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altarfates · 5 hours ago

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Time often becomes ineluctable as it moves forward, not allowing a sequestered sanctuary to be formed amongst the continuous passage of seconds and minutes. Here, despite its penchant for such cruelty, the perpetual movement halts, accommodating a heart-beat and then another to the unguarded sincerity of Shen Qingqiu’s confession. Despite his seemingly impervious decorum his ability to navigate his own feelings seamlessly was severely lacking. It was just that he had gotten rather good at compartmentalizing things, partitioning the good from the bad and dealing with them accordingly. No one was meant to suspect that a dignified lord of Qing Jing peak could be so maladroit when it came to matters of the heart. That was precisely what Shen Qingqiu had intended, meticulously crafting his sense of impenetrable rectitude until it felt organic and not a constraint he, himself, had personally set. Is it selfish to say that he does want to be dismantled by the other’s capable hands, that relinquishing his unsteady hold on everything might actually serve to be rather cathartic ? The longer Shen Qingqiu looked at him, his gaze drifting over his wounds as he methodically treated one and then another, the more he found his insides twisting in an aberrant hunger.

He had spoken the truth, with a candour that verged upon humiliation he had confessed his own complicated feelings, imbuing the air between them with a galvanic charge, the sort that trembled beneath his skin in anticipation. “ I mean it.” his reply is instantaneous, his own visage is flushed, a soft roseate rising to settle in his cheeks, his elegant brows courted in a furrow of discomfiture. Shen Qingqiu has avoided being direct or honest when it came to many things, it was not out of a desire to be duplicitous but because the secrets he furtively held surpassed what any could fully comprehend. Not unlike Liu Qingge most had once known Shen Qingqiu to be an abhorrent man, compelled to unspeakable acts of treachery to further his own agenda. Was it not incongruous then for him to act so benevolently when given an auspicious opportunity to dispatch one of the men he despised the most. The truth was Shen Yuan had never loathed Liu Qingge, not at all, if anything he had gazed upon him with a reticent admiration, for who could not be struck by his beauty and his rage. It is hard to elucidate the reasons why, the stability of his mental condition could very easily come into question if he began declaring that he was an emphatic hater of this world and also, quite possibly, the one who had come to love it the most. “ I think…” he trails off in rumination, despite his inner turmoil his expression is clear, his heart willingly held open so Liu Qingge may gaze upon it in astonishment. “ It began that day in seclusion, seeing you in such a state, I was compelled to do something ── that is not the way one feels about someone they do not care for.” that was said in earnest, because Shen Qingqiu could not have stood idle as the other choked upon mouthfuls of acrid blood, his mind descending into the cavernous abyss of madness. If Shen Qingqiu had hated him, coveted nothing more than his expeditious demise by his hand, he would not have felt so driven to intercept the shadowy lattice of death as it encircled him. “ at that time I did not fully understand what that meant, however, wanting to be by your side was never out of envy ..” despite his expertise at crafting words to fit his needs he finds once he begins uttering them aloud they continue to tumble from his lips without consideration for his own gravitas. “ I just ── wanted it.” something about the way he says that conveys much more than those words alone, the hint of frustration, the echo of a long repressed longing, the revelation that he had been attracted to Liu Qingge for that long but been too oblivious to even consider that is what they were a possibility. As he had poured his Qi into the other his intentions had been pure, desperate to placate the ferocity that seethed within him, because he wanted to live, more than anything Shen Qingqiu had wanted to live. That does not account for the other times, the long, despondent days where Shen Qingqiu had been in mourning for the loss of his disciple and Liu Qingge had visited him. Sometimes, he would berate him for his stagnation and he would cherish those diatribes because they severed the fetters silence had formed around his wrists and ankles. Other times it was not necessary that they spoke at all, sitting in solemn silence, his presence dependable, steady, existing outside of the husk of anguish Shen Qingqiu had become in Luo Binghe’s absence. There were so many times that his emotions were profoundly moved by Liu Qingge but at the time he had surmised it was merely gratitude for the other continued to appear whenever summoned and save his skin when danger lurked too close for comfort.

“ It is shameful that it took me so long to realize.” he does not fear the violence inherent to Liu Qingge, not as those lithe, calloused fingers cradle his cheek, his thumb tracing an absent pattern against his skin. His longing is so fervent it crackles within him, a fire that hungrily devours the kindling it is being generously fed. His main concern now is that he will be inevitably consumed by it, his skin ruptured and his molten insides revealed to be unsightly. How desperately he yearns to avert his gaze, to relocate to the sights outside of this segregated room so he might find refuge amongst delicate branches or the pristine canvass of sky but there are other things he craves far more than that. “ I will not regret this.” he replies, his voice is softer now, slipping into something resembling a whisper. he cannot rely on it to be convincing, still, he wants to recoil at the rasp of it, the pitiful, desperate way he has chosen to reveal his desire. Like he might wither up into a desiccated heap of silken robes should his touch recede. “ not if it is you liu-shidi.” his cadence trembles slightly as those hands descend from his cheek, fingertips lightly grazing the hollows of his cheekbones before resting atop his shoulders, contorting the softness of his robes around them before guiding him down, down, down. It was so gentle that his stomach did eager somersaults, it was entirely inconceivable that these two men could be capable of such tenderness and yet, even as incessant hunger clawed its way through Liu Qingge he remained stubborn, restraining it as one might a prowling beast. Shen Qingqiu does not hesitate before it, petitioning for that same hunger to carve him open, coalescing with the same grotesque starvation that lingered below his chest. He needs Liu Qingge to understand that he is not the only one transformed by it, that them tumbling through the grass, their mouths locked and their bodies aching, had kindled a ferocious fire within him that showed no sign of abating. Still, his lashes flutter as if startled by the way he tenderly touches him, caressing his cheek with the back of his scarred knuckles before claiming his wrist and bringing it to his lips. The kiss was unbearably gentle, as if it were not a kiss at all but his breath unfurling against the invitation of his delicate skin, the tenuous bones at his wrist deserving of all he might choose to bestow upon them. His lips tremble, his gaze captivated by the way Liu Qingge’s mouth fits against his skin, how the warmth imbued in that chaste gesture has burgeoned to fill every aperture of his body.

“ Liu-Shidi isn’t wrong.” he almost stutters, the ignominy of that fact should have made him flush so feverishly he looked like he was suffering an incurable malady but rather than that, his lashes lower and he urges himself to hold his gaze. “ This master did want something from you.” However, it wasn’t so much the asset of his skills or the barrier his body became between Shen Qingqiu and danger, it was this, the very thing they had both denied themselves for the sake of propriety or because they were both so far in denial they could not help but be blind to their own ravenous yearning. Shen Qingqiu had craved his presence, his emanating heat, the way his mordant tongue and penchant for violence did not deter him but only exacerbated what had proliferated when left unchecked. His lingering gazes had not been filled with the machinations of someone who was ambitiously deliberating on how to end him but someone who longed for him in his absence, who coveted the quiet, stolen moments when it was just the two of them alone. It had somehow taken him so long to realize, the same amount of time it had taken Liu Qingge to realize actually, that this was something far greater than a platonic friendship or rivalry. Eagerly, much to his chagrin, his thighs part to accommodate his knee, the other’s long, dark hair brushing against him as those fingers sought to caress his cheek, the moment shuddered with tension before Liu Qingge once again brought their lips together. The initially tentativeness of their mouths dissolves as he parts his own to allow the other to taste the inside of his mouth, dragging across the contours of his teeth, caressing his eagerness against Shen Qingqiu’s tongue. He groans, a pathetic sound that is swallowed by the kiss, involuntarily grinding against his knee and refusing to acknowledge it lest he be consumed by mortification. Shen Qingqiu allows himself the pleasure of it, a sultry heat that begins at their mouths and pools between his thighs, his own appetite proving its competitive avarice as Liu Qingge reluctantly gives in to his own hunger. He wants to remember the way he feels beneath his touch, to witness every scar, each blemish that verges on perfection and rapaciously press his lips to them, sink his teeth into them. He had not realized the morbid thing his own repressed feelings might become when he decided to reveal them, that relenting into them rather than urgently concealing them could come with the consequence of being witnessed in such a salacious state. This was how he had to communicate with him, because his words were significant but never enough, his wanton body was far more honest than his tongue could ever hope to be.

