#loose Tangled AU

[sociallyrepressed]

tangled fates

“Colapinto! It is the demand of the law you be stopped! Surrender!”

It’s really wonder how Franco finds himself in these situations. Actually, not really, if he thinks about it. He definitely knew what he was getting into when he agreed to steal the crown with the twins- then betray said twins. Whatever, it’s a criminal world, there are no friends.

He’s panting heavily, breathes rattling in his chest. There’s the pounding of horse hooves behind him, and he’s ducking through foliage.

It’s really fucking unfair. He’s running on foot and they’ve got prized stallions of a high pedigree to chase him down. Fucking English whores. He bursts through another array of hanging vines, scrambling to dig his heels into the rocky earth of the sudden cliff’s edge. What the fuck.

He rears back, but he doesn’t have time to turn around and go a different direction, not with the royal guard down his neck, so he looks around frantically for anywhere to hide. On his third visual pass he notices a an entrance tucked behind an outcrop of rock and covered by overgrowth. He runs to it, cursing quietly when he realizes there are several industrial locks on the outside of the door.

Digging through his satchel frantically, Franco pulls out his handy piece of welded elastic iron, setting to work picking the many locks. Honestly, there’s an absurd amount of locks.

The thundering sound of the guard is fastly approaching. The last lock gives just as the shiny reflection of glossy horse coats, and he shoves his way through the door, slamming it shut behind him. He leans against the door to listen, since there are no windows, releasing a sigh of relief upon hearing the retreat of the guards.

Relaxing his shoulders, Franco turns to look at his surroundings.

“Hello?” It looks like the inside of a cottage, complete with a kettle whistling on the stove. Counters and shelves and surfaces everywhere are covered by clay creations. “Is anyone here?” Franco walks through, trying to find a back exit. Beyond the front area and the kitchen, there’s a living room filled with pictures and books. Despite a general feeling of wariness, curiosity wins out and takes a closer looks at the frames. There are many smiling faces and moments in time that stare back at him, a lot of them appearing more than once. He’s so distracted by looking at the faces, trying to figure out which one owns the cottage, that he doesn’t hear a soft growling from behind. He doesn’t see the figure approaching his back until it’s too late- all he can see is the reflection of something being swung behind him before it all goes dark.

Curiosity killed the cat, and all that.

There’s an ache wrapping his head in cotton, senses dulled and sluggish when he comes to. The first thing he processes is something rough and wet pressing against his ears. Franco’s eyes snap open to see a big dog blocking most of his vision and licking the side of his face.

He lets out a yell and goes to push the dog away when he realizes his wrists and ankles have been restrained to a chair.

“What the…”

“How did you find me here?” A voice comes from the dark corner of whatever room he’s in- he’s probably concussed, he’s going to give himself grace at his lack of awareness. Squinting his eyes to try and make out any features at all doesn’t help. Luckily, the man- and he knows it’s a man from the voice- steps into the ring of light around the center of the room.

And he’s. The man is quite pretty, in Franco’s opinion. Planes of tanned skin and a mess of rich brown curls atop his head. He’s lean, but not skinny, Franco can see muscles shift in his legs when he moves and in his arms when he lifts-

“Wait, wait, wait!” He stops the man from swinging a damn frying pan at his head again. He realizes he hadn’t been listening to him talking, whoops. He does the safe thing and answers the first question, “I didn’t find you anywhere, don’t even know who you are. Although, if the fates did guide me here I wouldn’t complain.” He feels his lips pull back into an impish grin.

Fuck his natural tendencies to flirt his way out of situations. Damn. The man steps back and lowers his weapon out of shock.

“What?”

Franco winces to himself but ultimately decides to lean into it as long as it keeps the pan away from his head. “Franco Colapinto, and I’m here because the Mother decided you’re too pretty to be as lonesome as you are. She led me here.” The man raises his eyebrows, unimpressed. Even the dog sits back on its haunches, eyebrows furrowed like it’s giving him a judgmental look. He doesn’t cringe, not one bit. “And who are you?”

He hesitates a moment before answering, “Lando.” Then he gestures to the dog, who is still staring at Franco. “And this is Max. But why are you here?”

And uh oh. Suddenly he remembers the satchel and the prized diadem hidden within. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Where is it? The satchel.”

Lando’s face turns smug. “It’s somewhere you’ll never find it.” The dog barks in agreement.

He cranes his neck to peer at the various pots in the corners of the room. One sticks out to him, bright and beautiful. “It’s in that pot, isn’t it?” He raises an eyebrow. Lando narrows his eyes and sucks in a breath, swinging the pan at Franco’s head before he can even open his mouth to protest.

There’s something pulling at the side of his face. A rough, wet type of friction that’s- Franco’s eyes snap open again to see Max with his paws up on the side of chair, licking his ear.

“Stop doing that,” he whips his back as far as he can to get away from the dog-breath. Somehow, Max seems to understand, pulling back and padding over to sit at his master’s feet. Speaking of, Franco drags his eyes appreciatively over Lando.

“Now you’ll never find it.” His grin is infectious, and he might be the worst kidnapper Franco’s ever met. He wonders how long it’s been since he’s socialized with another human being, or maybe even anything living that’s not the dog.

“That’s alright, I think I’ve found something more valuable anyways.” It’s really not alright, the diadem is worth fortunes, but he doesn’t quite think the wealth of the Seven Kingdoms equates to seeing a blush spread across his cheeks.

“Enough.” He snaps, but Franco doesn’t feel chastised. It’s hard to when he can see the effects of his words on the man. “If you want it back you’re going to do me a favor.”

“A favor?” He allows his eyes to drag over him again. Franco knows that’s not what he meant, he just can’t help but to tease such a responsive victim.

Lando scowls at him. “I want to see the stars.”

“The stars?” Disbelieving. A possession worth more than their lives in his grasp, a criminal with a reward of thousands, and he wants to see stars? “Uh, you can’t just go outside and see them?”

“No, not those ones. The ones that only come out once a year. Tomorrow night.”

Ah, he’s talking about the lanterns for the lost prince. Should be easy enough.

“Alright, Lando, you’ve got yourself a deal. Release me.”

Lando stands for a few moments, studying him. Once he’s decided Franco probably won’t attack him and run, he carefully unties the binds that connected Franco and the chair.

“Well, come on then princess, we’ve got some lights to see.”

[whollyjoly]

hot in the day, hot in the night, hot as the coal coming to tread, light on your bed, here we go oh, listen whistle roll (baby the, the sun is getting low)

the bucktommy cowboy au nobody asked for part two (part one) (part three)

(song insp.)

[tamblerdraws]

Joel week night four - diverging paths

Also tw for blood (not very accurate blood probably, but it do be blood)

Tangled au tangled au tangled au tangled au

Also closeups

@risibledeer

[yeetus-feetus]

Another for WIP Wednesday

Update on the Rapunzel AU that I'm working on for @dragonpyre

Prepare yourself for 10 pages of this below the cut

(I'm starting to loose motivation and need praise to feed my energy so I can write more lol)

Warning: I use google translate for the non-english words (please correct me if I get something wrong)

Jason, second heir to the throne of Gotham, was a happy little boy with a very loud personality. A former street kid, he was adopted into royalty at the age of 2 following his mother’s death, much like his older brother Richard, by the current King of Darkness.

Make no mistake by the title he holds, Bruce Wayne is a very Just king, though he cloaks himself in the fine fabrics of midnight and gold emblems that glitter like the stars.

But the young prince Jason was a ball of energy with a smart mouth and a baby as he were, often got on the wrong people's nerves. There was one man in particular, the Jester of the court– who was perhaps something more than a simple Jester to the King, maybe even a friend– had joined the Royal staff after a terrible accident that disfigured him many moons before Jason himself was even born.

On this day, Jason was only five when he trod on the odd man’s toes. He can’t remember what he’d said to the man, but it was something with loud youthful ignorance behind it, maybe something about his permanent smile and moon-pale skin. It wasn’t anything nice, to say the least, but who can blame a child of such brutal, unthinking honesty without the better knowledge on how such things were hurtful.

Maybe a man with a soft heart, and the belief he could give everyone in his Kingdom a better life and a second chance, should be blamed on keeping criminals and the insane in his company. Maybe a toddler in bright mocking colours shouldn’t have been left unattended to in the palace halls after a silly disagreement regarding his biological mother.

The Jester never returned to the King’s court after that night.

The boy, Jason, had been found in a puddle of his own bastard blood in a storeroom downstairs by the cellar, in teeny tiny shackles with his small bones shattered, tear streaks still wet on his cheeks as he lay limp on the freezing cold cement floor.

The King had wept, cradling the young Prince’s broken body close to him, wailed and begged for the boy to come back to him, pleading for forgiveness from a child who was no more. The King of Darkness caressed the soft face of a lifeless shell, and that was when the shadows spoke.

A deep eerie voice had filled his ears from all directions, reminding him of a tale he had believed to be only myth. The story of the moon when she wept for her own son once very long ago …

A single tear of moonlight had fallen from the heavens, and from this small drop of sorrow bloomed a magic, glowing flower. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured– and in extremely rare cases, even raise the dead if the moon wished it so.

“However, the Flower of Lazarus is protected by a Demon whom hoards it for its youth restoring power”, the low voice warned. “And you have only until the fourth day, beginning when the sun breaks over your Kingdom at dawn, to retrieve it. For when the sun sets on that day, the boy will remain in a tomb forever.”

Bruce, because he is no King down here with a dead son in his arms, remains speechless and confused. Before he could gather his thoughts and interrogate the validity of this supernatural voice, a flock of bats screeched and swarmed and then the voice was gone.

And a man was left in a cold empty room with his beaten bloody five year old, fear and determination filling his heavy heart. A hope that in four days time, his son will be returned to the earth and fill the Palace with his laughter once more.

⧫

The quest carried out by the King’s Guard had proved successful, and the magic of the Lazarus Flower, brewed into a glowing green liquid potion heals the dead Prince’s body on the morning of the fourth day.

A new tale of rebirth bringing the kingdom together as the King launched a floating lantern into the darkness of the night sky. A symbol of prevailing hope and new life, to celebrate the return of his beloved young son.

Even though Jason remained asleep, recovering his strength after lying limp and dead for days, he was alive, and his father was grateful as he watched his peaceful sleep, watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath and cried. He held his tiny hand in his, warm and living, a steady pulse beneath Bruce’s thumb.

For that one moment, everything was perfect.

And then that moment ended.

A cloaked woman had entered young Jason’s room that very night by way of the balcony, silently creeping towards the boy’s bed where he slept soundly, unknowing to the threat of her presence. The woman pulled back her hood and stroked a deadly gentle hand up over his face until she reached his soft baby curls as she sang in hushed tones.

“Flower gleam and glow”

And glow the child’s hair did, a bright green hue filling the room. She pulled a long lock of the glowing hair taught between calloused fingers, reaching into the deep green of her garments for the jewelled hilt of a small, sharp knife as she continued.

“Let your powers shine”

The blade glinted in the unnatural light as the woman’s tan hand brought the sharpened knife up…

“Make the clock re–”

But as the knife sliced through the strands of hair it turned lifeless and lost its colour, turning moon-white and powerless.

The shock and confusion was clear on the woman’s face, a frown carving its way into her beautiful features as she realised what she must do in order to fulfil her father’s wishes.

Just like that, Jason was stolen, gone.

The Kingdom searched and searched by order of their devastated, grieving King, but all their attempts at recovering the small boy proved futile. They could not find the Prince of Gotham.

For deep within the forest, in a tall hidden tower, the woman– Talia Al Ghul– raised the child as her own.

⧫

When Jason had finally awoken, his memories were muddled and hazy and not all there. His head ached like it was splitting and the lamp light in the room was much too bright.

The comfort of a woman who claimed to be his mother held him close in her warmth and sang to him with her gentle voice, easing his worry as he hid his face in the soft silk of her robes.

“Flower gleam and glow,

Let your power shine

Make the clock reverse,”

A strong masculine hand combed through Jason’s precious curls, soothing the painful pressure in his skull with rough, wrinkled fingers that softened and grew young with the green glow above his head.

“Bring back what once was mine,

What once was mine”

And that was that. Jason knew he belonged here.

⧫

The Al Ghul’s– Ra’s in particular– had found their new magic flower, and this time they were determined to keep it hidden. To keep it safe and unharmed, and away from the rest of the world.

It’s one day, whilst his Grandfather is combing through Jason’s wavy hair as he finished singing, that the then 8 year old boy asks:

“Why can’t I go outside?”

His mother had looked up from where she’d been concentrating hard on some scrolls in front of her that he wasn’t allowed to read. “The outside world is a dangerous place, filled with horrible, selfish people. You must stay here, where you are safe. Do you understand, Rayean*?”

*(Arabic: flower, bloom, flowering)

Jason nodded his head obediently. “Yes, Mama”.

But the walls of that high tower could not hide everything.

Each year on the day of his rebirth and disappearance, April 27th– a day that should have been filled with sunshine but fell sorely short of anything more than gloomy– the King of Gotham and his trusted royal butler would release thousands of lanterns into the sky, in the hope that one day, their lost Prince would be returned to them.

And every year, on his birthday, Jason watched them from the tower window in awe and curiosity.

⧫

[many years later]

A small robin hides behind a terracotta flower pot by the open window, seemingly holding its breath, and doing its best to blend in amongst the floral pattern etched into it.

Inside the tower, a young man, with long, wavy ebony hair, shoves aside rich purple tapestries draped over the wall above the home’s hearth.

“HAH!.. hmm, well… I guess Pascal’s not hiding here”.

The small bird twitters in amusement, only to be snatched up by a thick lock of hair as it shrieks in surprise. Jason laughs loudly at the robin’s expense, letting it perch on the back of his hand as he grins. “Gotcha!!! That’s twenty two for me. How ‘bout twenty three out of forty five?”

The robin, Pascal, shakes his head in disagreement, chirping unhappily.

