#if only i putted this much research to my damn work sheet tHAT'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE

[magicxc]

Call On Me

Pairings: Idris Elba x Black!Reader

Word Count: 1523

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Fellatio, Choking

BBJ Masterlist

“C’mon angel, put it in all the way.”

“Idris, it wont fit and I’m not about to make it either.”

“Just let me help you push it in, you’re not doing it right.”

“No, cause then it’ll stretch.”

“It’s elastic, so it’ll snap back.”

“We’re still here daddy, I can just get another size as opposed to destroying this one.”

“I mean if you want your jeans to fit like sweatpants, then go for it.”

“You’re so dramatic, it simply doesn’t fit, and you’ll love me either way; sweat pants or not.”

“I mean yeah, of course but it’s drip or drown; and if you're gonna be with me, then you’ve got to be drippin.”

Sometimes it’s best to ignore him. God knows I love my boyfriend, but I can’t with the shit that comes out of his mouth. It’s like somebody teleported him back to 2017 and he’s readjusting to the present life. 

Albeit fashion is a big deal to Idris, I’ll give him that. But I, for one, value comfort over everything. It’s just one of those things we’ve come to meet in the middle about, though he’ll still try and rearrange my wardrobe if given the chance. 

“Idris, can you add this to the ‘maybe’ pile in the corner please?”

Taking the pants from me, he neatly hangs it up in the corner of the room, uttering how even tho my clothes aren’t dripping, he can be.

“Oh my goodness,” I laugh. “Really? Tell me you’re joking.”

“Now why would I do that mhmm? In fact I remember a time when stargazing in public was on both of our bucket lists.”

“Yes, in the car or under a moonlit beach not the damn mall,” I gushed. “Idris nothing about this says private.”

“Is that not the point of PUBLIC stargazing,” he enunciated.

Ahh yes, stargazing - an act in which one can observe the many stars of the galaxy sometimes as a hobby or sometimes for scientific research. Of course our star gazing meant something vastly different. Even though we didn’t need a telescope to see them, there was still that warm and fuzzy feeling when they did appear. 

You see Idris and I have a thing for code words. It’s used mostly when gossiping about people or situations. But recently it's become a fun new way for us to describe sexy times in front of others. 

How real would it be to blurt out amongst your friends that you just want to take your lover home and become one with the sheets? I’m sure they’d understand but I’m not tryna let people know every time I want my back blown out. So instead we came up with a way to state our intentions without having to dance around certain words. 

For example, Sunday dinners with the family goes something along the lines of 'do you want to go stargazing afterward?' Similarly to how it's socially acceptable to tell your loved ones that you and your partner are trying for a baby but not that their pussy turns into a mini day care every night; except our family hasn’t quite caught onto the the fact that neither of us so much as own a telescope; though I fear it’s only a matter of time until they do. 

I’m not as sexually daring as Idris but I refuse to punk out of this. He thinks that I’ll back out of stargazing simply because we’re in a public place where people can hear us? Let's be clear, I absolutely would, but the way my competitive nature is set up, I’ll stargaze with him. Shit, he better be ready to see the milky way too, cause I’ll be damned if I don’t make him cry for me. 

“You know what daddy, drop em,” I demanded, chin pointing toward his pants. “Gone ahead and give me something shiny to see.”

To say that he was shocked would be an understatement, bug eyed and eager as he runs his tongue across those juicy lips. He doesn’t let that falter him for long and makes quick work of the buckle of his pants. And my God if that action isn’t my personal little aphrodisiac. 

Knees hitting the floor, I watch in awe as his dick springs free, pre cum slowly dribbling from the tip. 

“You this wet already for me?” I tease. “Tell me exactly how you want it.”

“Use your mouth.”

“Nuh uh, use your words,” I insist. 

“Start by getting the tip nice and drenched for me angel,” Idris lamented. 

Inching closer to the head, I open my mouth and spit on it, watching intently as it trails down to the floor. 

“Now what?”

Smirking, he asks me to drain his balls entirely and I work on doing just that. 

Gathering the tip of his penis in my mouth,  I use the wetness to help me suction him. Cheeks hallowed and teeth tucked, I make sure to maximize on his sensitivity; tongue twirling around that mini slit lined at the head. 

His thighs quake ever so slightly, which only pushes me to suck in earnest, making sure to keep the tip nestled against my tongue. 

Fingers cradled behind me, I lock them together, opting instead for hands free head so I can really talk my shit once we’re done. 

Deciding it’s time to show some love to the rest of his lengthy member, I slow my ministrations and softly run my tongue along his shaft; tracing each thick and hardened vein - starstruck at Idris’ skin, a rich shade of chestnut. 

This part always gives me some trouble, but I’m willing to sacrifice a little comfort if it means I can hear him sing for me; and quite frankly he’s not doing enough of it. 

Bobbing my head steadily, it takes a minute for me to gain some traction, mouth now sliding along his dick with ease. His hips start a slow thrust and I bounce my head a little quicker, twisting from side to side as I do so. 

Finally, it’s drenched enough for me to take the entirety of him, stopping only when I reach the base of his shaft. His dick is properly lodged down my throat and I do everything I can to breathe through my nose, slight gagging noises making its way past my lips. 

As quiet as he tries to be, the harsh hissing that meets my ear encourages me to make quick work of him, bobbing in short, rapid successions, listening intently as his groans turn into quiet moans. 

Face planted against his coily pubes, they’re trimmed to perfection, the tropical notes of his coconut body wash lingering inside my nose. The deep, onyx color glistens with a mixture of precum and spit, similar to that of stars littered against the never ending black hole of space, as they softly tickle my cheeks.

Dislodging him completely to take a much needed breath, the cool air feels icy against my drool ridden chin. Tears brimmed at my eyes and pussy clenching against fabric, this dressing room is fixing to see way more than just changing of the clothes. 

“You wanna cum?” I taunted. “Make those pretty noises for me and I just might let you.”

Dick jumping in anticipation, I decide to head down south and give a little love to the overlooked - his ball sac. 

Slurping them in my mouth, I swish them around, mapping over the textured skin. His girthy member sits on my forehead, wet and dripping; adding to the soaked mess down under. 

I get a light hum in return and suction him to a the very fine line of pleasure and pain. A breathy moan follows and his hand soon finds itself planted at the root of my scalp. 

Thankfully he cant see the smirk that lines my lips and I give his balls a few more swirls before I set them free with a loud pop. 

“Haaaah”, is the desperate whine that I hear above me, but somehow I need more. 

Dick once again at the bottom of my throat I remove it until I get to the very tip and slam it back down again. 

“Just like that daddy, keep it up and I can make it real good for you.” 

*slurp*

“What’s my name? Huh? Let these bitches know who’s making you quiver like the slut you are.”

*slurp*

“C’mon and cum for me like I know you can, Idris.”

The fingers once tangled in my hair soon find themselves wrapped around my throat, squeezing me with just enough pressure to remind me how little control I actually have here. And while it was fun while it lasted, feminism doesn't exist with his hand around my neck. 

“Open wide for me angel.”

Tongue slithering past my teeth, I lay it flat for a full display, watching intently as he jerks himself to the finish line and in my mouth. 

He shouts his release, a little higher in pitch than I expected, chanting my name like the prayer it is. 

“Now close your mouth and swallow like I know you can,” he grunted. 

[internerdionality]

In honor of Fuck or Die Fifteenth of September...

Here's an excerpt (below the cut) from my current Fuck or Die fic featuring Nathan Stark, Jack Carter, and Allison Blake of the Eureka fandom, which was supposed to be a short PWP and supposed to be all ready to post today...

But as usual, I just had to take that crackfic ultra seriously, which means it's now a 60K novel and climbing. I'll hopefully start posting in the next couple of months, follow me here or on AO3 if you're interested in reading more!

“I made up a list of all the people who are cleared to know about GD-175, and have volunteered to help,” Allison said. Her voice was irritatingly soft and empathetic. Coddling him. “I thought you’d want to know that every single person who was cleared for the information—with two exceptions, both of whom aren’t at all attracted to men—volunteered.” 

Jack snorted as he took the single sheet of paper with a—very—short list on it.  “Sure. ‘Volunteered’. Heard that one before.” 

Allison frowned (still empathetically. She was starting to remind him of his third-grade teacher. Unfortunately, that still wasn’t a turn-off. Although that might just be the sex virus talking. Damn this town). 

“I didn’t put any pressure on them, Carter,” she said. “Every person on that list knows that your life is on the line, and has willingly consented to do what’s necessary to save you. And you should know—”

“Dr. Allison Blake,” Jack read off the first name. A white wave of numbness crashed over him.  

She nodded, determination firming up her lips. “I’m happy to—” 

“No,” he said quickly. Almost without conscious thought, but a second of reflection just cemented the decision. “Absolutely not.” 

She couldn’t hide the flash of offended hurt that crossed through her eyes, and he cocked his head to the side, softening. 

“Hey. No, Allison, jeez. Not like that. Of course I would… It’s just… Look. We work together, and I’ve never wanted to make that awkward, and yeah, I’m still a little mad about you keeping things from me that could endanger the town, but… That doesn’t mean I’ve completely given up on us, okay? Let’s just say, I'm not ready to poison this well before it even, uh, starts to fill up with water? I might be letting this metaphor run away with me a bit…” 

He rubbed the back of his head, laughing self-deprecatingly. But it worked—those gorgeous, expressive brown eyes warmed, and she tilted her head down just slightly, looking up at him bashfully through long eyelashes. Hell yeah. He’d known there was something there, even if the moment had never been quite right between them. 

Which was why he wasn’t going to let their first time be some kind of pity fuck, of all idiotic things. No matter how much his dick was screaming at him not to let her walk away. 

“Look, you’re totally sure that you can’t just fix this with a needle or something?” he begged her, holding on to his last vestige of denial. 

“If you’re volunteering to get stabbed, I know it really is bad. I’m sorry, Carter,” she said, and the rueful smile with which she’d delivered the joke dropped away. “We already tried the only synthetic treatment we have, and it didn’t work for about 15% of the exposed patients, you included. Masters and Johnson aside, there hasn’t been nearly enough scientific research into human sexuality involving practical studies.” 

“—practical studies,” Jack murmured, visualizing it. 

“As a result, we really don’t have a good enough understanding of what happens to the body during sexual intercourse to be confident that we can replicate it with enough accur—” 

“You’re not confident,” Jack interrupted, “but you have some idea—” 

“No, Carter,” she said firmly. “Maybe if there wasn’t another option… Or if we didn’t have a time limit. Your viral load has already reached a near-critical level. You’ll start feeling symptoms within hours, maybe less, and after that—” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “Fever, seizures, death. I’ve seen it, remember?” 

She winced, and he sighed, shrugging in apology. Granted, Eureka’s death rate was something people knew when they moved here, but that didn’t make it any easier to have lost two people in one day. Especially to some kind of fuck or die escaped mutated virus.  Damn this town. 

“So, we’re not going to take a chance,” she said firmly. “You need to have sex with one of the people on that list, soon. ” 

Carter groaned, then held up the list again, only to jerk his eyes back up in shock and alarm. “Uhhh, I think you might have made a mistake here. This is mostly men.” 

She shrugged (empathetically, damn her). “You know that as the head of GD, I have access to your psych evaluation results, including Beverly’s expert opinion on your sexual orientation…” 

“Oh… come on!” Jack yelled, then cleared his throat as the complaint came out somewhat higher-pitched than he’d intended. “Is nothing private, anymore? And also, that is not what I meant by—Ooh! Plus! Beverly is probably evil, remember? She was clearly pushing some kind of agenda there—”  

“Look, Carter, I don’t care about your sexual identity or fantasies. As long as they don’t interfere with the security of GD, which is why I have access,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, if—”

“Wait a second, does that mean that Stark read this… evaluation or whatever, when he was head of GD?” Jack asked, horrified by the sudden thought. 

“Anyway,” Allison continued blithely (which meant that Stark absolutely had read it. Crap.), “if I excluded the men, the list would be pretty short. I wanted to give you all your options, but obviously you can choose one of the women. I have their headshots here, if you don’t remember what they lo—” 

“Yeah, no,” Jack said firmly, waving off the red folder in her hand. “You know what? I’ll take number seven.”

The skin between her brows wrinkled adorably.  Taking back the list, she scanned it quickly, then pursed her lips to the side. She couldn’t maintain the scowl, however, as the corners of her mouth kept twitching free. 

“Don’t say a word,” Jack said, seeing the disaster coming. 

“Of course not,” she said, lips spreading even farther, “No judgment here, Carter.” 

“Uh-huh,” he said skeptically. “Sure.” 

She shrugged, elaborately casual. “I just didn’t realize we had so much in common.”

“Yep, there it is.”  

“Methinks the sheriff doth—” 

“I will pay you ten thousand dollars to stop talking right now.” 

“—protest too much,” Allison finished, finally giving in to a wickedly wide grin. “And I pay your salary, Carter. I know you don’t have ten—“

“That’s it, I changed my mind, I want to die after all—”

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

The Birthday Song: a Malevolent Fanfic

Very much post-canon.

Very much fluff.

John has a body.

Arthur has his sight.

They've figured it out, working in Arkham, making their way through life, and John, at last, has chosen his birthday.

It's all fluff from here, folks.

AO3

--------

John grins. “There’s your song on the radio again!”

“I know, I know. So, we’ve decided on June third. You’re certain? You’re not going to change your mind this time?”

“Damn it, Arthur, that’s what I said. Are you listening? It’s your song.”

“I know it’s my song. Calm the fuck down. I just needed to know how much time I had.”

“What? For what?” John looms, having never understood personal space nor seen the reason to try, and casts shadow over Arthur’s paperwork and pencil marks.

Arthur glares up at him. “Never you mind. Don’t you have a case to solve?”

John scowls thunderously, then goes back to his research, muttering about arrogant humans and dire consequences and foolish schemes.

He leaves the radio on.

Arthur snorts at him and ignores it all.

#

The radio has played four of Arthur’s songs today, and John is very proud.

He has no one to boast to. That’s the downside. These lonely stakeouts make him want to cast a kitten, sometimes, but he holds it together. It would all be worth it when—

The perp finally leaves the house in question.

John remembers the rules this time and snaps some photos before following. Stupid coppers, not taking his word as law. They didn’t know who he was, sure, but when you had to get PROOF for everything, it was hard not to feel disrespected.

John chases the guy down.

Then John reveals more of himself than intended when the guy tries to shoot him, and John’s manifesting slips, and then the guy screams about pointed teeth and yellow eyes and who cares what the fuck else until John knocks him out.

The coppers don’t buy any of the guy’s story about John being a demon.

They do take the film, and the proof of the disgusting kidnapping-for-ransom scheme, and they are grateful.

John goes home proud.

He finds Arthur asleep sprawled across music sheets, pencil still in his loose fingers, and John drapes his coat jacket over Arthur’s back (they both realized John’s scent does something to calm Arthur’s dreams, and neither of them knows how to address it), then makes his own way to bed.

#

“I’ll be back tonight, I swear,” mutters John, who’s really not happy about traveling to Boston right now, but the kidnapping case requires him to testify in court.

“You're sure you've got this?” Arthur says for the billionth time.

“Arthur.” John puts his hands on Arthur’s shoulders (and he and Arthur both ignore how huge they are and how hot they are, how strong they are and how the nails, unseen, dimple into Arthur’s back). “I said I’d be back. I said I could handle this. You’ve got a deadline. Shut up and write.”

Arthur makes that face. The one John could just…

Do something to knock it off him. He’s not sure what.

There are, he considers, a lot of things they don’t discuss.

Well, whatever. There’d be time for that when he returns. “Keep the wagons circled,” John advises with grave solemnity because he’d heard it in a radio drama and liked it a lot.

For no reason John can understand, Arthur laughs at him the whole way out the door, and it leaves him in a tetchy mood.

#

So, Boston is crazy!

So, it has cultists who know who he is and knew he was coming, and they fucking picket outside the courthouse with signs like FREE HIM FROM HIS MORTAL COIL and damn near ruin the whole damn day!

(And oh yes John caught a glimpse of Kayne laughing his ass off while the cops tried to calm this down, and oh yes John has every certainty just how these wackos knew where he was and who he used to be, but the case comes first, and he goes to the stand and gives his fucking testimony, and knows he’ll make Arthur proud.)

And it all goes well, though the jury is distracted, and the outside chanting makes its way in (YELLOW IS GOD! YELLOW IS GOD!), and only toward the very end does the Judge turn to him and—as if not really expecting an answer—say, “Doe… what in God’s name is going on out there?”

And maybe it was the irony of god’s name (because that’s what they were using) or maybe he was just tired, but John forgets the rules Arthur drilled into him, and says, “Fuck if I know.”

The judge stares.

John remembers to add, “Your honor.”

Your honor does not, in fact, resurrect the situation.

At least this particular “in contempt of court” charge only lands him in jail for one night.

#

John’s in a terrible mood the next morning.

His cellmate had been some kind of drunk who pissed all over the wall. Kayne kept appearing in the barred window to throw peanuts at him and laugh. They didn’t even tell him until the next day that the jury was unanimous in conviction, that John’s case won, that (the copper whispers in secret) nobody really found him offensive, but he had to spend the night in a piss-filled cell, and you know how it is.

He does not know how it is. Humans don't know how it is, he's certain, because they're utterly insane.

Whatever. Then there’s a train ride, and people making faces because he smells like pee, and a sour and miserable mood that just ruins everything even though this really was a happy ending.

It doesn't feel like a happy ending.

John likes having a body. He loves being a P.I. (though he often wishes he doesn’t have to do it alone). He does not like body odor, or rumpled clothes, or the weird itchiness of a face unshaven, though, and he's got all those things right now.

At least Kayne leaves him alone once he’s out of Boston proper.

John is feeling foul in more ways than one when he storms back into their home.

Arthur is waiting for him.

Arthur, waiting with a smile.

Arthur, holding a cake—decorated with bright yellow flowers, and made tall with bright yellow candles, lit with bright yellow flame that Arthur must have struck while John was storming up the drive.

And then, Arthur begins to sing.

Happy birthday to my friend! He is faithful to the end— Though he’s got thick sausage hands, And a back that just won’t bend.

He is my most favorite bird, In this land or worlds unheard. Happy birthday to my friend— May our time here neeeeeveeeeer eeeeeend!

“Happy birthday!” Arthur proclaims, and holds up the cake.

There is a moment of precipitous silence.

John sniffles.

Arthur goes really still. “John?”

He sniffles again. “You remembered?”

“I planned this out, you wacko,” says Arthur. “It’s a lemon cake. Just like you like it. Now come on, they baked it today.”

John sniffles again.

Arthur wrote a song for him, all for him.

And it was stupid and silly and absolutely absurd and no one would ever hear it on the radio if he had any say, but…

Arthur wrote a song for him.

“Thank you,” John manages, his basso profundo wobbly and unsure.

“Yeah, uh,” says Arthur, who is red as a beat, and holds up two small plates and a knife. “So. You want a bite?”

“I really do,” says John, meaning more than he knows he means, meaning nothing and everything and all the rest of their human lives. “I really, really do.”

-----

Notes:

I have no excuse for this. Blame the Invictus Discord server. (My fellow 8-ball patrons, if you know, you know.)

Why is Arthur not a P.I. right now? He will be again, but… he needs a little bit of time to find himself again. That's okay. By the time he rejoins, John will be a pro.

Anyway, here is the tune for Arthur's birthday song, and yes, you're right - I have no shame.

Sorry about your teeth.

[violettierre]

GUYS GUYS EVERYONE HEAR ME OUT-

I think these 2 panels are pretty underrated cuz they hold deeper meanings than we actually think

It might not be as deep and im just overthinking but let me explain myself

Well the first image obviously is Mikey licking the remainings of dorayaki off his face, while in the second image it's the dark impulse licking blood off his face.

I know it's probably not it, but it seems like the dark impulse is being fed by blood just like normal ppl are fed by food.

Or more specifically not blood...

but rather revenge.

To be more clear, try switching the text on the 2nd panel from "kazutora" to "the dark impulse". We'll get this text: "to make himself believe he wasn't the bad guy, the dark impulse decided you were his enemy" he says that while licking his own blood- or rather the dark impulse said that while licking Mikey's blood.

I don't know if anyone gets it but it looks more like foreshadowing about how the dark impulse's enemy is Mikey.

Alright alright... first, the dark impulse only appear when someone close to him dies (Baji, Draken...) and who does he attacks after ???? The one responsible ofc (and not actually the killer cuz Baji committed suicide and Draken was killed by some random dude) it's obvious the dark impulse only comes around when Mikey wants revenge for his loved ones.

But what does that have to do with anything??? Let me explain : you see the text summarizes what even is the dark impulse, it's nothing more than Mikey's brain naming his actions whenever he seeks revenge so he won't feel like the bad guy. Or simply put, Mikey is still Mikey when he avenged his close ones yet he created a version of himself in his brain and made himself the enemy without feeling like the bad guy.

Also really stupid remark, but i guess that's why it's called Tokyo REVENGEers.... no ??? No, okay...

And after some research, i think that Mikey have schizophrenia.

Not to be an extra but that's EXACTLY what Mikey and his dark impulse are.

Breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion and behaviour ?? Check.

Faulty perception, inappropriate actions and feelings ?? Check. (That's exactly what Manila Mikey timeline is all about)

Withdrawal from reality and personal relationships ?? Check. (Bonten Mikey)

A sense of mental fragmentation ?? Check. (All the fucking timelines)

Also have a look at the rest of the informations :

Y'all can NOT tell me this isn't Mikey. Seriously.

I can stay up all night rereading the manga and bringing a panel for each one of these. (But tbh most of these are more noticable in chibi revengers series which is pretty weird)

Also look at this

Mikey's dark impulse defiently didn't start when Shinichiro died, he didn't go crazy trying to kill Kazu or Baji cuz he was just a kid and wasn't really that seeking for revenge, but in fact it began when he became a teen.

"Troubled relationships" ahem Sanzu ahem Bonten ahem legit pretty much his entire friend group excluding Draken and Mitsuya ahem

"poor schoold performance" that was introduced to us in a chibi revengers ep, and it seemed like some funny joke and all like 'oh would you look at that Mikey is so lazy and Draken is his babysitter hahaha' but boy i don't think it's a joke anymore...

"Reduced motivation" V E R Y. Like boy let's Draken carry him around in his back after he sleeps for the 20th time in a day from EATING. Jokes aside, it doesn't look like he feels like doing alot of stuff in the entire series, the "normal" Mikey doesn't even feel like walking and let's Draken carry him.

Alsoooo, another point that Mikey himself is the first one who mentioned the dark impulse to Takemitchy and in general,

another proof it's a delusion from his brain so everything will make sense to him, just like Kazutora but in a different way cuz Kazu blamed another person while Mikey blamed himself (kinda)

IN A NUTSHELL OF WHAT IM TRYNA SAY : There is no dark impulse but in fact Mikey putted the blame of whenever he avenges for his friends on a delusional non-existent split personality of him because of schizophrenia, and Mikey & the entire tokrev series's searched main enemy is Mikey himself. Send tweet.

But wait wait...