When they finally separate, his breath coming out harsh and ragged, Liu Qingge would withdraw to find his cheeks prettily flushed, his pupils blown wide and cavernous, his kiss-bitten mouth an unspoken invitation to continue his pursuit. How badly he wanted to conceal his visage, to cover his indecent expression with his hands but resisting because the other part of him stubbornly refuses that reprieve because he wants the other to witness the effect he’s having upon him. However, the sound he makes when those valorous fingers dip between his robes relays much more than his expression does, a breathless, obscene sound, the initial sensation of Liu Qingge’s touch against his skin brings about an exquisite sort of ruin. It’s a shudder that begins at the base of his spine and surges upwards, making his heart race. There was a vulnerability within permitting himself to be touched so shamelessly, a tacit confession that he had wanted this for such a long time, denied it for even longer perhaps, so the gratification of his heat seeping into Shen Qingqiu was immediate. Urging him to arch his hips seeking some sort of alleviating friction as he deliberately tortured his nipples until they stiffened, after that each transient touch threatened to drive him to madness. When Liu Qingge disperses the silence with his comment it takes his reeling mind a moment to salvage clarity, he nods, once in understanding and then flinches at his own eventual admission. “ I am also..” he doesn’t want to say it aloud, how could Liu Qingge admit such a thing with that unflinching air of austerity, it was totally inequitable, please leave some dignity for the rest of us. He averts his gaze, finding a haven amongst the dark cascade of the other’s hair where he anchors himself, forcing the words from between his teeth despite how they are reluctant to comply. “ A virgin..” it would be his first time too, he wasn’t entirely inexperienced, after all, he was a man with needs but that did not mean he would impatiently hand over such a distinguished title as ── the person who took the lofty lord of Qing Jing Peak’s virginity. Somehow he did not die from merely admitting that aloud, neither did the other laugh at his confession, it wasn’t a bad thing, there was no regret to be found amongst Shen Qingqiu’s intricate feelings, only this ineffable fulfillment that came from knowing they would both become each others first and only lover. In response to the rest of what has been said, to tell him if it hurts or he cannot endure any longer, he nods again, helplessly, as he’s currently so inundated by feelings, embarrassment and an unspeakable amount of arousal considering they’d only touched, kissed, that words have forsaken him entirely.

Somewhere between their clumsy confessions the sash holding his robes secure has been pulled free, unceremoniously tossed over Liu Qingge’s shoulder as if it were a mere cumbersome inconvenience. Slowly, as if to excruciatingly reveal inch after inch of unblemished, milk skin, the fabric falls away, pooling at his sides in undulating ripples of silk. Shen Qingqiu feels so fucking bare right now it’s unendurable, the other attention shifting to his countenance, appraising his regal lineaments for answers Shen Qingqiu isn’t sure he has. Infact, as those eyes befall him, his teeth have sunk into the pliant skin of his bottom lip, his lithe frame racked with pleasant shivers. In truth, he hadn’t allowed anyone else to touch him this brazenly, to witness his reaction undisguised by that veneer of decorum. When Liu Qingge inclines to lick a hot, wet line from above his navel to the dip of his clavicle the whimper he makes is unabashed, a harrowing sound he wants nothing more than to reverse but also, at the same time, doesn’t. When his teeth inevitably sink into his soft, enticing skin and blood is drawn he doesn’t swat his petulant mouth away, nor does he protest, the blooming echo of pain jolts straight from his throat and down to his cock urging his hips to cant again, grinding in futility against his thigh. It stings when his tongue runs over it, apologetic for a transgression Shen Qingqiu only seeks to embolden with his responses. “ Qingge…” the moan of his name is held furtively by this secluded space, the other’s mouth moving arbitrarily across his skin wanting only to entice more of those delicious sounds from the man beneath him and Shen Qingqiu is less reluctant to offer them now. How he aches, it is such a visceral sensation that he can be writhe under him, restrained in a way that prevents actual movement, his fingers buried uselessly into his palms, his toes curling in pleasure. He is only permitted a brief respite when he pulls back, staring into his visage without a hint of shame. He likes him like this, with that dark hunger glittering in his gaze, the thought isn’t given time to properly sink in before his gracile fingers are curled around the girth of his cock. He stiffens. Shen Qingqiu had not realized how sensitive he was until an onslaught of sensation beset him, his lips parting in a soft, titaliting breath that holds the impression of the other’s name rather than the sound. When he asks such a candid question, with all the sincerity of someone who doesn’t possess any ambivalence it takes Shen Qingqiu’s inert mind a few moments to actually comprehend what he was asking. “ You…” he insists but his voice is a weak rasp, running his tongue across his lips to wet them, his eyes cast half-mast beneath long, delicate lashes. It was such an embarrassing thing to say that Shen Qingqiu would have generally violently recoiled from it but right now ── as he is at Liu Qingge’s mercy, he cannot find it within himself to care for such frivolous things. “ I want you to..” he trails off, embarrassment pilfering the words from his tongue, pleading with him with a rather pathetic look. Then he offers lotion and Shen Qingqiu, beneath the oppressive layers of his own mounting desire, cannot help but be impressed by his preparation. There was relief to be derived from that but it was accompanied by a pang of desire, his mind offering up visions of those long, deft fingers curling deep into his body and pressing firm and insistent against the nerves that would have him crying out in pleasure.

“ The lotion..” Shen Qingqiu is encouraging him, unable to see through the haze of his mind and into what currently troubles him when he has been languidly stroking his cock until his eyes pricked at the corners. “ ── I’ll show you how to.” it was almost humiliating to offer it up, to promise to show those piercing, earnest eyes how it looked when his own fingertips pressed flush to his hole and sunk past that ring of restrictive muscle. It was better than the alternative and Shen Qingqiu knows Liu Qingge to be assiduous in all things he does ── he does not for a moment believe that pleasuring him will be any different, especially considering the way he has thus far attentively licked, touched and marked all of the skin exposed to him. “ Please..” he cast his gaze towards the drawer where he surmises it might be held but his body is still coiled tightly with want and his own hand listlessly trails down his body to tentatively touch where Liu Qingge’s hand is covering his cock, about to take its place in quietly pleasuring himself while his shidi finds what they will need if he is truly to bend over for him and take the length of his cock. He shudders when thinking of how it might fit between his hands, how his hole will be spread to accommodate the length and girth of it. “ let his master teach you..”

