#that said why is your fantasy world full of sticky hands | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

j-graysonlibrary · 1 year ago

Text

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two Chapter 10

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Two

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 98k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: With another Xiang in the mix, for the first time in history, Pangu decides to reevaluate his methods and his place in the world. Along with taking his little sister Heidi as his last disciple, he also chooses to take the more political path in his efforts to end the discord throughout the land—particularly within Terra. (And gaining favor from the handsome Lord of Ultimos does not hurt.)

Heidi butts heads with everyone in the group, save Raine, and tensions are higher than ever. There are failed love confessions, in-group fighting, and demons from Kira’s past but that all comes to a head when they meet a servant of Shakti who is more than what she seems.

Could it be that the Mistresses of Shadow are more nuanced than previously believed? Or that the strict dichotomy between light and dark are, perhaps, a touch exaggerated? That and more begin to plague Pangu’s mind and his faith wavers…

Full chapter 10 under the cut

Chapter X:

Thankfully, none of the villagers were grievously injured and just required basic first aid and care. Pangu and his disciples helped to make the process of caring for them go by quicker. And, despite the language barrier, there was not much trouble understanding one another.

Many villagers knew a few words of common tongue (mostly from Alf holding lessons occasionally) but none were as proficient as Alf or Idris.

Idris, as it turned out, was Alf’s star student in that regard. He was also the resident healer and directed the majority of the aid efforts. He could look at an herb and tell instantly what it was good for and what part of the body it was best applied to. He infused many of the bandages with a long, yellowish leaf and explained that it was a means to fight bacterial infections.

He also concocted a drink for all of the injured to take, no matter the severity of their wounds. It, too, was to fight infection and also promoted faster healing.

“Ew, it’s sticky,” Heidi commented after touching one of the spare yellow leaves. She rubbed her fingers together with a face.

Idris laughed. “Ro’bou. The slim is good for you.”

She still wiped her hand off on her robe, only making the man laugh more.

The rest of the disciples were closer to Alf who looked over a map with them. It was more custom-made to include the small villages throughout the jungle—a feature that most general maps from Terra did not have.

“You passed Kuniser on your way here,” Alf pointed out and traced the line with a stick. “You need to head back north west. If you like, I was going to make a trip there soon anyway. I can guide you.”

“That would really help,” Pangu thanked him. Even if he was sure they would find the way eventually, it would be much easier to just travel with someone who already knew where they were going.

“So, what made you decide to study outside of your village?” Baiya asked and held his chin up in the palm of his hand. From his point of view, the village did not want for much and they even had their own ways of dispersing miasma. Why did they need to bother with the bigger world?

Alf shot him a short but weak smile. “As much as I love my village and customs I grew up with, I am very curious about the rest of the world. I started by venturing to Kuniser since it is still ruled by my people. Or, more like our cousins…Sot’ta, I learned much there. I even went to Ultimos a few years back but, of course, I was not dressed like this.” He gestured at himself with a chuckle. “It is overwhelming there but fascinating.”

“I imagine it is a lot to deal with coming from here,” Kira said, “I have been to a lot of places and Ultimos is still too big for me sometimes.”

“That is a relief,” Alf laughed again. “I also learned how people thought of my people.”

“People of Ultimos were cruel?” Raine asked with a frown already in place.

“Not cruel, exactly…” The man sighed. “It was more like they did not know we existed. Or, if they did, we were little more than an afterthought. Many well-to-do people made comments that we would be subjugated eventually so it did not matter. And, I guess, they are not wrong.”

“But you said the lord of Kuniser, of Meala as a whole, is of your people. Does he not prevent that?” If Pangu recalled his studies correctly, for the past two hundred years, the lord in Meala had been from the tribal lands and had struck a compromise with the other Terran lords to leave the south and Lun alone so long as they promoted a “civilized” city in Kuniser. It was still imperfect but, so long as the lord in Kuniser remained in charge, the people should have been protected from subjugation.

“It is complicated.” Alf’s lips thinned. “I am not sure that I even know enough words in your tongue to properly explain it.”

“How would you say it in your tongue?” Baiya asked.

“E sta li pisa; net shiv mucca. Basically, a slap to the face instead of a stab to the gut.”

Kira frowned. “I think that paints a pretty vivid picture, actually.”

That got Alf to laugh again. “Yes, so, part of why I wish to know so much about the outside world and why I wanted to learn common tongue is so that I can help prepare my people for a very possible transition into that world. I hope that it does not happen or, if it does, that it is at least slow and on our terms but…I wish to ease that pain.”

Pangu shook his head. “I cannot say what will happen after my time but, while I am the Xiang, I am working with the lord of Ultimos. He wishes to unite Terra and, while I do support him, I will ask him to avoid dragging your people into it. Really, he only needs the support of Kuniser…”

“You would have my gratitude if you were to use your power to help protect us, however…” Alf trailed off when all eyes were on him again, “Do not take offense when I say that I cannot, fully, trust your word.”

The history of how people came to the land was one shrouded in mystery and often interwoven with Tiandi’s teachings. Historically, however, as far as anyone could recount, there had been groups of people living here before the “civilized” world moved in. So the people Pangu and his disciples belonged to, largely, must have come from somewhere else. The theories that did not rely on the idea that Tiandi created their ancestors and simply plopped them down on the land (or that he chose particular native people to be his chosen and ignored the rest which was popular in Terra and Agni but not so viable in Pangu’s mind) surmised that people must have fled from the north, from a freezing wasteland.

That idea seemed reasonable since, if there had been sustainable land up north previously but it started to freeze, the people would have been forced to find a new place to live. And where better than south, past the mountains, and into the warmth?

The truth was still hard to know. Unless someone explored up north and found definitive artifacts from their past, there was no telling.

“I do not take offense,” Pangu responded after a moment. He, perhaps, did not fully understand Alf’s wariness but he could respect it.

***

They set off to travel at sundown as Alf suggested it was actually the safest time to be in the jungle. It felt counter intuitive but he was the expert.

He said his goodbyes to his tribe and Idris gave him a hug. Once he pulled away, the healer looked to Heidi and waved. “So long, beautiful.”

Her face turned red and she grumbled to Alf, “You should really tell him what that means.”

But Alf just laughed. “Oh, he knows exactly what he is saying.”

Heidi glanced back over her shoulder and made eye contact with Idris for far longer than intended. His wide, eager smile was too intense to stare at for too long.

On the trip, Alf stayed by Pangu’s horse, holding the reins and leading them. He also answered all of Pangu’s lingering questions about the village—mainly about the structure to their Great mother.

In the Oasis, they too had worshiped a maternal entity of the earth they referred to as Am’ma. There was some overlap with Alf’s people but they used different terminology. When Pangu asked about the four spirits: Salamander, Undine, Gnome, and Sylph, Alf perked up and said they knew of them as well. In fact, the structure for their Great Mother was thought to be an old symbol, more specifically, for Gnome.

Apparently, it was there before the village was and the community was formed around the structure. There were stories of the spirits being children of the Great Mother but all of them had died. The mother was so distraught to lose her children that she sank into the earth and cried for an eternity. The miasma was her sadness and when it became thick, the people performed their mourning ceremonies to let her know she was not alone.

Pangu’s defensiveness over his beliefs and what he knew to be true was less prominent now. It was not as if he lost his faith in Tiandi but he had started to wonder if, perhaps, certain details were omitted from his teachings for a reason.

Each time he closed his eyes, he kept seeing the stone building with the ropes wrapped around it. The people of the village already assumed the arrowhead was some sort of grave and the fact that touching it brought Pangu into the spirit realm, in front of what he felt, deep down, was a tomb…he could not shake the thought that there was more than just a strong connection.

But he had no time to linger. Kuniser was upon them.

An archway of large bones—a huge beast’s ribs by the looks of them, circled about the entrance. A mix of tribal architecture and that which was present in other areas of Terra stretched out along the paved roads. People walked about, also wearing a mix of robes and wraps. A few of them had paint on their faces and the backs of their hands but otherwise wore quite formal robes. It was a fascinating sight but it also gave Pangu a strange and uncomfortable pain in his heart.

No matter what he thought, he could not help the feeling that he was seeing only a brief glimpse in history—a scene that would not last the test of time.

He was not the only one either. Kira, Raine, Baiya, and Heidi all struggled with some version of this thought. Something between a bittersweet fondness of a meeting of worlds all the way down to a second-hand resentment for forcing people who may not have wanted to live this way to assimilate or face consequences. Heidi started to wonder if the village of Gnoma would soon look the same while Baiya felt he would be furious if his family was forced to change their way of life to appease the lords of the land. Kira and Raine fell somewhere in the middle, also feeling equal parts appreciation and worry.

“I am familiar with the lord,” Alf told Pangu, “So I will introduce you and give you a meeting. Although, I am sure they expect you.”

He nodded and continued to follow the man. The palace, toward the back of the city, was built in and around a giant tree. The trunk was a pale brown and knotted in many places while the branches were long and thin, curving down and out, like a spider’s legs. The Xiang and his disciples had not seen any such tree since entering the jungle so they each took in the sight with awe.

The inside was filled with a mix of sunlight and oddly colorful fire light. That was on account of there being screens around the torches, projecting out both the color of the particular screen as well as shapely shadows. Pangu bet that the throne room looked otherworldly at night.

“Lord Meng Dio Kur,” Alf addressed the man on the throne made of bone and rock.

“Ah, Alf of Gnoma.” Meng Dio Kur stood up with a large smile on his face. From around him, Pangu could see that his throne had a pelt lining it so it was probably not as uncomfortable as initially thought. He no longer felt as bad for the woman sitting in the smaller throne to the right.

Alf and the lord hugged, a far more informal greeting than Pangu was expecting.

“You know you can call me Dio,” the lord said before his eyes darted to the rest of them, “As can our guests. I really do not care for my full name.”

“I hear that,” Kira said.

Dio walked closer to them, casting a shadow over them. Again, he was only shorter than Raine but he was far wider. The muscles on him, covered by healthy amounts of fat, were still noticeable and Pangu wondered what sort of activities the man had to partake in to maintain such a figure. He had to do training daily.

Pangu snapped out of admiring him and looked at his face. His wide, round features were accentuated by a beard which was tied into two braids that hung down to his chest. “Ah, Lord Dio then?” When he received an eager nod, he continued, “I am the Xiang. My party and I were sidetracked on our way here but Alf was kind enough to guide us back.”

“There was an attack on Gnoma and the Xiang helped us,” Alf explained.

“An attack?” Dio frowned.

The woman stood up and joined them. She was tall as well, only coming to Dio’s shoulder but that put her around Kira’s height. “This sounds serious. Should we prepare tea? …Liquor?”

“Just tea should be fine,” Alf said but then looked to Pangu and his disciples. “Unless…?”

“Just tea,” the Xiang seconded.

In a separate, more intimate room, the group recounted the story with Alf often taking the lead. The woman also introduced herself as Dio’s wife, Yue Evie Moon. But, like her husband, she preferred to be referred to as just Evie. She had long, feathered blonde hair and piercing maroon eyes that she had no issue staring directly into people’s souls with.

At the end of the story, Dio took a long swig of his tea and turned to Pangu. “So, while I am happy you helped some of my distant family, I am sure you did not come all the way down here for that.”

“Correct.” Pangu retrieved the letter from his robe. “This is from Lord Viren of Ultimos. He wants to create a unified Terra to put an end to the infighting happening in some territories and the help combat the miasma.”

“Hmmm.” Dio held the letter up to the light as if to read through the envelope.

Evie snatched it from him. “I will read it.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Do you see this? She always bullies me.”

Kira and Heidi both snickered but then stopped the second they realized they were the only ones laughing.

Evie, as if she was not still in mixed company, actually took the letter out and read it. “Ah, so he wishes to wage war against his uncle.”

“That is not—” Pangu started but then realized he had not read the letter himself. “Does it say that?”

“More or less.” She shrugged. “His uncle is a tyrant and will not cooperate so more of the miasma is spreading. Therefore, if every other lord backs Viren, his uncle will have to surrender and then Viren can do what he wishes with all of Terra.”

“He is not the type of man who would use this opportunity to become a tyrant,” Raine stopped her before she could get carried away with any ideas.

“Raine is right,” Baiya said, surprising just about everyone else. Even Pangu was taken aback. Though he did not know the extent surrounding Baiya’s issues with the lord, he had noticed some level of distance. “Viren wants peace and he treats his people with respect.”

“That is all well and good for his people but who is to say how he will treat our people?” Evie raised an eyebrow. “Those of us who will not add names to ours in order to blend in? Those of us who have no desire to learn your tongue or your customs? Will he leave us be or will he, in the belief that he is saving us from our backwards ways, force us to live as he does?”

Her words hurt Pangu but he could still see her point. Viren would not push his laws on people under threat of violence but he could wish to make things better for others—including the tribal peoples in the south.

“I will write a letter along with your response, if you agree to help him.” Pangu gulped when all eyes settled on him. “I will ask that he leave the south and Lun alone and I will wrap my allegiance to his cause in these conditions. You may read my letter before I send it…”

Evie and Dio exchanged glances while Alf took a long drink from his tea. After the short silence, Dio broke out into a raucous laugh. He even slapped his thigh.

“You are willing to put your mission on the line to help us?” he wiped the corner of his eye, catching a tear. “You are one weird Xiang.”

“Is it my being a Xiang that makes it weird?” Pangu asked.

“Have Xiang not come down here in the past?” Heidi asked before adding, “Or were they aggressors?”

Baiya silently sighed, having a feeling he knew what was to come. From his history, there were not wonderful stories of the Xiang outside of the over exaggerated tales for children. The truth was quite murky and what could be gleaned was not always good.

Luckily, Pangu had become used to this reality. His hands tightened on his robes but he kept a placid expression.

“Well, Xiangs have notoriously not come here at all. When they do, it is to fight or, very rarely, ‘clear’ the air of miasma. But since we regulate it well ourselves, there is usually no need.” Dio sighed. “There is no stake in this land for a Xiang. One, probably almost a thousand years ago now, did try to convert some of us but all they managed to do was form this city. Of course, a few hundred years later, my ancestors overran the place and entered negotiations with the then-lord of Ultimos.”

“You guys took this place over?” Kira smirked. “That’s pretty cool.”

“We hope to not have to use violence to prove our conviction again,” Evie responded with a less excited smile, “This peace is terribly balanced but we do what we can to maintain it.”

“And I hope to help,” Pangu said and kept eye contact with the woman. “I know you do not trust me by principle but treat with me for just a while longer and I will prove to you that I am on your side.”

Raine recalled what Pangu had said just before the necromancer attacked. He felt useless as Xiang now. He frowned as he started to wonder if he was, maybe, trying so hard in order to be useful in some way. If he was a little too eager to devote himself to whatever cause caught his fancy.

That was not to say this was not an important issue but Raine could not help but be concerned. He checked in with the rest of the disciples to see Kira watching the lords with interest but, of course, he always invested more when they came across people who discarded or simply did not use family names. Kira felt more comfortable around those kinds of groups. Heidi also watched the lords although occasionally looked to Alf and she seemed curious more than anything. The only other one paying extra attention to Pangu was Baiya, though Raine was not sure if it was for the same reasons he was checking in on the Xiang.

As crucial as this meeting was, Raine had a feeling it would only delay their need to talk things out and, in a few weeks time, he would yelling at them around a campfire again.

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

0 notes

vvienne · 3 years ago

Text

RANWAN FIC RECS

Absolute Zero by jitterati

Pathologically solitary academic Chu Wanning left behind a life of research to enlist with the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps Jaeger team when giant monsters began to emerge from the Pacific ocean, eager to leave his personal entanglements behind him and join humanity's collective battle against the threat of extinction.

His goal is to build an artificial intelligence that will allow a pilot to operate a Jaeger mech solo - eliminating the need for pilot compatibility and the mortifying ordeal of being totally known by another person, a "neurological handshake" known colloquially as the drift.

He didn't expect his former students to follow him all the way to front line of the war against the kaiju.

Featuring lots of side character interaction, pining, yearning, questions on the nature of personhood, friendship between jerks, people coping badly with loss, snarky AI, and giant robots. Illustrations by Saika & Daru

Husky and his White Kitten Disciple by JustAMoon123

Within a lonely heart, the seeds of hatred start to grow.

-A 2ha Age and Role-Reversal AU.-

NOTE: This Story is Now E Rated!

[Before meeting Chu Wanning, Mo Ran had drawn his power exclusively from the Wood side of his dual Spiritual Root, and his Qi had always glowed green.

Now, only when in battle did it do so, with Bugui’s blade encased in a tyrannical green light.

Outside of battle, like when he set barriers of warmth; or made Crystal Butterflies to tease golden flowers; or cast a small array to keep a box of food warm, his Qi manifested with a gentle red glow.

Mo Ran’s Wood was destructive, while his Fire was protective.

Ah, Mo Weiyu, Mo Weiyu. Even your power betrays you.]

Burn, Pine, and Perish by moonqueenmaia

It’s been two days since Taxian-Jun’s last visit, and Mo Ran hasn’t touched Chu Wanning at all, beyond gentle and fleeting caresses. Chu Wanning decides to take matters into his own hands by surprising Mo Ran when he comes back to their home after a trip down the mountain.

it's no coincidence (it's a kitty-incidence) by lanzhan (gothguk)

There’s a white cat lounging in the middle of Mo Ran's bed.

to touch you with bare hands (even if it burns) by moonqueenmaia

Chu Wanning is a renowned professor of mechanical engineering at Sisheng Peak University. Beautiful, lonely, and talented beyond belief, he has spent his 32 years mostly by himself, silently and secretly yearning for affection and companionship. Yet Chu Wanning has resolved to himself that he will spend the rest of his life alone, no matter his hidden fantasies.

Enter Taxian-jun, an unruly, arrogant, and struggling student, fiery and domineering, who comes in and shatters the calm of Chu Wanning's life. They enter into an agreement, both burying their feelings underneath a storm of lust and lies. Yet amidst it all, something deeper may be helplessly and slowly blooming.

It is up to them to cultivate it, or destroy it for good.

cursed by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning and his disciples are sent to investigate an abandoned village, and Chu Wanning is hit with a curse.

Mo Ran was determined to treat his shizun respectfully in this life, but what choice does he have?

liar liar cock on fire by lofikv

I (32M) walked in on my roommate (23M) masturbating in our living room. Ever since then I couldn't erase the image of his penis in my mind but I found a sex toy online that is almost as big as him, so I bought it and tried it on myself so that I can imagine how he would feel inside me. I have also been romantically attracted to him ever since we started living together. How can I cope with this?

UPDATE: He caught me in the middle of an emergency.

(Absolute) Unit 311 by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning doesn't have a soulmark.

Neither does Mo Ran.

ducks entering highway by Sectionladvivi

Mo Ran finds out his well-respected, MILF-coded, tears-of-angels-tight-ass robotics professor moonlights as an erotic novelist. He immediately leverages this knowledge for an opportunity to play tonsil hockey.

to yearn by devilsoupe

Chu Wanning starts to cough up flowers. Taxian-Jun is angry. Chu Wanning is not allowed to die pining for someone else.

When it starts happening again in his second life, Mo Ran knows enough to worry.

from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom by Wildehack (tyleet)

Taxian Jun is the victim of a flower curse.

sticky fingers by fakeplasticlily

The man tosses the towel unceremoniously back at Mo Ran’s chest, like he’s personally offended by it. And the fact that his hands had just been all over said chest barely minutes earlier, maybe. “Please pack a box of egg tarts with extra custard filling, a box of red bean paste buns with extra syrup, a rice pudding with extra candied fruit garnish, and a box of osmanthus cakes with extra sweet pear jam.” Mo Ran’s eyes grow progressively wider as he lists the items. It’s him. Not the suburban mother of four, not the elderly guy dealing with a midlife crisis, but quite possibly the hottest guy he’s ever seen. Who also happens to have the highest sugar tolerance Mo Ran has seen in a human being in his two years of running this bakery.

Hard to Love The Lonely Night by bloodsongs

Chu Wanning glares up at him, adjusting his women’s robes. “Still, why couldn’t you have been the wife instead?”

Coughing politely, Mo Ran looks to the side, avoiding his gaze. “Shizun’s skills with the illusion barrier far surpass this humble disciple’s, and, well…”

He doesn’t need to complete his sentence—it’s infuriating, but Mo Ran is now taller than him, broader than him, larger than him. Very much so. The young sapling he raised in Sisheng Peak is now a full-fledged tree, a man built like the mountains Chu Wanning has seen in his travels.

Chu Wanning and Mo Ran pretend to be a married couple visiting a small mountain town to investigate some suspicious disappearances. Mini Canon AU casefic. Contains spoilers up to Chapter 130 or so of the novel.

Purple Ink by jeejaschocolate

Chu Wanning is a robotics engineer who lives a life of isolation and loneliness, only partially due to his chronic illness. Eventually he gets so sick that he requires the help of a full-time medical assistant.

Of course, these days, all those jobs are given to CyberLife androids.

Chu Wanning resents the android they give him. From his fiery eyes to his long black hair, to his incomparable tenderness and consideration for Wanning’s feelings.

He resents him. All the way until he falls in love with him.

Fallen Flowers in Swallows' Nests by bloodsongs

You deserve better—I refuse to disrespect you ever again. I want to be better. I must be better.

But I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know where Taxian-Jun ends and Mo-Zongshi begins.

I only know now that I cannot lie to myself: I want you so fiercely that I burn with it, I am consumed with the desire to make you mine and mine alone. To become one with you, feeling your fire twine with mine.

Or, Chu Wanning finds letters from Mo-Zongshi that were never shared with him.

These hitherto undiscovered letters cover a range of emotions that weren't present in the book he gifted his Shizun: contrition, yearning, and desire.