Does this mean that Mikey is evil ??? No. Not at all. He just needs to be in a safer environment like Kazu aND GO SEE A FUCKING THERAPY ALONG WITH EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS DAMN SHOW!!!! AND CAN ALL PROBLEMS STOP PILING UP ON HIS SHOULDERS PLEASE ??????!!!!!! Thank you.

[someonestolemyshoes]

Hi! Have u done any pregnant Hanji and overprotective daddy Levi already?? Yep i think im craving for more domestic levihan family, im sorry 😭

Im a bit new here in the community, and when i read ur works, i fell in love with it already, thank you for existing!!! 💖💖💖

Hello anon! Thank you so much, I’m so glad you enjoyed my other fics :3 Sorry for the very long wait for this one, I've been struggling to find the time/motivation to write lately, but I'm feeling a little better and I figured I'd get to work on some of my prompts. Starting here!!

It ended up a little less domestic and a touch more angsty than I had originally planned, but only for a moment--happy endings all round! 

Warning: this does start off with non-graphic depictions of nausea/vomiting, I hope that doesn't bother you!

Hange had been feeling unwell for days.

It wasn't an uncommon occurrence—Hange tended to wake up feeling nauseous some days, most often when she'd neglected to eat a decent meal the evening before—but this was the fourth morning in a row now, that Hange found herself bent over the toilet bowl in the early hours of the morning, heaving up nothing but acid and empty air. 

She retched until her stomach ached. There was nothing left to bring up, but her gut still rolled unpleasantly and there was a telling tremor under her tongue that warned her it might be best to stay in the bathroom a little while longer. She settled heavily against the wall to catch her breath.

It didn't make any sense. For most of the day, Hange felt fine. A little tired, maybe, but that was only to be expected after spending half the night every night on the bathroom floor. Tonight, no doubt, would follow the uncomfortably familiar routine: Hange would dry-heave a little longer, until the queasiness abated enough for Levi to convince her to come back to bed, and then she would toss and turn, too warm beneath the bed clothes, until she could fall into a restless sleep. She'd wake up feeling a little groggy, a little bleary, unreasonably hungry, but after a coffee and some breakfast she would feel well again. Perfectly normal.

Like clockwork, Levi appeared in the doorway just as Hange had flopped herself back over the toilet. She felt his palm, cool and soft, press against the back of her neck. Hange gathered her hair back from her face with both hands, braced her elbows on the toilet bowl, letting out a groan of discomfort as her stomach twisted, threatened to revolt again. Levi's thumb rubbed soothingly against her neck.

Sure enough, she brought up nothing more, but she gagged plenty, and found herself gasping for breath by the time she leaned back against Levi, aching and exhausted. His lips pressed into her damp hair.

Levi was as silent as always. His touch was pleasant, his presence welcome. Hange needed the hand he offered to pull her to her feet, needed his reassuring grip at her hips as she brushed her teeth and rinsed her mouth out. Her quaking knees felt unstable beneath her. 

He lay facing her after they got into bed. Hange was sprawled out atop the covers, shifting restlessly to find the coolest patches on the bed. Levi watched her for a moment, then said, "This isn't normal."

Hange only grumbled.

"You said you'd book an appointment with the doctor."

Hange grumbled again. Levi ticked his tongue and rolled to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Call tomorrow."

"If I didn't know better," Hange said sluggishly, "I'd say you were worried about me."

He scowled and rolled onto his other side, his back to her now.

"No, just sick of waking up at half four every morning to drag you back to bed."

Hange managed a small, wicked snicker, but shuffled across the space between them and pressed an apologetic kiss to the back of his neck.

"Must be dreadful," she said. Her voice sounded raw, hoarse. She buried her nose into his hair and took a long, deep breath. Levi grunted, but reached back and pulled her arm loosely over his hip. He knotted their fingers together loosely.

"Call them, Hange."

Hange gave his fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I will."

**

Hange prided herself on being a reasonably intelligent person. She had two degrees, was working towards her doctorate, and already had her name on a small handful of peer-reviewed research papers. She spoke multiple languages, read dissertations for fun, kept a (in Levi’s words) disgustingly realistic human skeleton in a box under the bed for study purposes, and had spent the better part of the last 26 years of her life studying human biology and physiology.  

How she had not predicted that she might be pregnant was almost unfathomable. 

She left the doctors office in a daze with an appointment card and several pamphlets in hand. She had been referred hastily to a midwife and the hospital would soon be sending out a date for an ultrasound—“As soon as possible,” the doctor had said, “since you’re not sure how far along you are.” 

The thing is, Hange had been on the same birth control pill for years now. Forgetful as she may be about many, many things (like eating, and bathing, and washing the dishes and taking out the garbage and and and), Hange was religious in taking that damn pill at the same time every single day. She had never missed it, not even once. Without a regular cycle, Hange had no way of predicting when they had conceived, and the doctor was eager to make sure no essential landmarks in her antenatal care were missed, if they could possibly help it.

The thought had never even crossed her mind. It seemed ridiculous now, in hindsight. The sickness was one thing, but now that she thought about it, there were a whole host of small oddities that Hange could easily attribute to pregnancy. Lethargy, and bloating, heartburn, and she had been peeing more than usual—Hange groaned, and scrubbed her hands over her face. She should have suspected, at least. Should have put the pieces together sooner. 

But, stupid and naive as it may be, she hadn’t thought it possible. Why worry about it, when Hange had taken consistent precautions to avoid it? 

She felt queasy the entire bus ride home. 

It wasn’t that she was against the idea of having children. One day, maybe. When she had finished her doctorate, got herself a steady, well-paid job. When she and Levi had moved out of their tiny, cramped apartment into somewhere bigger, somewhere more suited for a family. 

And god. Levi. 

This was something they’d never really talked about. For his part, Levi never seemed all that interested. He was good with Hange’s nieces and nephews, and Erwin’s son adored him, and he hadn’t showed any express dislike for children, but—well, tolerating other peoples little brats and raising your own are two very different things. 

What if Levi didn’t want the baby? What if he did? Hange wasn’t even sure herself what she wanted to do about the whole situation—what if she didn’t want it? What if, after some reflection, Hange decided now wasn’t a good time? Could they even afford a baby right now? Hange’s money was tied up in her education, while Levi was just making ends meet at the office. They got by well enough with just the two of them, but add in a baby? A whole other person, entirely dependant on them for support? Hange could barely feed and bathe herself, some days, never mind responsibly care for a child. 

By the time the bus pulled up near the house, Hange felt more distressed than ever. Levi, at least, was at work until the evening, so she had a few more hours to herself to mull everything over, but the entire situation made her stomach clench and churn unpleasantly with every new thought. 

The prospect of having a child was terrifying. The prospect of not having this child was nauseating. 

Levi had left the flat in pristine condition when he had left for work, but Hange barely had the energy to feel even a little guilty as she shrugged off her coat and kicked off her shoes, leaving both strewn about the floor. She dumped her bag and made her way sluggishly through to the bedroom. 

Levi had made the bed. The sheet was stretched flat over the mattress, the pillows perfectly fluffed and set against the headboard. Hange’s nightshirt, one of Levi’s old, baggy shirts, too stretched and threadbare for him to wear, had been folded neatly and left on her side of the bed, her slippers lined up smartly with the bed frame. For some reason—hormones, she told herself—her eyes watered, and a lump swelled in her throat. She sniffled pitifully as she stripped off her clothes and pulled on the shirt, clambering into the bed and tugging the sheets until the cocooned around her. 

Hange passed the rest of the day tossing and turning in bed. She tried to nap, but her mind was too restless, occupied with thoughts of the baby, with the concept of having to tell Levi when he came home. She could try to lie, say the doctors had done some blood work, that she was waiting on the results of some test or other, but Levi knew her too well. She could never lie to him, and her despondent state would give her away before she had the chance to say anything. 

The sun was beginning to set by the time she heard Levi’s keys in the door. She felt exhausted, head aching with all the thinking, considering, weighing up her options; with running over every possible outcome she could imagine. Keeping the baby, getting rid of the baby, Levi not wanting the baby, Levi leaving over the baby—every scenario she could imagine was worse than the last. There was only one idea that she had hardly dared entertain, in fear of disappointment if things didn’t work out. 

She heard Levi call out for her, but gave no answer. She listened, curled up in a ball on her side, as he shuffled around, no doubt picking up her coat and shoes from where she had abandoned them. And then he made his way towards the bedroom, steps soft on the plush carpet. The bedroom door creaked open. 

“Hange?” 

She made a small, warbled noise under the bedclothes. Levi came to sit on the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hand found the curve of Hange’s hip. 

“How was it?” 

Hange made another noncommittal sound. She wiped her nose and eyes on the sheets, but didn’t dare show her face just yet. She wasn’t ready. She had never prepared for this conversation, never even imagined it before today. It was too soon. Not enough time to rehearse. 

Levi’s hand moved to her back, rubbing lightly up and down her spine, before dropping to the mattress behind her. He leaned over her, and she felt his lips press warm and gentle to the point of her shoulder. A fresh wave of tears poured over the bridge of her nose and down the side of her face. 

She tried to be quiet, but something—the shake of her shoulder, perhaps, or the shudder of air as she tried to take a steadying breath in—gave way to her crying. Levi moved off the bed, but Hange felt his fingers prying lightly at the sheets, pulling them down until he could get a good look at her face. He was kneeling by the bed now, face level with her, and he looked at her with worry pinching deep creases between his brows. 

“Oi, what’d they say?” 

Hange bit the inside of her lip and rubbed her damp cheek on the pillow. If Levi was bothered by her using their bedding as a tissue, he didn’t show it. He simply looked at her, eyes darting over her face, searching. It occurred to Hange then how this must look to him. She had gone to the doctors due to unexplained, violent sickness, and now she is in bed, hours later, still crying about whatever news she had received. 

“I’m fine,” she said. Levi’s tense shoulders relaxed a fraction, but his face remained pinched, frowning and concerned. Hange wanted to tell him quickly, simply, like ripping off a plaster, but the words would not come. She opened her mouth, but her throat constricted painfully. 

Eventually, she said, “my bag. There’s some stuff in my bag. Have a look.” 

Levi gave her a somewhat quizzical look, but stood, dropping a quick kiss to her temple before going to fetch the bag, and dipping his hand in to fish out the contents inside. 

Hange watched with her breath held and her stomach clenched as Levi pulled out the handful of leaflets and turned them over, looking at each one in turn. His eyes widened fractionally as comprehension dawned on him. His lips pressed into a thin line. Leaden weight settled in Hange’s gut. She curled into a tighter ball, pressing the bedsheets over her mouth and nose, waiting for him to gather himself enough to say something. 

After a moment, he spoke. 

“That’s all?” 

Huh? “Huh?!” 

Hange disentangled her arms from the sheets and sat up, staring at him. Levi moved to sit on the edge of the bed again, a scowl back on his face, though there was an intriguing flush high on his cheeks as he whacked her lightly on the top of the head with the leaflets. 

“Stupid four-eyes,” he said, exasperated. “Crying like that. I thought you were dying.”  

“I’m pregnant.” Hange said the word slowly, carefully, in case Levi had somehow misunderstood. He had the audacity to look at her like she was stupid.

“I can see that.” 

“And you have nothing more to say about it? That’s all?” 

Levi shrugged a little at her. Aside from the small patches of colour in his cheeks, Levi seemed wholly unfazed by the revelation. 

“It’s just a baby. We can handle a baby.” 

“That doesn’t terrify you?” 

Levi scrutinised her for a moment, before he said, “are you scared?” 

“Yes? Yes! How are you so calm? We can’t afford a baby—we don’t have the time for a baby? Where will they going to sleep? We don’t have a spare room. Can we get time off work to take care of a baby? How will we pay for childcare when we can’t be around?” 

“Hange,” Levi said, putting a stop to her rambling. He watched her with a pinched stare. “Do you not want it?” 

Hange had spent the majority of the day mulling over this same question. Staring a family was a huge, life-changing commitment, something that required  careful forethought and planning. They had not had that luxury. Hange was pregnant now. She had doubts and fears, more than she could ever express, but the idea of simply having a baby—of having this baby—wasn’t upsetting. In the small, brief moments she had allowed herself to imagine a future where she and Levi were parents, where they weren’t wanting for money or time, where things were well, she felt happy. Giddy. The prospect was almost exciting. 

“It’s not that,” Hange said earnestly. “I do—I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I—I do want it. But I just—we had no time to prepare. We have no savings, we have no space, I’m a mess. How are we supposed to take care of a tiny person? Babies are hard work, Levi.”

“You’re already hard work.” 

Hange laughed weakly, and wiped at her face again. Levi pressed a kiss to her raw cheek. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

Hange leaned into him, sighing quietly. 

“Is this the kind of thing we can just figure out?” 

Levi hummed, shrugging his shoulder. His fingers skimmed up beneath Hange’s shirt, splaying over the small of her back and pulling her closer. 

“Why not? We’ve done a good job bullshitting our way through everything else.”  

Hange laughed lightly and bumped the side of her head against Levi’s.  

“This is different, Levi. This is a person. A tiny little person who is going to need me and you to do everything for them. What if we can’t do it? What if we mess up?” 

“Hange.” Levi pulled back a little and his hands came up to grip either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. “Stop. I know all that. But if you want the brat, and I want the brat, we’ve got no choice but to get on with it.” 

“I know, I know, but—wait, you want the baby?” 

Levi maintained eye contact with her, but it seemed to take a concentrated effort to do so. The flush of his cheeks deepened a little and his lips quirked at the corners. No doubt to compensate for the show of emotion, he pulled his face into his customary frown. 

“It’s fine,” he said. Hange fought the urge to roll her eyes and caught his hands as he lowered them from her face, pulling them into her lap. 

“Are you saying that because it’s already too late, or do you want to keep it?” 

Levi’s face took on a look of constipated strain. He curled his lip as though in distaste, then hooked a hand around the back of Hange’s neck and pulled her face to his abruptly, smacking a kiss to her lips. He let his forehead settle against hers and stroked his thumb over the hinge of her jaw. 

He fought to keep his tone neutral, but Hange could hear the happy tremor in his voice as he said again, “It’s fine.”

For the first time since hearing the news that day, Hange allowed herself to feel excited. To accept the idea that she and Levi were about to start their own bizarre little family. That Levi was still with her felt incredible enough, but to know that he was pleased—it was more than she could ever have hoped for. Hange gave a wet laugh and kissed him again. 

“Are you allergic to looking happy?” Hange asked as they broke apart. Levi clicked his tongue and pulled back to flick her square between the eyebrows. She laughed a little louder and leaned to wipe her runny nose on his shoulder. Levi muttered under his breath, but didn’t push her away.  

“Okay,” Hange said, after a moment. She sat back and pushed her hair back from her face. “Okay. We’re having a baby, then.” 

Levi’s rubbed the smile from his lips with the back of his hand, nodding. “We’re having a baby.” 

Hange sunk down to flop back over the pillows. Levi looked down at her, head tilted, chewing the inside of his lip. Hange reached up to brush his fringe off his forehead, warmth spilling in her chest when he held her hand close and turned to kiss her palm. 

She smiled a little playfully, and freed a leg from the sheets to dig her toes into his ribs. 

“If I’d known you wanted kids I would have been significantly less stressed, you know.” 

Levi quirked a brow at her. 

“I’ve told you that before.” 

“No, you haven’t.” 

“I have. At your sisters wedding.” 

Hange racked her brain, searching for the conversation. She remembered the occasion, and she remembered that she and Levi had somehow ended up babysitting Hange’s family brood. She remembered Levi, wrestling to keep her youngest nephew on his lap while the eldest, still only five or six at the time, was clambering up the back of his chair, sticky hands tugging at Levi’s collar. Hange fought hard to recall more of what was said, but could remember nothing at all of Levi announcing that he had wanted one of his own. 

“You said these brats aren’t so bad,” Hange said slowly. 

Levi nodded at her. Hange waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, only looked at her like there was nothing more he needed to say. 

“That’s it? That’s your idea of telling me you want kids?” 

“The hell else could I have meant?” 

Hange dug her toe at him again but Levi caught her foot this time, pushing it firmly down onto the mattress. Hange reached for him with both arms instead, curling them around the back of his neck and tugging him down quickly. He toppled over her with a quiet oof, and Hange rolled them quickly, straddling his waist and dropping her weight down onto him. 

“That is the kind of thing you say clearly, Levi! These brats aren’t so bad—you’re ridiculous!” 

Levi wrestled with her arms a little longer before giving up and bringing his hands instead to rest low on her hips. He watched her with a curious expression on his face, something open and soft, and then his eyes roved down to her abdomen and his thumbs brushed inwards, beneath the hem of her shirt, stroking over her lower belly. 

This time, he didn’t fight his smile. 

He reached up and pulled her down by the neck, and kissed her soundly. Hange melted against him, welcomed the press of his tongue between her lips, shuddered pleasantly when he nipped at her bottom lip. She went with him willingly as he rolled them both over, nudging a knee between her legs and settling his weight against her. 

She was spreading her legs to make space for him, when he paused suddenly, and pulled back, leaning over the bed and scooping through the discarded back of leaflets. Hange, winded and dishevelled, watched him incredulously as he flicked through the contents of one, then tossed it aside and opened another. 

“What are you doing?” 

Without looking up, Levi replied, “Checking.” 

“Checking what?” 

“I wanna know if we can still—” he waved a hand between them, and went back to searching. 

“We’ve been—” Hange mimicked his gesture, “—up until now anyway.” 

Levi looked up at her, looking mildly horrified. He held up one his open leaflet and said, “You’ve been drinking alcohol, too. You’re not supposed to do that. And look, here—you’re not supposed to overwork. You’ll have to take on less hours at the university. And you’ll eat. Proper damn meals. Every day.” 

Hange flopped back against the pillows, eyes rolling, watching as Levi picked up each new leaflet in turn, pointing out every little adjustment that Hange would have to make. 

“This one says you should get eight to ten hours sleep per night. Every night. And not so much coffee, the caffeine’s bad for the baby.” 

The baby. It sounded surreal. It sounded ridiculous. Levi shifted to sit against the headboard beside her after opening the chunky little What to Expect While Expecting volume Hange had been handed while leaving the doctors. He seemed thoroughly engrossed, and seemingly unaware when one of his hands reached out to pull Hange’s hair free of its ponytail and sink into her hair. She hummed happily as his nails scraped over her scalp. 

Things were still scary, and Hange was still uncertain about how this whole adventure might turn out. But Levi was still with her, and Levi was happy, and that—

—Well, that was good enough. 

[gwynrielsupremacist]

A COURT OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

Chapter 1: Voices

Read at AO3.

Gwyn's afternoon couldn't get any worse.

First of all, the morning's training had been horrendous.

Three weeks after the Blood Rite, Cassian and Azriel had thought it was time to start practicing again, since according to them, they had made a lot of mistakes that could very well have cost them their lives.

She was still alive, just like Nesta and Emerie, so at least one thing they had done well, survive.

After 3 weeks of not doing any sports, it was noticeable when you came back with all the energy, especially on a day where the sun was literally burning.

She noticed as she did push-ups that morning how her arms were trembling dangerously, the sweat running down the curve of her breasts, soaking the shirt she had worn.

Gwyn had promised herself that she would go out into the outside world.

That year she had made a lot of progress, she supposed she should be ready to enter society again, but no.

After the events in the Blood Rite, what she wanted was to lock herself in the darkest corner of the library, with a good book, and stay there to live.

Obviously, she couldn't do that. But she would have liked it.

With all the sore muscles, having failed almost all the obstacles the two Illyrians put them, showing a regrettable endurance in each and every one of the exercises, she had to go down to the library to have a pleasant chat with Merrill, who did not understand why her performance hadn't been 100% in recent weeks.

"I don't know, Merrill. Maybe because they pulled me out of bed against my will, left me in the middle of a forest full of Illyrians, while I had to fight to stay safe, as well as having to kill people? Maybe because I had never left the library after Sangravah, and I suddenly found myself in the same situation? " She reasoned, trying to control her pulse, having remembered the events in the Blood Rite.

She detested Merrill.

More than anyone else, she hated her. She often thought that life would be so much easier if people like Merrill just didn't exist.

After leaving her a ton of work to do, the female disappeared, leaving Gwyn with about seven books resting in her arms, already numb from the morning exercises.

She ran to the nearest table, relieved when she put the books down, with a thud.

She rubbed her dazed hands, wincing at the pile of books that awaited her to spend hours and hours together.

She had to research one of Merrill's new obsessions, the ancient and forgotten Prythian gods.

"I didn't even know they existed", she opined, opening a random book to a random page, flipping through the contents.

She got dizzy from so much information she did not understand, closing the pages with force, grabbing a cart that was nearby, leaving the volumes in it and going to her room, to calmly read those pages and pages of useless information, and then do a chapter-by-chapter summary for Merrill.

"Great, it's a good way to spend your free time if you love reading junk." She groaned as she carefully lowered the cart down the stairs.

"It is not junk. It is information that may be useful at some point", answered her subconscious.

At least she thought it was her subconscious.

She didn't remember when she had started to hear that voice, just one day it had appeared, and now it was considered the voice of reason.

Everything that voice said, it was true.

"I know, but I don't know how knowing which are the main and forgotten gods of Prythian is going to solve my problems." She attacked, greeting one priestess that came close to her, passing by her side.

The voice fell silent, apparently it had nothing more to add.

At least Gwyn could answer the voice in her mind. It would have been a strange thing to see a person argue with herself.

Upon reaching the room, which was a simple square with a bed, a wooden desk with a wooden chair that had more splinters than wood itself, and a modest closet, also made of wood.

Yeah, in summer the termites would destroy all the furniture if she wasn't careful.

Closing the door with the latch, one of the little luxuries she had on it, she put the books down with a thump, brushing her hands on the skirts of the gown, which was already heavily encrusted with dust.

She thought of taking off that long dress, which after so many washes the initial blue had ended up in an almost invisible gray, but she did not feel like going to the common baths of the priestesses, because every time she went there, they peppered her with questions about the Blood Rite.

And the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it.

So she collapsed on the bed, pulling back the covers and hugging the pillow with one arm, as she got into a fetal position.

"You have to go out, you can't hide in the bedroom all afternoon." It protested, to which she responded very kindly with a growl as she turned, trying to make it understand that she was going to do whatever she wanted.

"Alright then. If you get caught between the sheets and can't get out, don't come running to ask me for help." it threatened.

Gwyn didn't know how she was going to ask for help to a voice. It was disembodied, how the hell was she going to beg for help if she didn't even know what that murmur was?

She rolled over on the bed, rubbing her eyes and exhaling, disappointed.

She hated not being able to get out of that damn room.

She hated her insecurity and her irrational fear.

"It is not irrational, Gwyn." It assured her.

"Leave me alone." She begged, getting it to shut up.

She lay on her stomach, breathing deeply.

She looked at the time on the only clock in the room, located above the closet.

19.36.

It appears that she had a lot of time to do absolutely nothing.

Maybe she was going to pick up a book that Nesta and Emerie were reading.

Honestly, she was dying to sink her teeth into one that had caught her attention. According to her description, a maiden sent by the gods fell in love with her bodyguard...