right there, in that moment, time slowed to a halt. the scenery around him froze && became like a still-life painting, perfectly preserved. those words – this moment – of it would remain engraved in the eaves of his mind forever. Liu Qingge's whole body stiffens, afraid that what he's heard was just a trick of the imagination. that Shen Qingqiu of all people would never be able to place a crown upon his heart made of those three words. the same words that catch themselves in the summer breeze && brush against Liu Qingge's exposed flesh, encircling him in a tight embrace made warm by Shen Qingqiu's longing. as sunlight pours in through the open windows, it buries itself so deeply beneath Liu Qingge's flesh it could've set him ablaze… if the redness of his cheeks didn't accomplish that first. what chagrin he must be beheld with! once more his emotions have laid themselves bare upon his beautiful visage, leaving nothing to imagination whatsoever. no means to play a guessing game. whatever thoughts have charged through his conscious are now dancing clear as day across his cheeks and down his lips. he's embarrassed, but nothing could've prepared him for making the discovery that his feelings were, in fact, reciprocated. it made his pupils shrink in shock – his eyes fixated imminently on Shen Qingqiu, the other's visage so perfectly reflected on their surface like clear glass. “ do you mean that? ” do you really mean that? he almost dares not believe those words could be his and his alone. even as he sat there in disbelief, who else – if not him – could those words possibly be for? there was no one else in this room, even if you searched from corner to corner, you wouldn't find a single soul except for the two of them.

a cheerful breeze snuck in through the window, tousling their hair around like a child having the time of it's life. when he stared at Shen Qingqiu, it was like he was looking at him for the first time ever in his life, and he's wondering when things between them had changed as drastically as they did. from as early as he can recall, the two of them have ever been at odds with one another. it began the moment they first met, and carried on well into their adulthood. the Shen Qingqiu that Liu Qingge grew up with was a nauseatingly selfish and childish brat with a penchant for putting himself above all others. he was resentful of those around him who experienced great success, Liu Qingge in particular, which was why he often sought to get underneath his skin. his avarice knew no bounds, and he was willing to throw anyone and everyone under the bus so long as it got him what he wanted. that was the Shen Qingqiu Liu Qingge was familiar with – that was the Shen Qingqiu he assumed would always be a thorn in his side. “ when did things change between us? ” he blurted the question out before he could stop himself, but didn't try to backtrack or change the subject. the truth was… he really wanted to know. he wanted to know why Shen Qingqiu's view of him suddenly flipped to the complete opposite of what it was. he couldn't deny himself the curiosity; it was in human nature, after all. && as he studied him, red-faced and fumbling in vain to reign in his composure, he couldn't resist bringing his hands to rest comfortably against Shen Qingqiu's cheeks, cradling his face with a tenderness so unlike him.

if you asked Liu Qingge personally when this all changed for him… he'd answer with honesty: the cave. the Qi Deviation. the fact that – instead of leaving him to his own devices to die ( as one might expect of a scum villain ) Shen Qingqiu had instead stepped up to the plate to save him. naturally, of course, Liu Qingge's initial assessment of this event was that Shen Qingqiu was scheming. he wasn't the type of man to go out of his way for another person unless it benefitted him personally in some form. for a time these suspicious were inaccurately confirmed – as Shen Qingqiu began to call upon him when he needed saving, leaving Liu Qingge to believe he was only being kept around as fail-safe for his own life. that – if he should fall into any danger at all, he could call upon Liu Qingge to save him. yet – even though this appeared to be the case initially – Liu Qingge began to understand that there was something different about all of this. the weight it carried was not at all the same narcissistic && egotistical way that Shen Qingqiu would typically adopt. instead, he appeared genuinely afraid and would cling onto Liu Qingge like his life depended on it. no matter how angry Shen Qingqiu made him, Liu Qingge simply couldn't turn his back on him – whether out of duty or the favour for saving his life – Liu Qingge would always come to his rescue. somewhere during all of this, Liu Qingge eventually became aware that the seeds he allowed Shen Qingqiu to plant in the soil behind his ribcage were beginning to bud, nurtured by the other's presence. now they were in full bloom at the height of summer – they were choking Liu Qingge, robbing his lungs of their air and his body of it's nutrients. there really was no going back now – even if he wanted to, he couldn't flee from this.

“ tell me you won't regret this. ” he has to be sure – has to make certain that Shen Qingqiu won't scorn his name later on, should Liu Qingge be unable to restrain himself. he's bloodied knuckles and scarred flesh after all, there's no guarantee he wouldn't sear Shen Qingqiu's flesh, even if he was doing his best to hold back. he bites his own bottom lip: sinks his teeth so sharply into it it draws blood. mere seconds ago he was pushing and pulling at Shen Qingqiu like a child who couldn't make up it's mind, and he was still unsure whether any of this was a good idea. with how badly his body craved his companion, once the floodgates were thrown wide open… he stiffened just a little bit after a few unpleasant thoughts graced the surface of his consciousness. he couldn't wholly be blamed for viewing Shen Qingqiu through that rose coloured glass. in Liu Qingge's eyes, he had always manifested as an entity carved by the finest jade: immaculate, absolute, with a surface that shouldn't ever be scarred. he perceived him in such a ridiculous way, despite knowing how capable he was at holding his own, because he saw himself as nothing less than a feral beast with gnashing teeth and blood dripping from their tips. && who could come to love such a contemptuous creature? not Shen Qingqiu… right? not even on his worst day could he come close to scratching the same surface that Liu Qingge's wild animal lurked beneath.

hands that'd been cupping smooth cheeks began their descent, gracing a path that started from Shen Qingqiu's jawline and ended at his strong shoulders. hooking his hands over them, fingers tangled into silk fabric as he used agonizingly gentle movements to guide him onto his back. there, he bowed over Shen Qingqiu's body, a curtain of raven hair falling around them in waves. silence follows. for a while Liu Qingge just stares down at him like it's difficult for him to consume the concept that yes, the man beneath him is in fact, Shen Qingqiu and not some doppleganger that stole his body in the middle of the night ( hah! ). his mind is again consumed by the memories of moments ago when the two of them were tumbling around in the grass, limbs and lips interlocked carelessly, baring their hearts to one another. even now the gaping wound in his chest from where he split open his flesh and broke apart his ribs to show Shen Qingqiu his heart, was still steeped in fresh blood. he drags the scarred knuckles of one hand feather light against Shen Qingqiu's cheek, and savours that smooth silk. then he reaches down, capturing a wrist to bring to his lips, breathing an impossibly light kiss to the inside of it. he finishes by pressing the palm belonging to that same wrist against the center of his chest. he wants Shen Qingqiu to feel his heartbeat – he wants him to understand that it's erratic rhythm was meant only for him. “ i need you to know i've loved you since the day you stopped me from dying to a qi deviation. back then… it would've been more believable if you didn't even bother. i thought you did it to gain something from me… ” but how wrong he'd been. it was evident that now – more than ever – Liu Qingge wasn't just some vulnerable asset to Shen Qingqiu. his body, his mind, his soul, everything that encapsulated him has a special meaning to the man pinned beneath him, and it was taking all of Liu Qingge's willpower not to ravish him in gratitude. it would've ripped him to shreds if he found out he was just being used. his body could withstand a beating… but his heart? that was the most susceptible part of him. a single hairline fracture could rend it completely.

he wedges a knee between Shen Qingqiu's legs and adjusts his own posture, leaning a majority of his weight on his left hand in order to grant himself the freedom to use his right however he like. in this case, it was so he could stroke Shen Qingqiu's cheek again – this time with his fingertips – before he's taking a chance to press their lips together. tentative at first to test the waters, then enforcing it's certainity by using his tongue to express a desire to taste the inside of his mouth. he's already had a small sample of the divine: now, with Shen Qingqiu's affirmation that their feelings are mutual, he seeks to indulge to the fullest. it's his turn to covet what lays before him – after all, it's his for the taking isn't it? Shen Qingqiu has denied his request to remove himself from the premisis and insists instead on urging Liu Qingge to whet his appetite. he says what he means; of this much, Liu Qingge can be absolutely certain. they've yet to share a lie between the two of them, so who was he to drawn his soon-to-be-lover in a sea of doubt? wouldn't that be an insult && a disservice to everything Shen Qingqiu's revealed to him up until now? Liu Qingge groans as his tongue scrapes and sears the inside of Shen Qingqiu's mouth, savouring the familiar yet unfamiliar taste he's granted. all of it is sending heat to pool between his legs and make his clothes just a little bit more uncomfortable. not that he was wearing much to begin with in the first place – he'd already stripped off his top with the intention of mending his wounds.

