied how this man approached you. Blonde hair, tall and muscular – Bucky hated him immediately. He hated him a little more after he saw how the guy hugged you; a lingering hug which Bucky never got. Then he hated him a little more when he saw how you dragged your hands down the guy’s arm, refusing to let go of him.

You never touched him like that. Bucky asked someone close by and he was told that the guy you were talking to was someone named Steve Rogers, and he was a lawyer and an acquaintance of yours.

Hmm.

He tried to look away but he couldn’t. Bucky envied the guy talking to you. He didn’t like how close he was standing to you. He didn’t like how he kept his hands at your elbows so gently, caging you, keeping you to himself. He hated it.

 Then he asked you about it on the elevator, as you two made your way up to his penthouse to get changed and ready for the party later.

“You know Rogers?” he asked out of nowhere. His tone just as serious and cold as always.

“Yes. He’s… a friend.” You smiled innocently, thinking back to how you and Steve had successfully broken the ice earlier.

Silence.

 You each took a room inside his lavish penthouse apartment. You immediately loved the place. You had about two hours before the party so there was no need to rush. You took your time, yet your mind couldn’t help but drift towards how your boss has been acting in the past hours. First he was all cheery and warm, and now he’s back to his grumpy self.

Oh well.

You stepped out of your room just in time, your boss was waiting by the foyer dressed in a signature, all black, 3-piece suit. He looked devilishly handsome.

“You look lovely, Y/N.” He said softly as you walked towards him. You couldn’t help but smile and tried to hide your face by looking down at the marble floor. Before you could recover from his rare compliment, he reached for your hand and walked the two of your towards the elevator again.

You noticed it then. The shift between the two of you.

The party was amazing. Lovely people, lovely music, nice conversations; what more does one need? Then again, you could still feel a pair of eyes on you. At some point, you dared to look up and you made eye contact with your boss.

He was staring with an unreadable expression on his face. You shook it off and went back to the conversation you were currently part of, but you could tell he hadn’t stopped staring at you.

 You two met on the elevator again after the party, on your way up for the night.

“You and Rogers seem close.” He pointed out.

You were surprised at the tone he used – that of disgust and anger. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

He scoffed, then turned to you. “Is something going on between you two?” Same tone as before.

Your eyes widened. “No. No, what makes you say that?” part of you wondered why the hell was he so suddenly interested in your personal life.

“Just asking.”

You couldn’t help it. “Are you alright, Mr. Barnes? You haven’t been yourself in the past-,”

He cut you off abruptly. By backing you into the corner of the elevator, the cold metal pressing against your back as his warm hand held you gently at your waist.

“Am I alright?” he mocked in that authoritative voice of his. “No, Miss Y/N. I’m not alright.” He confessed. “I’m not alright with you being so close to me, yet not being able to touch you. I’m not alright with seeing other men making you smile,” he inched his face closer you yours, “making you laugh, dance with you, touch you like I can’t. I hate it.”

His warm breath fanned your face. And as the metal cage got higher and higher, your heartbeat increased in the same tempo. Racing. Rushing. Your thoughts were a mess. Your body was tingling, he was so close. Too close. And you could feel yourself giving into him already.

And you did eventually.

“Then what’s stopping you?” you asked in a whisper, and you heard his little chuckle under his breath. This could be a wrong idea, but it felt right. You looked up into his piercing stormy blue eyes and you saw it; the hunger, the desire, the need.

You were sure yours mirrored the same emotions. Bucky pulled away just for a second, to press the key to stop the elevator from moving upwards any further. Then he turned to you again. “Can I kiss you?” he whispered against your parted lips, barely touching them with his own but the proximity was enough to make you lightheaded.

You nodded quickly and his mouth was on yours immediately. His lips moved against yours perfectly. He slipped his tongue past your lips and stroked the top of your mouth, driving you crazy. His kiss was just how you imagined it would be; hot, passionate, and exciting.

Your hands found their way into his hair and your fingers ran through his soft locks. He pushed his muscular body into yours even more and you gasped as you felt how close he actually was. His body heat wrapping around you.

His hands slowly reached up and slid the straps of your satin gown down your shoulders, letting it fall and bunch around your waist. He had been wanting to do that all night, especially since he saw you dancing with that guy Steve.

Bucky smirked at the sight of the flimsy, lacy lingerie you had on; which he was sure he could tear off your body in less than a second. And he did, allowing the thin material to fall to the floor. He gently touched you wherever he could; letting his hands linger at your breasts and taking his sweet time; caressing and kissing your skin. His lips trailing down your neck; kissing, licking and biting.

His mouth didn’t leave your skin as his hands slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went. His hand slipped into your underwear with no shame, his knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you shiver at his touch. He chuckled upon feeling just how aroused you were. “So perfect…” he whispered.

He ran his fingers up and down your folds, gathering and smearing your arousal around as he went. You whimpered quietly against him; your gown barely covered your body. But Bucky was nowhere near complaining. In fact, he had been thinking about what you looked like under that dress since the first time he saw you this evening.

His hand gently wrapped around your throat. He gave it a little squeeze and an involuntary, playful smile formed on your face. His smirk grew, and so did the fire in him. “Like it when I choke you, huh doll?” he spoke, dragging the tip of his nose along your jaw as his other hand slipped under your skirt and rubbed your clothed core. He couldn’t take it any longer. “I need to have you.” he growled. “Now.”

He pushed his two fingers past your entrance with ease and moaned right in your ear as he felt your wet and warm walls immediately welcoming him in. He curled his fingers inside of you, hitting all the right spots which made you weak in the knees. You bucked your hips against his hand involuntarily, and he chuckled as you moaned out loud while he touched you.