Determined, she bolted upright, unlocking the latch, happily heading for the book.

There would be time to examine the books Merrill had passed her.

Anyway, she had a lot of time, reading something that interested her was not going to do anything bad to everyone.

With a broad grin, she made it to the fiction book section. She opened one of the books, tucking her nose between the pages, an exhale escaping from her lips when she smelled the wonderful book scent.

Her gaze sparking, she searched for the novel she was looking for.

"Didn't you forget something?" It asked.

She stopped short in the middle of the shelves, alarming a passing priestess.

Bowing her head in apology, she went back to searching, her eyes narrowing as she searched the thousands of spins with her eyes, finding none that bore the name of the book she was looking for.

"I don't have any errands to deliver to Merrill." She snapped, frowning when she finally found it.

It was at the top of the shelf.

She made a long face, standing on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as far as she could as she stuck her tongue out, focused.

"I don't mean Merrill, Gwyneth."

"Mysterious voice, what are you talking about?" The priestess demanded in a tired voice. She did not arrive. Why did they make the shelves so high? It was not possible that someone could reach them.

Although, don't get it wrong, Gwyn adored the voice. It was equal to the voice that we all have within us guiding us.

The problem was that the voice that she had was a little… annoying.

She looked at the shelves next to the floor, no books in sight.

Maybe if she got on them…?

She put one foot on it, skipping little hops as she judged whether the bookcase was going to fall or not.

Realizing that it was unlikely, she lifted her other foot, raising her heels as much as she could while she stretched out her arm, feeling her muscles go numb.

A little more ... just a little more ...

"You remember that your friend Nesta has a mate, right? And that you promised them that you would go to her ceremony?" As soon as she finished the sentence, Gwyn stopped.

Shit.

Seriously, had she forgotten that?

"There is still time… There are five days until the ceremony." The voice tried to calm her down, but nothing was going to do it now.

She jumped down from the shelf, as she began to walk from one place to another, in circles.

She had to go.

She couldn't do that to Nesta.

"I don't even have a dress. What am I going to wear?" Alarmed, she slightly stretched the strands of her coppery hair, thinking of a way to solve all the problems that had suddenly befallen her.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

The female began to hyperventilate, forgetting the book that she had held less than 3 centimeters from her hands.

That was far more important.

"I can't tell Nesta that I forgot about her mating ceremony. I can't do that to her." Gwyn protested, running her hands over her face, rubbing her temples angrily, forcing herself to search for solutions and solutions and solutions.

But neither of them was going to work.

She had to get out of there, no priestess was going to leave her a suitable dress for the mating ceremony.

But she couldn't go alone. She did not dare to go down to the city alone.

Emerie couldn't help her. It had started the illyrian high-selling season and the illyrian needed the money. She only went to training, then she quickly returned to her store, not staying a minute longer than necessary.

Cassian and Nesta were completely out of the question.

Azriel...

"Ask him." The voice advised.

She needed to name that voice. She could not continue calling it "the voice", that was beginning to be uncomfortable.

"Maybe he can help you get the dress." It continued.

Would it be male or female? Or rather, what the hell was it?

"Are you listening to me?"

She definitely had no idea what it was.

"What are you?" Gwyn questioned, curious as she left the fiction section behind, walking aimlessly through the library.

She loved to wander aimlessly through the thousands of bookshelves, silent priestesses, the whisper of books her only company.

Besides that voice, of course.

"Have you heard anything I've said to you in the last two minutes?" Her voice roared.

"I've heard nonsense, so no, I haven't heard anything." She claimed. "But anyway, you haven't answered my question. What are you?"

"I am everything and I am nothing at the same time."

Now was it was being funny with her?

She rolled her eyes, annoyed "That is not an answer."

"It's an answer if you know how to interpret it." It answered.

She rolled her eyes again.

"Well, at least tell me what I can call you, it's uncomfortable to think of you as 'The voice'" She asked.

The voice fell silent, which she thought meant the end of the conversation.

She decided to head over to her room, assuming she should start Merrill's work, until 'the Voice' answered her.

"Elián"

Gwyn stood in the middle of the bedroom hall

"That is your name?"  She asked.

"My real name would burn your lips if you were able to pronounce it" It replied. "But yes, Elián is my name, and I am 'him', I have noticed how you struggled because you did not know if I was a man or a woman. The definition of gender is much more complicated than that, but it will be enough".

"G-Good." She answered.

Elián was quiet at last, leaving her with her own thoughts, as she opened the door, her own scent of jasmine feeling welcoming.

And the proposal he had made, although obviously she had ignored it, she was not wrong to consider.

Perhaps the Shadowsinger would help her out, aiding her finding a decent dress for her.

She closed the crank behind her, sitting on the small bed, wondering if it would be smart to ask him, risking him saying no, or not asking him and risking not having a dress for the ceremony.

Sighing, she figured she should go to the bathrooms to get the sensation of dust - and the dust itself - off her body, so she grabbed change clothes and headed there, deciding at that moment that tomorrow she would ask the Spymaster if he could accompany her to buy a dress.

Inside her, she could feel Elián nodding his head, giving his approval.

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[doublekrecs]

Going Live

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis: You're an intern for the FBI but double as a camgirl in your spare time. You thought you kept things pretty well under wraps but who knew one of your mentors watched you all along. 

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v action (remember to wrap it), face fucking, use of sex toys, tiny bit of degrading

a/n: writing this in the setting of season 10/11 because spencer looks so damn good and i wanted to include my girl tara

also part 2 of more than physics should be up later today! hope you enjoy -🧞‍♀️

You had been a paid intern for the FBI for about a year, paid being said lightly. But the job was definitely worth it. While being under the wing of the BAU you had not only learned so much about your hopefully future profession, but you had made a family with the team. Especially under the wing of Tara Lewis, she had been there for a little while but you looked up to her work and she was more than happy to offer advice and a good wine night.

The team knew you had a second job on the side but weren’t exactly sure what it was, just that you worked from home. They respected your personal life enough to stay out of it, however that didn’t stop Rossi from offering you a little extra because “that's what uncles are supposed to do”. You would always wave him off and say you could handle yourself, because you could. 

You thoroughly enjoyed working. The money and gifts were obviously a big reward but there was always something so exciting about being on camera. Maybe it was how risque it was, being exposed for thousands to see. Or the fact that many were pleasuring themselves to the sight of you.

It was Friday night and you were getting your setup ready. You already had your outfit and glam on. Someone had sent you a set from your wishlist, lilac lace hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating all your assets and boosting your confidence. In your hair were the same color streaks you did with a tinting spray. You set the camera and laptop up in front of your bed. Silk sheets and plush pillows behind you where you could rest comfortably before your show started. 

Little did you know across town Spencer Reid was getting ready to tune in to said show. He was never one for tech, having Garcia still hand him paper files and would refuse to upgrade his phone. He had gotten a computer just so he could video chat with doctors quickly about new medicine for his mother. However he quickly found out there was so much more the internet had to offer.

_

He had stumbled across your show one lonely night. Spencer couldn’t see himself going out to find a one night stand so the pleasure of his hand it was. He was looking through videos when he saw the thumbnail with a girl wearing glasses similar to the ones you wear when you forget contacts. His curiosity got the best of him and if he was a cat he’d be one life down. He couldn’t believe the sight on the screen in his lap. 

There you were the bubbly intern, body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you from the pink wand you held over your clit. He was delightfully flustered and the moans spilling from the computer’s speakers weren’t doing much to help.

He was entranced by you writhing in pleasure but was knocked back into reality after hearing you giggle. God he loved when you made that noise in the office, usually after fake flirting with Hotch or hearing about JJ’s boys. But this situation was totally different and if he was honest with himself he was very into it. 

You reached over to grab a large pink dildo. Taking it in your mouth before swiping it through your folds. It easily slipped in and you started rapidly pumping it into you chasing your orgasm. 

Spencer was too enthralled to even think about touching himself. He was using the gift which was his eidetic memory to the best of his ability to make this something he’d never forget. 

You came with a loud moan, hips lifting and grinding against the toy to chase the friction. Quickly you turned off the wand and took the toy out. You sat up and looked into the camera before sucking it off. Spencer's eyes widened as he let out a groan shifting on his bed. 

“Alright guys that was fun for tonight,” you said as you sat criss cross on the bed. “I didn’t think I’d be able to get to five.”

FIVE?? He thought in his head. He felt like he was gonna explode just watching those last few minutes. How was he supposed to last watching you make yourself cum five times. 

“Thank you so much for all the tips and support! My links are all in the description and I’ll see you angels next Friday! Muahh” you signed off blowing the camera a kiss. 

Spencer knew it was wrong of him to view a coworker in such an exposed light but he couldn’t help himself. So he spent the night viewing some of your old videos which brought him to what he swears to be the best orgasm of his life. Of course he sent gracious tips and made sure to buy little items off the wishlist, mentally noting to return every Friday night. Even if it meant hiding in the bathroom from Morgan in their shared hotel room on cases. That was two months ago. 

_

Just as you finished your session the phone rang signaling a case. Quickly you got in the shower and put on comfy business clothes since you usually stayed with Garcia doing extra research and taking notes. You quickly grabbed your bag and keys, making your way straight to the office. 

In the elevator you heard someone calling to keep it open. Spencer made his way in, buttoning his cardigan and adjusting his bag, quickly saying thank you. You pressed the button to the floor as you felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking over Spencer was eyeing you with a confused look on his face. You were about to question him when he spoke up first. 

“I thought you had streaks in your hair”

“I did… Earlier tonight but they washed out.” He looked even more confused, then his brain put two and two together. He just realized what he had said. For a genius this wasn’t one of his brightest moments. 

You looked at him amused as a deep blush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears. There was only one way someone would know about your quick hair change: by watching your show. The door to the elevator opened and you walked out giggling as he started sputtering apologies behind you. You quickly cut him off. 

“Spence, it's alright. If you want we can talk about this later because right now you have a bad guy to catch. But may I suggest making your name something less obvious, not that I don’t love ‘magiclover187’.” He stood there mouth gaping as you patted his shoulder and walked up to the conference room to meet the rest of the team. 

_

The case was one of the easier ones. Very minimal killing and the team was back by Tuesday morning, ready for a week of paperwork. Spencer had been dancing around you the whole time, he could barely keep eye contact with you and would rush to leave the room if you walked in. If he was this flushed around you with clothes on you could just imagine how much of a mess he would be when he watched you perform. Which brought an idea to your head. 

Friday rolled around and you walked over to his desk where he was nose deep in one of his Russian books. You put your hand in it to bring it down. Once he noticed it was you he was about to start with another ramble of apologies when you stopped him.

“Alright I’m tired of the awkwardness and I want my friend back,” you said with a soft smile. “Why don’t you come over tonight and we can have that talk. I’ll even order a pizza and we can watch Doctor Who.”

“Y/n are you sure? I-I mean it is um uh Friday.. And ya know you usually film,” he said as he played with his tie. 

You giggled at how nervous he was. Poor little genius didn’t know he was the only one with tricks up their sleeve. 

“It’s fine I promise. Just a night with my favorite customer,” you said winking at him. He choked and looked around to see if anyone was looking at his outburst.

“I’m kidding.. Sort of,” you trailed off. “But I mean it about you coming over. I’m going home now but I expect you there in an hour with drinks.”

With that you turned around and walked off, adding a little extra sway to your hips. Obviously that did the trick as you heard a small groan behind you. Spencer dropped his head back as he started wracking his brain to figure out how to live through the night without making a bigger fool of himself or cuming in his pants. 

_

You know maybe you were evil, you thought to yourself as you put on the finishing touches to your outfit for the night. Once you got home you sped into the shower to freshen up for him to come over and get your setup ready. You were wearing a cream colored strappy bodysuit. Over it was a large cardigan, almost resembling the maroon one he owned, strange. To top it off you were wearing your glasses and your legs were adorned with your favorite thigh high socks. 

The three knocks on the door instantly made a smirk appear on your face. This might just be one of your best schemes yet. Looking through the peephole you saw Spencer gnawing on his bottom lip holding a few bottles of soda. Taking a deep breath you opened the door greeting him with all the casualty in the world. 

“Hey! I’m glad you came, come in.”

He followed you in and tried to keep his eyes above your neck, trying to act like he wasn’t getting completely hard by just your outfit.  You sat down on your couch and patted it for him to sit next to you. He took the seat and gulped not really sure what you had planned. 

“Um how long for the pizza to get here?” 

“The pizza’s not coming Spence,” you said shaking your head. “But you are.”

You leaned forward to place your hand on his on the couch. “I want you to fuck me on camera Spencer,” you said with sweet confidence, fluttering your lashes. His eyes kept flashing between your cleavage showing through the cardigan and your lips before finally landing on your eyes. He didn’t see a single hint of humor in them, nothing transparent but lust. 

He pulled his hand from under yours to place in your hair, pulling you into a heated kiss. You pushed back on his chest a bit to try and get some air. 

“Save that magic for the show,” you said as you pulled him up to lead to your bedroom. 

The camera was set at a little bit of a lower angle. The audience would just be able to see you and at most Spencer’s chest. You had made sure it was fine and even turned it on as a test so he could see what he looked like. After you got everything out of the way you hit the button to go live and instantly people started flooding in. If the bulge in his pants told you anything, it was that he was excited to be on the other side of the screen this time. 

“Hello my angels!” you said into the camera, Spencer was taken back at what was going on. After months of lusting over the young intern he was finally seeing the show in person. 

“Today I have a special guest with me. My very good friend, the Doctor,” you took his hand to pull him into frame. “He’s very excited to be here,” you said, hand moving down to palm him through his pants. 

His hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, making you look up at him. Huh. This was a new Spencer you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

“Let's not play games princess. Or else the only thing making you cum tonight are your pathetic little fingers. Am I clear?”

You shivered at the intensity of his voice instantly trying to nod the best you could within his grip. He let go and you went back to task at hand, undoing his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. He was long and pink. Precum already spilling out of the pretty tip, you couldn’t wait to have him in your mouth, among other places. You wasted no time in licking a broad stripe along a vein under it. His hand went to grab a handful of your hair giving it a testing tug as a warning to stop teasing. 

Your hand went to grip what couldn’t fit in your mouth but you tried your best to take him all in. You could hear the pings of tips and comments being said. Spencer could too and leaned over slightly to read them. 

“Face fuck her,” he murmured. He pulled you off of his cock and looked down into your eyes, “Is that what you want princess? Hm.” His thumb went to clean up the spit dripping down your chin before rubbing your lips. “You want me to fuck your face?”, he said in a condescendingly sweet voice. 

“Yes Doctor please! Fuck my throat.” 

“Good girl.”

Both his hands made their place nested in your hair, guiding you to his cock. He wasted no time in being brutal. Tears were leaking down your cheeks as he kept on hitting the back of your throat. Spencer was enjoying himself to the fullest letting out curses and praises at how good your mouth felt. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer and you could feel it too as he started to throb in your mouth. He then pulled you off, a trail of spit connected from your lips and his cock. 

“Such a dirty whore for me. Show everyone how messy I make you,” he took your head and made you turn to look in the camera. Comments pinged talking about how pretty you looked with mascara running and smudged lipstick. 

“Thank them and ask if you deserve to cum on my cock,” Who knew Spencer had this in him. But you were loving every second of it and put on your best pair of puppy dog eyes to beg the camera for Spencer to split you in half. And you had no shame in doing so. 

“Please let the Doctor fuck me. I’ve been such a good girl for you guys,” you pleaded into the camera. The audience was pleased with your begging as they said you deserved it for being so good. 

Spencer took his time in unbuttoning the cardigan you had on, teasingly rubbing your arms as he slipped it off. His hands then went to the bodice of it, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric. 

“Ah shit doctor, please fuck me already.”

Who was he to deny you of such a thing when you asked so nicely. He pushed you back down on the silk sheets. Pulling you by your thighs to the end of the bed where he moved the thong of the bodysuit to the side and slid his cock up your folds. Lubricating it in your juices before slipping right in. You both gasped at the intrusion, his hands grabbing your hips with a force sure to leave bruises. He used the leverage to set a brutal pace, ramming his cock into you. 

Your ears were ringing from the pleasure but you could hear the constant pings of your tip box and comment section flooding. 

“Shit baby you’re so tight. Perfect little pussy squeezing me so good.” You babled off thank yous and whimpers from being so close to your climax.

 You felt Spencer stop for a second and reach over to grab something. Then you felt it. Your wand set to the highest setting placed on your clit as he started to thrust into you again. Sounds of your moans and skin slapping together filled the room along with the buzzing of the vibrator. You were sure there was going to be a noise complaint notice on your door in the morning. 

You were so close to having the bubble in your stomach burst and so was he. 

“I'm gonna cum Doctor,” you practically yelled. “Please cum inside me!”

“Cmon princess. Let me feel you let go.”

With that the knot broke and you swore you died and went to heaven. Your walls squeezing Spencer led him to his end a little after you. Thrusts faltering and groaning at the feeling of pleasure washing over him. He turned off the wand and put it to the side before slipping out of you. 

Looking into the camera you gasped at your appearance. Hair disheveled and face messy from crying in pleasure multiple times that night. Your mixed release leaking down your thigh and onto the sheets. 

There were non stop pings of people calling Spencer a lucky bastard and asking for him to come back next Friday. Spencer nodded his head over to your bathroom to get you guys something to clean up with and let you do your closing. 

“Thanks for the love tonight angels,” you said with a smile on your face, entirely blissed out. “As always the links are in the description and I’ll see you guys next Friday. Maybe I’ll talk to the Doctor about future appearances. Bye!” 

With that you fell back on your bed and closed your eyes. Your body jolted at a sudden coldness between your thighs. 

“Right sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“So where did that come from?” you looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he stated seriously. 

You giggled and took his hand, “Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Of course. Now why don’t you shower while I get us a pizza. For real this time.”

“Or we can shower together then call the pizza.”

He contemplated it before smiling at you, “You always have the best ideas.” 

“Don’t I know it.. Doctor.”

[jisungscaramel]

vexation | hyunjin

❀ genre; smut, college au, enemies au  ❀ pairing; hyunjin x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 2.7k 

[warning] strong language, explicit sexual content, dry humping, (mild) begging, hate sex

There it was: Hwang Hyunjin, name beautifully printed right above yours. You shuddered in complete disgust, not believing that you were paired with him of all people for your history presentation. There were 34 students in the class; that meant you had a whopping 97% chance of being paired with literally anyone else, but no. Your professor, Dr. Zhang, just had to pair you with him. 

Overachiever: that was an understatement. He was the type to want all of the glory for the taking, the type to enjoy making others feel like they were dumb, the type who had no issue in forsaking common morals for his own gain. 

You couldn’t fucking stand him. 

Begrudgingly, you stood up from your original seat, trudging your feet to sit next to him - at your professor’s instruction, of course. You planned on at least being polite, and you thought for a second that he might do the same, but he didn’t even bother looking at you, staring through to the front of the room, eyes stoic. If he was trying to provoke you, it was definitely working. 

You dropped your backpack to the ground, unceremoniously, sound drowning in the increasing levels of chatter in the small lecture hall, but clearly loud enough to make his composure teeter; his head jerked back a millimeter, a minuscule gesture but it was painfully obvious to you. And you let out an equally obvious slew of snickers before sitting back in the seat, neck meeting the old frayed fabric as you tilted your head back, arms stacking on one another as you folded them, woman spreading to occupy more real estate than you actually required.

You had to at least try to keep yourself amused. 

Hyunjin began scribbling mindlessly on a blank piece of paper - still acting as if you were not even there. 

He slammed the white sheet down on your knee, sending vibrations straight up your leg rather rudely. 

Asshole. 

Oh, baby, he hadn’t even started yet. 

“Okay. We’re doing our paper on I-Hotel and… I’m gonna write it. All you have to do is find these books for me at the library.” He turned to look at you with a very aggravating smirk… maybe you’d notice the tiniest hint of flirtation if the feeling of overwhelming irritation didn’t encompass you. 

But the chance passed when his countenance morphed into counterfeit concern, tapping his chin in contemplation for added effect, “although, I think the library’s computer system is down… I guess you gotta find them the old-fashioned way.” God, you just wanted to smack that smug grin right off his face. “I’d love to help you with that... but I’m just too busy…” It should’ve been illegal for intolerable people to be that gorgeous.

You blinked in complete confusion. “Ummm… excuse me?” 

“I’m… sorry… do… I… need… to … talk… slower…?”

You gingerly picked up the piece of paper, promptly getting up from your chair, glaring at him. You made sure your backpack was secure on your shoulder before dramatically lifting the note in front of his face to tear what he wrote to shreds, scattering the bits over his laptop’s keyboard. “Stick a motherfucking cactus up your ass.” 

You stormed out of that hall with your head high, not daring to look back despite your innate desire to see his response - you were sure it was priceless. 

‘I’ll just have to do this damn thing on my own.’

Oh, if it could only be that simple. 

The first thing that popped up on your laptop when you opened it from the safety of the library was an unexpected email. 

Since you ripped up my list - rather rudely I might add - I’ve attached the list of the books I require. I will be at the library at four PM sharp. Please plan accordingly. Hyunjin 

“Fuck.” 

‘Plan accordingly,’ your ass, according to you, your plan was to minimize the amount of time you had to spend dealing with Hyunjin, and you had been 100% sure he had the same sentiment… so much for that. 

Speaking of the devil, as soon as you decided to dismiss his outlandish request and settle in to get some of your research started, Hyunjin yanked your attention away from your laptop with merely his presence, almost as if your nerves were hypersensitive to his saccharine dipped aura, and most definitely not to the signature sway of his frame as he walked. 

You didn’t dare grant him the luxury of your direct gaze. Instead, you kept a close eye on him in your peripheral, hoping you’d blend in with the people around you… but there was still at least a 92% chance he’d see you.

“Did you get my sources?” and now he was right in front of you, nothing but a measly table in between. 

Your nostrils flared in an effort to not retort back at Hyunjin, eyes still fixed on your screen in a successful attempt to ignore him. 

Then he pushed your laptop closed, hand planted firmly on the device rather invasively. “Excuse me, I’m talking to you.”

You gritted your teeth, tilting your head up in a menacing stare, eyes narrowing, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you want?” 

God, you didn’t know his smile could get more fake than it already was. “I told you to get my sources for me,” his tone was exaggeratedly slow, “did you get my sources?” 

You shoved his hand away from your laptop. “Get your own sources.” 

Immediately his fake smile turned into a sincere snicker, rolling his eyes off to the side. “Uptight bitch.” 

His words sank in for a moment. “You wanna say that again?” 

He leaned over the table, face a mere six inches from yours. “Uptight,” you could feel your fists involuntarily clenching, digging into your palms what would soon be prominent crescents in a matter of seconds, “bitch.” 

You almost raised your palm to gratuitously slap him across the face but the simmering mellowness in you kept a tight grasp of your boiling anger. You leaned back in your seat in an effort to widen the physical gap (or the lack thereof) between you. “Fuck off.”

<><><><><><> 

“Hyunjin, y/n, can you both come down to the podium,” Dr. Zhang added at the end of his lecture, halting your plans to b-line straight to the library. 