he wondered – idly – just how much Shen Qingqiu has actually seen of his body. the scars etched into his muscular frame, varying in size, littered over every ounce of his flesh. the most egregious were smattered onto his chest and back, but he'd suffered a good chunk of them on his arms and legs too. most were trophies of past battles; of beasts slain and wicked men eradicated from the earth. but in recent days, a number of his scars and wounds were inflicted by none other than Luo Binghe himself. currently, however, those were outweighed by the injuries he sustained at the Battle of Luo River, but if the had the opportunity to, he'd challenge Luo Binghe again in a heartbeat. he did it not just for his own pride – but for the sake of Shen Qingqiu's dignity. he saw Luo Binghe as nothing more than a disgrace and a stain on his master's impeccable record. even if Shen Qingqiu chased after his coattails – even if he blamed himself for how the boy turned out – it wouldn't change Liu Qingge's mind. the only thing that might stand a chance is if the two were to actually sit down and talk to one another, but hell had a better chance of freezing over than that ever happening, so it was completely out of the question. Liu Qingge only knew how to talk with his fists, and Luo Binghe sucked at communicating how he really felt. it seemed they were destined for a future of misunderstandings with their running track record.

when air became a fact rather than a mere concept, Liu Qingge finally severed their connection while gasping for breath. he felt something wet streaking down his stomach and saw, to his surprise, one of his wounds had reopened. he frowned – he didn't want to take the time to tend to it, and decides it's best just to ignore it. if Shen Qingqiu says something to acknowledge it, then he'll do something about it, but until then… he wasn't interested. his focus was entirely on Shen Qingqiu – his hand had already dipped between the folds of the other's teal robes, palm pressed to chest. he took his time feeling around and came to the conclusion that he was quite satisfied with what was hiding beneath there. it appeared Shen-Shixion hadn't lost much – if any – muscle mass, and it earned his fervent approval. Liu Qingge mapped the rough definition of his chest, pausing here and there to toy with a nipple every time his fingertips scraped over those sensitive nubs. his movements are clumsy and lack any real coordination, but that's to be expected of someone who's never engaged the act before. which brought to light his next admission; “ i'm a virgin. if it hurts or i do something wrong, tell me. ” his expression is so stone-cold despite his flushed cheeks it's almost scary. he speaks in a matter-of-fact tone of voice and doesn't seem at all deterred by divulging this knowledge. it's as if he lacks the shame at all, but then again… what really is there to be shameful of? wasn't it a rule that one shouldn't seek for those kinds of self-serving purposes? if anything, Liu Qingge should be filled with pride that he's kept himself chast and pure up until this point… and he is. to have saved his body for the one person that would be his soulmate. even if the two of them parted ways or Shen Qingqiu wouldn't pledge himself to Liu Qingge, he's fine with that. he's already resigned himself to a life of voluntary-celibacy. if he can't be with the one he loves, then there's no reason to seek for anyone else.

somewhere in the middle of Liu Qingge's ardent touches, he's pulled apart the sash holding together Shen Qingqiu's robes and tossed it unceremoniously over his shoulder. without it, the fabric falls open and grants him a vision of smooth, milky skin that sends an involuntary shock right between his legs. to be honest… he doesn't know where to begin. his gaze falls in askance upon Shen Qingqiu's face: he knows he already has his approval, but what does Shen Qingqiu like the most? that's what he's wondering. && has Shen Qingqiu even had sex yet, or was Liu Qingge also his first? he's unaware if the rough and calloused nature of his hands have felt good at all, but he can't stop himself from touching him more, especially with abdomen exposed now. he leans down, licking a hot stripe from the top of his belly button all the way to the dip of where his neck starts. Liu Qingge figures this is a good place as any to start, and furthers his attention by tempting teeth to flesh. as expected, he underestimates his own strength and accidentally splits it open. a metallic taste greets his tongue, and Liu Qingge seeks to appease this error by lapping at the injury he inflicted. it was his way of silently saying i'm sorry. with this lesson learned, he deligates far more care into the details he etches into Shen Qingqiu's skin. his neck, his shoulders, his chest and his stomach – none of it is spared. anything he can reach, Liu Qingge clumsily tries to taste it. at some point his attention is pulled entirely to his nipples. each one is left red and swollen after Liu Qingge's through with them, and he moves further down still until he's reached the waistband of his pants.

here… he pauses.

his eyes fall like weights upon Shen Qingqiu's face. while he doesn't speak directly – not at first – his hand does the talking, dipping beneath soft fabric and feeling over the hot and hard organ beneath. he measures the girth and length of it in his palm, taking care to memorize it's structure in order to erase any room for error as he takes hold and gives it a few tentative strokes. the entire time he's doing this, his eyes haven't strayed from Shen Qingqiu's face. he wants to be absolutely certain his brutish strength isn't going to inflict more damage than pleasure onto his partner. but the further this whole thing advances, the closer to a problem he draws toward. after a minute of toying with his erection, he decides to finally articulate what's on his mind. “ … do you want me on top? or do you want to be on top? ” for his first time, he isn't opposed to the idea of taking rather than giving, even though he knows it's going damage his dignity just a little bit. however, learning through experience might help – but he leaves the ball in Shen Qingqiu's court. all he knows is that if -- the great Liu Qingge, bent over and fucked by Qing Jing Peak's own Shen Qingqiu. were to give get out, he'd kill everyone and then himself. and if he ever saw a single book out there describing him the same way the writer of Regret of Chunshan described Shen Qingqiu, he might just set every single mountain on fire in Cang Qiong Sect. he flusters a little bit and scowls off to the side, trying to ignore the thought of a book being written about the two of them. “ i uh… i have lotion. it helps, right? ” he didn't know jack shit about sex, but if he had to guess, one of them shoving their dick into the other's ass without some kind of lubrication is a recipe for the worst agony known to man. even that was common sense.

#3.1k words... oh my god..#﹙ ᶦⁿ ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳ ﹚ ✕ 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐐𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐐𝐈𝐔.#nsft.#long post.#deadn30n

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louferrignojrofficial · 4 months ago

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if i got the chance to interview oliver stark about 911, you bet your ass i wouldn’t waste a single question over something like ‘will tommy be jealous of buck and eddie’s friendship?’ after we have seen multiple times he isn’t, and most recently in the new episode. not to mention we’ve seen even eddie isn’t jealous of buck and tommy’s relationship, and we were shown that yet again in the premiere. there are so many more interesting things you could ask about buck’s actual relationship and that story, or even buck and eddie. but no.

#this isn’t aimed at that one interviewer but it’s just something i keep seeing #from people who clearly are holding out hope for buddie and will ask whatever they want to shoehorn it into buck’s relationship with someon #else #it’s just so boring and honestly predictable #you could ask ANYTHING???? and you choose…. that #i had to conduct a proper interview as preparation for my dissertation and i had to plan out questions properly that were fully relevant to #what i was investigating #there was so much consideration given to the questions #and once again for another research project where i had to #the questions were wittled down so much and tested and everything #obviously psychology and journalism are different but i just feel whatever we’re doing right now with interviews is just sad #911 #911 discourse #fandom wank #911 spoilers

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misspickman · 1 year ago

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cassierose for the ship ask game !!