Counterpoint by senchafloat

Five years ago, Mo Ran was just a boy who loved playing piano—there were many things he didn't know. He didn't know how capricious and unforgiving the world of classical music could be. He didn't know just how lucky he was to have Chu Wanning as his teacher.

Five years later, Chu Wanning is now a renowned concert pianist, and Mo Ran is an upstart conducting student. When Chu Wanning shows up unannounced at his alma mater, Mo Ran has plenty of questions, along with a desire to prove his worth to his old teacher. But as it turns out, Chu Wanning isn't as invincible as he once seemed. As old secrets come up to the surface, the two of them are forced to reinvent the ways they'll make music together.

impatient to adore you by riverdanceeee

At some heartbreaking point in his life, Mo Ran accepted that Chu Wanning would never reciprocate his feelings, so he dealt with it as any other person would. He'd rid himself of his affection, respect their friendship, and learn to move on. But Mo Ran's affection runs too deep, and when any opportunity to spend time with Chu Wanning knocks on his door, he goes running to answer and accept. Even if it means he has to break up a potentially dangerous dog fighting ring.

To Bow Before A Willow Vine by bloodsongs

“I…” Mo Ran hadn’t thought that far. He shakes his head, lowering his head in deference, resting his forehead against Chu Wanning’s knuckles. "I'll do anything you want of me."

The silence stretches on for a beat too long.

"Anything?" Chu Wanning says eventually, tilting his head.

Written for 2Ha Week, Day 4: Reverse AU for the 0.5 timeline. When Chu Wanning storms Sisheng Peak and crowns himself the cultivation world's new emperor, Mo Ran trades his life for Xue Meng's. Contains spoilers for up to the end of the novel.

Call me by my name by rinsled05

When the man called Taxian-Jun arrives, years later, it’s the coming of a storm.

He sweeps into a dinner appointment between Chu Wanning and a client, clad in black, a smirk tugging at his mouth. Over the spark of irritation, Chu Wanning can’t help but admire his lean frame, the way his hair, cut rebelliously short, falls over smoldering, dark eyes. The way he towers over him, even when Chu Wanning rises to full height.

Chu Wanning’s heart races as Taxian-Jun leans in close, ignoring the shouts and gasps around them.

“Sakaki of Ran,” he purrs in their native tongue. “You’re mine.”

Chu Wanning lifts his chin. “I don’t know you.”

“You will,” Taxian-Jun says, and leaves.

In which Chu Wanning is a courtesan serving Chinese merchants in Nagasaki, Japan, and Taxian-Jun decides to make him his.

荷官牌型 ♠️ The Croupier's Hand by bloodsongs

In deep financial straits after losing his job as a teacher, a desperate Chu Wanning becomes a croupier at Sisheng's new casino.

The once sleepy town of Sisheng Peak grows busier by the day as the casino draws more and more tourists to their mountains. Consumed by his lingering regrets over the worst mistake of his life that destroyed his teaching career, Chu Wanning is too distracted to worry about anything else but his next shift, his next paycheck.

Except that's when Mo Ran, the reason Chu Wanning lost everything, returns to Sisheng Peak.

As the heir to the casino.

White Rabbit Club by minkit

Desperate to rid himself of a few pesky things called virginity and desire, Chu Wanning waltzes into a world he knows little about and right into the embrace of a mysterious stranger who reminds him of the student he's been dreaming about all year. The lust fueled dreams his student stars in are the very reason Chu Wanning applied to the sex club in the first place, and now he's desperate to get rid of these filthy impulses once and for all.

Congratulations, Chu Wanning, on your acceptance into the White Rabbit Club. We hope you enjoy your stay.

Risk and Restraint by purloinedinpetrograd

There is nobody Mo Ran works with who does not love him. He’s worked hard to cultivate this image while he climbs the corporate ladder at Sisheng, and it’s paid off in dividends. He’s in every WeChat group. He can call in favors with any division of any department. He can make even the tightest of deadlines relax their stranglehold on his team.

That is, there is nobody except, of course, Chu Wanning.

A Lingering Sweetness by theherocomplex

Chu Wanning is now all too aware of what he looks like: a dry stick of a man, never handsome, angular and cold and pale. A drab, short-tempered creature, as appealing as a splinter in one's foot. But Mo Ran looks at him as if he will never get his fill, and part of Chu Wanning thinks, What if —?

At the end of the line by PearlAquaBlue

“So … I reckon someone thought you needed to loosen up a little bit. Now that you’re here, want to try it?”

Chu Wanning hangs up. Throws her phone on her pillow with a disgusted glare after it. Stands up and paces to the kitchen in long, angry strides. Her cheeks are burning. With trembling fingers, she grabs a glass and pours herself some water, gulping it down in one go. It doesn’t help much. She grips the kitchen counter tightly, then marches back into the bedroom to glare at the phone again. Her fingertips itch, and it’s as if some kind of magnetic force draws her closer and closer to her bed until her fingertips are but an inch away from that tempting black mirror. Before she knows it, she’s unlocked it unsteadily and pressed “repeat” on the last call.

“Welcome to Sisheng Peak – ”

“And what would that entail?” she asks, a little too breathless.

Let's Fall in Love for the Night by purloinedinpetrograd

Chu Wanning could only stare in horror as a large cloud of sickeningly yellow pollen rose from the field, blanketing the place where Mo Ran stood in a heavy fog. “Um,” he said lamely.

“Fuck,” Mo Ran cursed, and Chu Wanning didn’t even have the heart to chastise him for his coarse language, because he was too preoccupied wrestling the surge of fear at seeing his disciple disappear behind the haze of that indeterminately threatening dust.

A million terrible possibilities raced through his mind, each one more dramatic and gruesome than the last. His heart hammered against his ribcage, threatening to crack the bones. “Mo Ran,” he said slowly, “I think you should tell me what that does, now.”

Xue Zhengyong sends Chu Wanning and Mo Ran on a mission to find a specific ingredient for some concoction of his wife’s. Chu Wanning is torn between rejoicing at the chance to spend time alone with Mo Ran... and grieving over the very same thing.

But, well, it’s just flowers. What could go wrong, right? (Spoiler alert: it’s sex pollen.)

the day dawns in your hues by localshabba

2ha Week 2020 Day 1 prompt - Haitang

---

Schoolteacher Mo Ran is having an ordinary day until he has an awkward encounter with the notoriously rigid school librarian, which leads to the start of something new.

Also features: flowers, dinosaurs and lots of tenderness and pining.

helping hands by verity

When Mo Ran was but a young, innocent, virtuous grad student—well, one of those things—she built that couch from a flatpack box with her own two hands. Over the years, the smell of polyester and cheap foam padding has given way to an equally aromatic blend of Chu Wanning's haitang blossom perfume, spilled coffee, and white lithium grease. Chu Wanning herself is always perfectly dressed without a stain in sight. Even right now, her head tucked onto one folded arm, the other loosely gripping her tablet, she looks so formal.

Mo Ran gently rests a hand on Chu Wanning's socked ankle where it peeks out of those tailored white trousers. She really should behave herself.

She really should... behave herself...

in plain sight by localshabba

Written for a prompt fill in the 2ha Kink Meme.

---

"I have a surprise," Mo Ran breathed, coming to stand so close behind him that his breath landed on Chu Wanning's nape. Not touching Chu Wanning any other way, because he likes to make Chu Wanning lean back just a little bit, to seek out that contact himself.

"I think Chu-laoshi will enjoy it."

Chu Wanning is sure he agreed to the whole idea; he's just unclear on when. Things got hazy around the point when Mo Ran turned him around by the shoulders, got down on his knees and...well. Apparently he'd skipped breakfast that morning.

When he returned to his senses, his clothes were all neatly tucked into place, not a stain on them, and a charmingly pink sexual aid was nestled comfortably up his--ahem, inside him.

---

Now available in Spanish!

casually acquainted by tagteamme

Chu Wanning knows what he is and what he isn’t. And where he lacks in pleasantries and outward appeal, he makes up for in untouchable grace and dignity.

It threatens to unravel once he meets a familiar face in an unfamiliar city.

“So quick to run away from me, Chu-laoshi,” Mo Ran says, voice gently teasing as Chu Wanning refuses to make eye contact with him. “After you came all the way from…”

He trails off, waiting for Chu Wanning to let him know, but he sees the map open on Chu Wanning’s phone and grins wider. “You want directions?”

Chu Wanning clears his throat, and shakes his head. He should say something— instead, he stays silent as he looks down at his phone and punches in the hotel name again.

Happily, his phone tells him to try again when he has signal.

The Right Hand of Light by gedsparrowhawk (FaceChanger)

Chu Wanning is asleep on the bed, clutching his hands tightly to his chest and curled in on himself. He’s still wearing the same robes he was in in the water prison. On the writing desk, a bowl of water and clean linen for bandages sit untouched, and a tub of bathwater has cooled without being used. Mo Ran sighs to himself. Wanning is truly hopeless.

He sits on the side of the bed and touches Chu Wanning’s shoulder. “Wanning,” he says. “Wanning, wake up.”

---

Rare 0.5 tenderness, after the water prison.

nothing can consume you by tagteamme

Mo Ran’s violent history has never had to catch up to him.

It’s already embedded itself into him as scars on his body, as a tattoo on his forearm, as the lingering taste of blood in his sleep and finally, as the searing brand pressed against his chest before he’s thrown into the sea as punishment. He knows that this is where all his chances come to an end.

But as the deep fathom of the water swallows him up, something else saves him and pulls him to a tiny cove tucked away off the coast of an overlooked port town. When he wakes up under the care of a mythical creature wearing a familiar face, an even older and more distant past finally finds him.

#ranwan #2ha #erha #chu wanning #mo ran #2ha recs #fic recs #2ha spoilers

389 notes · View notes

earlgreydream · 4 years ago

Text

professor barnes.

| professor!bucky barnes x reader | smut | fluff |

don’t mind me, I’m fantasizing about bucky being my hot professor ✨

cw: this is obviously a professor au, so there’s that (please don’t hook up with your profs irl) and also like, slight innocent kink? but not really, mild degradation (not meant)

You were tapping your pen against your lips.

You were deep in thought, hanging off of every word your professor spoke. You listened intently, taking in everything Professor Barnes had to say about World War II history.

History fascinated you, but not near as much as your sexy professor did. James Buchanan Barnes was nothing if not criminally gorgeous. It was distracting.

You really did try to focus on history, but it was so hard when you were watching his soft, full lips move. Occasionally, he would run his fingers through his dark hair, his muscles flexing under the white button downs he always wore.

“Miss Y/N!”

You were snapped out of your thoughts, your pen falling from your fingers and clattering against your desk. It seemed to echo as all of the other students looked at you. Silver eyes bore into you, and you swallowed thickly.

“Professor? I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” You asked shyly. He looked at you for a moment before sighing.

“I asked who the leader of the Soviet Union was during World War II.”

“Joseph Stalin,” you answered, feeling sick to your stomach at his irritated tone.

“Thank you. Let’s try to pay attention for the rest of the lesson, yeah?”

Your face burned in shame, and a few of the girls smirked at his scolding.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded before he went back to his lecture.

You took notes and kept your head down the rest of the lecture, your penmanship a bit messy from your shaking hands. You closed your notebook and put it away as he ended the lecture, and students rushed out, eager to get to their lunch breaks.

You realized you were the last one left, and you stood, making your way through the empty desks.

“Y/N,” Professor Barnes said your name, and you stopped.

“I’m sorry-” both of you said at the same time, and you bit your lip, letting him continue.

“It wasn’t my intention to shame you.” He finished, and you looked into his silver eyes.

“I’m sorry that I got distracted. I’ll pay better attention next time... I usually do.”

“I know, you’re exceptionally intelligent, Y/N.”

You blushed at the praise, and he offered a small smile, putting you at ease. You thanked him before leaving, thoughts of him filling your mind the rest of the afternoon.

James couldn’t stop watching you. He was lecturing on the USSR, but part of his mind was on you. The way you listened to him, careful not to let yourself get called out again for being distracted. He noticed how you tapped your pen against your pink lips whenever you were in thought.

His mind wandered to your lips around him, though he caught himself and cleared his throat, letting a student speak about their research on Soviet Russia.

When you stood up, you smoothed our your miniskirt that drove him crazy. He imagined yanking it down your legs and bending you over his desk, teaching you to pay attention.

He was drawn back to reality by your sweet smile as you said goodbye as you headed out for the day. The image of your smile stuck in his head, and he couldn’t get you off his mind.

Professor Barnes was the subject of your dreams. You woke up in the middle of the night, after your subconscious had imagined him with his head between your legs, eating you out on top of your desk before class. Your cheeks heated furiously, and you took a cold shower, scrubbing your fantasies away.

You fidgeted in your seat, second guessing your choice of wearing a tight v-neck shirt. You felt silly. You had paired it with a short skirt, all in the hopes that your hot professor would notice you.

But why would he? You were just one of many students attempting to grab a few extra seconds of attention. You were running over your choice of outfit in your head as your professor passed papers back to all of the students.

He laid yours on your desk, and you noticed the lack of letter circled at the top. You were about to stop him when you realized there was a sticky note on the second page.

Please see me in my office after class. JBB

You looked up at him, but he didn’t glance at you as he handed other students their papers. You noticed nothing was marked on your paper, and you suddenly felt nervous.

Your heart was racing in your chest as you walked to his office, stopping by the bathroom to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror. You were sure it was fine, you would’ve gotten an email if you’d truly fucked up, alerting you ahead of time, you tried to convince yourself.

You knocked softly on the doorframe, leaning into his office. It was small and warm, filled with well-loved books and scattered notes of a chaotic mind. It smelled like coffee and books and leather, and everything about the small space seemed inviting.

“Y/N, come in.” Professor Barnes stood up, waving me inside. I stepped in anxiously, pushing the door shut behind me before taking a seat in the chair opposite his desk.

“I saw your note, in my paper. Is something wrong? There was no grade on it, and I’ve been worried...” you confessed, looking up into his silver gaze. He walked around and leaned against the desk in front of you, his hands gripping the edge.

“No, nothing is wrong. In fact, your paper is practically perfect. It’s incredibly written.” His words surprised you.

As he praised you, he looked down at your chest, shown off in your tight, low cut shirt. He wondered if you knew what you did to him, the effect you had. He acted as if he were deep in thought, covering up the fact he accidentally looked at your body a little too long.

“Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say, I had no idea,” you spoke, and calling him sir made his cock twitch, and his breath catch in his throat.

“Of course. I wanted to talk to you to see if you were interested in publishing it in the school’s academic journal.”

“Oh? I mean, if that’s an option, then yes.”

“I can submit it for you, you’d just need to sign off saying that you grant permission for publication.” He explained to you, and you nodded, signing the form he placed in front of you.

You blushed, thinking about how he was directly in front of you, his body stretched out, muscles on display with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Your entire body grew hot with embarrassment when he caught you staring.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” His voice was low and smooth, and you could’ve sworn he read your mind.

“Nothing, I’m...” You stammered, unsure of what to say.

“You’re what, fantasizing?”

Your eyes snapped up to him, and his confidence grew as he saw your thighs squeeze together, giving away your thoughts.

“Professor...” You must have misheard him, and he smirked at how flustered you were getting.

“Is that a yes?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. Wearing these little outfits and teasing me.”

He knew.

James knew he won when he saw realization flood your face.

“I wear them for you,” you admitted shyly, trying to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs as he gazed down at you.

“That’s what I thought, doll.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your fingers.

“What do you imagine me doing to you, pretty girl? Do you think about me taking off these little skirts?” He asked you, trailing his fingers along the hem, brushing against your thigh. You inhaled sharply, your head spinning at the touch. You nodded, making him smile as he leaned over you. His lips brushed against your cheekbone, and you felt him smirk against your skin.

“Tell me what you dream about, doll,” he whispered, and by now you were practically shaking.

“Now you’re going to be shy?” James teased, amused by how easily he made you nervous.

He stood abruptly when a knock sounded on the door, and he leaned back on the desk. Your eyes were wide, and you sat frozen, in shock.

“I’m finishing up with a student!” He called through the door.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” He asked, and you nodded, your breath hitching as he gently touched your face. You stood, and he opened the door for the other student.

“I’m sorry, I was just hoping to talk about my grade?” A girl asked, in tears, and he looked like he wanted to harm her for interrupting.

“Yes, come in then.” His tone was impatient, and you lingered in the doorway. James said your name, holding eye contact with you for a moment before going back to work, and you walked down the hallway in a daze.

You couldn’t believe what had just happened. You felt like you were dreaming, your erotic fantasies coming true. You weren’t able to focus on your work, and you went home for the remainder of the day.

When it came time for his class again, you wore a short dress with little straps, wanting to show off as much as possible for him.

Your heart and mind raced as you entered his classroom, and you smiled innocently when his eyes fell on you. The silver darkened, and he watched you move to your seat, and you squirmed under the heavy gaze.

James watched as you uncrossed your legs, catching a flash of the lace beneath your dress. He sat down behind his desk, trying to collect himself and tear his focus off of you.

He was thankful that there was no lecture today, only a short quiz before he sent everybody home. You bit the top of your pen as you thought about the answers on the sheet below you, and Bucky studied your mouth. Your cheeks warmed, feeling the heat of his intense stare, adjusting slightly under the pressure.

Finally, you looked up at him, and leaned forward on your desk so more of your chest was visible. On purpose. He cleared his throat, making several students glance at him, and you had to make yourself bite back a smirk.

Everyone dropped their quizzes on his desk, leaving once they finished. You were the last one done, and you set yours on top of the pile.

“Would you like to finish our conversation from Monday in my office?” Professor Barnes asked you calmly, and you nodded.

He walked behind you, making you lead the way to his office. You knew he was staring at your ass, barely covered by the dress you wore, and you turned as you heard the office door close behind you.

You dropped your bag and hopped up to sit on top of his desk. He tossed his own bag aside and clicked the lock on his door, letting his eyes slowly move over your body.

“Y/N, what am I going to do to you? You wore this slutty little dress to distract me, didn’t you?” He teased, walking to stand in front of you.

“Yes, professor. Do you like it?” You looked up at him for approval, and his small laugh graced your ears.

His fingers went to the thin straps resting on top of your shoulders, grazing down over your breasts before tweaking your nipples through the thin fabric.

You squealed softly, feeling chills throughout your body as he lightly pinched you, toying with you through the dress.

“Are you sensitive, doll?” He asked, and you nodded, your cheeks rosy at your eagerness.

“I’ve been thinking about you, and not been able to do anything about it, and I’m all pent up.” You offered an explanation for your sensitivity, and his eyes nearly rolled back from the innocent way you spoke to him. He wanted to absolutely tear you up and ruin you, and make you fall apart at his touch.

“Let’s see if I can help then,” he slipped the straps off of your shoulders, the dress falling down around your waist.

At the sight of your bare chest in front of him, an audible noise of need left his throat. Your professor knelt down in front of you, wrapping his lips around your sensitive skin. Your chest rose and fell quickly with your heavy breathing, and his hand squeezed and fondled the side that wasn’t in his mouth.

“Please!” You were nearly desperate, feeling your arousal begin to drip down your thighs as you grew more and more needy.

“Tell me what you want, doll.”

“I need you to fuck me,” you didn’t care about the embarrassment anymore, and he smiled as he left heavy kisses down the column of your throat.

He couldn’t draw out the teasing anymore. He was painfully hard and the sight of you alone and your filthy words were driving him wild.

You had managed to undo the buttons of his shirt, revealing an incredibly toned chest, and he undid his belt, pulling it easily from the loops. He snapped it as he tossed it aside, and you jumped at the noise, making him smirk.

“Maybe we can try that another time,” he watched an anticipatory shudder ripple down your spine.

“Do I get an A for this?” You teased, undoing the button and zip on his pants, tugging them down along with his underwear.

“Very cute,” he smacked your thigh lightly in response, making you jerk at the touch.

He slipped the dress over your head, discarding it along with his own clothing, leaving you in just lace panties on his desk.

He traced his fingertips over the damp lace, making you squirm on the desktop. You rolled your hips forward, eager for stimulation. He hummed disapprovingly at the action, pulling his touch away.

His hands held your waist as he carefully laid you down on the cleared wooden desktop, and you looked up at the stunning man above you.

“Please don’t tease me anymore, professor. I want you to fuck my pussy, please,” you begged, and he removed the lace in one quick movement.

“Relax, doll, I’m going to take care of you,” James answered gently, kissing down your body.

He hands wrapped around your thighs and he pulled you so that you were at the edge of the desk, your feet on top of the surface so you were spread open for him.

He leaned down and connected your lips, consuming you in a deep kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers lightly began to rub at your clit, making sure you were relaxed enough to take him in.

“I need you to be quiet beautiful, so all the students outside don’t hear those pretty screams for me.” He warned, kissing a line down your jaw.

“Yes, sir.”

“Fuck.”

You felt him brush his tip against your entrance before thrusting into you, and you struggled to adjust around him as he bottomed out. You held in a loud cry, arching your back, and pushing your chest up into his face as you did so.

Your breath hitched as he rocked into you, and he thrusted a bit faster, hitting all the deep places inside of you. He watched you struggle to ground yourself, your hands eventually holding his thick arms as he slammed into you repeatedly. You were smooth and tight around him, squeezing and contracting as he hit your g-spot.

“James, fuck,” the profanity tumbled from your pretty lips as his hips connected with yours. He wrapped a hand around your throat, keeping you down but not quite choking you.

The action caused you to spasm around him, and your hands wrapped around his wrist, keeping his hand around your neck.

“Do you like that? Do you like me holding you down by your throat? You dirty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathed softly under his grip, your thighs trembling weakly around his waist. You started to shake as waves of pleasure overwhelmed your body.