As the aisles began to empty, you made your way down the steps to the front of the room, purposefully standing at the side opposite of Hyunjin, frankly paying no mind to him for all intents and purposes. 

Your professor glanced between you two, clearly noticing the oddity of the image but purposefully choosing to ignore it. 

“I noticed that both of you submitted first drafts for your paper, and at first I thought it was an accident, until I opened both files and realized you’re writing completely separate papers. Care to explain?” 

“Yeah y/n, care to explain?” What a fucking dicktard. 

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you wracked your brain for some feasible excuse. “Well,” but nothing came to mind… oh fuck it, “we’ve had issues working with each other.” 

Dr. Zhang raised an eyebrow cautiously. “Elaborate.”

“We really don’t get along.”

He sighed, crossing his arms. “Well you’re gonna have to try to find some middle ground. I’ll give you two a second chance to put a first draft together. If you can submit a collaborative piece by midnight, I’ll still give you full credit for that part. If not, it stays as a zero. Subsequently, you will keep getting zeroes for the following checkpoints if you submit them separately. Any questions?” 

“No, sir,” much to your surprise, that was the first moment thus far wherein both you and Hyunjin were on the same wavelength. 

“Good, that is all.” 

You felt like two negatively charged magnets as you walked side by side up the aisle to the exit. “I’m not getting a zero for this,” Hyunjin spoke up. 

You rolled your eyes. “At least we can agree on that.”

As the cold, crisp air of the outside refreshed your nerves, he lightly gripped your shoulder, swerving you to face him. “Look, I know we’re like oil and water, but I’m willing to at least try to get along for the grade.” His fingers trembled on your shoulder; his teeth lightly grazed his bottom lip, eyes searching yours for a sign of truce. 

Needless to say, the sentiment from him was unexpected. You exhaled deeply, brushing his hand from you. “Fine.”

<><><><><><><> 

But two hours spent alone in a library study room proved to be more difficult than originally anticipated. Trying to work together felt like pulling teeth - a true collaboration of absolute vexation.  

“What about this passage?” You pointed to some text in a book you were sifting through. 

He swiveled his chair around, only looking at your find for a solid half a second before, turning back around. “Nah, that’s not good enough to use as evidence.” 

“What the fuck, Hyunjin? You didn’t even read it.”

“I didn’t have to. I assumed whatever you found was as subpar as everything else you’ve ‘found.’”

You dropped the book on the table with a loud plonk, partially in shock at what he said and partially due to a natural tendency to want to irritate him. “Well let’s see what you ‘found,’” leaning over the table in a relaxed manner, carrying a dash of nonchalance as you scrolled through his writing. “You call this good evidence?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” You wanted to laugh at his defensive tone. 

“It’s obvious that you’re framing your own narrative by taking shit outta context. Not to mention all the ellipses and brackets are terrifically horrendous, visually. You’re taking literally all the credibility out.” 

“What do you know? I doubt you even read that article,” he dismissed your legitimate critique in a manner you unfortunately predicted. 

“As a matter of fact, I did… two. hours. ago. And you told me the article didn’t seem ‘reliable’ enough for you, but here you are… you must think I’m fucking stupid.” 

The side of his lips curved up in the slightest smirk. “Not true, I think you’re annoyingly absentminded.” 

You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time in the past minute, whispering, “fucking cockmaggot,” under your breath, diverting your attention back to your screen. 

“What did you just say?” His tone suggested he wasn’t being rhetorical - he really didn’t hear you. There was something cute and innocent about his ignorance, the way his lips formed a subtle pout unintentionally, nose wrinkling in distaste. You mentally shook the image from your head, cursing yourself for thinking he was… ‘cute’ to begin with. 

“Nothing, My Liege, nothing at all,” mocking sarcasm spilled from your lips as you parted them to give them a disapproving smack. “This is complete shit; we can’t submit this.”

Hyunjin slammed his laptop closed, standing up abruptly. The action took you by surprise, making your neck shudder in a startle. “I can’t fucking do this anymore. Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” Pent up rage was slathered all over his face, eyes twitching, eyebrows tightly knitting together, jaw unhinging from an excess of epinephrine. 

His anger diffused to you, violently charging your nerves. There was no way you were just gonna take his shit sitting down. “Why do you,” you stood up, chair rocking back from the velocity of your limbs, “have to be,” you turned around and gripped his collar with both hands, “such an insufferable asshole?” 

He was dumbfounded, wordless much to your satisfaction, but his eyes were unwavering, devoid of reaction. The time you spent stabbing each other with your unfaltering gazes felt like a goddamn eternity, tension coarse, sinfully tangible on your skin. 

It was fucking stifling. 

Before you even realized what was happening, your lips were latched together in a fervent frenzy, tension thickening for an entirely different reason now. 

There was something so breathtaking about the way his lips tightened against yours - literally. It felt like he was siphoning your soul from your body - any thought that dared to grace your mind oddly dissolved into nothingness as Hyunjin molded your lips into submission, tongue colonizing your oral cavity in an authoritative manner that was so in character for him. 

Not that you gave a fuck. 

His hands aggressively tugged at your waist; the impact of your body crashing onto his sent pangs up your spine, and in seconds, your back thudded against the wall, maintaining the momentum. You had to grip his shoulders purely for support, and definitely not because you were immersing in the moment.

You felt his grip loosen as his hands roamed downward, playfully drawing patterns on your skin with his fingers en route. And then they constricted around your thighs, lifting them up to his hips, and you hooked your ankles around his back as if it was the natural thing to do. 

The fabric of his pants became taut around the building frustration underneath, becoming oh so apparent to you when he started steady grinding against the thin fabric of your underwear - why did you have to wear a skirt today of all days?

You passed a reluctant whimper through his lips, wholly unable to deny the way your pulsing desire radiated heat through your core at the increasing friction. 

You broke away from the kiss, gasping. “Hyunjin…” you whispered almost breathlessly, desperation filling you as he continued his tantalizing test of your patience. 

“Hmmm?” There it was: that signature smug grin, but by this point, your senses were too preoccupied to even register it. 

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“Is that so?” He lifted you off the wall, pushing your laptops to either side so he could lay you on the table, spreading your legs to give him clear sight of your dampening sex. He snickered. “You look much better like this…” While ghosting one hand around your inner thighs, conveniently avoiding the place you needed him the most, he undid the button and zipper of his jeans with the other, sliding them down to his knees. 

You found yourself licking your lips at the silhouette of his bulge, now more prominent with less restricting fabric. Of course, he noticed; “so these are you true colors… I never would’ve thought you were such a dirty girl.” He brushed his fingers over the waistband of your underwear. “Where do you need me?” He pressed his thumb on your clit, “here?” 

Your teeth pressed down on your lips in an effort to stifle a moan. “Yes…” and even though you were successful the first time, there was no stopping the sounds from seeping through your lips when Hyunjin slammed his clothed erection on you once more, picking up exactly where he left off just moments ago. 

“Please, Hyunjin…” he pushed your thighs further apart, keeping them in place. 

“‘Please,’ what?” 

“I need you inside me, please.” 

His sinister laugh filled the small room. “I don’t know if you deserve it.” 

“Fucking asswipe.” 

“Now that doesn’t sound very convincing…” 

You groaned in pleasurable displeasure. “Hyunjin… please, I’m begging you. I really can’t take this.” 

“Don’t you care if someone tries to come in?” He raised an eyebrow, partially in curiosity, mostly in amusement. 

You glared right into his eyes. “No.” 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue as he stood back. “Get up.” Any urge you had to defy him before was long gone; you did as he asked and he harshly turned you around by your waist, pushing you toward one of the windows. 

While pushing you down against the glass with one hand, he reached in his front pocket with the other, grabbing a condom. He ripped the packaging with his teeth, skillfully sliding his boxers down to slip the vinyl over him. 

Not wanting to wait any longer, you aided him by pulling your panty down leaving yourself completely exposed for his taking, and you quickly pushed your hands on the glass, bracing yourself for the next few seconds, but nothing could’ve prepared you for that stretch that came. Your wrist slid down on the window pane to bite back a scream. 

“So tight.” 

 ><><><><><><><

A/N I’mma be honest: I had a fucking field day coming up with all those weird insults

[palbabor-writes]

testing, testing

@kugutsuu & @libiraki asked me about favorite positions/headcanons for Shigaraki, Dabi & Hawks & well, here we are 

warnings: ahahaha, this is dirty from the get, NSFW/18+ only, mild blood, impact play, emotional destress, sensory play

Tomura Shigaraki

i know i’ve done some, and by some i mean a plethora for him, what with those NSFW alphabet games, but those were on canon Tomura & i wanted to show off my Professor Shigaraki AU instead. who’s that you ask? you can read about the start of my University AU here.  

He would prefer to raw you from behind. 

That’s right, he’s not putting anything on. Sure, it’s risky but that’s part of your charm, for now.

It’s also on you for any kind of whoops, Plan B preventatives.

If you dare to email him about compensation for you emergency contraceptives, or your worry about the other after effects of your coupling, eh, that feels like a personal problem & he’ll be very upfront about telling you that. Honestly. He will not answer calls, or texts and it’ll likely come back as an email.

RE: about last night.... 

Regarding your previous email; I fail to see how this is relevant to our class and would prefer for you to cease and desist with these unprofessional, personal, emails. If you are needing support, please seek out the universities health and wellness resources.  

Remember, we have a midterm in two weeks. Please utilize all study halls and tutoring opportunities. My office hours are listed within the syllabus. 

All the best,

Tomura Shigaraki, Ph.D. 

Distinguished Research Professor/Associate Director of the BioDiscovery Institute of Biochemistry & Molecular Biology

Literally this is the email you will find waiting for you in your inbox. idc how much you think he ‘likes’ you - he’s got bigger fish to fry & if you’re getting too needy and he needs to cut you loose, so be it ❤️     

Alright. Now that that’s out of the way, back to the kinks!

He does like to fuck you in front of something reflective: a mirror, a window, polished metal, etc. - it lets him still see your face, but holds that barrier of aloofness and detached passion up. Keeping you at a safe arms length. It’s not like he doesn’t want to kiss you and he likes nipping and leaving marks on your skin, but it shatters his mask & he can’t have that - nope. not at all. 

Toward the end of each session he’ll make you get fully in your stomach and tell you to cross your legs. It makes you tighter and pushes the soft flesh of your ass deliciously against his sharp hipbones, giving him something to grind and rut against as he splays you out beneath him. 

It’s his go to when he’s tired & he wants to cum, there’s an early meeting tomorrow morning and he’s gotta rest. So stop being so fucking slippery and hold onto his cock, damn it.

Dabi

Dabi will likely prefer to have you on top. 

Ease of use only. It’s not like he likes the view. Of seeing your face roll through all of those sultry expressions, licking at his miss matched lips, a sharp canine catching against the burnt and heat blistered skin, holding back those groans and rumbling moans that keep threatening to escape his heaving throat as he watches you. 

No. It’s not that. It’s just easier. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself.  

Anyway. When you’re riding him it means that you’re doing most of the work. And if you’re doing most of the work then he doesn’t need to worry about you snatching at his shoulders, or cupping your arms around his neck, fingers dipping into his spiky hair. Your lips lowering, temptingly toward his own– 

nope.

There’s less risk this way. 

Besides, what happens if you jerk out a staple? Oh, fuck. Can you imagine? If your nails catch under one and just pull.  What would it feel like? Would it bring up a heady mixture of pleasure and pain that races through him? Making his cock throb and twitch, swelling with his want. Will his blood fall hot against your skin, that endless flame that sits within him smoking against you until you scream...

No.

Don’t do it.

Well, maybe just this once. Only once! Don’t think it’s gonna be a regular thing. 

Ahem. Another position he’d prefer is reverse cowgirl simply because he can do a bit of impact play.

He likes that lick and smack of his mangled hand against your curves. How you tighten over him, your cunt practically strangling his pulsing cock, making him leak another few beads of scalding precum within you. Yeah, you’ll shake if it does it in the same place twice and that’s just fucking perfect, ya’ know?  

If he’s in a pinch, in a rush between his missions, or waiting for his next rendezvous with the doctor, he’ll do what’s needed but he’d rather have you bent over something. 

The way your legs jut, how your ass presents itself to him, like an offering, your feet straining, hands plastered forward, snatching at whatever grip you can find, cunt blisteringly hot as it takes his straining length, over and over. Oooh, he likes this, he likes this so much he can’t think.

It hits the curve of his dick a little better when you’re half bent like this and he likes grabbing at your fleshiest parts, fingertips leaving bruises and cuts, marks that will stay with you until he returns. 

Hawks

For Hawks, I’d say he’s very, very sensitive. 

Part of it’s his wings & part of it is the fact that he simply doesn’t have the time to fuck much. 

So he’s gonna like to have you pressed into the mattress, wall, table, floor, whatever, ASAP. 

He’ll slow down once he’s gotten you stripped down. After all, he does like to look at you, to admire how pliant and spread you are, pussy glistening and your head turned toward him, a distant plea fading from your lips. 

Plus, when he’s fucking you from behind it’s easier for his wings stretch out behind him. 

He likes to fold them inward, against his back, when you go quiet, each feather feeling for your heartbeat, and when you’re loud, ahh, he likes to flap them. They gather up the sounds and ooze them all over the two of you, each wing beat whisking the vibrations forward and back, letting him soak up every moan and whine. That shit makes his legs shake and his pupils hone into a narrow slit, perfectly alert, and so, so hungry, ready for more and more and more. He wants you both to be a shivering heap of limbs and wings when he’s finished with you.

Speaking of, Hawks is a goddamn master at making you cum. Like, can have you so worked up that you’re doing it on his command. 

Once again, it helps that his wings can assist with this: they can feel out your pulse and sense tiny shifts in your breathing. But don’t think that’s all it is, after all, he’s also turned studying things into an art form. 

He’s memorized each shift that your face makes, how your eyes widen and then dampen, the way your nose scrunches and the sound your hands make when they scratch down the sheets. It’s all been filed away, slipped into some internal file that he can lift out with practiced ease. And fuck, does it makes him so hard, knowing that he can make you a gooey mess in seconds. 

Fully takes advantage of his feathers. He’s confident in his mastery of them and the tactile and sensory additions that they add to his game. 

Oh? You’re in an awkward position and he can’t touch you the way he wants? 

No worries, he can just send a smaller feather your way and have it frig and tweak your clit for him. 

I’d say his favorite position is to have one of your legs slung over his shoulders. 

It lets him pound into you just the way he likes, and, if he wants to switch up the tempo, he can feel how much it’s affecting you each time your thighs twitch. He also likes that he can kiss at your feet when he’s got you this way and your huffing laughs and half hearted squirms as he ruts into your slick pussy always, always make him smile. 

k, love you guys, bye.

[jujutsubabe]

Library

Synopsis: (This is set when Gojo and Getou were in highschool) You are all in the library trying to practice presentations but Gojo can’t stop being distracting.

(I mean,,, no ship tbh? Kinda platonic reader insert but u can take it as Gojo flirting)

Word count: 1.7k

—————

A library is supposed to be silent, filled with studying and well focused people. It’s a place meant for peace and quiet, so everyone there can get a good grasp on their subjects without any distractions.

The library is known for being the best place to work in, you are surrounded by peers and books and computers of all kind. The amount of resources is unlimited, mixing alone and social time all into one setting, a beautiful design.

However, if you mix a quiet respectable place with three idiots, you tend to get the opposite of what a library is supposed to be.

The library was filled with your quiet snorts and giggles as you sat in the back of the room, you putting your hand over your mouth did nothing to silence you as you shook.

Gojo bit down on his lip as he tried to contain his laugh as well, waiting for the right timing to say another dumb joke.

You felt the stares of a few of your peers, but couldn’t help from giggling in your corner. It was one of those rare moments where you felt air escape your lungs in a good way, the crunching of your sides was a ticklish feeling. It was so carefree and fun, a simple memory you would keep every time you entered a library.

You turned to Gojo at the same time as him, trying to put on a serious face but when you saw his struggling one you couldn’t help but crack a huge smile and fall back into your lap cackling. He turned away snickering to his side as well.

You had been here for what felt like hours, you trying to go over your presentation but barely getting through the first slide with how Gojo suddenly wanted to be a comedian. Not letting you catch a break each slide.

It didn’t help that you were already behind in your presentation, he just fed into your procrastination. Making this workload ease into other hours of your day, it seemed like the only thing you could do for the day was work on this presentation.

Getou rested his chin on his hand, “You egg him on when you do that.”

“I know!” You wheezed, “But its so—so hard, I can’t focus.”

Gojo leaned in to whisper something else but Getou tilted his head, “Satoru, you’re a distraction.”

He pulled back, fixing his sunglasses with a wide grin. The class clown couldn’t help but make light of such a boring atmosphere, what was he even supposed to do in here? (Study Gojo… study…)

Picking on you two was way more fun than doing his fifty-billion already missing assignments.

“What?” He looked over his glasses, “It’s not my fault I’m this funny.”

“No, he’s right!” You took deep breaths, pulling into your center, “He’s right, let me try again and don’t distract me!” You pointed with a warning intent.

He grinned at you, playing on his innocent expression, which didn’t come across as very genuine.

It was like he called for attention to himself just by entering a room. No one could ignore him. So imagine how much harder it would be to ignore him if this giant ray of sunshine was sitting right next to you, pestering you every second.

“So,” you skimmed over your notes, “for this presentation, I wanted to research how the possible extinction of polar bears is such a condenen— conquential—conquista-- conse-”

“Are you trying to say consequential?” Geto asked.

There was a slight moment of silence, maybe half a second before, like a burst of a bubble, Gojo snorted and turned his head to the side giggling away. It didn’t help that his laugh was so contagious. It was like a yawn, when one person did it everyone else did.

Geto looked away, covering the slight curl of his mouth. He tried his best to be the mature one in the group but sometimes Gojo broke down that expectation with something as simple as giggling like a child.

Him trying to not smile mixed with Gojo’s actual laugh made it so much harder to not give in yourself. These two really couldn’t stop goofing around, no matter the situation.

You forced a frown, “Guys, It’s not funny!”

Gojo made a look at Getou, and Getou let out the lightest huff of air before shaking his head. “You’re right. Continue.”

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat, getting your notes in order, “I think it’s important to note that a big factor that could lead to their extinction are greenhouse gas em… emm...emnio—”

You squinted at the page, pulling it closer, you ignored Gojo’s pestering smile beside you. If you even looked at him you knew this would be all bad, he had a way of pulling you from work and not letting you get back to it.

Getou tapped the paper, “What’s wrong?”

You slid the paper to him, “I don’t know how to say that.”

He pulled the paper to his face with a slight frown. He blinked a few times, trying to not let confusion seep onto his face. With a little bit of inspecting, he eventually slipped the paper across for Gojo to help.

Gojo blinked back at the paper, a smile curling onto his face, “Is this your handwriting…?”

Getou hid his face while Gojo’s smile widened into a grin, then a chuckle, then a full on laugh, the both of them snickering onto themselves. You rolled your eyes, as Gojo banged his hand on the table like he saw the funniest thing on the damn planet.

These two were rolling over themselves over your sleep filled handwriting! It wasn’t even that funny!

You scoffed as the two went into hysterics over your handwriting, trying to fight off the smile crawling it’s way onto your face. It took so much to not give in.

It was all fun and games until a few students started to share a few looks from across the room. A few glared your direction, some actually leaving the place for a quieter place to study. No one seemed to enjoy your table's joy the same way you all were.

The three of you were being a nuisance to the quiet work environment, contradicting the point of a library with your presence. But why was laughing in the library more fun than laughing in your room with each other?

Was it the concept of breaking the rules that tickled you? Or maybe it was the hysteria of working on something for too long without breaks, forcing you all into taking a different kind of break.

None of you noticed when a select few students got up to talk to the teachers about you three. Whispering to the side and pointing a teacher your direction.

Your head popped up when you heard the light tapping of heels and keychains coming your direction. A more than pissed off adult looking straight towards your table.

You shook Gojo and grabbed his arm, “Dude shut up! Shut up the teachers coming!”

Before you could grab yourselves together, the teacher already arrived by your table, tapping on the desk until she got your attention. “I’m going to need you all to quiet down or leave. You’re being a distraction.”

Gojo quirked a brow, opening his mouth, but you spoke up before he said something disrespectful.

“Sorry.” You nudged the guy next to you, “We’ll be more quiet.”

She pursed her lips as she did a once over of you all, definitely memorizing your faces. You lot were making this poor lady do more than needed on her shift. She probably couldn’t wait until you guys messed up again so she could kick you out for good.

“Thank you.” She did a last sharp look before she eventually turned, walking away to the front desk again. Full hawk eyes on your table.

You turned around to the group, trying to regain composure. It was so awkward having her stare and know that you had to be on your best behavior. Everyone sat silently, no one even moving.

Until Gojo leaned back in his seat, twisting his head to look at you. You tried your best to not look at him…you could literally feel his stare through your head. He was insufferable.

…However, you couldn’t help the curiosity and slowly turned your head to meet his eyes. Just one look and his face flooded into a winced grin, already trying to hold back laughter with a squeaking sound from him.

With that, your composure broke and you released a set of giggles while Getou covered his mouth. Just like that Gojo won, he ate this attention up, releasing his own dumb fit of laughter.

You guys really couldn’t go a minute in silence could you?

Getou smiled and stood from the table, “Were not getting anything done. Let’s get food.”

You nodded, you were surprised it took this long for someone to realize that. This was a highly anticipated break you put off for too long, not realizing just how much time was wasted goofing off until now.

“I want ice cream!” Gojo slung your bag over his shoulder.

You blinked between the two as they gathered their belongings, starting to disperse from the table. You were still getting yourself together, scrambling with your things as the tall pair strided to the exit. “Guys wait up!”

They very much did not wait up, if anything it seemed as though their pace got quicker. (Gojo even looked back before grinning that sinister smile of his and walking faster.)

When you darted out of the seat, you just so happened to glance back at the table.

It had a few balled up sheets of paper under it, (that Gojo made and threw at the both of you) the chair’s weren’t pushed in, and if you looked closely you could see a few doodles sprawled along it.

For some reason, the table setting that would definitely piss off that teacher, made you smile. It showed proof that you and your friends had been there, that a few teens were messing around and having fun before they left.

Which you did, you made a good memory today. Those small moments of laughing at dust with friends, warmth from being so happy, comfort from having a tight bond.

It was all you needed, and all you wanted to remember anyways.

[ahjustroza]

Hello, if you're still taking requests, what about a HC for the Main 6 with a GN!MC who is like Deathstroke/Deadpool basically an immortal mercenary who can't die and gets into all sorts of dangerous situations

Lmao! Your wish is my command!

Also, I still take requests yes. I just write painfully slow sometimes lol 😔

Deadpool-like MC Headcanon

Asra

Did you saw him mad before?

He will make the hellfire fall upon your enemies

Asra is not the one to fight often

Yet if he senses trouble he will be on alert

Will get you behind him too

So cute

He knows you can regenerate

But what if you suddenly won't heal anymore?