Ship It

What made you ship it? i liked them in tt03, which you know, is truly a feat considering how terribly that comic treats both of them. but their dynamic (angry homoeroticism) managed to be compelling still

What are your favorite things about the ship? i enjoy girl antagonism from time to time. i know were all sick of the trope that teen girls all hate each others guts but considering cassie has a pretty good relationship with all the other girls on her team(s) its fun to see her just go ugh i hate this one. this one can go. theyre just fun and bitchy and i think they should hatefuck about it. but beside that theres also so much potential there ! i think you know, if anyone writing that comic actually cared about cassie or rose or about their character development, it would have been interesting to see their relationship change over time instead of getting one issue where cassie implicitly calls rose family while protecting her, and then the next one she immediately she calls her a manipulative psychopath for no good reason bc they cant figure out how to make the team interesting without having some wildly antagonistic relationship that doesnt make sense if u think about it for a few seconds. theyre never going to be besties but it would have been nice to see them go from blind hate to an uneasy truce; they dont like each other but they do, unfortunately, care about each other, and lets see where we go from that. + itd be interesting to dig into cassies hypocrisy when it comes to hating rose

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship? i guess its that i would like them to grow past mindlessly despising each other ? this is not me criticizing anyone but i feel like a lot of takes on cassierose ive seen are that they should stay in the hatefucking no mushy business❌❌❌phase which is definitely fair and true to how they are in tt03. but i do have some issues with the way they were written in tt03 (particularly cassie) and would like to see their dynamic progress from that (see rant above)

#i guess the reason im personally more interested in them sort of working through it is bc cassie doesnt have. a good reason for hating rose #i dont think its ooc but a lot of it Is supposed to be bc shes either jealous of her bc of tim (??)or thinks rose sucks bc she killed peopl #which is. she was drugged and manipulated and i think most teen titans in the superhero business should be able to handle #that sort of a not black and white situation #and idk. be more understanding. i know rose isnt super nice but maybe calling her a manipulative bitch constantly isnt the way to go #theres fun antagonism and theres cassie being just needlessly awful to her (that convo she and tim have about rose)#and i do think theyll always be bitchy to each other but i would like to imagine cassie is more considerate than this #and would eventually recognize she was occasionally just being shitty ! it would make for an interesting story ! alas #i think cassierose going from hating each others guts as teens to adult coworkers who dont really hate each other anymore #bc theyve been through so much shit together #but need to keep up the appearances of hating each other bc god forbid they admit to being kind of friends. that would be fun. to me<3 #ask #thank you. so sorry this got so long #youve given me an excuse to rant about cassierose so this is what u get<3 #sorry that the question was what i like about the ship and i just bitched about how it could be better #i guess the answer is im intrigued by the potential. also i love lesbians

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acid-ixx · 7 months ago

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Okay, how about we call Alfred dad??? Sense he raised us and practically is our dad. Sorry I keep on asking. I just am a thinker

series masterlist

a/n: don't be sorry for asking ! i like answering asks even if i do answer really slowly, so don't be afraid to send in questions ! this is a continuation to this ask.

it would actually be a given that if the reader wasn't too broken to the point that they genuinely could never consider anyone as a father figure, then alfred would be someone they would call their dad.

because at least in their 15 years they had been inside the manor, alfred would always be the one who would stand by their side. even if it's not always, he would be there for you when he could. and that effort alone is enough to consider him worthy as your father.

pre-yandere bruce wouldn't even know of your tight-knit relationship with alfred; calling him dad when you skip through the halls with him, calling him your "actual father" whenever you two would bake together, and even going as far as gifting him a mug with 'no. 1 dad!' painted sloppily into the ceramic. alfred would even teach you how to crochet, so you two would get matching sweaters for winter. although alfred wouldn't wear the sweater for the sake of formality, you would always be aware that he stores them somewhere safe and warm as some sort of treasure.

so, imagine just how heartbroken bruce would be once you are abducted by your family, calling out to your dad in your drugged state on your bed, bruce thinking that it was him that you're calling for help when all of a sudden, you make grabby-hands towards alfred, eyes hazily looking at the butler with such desperation that it feels like alfred is your actual father.

seeing you two act so close, bruce would be so, so conflicted. because at least, in the years of solitude you had spent, you find comfort in the very same man bruce considers as his father figure. but at the same time it should've been him that you call your father, it should've been bruce you look at for help and guidance, it should've been him that lulls you back to sleep, wiping the tears that run down your face.

it breaks his heart even further once he discovers all the little trinkets that you make for alfred, all the inside jokes you two share, the gifts you cherish in your cabinets from the apartment you used to live in; they were all from alfred— bruce wants to kick himself realizing that he never made an effort to gift you anything in your 15 years of living in the manor as a ghost.

bruce swears on his life that he'll make it up to you, that despite him being unable to stay the night frequently with you that he'll make it up during the day. he'll take you to business meetings, to arcades, to malls; literally anywhere to get you to bond with him as much as you did alfred.

he'll schedule holidays where the entire family is required to join and you'll be the center of attention. your birthdays will be extravagant, he would spend millions to make a show that you're his favorite child; that means he'll spoil you with gifts that pertain to your hobbies. and because your family loves you so much, please do expect a minimum of 10 gifts prepared by all your siblings and a credit card with no limit for bruce.

oh? you don't need material things? don't worry, you'll be surprised with just how meticulously your father would plan for vacations. any place you would choose would be taken into heavy consideration, even planning with him would feel like some sort of father-child bonding.

but really, he'll commit all his time and effort for you.

bruce would do everything to make you consider him as your dad.

#🍨... yael's talking #🧁... yael's misc.#series: again & again #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere bruce wayne #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #platonic yandere #not my best work but eh

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unladielike · 1 day ago

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Though him assuming she was a lesbian happened to be rather predictable, she'll still proceed to make a face, for he had made such a laughably incorrect assessment about her without seemingly any sense or thought, it made her want to immediately ask if he could stop breathing; instead, she'll take in a deep, heavy breath while thinking to herself, 'Oh, lord, please give me the strength and patience I need to endure this insufferable fool.'

Either way, it doesn't take long for her to initiate yet another buzzing noise one would hear from a game-show, indicating he wasn't nearly as right on the money as he thought he was. "Bzzzt! ...Aaaaand wrong again! Unfortunately, sir contestant, you won't be receiving the first place prize this time around." Sure enough, Vivian then proceeds to shake her head, but rather than clarify she was actually pansexual, she decided to save her breath; after all, Nnoitra was now suddenly the last person she wanted to come out to.

"In all seriousness, though, you are aware that's a very monosexist way of thinking, right? Like, have you ever asked yourself why you would immediately resort to concluding someone is homosexual or straight purely based on the last person they had sex with? Especially when the concept of bisexuality, pansexuality, and asexuality also happens to exist?" came her flat, deadpan queries. ...Then again, given how ignorant and callous he was, something told her Nnoitra was far too stupid to even fathom how someone asexual could even want to willingly have sex with someone. Why, knowing him, he probably had no idea some aces could be sex neutral or even sex favourable thanks to him probably thinking all of them were unrelateable prudes.

"Welp, think of it this way, bucko. If you went down a water slide, would you rather the slide be wet, making your descent into the pool much more comfortable, or dry, to the point where you'll have a somewhat rougher, slow slide with significantly less speed and momentum compared to the wet one and quite possibly injure yourself in the process?" Vivian finally questions.