“Are you close?” He knew the answer, but he enjoyed seeing you fight to try to form words through the fucked-out haze that had settled in your mind.

“Answer me doll, or I’m going to stop,” James threatened, and you nodded.

“Yes, I’m so close!” Your soft whine was like music to him, and he dropped his free hand between the two of you.

He kept up his thrusts while playing with your clit, trying to pull your orgasm from you. He could feel your muscles tighten and threaten to snap around him, and you just needed a little help letting go. You were begging him softly, your eyes bleary as you cried for release. James wanted to feel you come around him, and was more than happy to help, squeezing lightly around your throat and pinching your nerves, the combination causing the pressure to snap. Your vision sparkled with color, electricity shooting through every nerve ending in your body. You threw your head back from the pleasure, and a hard thrust into your g-spot sent you spiraling into euphoria.

You came around him with a silent scream, and he struggled not to follow suit, and fill up your warm pussy. He released you as he felt you ride out the end of your orgasm, and he pulled out, coming all over your torso in several white ribbons.

You watched him in a daze, and once he finished, he gave you another quick kiss. You sighed softly, exhaustion starting to set in. His gentle smile made warmth spread over your body, and for a moment you forgot that you were lying naked on top of his desk.

He cleaned himself before cleaning you up, being gentle with you.

“Y’alright?” James asked, smiling at your soft yawn. You nodded, pulling the lace back up your legs and reaching for your dress. He handed it to you once you sat up, and helped you fix it.

Your fingers slipped the buttons of his shirt back in their holes, despite the fact that your hands were still a bit shaky. You felt all worn out, feeling like you could sleep for days and ride the dreamy feeling that was left in your mind.

He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips as you held his arm when you stood up, trying to steady yourself. You looked up at him shyly, and he placed his hand on your lower back.

“For the next time.” Professor Barnes said, putting his number in your phone before giving you a kiss.

588 notes · View notes

burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

caught

— You’re caught in a web after flying a little bit too recklessly and along comes your one and only savior who requests a little help from you too as the price of freeing you.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: naga!kirishima eijirou x fem fairy!reader

warnings: fairy!reader, naga!kirishima, smut, 18+, coercion, dubcon, hypnotism, oviposition, double penetration, begging, heat/rut, size diff

word count: 4,004

a/n: BAHAHA I wrote this in like 3 hours because I decided to instead watch some soul eater last night & I like it so far! ah, well, ive never actually read naga fics before, or oviposition,,, so fair warning, enjoy! also, read the damn warnings.

kinktober day 7 main kink: size difference

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The world was a magical one.

The planet was crawling with mythological creatures steaming from the smallest of pixies to the largest Kraken. The world was full of mystery, wonder, and adventure. Fire breathing dragons and cursed powerful swords were hidden away from the few humans and elves to discover. As in any civilization, there were those who got along and those who didn’t.

Some species of creatures got along with everyone, there were others that were feared beyond reason, and a few that were loved for moments and feared for others.

You were a fairy.

And you were tiny.

Standing no more than three apples high, you had iridescent wings that curled and shone in the glimmering light whenever you so much as moved. You were a good fairy, you always have been. You were often found assisting with a multitude of mythical creatures and humans on quests and as companions. Despite your small stature, you were fast, zipping, and gliding faster than most could ever dare to catch up with.

You loved your wings, loved flying, loved having the wind whistling through your ears while you dove between branches and branches, laughing while your pixie friends failed to keep up with you. Your mother had always fluttered her wings in annoyance and partial anger when you were younger and would often outspeed her, leaving her screaming your name while she desperately tried to keep up.

What could you say? You were a daring fairy, an adventurous one at that too.

But she always warned you, even back then, of the dangers of being a small, tiny, pretty fairy who flew at speeds much faster than you should be capable of.

The wind whipped against your face, stinging at your nose, chapping your lips, and whooshing through your ears as you grew faster and faster. The traces of magic falling from your wings creating a beautiful, sparkling trail behind you as you whooped out in excitement and thrill.

“Slow down, y/n!” your friends screamed from what sounded like many trees behind you, and like the daring showoff you were, you cork spiraled around a set of hanging branches with a loud laugh.

But as you straightened out, ready to move onward, you realized that something, thick, heavy, and sticky had caught onto the tip of your wing, and you catapulted backward.

A spider’s web.

Even in a world of fantasy and mystery, spiders existed to catch flying pests, and to some, you were just that.

Panic consumed you, white fire coursing through every magical vein in your body as you thrashed and shook in the webs. Your hands grabbed onto the sticky strands around your wings, a desperate attempt to free yourself only to find yourself even more tightly wound up in the damp, near-transparent threads.

A pathetic whimper left your mouth, your head dropping to your chest as silent, hot tears streamed down your cheeks. Your wings fluttered weakly, looking nothing too far from the insects and flies you were so used to seeing caught up in these webs. You strained your ears, trying to listen to the few pixies you had been flying and playing with, but even with your immense speed advantageous over them, you knew that they should be near.

But nothing.

You sat there on the web for minutes that seemed to bleed into hours, silently waiting for your friends to come and save you… but it seemed for naught.

…

“Help…”

“Please help…”

You had been trapped for hours.

Each passing second both dooming you to a life as spider food for the Arachne that had still yet to return home. Or maybe possibly a snack for any large creature that may pass, or an undeserving elf or human plucking you free and demanding to use their powers on a quest you would never approve of. That, or maybe you’d die of hunger.

There was no stopping the growl in your stomach or the parched dryness of your throat for your desperate, pathetic cry of help.

But it seemed that when your friends not-your-friends anymore said this part of the forest was for the most part void of all pixie and fairy eating creatures, it seemed that it was just void of all creatures. Pouting, you felt another rush of frustrating tears well up in your eyes, your cheeks huffing and face steaming as soft chimes of bells erupted from you while you seemingly threw a temper tantrum, not one-second closer from freedom.

Your breathing turned sharper, heavier, and overall shallow. In a flash of fury, you thrummed your wings as fast as you could, trying your best to fly out of this entrapment. To your slight excitement, you managed to loosen the webs around your wings for just a moment, your smile bursting oh so prematurely onto your face before it all went wrong again. As if the web was alive as well, it seemed to suddenly stiffen and drag you back into its sticky confines only for you to be even more trapped onto the mass web.

Like a broken dam, the tears streaming down your face were stinging, plentiful, and unable to stop.

You mourned the end of your life like this, so pathetic, so absolutely stupid way to go: caught on a spiderweb.

“Now, now, little one, why are you crying?” came a voice so soft yet incredibly loud voice, and you stiffened straight despite having a potential savior.

You couldn’t see them, and with how the web was wrapped around you, you couldn’t even dare to turn your head around to stare at them. You couldn’t look at him, sure, but you knew just through the tenor and low thunder of his voice that your potential savior or wolf in sheep’s clothing was undoubtedly a robust, powerful mythological creature.

Despite the way his voice seemed to whisper in your ears, you heard the familiar noise of someone moving through the grounds of the forest. The fallen dead leaves that scattered on the floor crackling with his movement. You trembled although you didn’t make a noise, not even a small bell chime of your wings.

“Are you in need of assistance, little one?” he continued to ponder as if blind to the was you oh so very not discreetly clammed up at the sudden sound of his voice. “If you so require it, I would be more than willing to assist you in your freedom. It pains me to see such a beautiful, full of potential little fairy go to waste.”

The tongue in your mouth felt pathetically dry, your chest rising and collapsing at incredible speeds for someone of your composition of size.

“Oh, are you fearful of me, little one?” he seemed to laugh, finding your fear to be humorous, comical, really. “Most individuals at least wait until they peer into my eyes to find themselves unwilling to move or speak.”

The web shook with the vibrations of his voice. And you whined at the back of your throat as that small fact merely confirmed the size of the male creature standing behind you. You found yourself fearful of that playful tone on his voice, but you also knew that as a tiny fairy, you were quite foolish in fear when found in predicaments such as this one. You had to trust the creature behind you should you wish to escape.

“W-Would you mind freeing me?” you asked, making an attempt to sound powerful and in control despite the tremor on your lower lip and the way your voice was near childish in comparison to his own. How you actually thought fairies sounded on the same pitch as to many creatures before was beyond you, for at the moment, you deemed yourself to be no greater than a child speaking to an old man. “I was trapped while racing, and well, these frisky spiderwebs are quite the worst at capturing things that don’t deserve to be captured.”

Oh? Is that so?” his voice chuckled. His body, without a doubt, moments from yours if the way the gentle breath of his laugh brushed against your neck had anything to say about it. “I’ve always been told that they’re especially good at capturing pests.”

You flustered.

“Yet here we are!” you pathetically countered, your wings fluttering in your distress. “If you wouldn’t mind freeing me, I would greatly appreciate it!”

“But, of course,” he spoke with great pride, and you shuddered when warm, large finger seemed to easily scoop you out from the webs. Your wings fluttered when the tight restraints of the traps were done, but not entirely freed from your beautiful wings. “Relax your wings, little one, I know you’re antsy to move, but there are still a great number of leftover webs on those wings of yours. Relax, I promise you no harm as I take these webs off.”

You shivered as his warm, strong fingers worked the plenty of sticky strands of webs off of you as if they were nothing but flyaway thread used for clothing. Speaking of clothing, you peered down at the daisy and red dandelion seed dress you wore, your eyes wide with the hope that it hadn’t been ruined. You loved this outfit. But as you peered down at your cotton shoes, you froze when you finally took in the hand you were resting upon.

It was huge.

Without a doubt, his palm was the size of your entire body, the fingers long and thick with intimidating claws that demanded a bit of concern.

“There, all done,” he hummed, and you shook your wings, looking at the thing iridescent wings that made you a fairy, and you felt him turn his hand around where you rested. Your eyes, already wide with the looming dread in your stomach, seemed to become saucers the size of the moon when you came face to face with a naga.

Nagas, half-snake half-human, were a few creatures in this world that were both loved and hated by others — your kind included.

His scales were black, glinting red under the setting copper sun, and he was absolutely massive. You had seen nagas only a handful of times, three to be honest, but each other those times, you knew that they were hardly more massive than humans. But this male naga before you was enormous as he was solid. Rippling muscles on every exposed part of his human body and his snake bottom were large, thick, full of rippling coiling muscles that could probably strangle anyone who attempted to fight him. He had full, spikey red hair, scars on his arms, and one splitting his eyebrow. His red, slitted eyes seemed vast, cunning, and terrifying while he lifted you up to eye level. And his smile, oh his smile. Jagged, sharp teeth with lips pulled into a cunning, just a bit too sweet smile.

Naga, for the most part, were peaceful creatures. They were strong fighters, fierce protectors, all due to the fact that they were just so much larger than their co-inhabititors of the world, but they were peaceful. They slithered about most of the year, helping those who came and went, but there were moments in the year where they were of concern.

During the late spring, early summer, they were hit with their heats and ruts. Powerful naga soon filled with the lusting, overwhelming desire to shove their fertile eggs into anything that would hold them. Nagas, who mated with nagas, were known to have wrestled as their mating dance, almost wiping out many towns in their horny, hot desires, and you froze suddenly feeling the thick waves of heat coming off the naga before you.

“W-Well, thank you!” you stammered, your body bowing lowly for the naga before you whose splitting smile was becoming stamped in your brain. “I appreciate you freeing me, but I must go now. Supper is waiting for me!”

“What’s your name, little one?” the naga instead asked, his clawed finger caressing your cheek so softly, so accurately, you nearly thought he was set on taking off your head. “I would like to know the name of the beautiful fairy I saved today.”

There was power in knowing names in this world, fairy names especially, so you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach on account to this, or the way fear stimulated every cell in your body.

“I-I can’t um, I can’t tell you,” you whimpered when his thick, large finger hooked underneath your chin to raise your head.

“Ah, it’s okay, little one, I promise I won’t do you wrong,” he promised, the lure in his voice — an advantage that nagas held in their times of heat. His voice was a warm blanket, smoothly pulling your eyes closed, making your wings flutter in your lulling excitement. “You can trust me.”

“Trust… you?” you spoke, mimicking his words, feeling like you were swimming in a warm, gooey honey trap. You bit down on your lower lip, heat rushing to your face as you stared upon his still cunning, sly grin as he traced his massive finger down from your wet, pouty lower lip to your hip. “I don’t… I can’t stay for longer?”

“Is that a question on your tone, little one?” he asked, his forked tongue flicking through his pointed teeth. “Can’t you stay? I have a favor to ask of you.”

A heavy, pitchy moan broke through your mouth as the tip of his claw dragged from your navel to your suddenly blistering core. Were you always this wet? How did you get so wet?

“But I…” you struggled to think, your eyes shut tightly, face twisting as you tried to figure out where you were needed right now. “I need to go… somewhere?”

“Somewhere?” he asked, voice light, buttery smooth. “I thought you were coming with me?”

“I… was?”

“Yes, little one, look at me,” he kissed the air, and you found your eyes pressing open, your jaw dropping when his piercing red eyes hypnotizing you. “Open those pretty little legs for me, I want to see if you’re fit enough to be my dam, my mate.”

Why that sent bubbling gasps from your tongue and sent your legs apart was beyond you, but it just seemed like the right thing to do. He had called you his mate… his dam.

His finger shoved between your legs, gently rubbing the massive finger that was probably nearly your height between your legs, catching onto your clit, sending resonating, shaking mewls from your throat. You collapsed forward, hips rutting back against his finger, your tiny fingers holding onto his knuckles, your eyes fluttering in this euphoria.

It felt so good.

So good, so good, “please more!”

You sobbed at the feeling of his finger coming up to allow more friction between you and your throbbing cunt, the bone of his knuckle-dragging so deliciously, so roughly against your throbbing clit that you started to feel weak in your knees.

“Call me Kirishima,” he growled, his finger flipping underneath you so that the pad of his finger could now press onto your clit, gathering your dripping slick as he does so. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

“Ei,” you spluttered, eyes barely open to watch the way his slitted pupils were dilated with his lust, the smell he was emitting without a doubt one of an alpha male plunging further within his rut. “This feels so good, please give meeeEE ahhh, oh god, give me more!”

Kirishima growled out a peal of chilling laughter, one that had your wings fluttering in their heavy, lucid attempt to fly and kiss the man that could swallow your entire body as if you were nothing more than a potato chip to him. You keened, one of your hands shakily removing themselves from his finger, stretching out to him.

“Kiss me, please kiss me,” you beg, your heaving breathes almost in synch with your wildly bucking hips.

“You want a kiss?” he hummed, bringing your tiny body close enough to tease you, but not near enough for you to plant a desperate, small kiss to his smooth, curling large lips. “Promise me two things.”

“Anything,” you promised, watching as his forked tongue flashed between his teeth, his eyes flashing with his shaking control on the situation. Your cheeks scorched at the sight of him wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. The dam in you jittering at the knowledge that he was a good mate, a good person by holding back, trying to keep his control before giving in. But you wanted him as deep as you were. You wanted to feel his finger intruding your clenching, spasming walls, to try and take on his undoubtedly huge cock.

You wanted to try it.

You wanted him.

“Anything you want, I will give you!” you shriek with promise, your clit feeling numb from the overstimulation and lack of release as you could not reach it without penetration.

“Your name,” Kirishima growled, his lips dangerously close. “And promise to carry my — our children.”

“I promise, I promise, I promise!” you frantically claim, knowing you would do it all just for his lips against yours, and finally, he was close enough, his bottom lip nearly the size of your entire face as you kissed him again and again.

His lips were pursed, allowing your frantic kisses to have lain all over his awaiting soft lips. You shuddered at the electric sensation coursing through you with every second, and your wings fluttered in your excitement, bringing you up into the air, lifting you off his palm.

“Your name?” he commanded, the hand you abandoned running a taloned finger down the spine of your back, pleasantly, orgasmically feeling as he reached the spot between your sensitive wings. You loved the feeling and keened against his mouth.

“Y/l/n y/n!”

“And you will have my children?”

“Yes!”

A possessive, all encompassing cross between a growl and a hiss slipped through his lips, and you looked down with your lust dipped eyes to see the two, twisted cocks he was rutting into his free hand. You cried at the fact that it wasn’t your cunt the sharp, near hook looking tip of his cock wasn’t ramming into.

“Where do you think you’re going, little one?” Kirishima snarked, his eyes bright and humorous as he caught you by your wings. You moaned loudly at the lusting pull of your wings that you could feel pulsing into your core. “You’re not ready for my cock or eggs just yet.”

“But I wanna…” you cry, fingers stretching out toward the two writhing cocks that seemed to call your name. “I wanna try!”

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, his hand that was not occupied with his massive cocks releasing your wings and gently stroking your face. “It’s okay, it’s okay, you can try in a bit. I just don’t want my little one splitting in half before she’s been made useful!”

Your pouting and mouthwatering person turned to face Kirishima again, whose once red eyes were completely black in his rutting lust.

“Split in half?” you echoed, a slight pain pinching your pussy, the thought of being split in two for those cocks not quite as horrendous as it should be. “Will I be?”

“Not if you stretch yourself out first,” Kirishima corrected, entirely missing your slight hope to be torn in half by his cock. “I want to see you fuck yourself on my finger at first. Do that, and I’ll let you sit on my cock and birth my eggs.”

A chill ran down your back, and you nodded, suddenly more than willing to throw yourself onto anything he would give you to prove yourself. And with his free hand, he presented his long ring finger whose talon was missing, most likely gone from some sort of battle.

But it didn’t matter. It was enough for you to prove yourself.

Fluttering over to his finger, you dropped the small panties you owned onto his exposed palm before placing your sopping cunt right above his extended finger. You lowered yourself onto the tip, spreading your essence slick against his skin, your eyes unabashedly half-lidded as you watched the muscles in his arm pick up speed as you made eye contact with the excited naga.

And with a twirl of your hips and a moan that vibrated straight through your chest, you sank onto his finger.

It truly did feel like his splitting you in half. You recognized immediately at the way your walls nearly couldn’t keep up with how he opened you up. His finger was already giant within your spongey, tight walls. The heat and the callouses of his appendage unreplicable as you silently screamed, your walls spasming tightly around him, an orgasm taking you out without warning. You heaved, exhaustion ticking your brain as the soft bounces you made to further his finger up your cunt making you whine. He was huge, his finger huge. But you liked the fullness it brought you, the way you struggled not to send yourself flying off his finger like some rocket while you continued to fuck yourself against him.

You could do it, you could do it.

Soft wet noises filled the air as Kirishima’s aggressive stroking of his leaking cocks, and the way his finger seemed to be so loud in your tight cavern filled the forest.

More, give him more.

Pressing the collar of your outfit down, your legs wrapped around his finger as you continued to fuck yourself up and down his finger while your hands groped and pinched at your breasts, your eyes rolling back in your horny excitement. You could feel your orgasm growing again. You could tell by the clenching quivering of your spongey, velvet walls against his finger that you were close yet again.

“Fuck, little one, you’re taking my finger so well,” Kirishima sang in his praise, his snake tail coiling and thrashing wildly beneath the both of you, and you longed to feel the snake scales beneath your blazing core too. “Are you ready for my cock? I’m so close, so close. You made me like this, little one, so fucking hot, so sexy, fuck.”

You mewl loudly, your body well aware of the lewd scene he was creating with the way he wrangled his twin cocks in his hand. Your head dropped backward, a high pitched wail shooting through you when his finger moved within you, and you nodded your head as quickly as you could. Your legs relaxing around him as Kirishima quickly picked you off his finger, and without even three seconds of being empty again, two sharp, writhing cocks slammed within your cunt.

You staggered against his hold, body convulsing at the feeling of his snake cock flicking and twirling within your womb, stimulating the puffy, wet walls that were erratically beating, as the both of you came with loud, joint moans.

White filled your vision as your wet juices splattered down his cock, and the weirdest, almost constipating feeling filled you as solid, cold, and round objects filled your womb. Making the drool in your mouth dribble down the corner of your mouth as your eyes crossed.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four eggs.

Four eggs for you to grow, four kids you would have with Kirishima, and you sobbed in elation.

“I can feel them, Ei!” you sobbed, content with the babies he just gave you, already expanding your tiny little stomach to the optimal length it could reach. “Our babies!”

Kirishima chuckled, removing your from his cock and placing your pregnant little tiny body onto his shoulder, a sign that he would protect you through anything and everything.

“I can’t wait until they hatch, little one.”

And with that, he nuzzled against your face. And you vibrated in your happiness, more than willing to take on the world as Kirishima continued forward in the world. There was no looking back now.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #tw: dubcon

1K notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

commercial break ; SIX

this is part of my netflix & chill series this is foreshadowing for the next fic 👀

summary; Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. warnings; smut in the forms of riding, penetration, soft sex rating; mature (18+) misceallenous; jungkook thinks a lot.... and they're not always pg things... word count; 1.8k

notes; i have been neglecting my og jk dream team couple so here we are! anyway please look [ here ] and remember this face ....

He’s never minded taking the reins before, but there’s something distinctly carnal that flashes in Jungkook’s chest when you ask to ride him that morning. The sun filtering in through the window beside him captures the entirety of your beauty on top of him, endless expanses of soft skin and dips and curves. “Pretty,” he sighs, hands on your hips. You’re so tired but so gorgeous, supple breasts bouncing in his face, eyelashes kissing your cheeks with each sleepy blink. Rarely do you push him down like this, hands on his chest as you whimper and grind yourself to completion, but Jungkook certainly wasn’t complaining.

In all the time he’s known you, Jungkook’s become quite familiar with your sexual prowess. You liked to play the opposite game with him, seduce him and push him until he snapped and took you over a table or cuffed you to a bed, all blessed experiences that he treasures very much. He loved how you sounded bent over the kitchen counter, or shoved against the sheets. If Jungkook had to pinpoint the exact moment his horniness skyrocketed, it was definitely the second his name left your lips in a breathy little whimper. He adored you and your body, liked taking care of you.