“Okay, well. What d’you wanna do?” Jason asks.

The bird turns and gestures his bright yellow beak at the window, eagerly indicating that he wants to go outside. The young man lets out a puff of air in response.

“Yeah no, I don't think so. I like it in here and so do you.” but all the bird does is turn all the way around, facing away from Jason altogether. “Oh c’mon Pascal, it’s not so bad in there”.

The robin doesn’t turn around, choosing to ignore the boy, who pouts in response.

“Pascaaalll”, Jason drags the name of the small familiar out, making pleading eyes at him. The robin puffs out and finally turns around, making the young man smile. “Sing with me?” he asks, and the bird weighs his head from side to side before chirping his agreement.

And so they sing as Jason goes about his daily routine of mopping and sweeping the tower’s gorgeous tiled floors. Then he’s doing the laundry for his mother and going for a shower to freshen himself up, going through the tremendous effort of cleaning and brushing out his wavy hair.

But it’s still early morning by the time he’s finished, and he’s desperately bored with Mother and Grandfather away doing whatever it was that is so damn important.

So Jason is flopped out on his bed, still working on a small braid that he had started maybe half an hour ago.

He’d taken a few pieces of hair tucked behind his ear and decided that there was nothing better to do. It was difficult enough, with just how long his hair was, to make the small braid on his own. The strands of hair had gotten tangled further down as he focused on twisting it together, and almost made him give up several times in frustration. But Jason was stubborn, and now he was finally, finally tying off the end of it.

And… he’s bored again.

“Urghh”, he groans, rolling over and burying his face into his silk red pillowcase. His words are muffled as he complains, “when will my life begin, Pascal? I’m so sick of being stuck in this stupid tower!”

Pascal chirps from where he’s sitting on the bookcase, one filled with all sorts of books, mostly poetry and theatre, in both English and Arabic. And the bird chirps again, even louder, as he tries to get the young man's attention.

“What?” Jason groans once more, pulling his head up out of the pillow and glaring at the robin. Pascal tilts his head before he starts pecking at the cover of one of the many books. “Read?” he asks, and the bird nods.

“I’ve already read every book in this tower thrice over! There’s nothing to do heeere”, the boy whines loudly, rolling himself off the bed and onto the soft Persian rug below with a heavy, dramatic thud.

On the floor, he catches a glimpse of his shell-based paints tucked away under his bed, an idea popping into his head. He grins, reaching forward to scoop them all up and place them on top the geometric pattern of his sheets. “What should we paint today, Pascal?” Jason asks with enthusiasm, and the little robin twitters happily in response.

Hours later and Jason is practising guitar, waiting for certain areas of paint to dry before he can continue adding to the art on the walls. He paints some more, then he’s knitting and playing Chess with Pascal, and soon enough his stomach is growling.

“You hungry Pascal?” Jason asks.

The bird chirps in response and flies into the kitchen, making the young man smile as he huffs out a soft laugh.

“Good, ‘cause I am too”.

Jason makes himself some toast, humming a made up tune while Pascal whistles along with him. “Breadcrumbs my good sir?” Jason asks in a dramatic flourish as he sets out a plate of broken up bread on the small but lavish dining table. The robin twitters happily and digs his little beak in.

After lunch Jason fills his time with puzzles, throwing darts and weightlifting. Then decides to bake some cookies as a treat for when his mother and grandfather return, and while he waits for the timer on the oven there’s another game of hide and seek played between him and Pascal.

By nightfall, Jason has finally exhausted his boredom, yawning as he sits on the windowsill and sketches pictures of Pascal in a near-ful sketch-book by the candlelight.

“Hmm, maybe I could make some more candles tomorrow while I'm waiting for them to come home?” He wonders aloud, he hasn’t made candles in a long while now, and it’s a good activity to fill his time with.

Pascal chirps quietly, as if in agreement with the idea, nestling into Jason’s side. He lets out a breath of amusement at the action and yawns again. “I guess we should be heading to bed then…” he says as he tucks the book under his arm and cups the little robin in his palms, making his way to his bedroom.

There he sets the little bird down on a cushion on his bedside table and flops back in his bed.“G’night Pascal”, he sighs. Staring up at the night sky he painted above his bed, wishing he could be laying on the grass outside instead.

He closes his eyes and has the same odd dream he does every night. The one with the smiling man, and the cold rough concrete scraping against his skin, cold metal against his ribs, and the laughter– but not happy laughter… It’s just a dream, though, and it passes. And he sleeps through the rest of the night dreamless.

So early the next day Jason made candles, then made candle holders with clay and painted those too. And he re-read a book or three, sewed together some holes he found in the sleeve of his shirt and put himself together in something nice to greet his folks with when they got home later that afternoon. Then went through the most tedious chore of brushing and brushing and brushing his hair.

“Arggh! I wish I could just cut all this stupid hair off!” he complained several times, Pascal twittering mockingly at him.

By the time he was done there was still time to spare, and he layed out face-down on the cool tiled floor quite dramatically as he groaned. “When will my life begin, Pascal?” he asks the bird again, as he would ask him everyday.

“Will I ever get to leave the tower? Go away on long trips like mother? Or away for important business matters like Grandfather?” he huffs and presses his forehead into the mosaic of the tile. “What do they even do out there!?”

Jason's throat closes up and his eyes water and burn with unshed tears. “What are they doing out there… when they leave me here, alone and all by myself, for days on end– Mother for months at a time even!” A tear carves a path down his cheek as his hands clench in fists against the cold floor. “If it’s so dangerous out there why don’t they just stay?”

The small robin chirps at him from his perch on the windowsill and Jason rolls onto his back to glare up at him, but the blue morning sky outside catches his eye instead and he sighs, feeling defeated and lost.

Like he’s missing something he can’t quite place, and somehow it’s somewhere out there.

“Tomorrow night those lights will appear”, he says more to himself than the bird watching him carefully. “Just like they do every year on my birthday…”

He sits up and wipes the wet away from his face, turning to look up at one of his paintings, hidden by the tapestries hung above the hearth, but peaking out just enough to remind him it’s there. The bird tilts his head as Jason stands and moves towards it, pulling the rich fabrics aside to gaze up at his art.

Then he pulls himself up onto the hearth to sit on the sturdy ledge, running a hand over the bright spots of light he’s painted against the dark blue night sky he’s made of the wall, tracing his fingers down the length of his painted raven hair that spills down the sandstone canvas.

The full painting altogether depicts Jason himself, outside the tower somewhere, reaching up towards the blots of light as if he could touch them with his fingertips if he just stretched his arm up high enough.

“What is it like out there, where they glow? …now that I'm older, mother might finally let me go”. Jason frowns and turns his head away. “Just maybe”, he whispers to himself.

⧫

Back in the Kingdom of Gotham, two shady figures are scaling the rough brick of the Palace walls, expertly leaping across the roof and making sure to keep hidden from the guards patrolling below.

The man, with fire-bright orange hair tied in a messy bun, bow and arrows strapped to his back, stops and looks out over the Kingdom and the dark rolling hills beyond, a stupid smile on his face. “Wow, I could get used to a view like this!”

The woman behind him, in a form-fitting green and gold one piece suit– resembling one much like a ninja’s, glares at the back of his head. “Arsenal, come on.”

Arsenal just grins and waves her off. “Yeah, hold on, Cheshire.” Sitting his hands on his hips he stares out at the view for a little longer, taking it all in for a few moments as the woman scowls. “Yep, I'm used to it. Man, I want a castle”.

Cheshire rolls her eyes, huffing out an irritated breath. “We do this job, you can buy your own damn castle”, she groans, yanking him by the collar and over towards their entrance between the whether-worn roof tiles of the Palace.

Arsenal is slowly and carefully lowered down into the Royal throne room by a strong, thick rope tied sturdily around his waist. As the woman above lowers him further down, until he’s just hovering over the glass case holding the lost Prince’s crown, one of the Guards sneeze and the redhead lets a stupid smile curl his lips.

“Oh, hay fever?” he asks with an amused, cocky grin on his face.

“Yeah”, the guard replies before quickly spinning around in surprise, catching the smug man leaning against the case with the Prince’s crown in his hand. “Wait, what?” he buffers in confusion.

And Arsenal is quickly lifted, well more like harshly yanked, up towards the high ceilings, escaping through the roof as the guard shouts up at him.

“Hey! Wait! Thief!”The other guards posted in various other places of the room rush over, as this happens, before one of them shouts, “After him!” and they all rush out to ready a chase on horseback.

The duo make their escape, over the bridge joining the island of Gotham to where those dark rolling hills lay, Arsenal running his mouth as they rush to get outside the borders of the dark and gloomy Kingdom. “Can’t you picture me in a castle of my own? I mean, I certainly can. Oh, the things we’ve seen and it’s only 9 in the mornin’! This is a very big day for us!”

⧫

Back at the tower, Jason has taken on an air of determination, re-tidying up a few things as the clock ticks closer to the time his mother promised their arrival.

“Alright, this is it. This is a very big day, Pascal”, he says with confidence– more of a facade to cover his shaky nerves. “I’m actually gonna do it, I’m finally gonna ask them!” he lets out a wavering breath and hypes himself up for it.

And that’s when he hears his mother’s familiar voice calling up to him from outside. “Jason! Let down your hair!”

Jason turns to the mirror and quickly fixes his outfit, wanting to look presentable and like he hadn’t been lying on the floor earlier. “Okay, it’s time, it’s time. Deep breaths Jay.” Then he turns to the robin watching him. “Go Pascal, hide! Don’t let them see you”.

“JASON! I’m not getting any younger down here!” his grandfather shouts for him from below, and the boy in question hurries over to the large window.

“Coming Grandfather!”, he calls back, throwing his hair over the large hook overhead and casting down his 70 feet of hair.

His mother is the first to be pulled up though, and once she’s through the window, kisses Jason’s forehead and wraps her arms around him in greeting, before sweeping down the hall to put her bags down in her room.

He pulls his grandfather up second and, once inside, Ra’s pats Jason’s shoulder as the boy tries to catch his breath. “Oh how you manage to do that almost everyday without fail, Hafid*, it looks absolutely exhausting”, he says as he slides the heavy, emerald-green cloak off his broad shoulders.

*(Arabic: Grandson)

“It’s nothing. Really”, Jason replies reassuringly, taking the older man’s coak and hanging it on the wall behind him.

His Grandfather sighs as he walks further into the large room. “Well then, I don’t know what takes you so long”, he laughs. And Jason tenses uncomfortably and lowers his head, promising himself he’ll do better next time, when his mother catches the look in his eye from the arch of the hallway’s entrance.

“Oh, aleaziz*”, her voice is gentle as she sweeps across the room and tilts his head back up with a sharp finger under his chin. “He’s just teasing.” she smiles up at him, warm brown eyes soft with affection as she pets through his hair.

*(Arabic: darling, dear, poppet, lamb)

“All right… so, um”, Jason starts, his mother moving to start up the fire in the large fireplace. “Tomorrow-”

His mother cuts him off before he even starts. “Close the window would you, Jay, it’s cold outside still.” Because the first day of spring was only yesterday, and Jason knows that somewhere out there, there’s still patches of ice and snow defrosting.

“Yes Mama”, he replies, and obediently moves to pull the window closed and latch it shut. “So, as you know, tomorrow is a very big day-”

“Jason, look in that mirror”, his grandfather cuts him off as he stands behind him in view of the delicately crafted object. “You know what I see?” he asks, but doesn’t seem to be looking for an answer from Jason himself.

“I see a strong, confident, handsome young man”, Ra's tells him, grinning at their reflection, and Jason smiles too, until- ”oh, look you’re here too”, he chuckles, clapping a hand over Jason’s shoulder, then moving away to take a seat on one of the lavishly furnished chairs.

Jason frowns, admittedly hurt by the egocentric remark, and turns his blue-grey eyes on his mother, who just sighs. “Don’t take it to heart habibi*, you know he only teases.”

*(Arabic: my dear)

The boy sighs back. “Yes Mama.” Talia goes back to fussing over the fire, and Jason tries to continue, “anyways, as I was trying to say before, tomorrow is-” only to be cut off again.

“Jason, please, I’m sure your Grandfather’s feeling a little run down after our trip,” Talia begins with a tired sigh, not looking up from where she keeps herself busy feeding and stoking the growing flame. “Why don’t you sing for him, Rayean? Then we can talk?” she asks almost apologetically.

And the boy knows that his mother must be exhausted from her long trip over the seas, but it still stings that Jason can’t even talk to her after she’s been gone for so long. Especially when he’s trying to talk to her regarding his birthday– which she missed last year because his Grandfather sent her away to do something that was apparently more important than him.

“Yes, Mama”, Jason replies obediently, plucking up one of his brushes from the low coffee table and sitting on the plush footstool in front of his Grandfather, handing the brush to the older man over his shoulder.

Ra’s hums in approval and Jason begins begrudgingly singing for him, watching in the mirror across the room as his Grandfather’s greying hair changes and becomes a thick, deep shade of brunette.

He watches as the wrinkles in his face smooth out into a youthful, soft skin; as his complexion grows brighter and his dull greyish-brown skin blooms with colour, becoming an even shade of golden tan. He watches as the fingers holding the large brush stop shaking, as they become firm and steady and more gentle in his glowing hair.

His mother finishes up with the fire and sighs as she sits back in the opposite chair, resting her feet up on Jason’s lap and smiling at him as he instinctively begins massaging her feet. They’re tense and Talia groans in pain when Jason presses his thumbs into the arches of her feet, causing him to wince and give her an apologetic look.

Talia’s eyes fall closed as Jason continues and he’s glad to see her relaxing, even in this short moment; she’s always so stressed about something or other, and Jason thinks she should just stay with him in the Tower and get some proper rest for once, let him look after her, instead of going away all the time.