"It's exactly the same thing with PIV sex; in fact, theoretically speaking, sex involving a cisgender man and a cisgender woman only works if the coochie itself is well lubricated. I mean, yeah, you don't necessarily have to eat her out, or god forbid, make her cum, before you slip Nnoitra Junior through it, but if you don't at least use lube, I can guarantee you would be in for a very bad time... and that is, of course, assuming you're lucky enough she doesn't start immediately screaming, 'Ow!', and pushing you off her once you do actually get it inside," she goes on to explain while ensuring she speaks in such a slow, patronizing manner, it was like she was speaking to someone who was 5 years old instead of 25.

Then again, Vivian doesn't quite expect someone as obtuse as Nnoitra to actually take her advice into much needed consideration; after all, he honestly struck her as someone who whose masculinity was so toxic, he probably believed the very act of pleasuring a woman itself was gay. Meanwhile, she never had sex with a man, yet despite this, even she still knew penetration would be painful without any foreplay.

If he mentioned his dick-size around women, there was one reaction that he got more often than others, and that was exactly the one he was getting now. He called it the "feminist" reaction. Women really thought that a guy's dick was made to pleasure women. Which was fucking hilarious. Who the fuck cared about that? He had never understood the guys who said they felt satisfied by pleasing their woman. WHY would that be satisfactory? To Nnoitra, it was borderline demeaning. If the woman he was with happened to have a good time - then yeah, that wasn't a negative thing. But he wasn't going to go out of his way to make her enjoy it. Of course, he wasn't going to go as far as to not have her consent - the fucking LAST thing he needed was an allegation of sexual assault. That would land his ass in jail faster than you could say "fuck". But, he didn't care if the woman didn't get any actual pleasure from the sex. And making her orgasm? That meant nothing to him. Not to mention how much actual work that took. Foreplay, for one, which Nnoitra was usually too impatient to enjoy. Oh, and then most women couldn't even orgasm from penetration only, so he'd have to touch them. Nah. How the hell was he supposed to focus on his OWN pleasure then? That, to Nnoitra, was the whole point of having sex. He was doing it to cum - that's it.

He was pretty surprised to learn she was a lesbian. Just because she had called herself a Christian. Most believers wouldn't be so open about admitting their sexuality, since it was their one-way ticket to hell. He had nothing against lesbians, but of course, he was less interested in a woman if he knew there was 0 chance he could fuck her.

❝ Oh, ya a lesbian? My bad. ❞ No wonder she had such a negative view on dicks then. Because off she went, on a rant on how a dick that couldn't make a woman orgasm was useless. Nnoitra just chuckled. What a stupid bitch. Mah - she was right about him being single. From the sounds of it, she didn't think he had much chance of dating a woman. She might be right about that. He should probably find himself a guy to date.

❝ Why would I give a shit if she gets off? I'm fuckin' her 'ta cum. It's the woman's job 'ta please the man, but I don't expect nothin' from her. She can just lay there 'n I can do the work. I don't need her help 'ta cum. ❞ Yeah, he very much disliked it when women tried to participate much in sex. With guys... It was very different. They were not supposed to be submissive like women.

#despairforme #suggestive tw #misogyny tw #║▌ ⧼ ⸢ ʚɞ ⸣︳m̲o̲d̲e̲r̲n̲ ̲/̲ ̲o̲l̲d̲e̲r̲. ⧽ ― WHY DOES ADULTING ONLY GET HARDER THE MORE YOU AGE?#⸾ ❖︎ ⸾ ( SOCIALIZING / o1: vivian and nnoitra ) ⤹ •• 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕤.#⸾ ❖︎ ⸾ ( QUEUED ) ⤹ •• 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕣𝕪.#[ yeah come to think of it YOU'RE HONESTLY THE ONLY CANON CHARA I CAN RECALL THAT CONSISTENTLY USES YOUR MODERN VERSE ]#[ meanwhile i'd be lucky enough to encounter blogs for non-ocs that are willing enough to write their chara in a modern au ]#[ but honestly god bless you for liking platonic relationships and slice-of-life stuff ]#[ because while vivian's relationship with nnoitra is def not platonic i DO favor the setting of our thread greatly ]#[ since if nothing else it gives me an excuse to sprinkle in references of christianity and real world occurrences ]

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maddilynmuse · 3 months ago

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Memory of Liar

Another fic for @mari-lair ‘s Siffrin? More like Sif’s Out AU based on this memory exclusive to it. This one got a lil long, as I think y’all can see. Also I enjoy writing Odile. Apologies for any formatting opposed, I wrote this on my computer but had to upload on my phone.

No major CW’s beyond just “Odile questioning Siffrin’s mental health.” Enjoy!

It hadn’t been too long since that one loop. That loop where they found out just how good Siffrin was at pretending to be fine. How convenient that not long after, Odile got a skill to deal with it. Memory of Liar. It allowed her to know when Siffrin was lying (albeit not by omission, but still). Ideally, it would be a niche skill at best, one to keep on for a loop or two and forget that she had-

“Hey Odile!”

Siffrin began his usual greetings. Seems Mirabelle reminded him about the clocktower “sleepover” this time. She must be feeling nostalgic; they’d all planned to meet up at the clocktower afterwards anyways, so there was no need to send Siffrin on a quest to go talk to them all, but given how low he got, how useless he felt, it made sense for her to give him a task. Would it be too cynical to say Mirabelle was establishing a baseline? Perhaps.

“So, what will you do after?” Siffrin asked her.

After. Gems, at this rate such a thing felt laughable, but she bit her tongue well enough. What had she planned to do after this? So much time had been spent on loops and the breaking of them that leaving Dormont was starting to feel like more of an impossibility than beating the King ever had been.

“I’ll probably go back to Ka Bue,” she said. It seemed like the next most logical step. She had a home there, after all. Besides, it might be nice to get far, far away from Dormont.

“And wrap up your research?”

“Research?” Oh, right. Her fake research.

“Your research into cultures-ology?”

Had he said that last time? When was the last time Mirabelle called for a sleepover? Gems, she didn’t like this.

“Cultures-ology isn’t a field of research, Siffrin.”

“But it is the field of research you spent your life trying to create…”

“No,” she said bluntly. He looked a little put off by that, so she changed the topic the most natural way she could. “What about you? What will you do after we beat the king?” If they ever get to leave Dormont, that is.

“Come up with my own field of research.”

… huh?

Something about what he said there, it sat oddly in her gut. It felt… wrong. But how could-

Right. Memory of Liar. He was lying. Of course he was, why wouldn’t he be? She knew from the start that was likely a joke, and a joke could count as a lie, she supposed. Maybe this ability wasn’t particularly discerning. She’d have to test that too, wouldn’t she? Would it activate at anything that wasn’t true? Or would it only activate if Siffrin was actively trying to deceive?

As Siffrin walked out again, only then did it occur to her… what did the rogue intend to do when he got out? Well, a question for the others, she supposed.

------

They were back at Dormont. It wasn’t of much use, asking the others. Bonnie and Mirabelle couldn’t remember off the top of their heads, but apparently Siffrin had told Isabeau they intended to start a comedy club… That sounded considerably more likely than them going into research, but she was still inclined to double check. It was nothing wasting a whole loop over, but they’d agreed that next time they looped back to Dormont, Mirabelle would tell Siffrin about the clocktower, and Isabeau and Odile would “switch places,” so to speak. She needed to be the one to hear him, so she had to come last.

As Siffrin got up sleepily, almost tauntingly laid back, he greeted Mirabelle saying the nap was a solid 9 out of ten… The thought that their rogue was rubbing in their lack of exhaustion was illogical, something she knew all too well, but maybe she wasn’t in a particularly giving mood as she squatted in the bushes against the protest of her knee. A few more pleasantries were shared and…

“Where will you go after?”

“Oh! You know… maybe a pilgrimage? I-I suppose this all kiiiiiinda already counted as a pilgrimage, but, um… does it?” Does it if she only half remembers some of it, so much time taken over by these last few days? Or was Odile projecting here?

