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kosmosguk · 4 years ago

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Lineage (M) | 4 | preview

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: ?

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Warnings: HEAVY yandere themes, mentions of gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, mentions of smut, 18+, explicit language, vomiting

A/N: Last part of the main story! Only parts left are a special chapter and the epilogue... Ah...so sad that this story is nearly over. This story brought a lot more support for my account, so it feels really sad to part with it. Maybe I’ll write shorter side stories for it like webnovels do lol. Hope everyone is being safe and taking care of their health! <3 Ty for nearly 3.4K and send in any memes/moodboards for Lineage! The one I like the most will get early access to part 4. Keep an eye out for a spooky drabbles series for Halloween :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

The air was still cold, the kind of cold that heavily bore on your lungs and left you rattling like the only thing left of you was a decaying ivory skeleton. You supposed the cold made sense, even though it was spring and it shouldn’t have been so cold. Some part of you convinced yourself it was the norm even when droplets of icy water splashed onto your frail cheeks. Even when you closed the door behind you, you could feel the chill; even when an acrid taste built up in your throat, you could not stop shivering.

Why could you remember the look on Namjoon’s face? You closed your eyes. Go away, go away, go away. His face lingered even then, even more stark against the darkness of your closed lids, hollow, disappointed eyes and lips curled too rigidly, too unnaturally into a smile. You knew that look. You hated that look.

You could feel the pain in your chest, prickling, and that pain seemed to sink itself into your stomach. Why did it hurt? Why were you hurting?

10. 9. 8.

You counted in your mind softly as the nausea swelled up, like the disgustingly messy crescendo of an agonizing melody. Now, this was strange, wasn’t it? Your cold wasn’t supposed to be accompanied by such nausea. When you began to heave, bracing yourself against the frame of your bed, you heard a knock and then the door click open.

A maid stood out there, her eyes widening as if she could not fathom the sight of you. You clasped your hand around your mouth, tears building up in your eyes, and you choked on a heave. You heard her footsteps tapping frantically as she dashed to get a bucket, but you couldn’t hold in the prickling in your throat, the swirling in your stomach.

Tears spilled out, dropping onto the ground, as you bent over and retched all over your nightgown and the carpet. Your vision blurred, spots dancing, and you sunk heavily into the moment of weakness.

When you came to, you were being encased in something warm. You didn’t smell anything rancid like what you had been expecting; instead, the soft pleasant scene of rose oil scented soap met your nose, and you exhaled a relieved sigh. Wait…rose wasn’t the only smell. You could smell a hint of wine and something muskier, though slightly sweet. The smell of it was so familiar. It couldn’t be? You peeked open an eye to look up to see your surroundings, and your mouth dropped open slightly.

“D-duke? My Lord. Why are you here? Why…How did I get here?’’ you sputtered, and you tried to push yourself out of his hold. His gaze, along with his hold, remained steady. He reached out slightly and gently trailed a finger down the curve of your cheek.

“I haven’t been able to visit you lately because of how busy I’ve been…If I had known you were feeling so ill, I would’ve been by your side. I’m so sorry,’’ his tone was remorseful. The Duke, who everyone believed had no bone of emotion in his body and who was notorious for never feeling remorse, was apologizing to you. His words seemed to wash out every agony you had experienced. You rapidly blinked away the hint of tears in your eyes and ducked your head shyly.

He caught your chin with a hand before you could hide your face and lifted it gently. You noticed the black circles imprinted into the skin under his eyes, the way his face was even more waxy and pale than usual. Every aggrievance you had despaired over while alone in that room faded; you missed him. You missed him so much. You wouldn’t have been stuck in your own head if he had been there to hold you…but he was here now.

That thought washed over you, and you wrapped your fingers around the hand that was under your chin. His hand was limp as you pushed it down to your thrumming heart. Your stomach fluttered as his fingertips traced your warm skin peeking out of the collar of your nightgown. You carefully held his hand there. You didn’t notice the brief flash of guilt on his face.

You didn’t say anything, your hand still firmly holding his, and you shuffled your body closer, closing your eyes. The scent of the two of you mixed together was pleasant, and although Yoongi’s touch was usually unnaturally cold, today he was so warm. Or maybe the warmth of you had seeped out and spread around the two of you. That was okay; you were warm enough for the both of you. You suddenly felt so tired, even though you had just slept.

“Yoongi…,’’ your voice was barely a mumble,’’ I’m tired. Stay with me?’’

He moved the hand in your grasp slightly, and you held on tightly even though you were half-asleep. He chuckled lowly.

“Don’t worry. Relax your hand. I’ll be here,’’ he spoke. You complied, and you felt his fingers wrap themselves around yours. The two of you laid there, a hand clasped with the other between your chests, and you took in the sensation of your husband with every deep inhale.

“I’ll always be here.”

Release Date: Sunday, November 8th 5PM PST

Reply with a 👑 to be tagged in the next part!

#yandere #yandere bts #yandere yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #bts smut #yandere lemon #yandere smut #yoongi smut #preview

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ikevamp-shrine · 4 years ago

Note

Random request Theo x pregnant mc or Dazai x pregnant mc ;-; -please :>

Thank you for requesting!!! ❤ Enjoy the Theo fluff.

Daddies Here

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Rating: Fluff

Pairing: Theo x MC

Tags: Pregnancy

Words: 762

Preview:

Her soft tones had an aphrodisiac effect on the male, his head lulling, his lips resting in the warm crook of her shoulder. Arms encircled his back as his own slid under the cotton clothing covering her body, the smoothness of her skin reminding Theo of silk sheets. It took a little coaxing from the radiant woman, but Theo eventually relaxed along the curves of her body. His body dwarfed her form in an almost protective way as he cuddled into her side like a child would their mother. The light scratching of her nails across his scalp sent chills down Theo’s spine causing his lips to puff out in a pout of relaxation.

“Yes, my love, daddies here,” she giggled lowly, her fingers tracing the small imprint of a foot pushing itself against her womb.

Theo’s stormy, tired blue eyes opened lazily at her whispers, his heart thumping sweetly at his new title, pride swelling in his chest as his fingers replaced his lovers. “There they are.” His voice cracked with sleep- the deep, reverberating tones vibrating against the girl’s shoulder. He continued, a tender, pure expression painting itself on to his features, “daddies here, little one, daddy will always be here.”

The fire held a gentle warmth against her skin; the flames casting shadows along the darken walls, resembling that of a lazy dance between two lovers- the type of dance where the only melody playing is in their minds, their hands loosely entwined, breaths mingling, foreheads pressing together as their bodies mold along the others’. The scent of leather and old pages surrounded her slowly breathing form- the occasional flipping of paper and soft crackling of tinder the only sounds present. Lithe fingers grasped the handle of a mug resting on a small side table, the steam curling and wafting through the air as her lips released a lazy stream of air, cooling the chocolate flavored drink that spread along her tongue, warming her chest as the liquid disappeared behind her lips.

“You’re still awake.” The voice of her lover pulled her from the fantasies of her read. Her eyes landed upon the man she had fallen so hopelessly in love with. She could see the exhaustion dripping from his hunched form, his feet bare- his boots already discarded at the front door, most likely due to the dirt coating the soles from a hard day of work- his eyes coated with a needy gloss that demanded to be attended to.

“I wanted to see you before I went to sleep,” she responded, placing the thick book down- a gift from the Comte.

“I told you not to wait for me.”

“And I chose not to listen.”

“You-,” his voice was soft, his lips tugging into a tired smile, his feet shuffling against the wooden flooring. Kneeing before her, his hands found their way to rest against the curve of her stomach, “how are my two favorite girls?”

“Boy- but we’re great. Needy for your attention- but great.”

“Girl.”

“See and that’s your problem.” Theo’s hair was soft as her fingers carded through the tuffs of caramel, her eyes softening at the gentle way her lover’s lashes fluttered close; his lips pushing against her stomach as he whispered his greetings.

“Would you be okay with them being a boy?” She question- albeit somewhat hesitantly.

“If they’re anything like you- I honestly couldn’t care, boy or girl.”

“Hm.”

The couple settled into a comforting silence, Theo’s breath warming the woman’s skin, a pinkish blush setting into the man’s cheeks from the heat of the fire. It was moment’s like these she wishes she had the ability to freeze time; it was moments like these she felt pure peace and happiness.

It was moments like these Theo wishes he had his beloved brother’s ability to capture seconds of history in the stroke of brush bristles; it was moments like these he forgets his past and future- he just lived in the present. No worries of deadlines or the academia, no exhaustion in his bones, no phantom pain in his back to remind him of past failures- it was simply himself, his unborn child, and the woman he loved most in the world.

The silence was broken by hands, so much smaller than his own, sliding themselves under his arms, urging his tired body upwards. He followed their wants finding himself putting his weight onto his forearms and knees as he touched foreheads with his lover; their swollen, soft breasts brushing against his chest with each deep, relaxed breath.

“Come Theo- you won’t hurt me.”

Her soft tones had an aphrodisiac effect on the male, his head lulling, his lips resting in the warm crook of her shoulder. Arms encircled his back as his own slid under the cotton clothing covering her body, the smoothness of her skin reminding Theo of silk sheets. It took a little coaxing from the radiant woman, but Theo eventually relaxed along the curves of her body; his body dwarfing her form in an almost protective way as he cuddled into her side like a child would their mother. The light scratching of her nails across his scalp sent chills down Theo’s spine causing his lips to puff out in a pout of relaxation.

“Yes, my love, daddies here,” she giggled lowly, her fingers tracing the small imprint of a foot pushing itself against her womb.

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikevam #ikemen vampire theo #ikevamp theo #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

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Magnetic - Part 6

Summary: You and Kihyun hadn’t worked as a couple. The fighting was endless, and no make-up sex could repair the damage unfolding between you. Years on, you cross paths with the man again. Will it be the same as before?

Pairing: Yoo Kihyun x female reader

Genre: exes to lovers / angst / romance

Warnings: none

Word count: 953

Prompt: “It’ll get better, right?”

A/N: This is for the Challenging Words February challenge. The intention of this story is to be shorter in length than my usual series. Most parts will be under 1000 words.

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

“How did we fight so much in the past?” you wondered as you snuggled into Kihyun’s side and looked up at the man. “We’ve been together now for eight months without a single argument.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Kihyun mentioned with a chuckle, playfully bopping you on the nose. “We bicker often.”

“You know what I mean.” Sitting up from his side, you reached for one of his hands instead and fiddled with his fingers. “Those moments in the past happened from stupid things like what we bicker over now.”

“I was jealous a lot back then. You were always so carefree and talked to anyone. I think a lot of the fights stemmed from my insecurities. I was worried I was going to lose you. And then I got an ego boost every time you came back. I can’t say I’m proud of my actions back then, but I understand them a little more now.”

“Because of the therapy you did?”

Kihyun nodded.

“I’m proud of you. I just cried until I didn’t anymore and never really focused on why I would act as I did. Ashley reminded me that I was really stressed during university. It’s funny that you saw me as carefree.”

“What I see now is a different woman from back then, and I want to only focus on the one I’m holding within my arms now,” Kihyun announced, slipping his arms around your waist and scooted in close. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Can I bring it up again?” Kihyun asked, and you cocked your head to the side with interest. “I know, there’s no rush. But at the same time, we’re both paying rent for places we hardly stay in for more than two days in a row. You’ve stayed here for a week, and I was at yours for ten days last time. Let’s move in together, yeah?”

You had been withholding from saying yes for the past month to moving in together with Kihyun again. It wasn’t that you didn’t know how to share a space with him. You were practically living together now.

The idea of it being official worried you. At least with two homes, you had something to fall back on if something were to go awry.

Yet, you could tell this whole relationship was different from the last. You were both mature and more balanced with each other. You could grant each other space when you needed it and equally comforted the other when feeling needy. You knew what you had with Kihyun was better than any relationship you had in between your first one with him.

It was time to take another leap.

“Okay, let’s move in together. Should we move here or go back to mine?”

“I don’t care which one we pick,” Kihyun announced, kissing you happily. “I just want to be with you always.”

It was bound to happen, eventually.

You couldn’t go the rest of your life as Kihyun’s partner without fighting at least once. And whilst it wasn’t as scary as you thought it would be, you were sitting on the bedroom floor crying, wondering if moving in together three months ago had been the right decision after all.

You had only started fighting with Kihyun when you moved into his college apartment too.

No, you told yourself, sniffling back your tears. This isn’t like back then.

Because it wasn’t. You knew this was just a typical couple’s fight. Everyone had them. Kihyun had been stressed with work lately and snapped at you. Even though he had already apologised for it, you ran off to the bedroom and locked the door, his knocking to be let in soon stopping.

You guessed he had left to get some fresh air.

Getting up, you approached the door, stopping in the threshold when Kihyun looked up at you. His gaze washed over yours, and he smiled softly. “Are you okay?”

“I thought you had gone out.”

“Do you want me to?”

You shook your head, diving into his arms and holding on. You didn’t cry anymore, nor did you rush to imprint your lips upon his. You simply held onto him as he did the same to you in comfortable silence.

“It’ll get better, right?”

“Our responses to when this happens?” Kihyun questioned, and you nodded into him. “Of course. You’re scared thinking of what happened before. I can’t say I didn’t worry about it either, but I know we’re both capable of approaching things differently now.”

“I still have my clothes on,” you remarked, and Kihyun laughed.

“Would you like to take them off?”

“No. I like this way better. We never solved anything by physically reconnecting as we used to. I don’t need to feel you inside of me to know things are okay like I did back then.”

“Good. Because I’d much rather this too. Talking it through, holding each other calmly. This is how things will get better.”

“Do you reckon we’ll be like this forever?”

“Well, maybe I might want to show you I’ve still got the ability to blow your mind now and then when we’re old and grey after a fight,” Kihyun suggested with a mischievous grin, and you laughed heartily.

“Let’s make a deal with each other now,” you stated, and Kihyun waited for you to continue. “When we fight in the future, we never go to bed without talking it out first.”

“I like that. And even if we do need to separate from each other to cool down, we don’t leave the house to do it.”

“Deal.”

Holding out your hand, Kihyun shook it firmly, and you both smiled at each other.

Fighting wasn’t so bad anymore.

_________________

Part 7

[MONSTA X Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #kihyun fiction #kihyun fanfic #kihyun scenarios #kihyun fluff #kihyun au #monsta x fiction #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fluff #monsta x scenarios #monsta x au #pwyl; magnetic #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop scenarios

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intangiblyyourswrites · 4 years ago

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Troubled Waters Running Cold

This is being posted in response to @truffeart‘s beautiful illustration of Yiga!Zelda from my TWRC fic. She completed this during her 24h stream, and I was fortunate enough to be available to witness it! It’s beautiful—you can see it here. All her stuff is amazing, so you can’t go wrong with anything you see from her!