When his Grandfather sets the brush down, Jason lets himself up, picking his mother’s feet up and gently placing them back down on the velvety footstool. He tucks the hair that’s fallen in front of her face behind her ear as he slips past her and into the kitchen.

He makes his Grandfather tea, knowing he’ll ask for it soon, and puts some of the cookies he’s made on a plate for his Mother. “So, Mama”, he starts as he re-enters the room and sets the tea and cookies down on the low table.

Talia, eyes still closed, hums in reply to let him know she’s listening.

“Earlier I was saying tomorrow’s a pretty big day… you see it’s going to be my birthday, y’know, and I-”

“No, no, no can’t be”, Ra’s cuts in with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I distinctly remember, your birthday was last year.”

Jason clenches his fists, biting down his frustration at being cut off again. “That’s the funny thing about birthdays. They’re kind of an annual thing.” he states, undertones of sarcasm sneaking into his words, and his grandfather raises a chastising eyebrow at him, challenging him to try taking that tone with him again.

Jason doesn’t take the bait and instead turns back to Talia. “Mother, I’m turning eighteen tomorrow, and I wanted to ask, what I really want for my birthday…” he starts

And that's all I have so far! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my terrible writing lmao. Let me know if you guys want more :)

[scourge-sympathiser]

wish i had any intrest in actually animating or making PMVz bcuz sure i hav soo many ideaz but i dont enjoy video editing so. eh

[seekerstone]

everyone else playing t0tk and probably having a great time while i’m busy being a hater . well what if i wrote a zenith+b0tw au. what then

[tame-the-lion-writes]

cat shifter reader x task force 141

(An AU to the AU--based on an ask and the results of this poll.)

No more guns a-blazing or cruel glory. The 141 had their time in the military; now, it was time to slow down.

Of course, when one sticks with the same people for half their life, through thick and thin, there is no going back. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb--and the 141 had spilled enough blood together that it practically ran through each others veins. They were inseparable, bound in both trauma and trust, and to part would dissolve the only stability they'd shared. Snip away red strings wrought both in shared drinks and on the battlefield.

What they didn't expect was the addition of you.

In deciding to retire, the 141 bought an old farm in the backcountry. A weary, rickety place that was practically begging for renovations. The busy work gave them something to do with already-rough hands, so they didn't mind--taking care of the animals, replacing the rotting wood, and updating the plumbing simply meant they could make the place their own. And after the house was fixed up, they got to updating the barn, fixing up a chicken coop, installing new fencing, etc.

It was also during these renovations that they got to know the stray cat who'd been living in the barn attic.

Feral--they first thought. Plenty of farm cats were, and the place had been long unlived-in that they believed no one could have socialized or cared for her. Not to mention that she'd been so riled up with them around; hissing from behind walls, or above while balancing on the beams. Jutting her paws out and trying to scratch them while they worked. They always knew where she was by the jingle of the bell around her neck, tied with a soft silk ribbon as though she were someone's pet let loose. Left on the roadside maybe, and for that, they didn't blame her.

But for the most part, she only occupied the second floor of the barn, and she kept the place free of rats and mice. They couldn't have those running around, so for the most part, they stayed out of her way. And she learned to stay out of theirs.

Until she got sick.

"Haven't seen the kit in a while," Gaz finally spoke, poking at the leftover stew in his bowl. It was already dinner when everyone was winding down for the night, and their beloved foe had been missing for three days. "I'm getting worried."

"I'm sure she's fine," Soap reassured him, shoveling another spoonful in his mouth. "Maybe ran off to the woods or somethin'."

"But it's been rainin' plenty lately," Gaz pressed. "You'd think she'd hole up in the attic per usual."

"We can check in the morning," Price sighed, adjusting himself in his seat. "'Sides, wouldn't do any good to be missin' a barn cat--"

"Tonight."

Soap lifts his head to squint over at the man by the sink. "Didn't take ya for a cat person, LT."

"Wanna make sure the mangy thing ain't dead." Ghost drops his dishes with an ceremonial clink-clink-clink. "Would stink up the place."

But when they finally made their way up the sketchy ladder to the barn attic, and they finally pushed aside all the dusty boxes and rusty equipment, what they found wasn't a cat but a young woman--face red with fever and tangled deeply, restlessly, in worn blankets and stolen clothes. Unknown and without ID--save for the bell around her neck, tied with a soft silk ribbon.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

It's quickly determined that you're only suffering from a regular cold, but on the verge of winter, the barn is no place to stay warm. Hence a quiet moment of deliberation between the boys, standing around, not knowing what to do. Also not knowing if their first assumption--that this is their fussy barn cat--is possible. In any case, they can't just leave you here.

Ghost is relegated the duty of carrying you down the very sketchy ladder (as he is with carrying most things). But not before Price wraps you up like a burrito, in case you wake up and decide to try and scratch again.

"'Mangy thing,' huh, LT?"

"Hope you know she's gettin' your bed."

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。PRINCESS — GETO SUGURU.

contents. non curse! au, dad! suguru, mom + fem! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” life with your daughters nanako and mimiko <3, embarrassingly self-indulgent once again

suguru is prideful—you have to hold back a giggle as he gives you a short glare, unwilling to back down.

“it looks good,” he grumbles. you’re not sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself. “it’s great. stop being a jerk. the girls worked hard.”

“of course,” you nod, biting back a grin, “you look lovely. your hair’s never been better.”

“i can hear the laughter in your voice,” he accuses.

“i’m not laughing!”

he raises a brow, and you can’t help it. you giggle. his hair is positively ruined—there are knots and tangles and clips everywhere. you don’t know where one nest of hair starts and where the other ends. everything is everywhere at once and suguru….well, suguru is trying to convince himself this is okay.

it’s for his girls, he reminds himself—anything for his girls.

“you just laughed,” he mutters, looking into the mirror. his eyes are alarmed, but for pride’s sake, he throws on a carefree look as he shrugs. “i look like their princess. they said so themselves.”

“well, i’ll give you a point for sweetest dad ever,” you hum, pulling out a loose clip. “but i deduct five points for falling asleep on watch duty.”

you come home from work and find a sleeping suguru at the foot of the couch with two toddlers hunched over his shoulders, working diligently at his hair. it’s cute—the way he looks as he sleeps peacefully, the way they look as they giggle and twist strands of dark hair with their small fingers. it’s heartwarming and makes you want to keep the moment frozen for just a bit longer.

but then you realize that irresponsibly, suguru has fallen asleep with two toddlers in the house—one of which (you eye a certain blonde) is a bit of a troublemaker.

“negative four?” he gasps, wounded.

“negative four,” you affirm, shaking your head in disappointment.

“i couldn’t help it,” he pouts, “it’s soothing having two sets of hands play with your hair.”

“well, good luck getting this mess out of your hair,” you chuckle, turning to step out of the bathroom—but suguru is quick. his hand snatches your wrist as soon as you take a step.

“hang on,” he tugs, pulling you back in, “you’ve gotta help me with this.”

“i thought you said it was fine,” you raise a brow, “it shouldn’t be much trouble.”

“i haven’t see you all day,” he insists, “can’t i have a relaxing shower with my wife as she washes my hair?”

“i showered this morning. see you after yours though—”

“okay fine,” he deflates, rolling his eyes as he looks off to the side, “this is….gonna take a while to fix.”

you grin victoriously. suguru grumbles under his breath.

“alright,” you poke his cheek with a satisfied smirk, “i’ll help you. if you say pretty please.”

——————

“daddy you changed your hair,” nanako whines in despair as soon as suguru steps out of the bathroom. you stifle a giggle as he looks down at her in alarm.

“sweetheart, daddy just had to shower and—”

“maybe he didn’t like it,” mimiko mumbles quietly from the side. her voice is glum—and like the doting mother you are, your smile drops as you feel your heart ache.

“what? that’s not true!” suguru sputters, “i loved it! mommy loved it too, right?”

the two girls turn to look at you—and because you have long realized that motherhood is the gracefulness of putting your children’s feelings above all else, even if it means lying straight through your teeth, you nod with exaggerated vigor.

“of course!” you say enthusiastically, “it was so unique! i’ve never seen daddy look so….pretty.”

suguru shoots you an unimpressed look as you bite your lip in amusement.

“he was a princess!” nanako brightens, a happy smile erupting over her lips. suguru grins as he melts, pinching the soft flesh of her cheek gently with a low hum.

“i was,” he nods, “wasn’t i beautiful?”

“oh, yeah,” you snort, “way too beautiful—you might dethrone me.”

“mommy we can make you a princess too—”

“who wants dinner?” you cut mimiko off quickly, smiling through the panic, “i bet everyone’s hungry!”

“me!” nanako raises her hand enthusiastically and you sigh in relief—crisis successfully averted. but only for now, you suppose. the devious look suguru gives you tells you this won’t be the last time the suggestion is offered to you.

“what a shame,” suguru sighs dramatically, “i wanted to see you all dolled up. maybe next time.”

and then he reaches down and pulls both girls into his arms, filling the room with giggles as he nibbles on their cheeks affectionately and saunters off to the dinner table. you can’t help but smile softly as you watch his retreating figure—suguru was made for fatherhood, you think, he fills the role so effortlessly.

and then….you hear a thump and a hissed curse under his breath in the distance.

“mommy, daddy said a bad word!” nanako calls, earning a panicked no i didn’t! from your husband. “now he’s lying,” she adds.

well….no one said he was perfect.

i just know nanako is simultaneously a daddy’s girl who also rats him out and tattles 24/7 bc she thinks it’s funny when he gets in trouble

[straylightdream]

dancing with our hands tied

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: boss!choi seungcheol x employee!f.reader

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it. I had a bad feeling, and darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, secret lovers, office romance

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lots of tension, smut warning below.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

𝐚𝐧: inspired by the Taylor swift song of the same name. I might make a loose connecting series to this with other seventeen boys. Let me know if you’re interested in any other boys stories mentioned in this. You can also fill out this form helping me pick songs for the other boys.

here is my SVT taglist if you’re interested being add please fill out this form.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞��𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex (reader is on birth control), dirty talk, oral male receiving, big dick cheol, size kink (cheol is big and the mc loves how it feels), nicknames: baby (mc’s), sir (his)

From the moment you met Seungcheol you knew you were in trouble. You both worked for a big tech company in the city. When you first started working there Seungcheol didn’t have the huge promotion he had now. He ran a small department that you technically weren’t a part of when you started what was supposed to be a little fling. Fast forward to three months later and Seungcheol is in charge of fifty percent of the company. You originally tried to end your secret relationship but he swore nothing could happen if you stayed together. It had been ten months and your secret romance was still going strong.

Walking into his office you closed and locked the door behind you. The moment the door locked he pushed up his glasses and closed his laptop. The smirk that plays across his lips is enough to make you weak. A few times you’ve you been bold enough to crawl under his desk and give him head, but that wasn’t your plan today.

“Yes, (Y/N)?” You love when he tries to act professional when he speaks to you at work. Silently you walk over sitting the paper work on his desk.

“What time are you leaving the office tonight?” If you don’t ask him you know he’ll stay late at work like he always does.

“According to Soonyoung I have to go to the office party tonight so I have to leave at a reasonable time.”

“I guess I should probably go.” You actually didn’t want to go. You originally planned on staying home but Seungcheol has been bugging you for the last week to go.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says smirking.

“Do you think it’s a good idea we go together?”

“Yes.” He stands up walking around his desk. You turn around so you’re leaning against his desk. “The door is locked right?” He leans in closer as your lips brush. Silently you nod. His hands grip your hips helping you sit on the edge of his desk. He stands between your parted thighs. Tangling your fingers in his hair while your lips move together for a heated kiss. His strong hands grip your hips grinding against your parted legs.

“I want to fuck you so badly right,” he moans against your lips.

“You should wait to do it when we’re not in the office,” you pull back smiling at him.

A large hand rests on your cheek as he tilts your head back. “Is this your way of teasing me?”

“No sir, but I think it’s best for my job if I don’t fuck my boss at work,” you gently push on his chest getting him to step backwards. The look on his face lets you know you’re in trouble once you’re fully alone tonight.

“I’m not your boss, technically Jeonghan is in charge of you,” he always tries to remind you of this. Him and Jeonghan have the same position, but Jeonghan is in charge of your division that’s in his part of the company.

Pushing yourself off the desk you walk past him. Before you could leave his office he grabs your wrist stopping you in your tracks. “By the end of the night I’m going to have you screaming my name.”

-

Work parties always tended to be a little crazy But when Soonyoung and Joshua are put in charge of planning the parties they tend to get wild. They have a knack for hosting parties filled with people you’ve never even seen at the office.

You were walking closely with Seungcheol. Your hands brushing as you walked through the crowded club that was in a fancy hotel. With the small touch of his hand brushing yours you felt electricity run through your veins. Glancing over at him you see him wearing a smirk looking in your direction.

There was something thrilling about being in public with your secret lover. Nobody knew what you did behind closed doors. You made the choice to keep your relationship secret because Seungcheol and you didn’t want your friends questioning what was going on. Technically you could get in trouble at work since he was your boss.

You normally never went to anything work related with him, but he practically begged you to go to this one. When Joshua mentioned throwing a huge company party at this fancy hotel you originally didn’t even plan on going. Seungcheol somehow sweet talked you into not only going but riding with him. He swore to you nobody would know you were together. That you could come to the party as his friend. Everyone at work knew you were friends before he received his huge promotion. Everyone always joked that once Seungcheol was promoted he would become completely different, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s still the same kind hearted goofy guy you met the first day at the office. He just has a lot more money now.

You were standing by the window on the balcony talking to Minghao about your job. He worked in a different division of the company. You became friends through Mingyu who you have both worked with. Minghao was asking you tons of questions about your new position that you had been promoted to recently. Minghao has always been interested in knowing more about you.

“I’m gonna go find Cheol,” you say to Minghao before heading inside.