Feeling more confident than earlier, you quickly unbuttoned his pants, palming him through his underwear and feeling his erection. You smirked to yourself as he grunted the moment you touched him.

“I want you…” you mumbled breathlessly. All your worries and overthinking left behind, you wanted him bad. And that’s all you could think of at the moment.

Bucky smirked. He lowered his pants and underwear, then he hurried in pulling down your underwear, letting it all fall and pool around your ankles. You stepped out of it and Bucky picked you up by your thighs and kissed you deeply while holding you between him and the metal surface tightly.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms held on to him tightly. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you whimpered through the kiss. Bucky needed to be in you already, all he wanted was to hear you scream his name as you cum around him. So he wasted no time in aligning his throbbing tip to your dripping wet entrance.

He pushed himself into you; stretching you out. His nails digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours scratching at his shoulders as he filled you up; making you whine and moan as he went. You were both gasping by the time he filled you up entirely. His body didn’t feel as foreign as you expected. You two fit perfectly.

Bucky started rocking in and out of you, without wasting any time. You felt all of him; your walls clenched around his thick cock as he started out with slow strokes and then gradually sped up into you. You felt all of him, the bumpy and the velvety skin of his length. He was perfect as he stroked your walls with his pulsating cock. You were a moaning mess in no time.  

His strong arms supported you up by grabbing you at the curve of your ass; holding you against him, as he sped up into you; showing you how much he missed you. He pushed his head into the crook of your neck and swore under his breath, all while occasionally mumbling how much he loves you and how good you feel wrapped around him.

He fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. Your hand slid into his hair and you tugged on it each time he pushed into you. You soon felt the familiar pressure forming; pressing inside you as the familiar warmth spread all over your body. You moaned wantonly.

Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how his body brought you immense pleasure; your mind a foggy mess. Your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you, and he soon quickened his pace; earning even more moans and mewls from you.

He pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the wall with each thrust; it hurt just a little. Your body moved along with his like a rag doll. And you never complained once. You could hear the wet sounds that he caused and the sounds of your skin clapping against each other – it was all too sinful.

He moaned right into your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back like it always did no matter where he took you. Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace; pounding into you relentlessly. The pleasure built nicely as he took you higher… and higher… and higher. Until you couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock; screaming his name in the process.  

And that was one of the many times he made you cum around him that night…

 -End of flashback-

 Fuck…

You shivered in the warm water at the thought of him deep inside you; how perfect he felt, and how you never wanted to leave that bed with him in it. But then, you thought about how wrong that was; how you shouldn’t have gotten so intimate and personal with your boss. It was wrong, and unethical and a terrible mistake. But it felt good…

Stepping out of your bathroom, wrapped in a soft robe, you felt chills all over your body. Not because of the temperature, but because it felt as though you suddenly weren’t alone in your home. You panicked for a moment. Your heart racing, your thoughts racing faster.

Then you sensed it.

Sensed him.

He was here.

 “Miss Y/N.” He spoke in that damn voice which could make you drop to your knees in less than a second.

Yet you managed to maintain your composure as you slowly turned around to face him. Realization hit you a little late, and you gasped under your breath when you finally saw him standing in the middle of your bedroom. Your initial reaction was to hug your robe tighter around your body.

He looked flawless and powerful as always. Hands shoved in his pockets; accentuating his broad shoulders. That gorgeous smirk on his face. Flawless hair. Flawless face. Bucky smirked. “Oh don’t hide from me. I’ve seen it all, haven’t I?” he teased so effortlessly.

You felt your face getting hotter under his intense gaze. “How did you… how-,”

He cut off your rambling. “I own the building, doll.” he answered like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Right. Of course he owns your apartment building. He also owns half the city.

There was an air of arrogance around him at all times. And you tried so hard to hate it, but you couldn’t. It suited him; the arrogance, the power, the authority. And he sure knew how and when to use it.

You cleared your throat as you kept your eyes focused on the ground, rather than look into his stormy blues ones because they were a new weakness of yours. “You shouldn’t be here.” You mumbled, not hating that he was here.

He scoffed. “Oh?” he raised an eyebrow at you and took a few steps towards you. You were surprisingly not hysterical about the fact that this handsome man found his way into your home out of nowhere. He walked over to you, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him.

You had no other choice but to look up into his ocean blue eyes and you could feel yourself melting already. He pulled you closer and leaned in, gently kissing along your jaw repeatedly. You closed your eyes and tried your hardest not to sigh in pleasure or moan as you felt the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble altogether.

“I’ve missed you.” he whispered against your skin, stopping for a moment and kissed you at the corner of your mouth. His arms circled around you, holding you close to him. Your arms circled around him as well, slowly. You realized you had missed him as well. His warmth, his voice, his mouth. All of him.

And just like that, he took over your very being again. One touch of his lips and you were under his spell with no intention of making it out anytime soon. “I missed you too…” you whispered breathlessly as he kissed your lips gently.

But those few words from you triggered something in him. An irritation he had carried inside since he saw that letter of yours on his desk. Overflowing emotions he couldn’t handle; due to which he was here in the first place.

“Yeah?” he whispered through the kiss, then slide his hand into your hair and tugged on it to pull your face away from his. He clenched his jaw as he looked down at you. He was conflicted, should he be mad that you even dared to think you could just leave him, or should he just fuck some sense into you? “Yet you dared to leave me your resignation with no warning?” Oh. “Huh? Is that how it is now, you think you get to decide everything?”

Oh. So he was mad.