Without further ado, here’s a preview of chapter two!

[Chapter One]

If there is one thing Link knows about the Master Sword, it’s that only he, the chosen Hero, should be able to wield it. At the most, those with a pure heart may touch it without harm coming to them. But the intruder before him is most definitely none of the above, the upside down eye on her chest glaring grotesquely at him. And yet, this woman is holding tightly onto it without the hilt searing burns into her skin, the bluish shine of the metal not the least diminished.

A Yiga. A Goddess-forsaken Yiga achieved acquiescence of the sword of the Hero. What sort of blasphemy is this?

He surveys her wearily as she continuously frets her gaze between him and the sword, her mind almost visibly whirling as she tries to make sense of the situation.

“Sir Link, are you alright?” comes a muffled voice from behind the wooden door, one he immediately identifies as Lark Schmidt, a knight in his company. The intruder, still holding on to his Master Sword, shoots him a glare as if daring him to answer. Link merely smirks in return, lips parting to do just that.

And then she lunges, not at him, but to the window. The sword clatters loudly on the floor and he instinctively throws himself at her, grabbing hold of her ankle and dragging her down to the ground. She twists and attempts to kick him off, but he evades it easily and scrambles on top of her, weight pinning down her legs and one hand securing both her wrists above her head. His free arm goes across her chest, right below her neck, knocking her skull back with a threatening force.

“Sir Link?” Schmidt calls again, and the woman beneath thrashes. Link adds pressure to his grips, but then hears her speak.

“I’ll talk if you send him away,” she whispers harshly. His eyes squint suspiciously at her.

“I can get you to talk with an audience.”

“You won’t, I can guarantee you that. Don’t you think we have back up plans for if we’re compromised?”

“You wouldn’t.” His eyes flit up and down her body to scan for places she had access to. Her ankles? Her wrist?

“Do you really want to find out, Hero?” She’s infuriatingly condescending despite her breath catching as his forearm inches up. “It would be rather messy. The guy outside definitely won’t be left in one piece, much less you or I.”

He grits his teeth, unable to tell if she’s bluffing. Not once has he seen a Yiga Clan member carry anything explosive. Typically, they either disappear in a puff of smoke or they falter against the weight of his sword impaled into their chest. But she is obviously different. The crest of her clan is imprinted on deep gray fabric rather than the iconic red, not unlike his armor set from the Sheikah. It’s unnerving to think she might have been parading as a Sheikah and he has never noticed—all the more reason to suspect that she is of a higher rank or skill; likely both. Consequently, this makes her more unpredictable. An exception—and a dangerous one at that.

“Well, Hero?” she taunts. His jaw locks.

“Perfectly fine, Schmidt,” he says loudly, grudgingly. His tone is deceptively calm even as his limbs continue to bear down heavily on top of her. Green meets blue in a lethal stare, both listening for the footsteps to fade away. The moment they do, she tries to fling him off, but he’s learned not to underestimate her.

“Where is it?” he growls lowly, fingers digging into her skin as they curl around her throat. If it makes her uncomfortable, she shows no signs of it. Instead, her eyes narrow at him, and he can almost make out her lips pursing beneath.

“What’s the point of telling you? I would lose my leverage.” His hand tightens around her pulse points in warning, but she merely lets out a puff of laughter. “Right, you don’t like to talk much.”

He waits. Patience is something he has plenty of, and he can tell by her constant fidgets that it’s not a virtue she holds. She sighs dramatically, says, “Lower my mask,” and at his weary glance, “It’s in my mouth.”

He raises a brow at the admission, but removes his hold on her neck to tug down the fabric covering her face from the nose down. It’s a quick action—he’s considering the ways he can get her to expel whatever explosive she is deranged enough to carry—but the reveal momentarily cuts through his thoughts.

She’s young. Can’t be any older than he is, and yet the amount of blood on her hands is unmistakable. The viridescence of her gaze when she had him pinned spoke of experience and ruthlessness, the blackness of her blade of precision and pride. Paired with the uniqueness of her uniform...He assumed she had to be older to have that kind of background.

Instead, her skin is smooth, face round with a hint of immaturity, nose sloped and slightly pointed at the end. Lips tinted in a shade of red.

He’s drawn from his reverie when a sly smirk brandishes across those lips.

“Like what you see?” she says, as if she isn’t currently at his mercy, “Because I know I do.”

He snaps his mouth shut before it can hang open in shock. His stare stays leveled even as a tinge of warmth traitorously rushes to his cheeks. He can only hope the darkness of the night hides it from her view.

In favor of not responding, he presses his thumb to her chin to force her mouth open. The only light he has is that of the moonlight dimly filtering through the window, and it does not reveal much even as he tilts her head to different angles.

And then something glints in the space between her teeth and her cheek. It’s white, small, cylindrical.

A pill.

His fingers dive into her mouth, quickly scooping it out and tossing it to the ground and far from her reach. His heart hammers inside his chest. She blinks up at him, astonished, as if she hadn’t expected him to go that far. He hardly contains his sigh of relief.

And then she lurches forward, capturing his lips with her own and forcing her tongue into the cavern of his mouth. A rather undignified sound rumbles in his throat as he shoves her back down, but he can already taste a hint of something strange. Instantly, he’s lightheaded.

“What did you do?”

He tries to sound threatening, but there’s a slur in his words. Panic shoots through his system but it’s just as quickly tempered down. His torso sways, vision dimming. The fingers around her wrists loosen and he topples over. She rolls onto him, hand warm on his cheek.

“Just a little something to help you relax,” she winks, and the smile on her lips is mischievous. “Sleep well, Hero.”

It’s a pretty smile.

-o-

When he comes to, he’s surprised he’s even waking up at all. The Yiga had the most opportune moment to slaughter him, but the only thing he feels is a heavy grogginess. He reaches up to stretch out.

He can’t.

It takes him a moment to take in his surroundings. He’s still in his room, but instead of being in bed, he’s in a chair facing his door. The sun is up, but still low on the horizon, so it can only be early morning. Coarse rope wraps securely around his body, strapping him tightly to the furniture. He can’t move. At all.

He tries wiggling where he can, but it’s futile. The chair creaks under his weight, and he knows if he tries to get out of this and falls over, he might not be able to get back up.

So he waits. He waits and churns the previous night over in his head. The aggravating woman dressed in grey, her wicked grin, the heat of her hand on his face. She’s not cute at all—he can’t believe he let his guard down low enough for her to pull that awful trick.

Finally, he hears the other knights moving about, their footsteps a steady cadence on the other side of his door. He opens his mouth to call out to someone, anyone, but a flush overcomes him. How pathetic would it be for him, Captain of the Royal Guard, to be found strapped to a chair? Perhaps Schmidt will come check on him again.

He waits. It doesn’t take long for Schmidt’s familiar laugh to resound. He listens closely, prays that he will take a pause at his door like the night before. But the knight’s voice peaks momentarily before quickly quieting.

Link bites down his pride and shouts, “Schmidt!”

He’s never going to live this down.

#Troubled Waters Running Cold #intangiblymine #not beta’d #excerpt #Zelink fanfiction #truffeart is amazing

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iamakiller · 4 years ago

Text

heartless

Wordcount: 2400

Warnings: Murder. Violence. Infidelity. Divorce. Reference to past abuse.

Notes: They say that every tale has three different versions. Mine, yours, and the truth.

This is the story of the death of a marriage, and what came after.

Henry is one.

His first word is “Dada”, followed closely by “Mama”, so Nicole can’t sulk for too long.

These days, he sleeps through the night more often than not. Some semblance of normality has finally fallen over the Barber household, after their rather chaotic beginning. It is ... nice.

Nicole’s figure has almost reverted back to how it was before. When Charlie reaches for her, she does not deny him. Her body is warm and welcoming, just as he remembers.

Now, if he stays out late sometimes, it is only to walk and think. His blades are gathering dust. He has remained faithful for over a year.

He cannot remember the last time he felt lonely.

Everything is perfect.

***

Henry is two.

Every other word out of his mouth is “No”. He is irrational, defiant, and wonderful.

Nicole mentions L.A. once or twice in passing, but Charlie dismisses it as a fleeting fancy. His career is going well, and New York is his home.

The attraction between them is still utterly magnetic. Charlie recognizes every inch of her body almost as well as his own. The taste of her spit, her sweat, her cum are all imprinted on his mind indelibly. The feel of her flesh under his hands is familiar and satisfying, and he cannot seem to get enough of it, even after several years of marriage.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter that they never seem to talk.

Everything is good.

***

Henry is three.

His curiosity about the world around him is vast. His capacity to ask questions is seemingly limitless, and often exhausting.

He also has no filter, which Charlie discovers to his utter mortification when Henry announces to the cashier at the supermarket checkout – and indeed to the entire queue, due to the volume of his innocent little voice - “My Daddy has a huge penis.”

Charlie claps his hand over Henry’s mouth, stammers his apologies, and retreats as soon as he has paid for his groceries. But when he gets home and begins to unpack them, he notices that a phone number has been scribbled on the back of the receipt. Interesting.

He puts it in his pocket. Just in case. It’s not like the cashier was extremely attractive. It’s not like she looked at him in a way that Nicole hasn’t for a while now. It’s not like he’s going to call her.

(But he does. Of course, he does.)

Other than that, though …

Everything is fine.

***

Henry is four.

For some reason known only to him, he is going through a clingy phase. He doesn’t want to go to day care anymore. He only wants his Daddy. He holds on to Charlie’s legs with a vice-like grip, and refuses to let go. And Charlie cannot bring himself to force him.

So for two weeks, Henry becomes Charlie’s unofficial assistant director on his latest production. If Charlie is seated, Henry is on his lap, face tucked against the crook of his shoulder. If Charlie is standing, Henry is right beside him, holding onto his hand or the hem of his cardigan. When the more kindly members of the cast and crew try to engage with him, he peeks out at them from behind Charlie’s back, but as the days pass, he soon warms up to them, and soon everyone is quite distracted by his joyful presence. He eats pizza for lunch every single day, and has all the paper and crayons that his heart could possibly desire. When he’s tired, he naps on a makeshift bed of jackets in a quiet corner of the rehearsal space. And finally, at the end of the second week, he asks Charlie when he’s going back to day care.

Nicole finds out about this little holiday after a phone call enquiring as to whether or not he’ll be attending the following week, and is furious. “You’re spoiling him!” she accuses, once Henry is in bed. “He has to learn he can’t always get what he wants!”

He’s four, Charlie thinks. But also … The audacity!

Nicole grew up in the lap of luxury, with a father who gave her whatever she wanted, as she reminds him all too often when he denies her some outrageous request. She has no right to comment on anyone else being spoiled. When Charlie tells her as much, without any of his usual attempts to soften the harshness of his words, she reels away with a shocked look on her face, like his mother used to after his father struck her.

Suddenly, Charlie feels awful. Like an utterly heartless bastard.

He spends the rest of the evening apologizing. The make up sex that occurs once she has forgiven him is so cathartic that afterwards, as they sprawl across the couch together, he finds himself telling her a few details about his past. Not much, but more than he’s ever trusted anyone with before, except perhaps his dear cousin Pat.

He wants her to understand him so badly. She is his wife, after all. The mother of his child. His life partner. Til death do us part.

Nicole presses her lips together, and doesn’t say anything in response. After a moment, she gets up, and goes to take a shower.

They never talk about it again.

Charlie openly embarks on a string of affairs, because why the hell not? He dusts off his knives, and becomes the scourge of the city again. Nicole doesn’t seem to notice that anything has changed. Or maybe she just doesn’t care.

Everything is not okay.

***

Henry is five.

He is tall for his age, but not exceptionally so. His report cards are full of praise for his positivity and kindness to others, though they do also mention how inattentive he is at times, especially when it comes to math. He has a gaggle of girls who follow him around the playground with dazed expressions and starry eyes. When Charlie asks him about them, Henry shrugs. “They’re just my girlfriends,” he says. Christ.

For the first time in his life, Charlie feels old. This is probably due to the permanent backache he has from sleeping on the couch on the nights he bothers to stay home. Or maybe it’s because he’s acting like he’s still twenty-five, and fucking every woman who spares him a second glance.

His body count has increased exponentially of late. Most of his victims won’t be missed, but enough of them are noticed that it draws NYPD’s attention, and he has to take a couple of weeks off to let it all blow over.

It works. But everything else blows up.

Trapped in the apartment with Nicole, tensions rise, until finally his infidelities come to light. In a hushed voice - so as not to wake Henry - she calls Charlie a narcissist, and a womanizer, and a drunk.

Charlie stands there and takes it stoically. Just like he used to when he was younger, and it was his mother spitting venom at him. The words wash over him, barely registering. He doesn’t respond.

After a while, enraged by his lack of reaction, Nicole screws up her pretty face into a nasty sneer, and informs him that he’s a heartless bastard just like his father was.

In spite of all he has done, it is a low blow to throw those secrets he trusted her with back at him like a weapon. And it triggers him, like nothing she has ever said or done before.

Suddenly, he finds himself looming over her, with his fist raised, and the urge to strike almost overwhelming him.

But he is not like his father.

He is not.

HE IS NOT.

Biting back a howl of pain so as not to wake his sleeping son, he punches a hole in the wall next to her head instead.

Even though they have been trying to be quiet, the silence that comes next is deafening.

Charlie stares at the damaged wall. At his hand. At his wife.

As if in slow motion, he crumples to his hands and knees on the floor, and begins to sob.

For a moment, Nicole stares at him with her mouth open, and her eyes wide. Then she leaves the room.

That night, she packs a bag and leaves, taking Henry with her.

Charlie is alone again.

Everything is broken.

***

It ends, as it began, with a great deal of expense, more of an audience than Charlie is comfortable with, and the signing of several pieces of paper.

***

Henry is six.

According to Nicole, the teachers at his new school say he is doing very well. Charlie speaks to him almost every day over Skype or on the phone, so there isn’t much about his life he doesn’t know, given Henry’s tendency to overshare.

But he misses the little things. The boring, mundane activities he took for granted. Helping with homework. Reminding Henry to brush his teeth, and tuck his shirt in. Quietly spending time together; Charlie absorbed in his writing, and Henry filling page after page with his colorful imaginings. Charlie loves hearing about Henry’s life, he really does. But he misses living it with him.

Meanwhile, Charlie’s latest play – ironically enough about the breakup of a relationship – is receiving rave reviews.