You make your way through the crowded room looking for your secret lover. You glanced around and found him standing at the bar talking to Wonwoo with a huge smile on his face. You stared for a long moment before his dark eyes locked on to yours. He bit his bottom and stared at you as you walked towards the dance floor.

The feeling of his dark eyes burning into your back couldn’t be missed as you walked through the crowd. You found a couple of the girls who you’ve met before these parties. Most of them work with Minghao. You all started dancing together along to the beat. The music easily melts away your worries as you’re lost in the sound. Swaying your hips to the beat and you smiled singing along with some of the girls. You of the girls called cheers as one of them walked over with shots to pass around. You took the shot glass filled with gold liquid and looked over your shoulder to find Seungcheol eyes still locked on you.

“Cheers,” you all shouted as you knocked back the shots.

“So are you and Cheol finally together?” The blonde who seemed very interested in Wonwoo asked, taking the shot glass from your hand.

You looked at her for a long moment trying to figure out if you should lie and say no or come clean. Seungcheol and you had been living in the bubble and you figured the less people that knew the better.

“Nope were really good friends,” you lied because for some reason it felt like the safest bet.

“Well if you guys ever do get together I think you would make a cute couple,” she smiled before walking away.

You glanced back at Seungcheol to see that he was attempting to make conversation with Wonwoo while staring at you. You started swaying your hips to the beat again.

You felt as if you once again got lost in the music and next thing you knew you were being tapped on the shoulder by Cheol who had walked over and joined the group with Minghao and Soonyoung. The beat of the music picked up and everyone was dancing and having fun. Seungcheol kept his distance from you, dancing and having fun with the group. Even though you were like five feet apart you could still feel your connection as he kept looking at you. Even in a crowded room he seemed to only see you.

Pretty soon another round of shots were being passed around. This time with a clear liquid. You bit your bottom lip and held the glass up to cheers with the rest of the group. Seungcheol nodded his head to you before taking the shot.

The dance floor had seemed to get more crowded and your group was forced to dance closer together. Soon enough you were swaying to the beat of the music with Seungcheol less than a foot from you.

Both your eyes were filled with lust as you moved to the beat. It’s as if you were dancing with your hands tied trying not to touch. You couldn’t let people know that you were together. You wanted nothing more in that moment to just hold his hand or to even just touch him how you have been dying to touch him.

You turned your body around and started moving your butt against him. At that moment you didn’t care who saw. His large hand brushed against your hip sending a shiver down your spine.

“I need more alcohol,” you said as you turned around to face him.

He moved his face closer to yours and whispered into your ear, “let’s get drinks.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder and led you off the dance floor towards the bar. You felt like everyone was staring at you, even though you knew you were probably just being paranoid.

“Do you think people know?” You asked, leaning against the bar.

He shrugged his shoulders, “at this point I don’t care.”

“But you’re my boss?”

He shrugs his shoulders as he waves down the bartender ordering you each a drink. “Technically I’m a boss. I’m not directly your boss. That would be Jeonghan.”

The two drinks are placed in front of you. You stare at the dark liquid before glancing up at Seungcheol who is watching you carefully. You waste no time drinking half the strong liquor.

“I don’t like this being a secret,” you sigh.

He gives you a sad smile before quickly drinking his dark liquor. “It doesn’t have to be a secret.”

You bit your lip wondering if it was worth keeping this relationship hidden from the world. It has been the best ten months of your life. But you want to be able to proudly walk around with the man you’re in love with.

“Let’s go up to the room I booked,” he leaned over and whispered into your ear.

“People are gonna notice us leaving,” you sighed as he traced his finger up and down your arm.

“At this point babe I want people to know you’re mine,” he whispered in your ear.

A shiver went down your spine as you stared at him. He looked at you in that moment as if you were his whole entire world. You wanted nothing more in that moment to steal a kiss from him.

“Let’s go,” reaching down and lacing your fingers together.

You moved through the crowded room towards the elevator. Looking over at him he smiled and pulled your hands close to him.

You hadn’t done anything more than just hold hands walking through the room but you knew your secret was now out. People would now know you were together. People would officially know you’re sleeping with one of the bosses. But the thing is you don’t care. People can gossip all they want. It doesn’t matter because you’re happy.

He held your hand tight while you waited for the elevator. He held your hand as if he was afraid that you would disappear if he let go. You stepped out into the hallway and you gave him a smile. You looked out into the crowd and found Jeonghan smiling as if he was proud to see you together. As the doors closed he leaned over and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips. You leaned into his chest feeling safe with him. Your secret was officially out.

The doors to the elevator opened and he laced his fingers with yours and led you into the hallway at a hurried pace. You could tell he was ready to get you into his room. He flung the door open and wasted no time pressing you against the wall. Your lips are roughly connected. He held onto your face as your lips danced. His lips pulled away from yours giving you a moment to breathe. Your lusted filled eyes stayed locked onto his as he moved his largest hands from your face down to your shoulders. You stood in silence for a long moment before he slowly started to pull the straps of your dress down your shoulders. You bit your bottom lip as he slid the dress off you. His eyes looked like he was intoxicated by the sight of you.

As the dress you had been wearing fell off you and pooled in a circle around your feet. You wore nothing but a pale rose colored bra and a pair of cheeky panties. Slowly you reached between the two of you to start unbuttoning his dress shirt. He took your cue and quickly got out of his dress shirt. You reached between you and worked on getting his pants unbuckled.

Quickly he undid his pants and stood there in him his boxers and a grin on his face. Roughly he connected his lips to yours. Wrapping your arms around him you pulled him in close to you. His rough hands gripped your hips as your lips moved together.

Large hands roamed your back as he moved them towards your bra. With little effort he unclasped your bra letting it fall to the floor. Pulling his lips away from yours he started kissing your neck while his hands moved up and start massaging your breast. Leaning your head back against the wall you can’t help but moan, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your body. No matter how many times you do this he makes you fall apart effortlessly.

He moved his lips across your skin as you tangled yours fingers in his long hair. His lips moved lower and lower as he sunk down onto his knees in front of you. He placed a trail of kissed from your breast down to the top of your panties. He looked up at you with hungry eyes as he licked his lips slowly. His large hands slowly gripped the top of your panties and slowly pulled them down. Stepping out of them you stood completely naked in front of him while he sat on his knees looking like he was ready to eat you alive.

“Why am I the only naked one here?” You asked grinning. You love these little moments you get to tease him.

Silently he stood up and made quick work of taking his boxers off. He stood there naked and proud with his erection point straight at you. Biting your lip you sank down onto your knees in front of him. Reaching up and slowly stroking his already hardened erection. Leaning forward you slowly licked the tip. In the ten months you’ve been together you’ve learned all the ways to make him fall apart, just like he knows every way to make you scream. The faint gasp passed his lips is enough to make you wet. Your tongue moved down his length and he tangled his fingers in your hair. Taking him in your mouth you slowly bobbed your head taking in his large dick as much as you could. Seungcheol is the biggest dick you’ve ever had. The first time you hooked up you weren’t even sure he would fit inside you.

He kept moaning your name letting you know that you’re doing a good job. You release him with a pop and lick along his length again your tongue brushes the prominent vein that runs along the side of his cock. Bobbing your head again, taking in his length as you worked your hands at his base. A mixture of moans and whimpers keep passing his lips.

You’re caught off guard when he pulls your hair lightly.“Baby I don’t wanna finish in your mouth,” he looked down at you dazed, and on the brink of falling apart.

He pulled you to your feet and connected his lips to yours roughly. Your back was against the wall within moments. Roughly he lifted you up so you was pressed against the wall. You pulled your lips away from his biting on his bottom lip. He grinned and reached between you and lined his erection up with your entrance.

A loud gasp passed your lips as he thrust into you never giving you a chance to adjust to his size. Wrapping your arms around him as he thrust into you over and over again. Rolling your head back and resting it against the wall as you moaned.

“Fuck- you’re so big,” you moan.

“Sorry baby-“ he pauses like he’s trying to calm down. “I should have gone slower.”

“Fuck- it’s fine. Please keep moving,” you beg.

Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of him stretching you over and over again. His hands roughly held your ass bringing you towards him with every thrust. “Oh my god,” a loud moan passes your lips. You aren’t sure if you’re even able to coherently speak. He’s left you practically brain dead with how good he’s fucking you. You’ll never get over the feeling of how big he is and how good it feels when he stretches you out.

“I'm a close baby,” he groaned.

He pressed you against the wall a little harder and started thrusting a little rougher. He’s not normally this rough but you won’t complain. You’re so cock drunk and lust filled he could practically do anything to you and you would beg for more.

“Cheol,” you moaned as your walls tightened around him. You fall apart quickly and you practically black out with how hard your orgasm hits you.

He got one more thrust in before he moaned your name loudly. You wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of the party heard you even from the bottom floor.

“So I think people know we’re together now,” you said softly as he slowly sat you down. Your legs felt like jello and leaned against him for support.

“Good I don’t wanna hide you anymore,” he said, wrapping his arms around you. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact you weren’t hiding anymore.

[shmalk]

Could you write the second half of what happens after price shoots immortal!reader? I love this idea, it makes me think of the Old Guard on netflix :D

you're dead.

that's the only thing any of them think, all of them shocked as they watch price holster his weapon and lean back against the post. he checks his watch, one that was practically glued to the inside of his wrist, and takes a puff of his cigar.

its almost a minute before any of them move - and gaz is first, throwing himself onto the ground beside you, pulling you into his arms and trying to pick you up off the ground.

there's too much blood, and he can't seem to lift you - were you always that heavy?

soap is slow, stuttering his feet until he reaches gaz, glancing down at the scene. your hair is mattered and tangled, covered in dust and now your own blood. your eyes are wide open and holding contact with the sky, no sneaking glances towards him or even a slight wink - you're dead.

simon is the only one who focuses on price - storming his way up to him, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off the ground. he's confused, scared, for once, he doesn't know anything. did you betray them? did price?

despite knowing the inner turmoil inside his task force's head, price can't help but bark out a laugh, patting on ghost's hands to get the man to drop him.

soap retreats at that, joining ghost as the two of them demand answers - all but promising to take him into the interrogation room and demand he tell the truth.

gaz has to step away to vomit, your blood is warm and it's dripping - but he can feel it moving, he knows its not real and he's imagining it, hoping you'll turn to face him and scream about it being a prank. but you wont - you're dead.

only, you're not dead, and you can't help but groan as your eyes come back into focus, your arms feel like led - but you're able to lift one to cover your eyes from staring up at the sun.

you cough a few times, and push yourself up onto your elbow. you hate getting shot, it was a horrible feeling and you never liked loosing that much blood - but price had done it once (after you'd all but demanded he do it) and now he liked the shock factor.

glancing around, you take note of ghost, holding price by his shirt against a pole, and soap holding a large metal pole, threating to beat him over the head. all of three of them have turned to stare at you as you rise from the dead.

gaz is beside you, frozen in place in the middle of wiping his face free from bile.

"sorry for getting shot in the head, you guys."

a few people asked for a continuation !! sorry if this isn't the best, had a long day at work today and the weather in aus is c r az y !!

[changbunnies]

Danse Macabre (18+)

♡ Pairing: Rich Serial Killer!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: loosely house on haunted hill inspired, vaguely 1950s au, horror themes, dark romance, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 3.9k

♡ Summary: The handsomely wealthy Christopher Bang and his wife are holding an overnight party at the house on Haunted Hill, and the rules are simple– stay the entire night, and $100,000 is their guest's to take; but little do the guests know that their hosts don't intend to let them leave.

♡ General Warnings: this is a serial killer au! do not read if you aren't prepared to read about death + murder + blood + injury! (i personally think i kept the descriptions tame and mild but everyone has different opinions so just use ur discretion and don't interact if you think you may be bothered by anything listed !), chan is referred to as chris, reader is very complicit in his crimes, they're a sick and twisted couple i fear!

♡ Smut Warnings: hybristophilia (i.e chan being a killer turns reader on), smut begins with chan talking about killing reader (intended to be strictly roleplay because he knows it excites them, but ur free to read it as him being serious if ur freaky like that lol), heavy usage of pet names (darling, my love, princess, sweetheart, dear), dom/sub dynamics, rough and a lil mean dom!chan, big dick chan because it's hot!, hair pulling, knife kink (but without a knife actually being used), corruption kink (not in the traditional way), tiny bit of nipple play, oral (m rec), facefucking, choking (on cock :) ), dacryphilia, manhandling, mirror sex, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: welcome to the first of my late kinktober fics ! this fic is loosely inspired by the opening scenes of the 1959 house on haunted hill movie, which is why the setting is vaguely 1950s!, this is the darkest fic i've tried my hand at writing, but i'm also a very big horror fan so writing this was very fun for me even tho it's not the genre i typically write for!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Darling, the guests are arriving. You must get ready," your husband, Christopher, emphasizes as he steps into the master bedroom you'll be occupying for the evening.

You're sitting at the room's vanity, all of your hair pulled to one side as you finish drying it after your long, relaxing bath. The scent of lavender bath oil and citrus shampoo linger over you– scents brought with you from home because you absolutely refuse to use the luxurious room's complimentary soap; no offense intended to the housekeepers who provided it, of course.

You look sweet as ever in your dainty little pastel blue babydoll gown, your robe delicate and sheer, hanging down off your shoulder and bunching at your elbows. You glance at Chris through the vanity mirror as you begin to comb your hair and free it of any leftover tangles, meeting his gaze with a smile.

"What's the rush, my love? Is it not customary to be late to a party?" Chris chuckles as he steps closer, runs his hand over your shoulder and down your spine as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. "Normally I'd agree with you. But this is your party, princess. You should greet your guests."

He's right, of course– today is your birthday, and he booked the entire mansion, as well as invited all the guests, at your behest. Christopher is the old money sort– a millionaire from a long line of millionaires before him. And because of that, your party comes with a fun gimmick– survive a night in the haunted mansion, and earn an easy hundred thousand dollars.