But every now and then… he liked to be pampered.

Jungkook enjoyed pushing you down, indulging you in all your little fantasies, but he too had some he wanted to live out. Blindfolding you and having you cum on a riding crop was definitely the highest on the list and that was done; after that incident he’s woken many a night with a rock hard cock in his sleep shorts like some dorky teenager fantasizing about his girlfriend. And on the nights you didn’t sleep over, he was forced to fend for himself, the tape recorder in his brain recalling every single thing that had happened that night.

But now it was time to move onto the next, and that next bullet point on his imaginary list was letting you fuck yourself on his cock with no help at all.

Most times you rode him you tended to give up halfway through. You started off strong, overexcited glint in your eyes as you rabidly fucked yourself on him. But your natural pillow princess tendencies (no shade) always won over, always had you softly begging him to help. He’s always been more than happy to, especially if it meant coming sooner, but sometimes Jungkook just wanted to be used. Wanted to be pushed down and taken advantage of, especially if that was at your hands. It was a concept that probably went against everything your sexual relationship was built upon; him being the submissive one was about as rare as you not play-fighting back. And still, Jungkook wanted more than anything in the world to see that side of you, that femdom, as Doyeon had so meanly teased him about once.

So here he is, partially living that fantasy as you slide up and down on his cock. You’ve got one hand on his lower abdomen, the other on the top of a thigh, working yourself against him lazily. It’s not at the intensity of Jungkook’s dreams, but it sure is a sight. “B-Bend your knee for me, honey,” you pant, and Jungkook does, pulling his leg up until you’re sloppily using it as leverage to bounce on him. “G-Good boy,” you rasp.

It’s that word, that wretched word that makes something in Jungkook go soft, throw the past year of training out the window. He likes to think he’s in charge— he is —but every now and then you use that word against Jungkook and it’s like everything is reversed and always has been. Like it’s always been you leading sex, you telling him how good he is, and not the other way around.

He groans, tightens his hands on your hips as you continue bouncing away. Every glide of your warm folds around his cock makes his heart lurch, makes him want to bury himself inside of you and never leave. Jungkook would never admit it to your or anyone, but there was this rather clingy side of him that reared its ugly head when you were involved. He never wants anyone else to see you like this, never wants anyone else to feel you like this, which is where his spiraling begins.

You see, below that being-pushed-down-by-my-girlfriend point was another, slightly overlooked point, that entrenched upon dangerous, almost taboo territory. And that was stuffing you full of his cum— off birth control —and watching you swell and swell until there was no way you couldn’t be pregnant. And Jungkook, for some odd reason, wanted that really badly.

A soft groan above him, a lazy smile on your face as you reach down to idly toy with your clit, pussy flush against the base of his cock now. He knows better than to tell you to move because it’ll break this tender moment, this unique experience of you using him like some glorified dildo like he so desperately wanted sometimes. So he shuts his lips, goes back to that other fantasy that is only fueled by the soft swell of your tits when you move.

God, they would get so big, he thinks. Would be so round, just like the rest of you, and bursting with milk. It’s for the baby, for the baby, he tells himself, but there’s image in his head, this so terribly wrong image, of him suckling your breasts, holding your waist as the milk drips down his chin and over your skin, senses overwhelmed as he does something he’s definitely not supposed to. But you’d be so sweet, his mind says, would be so sweet and... full of life.

Above him, you giggle deliriously, sweat dripping down the slope of your neck. For a second he wonders if you’ve somehow tapped into his thoughts, seen all his perverted fantasies, but then you’re looking at him with that adoring gaze that makes his heart burst. “Pretty boy,” you tease, rolling your hips forward until that cute little button above your slit is grinding against him.

Yes, he certainly was your pretty boy, your good boy— he was whatever boy you wanted him to be. Why? Because he was so in love with you that the mere thought of you not being his and him not being yours made him gag. He just wanted you, so soft and warm around him, for the rest of his life. Maybe a belly? Maybe a child? Jungkook wanted it all, and his dick throbs at the mere idea of you possibly giving him that and more.

He was completely lost in his thoughts, never to be seen again.

A muffled whimper, so airy that it takes Jungkook a moment to realize it came from him. He’s too riled up to feel embarrassed, simply rolls his head from side to side as you clench those puffy walls around him. “C-Cum inside?” he pants, “can I— can I cum inside?” You lean forward; the tip of his engorged cock brushes against a sensitive spot inside of you, pulling a sinful moan from your lips. “P- Please?”

You smile, so pretty and sweet, it makes his dick twitch. “Of course,” you murmur, small hand on the side of his face, hips rolling rhythmically. “Wh- what’s that thing you said the other day?” you shiver, sleek skin catching the rays of the sun perfectly. A glittering highlight decorates your body, and that only tightens the coil in his stomach until it’s springing up with insane force. “Baby?”

“Yes?” he grunts, every muscle fiber in his body needed to hold even the smallest semblance of self control.

A giggle from you as he dazedly looks up. “Not you,” you chuckle, leaning down to sweetly peck him on the lips. It’s so soft and gentle, just like everything else about you. It takes everything in his body to keep him stable. “Remember?” you purr, hot breathe flush against his skin. “You wanted to put a baby in me.”

His hips jerk, a moan spilling from his lips that he doesn’t catch fast enough. “N-No,” he mewls, turning his face away from you like maybe it’ll prolong his orgasm, maybe it’ll lessen the aching heat around his cock. He can’t possibly hear those words from your lips, not when he knows you’re on birth control and that that notion is physically impossible right now. It’ll plant a terrible seed in his head, ruin Jungkook for weeks.

But you’re nothing if not persistent, forcing yourself down against him as he begins violently blushing, trying to mask his excitement. “Baby?” you repeat, as if he’s a puppy hearing the words ‘outside;’ fuck it, Jungkook thinks, he was whatever you wanted him to be. “Wanna fuck a baby into me, Jungkookie?” you exhale, hot breath against his ear. His hips spasm a second time, send you rolling down his cock with those perky nipples flush against his chest. “Mmmh, come on, honey… need you to work for it.”

And work Jungkook does.

His hands wrap around your frame, pull you flush against his body. Feet against the bed, thighs tense, he begins rapidly thrusting up into the warm entrance of your pussy, where yours and his cum seep out together. It’s slippery and wet, but not wet enough — he wants to feel his cum around himself, feel it bulge inside your stomach until you physically can’t hold anymore. “G-Good boy,” you whine, lips raining down featherlight smooches along his jawline. “Doing so good for me, honey—“

You’re cut off by the earth-shattering orgasm that consumes Jungkook, an almost feral groan that tears itself from his throat. “Mine, mine,” he sobs, doesn’t recognize his own voice in his ears. “Gonna be mine.”

A stuttered reply as your juices join his, leak down his softening cock until the sticky sweet fluid makes him feel dirty. It’s not even 8 AM yet and he’s already covered in cum. But it’s worth it when you lean back with that pretty smile, push his damp hair away from his sweaty face with the practiced touch of an angel. “Did you like that?” you ask softly, not making to move off of him. In fact, Jungkook swears you squeeze around his quickly limpening cock.

Any other woman he thinks he might have been embarrassed, die from humiliation of presenting her with a soft dick. But with you, it’s comfortable. It’s sweet and soft, your silky folds milking the last of his cum straight out of his cock. Jungkook whimpers, head bobbing at your question. You cup his face in your hands, fingers like butterflies against his skin. He swears he could transcend right now.

Another languid kiss, tongue lazily toying with his until his mouth feels heavy from the saliva you push down his throat. The light filtering in through the window paints your skin in soft colors, makes him feel so warm and loved; he could die like this and not feel an inch of remorse.

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts smut #mine

1K notes · View notes

lesbobiwan · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!!! Congratulations on 100 followers 👏🎉🎉 could I request 79 with torrent company? Or any other clone groups that you have in mind 😳👉👈 (also i wanna say your wrecker fic is 🔥🔥🍆💦😩😩 so good🙏)

thank you so much!!!! thank u so much about that comment for my wrecker fic that was my first time writing for him and i was very nervous!!

#79: “Look at you, grinding against everything, you’re really desperate for it. Aren’t you?” + Torrent Company (this is my first time writing group sex so i hope its okay haha)

warnings: group sex, hair pulling, a little bit of manhandling, some degradation so pls be aware if thats not ur thing, p in v sex, a little bit of anal fingering, spit roasting (whew)

You would have never imagined yourself in this position. At least, not without a hefty amount of alcohol.

Yet, here you are, stone cold sober, surrounded by a group of men you've fantasied about for months.

Had it not been for the aching bite on your neck left behind by Fives, you would have thought you were dreaming.

Jesse's hand fists in the back of your hair, pulling your head back to showcase the length of your neck, "You're not getting bored, are you?" he teases, grinding the length of his cock against your ass.

"No," you shudder against him, rolling your hips back against him. His hot mouth was making it hard to focus on anything in front of you, which was a damn shame because it's not everyday that you have four naked men in front of you.

Smack!

Echo's hand makes contact against the meat of your inner thigh, sending your world into stark focus. The haze from Jesse's mouth clears away at the shock of pain.

"Then why don't you tell us what Jesse asked you?" Kix asks, hand pumping his cock as his eyes narrow on Jesse's thigh slipping between your legs.

Immediately, you grind down against the muscle of his thigh, whining high in your throat at the friction.

"You don't know?" Fives asks, hand shooting out to grab your jaw. The tips of two fingers slip into your mouth, pressing hard against your tongue. "You too cock dumb already to tell us what Jesse said?"

Heat floods your face. It should be embarrassing. All of these men hearing you get called cock dumb and watch you rub your cunt like a shameless whore with someone's fingers in your mouth should make you want to curl up and die. All it really does is make you want more.

You shake your head as best you can with Fives hand around your jaw and fingers in your mouth. You don't know what Jesse asked you, you want to confess, I just want someone to touch me.

Jesse's thigh disappears from between your legs just as soon as it appeared. "Good girls don't get to rub themselves off when they can't answer simple questions," he whispers in your ear before pushing you not unkindly to the bed.

You gasp as your body bounces across the mattress. The comforter is fluffy enough to press against your clit when you sit up. Bolts of pleasure race up your spine as your drag your clit across the mattress.

"Fuck," you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands fist in the covers and you grind down harder.

If they won't touch you, then you'll have to do it yourself.

You're leaving a sticky spot on the covers behind you, and the feeling of the fabric catching on your clit is the only thing you can focus on. It's as if everything else in the room has faded from existence and and it's only you and your impending release.

You're so close to coming that you don't even realize the scratch of a chair sliding against the wood of your apartment floors. You don't notice how the rest of the men have fallen silent.

There's only you and your release that's building building building —

One hand tangles in your hair and lifts.

Your eyes flew open and you ragged gasp echoes through the room. Your hands fly up to grab at the wrist holding you up.

Rex stares back at you.

He's been silent enough since the night started that you might be able to say you forget he was here, but that would be a lie. Rex's presence was heavy in the room, and you knew it was an unspoken rule that the other men would do nothing without Rex's say so.

"Look at you," Rex breathes, dark gaze trailing down your heaving breasts to your soaked and dripping cunt and finally to the slick spot you left behind on the comforter. "Grinding against everything, you’re really desperate for it. Aren’t you?”

Rex turns your head to force you to look at the rest of the boys and you're suddenly struck with the feeling that you're prey.

You're prey and these five men are going to eat you alive. They'll devour you whole.

You look forward to it.

"Please," you whine, arching in Rex's grip and reaching out towards Echo, who looks as though he's fighting a war with himself just to keep his hands to himself, "touch me?" It's pitiful and pathetic, but you think you just might convince Echo to step forward.

That is, until Echo's eyes flit to Rex's behind you and his back straightens and feet cement themselves to the floor.

"You're desperate for a cock in your pussy, aren't you?" Rex hisses in your ear, pressing his body flush to your back. His cock is like a red hot brand against the small of your back.

Fuck, you want it in your mouth.

"She's gotta learn the rules first," Fives pipes up, fisting his cock and twisting on every upstroke.

Your mouth is dry and the words are almost hard to spit out against your desire to swallow each and every one of their cocks, but you manage. "R-rules?"

Kix smirks, kneeling down on the bed just far enough away that you would have to strain if you wanted to touch him. "The captain always goes first."

Rex's hand leaves your hair to press between your shoulder blades, forcing your head and chest into the mattress. His broad hand and fingers splay across your back, keeping you perfectly pinned.

Your chest heaves even more. Like this, you're completely exposed. Your swollen and dripping cunt is on full display for Rex behind you and Kix's cock is right there in front of your mouth — all you'd have to do is stretch your neck a little and open and your mouth.

Rex's thumbs open your pussy lips even more, "Look at that," he breathes, grinding his cock against the back of your thigh, "you're soaked for us, sweet girl. You want my cock that bad?"

"Yes!" you sob, canting your hips back into him.

His hand smacks down against the meat of your ass cheek. "'Yes,' what?"

Heat floods your cheeks. "Yes, captain," you groan into the sheets, "please, give me your cock?"

One of Rex's hands leave your body to line the tip of his throbbing cock against your entrance. He slides it up and down the length of your folds, getting his cock nice and wet to push into you.

"Kix," he barks, voice firm and not to be disobeyed, "why don't you keep her mouth busy?"

Kix's grin is feral above you, "With pleasure, Sir,"

Rex's first thrust has you choking on Kix's cock. The captain's hands are like iron against your hips, holding you in place and forcing you to just lay there and take it.

You give up trying to provide suction around Kix's cock and instead resign yourself to just pressing your tongue along the underside of it every time he thrusts into your mouth.

Rex's hand on your hip trails inwards, and your whole body stiffens when his thumb presses against your asshole.

"What do you think, sweet thing?" Rex leans down to whisper in your ear, "D'you think you could take one of us in here?"

Your cunt clenches around his cock and all you can do is moan around Kix's length.

Fuck, you don't know but you'd certainly like to try.

Rex groans as your clamp down around his cock, "Fuck, you like that idea, don't you? You want one of the boys to stick their cock in your ass, huh? Have you so full you'll be walking funny for days?"

Yes! you want to cry out. You want to scream as Rex's cock drags along that magic spot with every thrust but all you can do is choke around the cock in your mouth.

"Echo, you bring what I asked you to?" Rex asks, hips not slowing down for a second.

"Yessir."

Rex smacks a hand down against your ass, jolting you even further onto Kix's cock. Your nose is pressed against the hairs at the base of the medic's cock, and Kix's groan vibrates through his chest.

"Good," Rex grins, "then grab it and get over here."

You can't focus on anything. Your world is nothing but the punishing thrusts of Rex and the heavy feeling of Kix's cock deep in your throat. You can distantly hear Jesse and Fives fisting their cocks above you, and you want nothing more than to grab them and do it yourself, but Rex is using you like a doll.

A cold, slick finger presses against your asshole.

Echo.

You moan around Kix's cock as Echo slides the tip of his finger in.

"That's right," Rex murmurs, hand sliding around your front to circle your clit, "You're going to be full of us by the end of the night. Fuck, you're squeezing my cock so tight,"

Kix's hips start to stutter, "'M gonna cum, pretty girl," he warns, "you gonna swallow it all?"

You whine as best you can around his cock.

Yes, you want to assure him, I'll swallow every last drop.

You think the message gets across.

Echo slips a second finger in your ass just as Kix cums down your throat. Your jaw aches as you swallow it down, sticking out your tongue to show Kix the proof, and exhaustion threatens to creep up your spine.

But Rex isn't Fives and Jesse aren't done. Echo isn't done.

And you get the feeling that no one is done until Rex says they're done.

Maker, you never want this night to end.

#100 follower celebration #torrent company x reader #YEAH BABY

162 notes · View notes

valdomarx · 3 years ago

Text

time enough for counting (when the dealing's done)

McShep + Vegas fix-it, requested by @beautifulmonster. 2k, rated M.

Bad beat

John had always known it would end like this.

Well, the space aliens and the shady government organization had been a surprise. But the bleeding out, alone in the desert - yeah, that was always how he was going to go.

There’s a kind of dark satisfaction in seeing the world turn out exactly as shitty and brutal as you knew it would be. Called it.

His moment of sick vindication is interrupted, though, by a figure standing over him and peering down with cursory interest.

Sharp black suit, spotless even in the heat and the muck. Hands in pockets, head quirked in something that might be amusement. “Should have known you’d pull a stunt like this,” it says, and John would smirk at playing to type but the blood loss pulls him under.

Ante up

He wakes to pain. Vicious, lancing pain and the cloying smell of antiseptic and the beeping of monitors. He tries to sit up and his chest screams until he collapses back onto the bed.

Next to him, a slightly rumpled McKay is tapping furiously at a laptop. “Don’t go dying on me now, Sheppard,” he says without looking up. “I’ve got plans for you.”

Buy-in

The next time he wakes, the light has faded. It must be evening.

The hospital room - his own private room, he realizes - is nice. Far too nice for the local joint. Must be private. Must have cost someone a pretty penny. He would have told whoever it is to save their cash.

“You’re awake. Good.” McKay strides in, less rumpled now. Neat black suit back in perfect order. “I don’t have much time, so listen up.”

He tells John how they destroyed the Wraith target before he could get a message to his buddies in Pegasus. How this universe is safe, but the spacetime rift has sent that information echoing through other universes. How they’re putting together a team to visit these other universes; warn them, offer to help if they can.

How he’ll be leaving in a few hours to head up the program. How he thinks John might be able to help.

John blinks. His eyelids are sticky and his mouth is full of fluff.

“Why the hell would you bring this to me?”

McKay flashes him an enigmatic smile. “You did save the world. Maybe you’re more of a hero than you realize.”

On the flop

He gets unceremoniously booted out of the hospital a few days later, when it becomes obvious that he’s not going to die and whoever was bankrolling his stay isn’t any more.

His car is totaled. The money inside is gone. He’s got the clothes on his back, a mountain of debt, no job, and -

He sticks a hand into the pocket of his jacket. There’s something in there: a neat rectangle of card which reads, Doctor Rodney McKay, PhD PhD. Don’t call me, I’ll call you. There’s no phone number.

He heads for the nearest motel he can find, picks up two bottles of rotgut whiskey, and drinks until he manages to pass out amid the sounds of yelling and the scuttering of cockroaches.

Into the muck

Whatever the fuck else might be going on in the world, there is always the constant: 52 cards, 4 suits, the flick of the dealer’s wrist as he lays out your fortunes, the wins and the loses and the ones where you came oh so close.

He’s back at Mikey’s within a week, borrowing more to get out ahead of this debt, even though he knows that’s never going to work.

Maybe it’ll be different this time. Maybe he can win what he needs, pay off the people he has to, and use the rest to make a start somewhere other than here. Anywhere other than this desert full of chips and blood and corpses and filth.

It’s going to be a good night, he tells himself as he settles into a squeaky plastic chair at a low-roller table and looks around at his competition. Tourists and chumps, and he can take these guys no problem.

Pot-committed

He’s woken by a shrill ringing. His head feels like he’s stuck it in a cement mixer and his mouth tastes like cheap whiskey and puke. He rolls over, covers his ears with a ratty pillow, and ignores it.

The ringing continues. What the fuck? It’s a phone. It keeps ringing. He doesn’t own a phone.

Whoever the fuck is calling is still going, so with a groan he sits up and, bleary-eyed, looks for the phone. He finds it in his jacket pocket, and he’s almost certain it wasn’t there last night.

“Yeah?” he says as he answers it. “What do you want?”

“Sheppard,” a crisp, familiar voice says. “I’ve got a job for you.”

Sheppard closes his eyes. The last thing he needs right now is a world-ending crisis. “Can’t,” he says shortly. “I’ve got… business to attend to.”

McKay snorts. “Another fortune to lose at the poker table? I’m sure you do.” John can hear judgement radiating down the phone line. Then McKay sighs and softens. “Tell you what, meet me and hear me out, and I’ll see what I can do about clearing that off-the-books debt for you.”

That pings John’s bullshit meter, for sure, because that much money doesn’t get casually tossed around even in defense circles. But McKay gives him the address of a pancake place to meet for breakfast and what the hell, he does like pancakes.

Check in the dark

“We keep running into you,” McKay says, shoveling maple syrup-covered pancakes into his mouth with great enthusiasm. “Or, well, other versions of you. Practically every universe we’ve visited so far, you’re leading the team.”

John raises an eyebrow. Not much surprises him any more, but parallel realities strain even his credulity.

“It would be easier,” McKay continues, “if you were with us. You could help us explain. People trust you.”

John jerks back like McKay has slipped a knife between his ribs. McKay doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he does notice and is tactful or manipulative enough not to acknowledge it.

“Come work with me. We’d need to get you some -” he gestures with a fork, “- training, obviously. But you could be useful. You could do some good.”

John shifts in his seat. “I can’t just leave.”

McKay scowls at him. “Right, because you’ve got so many compelling reasons to stay.”

Gutshot

He ends up in some anonymous Air Force bunker in Colorado, of all places, and being around so much military life has his hackles rising. He’s deposited in a blank, windowless room with a desk covered in stacks of carefully redacted mission reports from the Stargate program which he reads voraciously because this is wild, this is unbelievable, but it’s also all true.

McKay finds him a few days later, lounging in the doorway as impeccable as ever. John is suddenly very aware of the fact he’s been sleeping in his clothes.

“Keeping busy?” McKay asks, voice dripping with condescension and something else John doesn’t want to put his finger on.

John nibbles the pen he’s holding as he considers how to answer that, and he notices the way McKay’s eyes flick to his mouth. Ahh. Interesting.