It didn’t matter.

“What about you though Siffrin. What will you do after?” Mirabelle asked.

Odile watched him like a hawk as he had his little smile, looking up to the sky, and, “Go on a pilgrimage too, maybe.”

“Oh! That’d be lovely,” Mirabelle said.

If only it were true.

Odile waited for them to get to the store—the store she often started at but currently housed Isabeau—forcing herself up and stumbling like a drunk from the woods, knee seizing up all the way. Mirabelle rushed over, using a bit of healing craft on her.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, I’m fine…” Odile said, though sighed in relief at the healing craft easing the pain.

“… so?” Mirabelle said.

“He was lying. He has no intention to go on a pilgrimage.”

Mirabelle sighed but nodded. Neither of them were surprised, really?

“Can you even go on a pilgrimage if all you do is travel anyways? What’s even the difference?” Odile muttered to herself. “Ah, no use now. I have to catch up before Isabeau runs out of ways to stall.” Thankfully it was a short walk. The door was open, she simply had to linger near it.

“What will you do after?” Siffrin asked Isabeau.

Seems she was right on time.

“Eh, I’ll probably just go back to Jouvente. Not sure about rejoining the Defenders, not after they left Mira, but maybe I’ll try some clothing design?”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were interested in that. That sounds great, Isa!”

“Heh, thanks Sif. But what about you? What will you do when we beat the King?”

Assuming Isabeau did a good enough job of recapping what he said before, presumably Siffrin’s answer would be the same…

“Start a comedy club!”

… that one wasn’t true either? She’d honestly thought it might be, or at least that it was fifty fifty, but no. Almost a shame, it fit all too well. Then again, it meant more people were spared his puns…

She tuned out the rest in favor of trying to get a head start on making it to the East side of town. Siffrin tended to dawdle when left to his own devices, but still would be nice to find a way to listen in that wouldn’t be physically painful this time…

Oh right. There’s a building here, right near Bonnie. She’d basically gone blind to it, considering it no more than any other house: pointless. Though she did know the open phrase, well, the only thing of value was the “Long Thingy Thing” (as Bonnie put it), and they didn’t really need to go through the trouble of crafting a bomb at this point. That said, she did know the open phrase, so she could probably get inside, and she could hear Bonnie, but could she hear Siffrin? Then again, once Siffrin was near Bonnie, she could sneak closer.

And so she did. It went off almost disappointingly easily. Gems alive, what she wouldn’t give for something to go awry in a way that would let her dig her teeth into something again. But no, no. This was more efficient. (Everything was efficiency these days, that’s how Siffrin got so bad).

She crept closer as the two talked. Siffrin was needling Bonnie, and Bonnie was rising to the bait. Was it genuine irritation and stress, or just their mimicry of it? She wasn’t sure, maybe both. Not too long in, the question came up.

“Well what about you, Frin? What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll go to space.”

… she didn’t even need the Memory equipped to know that that was a bald-faced lie, but she supposed that confirmation was nice? Well this one was a waste of time. Best to try to slip out towards the favor tree and play her own part.

Four different answers, none of them true. Why would he hide what he intended to do after? Maybe earlier in their adventure together she would’ve assumed that it was for nefarious purposes, but if he was an assassin on the behalf of the King or anything like that, he’d probably have done something to stop them on at least one of the occasions that they killed him. Whatever happened with Euphraise usually seemed centered on him, but he always looked shocked, so it was unlikely he expected it any more than the rest of them had the first time.

So if not foul play, then why? Some charitable part of her mind wanted to say his plans were just embarrassing, but…

As they’d recently learned the hard way, their little rogue wasn’t nearly as fine as he seemed. All it took was one day of them taking the lead a bit too much for him to consider himself a useless idiot. He rarely spoke of home. Never spoke of loved ones, at least not for more than a few sentences. He’d taken losing his eye almost too well. She wouldn’t say that he was at risk of becoming a Sadness or doing something willingly stupid, but the more she thought on it, the more things painted a picture she didn’t like the look of, but couldn’t afford to look away from either.

If she didn’t know better, she could mistake him for a ghost. A spirit. Maybe even some Expression. Nothing but a being floating through to help. But she’d seen him eat, seen his blood splatter on the floor, heard his gasps and screams at hard hits. She’d seen him lose an eye. Ghosts didn’t do that. He was flesh and blood yet missing so much he seemed almost insubstantial. Was he aware of this one some level? And what could do that to a person? Gems alive, she knew he had bad memory, but maybe she should’ve been delving deeper into it. Why hadn’t she? It wasn’t like her to see something so strange, to see someone start stories over and over that never reach an end, to see him speak of things and lose his train of thought halfway through, and she just…

Never questioned this?

Gems alive, her head was pounding along with the beat of her heart, but she screwed her eyes shut and blocked the world out, determined to follow this rabbit hole down. Something was wrong here, and maybe if she could puzzle out what, if she could find the missing piece, she could somehow make him whole again and, expressions willing, maybe that’d be the key to fixing this whole mess. Maybe it’d set them free. She just had to figure out why-

“Hey, Odile, are you okay?”

She jolted, whipping her head around to see, “Gems, Siffrin. You startled me…”

“Sorry,” he said. “Thinking on your wish?”

“Hah, no, I already made that,” she said. A stupid wish to win a coin flip that came to nothing in the end. And unimportant. She had to figure out… figure out…

Had to figure out what Siffrin intended to do with his life, right? Yes, that’s what she’d been doing.

“I was just… trying to figure out what to do afterwards,” she said. Maybe it was manipulative, but if she pretended she needed suggestions, maybe he’d offer something more tangible?

“Hmm? You don’t already know? I figured you’d wrap up your research.”

No, that’s right. He already had that idea in mind, didn’t he? She let out a bitter chuckle. “I’ll let you in on a secret. There is no research, Siffrin. It was just a convenient lie to explain why I’m here.”

He looked at her with a hard to read expression. “But… huh???”

They were off balance. Good. Maybe it’d trick him into saying something real.

“Yes, yes, sorry to give the game away, but I guess I realized that if I don’t admit it now, I might never. And I wouldn’t want to actually beat the King and then have to figure out what next. Plus I figure if I have a plan for after, if I have a goal, I might be more driven to reach it. Whatever helps, yes? So, any ideas?”

He was looking at her like she’d grown a second head, clearly thrown off. “You could… actually start researching something? Or, um… aren’t you writing a book?”

“My journal? That’s just personal notes. It’d be nonsense to anyone else.”

“Oh.”

She waited but, no, they weren’t offering anything up, were they. She’d have to take the offensive.

“What about you, Siffrin? What do you plan to do after?”

“Oh, uh…” he looked around and shrugged. “I haven’t really given it much thought.”

… not a lie. Interesting…

“Oh? Why not? I mean, you’re not even from Vaugaurde, you must have joined for some reason, right?” She could list theories, but that’d likely give him an out. She was wise to his game. At least half his answers, maybe more, were just mimicking what the other person intended to do. Otherwise it’s just what they’d most likely want to hear, save for perhaps telling Bonnie they’d go to space. An interesting outlier, that one. It seemed innocuous, but maybe it was important?

No, focus now. Theorize later.

Siffrin squirmed a little and finally chuckled awkwardly, offering an awkward shrug. “I didn’t really have anything better to do…”

And gems alive, he was not lying.

“I… see.”

Maybe she should let him go, but she needed to know one more thing first…

“And after we all go our own ways, you’ll be alright, right?”

“I guess I’ll go back to how I was before.”

Not a lie, but not an answer either. “And were you happy before?”

“Of course!”