Assuming each guest successfully lasts until dawn, that's $700,000 for your husband to pay out– but that's no worry! That's still only chump change to a man as wealthy as Chris– and besides all that, no one's going to last until morning anyways; you're certain of that.

Naturally, as having a haunted house party was your idea, the venue was your choice– and the eerie mansion that sits lonesome upon Haunted Hill was the perfect pick. You've always found it strikingly beautiful from the outside, dreamed of one day stepping inside and drinking in all its Victorian charm.

It's certainly lived up to your expectations– and you're sure Chris will buy it for you if you express to him just how much you adore it; he'd buy you the entire world if you asked him to. For now, it's good enough that he rented it out for your sinister party.

You doubt the mansion is actually haunted– you don't put much stock in the stories of ghosts and ghouls that gave this hill its nickname; but it's a fun little tale, and you don't mind playing into it for the sake of a fun time. And it certainly helps make your party's tag line of "survive the night!" more inconspicuous.

"They're all strangers, sweetheart– I don't think they'll mind if I'm a little late," you tell him with a coy little smile as you set your comb back down on the vanity, satisfied with the condition of your freshly washed hair. He returns your smile with a mischievous one of his own, an amused glint in his eye.

"And remind me, darling, why it is that we've rented this house and invited a bunch of strangers to your party," Chris says as he leans down further, his breath fanning your ear. You giggle, almost innocently– though both of you know you're more than just complicit in his endeavors; you actively fuel them, his sadistic princess.

"You know why, my love," you reply, and to anyone else your smile would seem pure, almost angelic– but Christopher knows better. He knows that his kills excite you– perhaps even more than they excite him. He grabs a fist full of your freshly tamed hair, grins at the gasp you let out when he pulls your head back.

"And this is really what you want for your birthday? To see me stick my knife into someone's neck? To have me return to this room covered head to toe in their blood?" he questions as he looms over you now, but the answer is clear as it always is. He sees the way your thighs squeeze together, sees how the desire darkens your eyes– you’re sick; but that’s what he loves most about you.

"I could kill you too, you know. Take my knife right along your skin, just like this," he says as he runs a finger over one side of your neck to the other, gentle but purposeful in demonstration. Your breath hitches as you squirm in your seat, unable to turn your eyes away from him as he tightens the grip on your hair.

"But you wouldn't," you breathe, and Chris smiles, sweet and sinister as his eyes narrow at you, just how you like it. "Are you certain, dear? Do you think me incapable?" 

"I think you love me, as I love you," you answer, eyes starting to water from the sting of his tug on your scalp. "I love that you trust me," he replies as he trails his finger down, over your collarbones and to your chest. His fingers play with the dainty lace of your gown for just a moment before he slides his hand inside, cupping your breast in his large palm.

"I bet you wouldn't even bat a lid if I touched you with my knife here," he continues as he brushes his thumb over your hardening nipple, "you'd actually like it, wouldn't you, my love? Feeling the cold steel here, knowing I could easily cut you if I wanted to?" You whine, try to nod your head though his grip prevents it– all you can do is answer with a meek "yes" instead. 

"Speak up, darling. I'm afraid I couldn't hear you," he says with an expectant look that sends a shiver down your spine. Chris indulges your every desire, gives you everything in the world you want– so in the moments like these, in which when he asks something of you, you listen.

"Yes! I'd like it!" you answer, as loud and clear as you can bring your voice to be. Chris smiles, the sweet one he always gives you when you listen to him well, with his handsome dimples on display– a stark contrast from the darkness in his gaze. He releases his grip on your hair, cups your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you, greedy and deep. 

You always manage to get him hot; all it takes is a few simple words and that sweet gaze of yours to get him worked up– always the picture perfect image of innocence, pretty smiles and soft gazes that hide the depravity lingering beneath. So coy and demure, batting your lashes and acting like you don’t know at all what he does in the dead of night, acting like it doesn’t make your stomach twist– not with fear, but with desire.

Chris always sees through your act– he knows you. But he won’t pretend he doesn’t like it– the fun little game you share, where you gasp in faux surprise when he enters the room drenched in a new victim's blood, where your voice trembles and eyes well with tears when he grabs you hard, kisses you deep as the blood coating him transfers to your skin, sharing it with you.

And your answer now– whether it’s part of the game, or you truly would like feeling his knife cutting your pristine, unsullied skin, it doesn’t matter. He meant it when he said he loves that you trust him; and he loves that you wanted this. That all you wanted for your birthday was this party– to see him at his most unleashed, to indulge in the most sinful fun you could share as a couple. 

You never say what he is out loud– don’t call him a monster, a murderer, or a killer. You always dance around it, play innocent, though it’s obvious enough that you know the truth; and that’s more than enough for Chris. In fact, he prefers it this way; he likes to pretend he’s ruining your innocence, likes to pretend he’s a corrupting influence in your pure, perfect world, likes to pretend he’s ruining you.

Maybe in a way, he is– maybe you were a good girl before you found out his secret, maybe catching him in the act changed you, and maybe he’s dragging you down to hell with him by sharing this part of his life with you. Regardless, he loves what you have together– and he’ll keep playing this dangerous game with you, even if it ends in both your demise.

You melt into his kiss, as you always do– his lips, so plump and soft, always feel so perfect when they’re pressed against yours. You open your mouth for him the moment you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and he hums pleasantly as he slips his tongue in your mouth. It’s not the most slow or sensual kiss you’ve ever shared– rather, it’s needy, passionate and urgent.

Chris smiles at you again when he pulls away, enjoying the sparkle beholden in your eyes as you stare up at him. “Open your mouth for me, darling,” he says as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You do as instructed, the obedient thing you are for him, and he grins as he sticks his thumb inside your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it after he rests it against your tongue. “Oh, my love– you already knew what to do, didn’t you? Always know just what I want, yeah?” You hum as you nod, staring up at him oh so enticing and pretty. “You’ll suck my cock just like that, won’t you?” he continues, biting his lip to suppress a laugh when you eagerly nod and hum once more.

He removes his thumb from your mouth with a pop, hurries with undoing his belt and pulling his cock out of his trousers. His cock is mesmerizing, as always– so long and thick, with pretty veins and a leaking tip; but you aren’t given any time to idly sit and admire it. He wraps your hair around his fist, forces you to take his cock in your mouth all at once.

You choke and sputter as his cock presses against the back of your throat, your nose meeting his pubic bone in a flash, the neatly trimmed hair there tickling your skin. You can’t pull your head back with his grip forcing you down– but you wouldn’t dream of trying anyways; this is what he wants, and he'll have it.

Eyes watering, you do your best to relax your jaw and throat, to suck him just the way he likes, with your tongue massaging his veins. It’s a struggle to breathe through your nose, unprepared for his cock as you were– and it’s not until your eyes are dimming and head is swimming from the lack of oxygen that he pulls you back to let you take a breath.

It’s harsh, lungs positively burning as you take deep, heaving breaths. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Was that too much for you?” he asks, but his tone lacks its usual sincerity. “Chris–” you cry his name weakly after taking another breath, a few of the stray tears lingering on your lids finally spilling over as you blink. 

“My dear,” he cuts you off, forcing his cock past your lips once more, using the leverage of his grip on your hair to once again push your head down on him, making you take his length into your mouth until you choke on it.

“You weren’t going to complain, were you? No, I know you wouldn’t do that,” he says, voice wavering ever so slightly, breathier from the pleasure your mouth gives him. “Because I give you everything you want. Everything I do is for you– so you’ll let me use you, yeah?”

He’s right again, of course– you wouldn’t dream of complaining, of depriving him of what he wants from you. And you both know this is far from the limit of what you can take, but as with everything else, he likes when you pretend for him. When you cry and weakly try to protest, half hearted utterances of “too much!” or “I can't!” as tears roll down your cheeks– an act that always leaves him throbbing.

And Chris is good to you, always puts the entire world in the palm of your hands– so just as he says, you’ll thank him by letting him use you however he wants. You can’t nod your head, and any word you try to speak would be muffled and indecipherable– so you allow your jaw to go slack to show him you understand.

“Good, just like that,” he says as you lay your tongue flat, his praise a small kindness before he really lets loose. He easily controls your pace, yanks your hair back until only the tip of his cock remains in your mouth before shoving you back down to the base of it.

You try not to gag and choke, but most attempts go unsuccessful, more tears spilling from your eyes and drool spilling from the corners of your mouth with each full press of his length in your mouth. You can’t even feel the sting on your scalp anymore– all you can focus on is trying to breathe while he uses your mouth.

But all you can breathe is Chris, and he’s unforgiving in the way he moves you on his cock. You jaw quickly begins to ache, and every low groan that he releases is drowned out by the filthy sounds your mouth and throat create as you swallow around his cock.

He doesn’t let up until your vision darkens and blurs again, your nails digging into your own thighs as you try to hold out as long as possible. You gasp when he pulls you off his cock, heart pounding in your chest as the much needed air finally returns to your lungs.

You look up at Chris as he releases his grip on your hair, eyes lidded and hazy. He’s made a real mess of you– from the way his fingers have tousled your hair, to your freshly swollen lips, to the saliva that dripped down from your mouth to your chest. It’s pretty, really– so, so pretty; he almost wants to coo at you.

Instead, he strokes your cheek, offers you a look of faux sympathy– and you’re much too addled to realize he doesn’t mean it. You take the affection regardless of his intent, close your eyes and lean into his touch. You can hear him softly laugh, can easily imagine that smirk he must have on his face right now. 

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Chris reminds you as he takes his hand away from your face. He grabs your arm, lifts you up from your chair and quickly turns you around, shoving everything resting on the vanity aside before he’s bending you over it. Your yelp of surprise is weak considering the abuse your throat just suffered, your hands lying flat as he presses you down against the hardwood. 

Your face smushes against the mirror, and how cold it is in contrast to how hot your face has become nearly makes you jolt. He shoves your panties to the side easily with his fingers, and you can hear him chuckle when you impatiently begin to squirm as he presses his cock against your dripping hole.

“Princess– stay still,” he says, and you can tell from his tone alone that it’s much more a demand than it is a request. You mutter a soft apology as you still your hips, and he waits a moment– waits to see if you’re going to move again before he acts. 

“Please,” you whine, make your desire to have his cock filling you up known, but ultimately don’t move. With a satisfied grin that you can just barely see on his face from your position against the mirror, he slowly, finally, starts to press his length inside your pussy.

He brings his hands to your hips, holds you as you begin to tremble from the feeling of his cock stretching you out. He doesn’t give you time to adjust– just squeezes your hips in his hands as he starts to fuck you from behind. “Oh, Chris– fuck,” you gasp, though it quickly becomes a moan. 

His cock feels so deep in this position, and it has your eyes rolling back with each motion of his hips into yours. “You’re so fucking wet, fuck–” he groans, his hands gripping you harder as he finds his rhythm. “Squeezing so tight– feels good, huh, princess? You like it when I fuck you like this?” 

“Yes, love it! Love you, love your cock, feels so good–” You cry, high pitched whimpers leaving you now as you try to nod your head, though its position against the mirror doesn’t make it easy. Chris groans again before he moves a hand to your hand, threads his fingers through your hair again to pull you back against him.

You reach backwards to support yourself, one of your hands clinging to his shirt while the other holds him behind the neck. “Look at yourself, darling. Look,” he says against your ear, and you focus your eyes on the mirror. You look at Chris through it first, take in the sight of the sweat dripping down his temple and the clench in his jaw as he fucks you. 

Your eyes travel down, met with the sight of your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts, threatening to spill out of your babydoll gown. Lower still, you watch as he takes his other hand off your hip, slides it past the hem of your gown to find your clit with his fingers. “Want you to watch yourself cum. Don’t stop looking,” he tells you, and you whine– it won’t be easy, but you’ll listen; you always do. 

He lets go of your hair, and is quick to wrap his arm around your body so that you don’t fall too far forward. You’re so wet that his fingers quickly become slick, and it makes his touch lack friction as they slide messily over your clit, but the feeling is still so delicious that you can’t complain. 

It’s so hard to maintain eye contact with your reflection, hard to prevent your eyes from rolling back whenever he hits your spot with his cock while playing with your clit, but you keep doing your best for him. He can feel you clenching harder as you continue to watch yourself unravel, feels your nails starting to dig into where they hold his neck.

“C’mon, love– cum for me, you can do it sweetheart,” Chris urges you, his voice soft and low in your ear. “I will! ‘m gonna– gonna cum for you!” you cry; and though you’d been doing so well, you can’t help but let your eyes roll back and close as you finally let go and gush on his cock. If it were a different day, he might scold you for not keeping your eyes open like he told you to– but it is your birthday today, so he’ll let it pass just this once. 

He pushes you back down onto the vanity as you ride out the last of your orgasm, face once again smushing against the mirror as he grabs your hands and holds them behind your back at the wrists, fucks you rough and deep as he chases his own release. You whimper and tremble, unable to escape the sensitivity you feel, or able to grip anything to ground yourself– all you can do is take it. 

“Can’t! Chris, please– I can't, t-too much, too much!” your voice warbles as you cry, the pleasure you feel overwhelming. “Yes you can,” he says as you writhe helplessly in his grasp, your fingers clenching into desperate fists where he holds them against your back. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You’re going to cum again, you know it– he doesn’t even have to touch your clit again to get you there, because the tip of his cock is kissing your spot so good that you’re seeing stars. You’re panting hard, your every breath fogging the mirror, your nails digging into your palms as Chris’ name leaves you in desperate, broken syllables. 

It’s not until you’re finished cumming around him for a second time that his pace finally begins to falter– he lets go of your wrists, squeezes your hips in his hands and thrusts once, twice more before his own high takes him. You whine as you feel his cum spurt deep inside, hot and sticky, leaving you perfectly full.

Chris takes just a moment to steady his breathing before he’s slipping out of you, hurrying to reach to the ground for the tissue box he previously knocked off the vanity. He grabs a tissue, cleans between your legs as gently as he can, though you still end up flinching just a bit.