“I didn’t mean-,”

He kept going. “Shut up, babygirl.” He spoke softly. “Now you listen to me,” he inched closer, gently biting your lower lip, “You’re not leaving me. You’re not resigning. You’re not going anywhere.” He stated, then pulled away to look at you again.

There was a fire in his deep blue eyes. “We can’t keep doing this.” You tried to come up with something. An excuse. You were looking for an excuse.

“Why not?”

“It’s wrong.”

He scoffed and then smirked again. “Is it? Does being with me feel so wrong to you now, huh?” he cooed, knowing it was only a matter of another minute or two before you give into him. “That wasn’t the case this past weekend, was it?” He moved the two of you backwards, towards your bed in the middle of the room.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to resist him for too long now. But you still tried, in vain. You sighed loudly, wrapped in his strong embrace. “You’re my boss.”

He chuckled. “I know that.”

“Exactly.”

“What?” he questioned, already untying your robe as he stopped at the end of your bed.

“You know what. How are we supposed to be professional at work if we’re sleeping together?” you asked.

He smirked looking down at you. “Then let’s not be professional.”

You sighed again. “It’s-,”

He cut you off with a kiss again, sliding your robe down your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. “Shh.” And just like that, you melted under his touch. “It’s okay babygirl, let me take care of you.”

He pushed you down on your bed and held your stare as he undressed himself; smirking as he watched how you grew more and more desperate with each item of clothing he took off. He hovered on top of you in no time.

Bucky lowered his face; pressing his forehead onto yours gently, while he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance. You moaned out loud as he did. He grunted once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to adjust.

“Fuck…”

You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, attempting to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours.

He removed himself and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and leaned into your ear. You heard him panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulders; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you.

“Thought you could just leave me, huh? Thought I would let you?” he mumbled right in your ear as he fucked you relentlessly. “You thought I would let you go? Let someone else touch you, pleasure you, fuck you like this? Did you babygirl?” he growled. “Answer me!”

You whined, throwing your head back and moaning at how good he felt. “No… please I didn’t-” you were breathless. You tried matching his thrusts but were unable to; so you simply let go. Your body moved against his like a rag doll.

He growled at how your walls clenched around him. “What? You didn’t what? You didn’t think I’d come back looking for you? You thought I would just let you go because you asked for it?” he accidentally let out a moan, followed by swear words. “You think you make the rules here, doll?”

He reached up and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. His blue eyes were wild and fierce; staring deep into your soul. His gaze made you tremble in pleasure. He looked so powerful. Broad and strong, hovering above you, his cock buried deep in you. Looking down at you like he owned you.

He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. Given his size, he stretched you out completely. And it did hurt, but the pleasure compensated for the pain.

Your legs trembled as you lifted them up to wrap them around his waist. This allowed him to thrust deeper into you, and in the haze he was in, he managed to mumble right in your ear about how good you felt. He was relentless, as though each moan, each mewl which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough.

 At some point, right when your walls started clenching around him and when you were just about to come undone; he removed himself from you and flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips. He kissed the back of your neck and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his hard body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up again.

You moaned out loud at the new sensation of him rocking into you from behind. Bucky’s hand found its way to your front and he pressed the palm of his hand against your lower abdomen. He liked the thrill each time he felt himself thrusting deep within you.

His hand travelled all the way to your throat and he bent down to whisper in your ear, “Can you feel me deep within you?” he boasted as he gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind.

“Please…” You could only moan and whimper in response while he kept pounding into you incessantly. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm. And finally he let you, and you came undone all around him – moaning his name out loud.

-

You woke up an hour later, the sky was darker and you felt a lot better than you had all week. You turned to your side and found your handsome boss passed out next to you. A smile formed on your face involuntarily.

“Don’t just look, you can touch too.” His gruff voice spoke up a second later, his eyes still closed. You chuckled and snuggled closer to him.

“So what now?” you asked, wrapping an arm around his bare torso. His body heat was something you were quickly getting used to.

He took a deep breath, smiled and lazily reached over to place a kiss on your forehead. “Now you let me love you.”

[sariahsue]

The Gift of Her Name

Chapter Three Gossamor

Ch 1 Ch 2

Two days after the magazine was published, Chat Noir stormed through his patrol, temper still close to boiling, and made only worse by the fact that he wanted to tell Ladybug everything, every single detail, and could tell her nothing. The beat of his heart told him to forget secret identities, forget Hawk Moth and his threatening presence that hung over them every day. But he knew he couldn't.

No akumas had come for him since the magazine announcement. (Not even his stalker. He could only imagine how she was feeling about it.) But the strain of waiting added to his raw anger, making him want to snap at everyone and everything. If he just had something to fight, something constructive to do…

The rendezvous point for that afternoon's patrol was a small apartment complex overlooking the Seine. His boots clacked against the old shingles as he walked to the small outline of his partner standing at the roof's edge. He was met with a very defeated-looking Ladybug. Her shoulders were hunched. Her hair was limp. And even though she wasn't looking at him, he could see her blinking rapidly, like she was on the verge of tears again. It tempered his anger.

"Are you okay?"

"He's with someone else."

"Oh, Bug, I'm so sorry." He reached for her, one hand at a time, pulling her slowly in and wrapping her up as much as he could in a protective hug.

Ladybug cracked under his compassion and started crying into his shoulder. Warm breath fanned his neck. "He knows I've been trying to contact him for months, and now he's with someone else."

Her head was heavy on his shoulder. Her hands were loose fists on his chest, like she wished she could punch something but couldn't find the energy.

There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say that would make it better, so he said nothing and just held her until her tears slowed and finally stopped.