Even that one critic who panned him years ago has reached out via email to apologize after attending the preview, showering him with some gorgeous words of praise. They have been conversing back and forth ever since, the messages growing more and more explicit. He wonders if he will ask her for a review of his performance after he fucks her. It would be fitting. But he is so looking forward to killing her that he thinks he might not be able to wait. Her apology was just meaningless, empty words, and she deserves his punishment. Charlie never forgives. And he never forgets.

By day, he is in great demand. He works long hours, and doesn’t have even a moment of time to himself, so surrounded is he by others in his workplace.

But at night, he is alone.

So, at night, he drinks, and he fucks, and he kills.

He is relentless. He is ruthless. He is reckless. He is heartless.

He has nothing left to lose.

***

“Most men are just stone cold,” his mother told him years ago, bitter after a bad breakup with her latest beau. Charlie must have been about twelve at the time. “Heartless bastards, the lot of them. Just like your father was. Like you are.”

Her words were slurred and she could barely stand, although it was only three in the afternoon. She was drunk, but Charlie didn’t doubt the truth of her words. He never did. She was his mother, so why would she lie to him?

Heartless.

Charlie thinks about it often, even now.

Heartless bastard.

Late at night, when he’s being kept awake by an ache in his chest so intense that no amount of booze or cunt or blood ever seems to distract him from it, even for a single moment.

I am heartless, he thinks.

I am alone.

***

It is nearing the end of summer, but it is still far too hot and humid to be dressed to the nines for a black tie event. Charlie has been sweating in his suit all evening, and it hasn’t improved one bit since he retreated to his air conditioned apartment.

In the kitchen, he removes his jacket and tie, draping them carefully over the back of one of the chairs that sit at the small table in the corner. He unfastens the top two buttons of his shirt, and rolls his sleeves up neatly. That’s better.

After taking a few seconds to compose himself, he fills two glasses with ice water, and returns to the living room. Only a minute has passed at most since he left the room, but in this time his companion has traveled from the couch where he left her, to stand in front of the bookcase. She appears to be examining the few photos Charlie has of himself and Henry, in happier times.

His footsteps sound very loud as he approaches her. The apartment is always so quiet, these days. “That’s my son,” he says, quietly. “He is seven. He lives with his mother in Los Angeles.”

His companion nods, but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t turn around, so he cannot see her expression. He wonders what she is thinking. Probably that he is damaged goods. Which has always been true.

Charlie suddenly becomes aware of how close behind her he’s standing. He can smell her perfume, combined with the scent of some expensive shampoo. There is a light sheen of perspiration on her bare shoulders, which glistens in the faint lamplight of the room. He wonders what her sweat would taste like. How her lips would feel like against his. If her skin is really as soft and as smooth as it looks. He wonders how well it would bruise for him, and if she would enjoy it.

“Here,” he says, reaching around her with one of the glasses of water. She takes it from him, and lifts it to her lips to take a sip, making a small sound of appreciation. As he retracts his hand, he allows it to brush against her arm, so gently that it almost seems accidental. She shivers, then goes very, very still.

“His name is Henry,” he continues, apropos of absolutely nothing. “I miss him. I don’t miss his mother.” He can’t understand why he is blurting information out like this, to a stranger he met at an incredibly dull party only a few hours ago. “It was a strange relationship, and I suppose I am still not really sure what even happened.”

His companion takes another sip of water, then places the glass on the bookshelf. The lack of coaster underneath it makes Charlie cringe, but only for a moment. His head empties itself of all coherent thought when she turns to look at him. It feels like the breath has been punched out of his lungs. It’s only been a couple of minutes since he last saw her face, but it feels like somehow he’d managed to forget just how lovely she is. Or perhaps his reaction is because he is only now able to truly appreciate her radiance, given their new proximity to each other.

“I understand,” she tells him, in a voice that sounds like the most beautiful music he has ever heard. Quite boldly, she takes the glass of water out of his hand, and places it next to the one he gave her. Again without a coaster, but Charlie doesn’t even care. “My last breakup was less than ideal. It turned out my partner was rather heartless. Or … perhaps I was.” Her tone is self-deprecating, and Charlie can sense some pain behind her words.

And there it is again. Heartless.

That word that has haunted him for years.

I am heartless, he thinks. I am alone.

And there is is again. That ache inside his ribcage.

But this time, it feels different. This time, it is accompanied by a warmth that is spreading from the center of his chest, through his torso, and into his limbs. How strange.

Unbidden, an odd thought floats into his mind, and takes up residence there. Am I heartless?

Slowly, Charlie reaches out and takes her hand in his. He brings it up to the middle of his chest and holds it there. Even through her hand, he can feel the rapid thump of a heart that he has been told over and over again does not exist.

His beautiful companion blinks, and then her lips twitch into the faintest of smiles. She understands, he realizes, right before her fingers curl around the hand that still hangs uselessly at his side, and she reciprocates the gesture.

Her skin is soft and smooth under his palm, just like he thought it would be.

Her heartbeat is perfectly in time with his own.

Oh.

Oh god.

Charlie takes a deep breath, and then leans in, until his lips are just the barest whisper away from hers. “It seems you are not heartless,” he tells her, with a small smile.

“Neither are you,” she whispers.

Charlie closes his eyes, and he kisses her.

And he kisses her.

***

Much later, his bedmate sleeps quite soundly, tired out by hours of play. Charlie’s body is exhausted, but his mind remains frustratingly awake. His thoughts are very loud, and the pounding in his chest is almost deafening.

I am not heartless, he thinks incredulously, over and over again, trying desperately to process this new information.

I am not heartless.

So maybe ...

Maybe ...

Next to him, his companion stirs, muttering something in her sleep. Charlie pulls her to him, and strokes her hair until she has been lulled back into the depths of peaceful slumber once more.

Earlier, she was so responsive to him. So strong. She gave him everything he asked for without a single whimper, and politely asked for more.

And ...

The way she looked at him afterwards, when he attempted to tend to her welts and bruises, even though he had never done it before ...

The way she smiled at him after she pulled on the old t-shirt he gave her to sleep in, and it swamped her ...

The way she gazed at him through heavy-lidded eyes right before she fell asleep ...

It was almost as if she liked him.

Charlie chews on the inside of his trembling lower lip, and squeezes his eyes shut. Surely this is too good to be true. He wouldn’t be surprised to wake up in the morning and realize that this whole thing has been yet another one of his fantasies. It has been quite some time, after all, since he has bothered to take his medication.

But ... what it it’s not a hallucination? What if it’s real?

His arms tighten around her. She doesn’t wake, but she does snuggle closer to him, all soft and warm and sweet. Charlie swallows thickly, and presses a tender kiss to the top of her head.

“If you stay,” he whispers, “I am going to call you Kitten.”

Please stay.

#charlie writes #family man charlie #tw: reference to murder #tw: violence #tw: reference to past abuse #tw: infidelity #tw: divorce

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soundsaboutrighttumblr · 4 years ago

Text

WBL fic - Pink; complete; chapters 1-7

I put up all the last 5 chapters to this today at once on AO3, so I’ll just post the entire fic here, too.

It’s quite dear to my heart, and went beyong the first exploration of the funny idea of those seductive underpants. A story about firsts, and love, and growing, about Shu Yi and Shi De and my take on them. With explicit parts, and banter, sensuality, and feels. Enjoy. Happy Valentine’s.

Chapter 1

“I am wearing seductive underpants.”

Gao Shi De stops, and looks up at him like Shu Yi just spoke another new language altogether.

They had been an impulse buy. A linked photo in that search, that’d taken Shu Yi to some independent fashion store’s site.

He'd clicked on the buy button before he could reconsider.

Yes, he should probably have done some more research on the shop. But there was the matter of his sanity that made him x out of that picture gallery rather quickly.

Not much would be lost, he figured. Whether they arrived, or got lost in the mail, that would be that.

They arrived the next day.

Once Shu Yi freed them from their candy-colored packaging, they did look almost like speedos, even more so than in the preview photos online. Yet, if they actually were designed to be bathing shorts, the material felt a bit flimsy for that.

They also turned out to have a light metallic sheen to them, and Shu Yi was rather glad he at least had been of enough mind to choose the grey mélange one, and not the neon pink they’d also had available.

The short strings did have that pink color though.

The last thirty minutes have been spent kissing on the couch. The last ten of them shirtless, and it has been a revelation. There’s hums and smiles as they switch being next to and half on top of each other, and it’s a miracle none of them has fallen off to the floor yet, down where their textbooks are once more, with all the movement of Shu Yi constantly trying to pull Shi De closer.

Because that’s what he has been doing. Passion and want and urgency have brought Shu Yi close to vibrating out of his skin, so much he thinks he must be setting off sparks.

And still Shi De’s hands and hips hover. Don't touch everywhere that Shu Yi wants them to.

And it’s going so much slower than Shu Yi thought possible for a pair of healthy guys of 21 – not that there are any set rules to this, but he is kind of using himself and the pacing of his pulse as a reference here.

Turns out the material is also a tiny bit itchy at the seams.

Shi De seems to leave every next step to Shu Yi, and of course Shu Yi is happy to guide, to get to seduce Shi De to melt into his arms and kisses like that, it is the sweetest victory in itself. He could spend hours on this alone.

But how can Shi De be so calm, if that’s even the word, after wanting this for years? He does want this, too, after all, right?

Before he can linger on that thought, Shu Yi decides to risk it. To deliver a push into the direction he wants this to go. To see if he’ll get a clearer reaction, one that he can make something of.

"I am wearing seductive underpants.”

Gao Shi De stops, and looks up at him like Shu Yi just spoke another new language altogether.

Shu Yi watches him blink, eyes big with that doe-in-headlights look, frozen in his posture above Shu Yi, hovering again – and Shu Yi is suddenly glad he didn’t put that pink string into a bow, like on a present. The thought was there. He chose a loose knot instead.

Then Shi De finds his voice, even if it does not catch on the first syllable. “Oh? I… I have nothing special prepared for you, though…”

Even though he feels the rasp of it in his bones, Shu Yi can’t really tell if it’s meant in dry humor or a taunt or if those wide eyes actually hide something else. So he slaps Shi De’s shoulder for good measure anyway, with more bravado than he owns right now.

“Never mind. Want to see?” And he knows it’s probably a bit mean that he doesn’t even wait for an answer, just shuffles out a bit from under Shi De, pushing then working his pants down his legs, then lying back with a dare in his eyes. A dare that is as much for himself as it is for Shi De.

Shu Yi's well aware that he has given an open invitation to stare, yet he didn’t think it would feel like that. He never thought of himself as self-conscious, but this? This is... nerve wrecking. Because his body is definitely reacting. And that fabric won’t hide any of that. And because Shi De just keeps looking, mouth hanging open a bit. Not moving.

Then, again with the voice that catches only on the second try:

“Those. Those are...”

Shu Yi feels a shiver shake over him, reaching like held down laughter into his voice:

“Oh, I know. But they got you looking, right?”

Shi De’s glance up at him then is sharp, caught, captivated.

“But. You didn’t have to do that. To get me to look, I mean.” His tone is closer to their natural rhythm again. Rough with teasing and something more behind it.

“Hmmm.” Shu Yi gives it back just the same, with a shrug.

He reaches out and strokes a strand of hair out of Shi De’s forehead, then continues the caress down the contour of his face.

“Want to do more than look?” He watches Shi De swallow.

“You can, you know. If you want.” Those words do something. Crack something.

And Shu Yi sees it.

How the arms Shi De holds himself up on are shivering with the strain. Or with something else.

He instinctively understands it then.

What he will understand even more some days later, after he finds that drawing.

What he will understand in a few minutes, when Shi De collapses agaist him, with that flimsy fabric pushed aside and stained dark with sweat between them:

That Shi De is everything else but calm.

That you have to be gentle and careful with a dam built to keep years of wanting in check.

That this is what the shiver means. And the hovering.

Shu Yi instinctively understands it then.

And he keeps pulling Shi De closer, until they come together.

Chapter 2 : So?

This is gonna get explicit. Sweet and fun and awkward - like firsts and sex go and should go - again too, but first explicit.

Shi De’s POV.

“Want to do more than look?”

Shi De’s ears pulse with heat, a tangible sensation of pressure along his temples.

Everything feels like brimming over: His head, his heart, yet his mind can’t seem to grasp one coherent thought out of it all.

His senses are shouting, worked to capacity with Shu Yi’s nearness, his body’s warmth, his wash lotion's scent, and that visual, that visual. Through it all Shu Yi’s soft voice and fingers gently combing the hair on Shi De’s nape register only at a distance.

“You can, you know. If you want.”

That glaring, beautiful, irrevocably imprinted visual.

Shu Yi’s splayed himself out like this next to Shi De's side, allowed and told Shi De to look. And now the caress at his neck is so careful and full of care, and Shi De’s mind can’t follow, and his wrist and elbows want to give out under him.

How is he supposed to hold it all in?

Can I?

His head sinks to Shu Yi’s chest, leaning his forehead onto him, for a sense of support. He places a kiss there. Stays like this, and watches his own hand fall to Shu Yi’s thigh next to him.

Then up, in one continuous move, that almost masks its shaking. Until his palm molds itself to Shu Yi; the keenest touch.

Shu Yi’s reaction is instant: The drawn-out sound he makes, his leg muscle jumping, the tightening in of his stomach; fingers curl into Shi De’s shoulder, and he’s harder underneath Shi De’s stroke in seconds.

Why did I think the fabric would be cool to the touch?

It’s burning Shi De’s skin. It leaves him dizzy, and aching against the zipper of his own jeans.

He wants to absorb every detail, commit it to memory, every curve he sees, every ridge pressing back against his hand even though Shu Yi’s hips stay down, still, tight and trembling; but there’s this roar in his ears, and the heat that his body can’t seem to contain.

Shu Yi’s responses buzz back at and all over him, making him up, pushing him on.

His eyes follow his hand advancing up the lightly shimmering material, until he reaches the dark stained spot at the tip, and he pushes the fabric to the side. Listens to Shu Yi’s breath stumble, and gathers the wetness with his finger.

So that the caress back down slides on smooth skin, until it so softly catches. Shi De blinks, a delayed fade to black, and back, like a restart for his world.

Shu Yi is saying his name, his nails are at Shi De’s back, pulling closer, and Shi De feels like toppling over. Shu Yi is so hard, so hot under Shi De’s hand, a driving pulse, the most tender skin.

He has to swallow, once, twice, pressing wet kisses to Shu Yi’s torso where his cheek still rests; to keep his mouth busy, distracted, to not rush forward too much.

It’s fast.

When Shu Yi comes, it starts below the heel of Shi De’s hand; spurts and shock of warmth between his fingers. Shu Yi’s low shout stands out through the drum in Shi De’s ears, and as he curls in on himself a bit, it carries tremors to Shi De’s very foundations.