He then readjusts your panties so they rest on you properly again, and helps you settle back into the vanity’s chair. He kisses you after tucking his softening length back in his trousers, glances in the mirror to make sure nothing else about his appearance is out of place before he has to return to your party.

“Was it good?” you ask earnestly as you look up at him, and he smiles at you, stroking your head sweetly. “Of course, my darling. You’re perfect, as always,” he tells you, and you beam, turning your head to kiss his hand before he takes it away. He glances over at the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room, laughs in disbelief when he notes the time. 

“Gosh, it’s almost midnight– we really must hurry,” he says, and you giggle, truly without a care in the world that you’ve kept your guests waiting. You turn back to vanity, pout as you take in your appearance– you were too far gone from lust to really realize just how debauched Chris made you, but now you truly see just how much you have to fix. 

“Christopher! You’ve ruined me!” you complain before looking around the floor for your comb. “Apologies, princess,” he chuckles, leaning down to pick up your comb for you once you’ve spotted it. He hands it to you, but doesn’t completely release his grip to let you take it until after you kiss him in thanks.

“Now then– I’ve got to go entertain our guests. But hurry, won’t you, darling? I wouldn’t want to start the real fun without you,” Chris says as he rests his hand on the knob of the bedroom door, and you smile as you look at him through the mirror, making quick work of fixing your hair. 

“Of course, my love. I wouldn’t miss my party for the world,” you tell him; and despite what he said, it’s not long until you hear the first shrill scream of the night. Dressed in your prettiest red dress and heels, you peek your head out of the bedroom door– and Chris stands there, knife in hand with blood speckled over his face.

“Sorry darling, didn’t have a choice,” he explains, and you giggle as you fully step out of the room, carefully stepping over the blood that decorates the floor to kiss him before shooing him away to continue. Your birthday party has fully kicked off now– and it’ll certainly be one to remember.

[covenofagatha]

My Fair Lady

You finally convince your girlfriend, Agatha, to attend the annual Westview fair with you and things end up leading to a roll in the hay(ride), non-magic AU

Word count: ~3000

Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, mommy kink

It’s a beautiful day in Westview when the annual fair takes place, an autumn breeze chilling the air and the smell of pumpkins and cinnamon hanging over. It’s your favorite event of the year: hayrides, pumpkin carvings, face painting stations, bobbing for apples, and even more. The fair is always two weeks before Halloween and everyone in the town turns up.

Which is exactly what you told your girlfriend,  Agatha, to try to get her to go with you. She had never attended one, even though she had lived in Westview for almost ten years, and you were determined to get her to come this year. When you had first mentioned it, she slumped lower into the couch, lips tight. The older woman could be such a drama queen sometimes. She’d love to go, she insisted, but she would be forced to see all the people in the town she didn’t like and that was not a fun way to spend a weekend, when instead, she could spend it with you in bed. She had then pulled you onto her lap and fucked you so well you forgot about the matter entirely for a few days. 

The next time you asked, she was cooking dinner for the two of you. She had rolled her eyes fondly and said she would think about it and then changed the subject, never bothering to stop cutting vegetables.

But finally, as they say, third time’s the charm. You realized where you went wrong the other times: you were just asking the question in the wrong way. You had her sprawled on her back on the couch, tongue drawing circles around her clit. Her hand was tangled in your hair, silently urging you on as whimpers fell from her mouth. “That’s it, baby girl,” she praised in a low voice. “Make mommy come.” But then you had pulled away and said you wouldn’t unless she promised to come to the fair with you. She grunted and then hastily agreed; she would’ve promised you anything if it would get your pretty mouth back on her. 

And a promise is a promise. The day of the fair finally arrives, and you head downstairs after dressing in a plaid skirt and a striped sweater. Agatha is already down there, fiddling with her keys. Your breath catches; she looks so hot. She’s wearing a white turtleneck under a brown blazer and gray pants that make her ass look great. Her long hair is wavy and tumbles loosely down her back. You almost wish you hadn’t pushed so hard to go to the fair, seeing her dressed like that. It is already mid-afternoon though, so you’ll only be at the fair for a few hours. And then she can take you home and–

She raises an eyebrow at you, smirking as if she can hear your thoughts. “Shall we, sweetheart?” 

“Yes!” You say enthusiastically, pushing your dirty thoughts out of your head. 

The drive to the fairgrounds is quiet, Agatha tracing patterns on your leg with one hand while her other hand is on the wheel. “You really like this thing, don’t you?” 

It takes you a moment before you realize that she’s talking about the fair and you nod. “I’ve gone every year since I’ve lived here. I think you’ll love it too, Aggs. I’m dying to take you to my favorite ice cream stand. And there’s face painting – you should get yours painted!” She tosses a glare your way and you giggle. “Bobbing for apples, hayrides, oh, and a kissing booth.” The last part comes out teasingly, just to see how she’ll react. 

Her grip tightens on your thigh, squeezing an involuntary moan out of your mouth. “You better not even look in that direction.” 

“How could I, when I have my very own kissing booth right here,” you say, voice sugary sweet, but she grimaces at how cheesy it is. You laugh and lean over to peck her cheek, delighting in the way the corners of her mouth perk up. 

“Well,” she says, effortlessly parallel parking once you arrive. Hot. “Where to first, my dear?” 

You chew on your lip thoughtfully and then an idea lights up in your head. “Petting zoo!” You all but drag her by the hand. 

The petting zoo has some of the cutest animals you’ve ever seen: little lambs, chicks, and a tiny horse. You coo at the tiny horse and even see Agatha reach out to pet it. You’re smiling like a dope at her when she finally turns to look at you. 

“What?” She asks. 

“Nothing,” you say. “You’re just really cute with small animals.” 

She scoffs and tosses her hair over her shoulder dramatically. “I’m always cute,” she corrects you and you snort. 

You interlock your fingers with hers and pull her to the next station, a corn maze. You have a terrible sense of direction, something not lost on Agatha as she playfully asks you which way to go everytime you come to a fork. Each time, you hold up a finger and close your eyes, pretending to be listening to the wind. Agatha watches you with a smirk, nodding intently when you open your eyes and make up some story about what the spirits told you. You then pick a direction completely at random. 

It’s over thirty minutes later when you both realize you are not getting any closer to the center and maybe Agatha should try picking which way to go. And of course, it’s five minutes and four confident turns later when you reach the statue in the middle. 

“Well, I was the one who got us so close,” you say amidst her laughing. “And then you had the easy part.” 

She stops chuckling and grabs your hips, pulling you against her. “That’s exactly what happened, baby. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Her lips brush against yours and you part your mouth so you can kiss her properly. 

It’s a soft, tender kiss and your heart fills with so much love for the older woman. You pull back just a little and lean your forehead on hers. She’s a few inches taller than you so you have to stand on your tip-toes. “Are you having fun?” You’re a little insecure that Agatha still doesn’t want to be here and she’s only pretending for your sake. If she says no, you won’t hesitate before saying the two of you can leave.

But she cups your cheek and warmly looks into your eyes. “I am, sweetheart. Thank you for making me come.” 

You smile wickedly, not being able to resist. “Oh it’s my pleasure. I love making you come.” The innuendo is not lost on her and she drags you into a much more heated kiss. She nips at your bottom lip and you whine, arms moving around her neck to try to get her closer. Her lips trail down and to your neck, softly sucking. “Agatha,” you gasp, tangling your hands in her hair. 

And then the sound of children laughing forces you apart just in time for two little boys to come running through the clearing, barely sparing you two a glance. 

“This is why I hate children,” Agatha sighs. “Let’s get out of here. Do you remember how we got here?” 

You don’t even respond, just opting to give her a pointed look. You both know you don’t. She smirks and starts walking down the path on the east. You scramble to keep up, not wanting to get separated from her. You know she’d never let it go if you got lost and the fair had to send in a search and rescue team to find you. Agatha barely breaks her stride and about ten turns later, you’re standing out front of the maze. 

You gape at her. “How did you–” She cuts you off by pointing to the sign next to the entrance, a sign with a map of the maze. Your jaw drops even more. “You knew where to go the entire time and you still let me bumble around and take every wrong turn?” 

She shrugs innocently. “What can I say, darling? You’re just really cute when you’re giving me the wrong directions.” She bops your nose, which you scrunch up at her. “Where to next?” 

You scan your surroundings. The line at your favorite ice cream stand is short so you make a beeline for it, Agatha following quickly behind. Dottie’s Famous Soft Serve Ice Cream. 

“The lime is my favorite,” you whisper to Agatha once you’ve gotten in line. “But the vanilla and orange swirl is also pretty good.” 

She considers the list of flavors thoughtfully. “I think I’ll go with the lime.” You smile, unable to help yourself. 

The line goes quickly and the two of you are soon at the front. “Two limes in a waffle cone, please,” you say to Dottie, who immediately recognizes you. You frequent her store several times a month, always getting the same thing. 

“Y/n! So nice of you to stop by,” she says, grabbing two cones. 

“You know me, Dottie. Gotta have my lime ice cream. And I’m trying to corrupt this one.” You nod to Agatha and Dottie chuckles, turning back around with your ice cream. 

“Here you go,” she says, handing them to you. “That’ll be six dollars.” Agatha pulls out a ten from her wallet and puts it on the counter. “Thank you!” 

You hand your girlfriend one of the cones and lead her to sit on a bench away from all the people. You softly groan the minute the lime ice cream hits your tongue. Even after having it so many times, it never fails to disappoint.  You glance at Agatha, who’s watching you with a certain look in her eyes. “Have you tried it yet?” 

She nods. “It’s really good, sweetheart. I knew you wouldn’t lead me astray.” 

“Unlike corn mazes, I do actually know my way around ice cream,” you retort and you both laugh. A comfortable silence settles over you as you lazily work at your ice cream while watching the people walk by. 

You suddenly hear Agatha sharply inhale and you look over with concern. She’s watching you, half her cone already eaten. You can now make out the look in her eyes – desire. “Stop teasing, pet,” she growls, pupils blown wide. 

A thrill runs through you. You hadn’t even been trying to, but you clearly had done something. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently, this time licking a deliberate stripe up the center of your ice cream, never breaking eye contact. 

Her tongue pushes into the inside of her cheek. “Finish up quickly,” she says, her raspy voice doing things to your insides. You rarely get to see her this desperate for you and you wish she’d show this side of her more often. Almost every day, she turns you into a whimpering mess for her, while she’s usually much more composed, even when she lets you take control. 

“Yeah?” You whisper. Her dark eyes dart down to your lips and then back up. 

“Yeah, baby girl. Be a good girl for mommy.” The pet names ignite a fire in your belly. You wolf down the rest of your ice cream, as does she, and then she’s tugging you back to the parking lot. 

“Wait, Agatha,” you say, coming to halt. She looks back at you. “We can’t leave without going on the hayride. It takes you around all the spooky parts of town.” 

She swallows hard. “You really want to?” Part of you wants to just say fuck it and go home with her right now, but the hay ride is always your favorite part of the fair. And you want to share that with her. 

“Yes. I’m sorry.” To her credit, she does a good job covering up her disappointment if she feels any. 

She squeezes your hand. “Don’t be. I can wait a little longer before taking you home and ruining you.” You let out a small gasp, images of her words flitting through your mind. 

“You know, the fair will be here next year,” you say, suddenly ready to call it a night. You can feel how flushed your cheeks have become.

“Oh, no, darling. You are taking me on this hayride,” Agatha insists, smirking. You grumble, secretly a little glad deep down, and walk her over to where the wagons are parked. There’s no one else in line. It’s starting to get dark and a little chilly, so you figure some people might be leaving early. 

“Just the two of you?” a man says and you nod. He holds out a hand and helps you and Agatha step into the back of the wagon. “Here’s some blankets if you need them.” He tosses two fuzzy green blankets at you, hay sticking to them. 

You smile gratefully and throw it over your cold legs. You should’ve worn pants. Agatha wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer as well so you can absorb some of her body heat. The man gets in the tractor attached to the wagon and starts loudly talking as he pulls out of the spot. He’s saying something about the history of Westview when you’re distracted by Agatha putting her hand that’s not around you on your thigh under the blanket. 

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye and you see her already watching you, a wicked grin on her face. “Pay attention,” she whispers, nodding to the back of the man. Luckily, he can’t see you and no one else is in the wagon with the two of you. 

At first, she doesn’t do much, just slowly strokes your thigh with her fingertips. But it’s enough to make the heat in your stomach fire back up. You really try to hone into the hayride tour, but the smell of Agatha and her hot breath on your neck makes it hard. Not to mention her fingers now starting to creep up under your skirt. 

“Agatha,” you breathe. 

“Yes, baby?” she says innocently, like she hasn’t just cupped you over your underwear. Her fingertips are light as they press down. Your hips jump and Agatha’s eyes flash. “Gotta be careful,” she murmurs in your ears. “Or I’ll stop. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” 

You furiously shake your head and bite down on your lip preemptively. She smiles and pushes your underwear to the side, sliding through your folds. Thankfully, the wagon is passing through an area of the town that is quiet and dark, so you really only have to worry about the driver catching you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re already so wet,” Agatha says hotly into your ear. “Does the thought of someone seeing you like this turn you on?” 

“No,” you protest, cheeks burning. 

She pushes a finger into you and your walls clench down immediately. “Are you sure?” she drawls. You take a sharp breath when she moves ever so slightly. “I think you like it. The thrill. The danger. Knowing if anyone looked too closely they’d see what a good slut you are for me.” 

You have to sink your teeth into your hand so you don’t let out a pornographic moan. Agatha chuckles. 

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” she whispers, thumb rubbing your clit just the right way. 

“Mm, mommy, please,” you gasp into her ear. The angle at which her finger is thrusting inside you is awkward at best, but somehow she’s making it work for you. You’d be embarrassed at how close to cumming you are if it wasn’t Agatha, who could probably make you cum if she looked at you hard enough. 