“Staying out of trouble, at least,” he drawls, letting his posture slacken so he’s lounging against the back of the chair and his knees are spread wide. It’s been a while but he knows how to play this game.

McKay walks around to his side of the desk, each step measured and precise. Not too fast, no sudden movements, a predator lining up for the kill. John tilts his head back and bares his neck, because he knows how to play the role of prey. McKay perches on the edge of the desk between his legs, looks down his nose, and says, “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I can behave.” He looks up from under his lashes. It’s not exactly subtle, but fuck it, they’re way past that by now. “When properly motivated.”

McKay leans in, all sharp smiles and gleaming edges, and John shudders. McKay notices and the sharp edges of his smile glistens.

“I know you can, Sheppard,” McKay says in a low voice that has the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. “I told you before. I know everything about you.”

Damn the man, John thinks, and then McKay winds his fingers into John's hair and yanks him in for a hot, messy kiss and John stops thinking altogether.

Afterwards, as he makes vain attempts to pull up his shirt collar to hide the bite marks and to wipe the come stains off the classified military files, John reflects that he may truly be in over his head this time.

Under the gun

A stack of paperwork drops onto his desk with a dull thud. He looks up to find the scowling face of Major Davis.

“Consultant,” Davis says, chilly as ice. “That’s what the Pentagon is willing to offer. You’ll get a salary and accommodation, and in return you’ll help Doctor McKay with his research while he’s on Earth.”

John opens his mouth, though whether it’s to say thank you, to tell Davis to go fuck himself, or to ask for more money, he isn’t sure. Davis holds up a hand to stop him before he can find out.

“I advised against it, given your record. But McKay is a real pain in the ass when he wants to be. So this is what’s on the table. Take it or leave it.”

Tell

McKay’s brow is furrowed and he’s fiddling with some piece of machinery (probably alien, John thinks, and it seems that sort of thing is part of his life now). It blinks to life for a moment before the lights on the top fade away, and McKay swears and bangs it on the table.

“Hey, easy, Chewie,” John chides.

McKay’s eyes narrow. “I thought you said you didn’t like science fiction.”

“Star Wars isn’t science fiction. It’s science fantasy.”

McKay actually smiles at that, something joyous leaping up in the corners of his mouth.

“Knew you were a nerd,” McKay says under his breath, and John punches him playfully in the shoulder. He’s defending his honor, or something.

McKay ducks his head, and a blush creeps up the back of his neck.

Ace high

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” McKay looks even smugger than usual.

“Yeah?” John slips a leer into the syllable.

But McKay just rolls his eyes. “Not like that. Come on, there’s something I want you to see.”

He leads him down through the base to a lower level, through endless security checks and into a dark hanger. There’s some technology they’ve acquired from an off-world source, he explains, deliberately vague. He’s trying to make some modifications to it, and he thinks John can help with testing.

John has learned to expect the unexpected in this place, but when the lights of the hanger flicker on his breath still catches. It illuminates a ship unlike anything he’s seen before: slick and cylindrical, rear hatch open to show seats and consoles inside.

“It’s fitted with inertial dampers, weapons, a shield,” McKay says breezily. “Oh, and you’ll like this.” He flicks a button on a control and the ship disappears in a haze like hot air. “It’s got a cloak too.”

It’s like something out of a movie, and John is struck speechless. He follows wide-eyed as McKay decloaks the ship to lead them inside and gestures for him to sit.

And woah, the moment he sits the chair glows and a holographic interface springs up in front of him, and he can feel the ship in his mind. He reaches out with a thought and - ping - the display shows a schematic of the hanger.

“Knew you’d be a natural,” McKay says, managing to sound both condescending and delighted. “Want to take her for a spin?”

Yes, everything in him screams, but he thinks about flames and smoke and the shrill, piercing whine of a tail rotor failing, and he grits his teeth against it and says, “I don’t fly any more,” instead.

McKay gives him a long, cool look.

“We’ll start small,” McKay says, all business, and it’s so easy to relax and follow his lead. “I need you to activate the inertial dampeners while I adjust the shield field strength.”

Okay. Okay. He can do that.

The ship whirs to life.

Short stack

John stares at the blank white walls of his apartment.

It’s better than most places he’s lived in. No roaches, for a start, and it’s clean and has its own kitchen.

But it’s infuriatingly bland, and Colorado is infuriatingly empty, and there’s not so much as a slot machine within an hour’s drive and he is climbing the walls here.

McKay has disappeared on one of those weeks-long missions he can’t or won’t tell John about, and there’s a restless itching under his skin that’s urging him to drink or gamble or fuck or something, and this whole planet seems too small and too constrictive but he doesn’t want to climb under a blanket of booze and drain it all away.

He wants more.

On the river

“Modifications are done,” McKay announces. “Shall we test her out?”

The we makes something squirm in John’s gut but he dismisses it with a lazy, “It’s your alien spaceship.”

McKay looks for a moment like he’s going to say something, but then he pulls out a radio and talks into that instead. “This is Gate Ship One, ready for initial shield test burst.”

“Gate Ship One?” John scoffs. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“It’s a ship that goes through the gate,” McKay pouts, and damn, that’s kind of cute. “Why, what would your suggestion be?”

John tilts his head. He’s seen footage of the ship traveling through the stargate, leaping through the event horizon and leaving barely a ripple in its wake. “Seems more like a puddle jumper to me.”

“You have the soul of a poet,” McKay says acerbically.

And damn if that’s not kind of cute too.

Dealer’s choice

“Come with me,” McKay says, and John is ready to say yes before he’s even finished speaking. “To Pegasus. To Atlantis. I need to get back there, and I’m sure we can find a way to make you useful.” A little smirk at the end there.

“I don’t know how the Pentagon is going to feel about that,” John says, deliberately languid to hide the way his heart is pounding in his chest. Escape, adventure, somewhere new, somewhere he could be a new person, and he wants it so much it aches.

“Eh, fuck them. They can’t say no to me.”

“Okay,” he shrugs. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do here.”

McKay gives him a look that shoots straight through his defenses and down to his sticky innards. “Yeah, okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way that makes the ache in John’s chest twist into a deep burn.

All in

The jumper hovers in the air in front of the stargate.

“Nervous?” McKay asks, carefully casual, like he doesn’t already know the answer.

John hums. The inside of the jumper feels as much like home as any place he knows. What’s another galaxy to a man with no ties?

“You’re going to love it there,” McKay says with a smile he can’t hide. He dials up the gate and it engages with a tremendous whoosh and a burst of brilliant blue light.

Here goes nothing, he thinks as McKay deploys the drive pods and fires up the engines. One last new start.

#mcshep #stargate atlantis #my writing #beautifulmonster #love!! this verse!!!#someone give vegas john a warm blanket and some love i beg you

84 notes · View notes

byunbaekby · 4 years ago

Text

title — no body, no crime (teaser) pairing — detective!doyoung x female reader genres — angst, fluff, best friends to lovers au, time travel au, detective au, crime, mystery, slow burn overall warnings — crime, violence, kidnapping, mentions of death, language (to be updated as written) teaser warnings — language teaser word count — 918 words summary — time travel is a concept you’ve played with your entire life. then suddenly, your world is turned upside down when you’re transported to the future, where you learn that you have been missing for seven years. now, your quiet and studious best friend from college is the lead detective in your case; will you be able to help him find you before it’s too late? additional — for the NEOCLOCK collab hosted by @nct-writers

projected release — january 10, 2021 8am kst / january 9, 2021 3pm pst projected word count — 15-20k

send an ask to be added to the tag list! graphics by @suh-insane.

A flash of light, and you’re here.

Though you attempt to land straight on your feet, the force of your sudden movement drops you to your hands and knees, limbs meeting cold concrete. “Shit,” you curse out as pain shoots through your kneecaps and wrists at the sudden impact.

There’s a struggle to regain your stance on your feet, but once you do, you take in your environment. Despite the fact that your head is still spinning, throbbing from the sudden agitation of… whatever it was that you just did, you attempt to regain control of the situation and assess your surroundings. The room is medium sized, its walls an unsightly saffron beige and illuminated by a few dull light fixtures that hang from the ceiling. A number of desks, squished rather closely together with mountains of papers towered atop, a table in the corner with a coffee pot and some disposable cups. On the wall furthest from you, an investigation board with a motley of pictures, newspaper clippings, and more pinned to it.

You’re at the police department… but why?

A few light, careful steps take you to the collection of desks. Though you’re careful not to touch anything, your attention is suddenly caught by the gleam of light on a nearby desk. It’s not as messy as the others, the piles of documents stacked neatly at their corners. But, there’s a pile of sticky notes and crumbled up papers on one side of the desk. One sticky note reads in angry red ink: 2516. There, hidden behind a giant stack of papers, a glimmer of a silver desk plaque that shines when the light hits it:

Detective Doyoung Kim.

Doyoung Kim… your best friend since high school, who had been studying his behind off to become an accountant? No, there’s no way. It must be another Doyoung. And besides, your Doyoung is nineteen and a first-year in university.

Wait.

Your careful and feather-light movements from earlier are discarded as you suddenly push aside a stack of papers to look for a calendar. It’s a large paper one, found underneath the papers. You search the maze of X’s to find the last date crossed out. The date is… November 2, 2020.

No, no it can’t be. A gasp leaves your lips, the first sound you’ve made since arriving, then an audible slap as you press your hand to your mouth. Two minutes ago it was December 2013, and now you’re seven years in the future. For a moment you’re shell shocked, simply staring at the calendar in absolute disbelief until you realize: you’ve done it. You’ve time traveled.

But, how? And why to this time?

Suddenly you’re looking around frantically, trying to make sense of the scene before you. Why are you here? How did you get here? Why the police station of all places? Your questions are suddenly answered when a deep voice interrupts your frantic deliberations. “Who are you?”

You turn sharply to the owner of the voice, who had just entered. Doyoung.

He looks the same, but still worlds different. His jet black hair is the same, though it’s cut slightly shorter than the length he preferred in his youth. His once gentle bunny-like features are now sharp and angular, eyes darkened by maturity. Though the Doyoung you knew preferred loose jeans and plain t-shirts, future Doyoung is dressed in his full business attire—gray slacks and matching blazer atop a white button-down and a black tie.

“Doyoung,” you say, voice soft and light at the appearance of a familiar face. However aged, he’s still your best friend Doyoung.

But the expression he wears on his face is alarmed, dark eyebrows furrowed into his eyes which display surprise, and even fear. “Y/N, is that… is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s really me,” you say gently. Surely there’s a future you that he still knows well, so seeing the nineteen year old you from his past is throwing him off. But he knows that you’ve been building your time machine for years, so you tell him, “I’m sure you’ve figured out now that I’m from the past. Is it really 2020?”

After a moment of silence and continued disbelieving stares, he nods. “Okay,” you say. “I… I time traveled from the past. I did it!” You exclaim, proud that your life’s work has finally come to success. “And you said that time travel was a fantasy.”

But rather than smile, roll his eyes, or offer any kind of reaction, Doyoung continues staring, eyes wide as though he had seen a ghost. Suddenly, he rubs his eyes frantically, beginning to pace back and forth, a habit he’s clearly failed to kick in the past seven years. “Oh god,” he mutters to himself, massaging his temples. “I’m going insane.”

“Doyoung,” you call out to him, grabbing his arm to stop his pacing. The moment you touch him, however, he pulls his arm back and stares at you with frantic eyes. “It’s me, it’s really Y/N.”

“You’re not Y/N,” he suddenly says. “This must be a sick joke.”

Your eyebrows deepen into creases, your frustration growing. “What are you talking about, Doyoung? I’m right here. I know it’s hard to believe, but I really time traveled.” He doesn’t respond, only continuing to gawk at your figure. It’s then that you realize his eyes are watery. “Why are you staring at me like that?” You ask.

“Because, Y/N…” He starts, voice shaking. “You disappeared seven years ago.”

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #neothestars #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #doyoung fanfic #doyoung scenarios #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #kim doyoung #doyoung #doyoung fic #s: no body no crime

124 notes · View notes

tossawary · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 27: “The First Day” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Right now, deep into the safety of darkness, Shang Qinghua thinks about how he never actually expected to be lying in his bed with Mobei-Jun. No, there’s a reason his sofa is comfortable enough to sleep on! That was by design too! Sure, Shang Qinghua had lots and lots of bed-related fantasies, but he had no expectations of those fantasies ever coming true. He didn’t dare to have expectations.

It’s kind of weird, lying in bed with Mobei-Jun. It’s definitely weird lying in his bed partially on top of Mobei-Jun. With the way things were headed, Shang Qinghua was admittedly fostering some hopes about those bed-related fantasies, but he still didn’t think to mentally prepare himself for the practical details. He really wasn’t mentally prepared for the softness of Mobei-Jun’s hair, for the thickness and the weight of the man’s arms, or for the coolness of his skin against the warmth of the blankets.

Fuck, now there is no way that Shang Qinghua is going to be able to see Mobei-Jun with a plunging neckline without thinking about touching the man’s bare chest. It’s a nice chest! It feels great underneath Shang Qinghua’s hands now.

He can feel a steady heartbeat beneath his fingers.

He can feel the gentle rise and fall of it with the man’s slow breaths, as the man’s eyes have fallen comfortably closed.

Shang Qinghua has never seen Mobei-Jun this relaxed.

AN: Moshang in bed together is very good. I loved writing Moshang cuddles. I think it’s really nice when they’re allowed to be soft and relaxed, and everything is understood between them. Mobei-Jun at this point has learned to treat Shang Qinghua like a particularly anxious cat sometimes - if he just stays still and relaxed, eventually Shang Qinghua will calm down and chill with him.

Shout out to Mobei-Jun and all those years he spent trying to get some hint as to how human social everything worked, only to get nearly no help from Shang Qinghua. In this fic, part of the idea is that Shang Qinghua has been a slightly better communicator. Mobei-Jun can be a good listener when he doesn’t feel hideously embarrassed over his fuck-ups.

“I had made plans to speak with you at some point about… this,” Mobei-Jun agrees. “But that was not why I had come to see you that day.”

“Ah, what… what was it, then?”

Mobei-Jun sighs. “I had come from a gathering of demon lords, hosted by my father at their request. They have loosely agreed to each contribute to an attack on the next conference of human cultivators,” he explains, apparently annoyed at just having to recollect this event. “My uncle encourages my father to force my involvement. He must have trouble planned… or see an opportunity for it.”

Shang Qinghua processes this, then sits bolt upright in bed. “What?!”

Mobei-Jun frowns up at him.

“There’s a demonic alliance to attack the next Immortal Alliance Conference?!” Shang Qinghua demands, leaning over the demon lord beside him.

“Yes.”

“And you waited to tell me this?!”

“There are years left before this event,” Mobei-Jun points out.

Shang Qinghua stares at him.

Sure! But he feels like he should start planning now! He already knew that there was going to be a demon attack of some kind - the seal on Luo Binghe’s powers has to be broken - but demon lords getting involved is bad news! Multiple demon lords who are important enough to be socializing with Mobei-Jun’s father is worse news! Demon lords potentially including Mobei-Jun’s shitty father and shitty uncle is the worst news of all!

“You should warn your people,” Mobei-Jun says, dryly.

AN: Mobei-Jun doesn’t care about the sects, but he cares that Shang Qinghua cares. Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua really are villainous in SVSSS. Shang Qinghua just so happens to sometimes be on the protagonist’s (Shen Yuan’s) side and Shen Yuan has romanced a budding tyrant who has MBJ as a loyal minion. But, oof, I didn’t want to go that route with this fic.

I mean, I considered it! I considered having Shang Qinghua be forced to bring a demon invasion down on the sect he’s come to care about and his own nephew, but that felt a little too angsty for me. It totally could have been good, I was just like, “I can’t handle that.” Plus, with the world update, it felt fitting to jazz things up a little bit - to up the ante by inviting more demon lords and also have a little role reversal by letting Mobei-Jun be the spy. This way, I think, it really feels like Mobei-Jun is on Shang Qinghua’s side.

Shang Qinghua isn’t on the demons’ side. Mobei-Jun isn’t really on the humans’ side. But they are on each other’s side. They’re a team!

Again, what’s more romantic than your demon boyfriend actually doing the work of growth on his own? Moshang can be a little rough and with a lot of sharp edges (on both sides, they’re both kind of mean people) sometimes, so it’s sometimes nice to remember that they can support each other too.

Also, I’ve always been kind of curious about what Mobei-Jun’s family thinks of his relationship with a human. Mobei-Jun’s father is still alive throughout SVSSS, so it’s fun to think about ice demon politics, power and influence and loyalty in that court, and whether that factored at all into Mobei-Jun’s extremely slow-moving courting timeline of a human.

The person at the door knocks a third time, and Shang Qinghua feels the person beside him stir. He can feel a not insignificant amount of weight shifting, a low and unhappy grumble, and cool skin brushing against his own as that person makes to get up. Possibly to handle the person at the door? Shang Qinghua here abruptly remembers many important details about his current situation that make the sect potentially being on fire seem like a not-so-bad emergency.

“Demon invasion,” Shang Qinghua finds himself thinking. “Mobei-Jun. Fuck.”

“No, no, no! Don’t get up! I’ll get it!” Shang Qinghua cries, throwing off tangled blankets and flying out of bed. “I’ll handle it, my king! Sorry! Ahhh, sorry! I’ll take care of it, you can just stay where you are-”

Shang Qinghua, now on his feet, pushes firmly down against Mobei-Jun’s chest. He’s not expecting the man - a very, very strong and very, very stubborn demon lord - to go back down under his hand without any resistance at all. This easy obedience, this willingly being pushed down, leads to a surprised Shang Qinghua overbalancing and catching himself hard on Mobei-Jun’s chest and shoulders.

As though Shang Qinghua is actually pinning the man down.

Mobei-Jun stares up at him, eyes low-lidded, and raises his eyebrows.

Ah.

Wow.

Shang Qinghua is going to… well, he’s going to think about this for the rest of his life, probably.

AN: Mobei-Jun is so self-conscious in SVSSS that it’s kind of hilarious. So it’s fun to let him be a little more confident (rather than arrogant and lashing out defensively). Mobei-Jun probably thought to himself here, “You know what’ll be funny here? If I just go down now.” I feel it in my heart that Mobei-Jun is a teaser, especially when he’s relaxed and happy.

Shang Qinghua takes the time to fix up his appearance a little more - to get rid of the “I slept with a demon” smell - because if the asshole at his door has kept it up this long, they can wait a little longer. It turns out that he didn’t really need to bother, because it’s his fellow transmigrator and most dogged critic, Peerless Cucumber.

“Bro,” Shang Qinghua says seriously. “Do you have a deathwish?”

Peerless Cucumber - Shen Yuan, Shang Qinghua has to remember to call the kid by his real name - lowers his hand with a scowl. “...One of your disciples told me to knock on your door and keep knocking until you answered,” the other transmigrator says defensively. “After I said you said to meet you in the morning.”

“...Which one?”

“Wen Shufen, I think?”

“Ah, just for that prank, Sticky Fingers is going to be hauling fertilizer for Long Sheng Peak for a month,” Shang Qinghua says tiredly. “Bro, do not believe half the things your martial siblings here tell you. They’re pretty much all liars, cheats, and thieves.”

“Then why keep them around?”

“Ah, well, sometimes you need someone to lie, cheat, or steal.”

“...It’s nearly not morning anymore, you know.”

“Eh, I guess you get a pass this time, since I did tell you we’d have a nice long talk about things tomorrow morning. Come on in.”

AN: I don’t know if this vibe is coming across, but Shen Yuan feels a little ignored and neglected. They just got back from a mission and Shen Yuan has already been shooed off like twice. Shang Qinghua is so busy. Shang Qinghua is so experienced and so established here. Shen Yuan has latched onto SQH as his lifeline, though he’s trying very, very hard to be independent, and yet Shang Qinghua kind of has SY on the back burner most of the time.

Not only is Shang Qinghua the author of this world, but he’s also an important figure in this world. Shang Qinghua really lives here and if the plot wasn’t looming over them, SQH would be very happy here. This place feels 100% like Shang Qinghua’s | Airplane’s world and brand new transmigrator Shen Yuan feels like an unwanted intruder. SY is still lonely and scared.

“...Are you going to try to activate it now?” Shen Yuan asks.

“Hmmm… no, not right now,” Shang Qinghua decides, standing up off the dusty stool he was sitting on. “Cucumber, bro, I’m just not awake enough for tackling anything serious right now. Let me get a few texts and tools together first to test this thing properly, alright? Some safety equipment! Aprons and face shields! Thick, fireproof gloves! I’m still trying to figure out how to safely ask Duan Tianyu what he knows about this map the System apparently made him send me, when he might not even know what the fuck I’m talking about! Maybe he can give us some hints.”

“Who?”

“One of my Huan Hua not-disciples,” Shang Qinghua answers. “I picked up some extras a few deadly missions back. They’re good kids. All grown up now! Less naïve than they used to be! Duan Tianyu is teaching back at Huan Hua Palace now, so maybe I’ll have to be the one to wander over there on some pretense.”

Shen Yuan agrees that getting as much information as possible is probably the better course of action. Shang Qinghua ushers the kid out of his secret basement and his fellow transmigrator goes easily enough. Shang Qinghua complains about his shitty, no-good System on the way up for forcing them to do all the work by themselves.

“It must think everything is more ‘authentic’ if I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” Shang Qinghua suggests, removing his spiritual seal and causing the door to the secret basement to vanish. “Ah, I’ll admit that’s kind of cool to watch.”

AN: Throughout this conversation, SY is kind of reaching out, giving himself or Airplane excuses to let him stay. It’s not that he doesn’t want to cultivate, but SQH represents a sort of safety and familiarity SY doesn’t have right now.