If it’s intentional or not, the bend of Shu Yi’s thigh comes up flush against Shi De’s front and there. And it’s enough.

With everything raining down on him, on his senses, his body, his heart, it’s enough.

---

Shu Yi’s hands are everywhere, holding on to Shi De, soft scattered strokes and grazes; lingering, assuring, making sure.

A fleeting pang of guilt gains on Shi De out of somewhere deep:

Just why did I never think he would be gentle and affectionate like this?

Shi De was ready - and not - for the jabs and pokes and shoves to his shoulders, his arms, his chest. But then this: Inside Shu Yi’s hugs, the warmest thing.

Whenever he puts his face to the crook of Shi De’s neck, and his lips move, and stay. It makes Shi De’s heart ache. And he’s almost scared of getting used to it.

Now Shu Yi’s hands are everywhere and pulling closer, pulling Shi De in, by the bend of fingers alone, and Shu Yi is humming, body and voice:

“Mm. Why are you still wearing clothes? I want to, want to… “

Shi De catches Shu Yi’s fingers at the waistline of his jeans, covers them with his own, trying to find his breath over the sudden renewed heat in his neck.

“I… I kind of already…”

“So? Then let’s wait ten minutes, and let me make you come again.”

That face so close to his; so indignant and sweet it's Shi De’s undoing.

Stunned laughter breaks out of him, and he lets it happen, too overwhelmed to hold it in.

Shu Yi’s smile turns content, and he pats Shi De’s hair through its aftershocks, like if for once he decided not to take offence.

Instead, Shi De finds his neck being kissed:

“But… let’s move to the bed for that, yeah?”

Shi De swallows, clears his throat, addressing what Shu Yi might be thinking:

“She’s at a friend’s birthday party. 'Till midnight the earliest. She promised.”

Shu Yi pulls a face:

“Hmm. I know. You said. But it still would be more comfortable than here.”

Shu Yi gets up first. Righting his stained underwear with a soft grimace.

How can he look pretty even doing that?

And it does rather look like swimwear, Shi De thinks. He has seen Shu Yi in swim shorts before. Yet he has never seen him like that.

Shu Yi seems unbothered, picking up clothes and putting them over his arm, then goes for the books.

“Plan to study?” Shi De’s own voice sounds dry to himself, not fully cooperating.

“Haha.” Shu Yi throws him a look, eyes narrowed: “I’m still gonna beat you in this exam, though.”

His nose scrunches up, and he keeps talking under his breath, as if more to himself than anyone else: “If I don’t get to study, at least I’ll make sure you don’t get to neither…” He giggles over his own antics, and Shi De’s heart hurts again.

Good to know he gets a bit high and stupid in his brain after orgasm, too.

Shi De collects the rest of their clothes off of the floor, puts the pillows back on the couch and opens a window. Shu Yi follows him barefoot to his room.

It’s starting to get dark outside, but Shi De doesn’t turn on a light. He puts their clothes over a chair.

He hears a flopping sound behind him and turns to Shu Yi sitting down on the bed; hands back wide, head tilted, pale skin still wet and shiny in places.

The instant throb in his groin reminds Shi De of the uncomfortable wetness in his own pants. He coughs, brain struggling to find something to distract from the blush he’s sure must be showing on his ears and chest.

“I think those pink strings might even be visible in the dark.” He tries to make it sound condescending.

Shu Yi’s smug smile derails everything:

“Good. Then you’ll find your way even in the dark.”

There’s no breath in his lungs, so Shi De blows it out through his teeth:

“Tsss. I… gotta… bathroom.”

“Yeah.” Shu Yi grins down at the sheets, feeling the cover beneath his fingers, and Shi De hurries to turn away.

“Oh, and Gao Shi De? Leave them off.”

The command hits him from the side. He raises his brows.

“The jeans, I mean.” It’s softer, with a smile half sweet half mischief.

“Tsss.”

Who even needs air.

Shi De makes for the bathroom, with a small detour for the sideboard drawer, getting a fresh pair of briefs. He doesn’t suppose he can really be sneaky about it, but he does it as quick as possible, grabbing the topmost pair blindly.

“Did you make sure they’re the seductive ones? Gao Shi De!”

He doesn’t turn this time, to keep the stupid grin on his own face hidden.

The soft bright laughter behind him is the best thing he’ll ever hear.

Chapter 3: Want

POV: Shi De

When he walks back into the room, Shi De tries not to think too hard about what to do with his empty hands.

Yet, Shu Yi seems distracted by his phone for the moment anyway.

The jeans were left in the laundry basket.

“Do you want something to drink? Hungry?”

Shu Yi shakes his head from where he sits at the headboard of Shi De’s bed, face illuminated by his phone’s screen light, naked legs pushed under the covers up to the knees.

“Mhm.” He puts the phone down on the nightstand and holds out a hand to Shi De: “I want you to come here. Why are you so far away?

“I’m not.” When Shi De’s knees touch the bed, the sheet is cool against his skin.

Shu Yi opens his arms for Shi De to come into.

It’s a bit of shuffling back and forth, until Shi De is leaning against him at the headboard, one arm around Shu Yi’s waist, having worked its way between the pillows and his back.

Shu Yi’s chin is rubbing against Shi De’s hair; then he stops: “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

Shi De huffs out a laugh, shakes his head on Shu Yi’s shoulder, then squints up at his skewed profile:” It is my house. I mean, I am capable of just getting something if I wanted, you know.”

“Yeah.” Shu Yi looks like he is thinking that over, and Shi De wonders what’s complicated about the concept, for him to be pursing his lips in thought like that; like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know where to begin.

Shi De watches the muscle in Shu Yi’s jaw shift as he swallows.

Then the mattress bounces when Shu Yi turns to him with a start and a quick grin; followed by some rough handling and prodding and scooting them lower, until they lie side to side facing each other.

“Gao Shi Deee.” He drags out the last syllable, and Shi De can’t help but look down to the lips shaping that sound.

“What?”

“I want to touch you some more.” That gravelly pout in his voice stirs tingles all over Shi De’s spine.

“Who says you can’t?”

Shu Yi’s smile turns wide, pacified and happy.

He puts his chin on Shi De’s shoulder, spreading his fingers; brushing them over Shi De’s chest, his collar bones, so freely that Shi De’s lashes almost flutter closed with the lightness of these touches.

They're bringing up something to the surface, that Shi De doesn’t know what to name exactly. When he meets Shu Yi’s eyes, something in their depths suggests he knows.

But how could he, if Shi De doesn’t.

Those fingers make their way up on his neck, holding Shi De’s face by the caress of them; and Shu Yi kisses him.

So sure and full of intention. An intention that is fuzzy for Shi De, that he can’t fully see, the extent of it; but it’s there in the kiss, begging to be swallowed.

It's the kind of kiss between them where Shi De can’t do nothing but hold on, unmoored and floating and out of his depths;

because although he’s giving his mouth to Shu Yi to be kissed, it feels like nothing is taken.

But instead he is given something he doesn’t quite know how to handle yet.

It's gently pushed into him, fed to him with tongue and lips.

There’s so much to feel, and Shi De can barely hold himself there, letting it wash over him.

When he opens his eyes, he has been too lost in it for a while to realize Shu Yi has stopped.

Once he finds focus, meets Shu Yi’s waiting gaze, there’s the echo of a smile on the face so close before him.

Then Shu Yi is on top of him.

Straddles him, hair falling into his face, over those dark eyes. All Shi De can think is:

Please, take from me. Anything you want.

Chapter 4 : How about this?

Shu Yi's POV

“Can I do that?”

Shu Yi brings their hips together. One of his knees finds careful room between Shi De's legs, the other one stays at his side.

Warmth and weight and two layers of fabric, and he just rests where he comes down; it's still burning up his spine.

“I… I sure won’t stop you.” It’s breathless and frayed at the edges.

“But do you want it?” Shu Yi hears it fall from his lips before he knows how much he really wants to ask.

He watches the shades and shadows shift inside Shi De’s eyes at the question, surprised and puzzled.

A nod is received in answer.

Shu Yi’s heart stops, restarts. He holds his upper body up on his arms, but leans down for a quick nudge of his nose against Shi De's cheek:

“I am curious.“

“About?”

“What you like.”

Shi De looks up at him like he can’t believe him, and also: like he’s thinking hard.

“Well. You. Mostly. “

“Ha. Okay.” It’s a snort, but one through a smile. Shi De's skin looks blue-tinged in the low light, and Shu Yi wants to taste it, wants to know if it tastes of the ocean.

Yet, Shu Yi keeps staring, holding himself up, waiting, for an addition that doesn’t seem to be coming.

A flare up of resolution runs along his frame, then, and the only warning he gives to Shi De is the twitch of a smile:

“Well do you like this?” He leans in and kisses the skin underneath Shi De’s jaw, below the ear, where it meets his neck.

Salty. Ever so slightly.

Shi De blinks up at him, transfixed.

Shu Yi makes his voices even softer: “Mhm. Do you like it here?”

He puts his lips to the side of Shi De’s neck, down where it leads to his chest. He feels the muscle trembling below his exploration.

Shi De's body is toned, muscles clean cut in places, yet smooth to the touch. It makes Shu Yi want to press down on them, measure himself against their give. The thought shoots a flare of heat up his spine.

“How about…” Shu Yi tilts his face to the side, pressing his open mouth around the curve of Shi De’s biceps, just enough that teeth can be felt.

All the while trying, keeping his hips gently settled, a pressure of just there, reminder of held anticipation, a sense of shape.

The long-drawn sound from Shi De’s breath could be his name.

And Shu Yi thinks he can start to feel a prickle of sparks, like electicity, crawling over back onto him; inside the vibrations of Shi De's voice, and the thin sheen of sweat between them.

He gives them back, turns them onto Shi De's chest, and when his teeth catch slightly on a nipple, Shi De makes that noise, that is sharp breath out, almost like a hiss of pain.

Shu Yi quickly pulls back, soothes it with a blunt peck of gentle lips: “Sorry.”

Shi De’s fingers on his shoulder curl in on him, and it makes Shu Yi meet his face, so close to his own.

Shi De just looks at him.

“Not… sorry? Okay.”

Shu Yi bends his head down again, and tries it on the other nipple, and Shi De’s grip on his nape just gets tighter.

And Shi De is so beautiful under him. Every curve and angle, by just being his, reaching out to Shu Yi, pulling him in.

The notion and knowledge hits Shu Yi, so completely that he can’t remember a time where he wouldn’t think like this. Maybe he didn't, ever.

His fingers push into the waistband of Shi De’s boxer briefs:

“How… how about losing those?”

He feels Shi De nod yes against his shoulder.

When skin meets skin, there is friction, inside a careful rhythm, without lube, just precum. Shu Yi stays on top, but they are both moving. Full of trembling concentration, but wholly swept up in it.

Little movements, of them against each other, aligned; of pressure, a rolling of hips, a whole body thing.

The rasp of Shi De’s breath is so alluring in Shu Yi’s ears, trickling over sucked in stomachs and tight muscles; their chests touching, with hard nipples dragging over each other.

Hearing Shi De's deep voice directly from his throat, face so close, that Shu Yi can feel its makings, vibrations, all those breathy hums and gasps. It’s overwhelming, and mesmerizing to Shu Yi, and almost too much.

There’s a point where he must rely on instincts and muscle memory alone, because it all just wants to pull and bury him under.

It’s the point, where Shi De doesn’t seem to know where to turn his head, moving left and right and then:

“Kiss me.”

Shu Yi is desperate and delighted with the request, down to his very core.

And it seems that only then, safe inside that kiss, with their faces against each other, teeth against teeth, that Shi De can let go; dragging Shu Yi along with him.

Chapter 5 : Late

Shi De's POV.

“Gao Shi De… are you sleeping already?”

Shi De doesn’t clear his throat, just uses his voice anyway, cracked and low as he knows it will come out:

“I am used to early classes; I usually don’t go to sleep late.”

“It’s not that late, though.” That’s definitely a pout he hears.

They have been drifting. Heard the door earlier, when his mom came home. She was quiet, and must have gone to bed directly, because it’s been silent for over ten minutes.

Warm kisses are scattered haphazardly along Shi De’s chest.

He takes in a deep slow breath:

“Mhm. Maybe I am already asleep and dreaming this.” It comes out even dryer than he thought.

There’s a bout of huffed out breath onto his dampened skin:

“Oh, yeah. Well, would you be dreaming this?”

Shu Yi setts his lips down again, and actually blows a raspberry at the center of Shi De’s sternum.

“You…Zhou Shu Yi.”

Shi De tries and puts all the wordless offence he can muster into his face, even though it’s probably too dark to see anyway.

Shu Yi laughs softly, disarming all protests with the sweet and carefree sound.

Then he just brings his mouth down again, to Shi De’s stomach this time, even if only in a lingering, heat conducting kiss.

Lower then, pulling the sheets off and to the side.

Shi De’s heart skips some beats, stumbles.

“Shu Yi, you don’t have to…”

The look Shu Yi gives him, up close to his face again then, is complicated, and makes Shi De's skin feel flushed all along his neck:

“Gao Shi De. Do you still not believe I want this? You were present those last few hours, right?"

Shu Yi taps his index finger above Shi De's collar bone, right along with his words:

"And also, you said it yourself, I wouldn't do anything I don’t want to. “

Shi De’s tongue is heavy and awkward in his mouth. “I’m not saying that, it’s just…just...”

We don't have to do everything tonight.

He kows Shu Yi must be thinking of America, and Shi De gone, soon.

But I will be back. We'll have the rest of our lives together, if it's up to me.

Shi De can't know how much of it he manages put onto his face and lopsided smile, how much of it Shu Yi will be able to hear, even though Shi De is thinking it back at him, hard.

Shu Yi's eyes are on him, waiting and piercing right through Shi De. Shi De thinks he sees an almost imperceptible nod.

And then:

“So. Can I blow you?”

It's a riot in Shi De's heart.

And nothing, nothing left in his mind.

Shu Yi places the softest kiss onto the side of Shi De's jawline.

“I want to see you. And use my mouth on you.”

It's whispered and for a moment Shi De can't be sure it has been said at all.

He feels Shu Yi’s hand, gentle around his cheek.

Then Shi De is kissed.

His mouth nudged open by Shu Yi's, slow, broken out of that rhythm that they so naturally want to fall into;

he's brought to a moment of stillness, by command of Shu Yi's breath alone.

By the tilt of his chin and the pad of his thumb, carefully, on Shi De's Adam’s apple.

Then Shu Yi seals his mouth to him.

Wide open, and languidly teasing. Licking inside, until Shi De hears himself moan.