With a shuddering breath, she straightened up, but didn't step away. Her nose was red, her face splotchy, and as she looked at him, he couldn't figure out what kind of idiot would choose someone else if Ladybug were their soulmate.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked.

She shrugged. "There's nothing to say. He knows where I am, knows that I'm trying to meet him." She looked away then, tears reforming in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill onto her mask. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and continued with a steady voice. "And he doesn't want me."

"Hey," Chat Noir cut in. "Maybe you're better off without him."

"What? That's not what you said before."

"Maybe your family's right. This guy sounds like a jerk. If he can give up someone as amazing as you, you can definitely pass on someone as terrible as him."

Ladybug smiled sadly at the compliment, but she shook her head. "I can't give him up. I keep hoping that we'll meet some day and he'll realize how happy we'd be together. I don't think I could ever be satisfied with being with someone else, knowing they're not my perfect match. It would be fair to either of us."

"Wow."

"What?"

"The pragmatic Ladybug is secretly a romantic at heart. Who knew?"

"You're one to talk, you sap."

Her little hint of a smile, barely enough to earn the name, broke through his own deepening clouds. She was feeling good enough to tease him, and it made him smile for the first time in days.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what? Moping?"

"Yes," he said. "And for revealing your true nature as a hopeless romantic, even though it goes against your reputation for being as tough as nails."

She snorted.

"I mean it. I know how hard you try to be brave for the city. There's not a lot of people who get to see you upset. I'm honored."

"You're weird is what you are. I've never had anyone thank me for crying all over them before."

"I'm pretty sure you wiped your nose on me too."

She shoved him. "I did not. Now are we patrolling or what? Paris needs two tough-looking teenagers to remind them they're safe from evil or something." She took off without waiting for his answer, but he was right behind her, guarding her back, as always.

---

Patrol was uneventful, and that was a shame.

Chat Noir's restlessness got worse the longer he looked for things going wrong in the city. But every so often, Ladybug would swing into his view, sending grateful smiles in his direction. It was hard to stay upset when he was out there with his best friend.

The relative peace was broken with a shriek that cut off as quickly as it started. Ladybug caught his eye again, but this time a hard line of determination gleamed underneath. And then they were moving toward the sound of the screams.

It wasn't hard to find the akuma. She was standing in the middle of a dead street, glowing green, seven feet tall, her hair rippling around her like she was underwater, a long rapier in her left hand. Her gossamer clothing flowed around her, floating and ethereal. Traffic had completely stopped all around where she was. Cars had been tossed out of the road and onto the sidewalk. Dozens of people lay crumpled at her feet. Chat Noir avoided looking at them too hard.

So, it was going to be one of those akumas.

They landed in the middle of the street, and the three sized each other up. Next to him, Ladybug gasped. "Look what she has in her hand."

"Yeah, I saw. Looks deadly."

"No." Ladybug pointed. "The magazine."

Chat Noir looked again. In her left hand was the rapier, glinting in the afternoon sun. In her right was something like a rolled up newspaper. She was holding it out like a scepter, and it was glowing purple.

"That's the magazine," Ladybug said. "The article about Adrien."

"What-" he started.

"I am Gossamor, and Adrien should be mine!" the akuma yelled. "He's the love of my life and he should be mine!"

Chat Noir's stomach swooped. He knew that article was going to get someone akumatized. This had to be the stalker that had been hanging around his house and photoshoots for the past few weeks. Why couldn't she just move on and leave him alone?

Gossamor streaked toward them like a green flame, and Chat Noir just barely brought his baton up in time to parry her thrust. He wasn't used to fighting someone left-handed, and it made the fight all the harder.

He managed to knock her out of the way, and her sword slashed clean through the car next to her like it was tissue paper. That blade was deadly. Fortunately, she didn't do anything with the magazine except clutch it tightly to herself. That was good. One weapon was bad enough.

"We need to get it away from her," Ladybug said, trying to trip her up with the yoyo string.

"I agree," he said. "Cats like playing with ribbons but I'd rather not be sliced to ribbon."

"No, I meant the magazine."

"What? The sword first. Do you see that thing? Look how pointy it is!"

Trying to keep the tone of fights light was a job he took very seriously. It took effort and quick thinking - which he should have saved for dodging. An overhead strike caught him off guard, and only Ladybug's quick reflexes and yoyo kept his skull in one piece. In the few seconds it took to untangle him from the string, Gossamor took off, bounding down the street with jumps easily four times a normal person's and leaping out of sight.

"She's going after Adrien," Ladybug whispered, eyes so wide he could see the whites all the way around them. She shook herself, and when she spoke again her voice was firmer. "His house. We need to get there first."

He was going to tell her that was a good idea, they could lay a trap. Or better yet, they could cut her off before she got close. (He'd rather not have an akuma trash his room, thank you.) But Ladybug took off before he could even open his mouth to respond.

She sped across rooftops, at a pace so quick that it left him winded and gave him no chance to shout out his idea to her.

What was with her? The akuma hadn't shown any enhanced speed or flight. They were far enough from the mansion that it would take Gossamor several minutes to get there on foot. And yet Ladybug pushed herself harder, and Chat Noir struggled to keep up with her until they landed on his front step and barrelled through the door.

The atrium was deserted, thank goodness. Ladybug's head swung around, searching. Without explaining what he was doing, he closed the door and hit the panic button on the security panel. Bolts and metal plates slid into place.

"What?" she asked. Her eyes tracked the bars that descended over the windows.

"It would have been easier to catch her in the street," Chat Noir said. "We could have cut her off."

"We have to protect Adrien," she said. "He's the target." Her normal steely tone was still there, but there was an edge behind it, something he wasn't used to seeing from her. A wildness that told him something was very wrong.