He is not taking any risks

He hates it even when you get sick, what do you mean people wanting your ability to heal??

No. No. No.

No no no no no.

No.

No one is allowed to touch his lover.

The mere thought of it makes him sick.

Asra scares to touch you

What if he holds your hand too tight?

What if his hands are dry and won't feel nice when he touches your face?

What if you will be uncomfortable with him clinging to you?

I mean he is touchy with you.

This is not like that.

He loves you so much that sometimes he just can't even touch you

He will be fine with only looking at you and love you

Whenever he touches you his fingers feels like feathers on your skin

So he will ask a lot of protection runes and spells from Muriel

Will also research your condition

Will make a great to heart conversation with you about not getting yourself into dangerous situations

He is too open to you when it comes to feelings and opinions

He knows your everything

And you know his everything

You know full well that Asra is not dealing well with the possibility of you getting hurt or even die

So you have to make him sure that you are safe at all times.

Annd

Allow him to be close to you.

Don't let him fear not being able to hear and feel your heartbeats again.


Nadia

No.

It is a marvel that you have such a gift

But no injuries are allowed in this palace.

Especially no injures for MC.

You are not allowed to get hurt.

You have to get spoiled rotten by her

Sit on her lap and ask for silks and gold

Not ask to go out avenging

She knows about combat and is educated we'll about it

So if a fight is inevitable, Nadia will be your personal Spartacus on the streets

And your personal Doctor House on the sheets.

Have you ever seen Nadi grumpy??

Oh my, you will love it

She will tell you exactly what would happen if your wound was worst and you never had the power to regenerate

Everywhere you go, she must escort you

And if you come with “I can do whatever I want” she will make you her right-hand person or something in the palace lmao

She naturally likes you around her so more the benefits for her

But she will not let you go off her sight for too long

If so, like Muriel she will trust you to people she knows that will keep you safe

Will make you stay in bed when you get hurt

Even tho the times you get to heal under ten minutes

You must stay in bed for the entire day and she will prepare a shared bath for you two

Also declare your attackers the “enemies of the state” lmao


Julian

Healing huh?

He can too!

Insert meme Both? Both. Here

Since he can heal as well why would you let yourself get hurt??

Or at least that's what he says anyway.

He will get hurt for you. Why bother yourself with the trouble?

He got this.

He got you.

Will jump in front of you

Will be dramatically heroic in front of you too

He hates the idea of you getting hurt so he will sacrifice himself each time

So you have to be careful with him

He won't be hesitant to die for you

Won't hesitate to get deadly wounded only for you to not get hurt

He will always test out the curious-looking floors himself before letting you enter a new places etc.

You have to think three times before doing something

Ask key questions before each decision you make concerning dangerous things

Would that possibly hurt me?

If so, if Julian jumps to the action without thinking, will he get hurt more than they would have hurt you if he wasn't there?

Now ask the questions two more times.

Portia

Guess who will not give a damn about your regeneration?

You are not even allowed to get a paper cut 
Portia is like the mom friend in a relationship 
She will feel every painful thing you go through herself

In her heart

It's almost impressive because she will know whenever you experience pain

Like a sixth sense

And even tho you can heal, she will wrap your injuries

Will ask so many questions

How you ended up like this?

Who hurt you?

Does she need to punch anyone for it?

Will she end up punching someone even tho you say it's all good?

She will have lots of bandaids lol

Heart-shaped, cute colored pick your poison

She will also get insanely worried and anxious when you are out of sight in a dangerous place/ situation

She had many panic attacks too

With you beside her or without you around her

She will cry and end up overthinking everything

Not because Portia doesn't trust you

But because she has a traumatic past with nearly losing her family

She had to live many years worry for Julian and now she will worry for you

She just can't lose her family

Even the thought of it makes her shiver and want to vomit because of stress

More on that

She hates that she might be too weak to protect you from harm

Even tho you get to heal yourself

Even tho you are smart and know how to get yourself out of trouble

Portia will work out and train herself in magic and all kinds of stuff to be stronger

Only for you to not get any harm

Even the paper cuts.


Muriel

Doesn't matter how fast you heal Muriel will be in a state of about to faint and having a heart attack each time you get hurt

He will ask soo many questions about your injuries

Will give you looots of silent treatments after each trouble you got yourself into because he “told you not to go” lmaoo

After giving up and admitting that you will not change your lifestyle, Muriel will change his

He will be like the type to put baby protectors on every corner of the house

Everyday he will ask himself

Why are we still here?

Only to suffer??

Bc you are the little shit to wake him up in the middle of the night to say you have a paper cut kind of annoying him

He will be more alert than ever when you two are out in the public

One hand always ready to grab a wooden staff he carries around under his cloak

He hates the idea of a fight but he’ll fight the devil itself for you if necessary

He'll never leave you alone

Will be two steps near you all the time unless you are with someone he trusts

Like Asra

In the shop. Maaaybe

But outside? No.

He thinks you both need protection smh


Lucio

Yoooo

So you can like grow a limb or something?

Shit he should have asked that from the devil instead of becoming a living goat ghost

He will hate it when you are in pain but not the type to get super overprotective over you like Muriel

He knows about war and fights and he had experienced many types of physical pain

That means he will be able to understand you the most in that way

During a fight, he will swing a sword alongside you but won't jump in front of you to prevent you from getting scars

He knows you will heal but he won't.

Your healing will fascinate him each time like he never seen you heal before

He will also give you a lot of freedom than most people might think

Like the complete opposite of Julian

He will let you do anything you want during dangerous situations

He knows that you will be fine at the end

But he trusts your wisdom the most

You probably experienced many types of danger your entire life

And most probably you are better than him in defenses and combat

So you can go anywhere you want

He will just make sure that you don't die

Like literal dying.

No ghost MCs dying.

But he will also still get very furious when someone tries to hurt you

He will fight back like a demon released from its chains each time people hurt you
 
 

[lifesabe-ch]

the four times he heard you and the one time he didn’t - jj m.

request: can you write a jj imagine where he gets in a fight over you?

pairings: jj maybank x reader

warnings: arguing, boys being boys

word count: 4473

a/n: I originally just had the idea of not making it basic, JJ fighting Topper stuff, but then got SO carried away I'm sorry this is so long (also @pitaparka​ helped a lot, lets thank her too)

THE FIRST TIME JJ HEARD YOU...

“What’re you guys even watching anyway?”

“Shhh!”

You rolled your eyes as you sat besides John B., “Hmm?”

“What?”

“Hmm?” You repeated, mouth still stuffed full with popcorn, hand extending the bowl out to him.

He looked between you and the bowl for a minute before laughing, tossing a few into his mouth, “Didn’t you ever learn to not talk with your mouth full?”

“Shut up, asshole,” You said. “Do you want some?”

You reached the bowl out to JJ, slapping John B.’s hand away as he stretched to pull it back.

The blonde nodded, grabbing a hand full and popping it in his mouth, before gesturing to the empty space besides him, “Thanks. There’s more room near me if you, you know, wanted to sit here.”

You chuckled lightly, stretching your legs across John B.’s as you sat back, “But I’m already sitting?”

John B. muffled a snort at your oblivious response as JJ blushed, shaking his head, “Oh. Right. Yeah. I probably shouldn’t even have mentioned it, sorry.”

“What? It’s fine. I’m just comfortable,” you said, shrugging.

“Stop making it weird.”

JJ glared at John B., “I’m not making it weird. You’re making it weird by saying I’m making it weird. It wasn't weird till you said weird.”

He only rolled his eyes in response, “Dude, just shut up and watch the movie.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You looked between the two of them, letting out a low whistle, “Bit of toxic masculinity going on here, guys.”

“Hey,” John poked your side, “You too. Shut up and watch the movie.”

Scoffing, you settled against the couch cushions, pulling the blanket he had across your legs as well.

The tension in the room slowly settled as the movie played, the three of you too immersed to pay attention to one another.

The movie was creepy to say the least. Cheap jumpscares usually didn’t get you. Cheap gore didn’t get you. Monsters didn’t get you much either.

But there was something about the spiders that made your skin crawl. So much so, that you couldn’t even bear looking at the screen.

Burying your face in John B.’s shoulder, you couldn’t see the glare JJ was giving the two of you.

“Seriously, spiders?”

“They’re creepy! I don’t like the way they move with all of their legs at the same time… and they’re really fast,” You groaned, mumbling into his shoulder.

“That’s the size of my hand!”

“Yeah, your hand doesn’t have fangs JJ.”

John B. gently taps your arm, “Hey, they’re gone, you can look now.”

Looking up at the screen, you screeched, before shoving him, “Liar!”

The pair erupted into laughter, watching as you hid your face in a pillow, “Next time I’m sitting with JJ.”

THE SECOND

“I need your help,” he says over the phone. The confusion on your face was evident, but he wasn’t there to see it.

“It’s a fucking fitted sheet, I don’t know why I’m having such a hard time with this.”

“What?” you question him, “John, what are you talking about?”

“You’re not doing anything are you?” he asks considerately.

“Uhhh,” you say, looking around your house. It’s not like you had anything planned, but you didn’t really want to go all the way to his house to help him put on a fitted sheet.

“You don’t have to stay long, JJ’s coming over later, I just need help.”

“Then have JJ help you, stupid,” you reply.

“Do you think JJ can figure out how to put a fitted sheet on a bed? I’ll even make you lunch, just pleeease. If you love me you’ll help me.”

“I’ll only come over if you make me fish and chips.”

“Okay-”

“But not the freezer kind.”

“Awh, dammit. Fine, whatever.”

The sheet sat untouched on his couch, him sitting sadly next to it, popping his head up from his phone as he looked up at you.

“Thank God. I even tried getting it on before you came over, but this is a two man job.”

“I still don’t know why you couldn’t have asked JJ. I’m only here for lunch I hope you know.”

“And it’s on its way. JJ is a godsend, but he’s a stupid godsend.”

“Well your first issue is that it’s on your couch, not your bed,” you say, making his way to his bedroom with the sheet.

His bed looks like a deluxe twin, which is probably why he was having such a hard time with it. An extra long bed and a sheet shrunk by its many times in the wash would call for all hands on deck.

“Okay, you go to the top, I’ll stay at the bottom, and we can try to put it on that way.”

Turns out, he was very right about calling you over. Every time you went to put one corner on, the other one you had just put on snapped back into the center. Once, you had gotten three corners on, but then as John went to put the last corner on, he stretched it too much and the opposite corner flew off. As you reached for it, John kneeling carefully on the center of the bed, stretching the sheet onto the corner, the two you had previously put on snapped to the middle, covering his feet and hands, and you both groaned in annoyance. You tried multiple different approaches, all unsuccessful. It got to a point where you two had to research online how to put on the damn thing.

“The sheet is too small, John,” you chide. He scoffs.

“Yeah, well, it’s the only one I have, and I’ve gotten it on the bed before, I just can’t right now for some reason.”

“It’s probably because you shrunk it more, you moron.”

“Okay, let’s try this. I’ll put mine on, then I’ll come down and help you-”

“We’ve already tried that. It didn’t work. Let’s just buy another sheet, John, this is getting ridiculous.”

“No! We can get this sheet on the bed, let’s just, okay let’s just stretch it out as much as we can and then put it on at the same time.”

You rolled your eyes, but humored him. Your arms shaking with how hard you had to stretch it, you and John managed to put the sheet on the bed. You both flopped down next to each other, spreading your arms as wide as you could, feeling the muscles in your biceps burn.

“That sucked.” You said to him. With perfect timing, JJ entered through the front door.

“Don’t you ever lock your door?” You say to John as you make your way out of his room.

“Oh hey Y/N. What’s up?” JJ says, brown bag in hand. The bottom is saturated in grease, and the familiar fish and chips smell filled your nose.

“Hi! Thank you JJ!” You cried, taking the bag from his hands and setting it down on the kitchen table.

“I paid for that,” John said, annoyed.

“You also promised me fish and chips,”

“I got you fish and chips!” John protests.

“No, JJ got me fish and chips. Everyone say thank you JJ.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Thank you JJ,” said JJ.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” JJ said to you as you made yourself a plate and fetched the ketchup from the fridge.

“Oh, yeah. I’m just gonna eat and leave,” you said to him.

“Why were you here?” He asks inquisitively. He takes a seat down at the table next to you, stealing fries from the bag.

“I was…” you finish your mouthful. “I was putting a fitted sheet on John’s bed.” you say. JJ’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why did he need you to do it? No offence, I just, I was coming over.”

“That’s what I said!” you exclaimed. John glared at you. JJ glares at John. You glare at the lack of fries on your plate.

“I couldn’t get it on,” said John, taking a plate for himself and loading it with fish and chips and whatever strange white sauce he had in his fridge.

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” JJ mutters. You throw your elbow into his shoulder.

“Shut up,” you say, reaching into the bag for more fries, to find there were none. You settle for stealing more off of John’s plate.

“Hey!” John protests, but you cut him off.

“You owe me these for whatever just happened in there.”

You stop taking fries when John piles more white sauce on them, and your stomach has stopped grumbling. You wash your hands in his sink, thank John for the experience, thank JJ for the food, and are on your way back to your house, unaware of the uneasiness settling in JJ’s stomach. And it wasn’t from the fish.

THE THIRD 

You drummed lightly on the log you were sitting on, watching the party go on in full swing. Everyone was having a good time. They were talking, laughing… even the few kooks that had snuck in hadn’t bothered anyone yet.

“Counting the grains of sand?”

Glancing up at JJ, you nodded, “Yep. Then I wait for the tide to come in, so I can count them all over again.”

Rolling his eyes at your sarcasm, he sat down with a slight nudge, “Seriously, what’re you doing all the way over here?”

“Taking a break.”

“From?”

“The drunk people.”

He laughed lightly, gesturing to your solo cup, “Aren’t you drinking?”

“That’s different,” You scoffed. “I’m drinking, not drunk. Some people are absolutely wasted. Like… look, that girl talking to John B.!”

You both look over in the direction you mentioned, watching as the redhead draped herself against John’s arm, almost spilling her cup in the process.

Looking back at JJ, you clicked your tongue in annoyance, “See? Gross.”

He shrugged in response, taking a sip from his own cup, “I don’t know. I bet you he’s loving it.”

You rolled your eyes, gaze wandering back over to where John was with the girl, clearly not loving it. You were silent for a moment, you watching them, JJ watching you. Eventually, he heaves a sigh, quietly setting his cup down besides him.

You glance at him as he stands, extending a hand to you, “Come on.”

You don’t respond, instead just quirk an eyebrow.

“Seriously. Come on. Let’s go save him. Then we can hang out, yeah?”

This causes a smile to break out on your lips, your hand finding his as you allow him to pull you up, “This is why you’re my favorite.”

At this, JJ’s smile grew, his hand giving yours a squeeze as the two of you made your way over to John.

When you got close enough, you drop his hand, jogging slightly ahead and placing your arms around John B’s waist, “There you are!”

His eyes quickly dart between you and the girl, giving you a slight nod of approval. You take this as a sign to continue.

Her grip immediately tightened on his bicep, eyes narrowing, “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N, John’s girlfriend,” You extend your free hand to her, letting John’s arm wrap loosely around your waist.

JJ scoffed lightly as he got close enough, his previous grin completely wiped from his features as he crossed his arms over his chest and took in the scene before him. The girl did nothing to hide her shock, stepping slightly back from John’s arm.

“I’m sorry, girlfriend?”

John nodded, shrugging, “What can say? I love being tied down.”

“And I love doing the tying.”

The girl huffed, turning on her heel and walking away, leaving the two of you to burst into giggles.

“That was absolutely awful.”

John grinned, nudging you lightly, “What? I thought it was good?”

“It wasn't,” JJ scoffed.

“It wasn't,” You repeated, shaking your head. “We can do better. Maybe we should type out a script.”

“We could practice it at my house.”

Shrugging, you continued, “Well yeah. We need a signal. For when we don’t want to be talking to other people. So the other can swoop in.”

“And if there’s no one we’re interested in, we’ll just pretend to be together from the get-go.”

You nodded, keeping your arm linked with his as the two of you began walking, “Yes! I feel like we could really make it believable. JJ, are you coming?”

Shaking his head, the boy kicked at the sand before begrudgingly following his two friends, muttering under his breath, “JJ, are you coming?”

THE FOURTH

You laid on one of the boat’s benches, pulling your hat down to cover your face from the sun.

You were meeting the others here but, as always, they were late. So, it was just you and John B. on the boat. Him, fixing something or other. You, being all types of distracting and unhelpful.

“When are you going to tell everyone else?”

He glanced back at you slightly before continuing to do whatever it was he was doing. “Tell them what?”

“About Sarah.”

Your answer was plain and simple, but something about it had John B. standing upright and walking over to you.

“How do you know about that?”

Glaring up at him and the shadow now cast over you, you waved him off, “Can you move? You’re blocking the sun.”

“How do you know about that?” He repeated, not moving an inch.

Sighing, you sat up and placed your floppy hat besides you, “JB, I know everything. Frankly, I’m offended you didn’t tell me yourself. I had to see the two of you making out on the pier.”

John B. could only stare at you in shock, shaking his head slightly, “You couldn’t have seen us I… You’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

You shook your head, scoffing lightly, “Do you seriously think I would do that?”

“I don’t know… you and JJ seem pretty close. Maybe you mentioned it by accident.”

Ignoring the blush that dusted your cheeks at the mention of the blonde haired boy, you tsked, “I wouldn’t do that to you John, you know that!”

He nodded, leaning against the center console with a sigh. The two of you were silent for a moment, listening to the seagulls screaming overhead. But the silence between you two didn’t last long.

You were hopping up from your spot and nudging him excitedly in no time, “So… tell me more about it!”

He chuckles, “Listen, there’s nothing to tell.”

“Nothing to tell? Come on, that can’t be true. I’ve already seen the two of you macking on each other!”

“Right, but that’s all we do.”

“So…?”

“So,” he continued, “It’s like I don’t know how to act around her. I completely forget how to talk.”

You frown slightly at this, taking in his serious expression, “You just need practice.”

“Yeah, Y/N, lemme call her over and ask if she’ll sit there with headphones in—”

“No, idiot, practice on me.”

He shakes his head, instantly stepping away from you, “Nope. Uh-uh.”

“Come on! You need the help, you said so yourself.”

“No I did not.”

“Well, you implied it,” You say, taking a step closer to him. “And it’s just me. I won’t even make fun of you. Just… pretend I’m Sarah.”

Heaving a sigh, John B. sat down in front of you, muttering, “This is so weird.”

Kicking his shin softly, you gesture for him to continue, chuckling as he flips you off.

“Sarah… I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot-”

“Just say it.”

“I really like you. Whenever I’m with you I just feel like…”

“Like you’re floating?”

“Floating? What? Who says that?”

“That’s a thing people say, in movies and stuff. Like on cloud nine.”

“What happened to clouds 1-8?”

“Dude just go with it.”

“Fine. Yes, Sarah. Like I’m floating. You make me so happy. And you’re absolutely gorgeous, and funny, and smart… and overall not that bad for a kook.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Maybe leave that bit out?”

“Right… But you’re amazing. I really like spending time with you? Date me?”

“No ew. Don’t say date me. Be like, ‘Will you go out with me?’ or ‘Wanna go on a date sometime?”

Before John B. can respond, JJ hops onto the boat, Pope and Kie in tow, grinning at the two of them, “Am I late?”

“Are you ever early?”

Chuckles are shared between the boat’s guests, before John B. pulls the boat away from the pier.

Once further out on the water he glances over at Y/N, who had reclaimed her stretched out position on the bench, her head resting on JJ’s lap.

“So… you’re awesome. Like… one of the coolest girls I know. And you’re absolutely stunning.”

Immediately catching on to what he was doing, you smile, sitting up as you nod, “Awh, John B., you shouldn’t have.”

JJ looks between the pair before making eye contact with Pope, muttering, “He seriously shouldn’t have.”

“I love spending time with you. And I want to spend more time with you.”

“Okay…?”

“Do you think you’d want to go on a date sometime?”

Grinning, you stand up, high fiving JB’s free hand, “Yes!”

“Guys, do I have to remind you of our no pogue on pogue rule?”

The two of you ignored the others as you laughed, clearly enjoying the new inside joke between you. As he stopped the boat in the water, you continued.

“Oh, John B., I’m glad you finally asked me!”

“Finally?” JJ questioned, matching the other two’s confused expressions as they watched the interaction.

“Sneaking around was getting soooo exhausting.”

John nodded, “Now we don’t have to, it’s all out in the open. Everyone can know that I’m macking-”

“Me,” You nudge, shushing him before he accidentally says Sarah’s name.

“What the fuck?” JJ exclaims, out of the blue.

Pope pulls JJ back as he stands, but JJ breaks out of his hold, shoving John B. backwards.

“Hey!”

“JJ!”

“Seriously, J.B?”

John B. huffs, shoving JJ back, an annoyed look on his features, “Seriously what, JJ? I didn’t do anything.”

“You know exactly what you did.”

The pair glare at each other, only stepping back when Kie steps in between the two of them, “What is wrong with you guys?”

JJ scoffs loudly before moving to sit on the far end of the boat, “Whatever. This stupid trip was pointless anyway.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“That’s funny,” JJ said, “Considering it was your idea.”

“Yeah, and this is my boat. You decided to tag along.”

“You invited me,” JJ scoffed.

“You coulda turned me down,” John B. waved him off, “Yet here you are.”

Flipping him off, JJ rolled his eyes, “Fuck you, John B. I’m sick of everything being about you.”

“What exactly was about me?”

“What wasn't?”

“Uh, everything?” John emphasized. His hands are firm on the wheel, unmoving. Just like the boat. And also your trip, for the time being.

“This is a stupid argument guys,” Pope cut in, glancing between his friends, “Maybe we should all just, shut up.”

“You’re a stupid argument,” JJ retorted, launching all three of them into argumentative chaos.

Groaning loudly, you stood from your spot, throwing your arms up, “Pope, shut up. This isn’t about you,”

Kie nodded with your statement.

“JJ, shut up. This isn’t about you. John B., shut up. This isn’t about you. This is about me. I’m trying to enjoy my trip.”

With that, the boat erupted into arguing again. And this time, you and Kie weren’t left out of it.

THE ONE TIME HE DIDN’T 

You pushed open the door to John’s house, tossing your bag onto the kitchen counter. Ignoring the look he was giving you, you pulled open his fridge and grabbed a beer, holding one out to him as well.

“Uh, what’re you doing here?”

Ignoring the question, you set the beer you had taken out for the two of you down, before rummaging through his cabinets for some snacks.

“Don’t you have anything good in here- Ooh, never mind, I found some chips.”

“Aren’t you mad at me?’

Sighing, you turned to face the boy in front of you. God, sometimes he could be a real idiot.

“We had plans.”

He opened the bottle, shrugging, “So you’re just not mad at me anymore?”

“Of course I’m still mad at you! But, we said we’d watch this movie together today. And I want to watch it.”

“Okay… so you’re gonna not talk to me the whole time?”

“No!” You reprimanded. “I’m willing to overlook my anger for the next…” Checking your watch for dramatic effect, you grinned, “Two hours.”