“Good girl, cum for mommy.” She twists the finger inside you and roughly strokes your clit and it sends you over the edge. She gives you a few moments to come down from your high before sliding her hand out from under your skirt. She sucks her wet finger into her mouth and her eyes flash. “That ice cream was good, honey, but it’s got nothing on you.” 

You feel your cunt pulse again, and based on her face, she knows. 

“It’s almost too easy,” she jokes with a grin.

“And here we are, back to where we started,” the man driving the tractor announces, pulling back into the lot where he had been parked. You let out a sigh of release at the perfect timing. He walks around and helps the two of you step out, you not missing the 20 dollar bill Agatha slips into his shirt pocket. 

“That was the best hayride I’ve ever been on,” she gushes and winks at you. You blush and find sudden interest in your feet, not able to meet the man’s eyes. 

“Glad to hear it!” he says happily, apparently missing everything. You give him a tight smile and quickly drag Agatha away. It’s much darker now and the majority of the people have cleared out of the fairgrounds. 

“Was it everything you hoped it would be?” you ask. 

“The fair, or fucking you in the back of a wagon?” You give her a look and she smirks. She pauses walking to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you into a hug. “I had a lovely time, darling. I love you.” 

You smile into her neck. “I love you, too.” You break the hug to give her a wicked look. “Now, you said something about me teasing you earlier? What are you going to do about that?”

The same wickedness glints in her eyes. “Let’s go find out. I can assure you it involves putting that tongue to better use than licking Dottie's famous lime ice cream.” 

She all but shoves you into the car, heat igniting your insides, desire for the older woman racing through you. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

[sageispunk]

red lipstick (18+)

↳ "Don't let your husband stop you from finding the love of your life"

pairing: Maintenance Man! Terry Richmond x blackOC! Alisha Bryce

wordcount: 2.2k

warnings: infidelity, oral sex (m receiving), use of handcuffs, switch! Terry & OC, Daddy kink, lipstick kink, messy bjs, pouty desperate!Terry bc I wanted to

A/N: this is like basically a random part for this AU I've been fixated on for a minute, still not sure if I want to do chronological series or just a bunch of loosely connected oneshots but I'll figure that out l8rrrrr!!! lmk in the comments if you enjoyed this, also pls like + reblog, feel free to follow my notif blog @sageispunklibrary for updates!!!

“C’mon baby, you can do better than that.” 

Alisha kept her gaze on the man, down on her knees in the fancy, red, low-cut dinner dress he’d bought for tonight. The lights were low and her mouth was full, throat nearly stuffed with her lover’s manhood. He sat on her sofa, leaned back with his bare thighs spread apart on the orange velvet, one arm thrown across the back as if he owned the place. 

Terry was big–thick and long, unforgiving. She held her hands together down in front of her, wrists bound together by the fuzzy black cuffs he found while peeking through her nightstand drawer earlier in the day, as new as the day she bought them. 

She hummed as she took most of him down her throat, leaving only about an inch of his warm brown skin exposed to the chilled air. She could tell that wasn’t enough for Terry, not right now at least. He was desperate, aching for a release and she would be just that. 

She felt his hand on the back of her head loosely tangle itself in her long brown locs, fingertips lightly massaging into her scalp. With a sigh from her nose, she closed her eyes and relaxed herself, allowing him to stroke his hips up into her throat, bringing her precious cherry-tinted lips just a little closer to his base each time. Saliva dribbled out from the corners of her mouth, dripping down off her chin and onto his heavy balls. She could feel her thighs sticking together, the heat between them building with each passing second. 

“You can do it, mama…take Daddy’s dick down that throat…”

His sweet, daunting voice echoed in her mind, keeping her grounded in the moment. She loved it when he talked to her like this, so rough and dominating–manly. Not to mention using the handcuffs that had been sitting in her drawer for months, brand new and awaiting the perfect opportunity. Now, her dreams were being fulfilled. It was everything she was missing with Isaiah, and that fact only made her more eager to please him, pushing herself to her limits every time they fucked, and then some. 

“Look at me, Lisha.” 

Terry watched as she obeyed his command, breathless as he took in the scene before him. This perfect, nasty, brown-eyed beauty kneeling for him, worshiping his dick like it was all she’d ever needed. All that consumed her mind, day and night. He knew that it was, the same feelings growing within her and dictating her every move, he felt in himself. They were on the same level again, and he’d be damned if another motherfucker got in between them after this. 

He couldn’t help the moans that evaded him as she finally throated his entire length, not breaking eye contact as she nuzzled her nose into his trimmed pubes. For over twelve years, the man’s life had been structured around maintaining self-control and mental strength, but there was nothing or no one on this planet that made him feel as weak as Alisha did in this very moment. 

His bottom lip found itself clenched tightly between his pearly whites, a crease growing between his eyebrows while he took everything she gave him. She pulled up off his dick, slowly sliding back up with red lips, glossy with spit and precum.

“I missed you.” 

Alisha didn’t plan to say those words, but her nerves were soothed when he reciprocated the statement, his gruff voice hitting her ears and vibrating through her chest. She loved the strain in his voice, in his eyes, knowing that she had his tough exterior breaking down made her feel…powerful. On top of the world. 

Terry’s other hand came to her cheek, caressing her gently as he stared into her eyes, slightly pouting at the sight of his rock hard dick standing up right next to her face. 

He subconsciously made it jump, stealing her attention away. She watched it twitch in front of her, a hungry look growing in her dark eyes as her mouth watered. She needed to feel him stretch her again, her lips, her jaw, her throat. She just needed him inside again. 

Alisha leaned forward and her pink tongue darted out, licking a slow trail up the vein on the underside of his dick. She circled the tip of her tongue around the throbbing head, specifically avoiding his needy, leaking hole. Terry groaned from above, losing his restraint the more she avoided his most sensitive spot. His head was filled with nothing but echoes of pleas, anguished cries for her to relieve him. All he needed was her tongue. 

She smiled, watching his thighs flex and feeling the grip of his fingers tighten in her roots. She pressed her lips against the tip,  firm enough to leave a smudge of red lipstick against the brown flesh. A mark of her love. Craning her neck down, she aimed for a new spot: his balls, heavy and full of cum that he’d reserved for her and her only. Over three weeks apart and he found that nothing matched his freak quite like she did…not even his own hand would suffice.

Terry bucked his hips up when he felt her soft, sticky lips on his sack, leaving yet another beautiful stain. “Lishaaa, fuck!” 

He was supposed to be the one in charge at this moment, yet he felt like he had the least power, even with Alisha in handcuffs. He threw his head back, a loud groan escaping his lips as he found himself writhing, unable to take the teasing. This girl had his goddamn toes curling just from kissing on his balls. 

“Look at me, Terry.” 

Her sweet voice met his ears, gentle and delicate, with a hint of deception laced into her words. He returned his gaze to the woman, seeking some sort of solace in her deep brown orbs. As big and tough as he was, he was not prepared at all for how Alisha wanted to play with him tonight. For the last couple weeks, all he’d fantasized about was breaking her down all across her place…leaving his mark on her, in her, all around her. 

But here she was, beating him right to it. 

Alisha sat up on her knees a bit, not bothering to fix the cleavage spilling from her dress before leaning forward to plant her lips on the skin near his hip. They both stared at her nearly perfect lip print, eyes low and full of want. “Baby–”

“Take these cuffs off me, Terry. Let me take care of you like you take care of me, please.” 

Terry paused, searching her eyes for any hints of mischief but he came up short. Sitting forward on the sofa, he brought his hands down in between them, pulling hers up into his lap. He clasped both her wrists with his left hand, using his right to take his chain off, a shiny silver key dangling in front of her greedy eyes like the world’s last golden ticket. 

It was as if time slowed down, the air seemed thick and heavy, a cloud of desire extinguishing any sense of hesitation in the pair. They both watched as the key slid inside, twisting and releasing the lock with a soft click. The cuffs fell to the floor but Alisha’s hands remained, suspended in his hold. Terry’s eyes came back up to meet hers, intense and unrelenting as he pulled her closer. 

He swallowed down her gasp when their lips met, his eyes fluttering shut as he relished in both the softness and the slight taste of himself. Terry’s tongue wriggled into her mouth, passionately dancing with hers in a battle for dominance. They moaned into one another, lips melding together seamlessly, a reminder of how perfect they are together. 

Alisha pulled her hands from his grasp, slowly so as not to be noticed. Her slender fingers found his length, stiff and weeping for her. A thumb lightly tapped the stickiness on the head, and she grinned into the kiss at his sudden twitching. She rubbed light circles on it, attentive to the way his mouth began to fall open as she pulled back from the kiss, not bothering to slow her movements on his delicate tip. Her left hand fell back to his balls, holding them and only slightly squeezing the warm sack in her palm, just as she’d wanted to earlier.

“Does that feel good?”

His nod was barely noticeable, but she caught it. Just as well as she caught the quiver in his bottom lip when she squeezed just a bit tighter. 

She kneeled down between his thighs again, bringing her face back closer to what she’d needed most. Not wanting to waste anymore time keeping him on the edge, she dived in, removing her thumb and replacing it with her hot tongue. She reached her right hand up to one of his small brown nipples, rubbing his own stickiness from her thumb into the hardened bud. Terry’s body jerked up, attempting to crumble in on itself while her hungry tongue swirled around his tip. “Ohh shiiiiitttt, Lish, please, fuck!”

Her head dropped into his lap, her other hand coming up to rest on his thigh while his dick slid into her throat with much more ease than before. She bobbed up and down, savoring his taste on her tongue and his cries in her ears. She felt so in control, taking him down to the hilt each time, moaning and drooling around his thickness like a slut. 

“Baby, that shit feels–mmmm–so motherfuckin’ good, I swear to god…” Terry groaned out, his brain growing fuzzier while she went down on him like she’d been starving for his dick. She gagged and slurped and hummed around him, all the while looking up at him with those perfect, teary eyes– like a wet dream come to life. His big hands gripped the edges of the sofa while he tried to hold on to the little bit of self-control he had left.

Alisha came up once more, letting him fall out of her mouth before she refocused her attention on his balls. Both hands wrapped around his dick, steadily jerking him as she sucked and licked on his sack, not caring to wipe away the spit across her cheeks and chin. She was being messy and nasty and she didn’t give a fuck about embarrassing herself because she knew that Terry was loving this side of her as much as she did. 

He palmed his face, cursing under his breath as he felt himself at the edge once again. His legs trembled as he tried to hold on, to savor the feeling of her hands and her mouth on him again after so long. There was nothing he needed more but to be surrounded in her warmth, physically and emotionally. He longed to be this close to her, this vulnerable with her, always. 

She released his balls with a gentle pop!, continuing to jerk him off with both hands from the base to the tip. “Cum for me, daddy…” She stared i​nto his eyes, finding herself lost in them, in him. “I need to taste you, please.”

Terry relaxed as her soft whispers hit his ears, the combination of her dirty words and the yearning that was revealed in her eyes helping him over that peak. “Lisha, I’m–” 

She quickly put her mouth on the head as he tensed up underneath her, both his cries and her moans filling the room. The taste of his nut on her tongue had her nearly cumming herself, her thighs subconsciously grinding together as she listened to his whining above. 

“Oh my god, ohmyfucking–fuckkkk…” Terry’s usual rough, baritone voice was higher now, sweet and shaky as he panted out and emptied himself in her. His vision was teary but he tried to stay focused on Alisha between his thighs. She took everything that he gave her, slowing her hands down on his dick while swallowing down nearly every drop of his seed. The filthiest image of tonight seared itself into his mind when she smiled up at him, licking the spare cum off her fingers with more smeared on her plump pink lips. 

She giggled softly, watching the big man come back down to Earth, his dick softening back to its usual form. His gaze was soft now, the love he felt for her shining right through his long eyelashes. As the intensity of the moment calmed down, she became more aware of her sore knees on the carpet, but especially her bare, aching pussy underneath her dress. Terry noticed her shifting and immediately straightened up, leaning forward to pull her up into his lap. “C’mere, love..” She sat on his left thigh with her legs stretched out across his right, burying her face into his neck. “You did a good job, baby…made me feel so good, thank you.” 

He spoke his praises into her hair in between kisses, rubbing a large hand up and down her exposed back. She sunk into the feeling, head still hazy but paying more attention now to what her body craved from him. Terry gently laced his fingers in her locs, pulling back to find her eyes again. 

“You gon’ let me take care of you now?”

taglist: @megamindsecretlair @harmshake @uniqueoutlierblog @notapradagurl7

@planetblaque @urfavblackbimbo @brattyfics @hotmessexpressssss

@soft-persephone @blowmymbackout @sweettea-and-honeybutter

@wakandamama @avoidthings @mzindependent

(lmk if u wanna be added/removed from this, i just went through my other terry fic rbs)

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

[servicpop]

i'm doing it, are you? domestic au ; detective oc (callahan) x bottom male reader

: cw : dialogue bolded , use of daddy (1) , phone sex

Callahan was a quiet man. Usually at home he wouldn't speak a word to you with the exception of a few breaths and murmurs, asking you to move aside when he's walking by or telling you to come sit with him when he's reading a book.

Callahan was quiet, yes, but that didn't mean he didn't care about you. He'd call you over, fingers tangled in the stiff pages of a classic as he beckons you over with his index finger. When you so obediently oblige, he loosely wraps an arm around your waist, hoisting you closer to his body. Callahan's fingers trace down the exposed flesh of your thigh, grabbing it and draping it over his own leg.

He doesn't say another word to you, he just held you in his embrace while he read. You weren't complaining though, with multiple hours of seemingly unsolvable cases and heated discussions was sure to have burnt Callahan out, and you respected and cherished the little moments you two were together.

The majority of the week had been Callahan in his office, staying late while he chipped away at a particularly difficult case. You barely saw him, only seeing him in the dead of night taking a shower and quietly slipping into the blankets of your shared bed. He was always gone by morning.