"And if we'd gotten her on the way over we would've kept her away from him?"

She ignored him, running up the stairs and to the right, toward the bedroom wing.

"Ladybug!" His legs were longer than hers, and he reached her as she wrenched open the first door, an unused guest room. She choked off a gasp as she turned away from the sight of a perfectly made bed and an open door that led to an empty closet. No Adrien there.

She pushed past him, bolting to the next door in the line, a bathroom.

"Ladybug! He's not here."

The third, a linen closet. "You don't know that!"

He caught her by the wrists before she could get to the fourth door, his bedroom.

"Let go!" Her eyes were wide and wild, searching even as he held her still.

"Everyone's probably in a safe room by now. Big houses like this always have one." And this one had six. Hopefully that's where his father and the rest of the staff were heading now. "We just broke in and haven't seen anyone. He's hiding." Ladybug struggled against his hands, but he tightened his grip until she looked at him. "We're not going to find Adrien because he's already safe."

She stared at him, uncomprehending. Logic wasn't working, which was a concerning sign, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Maybe she needed actionable steps.

"Call Lucky Charm," he urged, trying to push confidence and a sense of safety into his partner, but he wasn't even sure she was listening. Her gaze was glazed, her attention far away. "The akuma's almost here. Let's set up a trap while we still have a chance."

Her gaze refocused on a point over his shoulder and she turned and walked back in the direction they'd come, back to the front door. Chat Noir felt himself relax slightly. Now they could get something accomplished. He did a quick scan of his surroundings. Not much to work with for a trap, but they'd been in worse–

Ladybug sprinted back toward the front door.

"Hey!"

When she gave no indication that she'd heard him, he ran after her, placing himself in front of her at the top of the stairs and grabbed her shoulders so she was forced to look at him.

"Ladybug, what is going on? You're not usually like this."

She gasped, like she'd been holding in her breath for far too long. Terror. It was terror hiding behind the steel in her eyes. She shook underneath his hands.

"He's my soulmate!" She grabbed his arm with her free hand, like she needed something to hold her steady.

Blood rushed in his ears. "Who?"

"Adrien." 

Read chapter four here

---

Author's note: Hi! *waves* There's more art for this chapter! Check out @ladyofthenoodle!

One more chapter!

Tag list: @tbehartoo, @bakergirl13 @fifthmambo @trippingovermyfeet

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (5)

This is going to be the last part I am going to post in a while. My school is finally starting up again and I am sure to be swamped with homework. Without further ado. Enjoy ❤

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 4)

-----------

Damian laid in bed, thinking about the recent turn of events. Lady, who told them that they can call her Marinette since they might as well get acquainted while the Waynes were in Paris. She had found out Jason’s identity after a few google searches and by extension, the rest of the Bats while they both were taking a shower. It had taken a few arguments and one sentimonster attack that cut one of the arguments short to trust the Dupain-Chengs with their secret identities. His bride was apparently a superhero too. Has been for a few years. In a different world, he might have actually dated her out of his own free will and fought crime with her together.

Damian shook his head at that thought.

That was the curse talking. Get a hold of yourself, Wayne. Resist. Don’t think about Marinette and her blue eyes.

Back to the akumas, Paris had been under the control of a magical terrorist for years. Lady Noire, formerly known as Ladybug, formed a team to battle against him. He also found out about the Guardian who chose Marinette and someone else, who wasn’t spoken about much except that his name was Chat Noir and she now wields his ring temporarily, to fight against Hawkmoth as partners. The same Guardian that promised her hand-in-marriage in exchange for protection from the League of Assassins. Sabine, the Blue Reaper, had to be restrained from killing the old amnesiatic man by her bear of a husband who was reluctant to do so and also wanted to help her.

Hawkmoth also had a partner who went by the name, Mayura, with a power similar to his and could create sentimonster out of negative emotions. Their top suspect was Gabriel Agreste, with much evidence pointing his way but they had difficulty trying to confirm it and had the time to gather evidence to do it. The local authorities were helpful but getting a search warrant for a famous, rich designer who was a known recluse with circumstantial evidence is not possible.

After informing their father of their kidnapping and the situation in Paris (and racking up the Dupain-Cheng's phone bill), they were told to stay there and help as much as they can. Tim, who was coming to Paris for a vacation (suspicious), got his plans hijacked and was now going to help uncover Hawkmoth’s identity.

When the Justice League had reached out a few years ago, they were rebuffed by the Mayor. Nightrunner got into contact with the one of the heroes, Ladybug who asked for a meeting outside of Paris with Wonder Woman and Batman came along, to assess her. They didn’t expect a young girl to be Paris’s heroine.

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

3 years ago…

“Bonjour, Princess Diana of Themyscira, daughter of Hippolayta, it is an honour to meet you. And you too, Batman.” The spotted heroine greeted both of them with Nightrunner besides her. Their meeting point was in the gardens in the Palace of Versailles.

“The pleasure is all mine, Ladybug. But I am confused as to why you have refused the Justice League’s help.” Wonder Woman was worried that the Ladybug Miraculous was active again and for many good reasons.

“I would be glad for some help but Paris is run by an incompetent fool. He wants no one outside of Paris to think that the city is unsafe due to Hawkmoth and keep the tourism numbers high. The other reason is that my Miraculous Cure can restore any physical damages done during a fight and involving you might result in more damages than I could cure. But I also think it would be better if there were less powerful heroes in Paris, akumas amplifies one’s power and I don’t want to fight you after you had a bad day.” Ladybug explained. Nightrunner murmured in agreement.