In SVSSS, Airplane was always pretty direct with Shen Yuan, from what I remember, but he wasn’t necessarily open. He was direct about some potentially vulnerable or personal topics, like Luo Binghe’s insanity or his own general fear of his character’s planned death, but that’s not the same as actually being vulnerable. They snap at each other, they’re pretty direct about their personal goals, but they don’t actually get vulnerable with each other by confessing their personal fears and new relationship developments.

So I’ve tried to adopt that here, while making Shang Qinghua a little kinder and slightly more vulnerable, thanks to the efforts of Luo Jiahui. But Shang Qinghua still isn’t necessarily open here and neither is Shen Yuan. He’s just like, “Hey, it’s shit and I don’t like it either, but what can you do?” He’s not actually seriously talking about his breakdown or just how scared he is of his own plot.

For some people, there’s a certain kind of openness in confessing things to a stranger, so it’s kind of like that too. Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan have fallen into kind of familiar dynamics, because there’s nothing else to really do, and they are kind of acquaintances, but they’re still not friends yet.

I think I want to have SY and SQH actually address this soon. SY feels that SQH has been kind of dropping the ball when it comes to honestly helping his fellow transmigrator, though SY, being SY, can’t quite put his finger on the lack of emotional intimacy and affection that he’s starved for right now.

The day-in-day-out of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect can’t get him down today! He feels kind of like he’s walking on air! Sure, the work never stops and there are some fucking terrifying things ahead, but he just had a very successful mission overall! He just had a really, really successful conversation with Mobei-Jun! He and Mobei-Jun are romantically entwined and Mobei-Jun was very explicit about the fact that he expects them to be romantically entwined… pretty much indefinitely!

“There is no one else,” Mobei-Jun had said. “There will be no one else.”

Shang Qinghua fostered a lot of hopes over the years! More hopes than he felt that he should have reasonably fostered! And to have those hopes unexpectedly fulfilled like this is… really something! It’s really, really something! Mobei-Jun really isn’t the type of character to say that - to say any of the things he said, and wow, he said a lot of things back there - without meaning it completely.

Shang Qinghua doesn’t really know what to do with that.

Forever is a long time.

He understands, of course, that some things really do last an impossibly long time. He used to be pretty certain that all love matches faded eventually - that people were genuinely wildly in love… that people were sincerely in love with each other, sure… up until they inevitably weren’t anymore - but now he can’t really imagine Liu Qingge or Luo Jiahui ever getting tired of each other. Liu Qingge keeps bringing Luo Jiahui new recipes to try and rare ingredients to interest her, so she can make dishes for the two of them or her family as a whole, and Shang Qinghua can easily imagine the two of them doing that pretty much indefinitely.

Shang Qinghua can’t think about this for long, before he has to focus on greeting his disciples (it’s just Peng Hongpeng and Chen Xuan in here at the moment) and getting to work. “Good things last while they last!” he decides for now, because thinking about things not lasting kind of makes him feel like he’s dying.

AN: Shang Qinghua can’t quite bring himself to believe in a relationship lasting forever right now. Part of it is his commitment issues, but another part of it is his persisting inability to see past the looming plot. He’s still worried about Luo Binghe and the Eternal Abyss, so he’s having difficulty seeing past that hurdle, even though things like Luo Jiahui’s marriage and his new relationship with Mobei-Jun are forcing him to confront the fact that there’s still a life outside of and beyond the plot.

For Shang Qinghua, it’s kind of a “I’ll think about that later if we all survive” thing when it comes to him and Mobei-Jun.

“He made a mistake with good intentions and got a small injury for it,” Shang Qinghua says, as reassuringly as he can. “He’s fine! He’s in trouble with his shizun for it, though, but I’ll see what I can do about bringing you up to meet him or bringing him down here as soon as possible. I’ll do my best to make it happen!”

Luo Jiahui leans into Shang Qinghua’s side and admits, “I miss him.”

“He misses you.”

“I miss you too,” Luo Jiahui adds.

“...Ah, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” his sister-in-law says warmly. “I’d miss you even if you visited every day.”

Shang Qinghua is holding her hands, but it feels like she’s got an extra one wrapped around his heart. “Where’s that husband of yours? Doesn’t he come down the mountain every day? Should I be telling him off? Sorry I ran off with him for a little bit!”

“What does Qingge have to do with you and me?” Luo Jiahui demands. “It doesn’t matter how often I see everyone else, I still miss you and Binghe the most.”

“Hm, that’s a point! That’s a point.”

What else can Shang Qinghua do but admit that he misses her the most too?

AN: It was fun to follow up Shang Qinghua’s romantic developments with a return to his most important and longest relationship: the one he has with his “fake” sister. Luo Jiahui is and always will be important to Shang Qinghua and who he’s become. They have such a lovely relaxed feeling that’s nice to revisit. I’ve missed Luo Jiahui these past few chapters, as things get twisted up more and more in sect business.

It would feel dishonest to the rest of the fic if Shang Qinghua’s other relationships disappeared in favor of his new romantic relationship. They all have their own importance. Mobei-Jun and Liu Qingge don’t make Shang Qinghua and Luo Jiahui any less important to each other.

I am looking forward to making Mobei-Jun and Luo Jiahui meet again, and tackling some of Mobei-Jun’s thoughts on Shang Qinghua’s relationship with his family. Mobei-Jun has a really shitty family, so it’s interesting thinking about what family means to him and how loyalty/love plays into it.

While he's busy plotting around the plot, there’s a hum of power behind him, the cool whoosh and crackle of a portal opening, the faint hair-rising warning of demonic energy. Shang Qinghua finishes tapping at his own face in thought, looks up at the looming shadow standing behind him, and smiles. He kind of feels like he should run away, but it's too late for that now. He held on long enough that he made it too late for himself.

“Hello,” he says.

AN: I took this almost exactly from the first chapter of Part 3 of this fic. I can’t remember the chapter number, but it was the one titled “The Inevitable Plot”.

Parts 3 and 4 of this fic blend together a little. Part 3 of this fic kind of ends here, but I have a couple more chapters that I want to tackle before I feel that I can say we’re for sure in Part 4? I have some things I want to accomplish before we go into a slight time skip towards the Immortal Alliance Conference.

#tossawary commentary #tossawary svsss #pride is not the word

56 notes · View notes

soyforramen · 4 years ago

Text

Sting

Or an update to the urban-fantasy AU:

Betty bit at her nails as she stared at him. It was unnerving, to say the least. Jughead had seen her in many moods, but this was the first time she’d stared at him as if he were a specimen behind glass. He’d been startled when she stormed into his apartment, clearly with a purpose, though the longer they stood there the more that purpose seemed to fail her.

“Take your shirt off,” she said.

Jughead was grateful that she’d missed his shocked expression in favor of digging through her backpack.

“I’ve got a grimoire that should work against Penny. It took some experimenting, but Veronica and I think it will work against demon fire.”

Oh.

Of course Betty would have come up with a solution to that particular problem. And of course her interest in his skin was purely professional. Why should it be anything else?

(Careful, Jug, came a voice that sounded far too much like Veronica for his tastes, otherwise we might think you’d want her to have a more personal interest.)

He sneered at that thought and stripped off his jacket. Betty was a problem solver, and in this case Penny had become a big problem. The demon had been creeping around the cult’s warehouses lately, likely waiting for a time to catch either one of them alone and vulnerable. And when a demon decided to claim a territory, they were keen to keep out anything that might threaten their dominance.

Jughead turned away from Betty as she was pulling out a plastic sheet and stripped off his flannel and undershirt. Even now, dead and starving, his breath hung in the air. He glanced over his shoulder at Betty, still working on the spell, and wondered if he should turn the heater on. But when she stripped off her own jacket and sweater to reveal the scarred, tattooed skin underneath – her runes sharp and stinging to his eyes – he decided against it.

He stared at his bookshelf, his heart pounding as hard as it could after two days without feeding. Jughead put all of his energy into focusing on the overflowing bookshelf rather than the half-naked witch behind him. As he scanned the titles, he realized he’d never been able to track down the last copy of his grandfather’s treatise on how to find and kill witches; now, though, he was immensely grateful that he’d never found it.

“This might sting,” Betty said softly behind him. She placed her hand on his back to steady the stencil, and the electric tingle of her skin reminded him of being alive in all the best ways. Strange, mumbled words hummed in the air around him.

Sharp, stinging pain dug into his very soul and Jughead bit his lip to keep from crying out. Unable to bear it for more than a few seconds, he cursed out and leapt away from her.

“What the hell is that, holy water?”

Betty winced. “And aloe and grimwood. It’s the only thing guaranteed to protect against demon-fire, and after she attacked you last week …”

“And she’s been guarding the cult,” Jughead finished, recognizing why Betty used the equivalent of jalapeno juice in an open wound on him.

She nodded, flushing a pretty crimson color. “And until we know what she’s doing with the cult, this is the best I can do.”

Jughead’s eyes were caught on the flush of her cheeks and how it lit up her face. His stomach growled suddenly and Betty’s eyes went wide. The color on her cheeks deepened and she stepped back, twirling a finger at him.

Dutifully, he turned back around to let her finish. He bit the inside of his own cheek this time and focused on the crack in the wall rather than the pounding of her blood as it ran through her carotid artery at a rate of 5.1 kilos pure, viscous, life-saving liquid a minute, pushing 95% oxygenated blood through her body, rushing it to her cheeks, her neck, her throat, each and every red cell warming up her temperature to the perfect –

“Done.” Betty reached around him and held out the canister and plastic sheet. “My turn now. There should be some open space back there, but be quick about it. The ingredients won’t stay active too much longer.”

When he turned, Jughead found her back towards him. Her lithe, delicate hands held her ponytail away from her skin and he could see the pulse point on her neck jumping. His eyes, inherited from Judas’, no doubt, traced her skin, bronzed from the sun and full of life, to a mostly blank spot between her shoulder blades.

Hesitantly, he placed the cut plastic against her skin. Her whole body shuddered and he drew back.

“Sorry. Cold hands comes with the being dead thing.”

“No, it’s not you –“ Betty cut herself off and the back of her neck flushed.

Jughead fought back against the hunger that sat at the back of his throat and pressed the plastic against her skin. When he pressed down the nozzle, a sickly green liquid that attacked his eyes and nose clung to her skin. Slowly, he ran the liquid across the plastic.

“Now what?”

Betty shook her head and reached towards her sweater. A shiver ran down her back and Jughead traced the air along her spine, careful not to touch her.

“I think that’s it,” she said.

When she turned, Jughead held the canister out to her. (What did she do with them?, he wondered. Recycle? Reuse them for other spells? Throw them out into the city dump to create mutant creatures resistant to both human and underworld threats?)

Betty took it from him, taking great care not to touch, or look at, his skin.

“There’s some still left, if you want another hit to your front,” she offered.

“Will it help?”

She shrugged and took the plastic, turning it over in her hands. “It can’t hurt.”

“Alright.”

Betty placed the sticky, warped plastic against his skin. Her fingers were light and hot against his chest, forcing him to grind down on his back molars and count backwards from a thousand in Welsh.

As the liquid ate away at his skin, Jughead threw his glance towards the ceiling and held his breath as the noxious substance was applied. To keep his mind of the pain and the fumes, he counted all the ways his upstairs neighbor had irritated him in the past two centuries, the most recent of which was finding her nosey way into his brain. The liquid hit a scratch, not fully healed, and he jerked away.

“Sorry, almost done,” Betty said softly, misreading his movement.

She shifted so that her hand covered his heart, stilling the sudden fever in him. In this instant he knew that he’d do anything she asked, regardless of the risk to himself or the rest of the world. It was a dangerous thing, especially when one considered Betty didn’t realize the power it gave her.

The plastic peeled away from his skin, taking with it Betty’s hand. It’s absence left him colder than he’d ever been before, alive or dead.

“The protection should last a week, as long as you don’t wash it off,” she said, refusing to look at him.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Betty told him, her focus on packing up her ingredients.

The sudden cold behavior came as a start, and he slowly drew his own shirt back on. It wasn’t until he walked her to the door it struck him. After all, witches never made it their business to consort with the undead, and it seemed as if she’d finally found her senses when it came to him. Perhaps this was her way of politely setting boundaries. They were finally starting to get somewhere with the cult, and it wouldn’t be much longer that they’d part ways. It was only natural that one of them begin thinking about what happened after. And what it meant when they –

Betty paused at the door, her eyes catching his for the first time since she’d entered.

“I didn’t shiver because of the cold. My runes protect me against that.”

And with that she was gone into the night, leaving him to wonder whether she’d spoken those words at all.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead au

26 notes · View notes

fandom-imagination-ss · 4 years ago

Text

Clark Kent imagine

Author note: I cannot remeber writing this..and since i haven’t wrote anything for a while. I figure hey why not!!!!! So Sorry if it doesn’t make sense LOL 😂😂 I will be posting more soon promise.!!

Did i proof read: .... I honestly dont remember writing this soo.. you BET your tooth i didn’t proof read

Rating: fluffy!

Fandom: DC

God your such a big Dork!”

Laughing loudly your sides hurt , Clark just tripped and slide right into a lamp and somehow managed for the shade too be on. His head. You reached over helping him chuckling softly tracing your hands over his broad shoulders making sure he wasn’t hurt. Those Hurting Clark was physically impossible. You still worry.

He chuckled softly saying sorry, you just laughed giving him a quick kiss on the shoulder as you shifted too move too your sofa.

Loving Superman had it’s perks and downsides, the biggest one was that Loris Lane was Furious that you “stole” her profit. Clark always said that Louis never abused their relationship too get articles or too gain more popularity. But she was literally the Only reporter in the entire City that Had Full access too the most talked about man in the entire world.Getting raises left and right when She got a “in-depth “ conversation with Superman and ally he deets on a attack. Whatever way Clark spelt it out. You hated that she abused her relationship for gain at work. It felt wrong. She was literally Sleepign with the subject too information.

It didn’t help that your relationship with her was tense even before you knew she knew about Clarks double life. You were one of the few humans too know about Clarks ability before he became Superman. You grew up right down the road from Clark, same grade, best friends all thru school. Clark would show off his powers too you when you were younger and you were the only one outside he’s family too know. After he left and ran off too find himself you stayed and helped his mom and then Superman arrived and you reconnected with your oldest friend and you moved toot he city after a awful breakup and you just always were around. And Louis hated it. You tried too be friendly towards her. But once Clark discovered she was In bed with lex Luther. (Right in the middle of the Act.) he was furious And heartbroken and he broke up with her and you were secretly glade you didn’t have too pretend too be friends with her anymore.

Dating the man of steel happened so naturally you can’t even remember when it started or how it started who made the first move it just felt Right. Clark was smiling cupping your face looking at you “what you thinking about?”

Poking his stoumch you look up at him grinning, “how I’m so lucky too have my Dork.” He chuckled reaching over kissing your head. “I have too go surveillance with Bruce you be alright tonight?”

Nodding your head weakly. You were use too having too share Clark with the world. Honestly how can you complain when he’s Saving the literally world?

“Oh Ask Bruce How The Hell do you connect the light too the speakers? Too do that flashy thing.he’s instructions Suck!”

He chuckled saying okay.

He walked off. As you grinned excited too have the apartment too yourself. You walked over too your room getting out of your Jeans and into Shorts and a shirt of clarks you always steal it had he’s favourite football team. Making dinner for you, and a dessert. You grabbed your Tablet (making sure too put sticky tack on both lenses after reading how easily the cameras’ are hacked you always put Sticky tack on it if your gonna watch something in the tub.

Getting the Tub ready you started binge watching a the musketeers. When you finished having a relaxing bath you got into your cloths again and watched it on the tv. The actors were Hot as Hell. And the voices. Melting! Clark had that affect on you. He’s voice was smooth and deep and Hot. Those every aspect of your boyfriend is Hot.

You looked around realizing the place was empty as you went too the freezer as you pulled out your container of Icing. Before retuning too the sofa and warming it up as you had your spoon from your ice cream and mixed it as you watched tv. An hour passed when jumped gasping at some scenes. Then you heard the deep chuckle of your boyfriend.

“what are you doing?” You turned looking at Clark seeing him in his uniform as you had a spoon sticking out of your mouth as you spoke, “I’m- what are you doing here? I thought you were going too be late?”

“I came too check on you- what are you watching?” Getting up as you grabbed the icing container as you spoke, “Mustkeers.- what- aren’t you suppose too be hanging with a bat?” He chuckled walking over pulling you into a deep kiss it was unexpected as he pulled back as he spoke, “good icing.” You laughed hitting his softly as he grinned holding your head. “You smell nice.”

“had a bath with my good stuff.” He chuckled softly rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“thank you.”

“For. Bathing?”

Clark chuckled kissing your forehead as he spoke, “No for being you.”

“thank you?”

He kissed you again before dashing off as you got ready for bed.

Standing in the shower in the morning getting cleaned you turned seeing Clark standing in the bathroom smiling as you spoke ‘what?”

Seeing him pulling off his Shirt, which even after a year of dating. Still left you breathless seeing him shirtless. He was curved and caved from the Gods! It still took you back that he was yours. That this guy. Who looks like a god, has powers As if he was one. Was your you giggled seeing him quickly undress and Joining you in the shower. Quickly pulling you into a deep Kiss,

Perfection can only last for so Long.

It was wrong place at the wrong time. You were In a Church helping your friend choose a location for her wedding when a machine came Crashing into the Chapel destroying it. And the impact flung you backwards and you were pierced thru the stoumch by a pipe it slipped thru you like butter. You were pinned too the wall as you looked up seeing Lex Luther appear from the robotic machine he laughed loudly seeing you.

Superman arrived instantly you saw him just in time too loose vision from loosing so much blood. You heard him screaming No! As you drift.

Clark Dashed over too you seeing you impaled and pinned too the wall. He’s screams broke windows of the church as he fell down onto his knees realizing that you were gone. The girl who Never treated him like anything then a boy. The boy she has known her whole life. Who once learning about everything about him. Simply asked if she kissed him could she get the ability too be super strong. The girl who use too help him practice how too control who would sneak over too play with him. Who was his first kiss. The women who idea of a fun night in is. Watching a fantasy show and be bare legged and as comfy as possible. Clark felt his soul breaking seeing you. The Girl he was going too marry.have a family with.

“Opps.”

Luther said giddy seeing Clark in so much pain. Before Clark could find the strength too move. Luther dissapeared.

Clark screamed NO. You were gone..

Weeks passed with No sighting of Luther, Bruce ended up going toot he funeral, so did Diana , and Berry who you once meeting the flash instantly wanted too bet that Clark was faster. And you and him would have in debut conversations about Harry Potter. Wonder women was close with you also. You worked in a museum , and she would telly you stories a bout the greek gods. And the Amazon women. Cyborg was amazed a girl of this time. Couldn’t figure out how too do anything technical. You were as clueless as a 80 year old man trying too make a call on a smart phone.

Arther arrived toot he funeral with the others as he stood up too talk.the funeral was beauitful, and the wake was Sad. Clark’s Mom invited all the justice league too her house. Where Clark was staying since Luther has been MIA.

“when I first met that feisty women. She asked if I could really talk too whales and asked what they liked talking about. Then she told me I this insane theory of whales being fictional. Apparently that girl lived on the coast for two years. And Never saw a whale.Clark took her too my dads lighthouse and I got a few too pop up too show them off. I never seen a happier person in my life. She acted like a kid on Christmas Day .she was- something special.”

They all chuckled as Clark was silent holding his hands tightly as Diana stood up. “When I first met Y/N. she was covered head too toe in dirt and Mud. She was playing football with Clark.- She looked like the happiest girl in the world. I knew excatly at that moment she was madly in love. I remember looking like that at Steve. She asked me too help scare Clark it was- apparently her mission in life too scare him Once.-“ Diana went quite Seeing Clark was stiff. She knew excatly how he felt. Hallow inside with going thru the motion.

Bruce was about too speak when the front door opened. Seeing Y/N covered in dirt. You stood in the front entrance covered in dirt wearing the dress you were buried in. You coughed loudly as Clark Rushed over too you griping your face tightly, “how- How is this possible?”

“what the hell happened?”

Everyone looked at each other stunned as Diana heard a fast beating sound.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Clark was crying too hard too hear anything as Diana stepped over as she kneeled down pressing her ear too your stomach.

“it’s a heartbeat.”

“WHAT?” Gasping loudly as Clark was too stunned too take any of that information in. But your ears were working. “Shut up no it’s not! I- I was. In the church wasn’t I when that bastered- how- I woke up in the graveyard what the fuck! Is going on?!”

“how did you get out of the grave.. you were just Barried this morning.”

Rolling your shoulders you shook your head, “I woke up up above ground.. I wans’t- you buried me? What the Hell why!” You hit Clark as he gripped your face tightly as he spoke, “you scared the Shit outta me! How- I don’t understand you were died.”

You rolled your shoulders, “Don’t look at me! The last thing I remember was being in the church.. what- what happened?”

“you died..But I think your baby protected you.”

That’s when Clarks ears started working as he turned too wonderwomen. “Excuse me? Baby?”

“Oh Boy..’

#Clark Kent #Clark Kent imagine #Superman #Superman imagine #Dc imagine #imagine #Fandom imagine

63 notes · View notes

aciid-eater · 4 years ago

Text

“Teenage Fantasy” Rodrick Heffley x reader Part.2

Summary: A fateful encounter with the girl down the street will suddenly immerse a boy in a world full of wandering romance and fluttering emotions.

Warning: slightly angst-y, adult/possibly triggering themes

Song: Teenage Fantasy-Jorja Smith

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yeah I’m in a band, Loaded Diaper, we take big gigs.” Y/n scoffed under her breath, picking at her plate at her Family’s dinner table. Rodrick looked over at the girl, hoping to have impressed her in some way, but her irises laced in irritation didn’t look his way.