Chuckling, the two of you made your way over to the couch, both making yourself comfortable before pressing play on the film. The movie started off slow but quickly picked up in speed, having the two of you roped in in no time. You were both on the edge of your seats, eyes glued to the screen.

The only thing pulling you from the action was a small knock at the door.

Glancing briefly at John B., you gestured to the door, “You wanna get that?”

“Nah, you locked it, right?”

You nodded, already facing the screen once more, “Yup.”

“Can’t be anyone important.”

As if on cue, another knock came, this time louder. Pressing pause on the remote, you glared at John, “Make them go away.”

Groaning, JB made his way over to the door, unlocking it before pulling it open. On the other side, an annoyed looking JJ was bouncing foot to foot.

“Do you have my hoodie?”

“What?”

“Do you have my hoodie?”

Blinking slowly at JJ, John B. leaned against the door frame, “Why would I have your hoodie?”

“I know you have it,” JJ continued, gesturing into the small home, “It’s in there-”

“Why would I take your hoodie?”

“Did I say you took it? No, I just… I know it’s here.”

John rolled his eyes, “JJ, why would your hoodie be here?”

JJ groaned, “Oh my god, John, because I left it here-”

“I think it’s right here.”

Narrowing his eyes, JJ tried to glance around John B., “Is that…?”

Poking your head from behind him, you smiled at JJ, extending his hoodie to him, “Here you go.”

“She’s here?”

“Yeah, she’s-”

“Lemme guess, helping you put sheets on your mattress?”

“What? No-”

“Is that why the door was locked?” JJ huffed, pushing past both of you into the house.

“What?” Glancing back as John B., you walked over to JJ, “JJ what’re you talking about?”

“Seriously, what is going on between the two of you?”

You and John B. burst into laughter at the insinuation he was making. You found it hilarious, but JJ did not.

“Shit, guys, I’m sick of catching you sneaking around-”

“What?”

“Woah, buddy, we have not been sneaking around!”

“You’re telling me,” JJ shook his head, “I’ve caught you two together a load of times!”

“We’re not together!” You shouted in defense of yourselves.

“Then how do you explain what you guys were doing on the boat?”

“John B. needed practice for talking to a girl he likes,” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

“And with the mattress?”

“We spent an hour fighting the sheet,” added John.  

“That doesn’t soothe my nerves.”

“Like, literally putting the sheet on his bed, you nasty.”

“And the party…?” JJ continued, suddenly feeling a lot dumber.

“You were there!”

“I know but-”

You cut him off, shaking your head, “I was just helping a friend out, JJ”

“But you wouldn’t sit next to me during the movie!” He whined, reminding you concerningly of a child in this specific moment.

“That’s what you-! I couldn’t, you make me nervous!”

John B. let out a low whistle, shaking his head, “I’m gonna let you two talk this one out. I’ll be in my room.”

The two of you were quiet as you watched JB leave, your eyes falling to the floor in embarrassment of what you had just said.

“Why do I make you nervous?”

You glance up at him, sighing at his confused expression,“Because I like you, you idiot.”

His shock was obvious, his mouth hanging slightly ajar as he searched for what to say, “I… Everyone thinks you like John.”

You groan loudly, walking away from him and into the kitchen, “No, JJ, nobody thinks I like John! You’re the only one who thinks I like John.”

“But…” he goes to explain, following behind you, but has no words.

“You really thought I liked John?” you ask, and he nods his head softly, eyes wide as if to say, “Uh, yeah. That’s what I just said.”

“I just kind of thought you didn’t like me back,” you said, and he laughs.

“Are you crazy? I thought you didn’t like me! I was ready to push John B. off of his own boat over you!”

“How could you think I didn’t like you? I’m always with you…” you mutter, as if to prove it.

“Yeah, you’re always with John B., too. We’re friends, we hang out, it’s what we do. I just… you never wanted to be with me though.” His eyes trace the lines in John B.’s floor, his arms crossed. He touches his face nervously.

“You were always sitting with John, or talking to John, and you’re always over at his house and-”

“Oh my God, JJ, get over yourself, please,” you force out. It’s almost angry and JJ can tell. He lets his shoulders fall. His puppy dog eyes burn through your entire body.

“I’m telling you right now, JJ, one hundred percent, I like you... Do you feel the same?”

“How could I not?” He says, and you notice how close he’s standing to you. His eyes are still soft, but he’s confident. For some reason, you acknowledge the blush (or the sunburn) that tints his cheeks rosy.

“What are you gonna do about it?” you taunt, but your words are empty, unlike your hands, which JJ places in his own.

Your breathing punctures the room’s atmosphere.

He kisses you.

You don’t know what to do besides enjoy it, wrapping your arms around his neck like something out of a romance movie, him cupping your face in his hands. Neither of you have any idea what you’re doing, but it feels nice to be in his arms, after having waited so patiently for so long.

“Hey guys,” John called, poking his head into the kitchen, as the two of you pull slightly away from each other. “I’m still here. I live here, you know. So… if you’re thinking of doing that, don’t.”

“JB!”

“What? I’m just saying… I don’t have a guest room… and-! And I just washed these sheets!”

“We know, John B., that’s what got us here in the first place.”

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Blithe (M)

Kim Namjoon Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: “Blithe (adj.) - showing a casual and cheerful indifference considered to be callous or improper.” In which you face the consequences of not paying attention to your not-so-innocent behavior.

•••> Pairing(s): Namjoon/Reader, slight Namjoon/Reader/Yoongi

•••> Requested by Anon: “I have a request for a one shot 💜 three words: namjoon, daddy kink 👀 (p. s. love u)”

•••> Word Count: 6.25k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: smut | Established Relationship!AU (Engaged) | Fiancé!Joon | Namjoon!AU | Dominant!Namjoon | Submissive!Reader | Daddy!Joon | LittleGirl!Reader

•••> Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, masturbation, slight choking/strangulation, spanking (lots), dirty talk, slight bondage, Daddy/Little Girl relationship, Joonie is PISSED, but he’s also caring, cursing, pining, mention(s) of a threesome, immense teasing, rough sex, punishment time

Copyright © 2020 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Thank you for the request, anon! This was a bit to unpack for me, but here you go! I hope you enjoy :) And I love you too!

~#~

“But baby, we were supposed to stay in tonight.” You trapped the phone between your shoulder and ear, pausing your task of draining the pasta noodles in the titanium sink.

You were making a simple dinner for the two of you so that you could have a nice, quiet night dining on your balcony. Maybe get a little frisky and do the dirty over the railing afterward.

Your plans were completely smashed, however, when your fiancé called to cancel your plans, yet again, to work late.

“I know, my love. But I need to finish these layouts for Taehyung before tomorrow. You know how he gets if the displays aren’t in order in time.” Namjoon sighed audibly, to which you sighed with him in disappointment.

“Why can’t we just have a little bit of time together? I thought getting engaged would kind of organize our lives a little more.” You whined, dropping the empty pot back onto the counter. Just one night, God. That’s all I ask. Just one damned night with my husband-to-be.

Namjoon’s voice interrupted you, a beacon in the silence you received as a response to your plea.

“We’ll get our time. I promise, babe. Listen, I gotta go. Don’t wait up for me, okay?” You could hear his voice move away from the phone for a moment during his reply, a clear indicator that he was needed.

“Alright.” You replied dejectedly. The last you heard from him was a brisk ‘I love you’ before several beeps indicated the end of the call, taking away your opportunity to return the sentiment.

With a huff, you took your phone from your shoulder and lightly tossed it onto the counter in frustration- still mindful of breaking it, of course. He just had to work late again. On a Sunday evening. Right before your classes begun again. Of fucking course.

You were saying goodbye to the summer with a bit of an indifferent attitude; your “vacation” was filled with working a full-time job, worrying about bills, and getting engaged to Namjoon whilst a pandemic loomed over the world’s shoulders. To say that you actually had a summer was a bit generous considering all of the normal occurrences that were no longer considered “the norm.”

Despite your stressful schedule, Namjoon was always there to calm the storms brewing inside your mind. Since the moment you started dating freshman year, his words of wisdom and natural calming effect kept the worry from suffocating you.

You were always an over-thinker. Since you could remember, you worried about every single minute detail of your life. When Namjoon asked you to be his girlfriend across a table of the university’s café, you stared at him and waited for him to tell you that he was being facetious. Surely he didn’t actually like you, right? A man like Namjoon had no business wanting to date a girl like you- or so you thought.

“So…” You trailed off, coffee cup in your hand slightly dented from your tight grip. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”

You admit, your tone was a little monotonous and emotionless- an instant defense mechanism due to your belief that he was playing a cruel joke on you. Staring into his eyes through the lenses of his glasses, however, you only found sincerity gazing back at you.

“Y/N,” He reached out and placed his hand over yours on the cup, automatically soothing your grip on the poor thing. “I’ve liked you for months now. I’d honestly really like it if you could be my girlfriend.”

You stared at his hand over yours, loving the warmth and softness as it calmed your racing mind. He actually wanted you to be his girlfriend? Like, the type to hold hands and kiss and maybe fuck a little?

Oh good lord, how you wanted to fuck him.

Being friends with Namjoon was filled with positivity in everything except your sex life. Sure, you didn’t really have one being a double major and all, but that didn’t prevent your imagination from running away from you whenever you studied him too closely.

You’d stare at him from time to time, imagining nasty things that you would do with him, but it only left you aching and wanting with a very damp patch in your panties every time. You were thirsted to the brink of desperation, finding yourself close to downloading Tinder just to have a dick to fuck yourself onto. But no, even that felt like a betrayal to Namjoon despite his lack of knowing that you imagined sitting on his face almost every night.

So once you actually started dating Namjoon, to say you were nervous to get between the sheets with him was an understatement. You were fucking terrified. Numerous anxious thoughts filled your mind.

What if he doesn’t like my body? What if I cum too fast like I know I will and he gets disappointed? What if I’m too loud or too annoying? Oh god, I should probably do some ‘research’ on how a Virgo man like Namjoon likes his women in bed.

You didn’t have time to worry too much, because the very next week, you and Namjoon had sex for the first time- research and all flying out the window. He wasn’t soft and vanilla but he wasn’t a monster either. It was a gorgeous balance that you found yourself loving immediately.

Through the years, your sex life had remained exciting and utterly adventurous, always ready to try new things.

Tonight, an evil idea crossed your mind in your sexual frustration. You hadn’t had sex with Namjoon in over a week, okay? You can’t be blamed.

A small snack, shower, and a few glasses of wine later, you found yourself freshly shaven and draped across your black living room couch with a romance movie playing on the TV. You wore Namjoon’s favorite set of lingerie, preparing yourself in your wine-buzzed state of mind for your plan.

Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you unlocked it and opened Snapchat to start a new chat conversation with Namjoon. You typed out your message to him and waited a moment before typing another when he didn’t open it immediately.

Babeeeeeeeeee

I’m hornyyyyyyy

Setting your phone back down on the table, you resumed watching the movie for a few minutes in wait, only to grow disappointed when ten minutes ticked by without a notification from Namjoon. Instead of waiting any longer, you picked up your phone again and decided to send him a video, double-tapping his name and readying yourself.

Once you held down the button to record, you put on your bedroom show.

The light from the TV cast the perfect glow on your body, emphasizing shadows on your curves and ridges, which did most of the work for you. You knew that he wouldn’t turn up the volume at work so you didn’t bother speaking. All you did was use your free hand to lightly trace your fingers over your skin, grasping your breast in your hand and lightly squeezing it through the black material of the lace bra piece.

After releasing the record button, you watched the video once, put a filter on it and watched it again, and then removed the filter once you decided that you didn’t need it. You watched it one last time with a satisfied smirk on your lips, sending it right after.

Carrying on with the photos and videos with the occasional cute or sexy message written in them, you grew upset by the fact that Namjoon hadn’t opened a single one in the last twenty minutes. Finally, you settled to touching yourself on camera and bringing yourself to the brink of a climax more than once only to deny yourself to make the allure of the videos even more difficult to resist.

You could only take so much before you grew irritated in your slightly drunken stupor, checking the time to find that it had been an hour since your first message to your fiancé. A groan of annoyance sounded from your throat and you finally gave up the patience to have some sexy time over the phone with him. So much for new things. I thought we were going to have a use for phone sex more often.

Tossing your phone to the other end of the couch, you continued to busy your hand on yourself, picturing Namjoon as the one touching you- as you always did on lonely nights like this one.

Once you finished the last drops of your wine, you took the bottle to the kitchen and dropped it into the recycling bin before heading to your bedroom with sinful thoughts in mind. Stripping yourself of the uncomfortable garments, you collapsed into the bed and got comfortable in preparation to finally finish yourself off.

Completely unaware of your phone lit up with a string of missed calls and snapchat notifications in the living room, you brought yourself your orgasm. As unsatisfying as it was without the help of your fiancé, you still managed to be relaxed enough to turn in for the night with the wine pairing in to send you off. You sighing contently despite missing your other half.

_______________________________

Namjoon was furious as he drove home well over the speed limit.

He remembers the exact moment his switch was flipped.

His phone was bribed with elongated vibrations in his pocket, a sign that someone was messaging him on Snapchat, as he stood over the planning table. Upon a brief glance at the screen, once he pulled it out, he saw that it was you. Being notifications on Snapchat instead of regular text messages or calls, he knew the issue wasn’t an emergency.

Instead of opening them, he went right back to work after turning on ‘Do Not Disturb.’ He was working extra hard to clear up his schedule for the next few days, knowing that you would appreciate the extra time he put in once he was able to stay home for you. So he needed to stay focused.

Of course, he would be staying home for himself too.

Namjoon longed to have you in his arms. Longed to hold you and touch you and feel your skin on his. Namjoon felt his slacks grow slightly tight as he let his imagination wander from him. The last time he had sex with you was over a week ago. Could you blame him?

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts so that he wouldn’t get hard in the middle of his office, he went back to work.

It wasn’t until an hour later when he finally sat in his chair to take a break.

“Hey, Namjoon?” A voice called him from his state of relaxation, prompting him to look at the source of the voice.

Min Yoongi stood in the doorway of his office, slightly shaking and shifting uncomfortably in his spot. Namjoon quickly stood up and approached him with concern for your friend.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you alright?” Namjoon fired at him, grabbing onto his shoulder. Yoongi looked down with a slight blush to his cheeks and Namjoon raised his eyebrow expectantly.

Instead of replying- he wasn’t very good at voicing embarrassment- Yoongi lifted his phone that was clutched in his hand and turned it so that the screen faced Namjoon, displaying a picture of a very familiar body clad in a very familiar set of lingerie with a hand placed over her core.

That’s Y/N. Namjoon’s blood ran cold.

Across the bottom of the screen was a sentence in the snapchat text box that read: ‘Come home soon, Joonie. I miss you… obviously lol’

For a split second, he thanked whatever god was looking out for him that the picture was intended for him, but the relief was swiftly replaced by jealousy and anger once he realized you accidentally sent a photo of yourself to his coworker. He understood that you and Yoongi talked- and that you were good friends- but his jealous side loomed over his head because he was the only one allowed to see your body.

The older man noticed Namjoon’s change in demeanor quickly, knowing that the younger man was upset. Yoongi was fast to defend himself.

“Namjoon, I swear that I had noth-“ Namjoon was quick to interrupt him.

“Yoongi, you did nothing wrong. Just forget the picture ever happened, hm?” Namjoon couldn’t pretend to not notice the way Yoongi’s smaller and very obviously nervous frame slightly peaked his interest.

“Of course.” Yoongi nodded and tapped on the screen so that it would disappear.

As Namjoon turned back around and went to sit in his chair, Yoongi perked up.

“I know that you told me that the two of you have been trying new things and- forgive me if I’m overstepping-” Yoongi gulped and toyed with his phone case, unable to maintain eye contact with his coworker. “But, uh… if you ever want a third-” Namjoon cut him off again before he could continue, thoughts already heading towards the subject that the older man was addressing.

“Noted.” He said curtly. “We’ll consider it.”

Namjoon saw the small smile at the corner of Yoongi’s lips, fighting the urge to smile with him. “Thanks, Namjoon. I’ll take my leave now.”

“Very well.” Namjoon bid. “Please close the door behind you.”

Once Yoongi left and enclosed Namjoon in his office, Namjoon sat back in silence for a moment, attempting to control the storm in his mind. Pulling out his phone, he gawked for a moment at the amount of notifications from you.

Snapchat

26 Notifications

Why would you message him so many times? You know that he’s busy. Regardless, Namjoon took this time to open them.

And he watched every second.

So yes, Namjoon was still furious when he came home to find you fast asleep in your shared bed, stark naked and sprawled out.

He tried calling you, snap chatting you, texting you; he tried everything to contact you so that he could tell you that he was on his way home. To no avail, his efforts went unanswered only to discover that exhaustion had won against you.

He couldn’t blame you for being needy. He couldn’t be angry when you laid there so damn cutely. Namjoon knew that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you.

But he could blame you for not paying attention and sending a thirst trap to someone who wasn’t him- even if it was someone who could potentially be involved with the two of you later on.

So yes, Namjoon was furious.

_______________________________

A stinging pain burned your ass, jolting you from sleep with a start.

You yelped, body whipping around to address the sensation, only to be grabbed and held with your back tightly pressed up against another body, restrained by arms circling your waist. One arm nudged itself underneath your breasts while you stood on your knees.

Namjoon. You immediately recognized the feel of him, sighing with relief. Your heart calmed with your body as you slumped back against him.

“Why’d you do that?” You whined, relaxing your neck back to rest your head on his shoulder. His breath brushed the side of your face and trailed down your naked chest. “That hurt.”

“Because someone decided to be a naughty little girl.” He growled against the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your cartilage. You instantly became hyperaware of the bulge pressing into your naked ass, a shock of hot desire cramming itself straight into your clit in a throbbing pulse. You quivered softly.

“I needed you so much and you never came.” You whimpered as he moved his mouth lower to suckle on the skin on your shoulder.

“I know, darling, and I’m sorry. I did tell you I was staying late, though.” He tightened his hold around your body, hands curling into the flesh of your waist. “You should have listened.”

You shifted in his hold, attempting to escape it so that you could face him, but he wouldn’t let you move. Your naked body was hot with desire and he kept you bound to him tightly.

“I wanted to listen. Believe me, I did. But I wanted to do something good for the both of us.” You raised and arm to curl around the back of his neck, wanting more intimacy and closeness. “Those pictures made me feel good.”

“Did you want Yoongi to feel good too?” He said menacingly in your ear. Confusion flooded you, eyebrows immediately furrowing.

“What?”

“I said-“ Namjoon raised a hand from your body to grip your jaw in his grasp, dragging your gaze to his. “Did you want Yoongi to feel good too?”

“Joon. What are you talking about?” You were concerned, wondering why he was getting so worked up.

Were you talking to Yoongi too much? Namjoon was never jealous over your friendship with Yoongi. He was nice and kind to the both of you. Although more on the quiet side, he seemed to fit in quite nicely when he was around you and your fiancé.

“Seeing how you’re acting like you don’t know any better, I’ll treat you like you don’t know any better, little girl.” He growled again, anger obvious. He released his hold on you and pushed you forward. “Elbows and knees. Ass in the air. Now.”

You scrambled into position, excitement coursing through your veins as the adrenaline spiked your heart rate once again.

Hands trembling, you gripped the bed sheets in anticipation, biting your lip. The sound of Namjoon’s belt buckle coming undone and his trousers hitting the floor only caused the heat in your core to increase tenfold. The bed dipped down shortly afterwards and you craned your head to peak at his partially-undressed body with boxers restraining his cock. A short smack was delivered to your thigh, followed by a curt statement, “Eyes to the front, brat.”

You obeyed his command immediately, feeling him slide into a kneeling position with his legs below your stomach.

“Lay across my legs.” He murmured, hand lightly pressing down on the small of your back where it was arched. You lowered your body, draping yourself across his lap while attempting to stop your body from vibrating with pure joy. His hand slid to your right ass cheek, rubbing tender circles into the skin.

“You think it’s okay to share yourself with others?” A sharp sting licked its way across your backside, force jolting your body forward and pain eliciting a whimper from your lips, yet you couldn’t help the clench of your cunt with the sound of Namjoon spanking you incredibly loud in the quiet room.

Namjoon’s hand was quick to soothe the pain, resuming his ministrations over the afflicted area.

“No.” You wavered. Another smack, softer this time, was delivered. A yelp slipped past your lips as your body reacted to the delicious pain.

“You will address me as daddy from now on, understood?”

“Yes, daddy.” Your vocal cords struggled to maintain balance with your breathlessness, resulting in your response coming out as a whisper. Namjoon’s hand clapping against you was unexpected, pain scorching against the now-tender skin. The sensation of your hot skin slightly raising made you mindful of the fact that you would definitely bruise.

“What was that?” He asked. You tensed as his free hand slid to enclose your neck in its grip, tightening.

“Y-yes, daddy.” You said with a bit more volume despite the pressure on your trachea. Namjoon released his grip but left his hand placed on your throat.

“Good girl,” He cooed lowly, shivering at the new name that you called him. He liked it very much. “Very good girl.”

You couldn’t help but bristle proudly under Namjoon’s compliment, juices now beginning to slightly trickle down from the apex of your thighs.

“Elbows and knees.” Namjoon directed as he removed himself from below you and took away much of the heat you were feeling. “Let’s talk.”

You stared at the bed in confusion. Why were we talking now? You thought he was going to fuck you.

“So,” He began from behind you. “If you know that it’s not okay to share yourself with others, why did you share your body with Yoongi?”

What.

“Namjoon,” You turned your head to look at him seriously from your position, breaking out of the tense moment. He stood a few feet away from the bed with his black work shirt unbuttoned and rolled up at the sleeves, pectoral muscles peaking from in-between the split. The sight was accompanied by the slight appearance of a nipple and his toned abdomen. “What in the fuck are you talking about?”

“Eyes to the front or I will fucking strap you down right now.” His reply, brimming with fury and warning, was no match for your concern.

“Namjoon.” You grit out with a fiery gaze. “If you think that I chea- Joonie!“

You didn’t get a chance to finish your statement because Namjoon moved toward you and pounced, engulfing your body with his own. Your strength was no match for his weight on top of you, causing both of you to collapse to the bed. Swiftly, Namjoon grabbed both of your wrists and held them down. You automatically turned your head so that your face wouldn’t be pressed into the mattress.

“I fucking know that you didn’t, Y/N.” Namjoon graveled through his teeth into your ear. His lips just barely ghosted over your ear lobe. “But you did do something naughty.”

His hand slid below your hip to your core, harshly cupping it and forcing a groan from deep in your chest.

“Tell me,” Namjoon let a single finger press between your folds, the minimal sensation warranting your body to shudder again. You shifted your weight so that you could arch your back and give his hand more room to work underneath you. “When you were sending me the photos, did you really pay attention?”

“Nam-“ His grip on your wrist served as a reminder of the name he wanted you to call him. You corrected yourself quickly, back in the mood. “-Daddy. I did, I swear.”

“Are you sure about that?” His finger began trailing up and down your slit, bringing some of your wetness over your pussy lips. You needed him on your clit, desperately.