“Do you know how Hawkmoth operates?” asked Batman. He had read reports of the situation but wondered the true extent of it.

“Have Wonder Woman explained to you about the Miraculous?”

He nodded.

“Hawkmoth has the butterfly miraculous, and it has the power of transmission. In the right hands, they would be used to grant ordinary people powers as the user’s champions. But in the hands of Hawkmoth, he targets people with high negative emotions, a girl after a bad break-up or a student with a failed grade. He grants them powers to use for revenge or some obscure version of justice. In return, he asks for mine and Chat Noir’s miraculous. With our two miraculous, he can make a wish but wishes always come with a price so it is best if we keep it out of his reach.”

“How have you not captured him yet?”

“Hawkmoth is a coward who rarely comes out to face us. I have never met him face-to-face. He uses people to get what he wants. Not very honourable. The Mayor has refused to help my attempts to stop him or prevent more akumas because his bratty daughter isn’t given a Miraculous to be a hero. I don’t have the time or resources because I am still in school and have other obligations outside the suit. I can’t tell my family and ask for help because the Guardian’s ,the one who gave me the Miraculous in the first place, secret identities rule and some magic thing that makes me unable to tell them.”

The adults were all horrified at what the girl was going through.

“We could help in other ways. Not fight the akumas but provide you the resources to track down and capture him. Do you have any training? From the footage we have seen, you know martial arts and how to use some weapons.”

“I was raised in a forgotten temple somewhere in Asia with brutal training everyday before I ran away. I met someone on my way out who took me in and adopted me.” She said it seriously enough that they have no room for doubt.

“Batman, she just said she was adopted. She may have the features but the answer is no.” Wonder Woman said with a knowing look in her eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking about it. She has a duty to Paris right now and I am not going to take away from her life here. I don’t adopt every black-haired and blue-eyed child I see.” Batman denied.

“I am confused.” Ladybug said, tilting her head.

“Batman here has a bad habit of adopting kids with a tragic past, especially kids with black hair and blue eyes.” Nightrunner explained to his fellow Parisian hero.

“Well, Mousier, you will have to fight my parents for custody. While I have training, Chat Noir doesn’t and he hinders the battles with his ‘help’. I would give him some but he sees them as dates even though I have told him it’s not.”

“His incompetence is a liability. Why is he your partner?”

“The Guardian chose him too like he chose me through some stupid trial I somehow passed the requirements for. I am just hoping that there is a really good reason for choosing Chat Noir. I have some questions on how you are-”

“Ladybug, what are you doing?” A sharp voice cut in. An old man who appeared to be dressed as a tortoise landed in front of them.

“Master Fu, this is Princess Diana of Themyscira and the world’s greatest detective, Batman. I am asking for their help in finding Hawkmoth.” Ladybug explained, confused why Master Fu looked upset.

“Ladybug, that was extremely foolish of you. This is a matter of the Order. You shouldn’t have involved other heroes in it. We can resolve this on our own. I apologize on behalf of her for wasting your time.”

“But, Master-” “We will talk about this later, Ladybug. You are young and don’t understand things yet.”

“Guardian, with all due respect, my mother was a Ladybug wielder herself and the Amazons will lend a hand to any miraculous holders in need.”

“It is appreciated but Ladybug, Chat Noir and I can do it on our own. Come along, Ladybug.”

“Let me at least apologize for my mistake, Guardian.”

“Very well. Meet me later.”

“I am sorry but it looks like I have to fight Hawkmoth without your help. That being said please don’t try to look further into Hawkmoth’s identity and leave any notes of your leads in the mouth of the gargoyle on the northside of Notre Dame where I usually rest after I finish patrol. Salut, Princess Diana, Batman, Nightrunner.” She left using her yo-yo to swing away after giving them a wink.

Batman smirked. He had to give it to Ladybug, she was clever and resourceful and Diana was right, he wanted to adopt her.

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

Present time…

(Words in bold are French)

Now that the previous Guardian was out of the picture, the Miraculous team would gladly accept any help they can get.

Damian and Jason had picked up Tim from the airport and they had already set things up in one of the Wayne penthouses in Paris. Less chance of nosy maids than in a hotel.

Bilal had already handed over all the evidence he could find. He was also one of the Miraculous team’s trainers when Sabine couldn’t make it. Jason and Damian were going to help in training and be back-up heroes when needed. (Bilal wore a miraculous once to help out. And that one time was weird enough to last him a lifetime and he was never doing it again.)

Sadly, all the magic users who were allies or part of the JL were busy with other missions or MIA so they couldn’t break Damian’s curse yet. Bruce didn’t see the problem with the curse so unless it causes major problems or someone is free to break it. They couldn’t go back to Gotham until they got the necessary things in order so it looks like they were going to be in Paris for a while.

The next morning, Tim was nowhere to be found. Because they were paranoid Batboys, they tracked his phone to see him at the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery with Marinette and a group of other people, having breakfast.

“There you are, Replacement.” Jason shouted as he entered the bakery, “So, this is where you were? I see you have already figured out who Ladybug is and met her.”

Marinette looked at Damian and Jason, then at Tim and back at them again.

Oh.

Oh.

She face-palmed as she connected the dots and realized what the nagging feeling she had around Tim was about.

“Oh my Kwamis, you are Tim Drake, adopted by Bruce Wayne aka Batman. Jason and Damian are your brothers. And judging by your build, you are Red Robin. I feel so stupid.”

Thankfully, there were no customers around yet to hear some of the world’s most important secrets being out.

“I am- We are not- Bruce isn’t- How?! How the hell did you find out? And you are Ladybug?!” Tim was floundering at Marinette’s words and the caffeine from his first coffee of the day hadn’t kicked in yet. He looked at her friends, who were looking at the Wayne boys with shocked expressions….and looked similar to the rest of the Miraculous Team.