He is sure Shu Yi can feel him shake, everywhere their bodies touch.

“Does that mean yes?”

Shi De can only nod.

Chapter 6: Epilogue

Shu Yi' POV.

“Gao Shi Deeeee… Still sleeping?”

Shu Yi watches Shi De jump slightly at his voice, then his eyes drift closed again almost immediately. He lets out that breath through the subtle stretch of his body:

“Yeah.” The notes he uses as pillow crinkle below his head.

Shu Yi props himself up on his elbow next to him, holding his phone; and smiling, because how can he not:

“Tired?”

He keeps the phone directed at Shi De’s face, but his eyes can’t help but drop down, to that strip of exposed skin above his jeans. It brings flashbacks of night-tinged touches and tingles along Shu Yi’s lips and tongue.

“It’s all your fault.”

Shu Yi laughs, not much more than a gush of air. His fingers want to caress that patch of skin. So he reaches out, does.

Shi De’s muscles twitch slightly, as if ticklish, and his arm comes there to pull his sweater down, even if the fabric slips up instantly again.

The movement of his hands is sluggish, and so endearing. He’s half-asleep again already, and Shu Yi is entrusted with this.

“Alright, take a break.”

They’ve had a late morning and breakfast, and since it’s Saturday, took up studying again. With maybe only half a mind to it, but still the best intentions.

Shu Yi turns off his recording.

But he keeps watching Shi De:

The relaxed features of his face. His slack mouth. The soft rising and sinking of his chest. His throat when he swallows, with those almost inaudible, tender sounds.

Then Shu Yi decides to bury his face against the blue ocean of Shi De’s sweater.

And just listens to him breathe for a while.

Gao Shi De. Be mine like this, always.

Chapter 7: Bonus chapter

Shu Yi's POV

Seven years later.

It is not something for every night, for them, this.

But when it happens, all through the next day, Shu Yi’s knees will be weak with that sated, deep seated happiness. Shi De once told him with a smile, it is the same for him.

So Shu Yi will make sure to put all of his heart and effort and care into it, especially when he is the one who gets to make Shi De fall apart around and underneath him. When the question: What do you want tonight? gets a clear answer: You. Inside me.

Sometimes it’ll happen when Shu Yi brings out the seductive underwear. Not the first pair he bought; he threw that one out in an impulse after one year. He got a new one, later, once he found the shop still sold that model. He chose the all over neon pink one, though. If for punishment or a statement, well who’s to say.

So sometimes it’ll happen that Shu Yi will get Shi De right there and under him, Shi De's hands closing and opening, around the sheet or nothing, without thought or agenda, just a notion of mindless grip while allowing himself to fall.

Shi De’s eyes will be closed, his mouth open, letting himself chase that feeling, when Shu Yi hits that spot. Trusting Shu Yi to take him there.

And he will; using that same angle, that slowness, to meet as many of those sweet triggers as he can, until gasps and hums and the sound of his name tumble from Shi De’s throat at every careful thrust.

Sometimes Shu Yi will turn him over, and - face pressed into mattress – have him concentrate on nothing but his own bliss; kissing and biting his shoulders and neck, reminding him that he is there, and that this is because of him.

Today, though, he really wants to see Shi De’s face.

It’s their first anniversary as husbands after all.

So, sometimes, like today, it will happen that he has Shi De locked inside his embrace, not moving much at all;

with short but relentless strokes pressing into that one spot of almost too much, too good.

With Shi De’s brows drawn together and wetness collecting at the corners of his eyes;

until his breath shakes out of him.

And Shu Yi will tell him I love you all through it.

To make him come like this, it is the greatest gift and privilege.

Notes:

Because I don’t think Shi De’s metaphorical dam will break before the sequel. But when it has, it might just look something like this <3 Happy Valentine’s Day.

I've put the last 5 chapters up at once for Valentine's Day, but of course I'll always love to hear what you think, on each of them, on all of this, on Shi De and Shu Yi.

If you liked it, please consider a reblog to share the love. I always love to hear from you , about thi, about them, about what it makes you feel.<3

#wbl #we best love: no 1 for you #we best love #fanfic #first times #completed #this grew on me so much #sensuality #love #gao shi de #zhou shu yi

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hallowgracie · 3 years ago

Text

Villain Story Excerpt: The Day He Disappeared

author’s note | Villain Story is a future project set in the Atomic-verse as a standalone and direct sequel to the events of Atomic Rebooted following a new protagonist, a girl called Laura who quickly finds herself in a precarious relationship with the new greatest threat to the city, Titanio.

This is one of the flashbacks to Laura’s childhood—and one of the most important ones. Her childhood best friend, Nikola, disappeared under mysterious circumstances when they were both fourteen years old. This is Laura’s recollection of that night.

I hope you’ll enjoy this little preview of the next project I’ll be working on when Crystal Magic is done!

content warning | implied kidnapping, gore, violence, and murder

The night before Nikola went missing will always be imprinted into my mind. I could forget his face and his name before I’d forget that night.

I remember the night air, hot and humid compared to the cold, arid chambers of first the movie theater and then the monorail we’d just stepped off of.

By the suburbs, fireflies darted about, blinking their secret messages to one another and anybody who cared enough to listen.

We were laughing, allegedly about the movie, the latest Eternal Seas film and what was supposed to be the last one. But that wasn’t really what we were laughing about. It was the kind of laughter you can only give when you’re with your favorite person in the whole world. It comes from the joy of being together, of just being in each other’s company.

We were just strolling down the blocks of our neighborhood. Most parents wouldn’t let their fourteen-year-olds out late at night in our city—especially because Dr. Electra was still active at the time. Much less let us return whenever we wanted.

But my childhood wasn’t like that. You can have all sorts of adventures when you have a super-powerful best friend willing to follow you to the ends of the Earth.

Because my parents and Nikola’s knew that he would do anything to protect me.

I don’t think any of us knew what ‘anything’ would entail, however.

Not until that night.

It was supposed to be another perfect night in our idyllic childhood. Another one to file away with video games in the treehouse, ice cream trucks, and daring each other off the high dive at the public pool.

Everything was like that—up until a car stopped behind us and a man in black stepped out.

Nikola turned his back to me and stuck his hand out. The man went flying, skidding onto the pavement. There was blood on the road.

I screamed, my hands flew to my mouth—just as someone came up behind me and grabbed me, wrenching my arms behind my back. I cried out in pain, tears stinging my eyes. I kicked and screamed as more of them came out of the bushes, surrounding Nikola.

I screamed louder, trying to get anybody to hear us, to help us, to save us.

But no one was coming.

Nikola must’ve realized that about when I did. Because that was when he showed his true power.

He threw out his hands in wide, frantic arcs—and his power cut through them all, a scorching energy blade. It ended at the man holding me captive, cutting off his head. He crumpled to the ground, and I pulled away.

But I couldn’t pull my eyes away from what Nikola had done.

I might’ve started crying there, if I hadn’t somehow been able to look him in his shell-shocked eyes. He needed me.

Specifically, he needed me to be calm now, to be in control.

“Are you okay?” I think we ere both shaking, just standing there in the summer air.

“Yeah.” His voice was a million miles away. “You?”

“I’m going to be okay.” I nodded.

He looked over his shoulder all of a sudden—he must’ve heard something.

A stray cat walked on past the abandoned car.

“Someone probably heard that—and if they see this, then—“ His green eyes darted about in a panic. “Then Atomic Energy will come and—“

“Well, then we’d better get out of here before someone finds out.” I grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

We’d never run faster in our entire lives. Not even when we raced in the park, or on the playground in elementary school. Not even when we were running late to a family dinner my mom was holding for some of my dad’s co-workers.

Instead of going back to either of our houses, we hopped the perfect picket fence separating the backyard from the rest of the world.

By the time we heard sirens in the distance, we were safely in the treehouse.

It was only then that I became aware of the blood splatters on my tank top.

“I think if I wash this out, then we should be able to get away with this.” I plucked at the stained fabric, surprised at my own even tone.

Nikola said nothing. He sat curled into a little ball, knees to his chest, rocking slowly as he looked off into the distance with those shell-shocked eyes.

After a long silence, he looked up to me. The light still did not return in his eyes.

“Do you think anyone saw us?”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s nearly eleven, all the windows were dark.”

“I killed them.” His voice cracked. “Oh my god, I—“

“They were trying to hurt us, it was just self-defense, right?” I placed a hand on his arm. “It was just self-defense, no one would be mad at you if they knew.”

I paused. “And no one’s going to know. This can stay our secret.”

“Another one.”

I shrugged. “One of many.”

He closed his eyes, burying his face in his knees.

“You also saved my life.” My voice went soft, like falling snowflakes. “And I’m grateful.”

He looked back up at me. “I guess that makes it worth it.”

“And for what it’s worth, I thought it was a good night. Before those guys came.”

He managed a smile. “I should probably get you back home, then.”

I shook my head. “No, I want to make sure you get back safe.”

“It won’t be a problem.” He grinned, like everything was back to normal. “I can take care of myself.”

Like he hadn’t killed five men.

Like everything wasn’t about to change.

But I was stupid and I wanted to believe in him.

So I reluctantly nodded. “Fine. But only because you’re just hopping the fence next door.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Ashling.”

With that, we both went out of the treehouse and hopped back over the fence. I went inside, and looked back once, to make sure he was going in the right direction.

After all, it was just to the house next door.

Satisfied, I closed the door and ran upstairs. Mother had told me she wouldn’t stay up before she left, because she trusted Nikola would get me back home safe.

She was right about that.

But I wasn’t the one she needed to worry about all along.

I remember washing out my tank top, switching into pajamas, how I passed into such a deep sleep, the rest of the night only felt like a second passed.

When I woke up the next morning, I’d gotten dressed and headed over to the Faradays’ house, rang the doorbell and everything.

Mrs. Faraday cracked open the door, with circles under her eyes and wearing her favorite old pink bathrobe.

That’s when I knew, before she even put it to words.

“Nikola never made it home last night.”

#supervillain #enemies to lovers #childhood friends to lovers #superhero #Super powers #superpower #dystopia #scifi #science fiction #scifi fantasy #atomic-verse #atomicverse #villain story

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hobidreams · 6 years ago

Text

Stay Quiet | JJK {M}

you think the library is only a place for studying. jungkook convinces you otherwise.

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x reader genre: smut, a dash of fluff words: 2.7k contains: college au, public place, condomless sex, oral (f), dirty talk, you almost get caught, but you kind of like it a/n: spawned from the drabble prompt that’s bolded in the text! reposted, thanks to tumblr being tumblr.

You have one goal for this term: a 4.0 GPA. Or as close to it as you can get. Grad school application deadlines are coming up, and you’re so close to the end you can practically taste the celebratory beer on your tongue. The library has become your new home, open twenty-four hours a day for all your studying needs. Your new routine is waking up early and leaving late. You don’t actually mind spending so much time here, not if it’ll get you to the marks you want and need.

Unfortunately, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to share that opinion.

“Jungkook, stop staring at me,” you mumble as you flip the page of your textbook. “Is there something on my face?” You’re eight hours into today’s stretch and it’s just nearing dinnertime, so the crowd has thinned out a bit, leaving just a few study groups occupying the tables.

“No, you’re just pretty.” Jungkook grins, handsomeness radiating off him in his casual black tee and slightly mussed dark hair. Single silver hoops hang from his ears, your birthday present to him last year. He never leaves home without them.

You can’t help but smile at his words. He always makes you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even through the current exhaustion and grease and stress. You love him so much. Even though he’s totally distracting. “Thanks.”

“Aaagh, I’m bored. I’ve already browsed through all the Reddit threads and Facebook posts I can.” He throws his arms in the air in a stretch.

“You could just go home.”

“Home’s boring without you.”

You let your highlighter drop onto the table and meet his gaze. “If you’re going to stay, you should study.”

“I know all the material already.” He purses his lips as he taps his fingers on the tabletop to a quiet beat. “Plus… You’re wearing those sweatpants again.”

Your eyebrows knit. “What’s wrong with the sweatpants?”

“Nothing wrong, but it just… It makes me think of the last time you wore them.”

You try to wrack your brain for that particular memory but come up short. “What do you—"

“Can you please stop talking?” A person from the table next to you interrupts, annoyance in their squinted eyes and pouty mouth.

“Sorry,” you whisper, offering a raised hand in apology.

When you look back, Jungkook’s scribbling away on a scrap piece of notebook. Half a minute later, he tears it, hands it to you with a perfectly innocuous look on his face. You take the page, feeling a bit of high school nostalgia as you cast your eyes to his penned words.

Movie night. You wore them and your black thong, and I almost ruined ‘em when I stripped them off? Fuck. You came five times. It was amazing.

Are you blushing? You’re pretty sure you’re blushing, reading such filthy words in a public space. It’s coming back to you now, how you teased him by grinding your butt against him the entire night with subtle shifts. You had taken your delight in the way he became stiff in his jeans, emitting guttural grunts of frustrated arousal. He’d punished you (or was it a reward?) for it after, nice and slowly.

I can’t stop thinking about your pussy wrapped around me. So tight, so wet. If we were home, I’d already have my hands in your panties. Baby, I wanna touch you.

“Jungkook!” You whisper-hiss after finishing the second note he slips your way. “I have to study!”

He leans back, face infuriatingly neutral as he pushes away from the desk in the roller-chair. He adjusts his baggy top, your eyes drawn to his crotch as he pulls his shirt away and damn it, he’s half-hard. He knows what bulges do to you, especially his. You hate yourself for falling so easily for his seduction, heat already swirling in the pit of your tummy.

You suck in air through gritted teeth. You’re not going to get anything done like this; you need to set things straight. He’s already starting on his third note, amused by the faces you make as you read. You interrupt him. “Come with me.” You stand up.

Jungkook practically bounces to his feet, following close behind. He reaches for your hand along the way, sweetly lacing his fingers with yours. You’re heading for the very back of the floor among the stacks and shelves, where all the Old English books are stored, and no one ever goes. When you deem this to be as much privacy as you’re going to get, you whirl around.

“Jungkook, you can’t keep writing those notes.” You fight to keep your eyes on his, pointedly away from his crotch.

He’s not nearly as flustered as you. He calmly leans against the shelf with his arms crossed. “Why not? Are they affecting you?” That smirk. Ugh. All this time, and it still makes your heart flutter.

You don’t respond. Can’t, really, as he closes the distance between you with a few steps. His toned arms trap you in heat, breath warm against your forehead while he drops soft, promising kisses. Jungkook’s eager fingers start to trace the band of your sweatpants, just barely dipping inside to toy with the panties beneath. They’re plain, cotton, but still one of the hottest things Jungkook’s ever touched because they’re yours. “How wet are you under here?”