“Y-yes, daddy. I’m sure. I remember everything I said and everything I did for you.” You pressed your backside into his pelvis as you arched your back, feeling his clothed dick slightly separating your ass cheeks.

“Stop moving.” He commanded. You froze on the spot as he continued to toy with your juices. “And I guess you really don’t know what you did, huh?”

“Daddy, no.” You keened as his finger dipped into your depths, pushing through your slick walls to nestle against your sensitive spot with ease. Softly and lightly, he stroked it, sending your mind into a horny stupor.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to teach you to pay attention. Sending a photo of you touching yourself to Yoongi isn’t a mistake you can make.”

His finger left you instantly, along with his body, as you were left to think about what he just said.

Yoongi got a photo of me? How in the- Oh fuck. Namjoon must be livid.

Almost as soon as Namjoon got off of you, he was grabbing you and flipping you over, evoking a short scream of surprise at being manhandled so abruptly.

Now, with an unobstructed view of him, you were rendered mute by the way Namjoon’s daddy persona exhumed a physical change in him. As he slid his shirt and boxers off of his body, you were trying to find the words to say in response to his statement, but you were terribly distracted by bulging muscle and his delicious stature along with an expression of reprimand gracing his facial features.

Before you could even attempt to discuss the issue, Namjoon was picking up his slacks from the floor and sliding his belt out of the belt loops whilst he spoke again.

“Put your wrists together and spread your legs, brat.” He approached the bed with his belt in hand, watching you eagerly obey him with a slight smirk pulling up the corner of his lips. Namjoon used his belt to bind your wrists together while you struggled to suppress the elation from the thought of getting fucked while restrained.

Once he had the belt wrapped around your wrists, he grabbed it and pushed it down to the bed with your arms having no option but to follow. He leaned down over you with your arms so that he could come face-to-face with you.

“Pay attention to me fucking you. I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.” He rumbled. You felt his breath fan over your face which was, with no doubt, displaying your anticipation.

Namjoon looked down for a moment as he grabbed his dick with his free hand to rub it against your parted lips. Your slick was already pouring out of your depths, gathering on the head of his dick when he passed it over your opening. Nudging your clit only served to arouse you further into insanity. You tipped your head back in preparation to be filled.

A sharp slap on the inside of your thigh made you snap your head back up to look at him in question.

“I told you to fucking pay attention.” His voice rose slightly, making you feel like you were indeed about to be reprimanded for getting distracted.

“Yes, daddy.” You whispered, casting your eyes down to where your bodies were about to join. He followed your gaze shortly after, continuing his massage on your core.

Your heartbeat picked up instantly when he placed himself at your opening.

“Watch me fill this little pussy.” He murmured before sinking into you. The weight of his hand holding your arms to the bed lessened as he removed his hand from his dick and placed it on the bed to support himself while he moved.

You whimpered quietly at the feeling of him pushing into you so fast. The stretch burned slightly and you shifted your hips uncomfortably. Namjoon leaned down and pressed his lips to your jaw.

“Sh, darling,” He whispered soothingly. “I got you.”

With your view of him slowly rearing back and entering you interrupted by his body, you decided to let your head fall back again to help accommodate the subsiding pain. A few more pumps of his dick later and you were only feeling bliss with hopes that he would speed up soon. Your small moans keyed Namjoon in on the fact that you weren’t uncomfortable anymore, warranting him to lightly nip your neck and sit up. You followed his movement with your eyes.

Namjoon looked down at your already-wrecked form, staring at you heatedly. You couldn’t fucking breathe past the lust that filled your veins when he was looking this hot and in charge- this daddy-like. Breath held in wait of his next move, you saw a smirk grace his lips, causing your walls to constrict around his girth.

In response to your excitement, he pulled your bound hands back up and slid them over his head, looping them behind his neck. Then, he slid his arms underneath your thighs and picked you up, carrying you with your legs spread open in his lap.

“Now watch me fucking destroy you.”

You cried out and dug your fingernails into your palms as your fiancé raised you up and dropped you onto his dick, impaling you deeply with it. Before you could even fathom how far inside you he was going, he repeated the action again.

Namjoon began at a vicious beat, your body subjected to letting him control you like a doll. His warm, brown eyes were locked on yours as he fucked you, holding your ogle intensely and preventing you from looking away- even as you fought the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head.

His dick pumping into you had your toes curling. Every time he bottomed out, he pulled your legs closer to his body to touch his chest against yours. Despite his tight embrace, you could barely stay straight up with the sensations he was giving you.

“You know you only belong to me, right little girl?” He leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against your neck, sucking in the skin to bite down. Once he released it, he laved his tongue over the affected spot and moved to get to work your shoulder.

A particularly hard thrust had you screaming your response, head craning back in ecstasy. “Yes, daddy! All yours!”

With his arms below you and his hands clutching onto your backside, Namjoon had easy access to deliver another spank in the same spot he had spanked you minutes before. You howled out a cry with tears welling in your eyes despite the pain adding to the pressure building between your hips.

Unable to find another way to let out your automatic instinct to pull your fiancé close with your orgasm approaching, you resorted to pulling him by his neck with your bound hands, kissing him sloppily. Hopefully, he would be there to catch you when you finally fell to the throes of your climax.

“Daddy,” You moaned against his lips. “Gonna cum.”

And then he stopped.

Movement ceased. Friction stopped. The battering inside you came to a halt and you looked at him with panicked eyes, desperation controlling every aspect of your mind once your orgasm was completely and absolutely denied.

“Oh? You’re going to come? Without asking?” He pulled away and smirked at you with an eyebrow cocked.

“Daddy, please. I-I need it.” You dug your face into his neck, attempting to move yourself on his dick to regain some of the mind-numbing sensation.

Namjoon only laughed in response. “Oh? You need it? How badly do you need it, darling?”

“So bad. Sososo bad.” You were rambling- begging shamelessly- now while tears began to trickle down your face and onto his skin. “I need you. Please.”

Namjoon dropped the two of you to the mattress, allowing your legs to fall to the sides. With your hands still bound, you pulled him down to you so that you could kiss him again but was left confused when he resisted.

“Nuh-uh.” He clicked his tongue. “You want it? I’ll give it to you.”

Before you could even ask, Namjoon was removing your hands from around his neck and flipping you over. You immediately raised your ass and arched your back excitedly.

“The little girl is ready for me, isn’t she?” Namjoon rumbled out a laugh, placing a hand on your ass. You flinched slightly at the contact seeing as you were expecting another smack, but you couldn’t even answer because, quickly, he swiped his thumb over your exposed pussy. Namjoon loved the way it was widened by his dick. “Oh, look at you all fucked open by me. Just wait until I fill it up.”

“Please fill me up, daddy.” You pleaded, forehead pressing down into the mattress.

“As my little brat wishes.” He acquiesced to your request, pressing his dick between your spread ass cheeks in ready.

You weren’t expecting him to act on it so quickly, thinking he would tease you some more, but you only moaned into the sheets as he entered you again. The previous fire in the pit of your stomach that burnt out those few moments ago was quickly rekindled. His hands clapped into a vice-like grip on your hips, fingernails digging into the flesh and surely breaking the skin, as he began his pace all over again.

“D-“ A savage thrust interrupted the whimpered word, shooting your body forward. “Daddy.”

Namjoon was reaching a new depth and angle within you, and when his dick began directly pummeling that oh so sweet spot inside of you once again, your brain might as well have reset and kick started a speed race towards your orgasm.

You couldn’t even focus on the way he was fucking into you when his own grunts and moans of pleasure were filling your ears nor the way your orgasm seemed to have come upon you within moments due to your oversensitivity from a denied orgasm.

“Daddy, please let me come. I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum.” You chanted, feeling numb whilst tightening your entire body in attempt to control your body during climax. You almost didn’t feel the sensation of your fiancé grabbing you by your waist and lifting your body so that your back could meet his chest.

The clapping sounds of your bodies only got louder and the squelching sounds of your pussy eagerly taking him in only got more sinful from the new position. With your arms in front of you, you had no choice but to loop them back around Namjoon’s neck behind you.

“Cum, little girl. Cum all over my cock so I can fill up your pretty cunt.” He growled. He removed a hand from your hip to place it on your jaw so that he could turn your head o face him. Your eyes fluttered as you felt your walls begin to seize up and he took this as a sign to quickly cover your mouth with his own.

The inferno of pleasure within you grew too hot and burst moments later, your body seizing and jerking with each of his pumps into your tightening body. Hissing through his teeth from the sensation of you squeezing yourself around him, Namjoon attempted to swallow your screams with his lips whilst chasing his own high.

“Fuck,” He ground out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Namjoon’s climax followed shortly after yours, pressing his hips into your ass with as much pressure as he could muster to ensure that his essence painted your walls as deeply as possible. Groaning with his release, he laved his tongue over your lips and into your mouth sloppily.

The two of you, spent and breathless, didn’t stay in your position for long. He knew that you were uncomfortable and that your wrists were probably going to bruise. The roleplay was over and there was no need to keep you restrained anymore.

Pulling out, Namjoon watched as his cum streamed down your thighs and onto the bed. You grimaced at the unpleasant sensation and the fact that it was now soiling the bed.

He got up quickly, smiling, and after rolling over onto your back with exhaustion, you watched the beautiful grin spread across his lips with dimples in his cheeks. You couldn’t but smile blissfully in return.

“I’m not actually mad at you, my love. You know that, right?” He grabbed the wipes from your bathroom as he spoke.

“Oh, I know. But it would be really hot if you could pretend to be mad a little more often.” You giggled, widening your legs for him as he cleaned you up. “That whole ‘Daddy Joon’ thing suits you incredible well.”

“Oh, does it now?” He snickered while reaching for the belt. “Hold on, let me undo this.”

Once the belt was unwrapped from your wrists, you rubbed them soothingly. “Ow.” You muttered.

Namjoon balled up the wipes and threw them in the trashcan. Once he was done, he picked you up bridal style and carried you from the room.

“Where are we going?” You questioned.

“To the kitchen.” He laughed heartily. “We have a pasta dinner to eat.”

“But I need to put clothes on!” You protested. He only placed you down in front of the counter before walking to the fridge, completely butt-naked. He just kept laughing.

“We’re in our own house, Y/N. No need to worry about trivial things like clothes.” He pulled out the Tupperware that you packed the noodles and pasta sauce in earlier while you watched. Shrugging, unable to argue with his reasoning, you turned to grab the plates and silverware from the cabinet.

“Oh, by the way,” Namjoon set the noodles in the microwave and set it to warm them up. “Yoongi asked us if we wanted a third.”

You paused in shock, turning to look at him. His form, even in normal lighting, was mouthwatering to look at. Broad shoulders sat upon a wide chest graced with lean pectoral muscles. His biceps, bulging with light ridges of veins running down to his hands, had gotten bigger in the last few months. When he smiled, allowing his dimples to dent his cheeks, there was no way any woman would be able to resist him.

And you were his woman.

“Yoongi?” You drew up an eyebrow at the thought, remembering that you had sent him a photo of yourself by accident. You also remembered Yoongi to be a very calming and relaxed man who was very easy on the eyes. He was your friend, after all. “Really?”

“To be honest with you, I’m kind of considering it. It would be exciting to try having a third.” He leaned against the counter with his hands gripping the edge.

“I thought you wanted me to pay attention to you and only you.” You laughed incredulously.

“Well,” He stalked towards you and placed his hands on the counter on either side of your naked body, leaning in. He was so close that you felt the body heat radiating off his skin. 

“I can make certain exceptions to your behavior.”

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

[hcneymilkks]

Month

A fake dating au but make it marriage. Two best friends scroll on social media and notice a trend where newlyweds send invites to famous celebrities to see what will happen? An appearance? A gift? Who knows. For the two best friends, as a joke, set up a fake wedding and request the most expensive gifts with the option of money. Sending invites to celebrities ranging from Kim Kardashian to even the Queen, they are surprised and shocked to realize that not only were gifts being delivered nearing the “big day” but a request to be part of the celebration causes the two friends to create a fake marriage in the smallest amount of time they have. 

University AU! Aged-up Haikyuu Characters!

Fashion Designer/Psychologist Oikawa

Humanities Y/N

Rain splattered on the window, causing little droplets here and there to roll down with no hesitation. The quiet hums of lo-fi music made its way around the little bedroom, with vigorous typing accompanying it. 

Backspace.

Enter. 

Click and delete. 

Brain throbbing, a sigh escaping from the lips.

It was no use, the longer the computer was stared at, the more your brain felt like mush.

“Damn him and using me to do his research analysis.”

Speak of the devil.

“Y/n!”

You stood up, turning around and crossing your arms with a glare. There he stood, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a sly smirk on his face.

Tooru Oikawa.

“How’s the report going? I hope to see it done by tomorrow?”

“Fuck you,” you strided over and pushed his arms, causing him to slightly lose balance. “Just tell me how you managed not getting kicked out yet. I swear you casted a spell on your professors or something. It's like you don’t do anything.”

He feigned hurt. “I do!” He whined. “Just not class related.” He pushed past you and flung yourself onto the bed, burying his face into your freshly washed sheets. “I’m designing a new clothing line inspired by the different volleyball team colours.”

“Is this your way at relieving the pain from not making it to nationals?” you snickered, remembering how pissed off he was after Ushijima told him he should have gone to Shiratorizawa.

“I-you little shit. This is why I never tell you things.”

“Shut up shittykawa you literally are making me do your research proposal. I know nothing about psychology!”

“I’m helping you learn a new subject! It’s time to look into your own brain and see what���s wrong with you!”

…

Three.

Two.

One.

“OIKAWA YOU LITTLE SHIT!” you flung yourself on top of him, garnering an oomph! sound. You smacked his back repeatedly. 

He let it have your way, already coming up with a counterattack. 

With stinging hands and shallow breaths after saying nothing but curses, you stopped and climbed off of him. Immediately, he’s on top of you. Pinning your wrists and getting dangerously closer to your neck. You couldn’t lie, he was attractive, but knowing him and his two-faced personality, you’d rather stay friends. 

But did you really want to?

A part of him knew you wanted him, but was that a risk you were willing to take?

Deep breaths. 

A low chuckle. “You love me y/n. I know you do, and I also know you’d do anything for me.” He smirked and pressed a kiss oh so close to your lips, getting up and dusting off his black shirt.

“I’m leaving! Remember, the paper has to be done by tomorrow!”

The door closed and for a moment you looked at your ceiling.

Eyes wide. 

Taking a pillow, you screamed into it.

“SHITTYKAWA!”

“Here you hoe, now for once in your life do your own work.”

You stomped into one of the many University studios, aiming the folder at Oikawa’s head much to his dismay.

“Thank you love you!”

You glared at him and waved a hand. “You definitely owe me like five bowls of ramen after what you put me through. I can’t believe you made me read so much on children’s brains and development.”

“I mean they said to choose something I liked, so children and volleyball worked together. Plus, if I actually had to conduct the research, my nephew’s volleyball club would have been perfect.” He finally turned around after pinning the teal fabric to the mannequin, striding towards you and ruffling your hair.

You mumbled incoherent curses as Oikawa picked up his sketchbook, writing down a quick note before closing it.

“Let’s go, I’m starving.”

The fragrant air of spices and creamy broth filled the little shop, making you drool. Grateful that Oikawa was rich, you took the opportunity to order almost everything on the menu.

“Y/n isn’t that-” you growled at him and he smirked.

“Feisty, you know I love that.” he winked and you gagged.

While waiting for the food, both of you were scrolling on Instagram. Having most of the same friends, it was no surprise that your timelines almost looked identical. Rolling his eyes, Oikawa saw a group photo of most of the volleyball players Hinata was pictured with, wanting nothing more than to squish the little one. 

But then something caught your eyes. 

You looked up at Oikawa who seemingly had the same expression, eyes wide, yet confused.

The dead groupchat came back to life with a link sent by Matsukawa, something about a bet.

matthewkawa 

Look at this lol

Sent a link

[Youtube storytime: The Time I Invited Drake to My Wedding (Spoiler Alert: He Came!)]

hannamaki

Wait why would someone invite a celebrity? Aren’t they hard to ask?

nishinoyya

Wait that’s cool! Asahi-san can we invite Jason Derulo to our wedding?

acai

Wait...what? What wedding?

y/n

Waittt i’ve seen that video

Apparently as a joke the person sent lots of invites to different celebrities. Most of them gave gifts or money but I guess Drake went

iwachew

LOOL IMAGINE Y/N AND CRAPPYKAWA DOING THAT

yoyoinata

I can see that woah!

milkyama

Psh! Flattykawa and y/n. I can’t see it. y/n deserves better lol

fabkawa

OI TAKE THAT BACK STUPID

y/n

Oi don’t talk back to my child like that shittykawa

fabkawa

Shut up y/n and eat your ramen

You glared at him before saying thank you to the waiter. Both minds now occupied with the creamy ramen and soft boiled egg. 

Flipping a page, you smiled. There it was, the fake couple who both fell for each other, breaking so many rules. But who couldn’t resist?

Oikawa scrolled on the computer, typing and clicking. He swiveled around in his seat and went over to you, peering over your shoulder.

You smacked his arm. “Personal space excuse me!” He put his arm up in defence, smirking.

“Remember the post Matsukawa sent?

“Yeah. So what?”

“I made the wedding on May 14th and invited some celebrities. Who did you want to send an invite to?”

You dropped the book. “Say what?”

Oikawa dragged you from his bed and sat you down on his uncomfy chair. Indeed, the computer screen showed a cheesy website where people rsvp to weddings. Already half of the groupchat accepted and you know this had to be a joke.

“Oikawa are you dumb? Who are you marrying? Wait no, who would want to marry you?” you looked at him and he pouted.

“Iwa-chan said no, Mad Dog scares me, Ushijima is definitely a no, so you’re left.”

“Who said I would do it?”

“I invited Stray Kids.”

Are you kidding me?

“This isn’t real, we’re not gonna really get married right? I mean if we were technically speaking, the wedding is less than a month away and we don’t have money, a reception place or any other sappy wedding shit.” You looked at the list and sure enough, Stray Kids was there.

“No y/n nothing is going to happen trust me. Plus, who doesn’t like free gifts? I tried to ask for expensive gifts and money because someone’s wardrobe and apartment looks ugly as hell.”

“You better not be talking about me bitch. I’m gonna set that sketchbook on fire.”

Oikawa chuckled. “Add some more people on the list, I wanna see how far this can get.”

“I never said I agreed to it,” you mumbled but nonetheless added in a few of your favourite celebrities, including the queen. 

After all, if this worked, free money. What’s the harm in that?”

A lot went wrong after that.

It was three am a week after the planning and your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Grumbling, you answered the call without looking at the number…..which was a stupid mistake.

“Y/N! HOW DO I CANCEL THE WEDDING?!”

“Relax Papi you said nothing would happen? Free money right?” you yawned not even realizing what you said.

Oikawa sputtered on the other line, shaking his head and ignoring how you called him Papi for some reason. “Yeah but uh...we have a little problem.” 

“Hm…”

“Jason Derulo accepted the invite ...and he can’t wait to see the ceremony.”

From that moment, you were fully awake. “WHAT?!!”

“What do you mean you can’t cancel the wedding?” you rubbed at your temples, losing more brain cells by the minute.

"Okay so apparently my last name is common around celebrities, seeing as my father owns different restaurants. So it’s not a surprise to them that they wouldn’t attend the wedding.’

“Fuck.” you breathed out. How did the both of you not realize this?

“Okay so um..what now?”

Oikawa ruffled his air. “We go through with it.”

"Fuck no.” 

“What why?”

You’re the one who thought of this crazy idea! It’s all your fault!” 

“But you’re the one who put Jason Derulo in there!”’

You smacked your forehead. “It was a joke and for free money! Look what you got us into.”

Yells back and forth, each blaming the other. It was like the night wasn’t going to end soon. Tired from the arguing, you smacked Oikawa’s chest. “Stupid,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to do this!”

Oikawa scratched the back of his neck. “But what if I want to?” You looked up at him confused. “You know, like how Hinata and Tobio fake dated but then became boyfriends.”

“Oikawa, that’s different. That’s dating, this is marriage. It’s adult stuff, I can barely cook!”

“I’ll cook for you.”

You walked away from him, going towards his balcony. The view was beautiful, seeing various stars and the lights shining from Tokyo. “This is too much for me to handle. You're a pain, you know that?”

He wrapped his arms around you and instinctively you snuggled closer to his chest, facing the view so he wouldn’t see your red cheeks.

"Remember when we were children? And we had a whole promise that we would be with each other forever?” you laughed. The classic child marriage pact. It was as if almost all friendships started with that promise. A promise to love and stay with each other no matter what.

“That’s child play.”

He started to rub circles with his thumbs on your arms, you feeling relaxed. “One month. Give me one month after the wedding. We’ll go on a honeymoon to London, I'll teach you how to cook, you can live with me, we can adopt a puppy.” Oikawa gulped and looked at you. “And if you don’t like it, we can pretend none of this happened. In fact i’ll stop bothering you with my assignments and my presence.”

One month. That sounded like a challenge. A challenge that Oikawa was willing to risk everything for. A month to make you fall for him.

“...so we’re splitting the gifts and money equally then, right?”

A/N: I’m back! This has been in my drafts for months. At first it was supposed to be Yuto from Pentagon but after getting into Haikyuu I was like fuck it and changed it to Oikawa. Also because yes LMAO. I hope you all liked it and let me know your comments! Part two will be in the works if people want it, for now its a oneshot aha. 

Much love!

tags: @babyworld , @bakuhoes-dumbass

[iam93percentstardust]

i was about to ask you to continue your marvels unsolved ‘verse but then i saw your specific ships so i’m going to ask for a fantasy au with winteriron!! but tbh you should do whatever makes you happy it’s your birthday month!!! (happy birthday! your writing makes me so happy thank you so much for it)

Thank you so much!! I’m so happy you like my writing!!!

I ended up being inspired by the magical flower shop AU I wrote last August, but that’s not necessary to read to understand this fic. Since tumblr is still having issues with links, I won’t include the link here but if you’re interested in that one, it’s Chapter 27 of AU-gust

As always, this fic can be found on my ao3!

Roses and Rowan

It’s storming when Bucky drives past Ravenspoint’s limits. The rain is coming down hard enough that he almost misses the sign for the little town in all the gloom, but then there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the foreboding faces of the town patriarchs glaring down at those who would dare enter their town. Bucky shivers, resolutely turning away as he continues on his way.

He’s not here for them anyway. The patriarchs are long dead, their only descendants long since fled. There’s another flash of lightning, this time illuminating the hill off to the left and the old manor on the hilltop. From what little bit he can see through the storm, it looks like it was once a stately mansion but it’s falling into disrepair now. Bucky blinks and suddenly he can see the golden glimmer of the wards around the whole hill, sealing the house and grounds off from the would-be adventurers brave enough to test their mettle against the ghosts of Rosewood Manor.

Another shiver runs down his spine. The magic is strangely familiar, though he can’t place where he might have seen it before. He blinks again and the golden glimmer of the wards disappears from his view. “Spooky,” Bucky mutters. In the passenger seat, Alpine mraows her agreement. He reaches over and scratches under her chin, grinning when she purrs loud enough to drown out the music coming from the car speakers.