The caffeine finally kicked in.

“Oh my God. I was talking to the entire Miraculous Team and I didn’t know it. That means Chloe Bourgeois is a hero. That bratty blonde I met as a child is a hero.”

“Speak for yourself, Timothy, my childhood friend is a hero too. I can’t believe we are all heroes.” Chloe said in total disbelief.

Introductions and alter egos were exchanged.

Nearly everything went swimmingly if it weren’t for Chloe jokingly elbowed Marinette and said, “You get to date a hero too. No need to worry about flaking out on dates.”

“What do you mean dates? Dupain-Cheng and I aren’t dating.” Damian said, “My mother wanted us to marry each other, not date.”

“Mari, looks like you need some explaining to do.”

Marinette gave the short story on how she met Damian and Jason.

“So you guys are absolutely not dating? Cool. Tim, are you still open to being Mari-bug's fake boyfriend?” Chloe asked. Tim looked at her incredulously.

“You called me all the way here to fake-date your friend. Why? Not that I am complaining about her or anything.” “There is this boy in our class, Adrien Agreste and he has a little obsession with Marinette.” Chloe explained. “Romantic Soulmates.” Nathaniel chimed in, doing air-quotes.

“So I volunteered on your behalf to be my best friend’s long-distance boyfriend in America who has video-call dates with her once a week. You are going to have little romantic dates coincidently where our classmates are going to be, especially Adrien. It might put him off from pursuing Marinette for a while. After you leave, we are just to mention you every now and then to prevent him from getting any ideas.”

Damian felt a hot, burning sensation in his chest and clenched his jaw at the thought of Marin- Dupain-Cheng holding hands, cuddling and doing all those romantic actions with Drake of all people. (No, he wasn’t jealous. Not at all. Don’t be stupid. )

“Tch, Drake is going to be busy trying to find Hawkmoth. He can’t go around Paris, being Dupain-Cheng’s boyfriend. Besides, he can’t be a proper boyfriend even in his most lucid moments. I will be her boyfriend instead.”

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(PART 6)

[intercoursefluids]

You Lied to Me?

The Wayne Enterprises building was the most beautiful building Marinette had ever seen. The tour guide was a very sweet man and he loved telling jokes to try to get the class to laugh.

Unfortunately, Lila was on a roll today, lying about knowing the Waynes and growing up with the youngest son, and finding out that they were true mates.

Even if she was claiming that her true mate was Prince Ali a week before the trip was announced, god forbid Marinette points that out and makes Lila shed her crocodile tears.

Even Adrien, her own mate, took Lilas's side and yelled at her for pointing out her lies when she should just stay quiet.

It ended up leading into a huge argument between them that Marinette had to apologize for to get him to talk to her after 3 long weeks of him ignoring her existence.

“Bruce Wayne funds multiple charities around the world in honor of his late parents, he has several adoptive children and a single blood son. Bruce typically keeps his children out of the spotlight and most Gothamites are very good about keeping pictures with them off of the internet.”

As the tour guide talks, Marinette reaches out her hand for Adrien's just for him to brush her off and step away from her.

Wrapping her arms around herself she leaves his side to stand next to the tour guide. At least he tells jokes and tries to make this interesting.

Damian's POV:

“Master Damian, you should start heading to the office if you want to catch Master Dick before his lunch break is over.”

Running his hands over his face he thanks Alfred before grabbing his jacket and starting his car up.

He needed Dick to sign off on his trip to Paris, France since he was his temporary guardian until Father got back from his honeymoon with Selina.

Pulling up to the building he stops. Not because of the bright yellow bus sitting in the parking lot, no, it's because of the intoxicating scent of baked goods, plants, and rain wafting through the air.

Following the smell leads him to the tour group Grayson is leading into the cafeteria.

Walking to Grayson's side he passes him the permission slip, trying to understand why he wants to be near the Blue haired angel getting a lunch tray.

“Grayson, how can you tell if you’ve found your true mate?”

Grayson startles looking up from signing the papers.

“Well, their scent is one way, they will smell like absolute heaven to you and you can’t help but follow it. Another way is that when you see them you want to touch them so you can get your scent on them as well, and when you do touch them, it's electrifying. Literally and figuratively. Do you think you found them?”

Damian nods, his eyes following his mate as she looks for a table to sit at.

“She’s right there. The one with the blue hair.”

Grayson smiles, clapping Damian on the shoulder.

“She’s pretty.”

Damian snorts responding without even thinking.

“She’s beautiful, Grayson. ‘Pretty’ doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

Grayson coos at Damian, being thoroughly ignored.

Damian starts walking towards her, intent on introducing himself when he catches another scent just beneath hers.

Another male’s scent.

He freezes in place making Grayson stop his cooing to instead question him.

“What's wrong? Is it not her?”

Damian watches as she walks to a seat at an empty table away from the rest of her group.

“She-”

Damian cuts off as he watches someone stick out their foot and trip her. Her lunch spills everywhere as she falls to the floor.

Not thinking twice he rushes over to her, holding out his hand and helping her up.

Just like Grayson said little shocks travel up and down his arm and he finds himself never wanting to let go.

She has the most beautiful blue eyes he's ever seen and the most angelic voice he's eve- Oh wait she's talking.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going and tripped, I’m so sorry!”

Damian just shakes his head, motioning for one of the janitors to come over and clean up the mess.

When he arrives she automatically drops down beside him to help pick up the mess muttering apologize the entire time.