When he draws you closer, you can feel the outline of his full cock against your thigh. “Just let me have a taste, baby.” He palms your ass cheeks and if your pants weren’t in the way, he would hear the wet squelch of your soaked slit when he parts you.

You swivel your head, staring through the cracks of the books, hoping you won’t find another person among the tomes. “W-We’re in public, you know.”

“Please.” Jungkook licks his lips. “Don’t make me wait any longer to have you.”

You’ve lost. You know it by the flames that lick at your thighs, begging to be doused by his tongue. You know it by the knots tying themselves in the pit of your stomach, unraveled only by his touch. He drops to his knees and drags your pants down with him. You lean back against the surprisingly sturdy bookshelf and try to tell yourself that nobody comes back here anyway.

He flits that cute nose across your thigh, close enough to drink in the honey scent of your lust. “I’d say I’ll try to make this quick but... We both know I would be lying.” He trails a fingernail down your clothed slit. You shiver when he brings it back up, circling around your clit.

“We don’t have the time,” you mutter, too aware of the instinctual bucking of your hips to meet his fingers.

“You’re just impatient.” He whips his eyes up to meet yours, mirth clear in his dark irises as he gives you that mischievous bunny smile. But he’s nice to you, seeing as he’s in love with you and all. He eases your underwear halfway down your legs, enough to expose you to the stale library air and to his stare. He spreads you like he did before, this time the lewd noises clear and enticing.

Jungkook emits a low groan at the sight of your juices glistening, smeared all over the lips of your cunt. “You were gonna study while you were like this?” He dips his finger into you to gather droplets to use as lube for your clit. “You’re soaked, baby. Just from thinking about my cock?”

Your answer is a furtive whimper when he kisses your clit, tongue lavishing saliva and stimulation. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s addicted to your taste and how you twitch in response to the flicks, the licks. He can tell that you’re nervous right now, probably too aware that you could be caught as you keep looking around. But the fact that pleasure is burning away your fears? That turns him on.

Jungkook’s slim hands leave slight imprints on your thighs as he continues with coquettish strokes, flitting in and out. It’s an erratic rhythm to match your heart, twitching with fear at every slight noise or bump, afraid that someone will poke their head around the corner. But there’s a thrill with that too – one that you’ll probably never admit out loud but manifests itself in the jolts of bliss shooting through your nerves. It’s a high that Jungkook understands so well, adrenaline junkie that he is.

He can never hold out for too long after tasting your tangy sweetness. The tender exploration turns into something much more when he plunges his tongue into your cunt, shallowly fucking you as an infuriating preview for what his cock can do. If only he’d reward you with a finger. But he seems content to dart his tongue in and out, switching between that and a suction that makes your knees long to crumble. Your hands search for something to hold on to, eventually settling for a few dusty, thick-spined hardcovers.

“T-Too loud, Jungkook,” you stutter, sure that all his sucking and slurping is attracting too much attention among these confined walls.

“Can’t help it when you taste so good.” He smirks, looking filthy yet boyishly handsome with his lips all shiny, pink. “You know how much I love your pussy.” He presses a fond kiss to your clit, as if you wouldn’t believe him otherwise.

“Still… We have to stay quiet…” But you’re a hypocrite with the moans that tumble from your mouth, as unstoppable as the wetness drooling from between your thighs when he settles back in. If you were back home, you’d already be screaming his name and you both know it. You settle for burying your hands into his hair and raking your nails along his scalp.

“What if I want to hear you?” Jungkook grins because you’re grinding yourself onto his mouth. You can’t get enough of him despite yourself; his tongue’s just too convincing when it’s stroking its way up your heat. “Moaning like you always do when you come for me.” His hands grab palmfuls of your ass and squeeze. “Damn. Just thinking about it makes me so hard.”

When he lightly hollows his cheeks to add suction, every semblance of sanity slips from your mind. You tug his head higher as the shaking starts, but he doesn’t need your encouragement to keep his rapid pace. He’s seeking the reward of your whimpers as he draws out your climax until you’re too sensitive to go any further. At least, like this.

Jungkook surges to his feet. His belt and jeans clatter to the floor, pooling around his ankles before your aftershocks have had any time to subside. He spins you around, decisive hands not allowing any counterargument while your chest meets the shelf. All you can see through the musty books is the grey wall.

“S-Someone needs to keep a watch out.” You’re fretting, but the full, solid cock that nudges against your posterior demands your attention.

“Nah. Just focus on me.” One thrust, and he plunges the first delicious inch inside you. “Focus on how I’m going to fuck you, baby.”

It’s true – he makes it hard to think about anything else with the stretch of his cock, the girth addicting. His hands find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him as he snaps his hips upward. In three thrusts, he’s drenched himself wholly into your heat. He’s trying to control himself as best as he can but your walls cling eagerly to his shaft, spurring him on. The shelves slightly rattle against the concrete in reply.

“It’s been too long since I was inside you,” he growls, nipping at the column of your neck. “I missed this pussy so much.”

“Missed you too.” You’d forgotten how the pressure builds so furiously, racking up with each thrust that kisses your cervix. You try to adjust, wanting to staunch the slap of his hips against yours, but he’s pumping at a pace that refuses to be quieted. Hells, you’re close to just abandoning your inhibitions. It would be so much easier to just give yourself over to Jungkook, to let him fuck you both into moan-filled, sloppy orgasms among the silent audience of books.

Then you hear the footsteps.

Unmistakeable.

Padding across the carpet, steadily coming your way. Probably boots or something, judging by the heavy, noisy steps.

Your heart sputters. “Shit.” Cursing, you try to push Jungkook away so you can have some semblance of plausible deniability but his arms hold you still. His cock stays right where it is, plunged all the way to his balls. “Jungkook, someone’s coming!”

“Shhhh.”

“Oh god, they’re getting closer,” you whine. “They’re going to see.” Fear ripples through you but excitement is firmly alongside it – thrilling and obvious while your muscles tense.

Jungkook groans, a tortured, soft noise when your cunt cinches around his shaft. “Who’s my dirty girl?” He whispers against the rim of your ear. “Getting so tight. I think you want to be caught.”

“Jungkoook...” Now when you say his name, it’s in frustration. He’s only grinding his hilted cock, enough to make the slight friction agony.

“I think you want them to see you like this, so fucking gorgeous on my cock. Sucking me in so well.” A lazy crescendo of thrusts threatens to buckle your knees when they turn into deadly pumps, aimed right for your sweet spot. Your voice is higher than it’s ever been, high pitched and whiny in your need. It makes your boyfriend chuckle. “You’re not being quiet at all.”

Arching against him, you feel sweat trickle down your spine. “I’m t-trying...”

Suddenly, he slams himself all the way home. “Let’s put on a show, yeah?” You jolt forward, his grunts animalistic and low with each rut. One of his arms hooked around your waist, he moves like nothing else matters in the world except bringing you pleasure and taking it in turn. Every smack of his pelvic bone against your ass feels possessive and you can’t get enough, even though you can practically feel the new pair of an intruder’s eyes on you.

Your mingled lust drips in rivulets down from your cunt onto his balls, more trickling out with every stroke. He just keeps going, the stamina trained through hours upon hours at the gym put to fantastic use. Especially when he nudges your legs apart even more. He lowers two fingers to your neglected clit and starts to rub.

It’s not even a minute later that you’re coming helplessly, bucking your ass back into him in a carnal search for more. His fingers never stop sending pleasure through your veins. It’s a double-edged sword, bringing him crashing down with you seconds later. Jungkook shoves himself so deeply into you that it hurts, but it’s so worth it to hear his groans, to feel the hot burst of cum shot right against your core.

He doesn’t stop until your walls are thoroughly sodden with him, still spasming erratically in climax. You hang your head and just try to breathe through the humid air. Your cheeks burn, stroked by the hair fallen out of your ponytail. Having Jungkook pressed against you doesn’t help, for his temperature runs just as high.

A minute later, rationale returns to your addled brain as the spent cock slips from you. “Oh!” You spin, looking desperately around Jungkook and the shelves for any signs of your unwanted visitor. Your heart only calms when you confirm with your own eyes that there’s no one there. “Damn it, babe, we could’ve been kicked out if that person came any closer!” You lightly swat at his arm while he produces a tissue from a pocket, to soak up the leaking cum.

Jungkook laughs, thinking your glare is much more cute than intimidating. “I heard them leave a while back. You were just too distracted to notice.” He lightly touches your nose with his own – a soft, loving boop.

“Whatever...” Your cheeks flushed, you reach down for your sweatpants. “Will you let me study now?” You grumble. You’re not actually sure if you’ll get any work done though, not when your thighs and cunt are slick with pleasure’s mess.

Jungkook affectionately pats your butt. Then he buries his face in your hair for a kiss from a smirking mouth. “Maybe.”

#btssmutclub #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #jungkook x reader #rain writes #stay quiet #i reaaally hope this works #i give up if it doesn't

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deadagainmaevepetre · 4 years ago

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— we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at stars. ( part one of two )

SUMMARY: Maeve confronts her Papa about the truth of her mother’s death. PREVIEW: He does not blink as he searches her eyes, and she lets the fullness of her heart show for his perusal. Philip wonders if his daughter is serious; Maeve wonders if her father is beginning to believe. DATE & TIME: May 22, late night TRIGGER WARNINGS: murder mention, parental loss

Home. She is heading home.

Didn’t that meant something to her, once? Home is supposed to anchor her, and bring Maeve back to herself when she no longer recognizes the wild fear in her eyes or the calloused surface of her hands from a knife held too tightly for too long.

Somewhere along the way, the road becomes steep. The cracks on the pavement gives way to weeds and thorny brambles that slows her every step. Home is a broken and cruel word, and it chains her to the ache she cannot dislodge from her bones.

You’ll understand when you’re older, Papa says. He looks so sad, and she is so naive. It isn’t grief at all, like she thinks. It is the hopeless look of the dying, who has waded too far into the deep sea to even think of swimming back. In vain, he tries to spare his daughter. In vain, he tries to keep her in the light.

How could Maeve have understood? She doesn’t realize how far and wide the dark could get. A child, she wants only to follow her Papa and drag him out with small, unscarred hands.

The sky has swallowed the sun and the moon in its mouth, leaving only the lamplights to light her way. Maeve walks like a boulder is tied to each ankle. Her very expression is tired of wearing her emotions like a shield; without her heart in her eyes, Maeve resembles more zombie than girl. People shudder as they pass her in the streets.

Home waits for her, and it will consume her now that the truth has shattered whatever illusions Maeve has left. She knowingly pushes forward to confront the abyss that awaits her.

Her Papa is cleaning his gun at a table when she opens the door. A laugh gets tangled up in her throat and dies before Maeve can make a sound. Is this normal? Is this the picture of a happy life and a happy family that she dreamt?

“Where have you been?” He doesn’t meet her eyes. For a moment, Maeve wonders if he already knows. But then she remembers that he is still holding onto his pride. In the beginning, he had been furious, but the purity of a single feeling wears out her father to the bone. Exhausted, he has already let go of his anger. Stubbornly, he does not lower his defenses.

Maeve steps out of her shoes and closes the door behind her. “I’ve been asking questions.”

“Never a good sign.” Her Papa sets the gun down. When he looks at her, Maeve searches for the man she wants to see. A good man. An honest man. Has he always looked so empty?

“Questions about Mamma.”

His fingers twitch, and Maeve knows he wants to take the gun into his grip again. Something to protect him, as if a weapon will carve out the part of him that are weak and human — the parts she loves most. Everything she wants him to be, he will claw out from under his own skin.

She’s always known it. For the first time, Maeve is willing to get on her knees and beg for him to prove her wrong. Before, the thought terrified her. Who is she if her Papa scorns her? What is she left with if her Papa denies her? There is too much at stake to even ask the question, but Maeve doesn’t need to ask to know that irreparably, Philip Petre loved — loves — Maria Petre.

“Why?” he asks, hoarsely. “What good is it to bring the dead to life, Maeve?”

It’s not the response Maeve expects, but the surprise rolls off her shoulders easily. Never before has his daughter spoken of his wife so boldly. It is natural, then, that her Papa reacts so strangely — as if he knows what is coming, as if he knows it will do neither of them any good.

“But what if you were wrong, Papa?” In one hurried motion, Maeve takes a seat across from him and leans forward. She puts her hands on the table, palms facing upwards in wait of his own to hold. “What if your enemy is not your enemy? What if it’s your friends who betrayed you?”

The air is cold against her palms.“Spit it out, Maeve.”

Her nails dig into her skin as her hands form fists, anxious crescent moons forming. “The Capulets killed her, Papa.”

It is the silence that betrays the human heart. The empty, gaping chasm where words should fall and soothe the spirit — it cannot lie. Neither, too, can the resignation in her Papa’s eyes. Maeve sees, for perhaps the first time, the massacre that lurks within the dark of his irises. Among the name of the killed and forgotten is her own. Maeve Petre. The daughter he leaves behind at every opportunity. The child he treats like a ball and chain to his ankle, forcing him to relive his loss and grief over and over again.

Her hands tremble as she pulls them back to her lap. The body knows before her heart and mind: it is happening again. Maeve may run however she’d like, but the body remembers the imprint of that horrible night. When her Papa came home with blood dripping from his fingertips, the cruel light of the moon casting a long shadow. She’s beginning to feel it again. The disappointment, the tightness of her every breath, the terror that grips her so tightly she can hardly speak.

But speak she does, in a choked whisper: “You knew?”

When he only turns his cheek as if he did not hear her, Maeve amends her question. “You knew.”

“You’ll understand when you’re—“

“When I’m older,” Maeve finishes for him. “I don’t need to understand, I don’t want to understand. The Capulets killed Mamma, they lied to you — and you’re still working for them? You’ve forgiven them for ruining your life?” Her chin lifts with weak defiance. “They ruined my life, too.”

“I told you not to join.” He looks at her with the stern look of a father, and if Maeve just closes her eyes and wishes it, she can just imagine that he does this out of love and concern for her. But he isn’t, he isn’t, and she must remember that.

“You didn’t tell me it was because they’re the reason we’re trapped here! I thought you wanted me to be safe.” The tears fall and Maeve lets them. Where her Papa hides and suffocates every feeling, she will brave her own and wear them on her sleeve. She will be the example her Papa never was for her. “This is wrong, Papa. This is so messed up.”

“You said it yourself, stella mia. We are trapped.” This time, it’s her Papa who extends his hand for Maeve to take. “I found out the truth when I was already deep into their operations. Do you think they would have let me run? Do you think they would have stopped at killing my wife?” A shadow comes over his eyes, sinister and inhumane. “You saw what they did to the Montague rat. With everything I know, I would be lucky to have that punishment.”