“What a coincidence, y/n makes music too!” Y/n’s mother stated.

“Really?”

Y/n dropped her fork rather loudly against her plate, glaring daggers into her mom. The tips of her fingers were shaking like rattles, stilling as she placed her hands on the large table.

“Mother.” She sighed in irritation.

“What’s wrong dear?” Y/n huffed, standing up.

“Forget it, I’ll be in my room.” She stated, leaving to put her empty plate into the sink.

“Sometimes I don’t understand her, she’s so distant.” Her mother mumbled as y/n gracefully ascended the steps to the second floor.

Lunch went smoothly after y/n left, the boys and the parents conversing mindlessly. Rodrick’s head snapped up when he heard a strong bass. It reverberated around the room, then back into his ears. Then the acoustics and beat of a soft jazz tune. His face immediately flushed when the muffled rifts of a zoned voice rang out in the room.

“There she goes again.” Y/n’s dad chuckled.

“That’s y/n?” Rodrick asked immediately.

“She sounds so good.” His mother gawked.

“She’s usually up there singing all day.” Y/n’s mother chuckled.

“Riley, go tell your sister to turn down her music.” Y/n’s mother directed. Riley groaned in his seat next to Greg. Before he could complain, Rodrick shot up quickly.

“I-I can do it.” He mumbled.

“Oh. Go ahead then, third door on the right.”

Rodrick was quick to leave the table and jog up the stairs. His eyes rolled back and a low growl fell from his lips, how could a tune, a voice sound so amazing? He trekked slowly down the hall, counting the doors as he tip toed by.

“I was told by my father, look into the future, do I really see this boy, who I think I’ve fallen for?”

The third door on the right was open, he peaked over the side, his eyes landing on y/n’s stilled form. She was sitting relaxed in a bay window and hanging over her was a professional mic. Headphones were poised over her head, they connected to a studio set up on the table across from her, including large speakers that amplified her voice throughout the house.

“We all want a Teenage Fantasy, want it when we can’t have it.”

Rodrick spent a shameful amount of time just glazing his vision over her face, eyes closed and feet propped up. Holly hills had nothing on this girl, how had he never seen her in the halls before?

“when we’ve got it we don’t seem to want it”

Y/n trailed on after the toon long dissolved, ending in a little giggle. Rodrick’s breath hitched at her smile. As y/n turned to hit a button on her equipment, she snapped her eyes to his as if she knew he was there the entire time.

“Well, did you have fun eavesdropping, brat?” She asked sassily, flocking her gaze back down to her work as Rodrick began to squirm under her stare.

“Yes- I mean- no I just-“ he cleared his throat.

“Your voice is really nice.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, mumbling a half assed thank you.

“You’ve got a nice setup in here.” He stated, eyeing her pins and dials from across the room. Y/n huffed, leaning back in her seat with her legs wide open.

“I know... why are you up here?” She asked.

“Your mom wanted me to tell you to turn it down. But now that I’m up here, I’d say what’s the harm in cracking it all the way up.” The boy smiled wickedly.

“Oohh no. Nononono. I don’t make scream music.” Y/n scoffed.

“Pft— you’re no fun.” He chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“I make music you can feel.” She said pointedly, taking off her headset.

“Hey! You can feel the music my band makes.” Rodrick pouted.

“Yeah I can feel it breaking my eardrums. On a good day, I can hear you from my driveway.” Y/n yawned.

“I mean music you can really feel.” She said with more emphasis. Standing up from her spot on the window seat, y/n slowly made her way across the room to stand infront of the tall male.

“Here.” She mumbled. Rodrick’s breath hitched when y/n’s hand trailed up his arm, her opposite hand palming up his chest. She hooked her finger under the neck line of his black tee shirt, pulling it slightly. She leaned upwards, her bottom lip brushing against his earlobe slightly.

“There no need to rush, take your time, life’s a big ride”

She sang softly, hushed in almost a whisper. Butterflies fluttered in Rodrick’s chest, her honey like voice making his skin crawl. It was the flow of her voice that made him feel things he knew he shouldn’t have. Her words were sticky sweet in his mind, replaying them over and over until they didn’t feel the same.

“Come back to earth, brat. I know I’m good but you look like you just came on the spot” she whispered, placing a hand flat against Rodrick’s chest. He flinched at the contact, his face flushing a brighter red. Y/n listened to his stuttering, using it as an opportunity to slip her hand under the hem of his shirt. She relished in the small whimper that fell from his lips, not flinching away when Rodrick’s large hands cupped her hips.

I like this. Maybe he’s a little more than I thought he was

“Y/n! Can you come turn on the sprinklers for me?” Her mother called out from the floor below. Rodrick blinked in surprise when y/n slipped away without so much as a second glance. And when she was gone, he leaned back against her door frame, raking his hands through his hair.

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick x reader #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid #Rodrick #Rodrick Heffley

285 notes · View notes

dewitty1 · 4 years ago

Link

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run

waspabi @waspabi

Chapters: 8/8 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom Additional Tags: Pining, Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship

Summary:

'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

Excerpt:

“You all right?”

“Brilliant,” Harry spat. His eyes burned and he turned away. He didn’t want Malfoy to see him crying.

“We can get rid of them,” Malfoy said quietly. “We can — not to sound murderous about it. I mean to say, we can just… Apparate away. Leave them here. We don’t have to get caught up in what they’re caught up in.”

“You think Hermione would go for that?”

“Probably not,” Draco admitted. “She likes the idea of a more organised resistance. Better resources. More money for those little pieces of Muggle parchment she likes with the sticky backs. But we can — we can strike out on our own, if we have to.”

“We wouldn’t last a week without her, remember?” Harry’s voice sounded hoarse. He wished his eyes would stop fucking leaking for five minutes. “We barely lasted a day at Jane and Cynthia’s.”

“I don’t know, Potter. We could figure something out. Sod this whole revolution business; it’s rubbish anyway. Crap food and no wages. Let’s leave this shit island to its self-destruction. We could go to Australia and live with Hermione’s parents and pretend to be Muggles. At this point I’d probably get an O on the Muggle Studies N.E.W.T, honestly, it’d be easy.”

Harry shut his eyes and had a brief, delirious fantasy of him and Malfoy on some Australian beach. Draco would be grousing about the heat, a thick line of sunblock on his nose. His bare shoulders would be red and peeling a little. Maybe he’d put on a really naff t-shirt with a stretched out collar to keep from getting more burnt. Harry would have a surfboard, and he’d somehow have got really good at surfing. They’d have boring jobs at a shop and no one would be trying to kill them.

“Funny,” Harry said, and his wet laugh was not very convincing.

“No?” Draco shuffled a bit closer. “Worth a shot, I suppose.”

“Sorry about your dad.” Harry scuffed his shoe on the ground, digging a little trench in the dirt. “Seemed like… I mean, I know he’s a right bastard, but I think he does love you.”

“He does. Fat lot of good that does me, obviously.” Draco edged yet closer. “It’s all right. I mean, it’s not all right, but it’s…” He shrugged expressively. “I think we’re handling your situation first.”

“I don’t have a fucking situation.” Harry looked at his feet. “Piss off.”

“In the immortal words of Harry Potter, ‘nah’.” Draco was very close to him now. He reached out and touched Harry’s hand — Harry flinched and stepped back.

“What are we even doing?” Harry demanded, wiping his eyes.

“Saving the country, and possibly the world?” Draco shrugged. “We may be doing a middling job of it at the minute, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“No, I meant…” Harry turned away. He didn’t want to look at Draco. “I meant, what are we doing.”

“Oh,” Draco said. Harry could practically hear him go rigid and pointy. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, that.” Harry turned back around so he could glower at him. “What — what are you playing at? You buy me a coat, you fix my shitty trainers, you hold my hand…” Harry’s eyes stung. His heart hurt so badly. “What are you fucking me about for?”

“I’m not fucking you about.” Draco looked pained. He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m not playing at anything. Or I don’t mean to be. I… Don’t make me say it.”

“Make you say what?”

“I… you know. You.” Draco looked down at his hands, which he had twisted together so tightly his fingers were white. “I feel… I have felt… For fuck’s sake, Harry! It’s so cringe. Don’t make me say it.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “You mean… You fancy me?”

“Fancy,” Draco echoed, looking up at the patches of sky through the trees. “Yes. Obviously, are you completely dim?” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Fancy. Merlin and Morgana both, Potter.”

“Oh.” Harry ground the toe of his repaired trainer into the dirt. “I’ve never had someone fancy me before.”

“That is patently impossible, Potter,” Draco informed him. “You’re unbelievably unobservant, that must be the problem. Really, it’s like you’ve got tunnel-vision. You can only pay attention to a vary small radius of information at a time.”

“No one who knew me,” Harry amended. “No one who really knew me.”

“Oh,” Draco said. He took a deep breath like he was bracing himself for something. “Merlin’s sake, Potter. Can you stop doing things to me, for once?”

Harry frowned. “I’m just stood here.”

Draco covered his face with both hands. “This is so horrible. I hate this so much. Could you come here, please?”

Harry took a few steps forward. This was so confusing. Everything was weird, and confusing, and he was a wizard, and those men knew his parents, and they wanted him to be part of some weird underground resistance group that was somehow different to Harry’s weird underground resistance group, and here he was about to, he was pretty sure, have his first boyfriend. He was about seventy-five percent certain. He didn’t want to be cocky. He wasn’t all that certain how these things worked for normal people, let alone for teenaged renegade wizards.

“Come here properly, arsehole.”

“I don’t know what I’m meant to…”

“For fuck’s sake, Potter. Have you never learnt elementary social cues? Here.” Draco dropped his hands from his face and put his arms around Harry. He clutched Harry’s new coat with both hands. Draco’s face pressed against Harry’s neck, long eyelashes brushing his skin.

Harry couldn’t move. Draco’s coat smelled of smoke. His breath was warm and his nose was cold. Harry’s chest went tight and painfully full, like a wardrobe packed so tight that it would shortly avalanche all over the unfortunate person who would next open the door.

“Hug me back, you dickhead,” Draco mumbled into Harry’s neck.

Harry did. He put his arms around Draco’s waist and leaned into the curve of his chest. His eyes went hot and wet again, which was embarrassing. He ducked his head to hide them on the shoulder of Draco’s fancy coat. His nose leaked too, so he wiped it on the wool. It even felt expensive on his nose, which was impressive really.

“I’m getting bogeys on your coat,” Harry told him.

“You’re such an absolute knob,” Draco said, but he didn’t let go. He touched Harry’s head with one hand, spreading his fingers beneath the tangle of hair to slip over his skull. His fingers moved slowly, carefully. “I have no idea why I like you.”

“You like me. You said it out loud.”

“You must be hearing things, Potter.” Draco’s grip tightened around his waist. His other hand slid to the back of Harry’s neck and stayed there, warm at his nape. “I’m concerned about your delusions and flights of fancy.”

“My flights of fancy,” Harry said. “You lot met me on a train platform to tell me I was a wizard.”

“You are a wizard.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Can I…” Draco pulled back, eyes flickering to Harry’s mouth.

Harry didn’t let him finish. He leaned forward and kissed him. Draco made a soft sound, or Harry did, or both of them. Harry had kissed two people in his life and neither of them had felt like this, like if Draco took his hands from Harry’s face he would crumple to the ground. Harry wanted to get closer, closer, but it wasn’t possible. Pansy’s robes were infuriatingly unassailable — Harry groaned in frustration and Draco laughed into his mouth, warm and wet. The delirious dizzy nearness of Draco, their mouths together and the heat fogging Harry’s glasses… Harry felt lit up. He felt like a lumos in the dark.

“Fuck,” Draco said, his forehead pressed against Harry’s. “We really ought to get back.”

“Probably,” Harry said, and kissed him again.

“You’re right,” Draco said, his mouth moving against Harry’s. “Fuck it.”

“They can fuck right off.” Harry laughed and kissed Draco’s cold cheek, the corner of his chapped mouth. In a few minutes, they would go back and find the others. Harry would face Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, and they’d figure out what to do about Pius Thicknesse, and they could change out of their ridiculous robes. Just not yet. Not quite yet.

(⁎⁍̴̛͂▿⁍̴̛͂⁎)*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡ོ

#Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run #Waspabi #drarry #Drarry Fic Rec #Fic Rec #Drarry fanfiction #Hp fanfiction #hp fic rec #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Canon divergence #alternate universe #Drarry Classic #Classic fanfiction #HP Classic #Carey's Bookmark fic recs #Carey's personal Bookmarks

20 notes · View notes

tuanhood · 5 years ago

Text

do i know you?

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: smut, (kinda fluff maybe?)

warnings: explicit sex, dirty talk, cursing

word count: 7k+

summary: you never thought in a million years you would meet your favorite idol on a night out, so then why do you pretend not to know who he is?

a/n: this is my first piece of smut and it’s kind of terrible but I TRIED YOU UNHOLY HEATHENS!!!!!!

The dark club should have made you feel at home. You weren’t a stranger to going out and dancing (and/or drinking the night away), but for some reason you felt a little more regretful being out. Being dragged into the city on a Thursday night at nearly one in the morning sounded like a good idea at first, but as you watched your friend on the dance floor you thought crawling into bed with a glass of wine and watching YouTube sounded like the ideal end to a night. Maybe you were getting too old for this.

Taking a sip of what had to be your second double vodka cranberry, you wondered if the bartender had scammed you. The flow of alcohol you usually experienced hadn’t kicked in and the numbness it brought was missing. You sighed and placed the drink down on the bar deciding to give up on alcohol for the rest of the night. It seemed like it just wasn’t going to be that kind of night.

“Come on!” You heard your friend shout at you, waving her hands crazily in efforts to get you to join her on the floor. You contemplated waving her off and sticking at the bar, checking your phone incessantly every minute to see the time change – wondering if this was the minute, you’d be able to go home.

But looking at your friend have such a fun time on the dance floor you couldn’t help but smile and feel yourself move towards her in the crowd.

“Ah! Finally!” she yelled over the music as you joined and put her hands out towards you in an attempt to spin you. You grabbed her hand and spun around the dance floor laughing for the first time all night. Some track that had been on your spring playlist began playing and it occurred to you that maybe this wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“See they knew you were coming!” Your friend said knowing she recognized the song from you. The two of you danced without stopping for at least 5 songs, and you felt the need to go back to the bar and sip on something. Whether that be water to catch your breath, or to maybe try and see if the alcohol would finally hit you – otherwise that bartender really was scamming you.

Telling your friend about your plan to retreat to the bar, she nodded her head, signaling her willingness to follow. At the bar you order another drink, making sure to give the bartender eyes that say don’t fuck with me dude and turn to your friend.

“Damn, I can’t believe it’s already 3:30… Do you think we should go soon?” She asked.

Even though you had a fun time dancing – and your intoxication being at a record low while doing so – you still had the feeling that going home might just be for the best, especially as you watched the bartender tip the liquor bottle into your drink for .0001 second.

“What time does this place close?” You asked.

She shrugs, “I don’t know, like… 6?”

Yeah… no way you were doing the all night till the morning thing today.

Turning your head to the right side of the bar you did a double take as if you’d seen a ghost. No way, you thought, you had to be dreaming. Noticing your sudden silence, your friend placed her hand on your shoulder, “What? Are you okay?”

You tore your gaze away from the figure situated at the end of the bar, you looked at her unsure if you’d be able to get a full sentence out. “I-I-”

“You what?” Taking a deep breath in, you tried to collect yourself, unable to believe the words coming from your mouth, “Mark Tuan is here.”

She shifted her eyes to the side as if trying to reach the back of her memory to see if she knew a Mark Tuan and looked back to you when she came back with nothing, “Do we go to school with him?”

You shook your head quickly and said his name again, but slowly, “Mark Tuan.”

Her eyes widened in shock, realizing the significance of the name, “What? What’s he doing here?”

“Do you think if I really knew I would be here having a panic attack?”

She looked to where he stood at the end of the bar, laughing at something someone in his group of friends said and running his hands through his hair carelessly. It almost felt as though he did it in slow motion, for everyone to take notice of him or in your opinion for you to torturously want him.

You had never really been a fan of K-pop idols before, but there was something about Got7 and specifically Mark that made you fall in love. Spending hours listening to their music, watching videos of them and waking up early to buy concert tickets, but you never in a million years thought that you would be sat at the same bar in the same club with Mark fucking Tuan. That was something fangirls only dreamed about and here you were living it.

“You have to talk to him.” You turned to your friend in shock and squinted your eyes at her in disbelief, “Um excuse me?”

“When does this ever happen? I know you and if you don’t talk to him, you’re going to regret it later.”

Shaking your head, you turned away from her and faced the bar, “No let’s just go home… I don’t want to bother him, I’m sure he just wants a chill night without any crazy fans,” you took a sip from your new drink, which still didn’t take anything like alcohol, “and besides I’m definitely not drunk enough to be confident to go over there, even if I wanted to.”

There was a pause as you waited for your friend to respond, but nothing except silence came from her side of the bar. You turned to look at her once again, noticing she faced Mark and his group of friends whose gazes were fixed on you.

“I don’t know… but something tells me he might want to.”

For just a moment you locked eyes with Mark and felt your heart beat out of your chest. It felt like everything you’d ever heard about love at first sight, but of course you were in love at first sight – this guy had been the starring role in all of your fantasies and dreams for the last few years. To him you were a stranger who was looking at him for an uncomfortably long amount of time and probably wanted to get away from immediately.

Then it happened. From the other side of the bar, he gave you that smile that you had come to know and love. The smile that did things only that smile could do. You dropped your gaze from him and looked down at the floor in a panic.

What the fuck does this mean? you thought to yourself. It must have been a mistake, certainly the Mark Tuan was not looking at you, and there’s no way he gave you the smile. You were just thinking about going home for godssake, Mark Tuan can’t be giving you the smile, just throwing it out there like a free pamphlet at a protest.

“What do we do?” Your friend asked.

Still looking at the floor, in the fear that you might get caught in Mark’s trance once again, you answered her. “What the fuck do you mean what should we do? We… We go get our coats from coat check and leave.”

She snorted at you, “You do realize that in order to go get our coats we have to pass right by him and his friends.” At this, you nod at her thoughtfully, “you’re right. So, I’ll just go wait outside while you get our coa-”

“Ma’am?” You’re interrupted by your bartender – the one that didn’t want you to have a fun night. Even though he seems to have a personal vendetta against you, you found yourself grateful that you had somewhere else to look that wasn’t the floor and especially not Mark Tuan.

“Um, yes?” You asked looking up at him. “This is from the gentleman at the end of the bar,” he said sliding you over another double vodka cranberry.

You stared at the drink speechless and look to the “gentleman at the end of the bar,” expecting it to be some creepy guy and not Mark Tuan, but instead as you glanced to your right you found a bright eyed Mark smiling at you and raising his own glass slightly in the air.

You couldn’t believe that Mark had sent you a drink and not a note that said “stop staring and fuck off already,” or something to that extent. Not only that, but it had been the exact drink you had been having all night… Was it because he noticed? Watched you? No there was no way, he probably just had asked the bartender… the bartender that seemed to hate you.

“Well?” Your friend asked you, breaking you out of your thoughts “You gonna have the drink sent to you by a K-Pop idol or what?” Nodding to her, but mostly yourself, you lifted up the drink and smiled at Mark, taking a sip.

This one actually tasted like it had two shots of vodka.

Mark turned to one of his friends and said something, they nod at him and you see him place his drink down on the counter. Was he leaving already?

But then your heart began to immediately beat out of your chest as you realized what he was doing. He was coming over.

As he approached you, you were afraid that you were going to go into cardiac arrest before he even made it over to you. You felt your friend’s hand on your wrist in an effort to relax you and place you at ease, “I’m going to go back to dance for a bit. Text me and let me know if you end up leaving,” she said throwing you a knowing wink. Instantly, you shake your head at her in protest asking her to stay and wondering why she thought you were going to end up leaving with Mark Tuan.

But just like that she’s gone and you face forward to be met with Mark. Well… it was now or never.

“Hi.”

“Um H-hi,” you practically stuttered.

“How’s the drink?” He asked, glancing down at the drink he sent you.

You shrugged in a nervous way, “Oh you know… It’s good.”

Mark’s eyebrows raised, “just good?” You found your eyes glancing down at the floor, unsure if you could have direct eye contact with him those close without blushing and embarrassing yourself.

“I mean it’s pretty good,” you replied, deciding you had to look back at him. You couldn’t have a conversation with your eyes glued on the sticky floor of a nightclub.

He placed a hand on his chest in relief, “oh thank god. I saw the look on your face with the last three drinks you had and I thought that I might as well give it a try.”

Your eyes widened, “o-oh um yeah… I’m just pretty sure the bartender hates me and wasn’t putting the full shots in the drink. With the amount of alcohol, I’ve supposedly had tonight I should be in the hospital and not standing here talking to you.”

He chuckled at the comment, “well I’m glad.”

“Glad that I’m not in the hospital?”

“Glad that you’re here talking to me,” he replied giving you a half smirk that made your stomach drop.

You cleared your throat, “Yeah well… I’m a 10/10 good hang you know…” You couldn’t believe what you were saying? A 10/10 good hang? Was that supposed to make him think you were cool? Worth talking to? It seemed like it was going to make him turn around and head in the opposite direction.

He nodded his head at you in response, “Yeah, no I could totally tell by your jelly shoes,” he glanced down at your shoes and you feel your face turn red.

“I-I’m just not a huge heels girl and I don’t know I wasn’t trying to be quirky or anything but I’ve had these since I was in high school and they’re broken in really well so I can go a whole night in them and my feet won’t hurt or anyth-” You cut yourself off mid ramble. Clearly Mark Tuan didn’t want to hear about your jelly shoes. Why the fuck were you being so weird?