Damian shifts his hand to her shoulder, subconsciously marking her with his scent and trying to overpower the other males.

“It’s fine honey, this stuff happens all the time. Why don’t you go hop back in line and get another tray? We wouldn’t want you to go hungry now.”

With the janitor's gentle prodding she finally stands up and gets another tray.

On her way back, Damian makes sure to keep an eye out for anyone else who wants to trip her.

The rest of lunch goes smoothly as she takes a seat at the table she was heading to and Damian watches her from his spot next to his brother.

Everything goes fine until they are about to finish the tour. A guy with blonde hair roughly grabs the girl with blue hair pulling her off to the side.

“Ow! Adrien, what’s wrong?”

Damian watches from Grayson's side, wanting to go help but certain she can handle herself.

“You know exactly what you did, Marinette. Don’t play stupid.”

A low growl leaves his chest as his mate is insulted.

“Adrien, you’re not making any sense. What did I do?”

He grabs both her wrists, shaking her violently.

“You belong to me! You are mine Marinette! Trying to get me jealous by flirting with that other guy? Really?! How low can you sink?! It's pathetic!”

She pushes away from him, rubbing at her wrists with the start of a bruise forming.

Damian starts to make his way over, a low, vicious rumbling in the back of his throat.

Grayson, seeing how mad Damian follows him.

“What the hell are you talking about?! I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I fell because Lila stuck her foot out and tripped me! It wasn’t my fault!”

Their argument starts to attract the attention of the other workers, a few running to find security.

Damian starts running as he watches the guy's hand clench before raising it.

He strikes her. Hard.

‘Marinette’ being caught off guard, loses her balance and falls to the ground, turning to look at him before he roughly grabs her by one of her pigtails and pulls her up to his face, and screams at her.

“Don’t talk back to me! I own you and you will do as I say! Do you understand?!”

She pushes him away.

“Whoever decided that you were my true mate was wrong. Dead wrong!”

He snarls, pulling his fist back to strike her.

Damian gets there first.

The next thing everyone knows is Damian Wayne is standing protectively in front of the girl and the guy is several feet away clutching his cheek and groaning.

Grayson kneels next to Marinette, helping her to her feet and taking Damian’s coat from his outstretched hand to wrap around her shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

She nods as he pulls her closer to him away from the fight that is likely to break out before a loud screeching voice cuts through the air.

“True mates? With him? Please Marinette, I knew you were ignorant but I didn’t think you were stupid. I am Adriens true mate. Not you.”

Damian stands up making his way to Marinette, taking her in his arms as she starts to shake.

“What are you talking about Lila? Adrien was there on my birthday, he said we were mates!”

‘Lila’ cackles as other people gasp, some with their phones out recording the entire thing.

“Oh please, did you just take his word for it? Why didn’t you just check his scent? That’s always been the easiest way to tell. Go ahead, I won’t even mess with you.”

She stays frozen looking straight at the boy claiming to be her mate.

“I can’t. I lost my sense of smell when I was a kid. I couldn’t check even if I wanted to.”

Lila looks surprised now, before looking on sadly.

“You really had no idea he was lying, did you?”

She starts shaking, taking a hesitant step towards Adrien.

“Adrien? W-what's she talking about? It’s not true. Is it?”

Her voice ends in a broken whisper, eyes tearing up as he slowly stands up and walks to her.

“You are mine, Marinette. You were mine the moment you put on those earrings. I mean seriously if I don’t take you who will?”

She flinches as he steps closer, his voice getting louder with hysteria.

“Nobody likes you, Mari! I am all you have left now! You want to leave me? HA! I’d like to see you try it.”

At the end of his ‘speech’ he roughly grabs her arm pulling a whimper from her and a very, VERY dangerous sounding snarl from Damian.

Ripping Adrien's hand from her arm while being as gentle as possible to not hurt her he pulls her behind him handing her off to his brothers entrusting them to take care of her.

“Who do you think you are grabbing her like that?”

The words are accentuated with the deep growl rumbling from his chest.

“I don’t see how it's any of your business, what I do with MY personal belongings.”

Damian picks Adrien up by his neck slamming him against the nearest wall.

“Don’t talk about her like she's an object.”

Adrien, being the Buffon with no sense of self-preservation he is, laughs.

“Oh yeah? What's it to you how I treat her? Not like you would want her for anything other than her body anyway.”

Adrien sneers down at Damian, even as he slowly starts to turn purple in the face from his grip on his neck.

Slowly tightening his grip even more he watches as the blonde idiot starts to flail from the lack of breathing. Fighting to get a single breath of air.

“Do not act as if I would ever treat my mate in such a way.”

His voice is deadly, sending shivers down even the security guards spines.

Everyone watches on, some with their phones recording, certain that they are about to see Damian Wayne, their bosses son, about to commit a murder in the lobby.

And no one is even going to try and stop him.

That is until a small pale hand lands on his arm, shooting sparks all the way to his heart.

“Is it true? Are you really my true mate?”

Damian nods ever so slowly, never taking his eyes off the blonde who is slowly losing consciousness.

Two thin, lethal arms wrap around his waist from behind.

“Please stop. I just want to leave right now. Will you take me?”

Without another word Damian drops the barely conscious man, taking his coat off and wrapping it around Marinette's shoulders, tucking her into his side as he swiftly walks her out of the building.

Adrien slowly gets up, trying to chase after them only to be cut short by the three eldest Wayne brothers.

All armed with glares that could kill.

Behind them stands all of the Wayne enterprises employees, making a human barrier between the newly found mates and Adrien.

The brother with the white piece of hair steps forward pushing Adrien back down to the ground.

“I think we need to have a little talk.”