The shadow flees, and in its place settles the father Maeve likes best. His eyes flicker with tenderness, all for her. “Stella mia, they will not hesitate to take you away from me too.”

For a second that stretches until it feels like minutes, Maeve stares at her Papa’s calloused and scarred hands. She can accept the harsh reality he offers, so brutally colored. It’s true, isn’t it? The Capulets are merciless, and will not forgive disloyalty. Is a life worth living when your dreams are slashed to bits? What is worth sacrificing, to see the world full of light and lovestruck again?

With deliberate slowness, Maeve takes her Papa’s hand. She squeezes gently, brings his knuckles to her lips. “But you were alone, then. You have me now, Papa. Together, we can be free.” Her grip strengthens as she senses his immediate rejection. For the first time, her eyes shine and glisten with unsoiled hope. “Orion and Rafaella are in Amsterdam, Papa. We can find them, and they’ll help us. Well, Orion will help us, and he’ll convince Rafaella to help us. Please, Papa…”

Her Papa stares at her like he doesn’t recognize her at all.

“Stella mia, that’s what you call me, right? Maybe, Papa, I’m the star that’s supposed to guide you out of your nightmares. Maybe I’m the shooting star that will make your dreams come true. Maybe I can save you, save us.”

He does not blink as he searches her eyes, and she lets the fullness of her heart show for his perusal. Philip wonders if his daughter is serious; Maeve wonders if her father is beginning to believe. Even as he disentangles his fingers from her own, she dreams of the new life they will build, together.

“Maeve.” He cups her cheek and she leans into his palm. “To be a star, you must burn.”

#self para #maevedevelopment #murder mention tw #parental loss tw #d: may 22

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superherotigerarchives · 6 years ago

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Hey Luna!

It's so great to hear from you! I've been alright, had a few health problems last week but I'm back on track and doing much better now. And yeah isn't Emfy awesome?! I should draw her sometime :D As for you sketch request, I thought you might like this Light in the Dark inspired picture instead! (Don't fear, I haven't given up on the story, I've just been super busy with work!)

And though I can't give you a date, I can give you a preview of the next chapter, The Star Gaze! Hope you enjoy, and may the force be with you, always!

The Star Gaze snippet below the cut:

...

Sabine's POV I turned to my side, the wooden frame of the bed creaking at my unrest. The room was shrouded in darkness, and the painted walls and colourful murals seemed dull in the dim glow of moonlight from outside the window. A cool breeze wafted across my skin, but I didn't feel the chill. I didn't feel anything, in fact. I was completely and utterly, empty. Shifting my gaze across the roof, my eyes fixed onto the painting directly above my head. It was a simple tribute to the family I'd grown to love, with Kanan, Hera, Zeb, and even Ezra held in a headlock by the the older boy. I had added the blue haired orphan to the mural not long after he'd joined the crew, specifically the day after he stood up to that bully in my defence. It was an act of loyalty, one he continued to show in the weeks that followed, treating me as an equal, and as a friend. And for that reason I thought it was only fitting to include him in the painting. In fact all of them had proven their friendship over the two years I had stayed with the family. When I first met Kanan, leading him on a wild chase through the streets after trying to steal some food, he hadn't treated me like a thief, but rather someone who was lost and in need of guidance. I had only been planning to linger in the city long enough to regain my energy after running away from my border school back in Mandalore, where my parents had dumped me and the Imperials reigned over the city from the shadows. So not knowing my way around the new town, I had accidentally trapped myself in a dead end alley, the officer blocking my only escape. But he didn't approach, even as I spat sharp insults at him. 'We don't have to fight,' I remember him saying. 'I can help you.' 'I don't need help by the likes of you,' my words had tumbled out, eyes narrowed into slits. His teal gaze was gentle and understanding, stating rationally 'The nights get cold here, in Lothal. Without proper shelter you'll freeze to death.' 'I'd rather die," I hissed, knowing fully if he arrested me and learnt my true identity, I'd be shipped back to Mandalore without a second thought. And I would never let that happen, not after everything I'd seen... But the officer didn't falter, quickly gazing over me before he observed 'You're Mandalorian.' I scowled at the man. 'I can tell by the way you hold yourself,' he said calmly. 'You're bold, and fierce, and strengthened with pride.' I remained silent, but continued to glare at him with sharpened vision. 'But even though you're stubborn, I also know mandalorians aren't stupid,' he added sharply, gesturing to the towering, grey alleys as he spoke 'So you can stay here, with no shelter and no source of warmth. The snow is unforgiving, and some people in this town can be colder than the temperature.' I paused, my muscles bunching up tensely. 'Or," he continued, his voice softening. "You can come with me. I'll take you back to the station, and see if there's any available foster parents that would take you in-' 'I'm not joining any foster family!' I hissed, switching back to an offensive at the mere suggestion. 'You don't have to stay with them,' he explained cooly. 'You can just stay the night, and once morning comes, you're free to be back on your way.' My body froze for a few seconds, before I arched my brow suspiciously. It all seemed a little too good to be true, and I wasn't about to be stabbed in the back once more. 'Why would you do that?' I growled. His teal gaze clouded for a moment, darkened with memories as he glanced up at the abandoned, looming structures above. He seemed lost, and somewhat saddened, before he finally returned his gaze to me, and spoke softly 'Because I remember sleeping in these streets when I was a kid. And I remember wishing someone, anyone had offered me a house, or a bed, or a blanket, just for one night.' My anger stilled, and I immediately felt the adrenaline seep from my veins. I could see from the haunted look in his eyes that he was telling the truth, and the comforting warmth in his tone that he did genuinely want to help. Allowing my shoulders to sag in exhaustion, I took a deep breath and thought over my options with extreme care. 'No questions?' I finally asked, levelling my gaze with his. 'None what so ever,' he replied, adding lightly 'Not even a name.' Thinking over it for a few moments, I finally made my decision. And with that, I'd reluctantly approached the officer, shaking his hand to confirm the deal. By the time we'd made it back to the station and he'd contacted suitable foster parents, I realised my trust in the man was far more than that of anyone else I'd encountered in the town. And when the foster parents arrived, and Kanan shook my hand goodbye, I found myself hesitating. And as if understanding my thoughts, he'd offered his home instead, where he and his partner fostered abused and orphaned children with open arms. I accepted his offer to stay the night. One night became two, and two became three. Days turned to weeks as I continued to prolong my leave anxiously, until by the end of the month, Kanan and Hera sat me down and proposed an idea. The idea to become their foster child. I took their offer willingly, and from there on my life became brighter than ever. They never pried or questioned, always allowing me to tell them things in my own time. They gave me so many opportunities and freedoms, and with each passing day my hardened exterior soften towards a more optimistic, carefree teenager. I'd grown to love art and music, and often found myself getting lost in the colours and sounds as a way to forget my former life. I was a new person now, so much more different to the girl who'd stumbled through the streets two years ago... But as I stared at another figure in the middle of the mural above, gazing down at me with bright hazel eyes and a cheerful smirk, I felt my muscles tense. I almost didn't recognise her, as the bright glow of her stare had disappeared in my own. The image reflected myself like a mirror and yet I seemed to be staring at a stranger. Or maybe, I was the stranger... Shifting uncomfortably under the eyes of my family -or at least, my old one-, I shrugged off the layers of blankets and sat up. The cool air hit me immediately, the hairs on my arm standing on end as I stretched and gracefully rose to my feet. Standing in the centre of my room, I couldn't help but feel my chest ache when my eyes scanned the walls of the space. End to end, it was painted and coloured with some form of artwork, engulfing the room with clashes and swirls of paint that wound together like the waves of an ocean. And the figures I once imprinted onto the walls to express my joy now only enlightened my sorrow within. I couldn't bare to look at it anymore. The place that had been my home, my life for the past two years lacked the sensation of safety it once possessed. My nerves began to buzz as I anxiously shifted to foot to foot. This wasn't right... I needed to leave. I needed a way to escape-! I jumped when a faint knock on my door vibrated through the stagnant air. For a long moment I just stared at the handle, oxygen trapped in my lungs as I tensed my legs to run. But forcing my mind to calm, I reminded myself that there was no reason to run from whoever was behind the door. It could only be someone from the crew, and hence there was no reason for alarm. Composing myself, I stepped forward and took hold of the door handle before cautiously creaking it open. I was surprised to see a pair of ocean blue eyes gazing back at me, widening the gap a bit more to get a clear view of the boy's face. "Ezra?" I murmured softly, tilting my head in confusion. He pressed a finger to his lips as a signal to be quiet and gestured towards my room. Understanding quickly, I stepped to the side and allowed him inside, gracefully sliding into the room as I shut the door behind him. Turning to face my guest I watched curiously as he approached my window, jiggling the hinges carefully and tapping on the lock. Crossing my arms I asked sharply "What are you doing?" "Seeing if your window is as secure as mine," he replied nonchalantly, running his fingers along the rim. I blinked in surprise, before approaching the distracted teen and hissing "Are you trying to run away?!" "No," he smirked, glancing over at me with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "We're running away." I froze. "We're what?!" "Only for the night of course. Corporal would kill me if I ever tried to run agai- Ah, bingo!" he grinned, cutting himself off as his fingers found a grove in the frame and pried it open with a sharp jolt. I was surprised to find it had made hardly any noise, the window sliding open with no resistance. Stunned and a little confused, I watch blankly as the boy climbed through the window and onto the tiled, sloping roof beyond. Gazing back at me, he gave me a puzzled look. "Well?" he asked. I scoffed, replying "Are you serious?" "Completely," he smiled, leaning against the frame as he added swiftly "Now get dressed into something plain and old, I'll be waiting on the ground for you." Stepping forward I muttered "We can't just leave!" "Why not?" He quizzed. I hesitated for a moment, before replying firmly "I have to go tomorrow, you know that." "So what's wrong with going out for the night?" He quipped, his eyes beaming with electricity as he spoke "We'll be back before they know it." My brows furrowed sceptically. "Aw, come on," he spoke, gazing towards the city that shone beyond the suburbs before asking "Surely you want to blow off some steam before tomorrow?" "What makes you think that?" I growled lightly. "Would you be awake at two in the morning otherwise?" He pointed out sharply. My eyes narrowing, I turned and shifted my gaze around the dull room. The shadows shifted along the walls, and the colours seemed flat and unappealing. I wouldn't be able to sleep... Not like this. I was far too wound up to rest, and old habits began creeping back as my anxiety took hold of my limbs. I knew I needed to go to bed. Tomorrow was a big day, and this was the last night I'd ever spend with the crew... And yet I found myself turning towards the boy, his blue orbs focused on me intently as he awaited my answer. Crossing my arms, I stated firmly "I'll be down in two minutes." His lip tilted into a lopsided smile, replying cockily "Knew you'd come to your senses eventually." I rolled my eyes at his retort, before asking sharply "So where exactly are we going?" He stepped away from the windowsill with great care and began to descend the roof. But just before he went to slide down a drainpipe, he shot me a playful smirk and replied "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you now, would it?"

#swr #star wars rebels #swr fanfiction #fanfiction #The Light in the Dark #Ezra Bridger #Kanan Jarrus #Sabine Wren #Real Life AU #Midnight Luna #Tiger talks

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doreenhamrick99-blog · 6 years ago

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msexplorer · 6 years ago

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"In my last energy update, I discussed the numerical signs and synchronicities that confirm you are aligned with and entering the 11:11 portal. Such signs included seeing 1111 on license plates, 11:11 on clocks, any repeating numbers, as well as ascending sequences, such as 123, 456, or 789. These signs indicate that your inherent spiritual impulse has been initially awakened leading you on a journey to return into full alignment with the light and embody your soul as an anchor of 5D unity consciousness.

It is important to note, this process of spiritual evolution is an energetic rite of passage. It unfolds uniquely for each of us when we have evolved to a point of readiness and not a matter of reward or punishment of any kind. As this process unfolds, you play an essential role in helping it unfold with the utmost ease, grace, compassion, and joy. We cannot ever stop this process, although we are capable of slowing it down to an agonizing pace, until our choices match up with the inner wisdom of our soul’s essence.

Since we know the numerical sequences signify a preparation toward 11:11 portal entry, what are some of the symptoms that occur as you enter it?

The 4 Stages of Clearing

There are 4 key stages we pass through as we move through the 11:11 portal. Each one stripping away layers of the old carbon-based DNA, clusters of limiting beliefs, and clearing out imprints of outdated cellular memory. These 4 stages are actually emotional states that orbit our experiences, clearing out each layer of 3D debris, until we are aware of their highest purpose and can meet each one with respect, acceptance, gratitude, and honor. These 4 stages are: loneliness, boredom, frustration, and confusion.

From a 3D perspective, it is believed that circumstances in our outside world, such as people places, and things cause us to feel the way we do. From a 5D perspective, everything in physical form is triggering in us all the aspects of our soul’s evolutionary process to clear out and activate what each of us brought into this lifetime to resolve for our own journey, as well as a living contribution toward healing and awakening the collective consciousness.

Imagine: you are going about your day, feeling various patterns of confusion, frustration, loneliness, and boredom, only assigning personal meaning to the characters or circumstances in view, unaware how these specific feelings indicate an advancement out of 3D consciousness and into a new dimension occurring through the 4th dimension of time.

Dispelling Some of the Myths that Impede Our Flow

Let us take a moment to dispel a few myths to allow our entry into the 5th dimension to be as smooth and exciting as possible. Many spiritual seekers believe that processes such as these only happen to those who live on their best behavior. While it is true that fully aligned souls embody a frequency of empathy, compassion, vulnerability, and love that remains ever-present and unwavering once embodied and integrated, it is unnecessary to work so hard to be a certain way, as if your soul’s journey is an obstacle course.

As we’ve come to know, the way we heal the layers of conditioning and imprinting within ourselves is by being emotionally triggered. The purpose isn’t trying to be trigger-free and above our experiences, but to develop such conscious relationships with each feeling that anything we feel on the inside doesn’t cause us to lash out toward others on the outside.

As we shift from 3D to 5D consciousness, there may still be disappointment, heartbreak, grief, and sadness, but our inner pain doesn’t instigate us into projecting our pain onto others. In other words, as we evolve, our hurt doesn’t motivate us to hurt others. Instead, we are willing to take the time to go within, honor each feeling, as a milestone in our evolutionary process by breathing through each emotional wave and loving our hearts to the best of our ability.

Another myth is imagining we are supposed to feel good all the time as we evolve from one dimension to another. While there can be bursts of joy and moments of clarity and renewed passion, these act as sneak previews of how life will be, once we’ve fully integrated our new 5D crystalline DNA into physical form.