They pull into town a few minutes later, only knowing it by the stoplight Bucky just barely manages to make out through the sheets of rain pounding down. He would have missed it otherwise, the storm too heavy and the buildings too dark to see in the night. Ravenspoint is a small town with a population of only three thousand people, exactly one stoplight, and two streets that run the length of town, connected by a series of smaller cross streets. It’s exactly the last place Bucky ever thought he would find himself and yet here he is, searching for someone who had made it clear he didn’t want to be found.

“What am I doing, Alpine?” he asks the cat. “He told me he didn’t want me to come after him.”

Alpine can’t respond but she rolls over, exposing her belly to him, and he gets the sense of reassurance through their bond.

“I know,” he responds. “Tellin’ people he wants to be left alone when that’s usually the last thing he wants. But let’s be real here, this place is pretty far off the beaten track.”

Another pulse of reassurance.

“Well if you ask me—” the helper figment starts to say.

“I didn’t,” Bucky interrupts before it can say anything else. Damn figment’s been more trouble than it’s worth this whole trip. “Where’s the turn?”

The figment gives him a sullen look. “In five hundred yards, off to the right.”

Even as the figment says it, Bucky spots the glowing lights of the shop in the distance. He slows down and pulls over into one of the parking spots off the street, peering up through the rain at the shop sign above the door.

“Bluebells and Belladonnas,” he reads. “He always did like alliteration.”

“Great,” the figment says waspishly. “Can I go now? I got a hot—”

Bucky flicks his fingers and the figment disappears back to whatever dimension figments come from. Alpine flicks her tail lazily, giving off a sense of amusement and a little bit of hunger. Bucky laughs and scratches her chin again.

“Yeah, I would’ve let you eat it if it wouldn’t have given you indigestion,” he says. “’nother couple of minutes. I’m sure he has fresh tuna for you.”

He sighs and looks at the shop again. The sign on the front says it’s closed but there are lights on inside both in the shop itself and in the apartment above the shop, telling him that the owner is probably still working.

“So what’re you doing sitting out here?” he asks himself. He gives another baleful look at the stormy clouds and the rain still pouring down, groans, and then shrugs his hood up over his head. Nothing for it. The rain isn’t supposed to let up for another couple of hours and Bucky doesn’t feel like sitting in the car that long.

“You gonna be good out here?” he asks Alpine. She blinks slowly at him. That’s a yes, then.

Quick as he can, he gets out and dashes for the cover the awning provides. Once there, he throws his hood back and then knocks on the door. He waits about a minute before knocking again, this time a lot louder. It takes a moment before he sees a person-shaped blob behind the water-streaked glass. He knocks for a third time. The person gets larger as they move closer and then the door unlocks and swings open with a wave of the person’s hand.

“What—”

“You know,” Bucky says, stepping over the threshold. He bites back a shiver as a wave of magic washes over him, verifying that he has no ill intent. “You are a hard person to find.”

“Yeah, some people would take that as a hint,” Tony Stark states flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at Bucky.

~

Bucky is born with the ability to see magic. Or, at least, that’s the sfigmentlest way to explain it, if not the most accurate. Just about everyone can “see” magic but what they see are actually just the effects of magic—what was produced or what was done. Bucky has the ability to actually see the threads of magic. It’s a Barnes family gift, although none of the Barnes mages have had this ability in nearly two centuries. Bucky is the first in a very long time and because of that, he ends up having to go to school rather than being trained at home by the family mage (also known as Ma to Bucky and his sister).

It's at school that he meets his best friend, Stevie, and Stevie’s other best friend, Tony. Tony is a bit of an oddball, not that Bucky and Steve are incredibly popular either. Steve should be popular because of his dragon heritage and the power that brings him but he comes into his inheritance late and has a strong sense of morality and that gets him into trouble, more often than not. And Bucky just ends up following behind him.

But Tony—Tony is hard to pin down. He has incredible amounts of power, which is unusual in a mage from the Jarvis line. He’s a lot younger than most of the other kids, which isn’t so unusual for people with a lot of power—Bucky can think of a couple examples off the top of his head of people who went to school early because of their powers—but all those people went to school early because they didn’t have control, and Tony is nothing if not controlled. He doesn’t much look like either of his parents and the way he acts sometimes… it’s clear that he’s been through a lot, is all.

It’s not until their fourth year that Bucky starts putting the pieces together, and it starts when he finds out that Tony doesn’t actually get his powers from the Jarvis line but from the Carbonell line instead. He wasn’t supposed to overhear that but he and Steve had gotten in trouble again and were sitting outside the Headmistress’s office while she finished up a meeting with the Jarvises.

That’s when he’d heard it: “The Carbonell magic is strong in Tony,” the Headmistress had said, and that had been all Bucky had heard as the pieces had started falling into place. It had always puzzled Bucky how Tony’s magic, so suited to big things, had come from the Jarvises, both of whom were more skilled in household charms and enchantments, but if Tony was adopted… Adoption was rare in magical families, as magic was so often tied to filial lines, but it wasn’t unheard of, and that explained so much about Tony.

He spends some time in the library after that, researching the Carbonells. They’re an old line, originating in Italy, before coming to the Americas in the late sixteenth century. They’re known for producing powerful mages with the exact same proficiency in metallurgy that Tony’s always demonstrated. The last of them, Maria, had married one of the Starks, a newer family with a proficiency in elemental magics—another of Tony’s skills, Bucky realizes—and that’s where the trail goes cold. He never finds another mention of the Carbonells, or the Starks for that matter, in any of the old history books.

But there has to be more to the story, Bucky knows. Because there’s Tony, who looks just like Maria Carbonell, and that means there has to be more. However, he never brings it up. That’s Tony’s story, and if he doesn’t want to tell them, he doesn’t have to.

He never stops hoping that Tony will, though.

~

Tony is looking at him now, eyes dark and arms crossed. Bucky has changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he’d brought with him as his clothes had ended up drenched, even from just the short run from the car and back out to grab Alpine and his travel bag. His clothes are drying by the fire now as Alpine explores the apartment, sniffing around curiously. Bucky is curious as well, but he’s been so busy drinking in the sight of Tony after almost two years of nothing that he hasn’t taken the time yet to look around.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” Tony asks eventually.

He shrugs. “I came to find you.”

“Thought I made it obvious I didn’t want to be found.”

“I thought we had unfinished business,” Bucky says quietly. He gazes at Tony steadily until Tony squirms and turns away, busying himself with the coffeepot on the counter. He prepares two cups of coffee, one with more sugar than most people can stand and one with more milk than coffee, and hands the one with milk to Bucky.

Bucky takes one sip and blinks in surprise. “This is decaf,” he says.

“Yeah, and?”

“Tony, you don’t drink decaf. You called it the devil’s brew.”

There’s a hint of a smile lurking around the corners of Tony’s mouth as he raises his own cup to his mouth. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Seems like you’ve forgotten a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like how I promised you I’d follow you anywhere.”

Tony stills for a moment before he puts his cup back down on the counter. “Bucky—”

“Tony, why?” Bucky asks, not even bothering to hide the anguish in his voice. It’s how he’s felt every day since Tony disappeared two years ago. “You told me we’d talk the next day, only I woke up to find you’d run. Did I push too hard? Was it not what you wanted?” He stops, frustrated and upset, and scrubs his hand over his face.

“Bucky, no,” Tony says, dismayed. He moves forward, taking Bucky’s hands between his. “It wasn’t you. You have to believe me. It was never you.”

“Then what was it?”

Tony bites his lip, hesitating. Even without using his Sight, Bucky can see golden magic swirling under Tony’s skin, pooling at his hands where they’re touching Bucky’s. He blinks and now he can see his own magic, cool silver, gathering at his fingertips, aching to reach out and touch Tony’s. Their magic has always been compatible, always stronger when they’re together, even before Bucky figured out his complicated feelings for Tony.

“Doll?” he asks, immediately regretting the pet name when it makes Tony flinch. He doesn’t take it back though. This is who he is, a little old-fashioned and a little flirty and a lot in love with Tony Stark.

“It’s me,” Tony eventually admits, looking down at their hands as though he can see the magic too. “I got scared. It’s—I’m not who you think I am.”

“Not what? Not a Jarvis? Tony, I’ve known that for ten years.”

Tony’s head jerks up so fast Bucky’s own neck aches in sympathy. “What did you say?”

“Tony, I know you’re not a Jarvis,” Bucky says again, patiently. He’s never admitted this to anyone before, let alone Tony. He can afford to be careful right now.

“How did you know that?” Tony breathes. “We’ve never told anyone.”

“Except for the Headmistress,” Bucky points out. “You prob’ly had to tell her so she could help you with your abilities.”

“We did,” Tony whispers.

He shrugs. “Stevie and I overheard her one time. She said your magic came from the Carbonell line. I got curious, thought it might explain why you and the Jarvises are so different, so I looked it up.”

“You didn’t think that was invading my privacy?”

The words are harsh but Tony doesn’t look upset. He looks—hopeful, almost, like he wants to believe Bucky knows everything about him and doesn’t judge him for it. It makes Bucky bold and he steps forward, right into Tony’s space, as he tugs one of his hands free and uses it to tuck one of Tony’s curls behind his ear, fingers brushing against his cheek.

“You are a puzzle I’ve only ever wanted to solve,” Bucky murmurs, bowing his head to rest his forehead against Tony’s. His hand cups Tony’s cheek for the briefest moment and then falls to his shoulder. Tony closes his eyes and inhales shakily. “But the moment the trail went cold, I stopped looking. It didn’t seem right to keep digging.”

“What did you find?” Tony asks.

“Two names: Howard Stark and Maria Carbonell, that’s it.”

Tony nods. “Those were my parents.”

“Were?”

“Could be are. I don’t know where they went after they left me, but I stopped calling them mine the moment they were gone.”

“What happened?” He feels Tony tense under his hand and quickly adds, “If you want to tell me. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“No, it’s—I want to,” Tony says, sounding frustrated. The space between his brows furrows in irritation. “I’ve just never told anyone and—I’m not sure I’m ready to tell the full story yet. It’s a lot.”

“Whatever you’re ready for, then. And when you’re ready for the rest, I’ll be right here to listen.”

Tony takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “I was born at Rosewood Manor,” he says quietly.

“That place outside of town?”

“Mmhmm. That’s my magic you probably saw guarding it.”

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony, that place looks like it hasn’t had anyone living there for fifteen years.”

“Over twenty actually. I was three when—when that happened.”

“You were three? And you had that kind of control?”

Tony laughs humorlessly. “Believe me, that night I had no control at all.” He falls silent. Bucky waits for more, but Tony seems to be done talking for tonight, so he turns his head and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth instead.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says.

Tony grimaces. “Not like I told you much of anything.”

“You told me what you were comfortable with. Believe me, doll, after two years of nothing—”

“You keep doing that,” Tony interrupts. “Calling me doll.”

Bucky hesitates. “I thought you liked it when I did that.”

Tony looks away, a bitter twist to his mouth. “I left.”

“Yeah…”

“I left right after you kissed me because I was scared and couldn’t face up to what was going on between us even though I promised we’d talk.”

Bucky waits, sure that if he stays silent, Tony will explain further. It’s a trick that he’s used in the past and it’s always worked. Sure enough, after another couple moments:

“You know, I was so sure you were dating Steve? Let me finish please,” Tony says calmly, holding up a hand when Bucky opens his mouth. “You don’t know what it was like. I might have met Steve first but it was so clear that you two were a lot closer than I would ever be with him. So yes, I was convinced you two were dating and that I was alone in my feelings and when I found out I wasn’t, I panicked. I thought it was Tony Jarvis you liked, not—”

“I like you,” Bucky interrupts, unable to keep hearing Tony talk about how he’d thought Bucky wasn’t serious about him, when he thinks maybe it’s the only thing he’s ever been serious about. “I like you as Tony Jarvis, Tony Carbonell, Tony Stark, or just plain Tony.”

“Like?” Tony asks shyly.

Bucky grins and kisses the other corner of Tony’s mouth. “Do you think I would have kept searching for you for two years if I didn’t still like you?”

Tony leans back for a moment, searching his eyes for something before he eventually says, “And what about Tony Barnes?”

Bucky’s heart about stops. He wheezes out, “You—”

“It’s not—I needed a name when I came back to Ravenspoint. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was and it’s a small town. People know every other name I go by, but—I didn’t think you’d mind or I wouldn’t—”

Bucky can’t stop himself anymore. He frames Tony’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly. It’s closed-mouthed and chaste and it’s still the best damn kiss he’s ever had, next to the only other time he kissed Tony. Tony’s hands flutter in the air for a second before wrapping around Bucky’s waist, clutching him to him.

“I love you calling yourself by my name,” he says hoarsely, pulling away long enough to get the words out before he kisses Tony again. “And one day, I swear I’ll give you that name for real, forever and always.” This time, it’s Tony who whfigmenters and kisses him again, sucking Bucky’s tongue into his mouth as Bucky’s hands slide back into his hair to hold him right where he wants him.

“Wait,” Tony pants, struggling against Bucky’s grip to move away. Bucky lets him go reluctantly, gratified when Tony only moves a couple inches. “How did you find me?”

“Your magic,” Bucky tells him, trailing kisses across every inch of his face. “It’s been callin’ out to me since the day you left, leavin’ me a trail to follow.”

“Lucky me,” Tony whispers.

And as Bucky kisses him again, unable to resist for a single second, he thinks to himself, No. Lucky me.

[philliamwrites]

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.1]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 2k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla," sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia's hands.

____________

Loosely connected chapters about you and Childe finding happiness. Maybe.

Notes: Part 2

Masterlist

***

childe? what a problematic asshole i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of childe spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

Chapter 1

     A cold gust of icy wind drives you deeper into the sheets and you swear by the name of Her Majesty Herself once you get up and find Alexei, you’ll smother him with a towel for leaving a window open in the middle of the night.

    Somewhere outside, a rooster crows. Fine, not dead of the night then, but no one cares for technicalities like these when sleep is involved. Especially after a night like this one, when Alexei fucked you into oblivion and back, you need every minute of shuteye you can get before another day of exhausting missions in the Chechnaya Taiga of Snezhnaya claims your last strand of sanity.

    It’s peaceful mornings like these that make it all worthwhile though—the quiet during the early golden hour when people slowly wake up to a brand-new day and get ready to do their chores, their factory work. The sheer number of possibilities stretching out before their hands, and hope rekindled every morning despite the harsh cold waiting at their doorsteps. You love how everything stands still, how even the uncaring universe seems to grant people a sliver of peace, allows them to be soft and vulnerable. To be kind to themselves by indulging in a freshly brewed cup of coffee or tea. Nothing can spoil this for you, nothing and no one—

    An awkward cough sounds from the door. You close your eyes, willing him to disappear by simply ignoring him, but his eyes burn into the back of your head like two smouldering coals and eventually, you turn around to see Alexei standing in the door frame, shifting from left to right. “There’s someone out there who wants to talk to you,” he says.

    Turning around, you try to disappear into your pillow. “Whoever it is, I’m sure they can wait until it isn’t such a damn unholy time.”

    Alexei clears his throat. “It’s uhm … it’s someone from the Fatui.”

    Your eyes snap open. Suddenly the warm, cosy blankets feel like a snake’s tight hold around your body, and you struggle out of its grip, grabbing for the dressing gown you carelessly threw around the back of your chair last night.

    The sun hangs low in the east, painting the city of Kerch that stretches outside of your window a sheen of dusky gold. When the red-brown bricks of the dacha cottages come into view, you think of the gingerbread houses you used to make as a child every year in celebration of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa of the Zapolyarny Palace.

    Cold already seeps into your bones even though the robe is tight around your body. You hiss when your bare feet hit the icy floor but can’t find your slippers. Time to die like a woman.

    You brush past Alexei, who’s scratching his head, still just in his underwear and you think him crazy for walking around half-naked like that even though it’s minus 58F outside and the heating systems inside your barracks only start to work once outside temperatures drop to minus 75F.

    Maybe what they say is true. People from around Noyabrsk in the north of Snezhnaya regularly dip into frosty rivers and you do remember him mentioning ice swimming is his hobby. It was one of the few things you thought attractive about him. Actually, it was the only thing you thought attractive about him.

    Light streams into the floor from the kitchen, flickering once, twice in dangerous foreboding. It’s time to switch the lightbulb. Tomorrow. Tomorrow for sure, because that isn’t important right now. What’s important is Tartaglia sitting at your table, leaning back in a chair, both feet crossed on top of the table, and eating your leftover mayonnaise sandwich you saved up for breakfast.

    His eyes slide lazily toward you, taking in your form—barefoot, shivering even though the fur from your bathrobe is of the finest white wolf fur obtainable on the market.

    Tartaglia finishes your sandwich, smacks his lips and licks mayo off his fingers. He doesn’t even like it, and you know from time to time he can’t handle dairy all that well. He just eats it because he knows how it infuriates you.

    “Alexei, huh,” he says in lieu of hello. “Didn’t know you’re into himbos.”

    Behind you, Alexei makes a sound like a kicked puppy. You glare at him over your shoulder, then jut your chin towards the front door. “Out. Now.”

    He doesn’t wait for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly fast for a guy this big, he bolts into your room, gets dressed in record speed and leaves your little one-bedroom apartment without so much as a Goodbye or “We’ll hear from each other,” and you prefer it that way. It saves stuff from getting messy.

    Speaking of messy, you really wish Tartaglia would have sent you a note before coming. The smell of icy wind and snowy forests clings to his clothes. He must have come straight from a mission, not unusual in the slightest, yet in most cases he sends a message your way just to make sure he doesn’t run into one of your one-night stands and it doesn’t get ugly.

    Like right now.

    “I thought you had a little more class than that,” he says nonchalantly. His feet keep wobbling from left to right until you make your way over and push them off your table. Not that you actually sit there to take your meals, no. But this is your home, you have to assert dominance.

    “Well, I’m not picky,” you say, taking the empty chair opposite from him. “The nights of Fyrva’snezh are really fucking cold.”

    “I’m sure Fire-Water will do the same trick.” He’s sulking, yet he has no right to it and knowing Tartaglia, that’s why he sulks even more.

    Your relationship can be summarised with one word: complicated. Which is funny, because besides martial arts classes (taught by a teacher that is a real ball of sunshine who could easily snap your spine like a twig) and infiltration tactics courses (led by a grumpy teacher who once woke you all up in the middle of the night to do a spontaneous quiz about infiltration steps and everyone who failed or fell asleep had to run a marathon through the forest in their underwear) you had to take at the Fatui military school of Zapolyarny, they also teach mathematics and molecular physics, and that shit was complicated.

    Growing up in a small seaside village—bless little Morepesok; how much you miss babushka Katya’s refreshing botvinia soup—with only a handful kids your age, gravitating towards Tartaglia was the natural development. He loves ice-fishing, you love eating fish. You gag just smelling solyanka, he wolfs it down like it might be his last meal on earth. Opposites attract each other, as they say, and how true it is for you two—you, the morning person and he, the night owl; his will of iron and your nerves of steel. Your bow, his sword, even though Tartaglia is a masochist who likes to make it hard for himself by trying to switch weapons solely because you’re better at it than him and he is a sore loser.

    His worship of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, your fear of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

    “I don’t think you came all the way here just to call me a slut,” you say. He is in no position to do so anyway, because Camilla from the ptychy’moloko shop down the road that leads to the Sarov church didn’t shut up about blowing him for weeks until you sent her a liver of a pig and claimed that was the leftovers from the last girl that thought she could put a leash on the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Camilla quickly moved on to an inconspicuous merchant who sells matryoshka dolls for a living and all is well that ends well.

    “What do you want?”

    Tartaglia starts tapping a gloved finger against the wooden table, a nervous tick you don’t know he’s aware of.

    “I’m leaving for Liyue first thing tomorrow.” His tone is low when he speaks, his earlier nonchalance replaced by a sense of urgency.

    “Okay.” It isn’t the first time he’s leaving Snezhnaya by order of the Tsaritsa, but every time he does, something inside you leaves with him. “So, you want me to keep an eye out for Teucer and the others?”

    “He’s really unhappy I’m leaving again already.” Tartaglia doesn’t mention the reason he was sent away just a couple of months ago to Inazuma was because he accidentally blew up an artillery factory belonging to a nobleman that secretly shipped orders to Fontain. The fallout from that was easier to handle with him not being anywhere nearby. Tartaglia is like a pair of hot tongues; no one is sure where to put him or how soon he would cool off, but if they just drop him, he might light the world on fire. Kid gloves are put on and a careful perimeter marked out.

    “And what excuse did you make up this time?” You knock your foot into his leg, lingering on his calf just a second too long before withdrawing again. “Another business trip to promote your toys? You can’t hold up this charade forever, you know.”

    “Why, your eyes feast on Snezhnaya’s greatest expatriate toy seller, now extending to the Liyue Branch of our Institute for Toy Research.” Tartaglia’s eyes have taken on a playful glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “You wouldn’t be so cold to break a little boy’s heart. That’s not you.”

    You want to remind him that you have no problem to put an arrow between a man’s eyes, or rip out his fingernails, one by one, to get the information that you want.

    “You owe me, toy man.”

    “Put it on my tab.”

    Tartaglia looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but as always, he decides to swallow those words even though they must hurt like swallowing needles. You know that feeling, and so you help him sort out his tightly entangled yarn of emotions by figuratively pushing him off the cliff.

    “Don’t forget to bring condoms. I hear the women of Liyue are beautiful.”

    Tartaglia goes a sickly grey colour, like the ashes of a dead fire, but he’s been the leading role of this play too long to fall out of character now. He gets up and stretches like a cat getting comfortable in a spot of sunlight. His jacket rides up, showing a stripe of skin, and you quickly turn your head away before giving into leaning over the table and mark him with your teeth.

    Patting his left pants’ pocket, Tartaglia says, “I’m always prepared.” He carries a grin that is dry, humourless, and for a brief moment, you two lock eyes, trading a look that feels like a dare. You allow yourselves to imagine how he picks you up and carries you to your bed where you two would proceed to fuck without abandon through the whole day and the following night, leaving the bed only to get food until Tartaglia leaves for Liyue and you’d send each other love letters until his return. What an idea. What an utterly stupid, naive, wonderful idea.

    “Well, lucky ladies,” you say, not bothering to hide the jealousy in your voice because jealousy is easier to handle than regret.

    “Lucky indeed,” he agrees and dons his easy-going smile, one that he’s perfected after hours upon hours in front of the mirror until it accomplished what he wanted: to mock people, infuriate them.

    On his way out, he stops to ruffle your hair in an affectionate way, one typical for childhood friends, but the distance between you is like the ocean separating Snezhnaya from Liyue.

    It was on the very first day of your conscription into the military organisation, Number Six of the Ten Laws that the Fatui abide by: Any physical or romantic relationship between Fatui agents is prohibited. As thou would not exchange flesh with thy brother or sister, so thou shalt not with your comrade, for he or she is thy brother or sister in arms.

    And everyone knows Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s word is law, and though the law is hard, it is the law.

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