Callahan couldn't take it! It had been so long since he's got a proper look at your adorable face — he hates to admit how deeply he adores you. His index and middle finger were pressed into his temple, rubbing deep circles into his head. Callahan sighed, throwing his pen onto the stack of papers and folders as he leaned back into the chair, picking up the phone he discarded onto the corner of his desk to avoid distractions.

Your contact was at the top of his list. He was quick to call you — face time you. When you picked up, Callahan couldn't help the small huff of relief to see your face so close to the screen. "Hey," He murmured, wedging his phone between his keyboard and his monitor, letting the phone stand on its own.

"What's up, Marshall?" He just wished you'd actually say his first name for once; 'Marshall' reminded him too much of work. He watched as you mimicked his actions, placing your phone against a cup full of ice on your bedside table, praying that it wouldn't fall over. His eyes flickered and a smile threatened his lips. You were tightly wrapped in your blanket, hair dishevelled, and a toothy smile on your stupid face.

"How... has your day been?" Callahan asked, his voice monotonous and low. His fingers rested on his thigh while he watched you through the screen, his eyes twitching at the sight. You shuffled to propose yourself up on an elbow and Callahan got a peek of your collarbone and a hint of your perky chest. You were wearing your pyjama shirt with nothing underneath.

"It's been alright," The breath Callahan let out was one that would be recognised in bed, shaky and filled with desire. Your voice was so soft and almost grumbly from how comfortable you were. Since when did his pants get unbuttoned?

Your eyes fluttered when you noticed his odd movements, his eyes seemed to be trained to the screen and his hand disappeared under the desk. You could only see his watch. "What are you doing?" You giggle, your eyebrow raising in slight confusion. Callahan just sends a glare to you through the camera, the slight hitches of his breath were picked up by the microphone.

"Take it off, show me," He grumbled, punctuating every word. Callahan glanced down at himself, his thick cock draped over his palm, pulsating with need. Shit, he was so down bad for you. You seemed to comply with no hesitation, shifting the camera so it could prop up against the headboard. You were sat on your shins, staring up into the camera with those round eyes of yours.

He watched as you slipped out of your pants before stripping off your shirt. "Face down, ass up," Callahan barked out a command like he was giving an order. His hand dragged from the base to the head, biting back a groan as he watched you bend down, your hair spilling over the sheets as you laid your head flat on the bed.

"Put a finger in." His voice was hushed, almost embarrassed from how lewd his words were. He felt like a teenage boy asking someone for nudes. It wasn't mature, he knew that. But you somehow brought that out of him.

Callahan watched as your arm tucked underneath your body, your finger plunging into yourself. He could see it with the way your eyebrows knitted and your lips parted into a thin 'O'. His fingers grazed his tip, circling his thumb and his index around the head, imitating what it would feel like pushing into you.

"Put another one in, you know I'm bigger then that," He breathed out pushing his fingers along his length with the timing of your hands. Callahan glanced back at himself on his phone screen, realising that he wasn't giving you much to work with other than his voice and the image of his face.

Reaching out his left hand, Callahan pulled his phone forward and tilted the screen down so you could see his entire dick plaster the screen. He still left a bit of his face in frame — he knew you liked it that way. With the timing of your hand, he fisted his cock with the same pace. Everytime you rocked yourself against your fingers, Callahan pumped himself.

Just the sight of you gripping his white sheets with one hand and the other occupied with pleasuring yourself, caused beads of pre-cum to bead from the slit of his tip. "Faster," He grunted, his hand turning into one blur on your screen from how fast he was moving his hand, "You wanna make your daddy proud, yeah? Go, let me see those pretty eyes." Right now, Callahan would've gripped your hair and lifted your face off the bed to get a good look at your face. He was enamoured by how your eyes were always wet with thick tears.

When you lifted your head, Callahan busted all over his hand. He groaned — as if he was caught off-guard from how quickly he just came — and sat there with a hand over his cockhead, attempting to catch the sticky substance in his hand instead of it spilling all over his desk.

He breathed heavily, his sunken eyes glanced to his screen and saw you mirror his actions, your thighs trembling as white painted the already white sheets. "Miss me that much, Callahan?" You teased, wiping the back of your palm against your forehead to collect any stray drops of sweat.

When he heard you coo his first name, Callahan knew he had to come home. He turned off his camera before grabbing a tissue, roughly cleaning himself up before pulling his pants on, fumbling with his belt as he slid it on. "I'm coming home," was all Callahan said before he ended the call with you.

a / n ; just something quick for Callahan ... this isn't canon btw !! an alternate universe where reader is Callahan's spouse or partner !

[star-sim]

say it back! ☆ jay park

☆ non-idol! bf! jay x fem! reader ☆ summary: jay thinks you're really cute, especially when you're mad. ☆ genre: fluff!! implied college! au / young adult! au , super domestic and cutesy ☆ warning(s)? nope! ☆ word count: 1.1k ☆ after supermassive blackhole i realized just how many jay stans followed me, so eat up guys 😛

It was a Friday evening. The sun was beginning to set, casting a vibrant peach-orange glow over Jay’s apartment.

With a navy-blue apron hanging loosely from his neck, Jay took in the scent of garlic chives and caramelized onions marinating in the pan. With a spatula, he popped in a lump of gochujang, stirring in the hot, red paste.

If Jay had to be honest, he spent most of his time just touching you, his girlfriend. Not in a sexual way. Any physical touch with you was more than enough. Whether it be cuddling on the couch or you clinging onto him while he did things, the intimacy of having skin-on-skin contact was everything.

On days like this, Jay was the one cooking dinner. Not-so-surprising, you were an absolute mess in the kitchen, so he took on that responsibility. You should be home soon. You had taken up an internship a weeks ago, so you had to stay just a tad later than usual.

As Jay immersed himself in the gorgeous aromas of his craft, he thought of what he should do with you later.

He could watch a movie with you, but knowing you, you would probably be all over him. He never expected you to be the clingy, needy type, doing whatever you could to snuggle up against his warm body. Jay’s lips parted before spreading into a gummy grin. He could imagine your voice:

“Baaabe,” you would whine, plopping yourself in between his legs. You would tangle your arms with his, or maybe you'd place his hands in your hair and make him play with it.

If his eyes were glued to the TV for long enough, you would pout, before peppering soft kisses against his neck. Jay would pretend to ignore you, making you whine again. 

“Give me attention,” you would murmur against his ear. 

Oh man, Jay felt giddy and warm inside just thinking about it. 

What he wouldn’t do just to have you come home already—

The door clicked open.

“I’m home!”

Speak of the devil and you will appear.

Jay heard a few footsteps and a giggle before feeling arms slither around his torso. 

“Hi,” you mumbled against his back. 

Jay grinned. “Hi, Angel.”

You peeked over his shoulder, taking in the scent of his cooking. “Smells good.”

“Go wash up, baby,” Jay said. “I’m almost done.”

“Okayyy,” you squeezed his waist. You gave Jay a small peck on the cheek. You drawled, “I love youuuu!”

Jay hummed. 

He heard you huff. 

“I love you,” you repeated.

“Mhm.”

There’s a pulse of silence before you pulled away, leaving him alone.

When you left, he couldn’t help but smile so stupidly. 

You were going to drive him crazy. 

You were so cute, and adorable, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous, and precious, and everything that he loved. He wanted to hold you in his arms forever and kiss you forever and be with you forever and-

How many kids should you and him have? He’d always wanted two boys and a girl, but he wouldn’t mind having more. Later down the line, when you and him got older, he’d buy you a pretty diamond ring— in fact, he’d buy you everything that you’ve ever wanted. And then you and him will get married and buy a house. Would you take his last name? [Name] Park didn’t sound too bad. People would call you Mrs. Park, and instead of calling you by your first name, Jay would refer to you as “my wife,” and—

He was feeling dizzy just thinking about it. Was he getting ahead of himself?

“Are you mad at me?” your voice suddenly said.

Jay jumped. He whipped his head around to see you with your arms crossed and a big, sulky frown.

Were you standing there the whole time?

“B-Babe, I thought you went to the bathroom…”

You shook your head. 

“Are you mad at me?” you repeated. Taking a few steps forward, you turned him around, pressing him up against the kitchen counter while holding his hands together.

“Wait, what?” Jay’s brows knitted together. “Baby, where is this coming from?”

“You…” you began, averting your gaze. “You didn’t say it back.”

Jay cocked his head. “Say what back?”

You huffed. “I said I love you, and you didn’t say it back.”

You tilted your head so that he couldn’t see your pouty face, playing with his fingers. You murmured something under your breath, something that he couldn’t quite hear.

Jay stared at you for a few seconds, processing everything. And then, he threw his head back, loud bouts of laughter emitting from his lips. Every time that he would calm down and look at you, your sulky face would make him burst back into his fit of giggles.

“It’s not funny!” you slapped his shoulder, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment. When he wouldn’t stop laughing, you turned away, punching him on the arm, “You’re a jerk, Jay.”

At that, Jay immediately stopped laughing.

“Wait, I’m sorry!” Jay clasped your hands in his, pulling you close to him so that you were flushed against his chest. 

You frowned. 

“It's too late to apologize,” you mumbled.

Jay almost chuckled at your grumpiness, but stopped himself before you’d be even more upset with him.

You stayed like that for a few moments: Jay holding you close against the kitchen counter, fingers loosely intertwined.

Finally, Jay poked your cheek.

“Hey!”

“Don’t be mad at me, Angel.”

Your frown deepened.

Jay sighed.

Bringing a large hand up, he gently grabbed your face, bringing it closer.

“What are you-”

Jay began littering chaste kisses all across your face– he started at your cheek, moved up to your forehead, down your nose, to your other cheek, and lastly to your chin, where he teased you by kissing just close enough to your lips. He exaggerated by making loud kissy noises to further rile you up.

“Stoooooppp,” you whined, but made no attempt to resist him.

Jay let out a low chuckle. He cupped your cheeks. He ghosted his lips over yours, reveling in the way that you automatically closed your eyes and wet your lips in anticipation. He contemplated whether or not he should pull away to tease you, but decided against it. 

Who was he to deny you?

When your lips met, you let out an excited squeal, squeezing his bicep. When you guys pulled away, Jay breathed against your lips, “I love you.”

“Baby...” you mewled, sliding your hands up his chest to hook around his neck.

“I love you,” he repeated himself, leaning in to give your lips a peck. “I love you so fucking much.”

You giggled softly, your breath brushing against his cheek. “I love you, too.”

[crimsonbubble]

Tainted Red

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, rockstar!hongjoong, hongjoong has a tongue piercing bc why not, oral, hongjoong has a thing for heels or smth, hongjoong is down horrendous, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, cum eating *not proofread, just pure horny

[Rockstar!Hongjoong may be my best au yet also what is with me writing rockstar hongjoong in a fucking hotel room] Special tags for @pixlpxie @lovinjjong @yyaurii ‼️ also mayhaps I made a rockstar!matz playlist <33 feel free to send in any song recs you have for any of my playlists 🩷

For a man whose friends make fun of him for not being able to communicate his feelings to anyone, he has no problem with showcasing more emotions with you than any of his close friends have seen from him. But you always thought that his actions told you more than his words.

You listened to the exhaust in the bathroom as you plopped down into one of the lounge chairs in the hotel room. Hongjoong walks back into the room, tugging his tie loose as he admires your figure sitting on the loveseat with his fur coat draped over you. With the coat slipping down one of your shoulders, you crossed one leg over the other, a glass of champagne sitting daintily in your left hand. The balcony's glass doors let the moonlight cascade over you in a sinful allure.

Hongjoong felt his cock twitch, the red bottoms of your heels almost glowing as you sipped at the drink resting in your hand. The soft click of his shoes against the wooden floor made you turn to him, watching as he kneeled in front of you. His hands gently uncrossed your legs, letting your heel rest in his palm as he gingerly kissed up from the toe of your heel, up your leg. You hummed contentedly, sighing in delight as he slowly spread your legs apart, slotting himself between your parted thighs.

As he kissed the top of your thigh, he leaned back to trail more kisses down your other leg, his hands carefully caressing up your calf. You put your drink down on the table beside you, caressing Hongjoong’s cheek before you leaned forward to capture his lips with yours. You cradled his face between your hands, your thumbs rubbing against his cheekbones. When you pulled away, Hongjoong’s eyes were glossy and his lips swollen and rosy. He pressed against your stomach with a gentle hand, urging you to lay back.

Hongjoong was never one to skimp out on your pleasure. He’d spend the rest of eternity buried between your pretty thighs if he could. But it’s moments like this, that make everything worth it. Hongjoong loses himself as soon as he gets a taste of you. He knows he’s good with his tongue, has to be, he’s a rockstar, a performer. He hooks his arms under your thighs, resting them against his shoulders. Your panties are recklessly thrown behind him as he now seems too busy licking your clit to care where they end up.

Hongjoong groaned against your pussy as your hand tangled in his hair. You moaned helplessly into the air, your thighs closing around his head. Hongjoong continued to let his pierced tongue lap over your cunt, loving how you clench around his tongue. Hongjoong gropes and squeezes your thighs as he continues to assault your twitching clit with harsh licks before sucking the bud into the warmth of his mouth. Your back arches off the seat, your thighs shaking as the pleasure increases with every flick of his tongue.

You tugged at his hair again, bucking your hips against his face. Your chest is heaving with every breath, soft whimpers slipping from your lips as your body seizes. Hongjoong holds you steady, guiding you through your orgasm. Your body jolted as Hongjoong kept lapping at your cunt through your orgasm. He pressed a messy kiss to your clit, his breathing laboured as he kissed along your inner thighs. You combed through his hair, attempting to flatten it from its current tousled state. Hongjoong leaned his head against your thigh, his eyes flickering between your eyes, lips, and your still throbbing cunt.

You looked even more delicious under the moonlight.