Its not that we have to be in pain in order to evolve, as much as pain represents a potent energetic expansion underway that we are often viewing from just a physical or emotional perspective. As we evolve, we still care for our bodies and seek medical care when necessary, while learning how each health scare, emotional outburst, change in life direction, and relationship represents the unfolding of a greater cosmic journey.

While there is always a deeper spiritual reason why everything happens, another myth is trying to quickly learn as much as you can, hoping to not repeat our most uncomfortable experiences. While we are destined to learn from each outcome to inspire higher forms of wisdom to motivate more empowered choices, it only occurs when we approach each moment with earnestness, authenticity, humility, and transparency. The Universe knows when an ego’s agenda is to manipulate the soul’s learning curve to avoid the anticipation of future pain, which acts as a tell-tale sign of the ego’s inner fight as it gradually surrenders through this process.

Another myth is believing you are capable of surrendering your ego, which only creates more of an inner battle between fragmented parts. Instead, you are the space of eternal light, whose unconditional love gives the ego permission to recognize that it is safe to let go of you and enter the doorway of light back to Source.

And, one of the biggest myths of all, is believing entry points into 5D consciousness require a grandiose external mystical experience to confirm its arrival. In both 3D, 4D, and 5D, the physical body exists within the existence of time and space. The difference being, in 3D, you perceive yourself as a person in time surrounded by space. In 5D, you are the spacious witness or inner observer experiencing life as a person throughout a journey of time. The body may be rooted in time, but the inner observer or spacious witness is beyond the dimension of time.

A Journey Through Time to Discover the Timeless

Each of your sensory experiences occur in time. Every outcome, sensation, or change can be correlated to occurring at certain measurable moments. All the while, the one on the inside who sees, feels, hears, and knows all that occurs in time is not existing in time at all. Ironically, it is a journey of time that helps awaken the recognition that you are the timeless within and throughout it all.

This indicates how the journey from 3D to 5D is adjusting to life at a higher altitude of consciousness, where we are no longer searching for the light, but the light within our bodies experiencing its journey of evolution from a more conscious and timeless perspective. Even if these words inspire any degree of frustration, boredom, loneliness, or confusion, it is purposefully happening by the Universe to help you clear deeper layers as you move through the 4th dimension of time and adjust to life from a 5D perspective.

Passing through the 4 stages of boredom, loneliness, frustration, and confusion to release outdated carbon-based DNA, limiting clusters of beliefs, and outdated cellular memories is a journey known as dark night of the soul. In my next energy update, I will outline dark night of the soul in explicit detail. For many of us, we’ve been in the depths of this process for quite some time and are now completing this process to adjust to 5D reality, much like learning to breathe at a higher altitude where the air is thinner.

Experiencing Psychic Burnout

When we are making our way out of dark night of the soul and entering the new altitude of 5D consciousness, we are likely to experience the profound exhaustion of what I call psychic burnout. From this space, energy is limited, sleep is disturbed, and motivation may feel at a standstill. During this phase of initiation, we may not seem to perceive much guidance or inner direction; unsure who we are, where to go, or what to do.

This is because due to the amount of clearing and expanding occurring during the dark night of the soul phase, our bodies needs to rest, recharge, and rejuvenate, in order to build up the inner chi energy to activate our new crystalline DNA. This is much like a newborn wondering who it is, what it’s purpose is, what it should do, and where it should go, unaware that it must grow through stages of infancy before anything else can be known or revealed.

Psychic burnout is a time to slow down the pace of our lives, especially slowing down the way we approach spiritual evolution. Instead of trying to race to the finish line out of fear of missing a window of opportunity or being left behind, we allow each moment to be as intentional, and deliberately aligned with our highest wisdom, as we move through time and space as authentically and openly as possible. It is a time where our immune systems are rebooted into 5D reality, as our adrenals get repaired to be uplifted by 5D light frequencies, instead of short circuited. Most importantly, it is where our subconscious minds learn to recognize 5D reality as familiar instead of foreign, which gives our nervous systems permission to welcome 5th dimensional experiences of unity consciousness into our awareness.

This is truly the most exciting time to be alive and it is my honor to use the power of my healing transmission to radically transform your journey, so we can each experience the absolute bliss and holy perfection of our soul in human form. We cannot look at the political landscape or even the mentality of the world to know how much evolution is taking place. We can only look at ourselves to recognize the process underway, while learning how to be the most loving, patient, and faithful ally to our own awakening process.

Our brand-new beginning is here. This is where we step into our highest purpose of being and have a lot of fun along the way."

- Matt Kahn

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ikevamp-shrine · 4 years ago

Text

To Love A Van Gogh: Chapter 1

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairing: Theo x MC (Juliet)

Tags: Sex, dirty talk, nudity, mentions of throw up, mentions of possible pregnancy, swearing

Word Count: 2040

Editors: @stardust-dreamer13 and @littlecinnamonroll (thank you two so much)

Preview:

The wet slapping of skin resonated through the morning air, mixing with the soft moans slipping past her red, swollen lips. Their bodies were caught in a lustful dance of passion; their hands tracing the curves and dips of the others’ skin, memorizing each detail. Firm lips planted searing hot, opened mouth kisses along the thick tendon of her neck; her face turning away to allow her lover more space to paint his colors in the form of fiery love bites.

Quick puffs of air floated over Theo’s shoulder as his arms wound around her slick torso. The trembling of her legs against the straining muscles of his thighs brought a shaky smirk to his lips. Shifting his knees further under her rear, Theo whimpered at the heat gripping his cock. Her walls clenched around his member as he thrusted in and out; each movement causing a lewd squelch to sound. His voice was deep and thick with overwhelming pleasure, “mijn schatje…."

He groaned into her open mouth, their tongues fighting for dominance. Their teeth clashing as her nails raked down the flexing planes of his back.

“Damn it- you’re going to… drive me insane.”

A shiver slid over Juliet's body. Electricity shot over her scalp, tumbling over the curve of her spine, splashing in waves down her legs, firing like lightning strikes from her curling toes.

Theo’s hips snapped wildly against her plush skin, his breath quickening at the almost feral moans and yelps of pleasure slithering into his ear as the woman wrapped tightly in his embrace tiptoed the edge of ecstasy. His back stung, his manhood throbbing with so much pressure it felt as if his skin would split. Theo could still taste the sweet delicacy of her cum on his tongue, his fangs drawing patterns along the junction of her neck, forcing a mewl from the shivering woman. Theo felt as if he was burning from the inside out; thumping sounded as his forceful thrusts shook the bed.

“Come on- come for me, show me how well I fuck you- show me how good I make you feel,” growled Theo, the sound of his husky voice swollen with a grating rasp made her dig her nails into his hips, imprinting crescent moons into his flushed flesh. His lips parted as his jaw went slack, shuddering breaths escaping the warm caverns of his mouth.

“Theo,” she panted. A clench, a shaky moan, the fluttering of lashes, and she dived deep into the merciless sea of pleasure. The waves crashed over her writhing form as her soft breasts bounced. The vampire once again whimpered at the heat engulfing his form as his head snapped back, her fingers tugging insistently at the caramel tuffs of his hair. She gripped his cock with determination, the thick appendage disappearing deep within her walls as stormy blue eyes rolled shut, his jaw tensing with each rough thrust.

Theo’s chest pressed firmly against his lover’s, the rubbing of their nipples adding to the sensation; his stomach coiled, showcasing every ripple of muscle as he followed the path she drew, pointing straight towards the sea he willingly threw himself into.

Collapsing on his side, the vampire drew in his dazed lover, her body molding into the ridges of his own as he planted quick kisses along her forehead. A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, “That was a wonderful way to wake me up, hondje.”

Juliet matched his laugh, remembering the sleepy moans that emitted from the man when she had slipped his cock into her warmth as he slept a few moments before. He had shot up, wrapping her in his arms and flipping their positions to where he could thrust deeply into her as she clawed wildly at his back once she had started to reach a climax.

“I think we need to take a bath,” she continued, rubbing a soothing hand over his shoulders and red marked back.

“Such a greedy little hondje.”

His teases tickled her ear. Theo, wrapping Juliet in the comforter and tugging some pants on, slipped his arms under her body; the familiar weight and warmth of her limbs relaxing in his protective hold.

….

The water was warm and fragrant, resembling the earthy freshness of roses and lavender; the scent brought a calming aura that surrounded the couple slowly floating in the steaming liquid. Theo’s fingers slipped through her long hair, the conditioner he had lathered onto the strands ridding her of any tangles. His chest was smooth against her back, his knees surprisingly comfortable as he supported her weight. While her mind was still spinning from their escapades, her heart beat with nervousness.

She swallowed thickly, “Theo?”

He hummed in response, his fingers lightly massaging her shoulders. He had always been so caring after he made her scream his name during passionate moments of lust, which had confused Juliet at the beginning, but now she found solace in his gentle touches and delicate kisses. Juliet opened her mouth only to shut it quickly and bite her lip.

“What is it hondje? Are you hungry for some kibble?” Theo murmured, his nose tracing the curve of her neck. Her stomach growled in response drawing a huff from the female and a reverberating, content chuckle from the male.

“Did you ever have children?”

Theo froze at Juliet’s wavering tone, the euphoric emotions he had been feeling slowly dripping away, only to be replaced with something resembling regret, before answering in a controlled voice, “I had a son.”

“Will you tell me about him?”

He pulled away from his lover, sending a bittersweet pang through her heart at his actions. His brow was furrowed, lips pulled taut, stormy blue eyes finding purchase in the gentle lapping of waves against the marble flooring of the bath. Theo’s jaw clenched as he struggled to find his next words, “I couldn’t really tell you all that much about him. I had put more time into my work than I did into my relationship with my wife and son.” Juliet’s heart throbbed painfully as he continued. “He was a good boy- I know that much; had my work ethic too. He wasn’t all that interested in art, but he did enjoy architecture.”

Theo sighed, glancing back at Juliet who had eyes so much like the stars, so full of wonder and beauty it made Theo swallow a lump in his throat.

Theo growled with frustration, “I would be able to tell you more if I wasn’t such a shitty father and husband back then." Roughly running a hand through his damp caramel tresses, Theo turned around, placing his elbows down on the floor, resting a heavy head in his hands. He couldn’t look at her; he felt as if he didn't deserve to look at the woman he fell so hopelessly in love with. Regret and shame ran rampant through Theo, even if his outward appearance remained even-tempered.

Staring at the pinkish, puckered scar on the Dutch man’s back, Juliet sighed, sliding her arms around Theo’s waist and placing a kiss between his tense shoulder blades. She didn't know what to say.

Theo’s voice startled her out of her tranquility, “why are you asking?”

Her question was muffled by his skin, “if you had the chance to try again, would you take it?”

Theo turned around once more, pushing Juliet away gently so his hands could rest on her shoulders. His chest squeezed at the tears brimming in her eyes, his brows pulling together as he observed his lover under trained eyes. He studied her nervous fidgeting and worried - slightly hopeless - expression like he would a piece of art waiting to be appraised. His heart beat wildly as he considered her thoughts.

“I’m only going to ask you this once, so listen very close hondje… are you asking because you’re being nosy or because you're pregnant?” A tear slipped down her cheek, dripping off her chin and into the water.

Theo wiped away the wet trail left by the salty substance. His lungs felt like they were in the grasp of a vengeful hand, the digits ridding the art dealer of the ability to take in oxygen. He stared at the way Juliet’s jaw clenched, her chin twitching with emotion, her lashes fluttering. She glanced off to the side, her voice tight with worry and nervousness, “I think- I don’t know. I haven’t had my period in a while, and I’ve thrown up in the morning three days in a row, and I keep having headaches, and weird cravings, and my boobs are sore, and-.”

Theo interrupted her rapid ramblings, his own voice slightly frustrated, “you’ve thrown up? Why didn’t you tell me? You do realize I’m supposed to take care of you, correct? After all, you are still a pup.”

“Are you serious? I’m telling you I think I’m pregnant and you’re still making dog comments- great, that’s just great.”

A boisterous laugh echoed around the room as Theo tugged a squirming Juliet back into his arms.

“Let me go!”

“Hondje,” called Theo, his voice so soft it honestly shocked Juliet to the bone, “look at me.”

She continued to struggle, her stubbornness being her only motivator, until her body went limp in his arms and her tear-filled eyes reluctantly met his own tender colored orbs. His palms were warm against the sticky skin of her cheek.

“We will be okay. We’re not sure if you are pregnant yet, so stop worrying about something that might not happen,” Theo continued deeply, his voice sending shivers down her spine, the ending syllables rolling like thunder clouds before a storm: tranquil, low, and mystifying.

“You’re one to talk.”

“Haha- whatever. I will schedule an appointment with the local doctor in town and we can go together. Will you stop being so pathetic now?”

Though his words were harsh and slightly sarcastic, Juliet knew he didn’t mean it. She nodded, curling into his tight embrace as he once more supported her weight.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she mumbled, her hand smoothing over the curve of his chest to feel his heart thump beneath the muscle.

“Which one?”

“If you had the chance to try again would you? I’m asking if you want children, you dimwit.”

“Careful now Hondje, I will still punish you.”

Her lips were soft against his own as Theo traced a promise filled kiss on her mouth, his hands sliding up her spine to bring her body closer, their foreheads touching gently as he whispered, “it would be my greatest honor to have a family with you."

Giddiness bubbled inside of Theo as the mental image of a babbling baby, so similar to the woman wrapped tightly in his arms, squealing and kicking at the air in excitement slithered through his mind. He thought of how Juliet would look with a full belly, her skin flushed with a glowing blush, her cheeks plump with healthy weight from pregnancy. He continued, a soft smile slowly tugging at his lips, "to see our little pups running around, causing havoc, and pissing off the other residents would honestly be hilarious. Stop with this unnecessary fretting.”

Juliet huffed, letting her head fall heavy against his warm, wet chest as Theo stared at the top of her scalp, his deep breaths calming her racing heart. She had been worried- terrified even, that he would have turned away and closed himself off from her. As to why was a question she couldn’t have spoken the answer, for she had no solid reasoning for her uncertainty. If there was one thing Theo had proven was his loyalty to those he held close to his heart. He had always been there for her in the form of letters of ‘good mornings’ and ‘be dressed in a few hours- I’m taking you out’, as well as the golden bracelet now shining brightly on her wrist under the natural lighting of the bath. Even when he, himself, was miles away, Theo was always close to her. With her mind settled and pulse lulled in a gentle beating, Juliet smiled at the warmth her van Gogh emitted as he supported not only her body, but mind, heart, passions, and future.

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