“Sorry,” You said to him, taking another sip of your drink out of nervous habit.

“No, it’s okay. It was cute. To be honest with you, I don’t really get to hear monologues about jelly shoes being broken in that often, so it was refreshing.” He grinned at you in a teasing demeanor.

Cute?

He looked at for you for a moment, smiling with his eyes glancing down at your lips ever so often. The silence between the two of you felt as though it had a lot of weight to it – not in an awkward way, but it made you uneasy in a way that you couldn’t identify. It made you want to break the silence any way you could.

“U-Um so what do you do?” His eyes glanced from your lips back to your eyes. When his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, it begins to register to you what exactly you had just asked him.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Uh like what do you do as a job? Or um… are you a student?”

Obviously, you knew what he did, you knew who he was, so you had no clue as to why you were pretending like you didn’t know.

“You don’t know?” He asked cocking his head to the side.

“Sorry… I don’t know. Do I know you?”

Well… it was too late to go back now.

A half smile appeared on Mark’s face and it makes you think maybe this is what he wanted – someone who doesn’t know him and what he does or at least pretends not to. “No, you don’t… Sorry, I thought maybe you- never mind, it’s not important,” he pursed his lips in thought, “I just work in music.”

You nodded at him, not wanting to press anymore and dig yourself into a deeper hole.

“What do you do?” He asked taking a step closer.

He’s close enough to you now that you can smell his cologne, and it practically makes your legs go weak. Getting lost in his smell and his gaze on you, you almost didn’t respond.

“I’m just a grad student. Simple as that,” you replied, shrugging.

He leaned up against the bar to get comfortable, still within cologne smelling distance, “that sounds pretty interesting to me,” he pauses and continues, “I’m Mark by the way… I almost forgot that part.” He thrusts his hand forward and you just stare at it.

“You know usually you would tell me your name and shake my hand.”

You shook your head at yourself, “right duh of course,” you grabbed his hand and tell him your name. The way he repeats it gives you goosebumps and you could feel it go straight to your core.

It makes you want to hear more from him, to hear everything from him.

Suddenly you felt the drink Mark had sent you go straight to your head, the confidence that alcohol brought you surging through your veins, “do you want to go dance?” You asked him.

He smiled brightly, “I thought you’d never ask… Do you mind?” He asked gesturing to your drink. Nodding at him to show approval, he takes your drink and finishes it with one final gulp, while placing it on the bar counter.

Grabbing Mark’s hand, you lead him to the dance floor. At first, he starts dancing in an effort to make you laugh and you do the same, throwing out dance combos that you probably learned when you were thirteen. Mark almost falls over at your attempt to do some dance you saw on TikTok – to the complete wrong song. Just as you were about to show him another, you turned your back to him and a slower, more sensual song came on.

It suddenly felt weird to continue with your goofy dance moves to a song like this, so you just let your body follow the rhythm and beat of the song playing, eyes closed. After a moment, you felt hands on your hips, Mark slowly pulling you closer to him as if testing the waters until you’re tentatively pressed against his front.

“Is this okay?” He asked, lips brushing your ear which each word. Eyes still closed, you hum in response and approval. With this you feel his hands guide your hips as you move yourself closer to him. Pressing your back further into Mark, you feel his hardness pressed up against you. Grinding yourself on him even more, you hear a soft groan come from Mark’s lips and you feel your lower body twitch with a want you hadn’t felt in a long time.

He places slight pressure on your hip and turns you around to face him, the glint in his eyes and smirk on his face apparent even under the harsh lighting of the club.

Mark’s hand cups your face and he caresses his thumb along your cheek gently. The way he looks at you is a gaze that’s filled with lust and passion, but you also sense a thoughtfulness behind it. Almost as though he’s memorizing every inch of your face so he can think back to it again and again, even after whatever happens between the two of you tonight.

His hand on your hip goes further around your waist and he brings you close until your bodies are flush with one another. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, eyes fluttering closed. His head tilted to the side and he leans forward towards you. Wetting your lips in anticipation, you follow his lead.

Mark’s lips brush against yours gently at first and you hope he can’t hear how fast your heart is beating through your chest at just the slightest contact. His lips part slightly and you feel his tongue slide across your bottom lip. Granting him entrance, he deepens the kiss, causing you to wrap your arms around his neck, gently threading your fingers through the hair at his nape.

You hear Mark let out another soft groan at your playful tugging of his hair, sending a chill down your spine. He moves the hand circled around your waist lower, until it sits just above your ass and you can’t help but smirk into the kiss which he follows.

He breaks apart from you and you’re left breathless, whining at the loss of the feeling of his soft lips on yours. “Are we on the same page?” He breathes out in a deep, husky tone.

Caught up in the way he looks at you and the fact that you just had the best kiss in your entire life, you don’t stop yourself from saying the words that come out of your mouth, “I don’t live too far from here.”

“Then what are we waiting for princess?”

The pet name sets you into motion as you grab Mark’s hand and he follows you outside of his club. Him calling you both an Uber and the 15-minute ride to your place with Mark’s hands all over you in the car passes by in a blur as your focus increases to the feeling between your legs that grows with every touch he gives you. Somehow in the car, you managed to type out an incoherent message to your friend about heading home and asking her if she could grab your jacket from the coat check since you had to leave “in a rush.”

By the time you reached your apartment you felt as though you couldn’t even make it to the elevator in your building by the way Mark kept whispering dirty words and promises about what he was going to do to you in your ear.

Reaching the front door you desperately searched your bag for the keys, glancing up at Mark ever so often who had another sly smirk plastered on his face and biting his lip seductively. Somehow that makes the search for your keys even more frantic and it feels like decades before you finally find them at the bottom, although only mere seconds had passed. You turned the key to your apartment and let Mark go through first.

With the shut of your front door, you felt yourself being pushed back against the wall of your living room, Mark’s lips hungrily on yours. You let your hands drift up and rake themselves through his freshly dyed dark hair.

“I saw you looking at me and I knew you wanted me to fuck you. Is that what you want? Tell me that’s what you want.”

You moaned at his words as he ran his hands up and down your thighs, getting too close to where you needed him the most. You felt yourself lost in everything he was and is and couldn’t manage to respond with words, instead you bucked your hips forward into his as an attempt to show him how much you needed him.

He shook his head, “No, no, no. If you want me, tell me. A good girl always uses her words.”

It felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you had lost all the air and words in your body. You couldn’t be this infatuated with someone and wanted something so much that you forgot all of your basic vocabulary.

With a slip of his right hand under your dress you suddenly had an awakening, “Yes! Mark, I need you. I want you, please.”

He wouldn’t let it end there, “please what? I’m going to need specifics.”

“Please just fuck me already!”

“We have an impatient girl, don’t we? Well I’m just going to have to teach you how to wait.”

Groaning, you didn’t know how much waiting you would be able to take at this point. You could feel yourself break just from his touch under your dress, it was hard to imagine how long you would be able to deal with his teasing.

His hand crept to the top of your panties and slowly trailed his fingertips along your slit above the thin fabric. He hums to himself in satisfaction as he feels the dampness that has gathered near your core, “I haven’t even done anything, and you’ve already soaked your panties. What is it? My words? My voice? What is it that you love so much that you could cum without being touched?” Mark continues to slide his fingers down your sensitive folds, suddenly pushing his digit beneath the wet fabric. Sucking in a deep breath you shut your eyes tightly and suddenly feel his fingers grow motionless and stagnant.

Mark clicks his tongue in a disapproving manner, “I want you to look up at me when I open you up for the first time.” With his other hand, he takes your chin and tilts it towards him, causing you to obey him and position your eyes onto his.

“That’s my girl,” he coos.

With his wish granted, you feel his fingers begin to move again, his thumb dipping into your slit with his index finger shifted upwards to your clit. Adding light pressure, he circled around your sensitive nub, shifting from left to right and causing you to bite back a moan, not wanting to let him know exactly the kind of effect he was causing you when he had only just begun. But with the dampness that had already been pooling between your legs and the supposed mess in your panties, it was likely he already knew.

Completely pushing your underwear to the side, you felt him insert one of his digits into you, a groan coming from both of you. “You’re so fucking tight; I can’t imagine how you’re going to feel around my cock.” Nothing could phase you, not even the overwhelming sound of your wetness as Mark pushed himself in and out due to the bliss of finally having some part of him inside of you. You thought you were going to break when Mark suddenly added a second finger, pumping them inside of you at a faster pace and curling them to hit just the right spot.

“M-Mark please don’t stop.” You gasped, barely believing you had the capacity to get a functional sentence out.

At your request, he picks up his speed, repositioning his thumb back on your clit. You felt yourself pulse and tighten around Mark’s fingers, getting closer to the edge and closer to letting yourself go. “So fucking tight,” Mark mumbled as you shut your eyes tightly and dropped your head back against the wall, crying out in pleasure as you felt yourself begin to combust. Sensing your approaching orgasm, his movements stilled and his thumb on your clit draws back. Mark slips his fingers out of you, leaving a feeling of emptiness that you detest, wanting nothing more than to have him back inside of you bringing you to the edge and making you see stars. You bring your head forward from the wall to look at him, a smirk plastered on his face as he dips his fingers into his mouth to taste you. The sight alone is almost enough to make up for your loss of impending orgasm.

“My good girl has to wait.”

In the past you had found yourself suddenly hating Mark Tuan for a lot of different reasons. For ruining you with his different hairstyles and colors, wearing undeniably good-looking outfits to the airport and being generally attractive in everything he says or does. But you never thought that him denying you an orgasm would be added to that list.

Your legs feel weak from the release that never came, but you somehow managed to push yourself off of the wall and switch places with Mark to lean against the couch in a moment to catch your breath.

“How about I fill you up somewhere else? Would you like that?”

Hearing his words, the weakness in your body is forgotten and you immediately dropped to your knees. For a moment, you wondered how desperate you must look to him, being so eager to have him in your mouth. The thought soon disappeared from your mind as he unzipped his pants, realizing for the first time just how tight they looked. You felt your arousal growing more at the thought that you had been the one to cause the tightness.

Mark unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down his legs along with his underwear, releasing his cock. You had to admit as much as you loved the feeling that a penis gave you, you had always thought they were strange looking and in the past most of the dicks you’ve been met with were underwhelming in size and girth, but once again Mark Tuan was in a different league. His cock was actually pretty. You almost couldn’t believe how perfect it was and the way your stomach churned at how it was going to fit inside you later. Somehow it wasn’t too small or too big – but just perfect. Fuck, did this guy have anything imperfect about him?

Mark held his cock from the base and rubbed the tip against your lips.

“Open your mouth.”

Obeying his command, you open your mouth for him as he guided the head of his cock into your mouth. Closing your mouth around the head, you suck lightly as he watched you take him in with hungry eyes. You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock and slide your tongue along his length, teasingly. Finding your mouth back to his tip, you gently suck the head and move your hands up and down the shaft.

“Such a needy slut for me, aren’t you?”

You moaned at his choice of words and he let out a chuckle at your reaction, “you like that, don’t you? Like it when I call you what you are? A needy slut.” This only encouraged you to take more of him in your mouth and to begin to dip your head up and down wanting nothing more than to feel him at the back of your throat and to see him lose control the same way you did. As you continued, you could feel him move his hips forwards, involuntarily thrusting himself further into your mouth. You could feel your eyes beginning to water and your lips slick with spit and Mark’s precum, feeling yourself grow wetter in between your thighs thinking of how he was going to fill you up.

Groaning, you felt Mark fist his hands in your hair, “Fuck… you’re doing so good for me princess. Taking me so well and being such a good girl.” Continuing bobbing your head up and down, you felt him twitch inside your mouth as you reached the base of his cock. Feeling as though he was close to releasing himself, your remove your hands from his thighs and move them to his balls, wanting nothing more than to taste him and have him tell you how good you were for swallowing him so easily.

Suddenly, he pulled himself out of your mouth completely, causing you to look up at him through your lashes and reach out for him.

He shakes his head, “As much as I would love to cum inside that pretty mouth of yours, I need to be inside you.” He pauses, as if considering something and places his hand on top of your head, gently stroking your hair, “Be honest. You knew who I was when I came over to you. You knew who I was, and you’ve been dreaming about fucking me.”

For the first time of the night you feel embarrassed. It wasn’t your whimpers and moans for him or even your eagerness to get on your knees but lying to him that had you wanting to disappear.

He continues to stroke your hair, comforting you as you look up at him when he speaks again, “Well let me be honest with you, from the moment I came into the club I’ve been thinking about how tight you’d feel around me. How well I would stretch you and what kind of noises you’d make. Do you want me to do that for you? Do you want to feel me inside of you?”

You nod your head vigorously as you get up from your knees and wipe the spit running down your chin with the back of your hand.

Grabbing his hand, you led him down the hallway from the living room, leaving his discarded pants and underwear into your bedroom, not wanting to wait another second for him to be inside of you.

As soon as you’re inside, you felt Mark sliding the straps of your dress off your bare shoulders, grateful you didn’t wear a bra tonight since it would have become just another barrier separating you from him.

He makes it his task to kiss every piece of new skin that’s revealed on your body as he peels the dress down off of you. You find yourself with closed eyes once again, and it feels like every square inch of you is radiating a new kind of sensitivity.

“Lay back princess,” Mark said as soon as your dress is off.

Laying back onto your bed, you suddenly had a moment for your brain to catch up with your body. You were laying on your bed, in just your panties, about to be completely and utterly wrecked by Mark Tuan. And to think a few hours earlier you wanted to be in bed watching videos of him.

Looking at you on the bed, Mark licked his lips, “you look so beautiful princess. Just waiting for me to give you want you want. Have you thought about this before?” You nodded your head in response, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“What was that?”

He wanted to hear you say it, “Yes Mark. I-I’ve touched myself thinking about this so many times.” He closes his eyes tightly and groans, “I’m going to give you what you want. What we both want.”

It’s like his words are magic, anything he said went right to your core and made you feel like you were getting more soaked with every syllable that left his mouth. You had always dreamed about what he would be like in bed – what he would say and what noises he would make. And you had to admit at moments during tonight you found it hard to believe that the sweet, shy and quiet boy you knew from your favorite idol group could utter such words to you, but you had always hoped he had this side to him. Who knew you’d find out that you were right?

You hear Mark crinkling the condom packet and throwing it somewhere on the floor as he rolls it onto his length. Your instinct was to sit up and reach for him in an effort to help, but he shook his head.

“Relax princess, I’m doing all the work now. I’m going to make you feel so good and give you what you’ve been waiting on for so long.”

Laying back, you once again obey him and wait in anticipation. Part of you felt like you should be embarrassed for how quickly you were able to trust him and follow his every wish without really knowing him, but all you really felt was turned on by the notion.

“Mark. Please fuck me.”

He chuckled, and you felt the weight shift on the bed as he climbed on top of you, his lips quick to find yours, tongue swiping across your lower lip before he sinks his teeth into it. At this point kissing Mark felt like a second nature to you, and you couldn’t believe you had gone this long without kissing him. His hand cups your face gently and breaks away for a moment, just long enough to give you a slow, sultry smirk. He reattaches your lips with his, and you feel his freehand move down your body, playing with your breasts briefly, pinching your nipples before traveling lower. You feel his hand back at your core, but this time gently pulling down your panties which have become useless at this point due to how soaked they are. He only manages to get them halfway down your legs, and you help him by moving your legs up to completely rid your body of them.

Mark breaks away from you and just looks at you once again, as if in complete disbelief, which leads to you also looking at him in disbelief. You both couldn’t believe this was happening.

He pulled his shirt over his head and gives you another peck, “Ready for me?”

“Yes,” you wiggled your hips to show him how ready you were for him to finally fill you up.

You felt his body slip between your open legs, the tip of his erection brushing against your entrance and somehow that alone made a tightness in your lower belly appear. He rubbed himself against your entrance and you felt your eyes shut tightly, a whimper instinctively leaving your mouth with the built-up sensitivity you had from your denial.

Mark noticed this and decided to edge you on further, “Oh is this all you want?”

He continued rubbing his length up and down your slit and you groan in pleasure, but also annoyance at his continual teasing, “No. Mark please. I want more. I need more!”

At your words, he nudged himself forward just a little bit, but not enough and whine once again, trying to buck your hips up, but he holds them down.

“I thought you said all I had to do was relax,” you whined, practically wanting to cry.

Mark smiled at you, “I know. I know. My good girl’s been so patient.”

Mark thrusts forward, slow but without pause, stretching you open and giving you time to adjust to him. When he bottoms out, fully inside of you, you feel as though you could scream at how good it felt. How good it felt just having him there, inside of you and filling you up so completely. You could feel your body tighten and clench around him as if giving him the welcome to move.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels so so good. P-Please Mark, I need you to move.”

“Anything my good girl wants. It’s all yours princess,” he murmured.

He draws his hips back only to slam into you hard and fast, hitting deep inside of you. You moaned instantly at the feeling, and the noise only urged Mark to go faster, harder and deeper.

“You’re so tight, princess,” he groaned out, his eyes focusing on where your bodies met. He pulls back slowly, and continues to thrust in hard causing you to cry out. He leans down further onto you and his head falls into the crook of your neck, his teeth pulling and sucking at your neck, making you weak.

He stops his assault on your neck and slows his thrusting for a moment, and it makes you wonder if he suddenly reconsidered this whole thing – mid-fucking. He pulls out of you altogether and you feel yourself clench around nothing, whining at the loss of him inside of you. Looking back up at him he smiled, moving your body to flip you onto your stomach, then placing you up on your hands and knees.

“You..” you begin to say, but your words are completely lost when you feel Mark re-enter you at a new angle that had him reaching even deeper inside of you then before. He began picking up his original pace once again, hitting that spot every single time, making you lose all thoughts and common sense. The head of his cock hitting the sweet spot inside of you over and over again causes you to scream out multiple curses.

His chest leans against your back until his mouth is near your ear and you get chills down your spine, “Fuck, you feel so good princess. Squeezing me so tight, mmh…” His words are murmured into your skin, interrupted by kisses placed onto your shoulder in between words.

“Like this pussy was made just for me. My good girl made just for me, right?”

You could feel your body tensing, the orgasm starting at the pit of your stomach and spreading throughout your limbs.

“Right?” He asked again with a groan, slamming into you from behind even harder as he feels you clench even more around him.

“Y-Yes Mark. Just for you! Only you!”

“You’re so close, I can feel it,” he said practically breathlessly, making it clear his high was beginning to reach him too.

He brings his hand that isn’t situated on your hip, around to your front and lowers it between your legs to find your clit. The tips of his fingers tease your clit, in a way that felt like he knew exactly what would bring you even closer to the edge. The way your pussy clenched around his cock was evidence enough, “cum for me princess, cum all over my cock.”

You weren’t sure if it was his words or his hand on your clit or his continual and deep thrusting into you that finally brought your body over the edge and made you feel as though you had been hit by a truck. Orgasm washing over you as your hips began to buck and incoherent words left your mouth as you released around him.

Praises of how pretty you looked and what a good girl you were began to fall from Mark’s lips as his thrusts grew slower and sloppier, a sign that he was close as well. You clenched yourself around him and he moans at the feeling, and with one final push you fell the warmth of his cum spilling inside the condom.

He breathes heavily and stays inside you for a moment, almost wanting to relish in the moment, but he soon pulls out to remove the condom from his length, tying it and throwing it in the trash next to your bed.

You can’t remember the last time you felt this good, during or post sex. The euphoric feeling that came with it almost made you forget how you would probably never see Mark after tonight. You would just become another one of the many girls he likely sleeps with. You didn’t want to think that this was a constant thing he did, but you also had to be honest with yourself… He was a 26-year-old guy with fame… this must be an every night kind of thing.

Now that… that made your stomach churn.

Lost in your thoughts, you felt Mark place a kiss on your shoulder with a shy smile, warming your heart. He places his arm around you and you both lay in bed content from your post-sex high. The silence somehow isn’t awkward, as you expected it to usually be after a one-night stand, but instead it’s more comforting as if you actually had known Mark all these years.

Mark ends up breaking the silence first, “sorry if that was- too much.” You turned to him confused, “what do you mean?”

He looked away nervously, “the stuff I said.” Was he kidding?

“Mark no way... I liked it... In fact I really fucking liked it,” you said mumbling the last part.

Mark gives you another shy smile, “okay... I just don’t ever do this so I’m not sure what the standard is and I saw how much you liked it in the cab so I-”

“Now you’re the one rambling and I can see what you mean by it being cute.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, and kisses you on the top of your head. Another wave of comfortable silence washes over the two of you and you begin to think about something he had said earlier.

“Um… so what gave me away?” He looked down at you, confused.

You cleared your throat, “as a fan I mean…”

Mark laughed a bit and moved you closer to his chest, “the light stick on the bookshelf in the living room while you were blowing me.”

You groaned as if being a child scolded by a parent, “Ah of course.”

Rubbing your arm comfortingly, he smiled, “Don’t worry though, it’s better if the person I’m seeing is a fan. That way I don’t have to force you to come to stuff.”

You looked up at him in shock, “the person you’re seeing?”

“I want to keep seeing you… really want to keep seeing you. I hope that’s okay.”

You don’t say anything in response, but leant up to kiss him. Mark smiled into the kiss and you felt yourself break into one as well. Pulling away you situated yourself back to laying your head onto his chest as he engulfed you closer to him. Closing your eyes, you lay there in peaceful silence and felt more comfortable than you’ve been at home in your own bed for a long time.

“So… who’s your bias?”

“Obviously Jaebeom.”

Mark looked at you in disbelief and you snorted in response, pushing him playfully. “Some dork named Mark Tuan of course.”

He kissed the top of your head, and reached to stroke your hair, “Yeah, it better be.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan smut

315 notes · View notes