She needed to talk to the others about this.

——————

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

#siffrin? more like sif is out au #isat fanfic #isat spoilers #isat au #ISAT Odile #odile pov #memory of liar #in stars and time #isat #fanfic #mine #writing #isat siffrin #teehee

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2kiran · 3 months ago

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“FALLING INTO PIECES”

PAIRING: Spider-Man Noir x Reader Reader is a male. Bottom Noir. KINKTOBER CW: SMUT, physical descriptions of r (taller than o’hara), implied internal homophobia (noir), size kink, anal fingering

Noir was a simple man in an odd place.

According to his own perception of this alternative reality, at least.

Being a newly recruited member of the Spider Society was certainly not for a man who belongs to the twentieth century; mostly due to the existence of advanced technology no one from his time has invented quite yet. He was unaware—traditional, in his respective terms.

It wasn’t that he was judgmental of the future. He was just clueless to how everything currently functioned. Even now so when he learned that most accepted others so easily without so much of an intentional blink of a suspicious eye, he seemed to shift into a demeanor strangely experimental.

You were one of the only Spider-men he was ridiculously able to settle at ease with for an extended period of time, given that you didn’t ask too many questions and you didn’t feel the need to talk his hearing senses off.

And maybe, maybe it was also due to how... inhumanely large you were in stature.

The size difference between the two of you was stark. Hell, he thinks you stand a few inches taller than the Miguel O’hara. It was probably the reason why he appears to be drawn to you, dare he say attracted.

Right, he hasn’t thought about that part. Hasn’t come to the conclusion that he wasn’t a heterosexual man, as it was the only thing that wasn’t considered to be outrageous in his world.

But Heaven forbid, you were something otherworldly. Built like a beast that towers over him entirely, hands big and calloused while being simultaneously calculated and cautious when it came to tending to his wounds, and you didn’t treat him like he was a stray that’s originated from a nameless town.

He liked you in a way he didn’t know how to admit, and that made him fear the intruding feeling.

That realization only dawned on him as you backed him against a wall, his back hitting the bricks, his head now required to tilt up to meet your masked eyes through his goggles.

“What...” Noir begins, as if he wasn’t deliberately rubbing himself against you every chance he gets despite the danger lurking due to the presence of an anomaly you had the enough luck to capture and send back just moments ago. He swallows nervously, the separating barrier between arousal and regret blurring in the face of getting what he wants at last.

“You know what.” You scoff, leaning your forearm up against the brick wall in front of you in favor of bending slightly down to force yourself into his personal space like how he did with yours. You’re fairly certain his eyes are blown wide in excitement, but you needed to hear it from his mouth - that he wanted it.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll leave and forget about all of this.”

He liked that about you, how you’re so easily considerate unlike the way your personality outwardly appears to be. For a moment, he considers it, but his core suddenly aches for your touch.

His hand tentatively reaches up, curling around your nape to tug you closer to his masked face. “No, I... I want you.” His words drawl out as foreign sin and lust on his tongue, but neither of you care. “Don’t go. This is what I want. Please.”

“Yeah?” You follow-up, your hand manages to slip down the front of his pants and you waste no time with palming his growing bulge through his boxers, “Want me to take care of you?”

Noir shakily nods his head, a choked gasp escaping his lungs when you apply the right amount of pressure around his cockhead to have his mind begin to haze. “Yes.” He manages, his hands frantically clutching onto your forearms to stabilize himself.

He thinks about how you haven’t grown downright exhausted with him yet. You keep on giving and giving to him until he can’t decide what to do with himself; his thoughts prominently melting into slick that pools at his slit and cascades down the length of his dick.

You’re knuckle-deep inside of him once more, the glove you’re using mildly dulling the pleasure but makes him brainless nonetheless. Your digit is thick and long enough for you to roughly prod at his sweet spot, with Noir eagerly asking for another one.

He’s acting as if he’s got something to prove to you. That he can take your cock, that he can make it fit inside of his tight hole. Noir gasps as you push in a second finger.

“That’s it. You’re doing good.” You praise lowly into his ear. Your frame against his is the only thing keeping him from sliding off the closed dumpster he was currently sat on - which should’ve turned him off, but he was hyper-focused on getting himself to come undone beneath the work of your hands.

He is doing good, Noir repeats inside of his head. A whimper slips his lips as he rocks his hips to provoke you into sinking in deeper. He relished in the stretch, a burn that molds itself into a peak.

Noir was yours - made for you as he had no protest despite the phantom whispers of overstimulation making themselves known.

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moonstruckme · 2 months ago

Text

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

cw: modern au, some mature themes (in that it vaguely references past smut), allusion to past abusive dynamics/child abuse

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.7k words

Somehow, Sirius’ hand is cold even underneath the covers.

Remus wakes with it like a cool weight in the center of his chest, fingers curled slightly with sleep. The other boy’s arm is cast over you, stretched out like Sirius had been determined even in sleep to keep you both close.

You’re considerably warmer, sandwiched between the two boys in the large shirt you’d thrown on to slink into Sirius’ room in the early hours of the morning. You’re all crammed in tight on Sirius’ bed, chosen because it’s still intact whereas yours is now only a mattress on the floor (Remus hopes you don’t need to explain that to anyone in charge of your lodgings). Remus’ leg is only just balanced on the edge of Sirius’ mattress, and Sirius himself is lying with his backside pressed against the wall, cheek resting on the mattress as he’d evidently given up on trying to share the pillow at some point in the night. The sunlight coming in through the window plays prettily over both of your features, and Remus’ chest warms with something like—wait. There’s sunlight. Coming in through the window.

He nearly falls out of bed reaching for his phone.

You make a soft sighing sound, rolling forward into the space he’s left.

“Remusss,” Sirius mumbles. “Stop moving.”

“We need to get up,” says Remus, breathless. His voice croaks with sleep.

“Hm?”

“Up, up.” He pats both of you on the shoulders before devoting his efforts to Sirius, tugging the sleeping boy upright. Remus has chosen correctly, because you rouse on your own, sitting up on your elbows with a squinty, confused look Remus really wishes he had more time to admire. “We’re on in forty minutes. Did nobody set alarms?”

You sit all the way up now, eyes going wide. “We are?”

“Did you not set an alarm?” Sirius asks him. “I was counting on you two for that.”

You shoot out of bed without an answer to your question. “My phone’s in my room.” Now that you mention it, Remus thinks he can hear a faint chiming coming from the room next to Sirius’. These walls must really not be very thick. You look at Remus, very much awake now. “Forty minutes?”

“Forty minutes,” he confirms, trying to tamp down on his own panic in an effort to avoid exacerbating yours.

You nod. “I’m going to stretch. Meet outside in ten?”

“Alright.” Remus gives you a small smile. He doesn’t blame you for not thinking to return it as you rush out the door. He turns his attention back to Sirius, still looking half caught in a dream and like he might return to it at any moment. “Oi.” Remus gives him a hard look. “I have to go get dressed. Can I trust you not to fall back asleep?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius rubs his eyes. “I won’t miss the bloody Olympics.”

“Good,” says Remus. He starts backing towards the door, trying to look stern while silently praying there’s no one in the hall to see him in his underwear. It had been one thing in the dead of night, but now… “Ten minutes. Get some stretching in, especially that ankle.”

Sirius seems to come a bit more awake, lips stretching in a grin. “Yes, Coach.”

Remus ignores his flirty eyes, though his face feels distinctly pink as he steps out the door, making his way quickly to his own room. He’d gotten a tad bossy the night before, not harsh but certainly directive, because it had seemed at times that you and Sirius were too timid to take steps by yourselves and damn it—Remus had waited long enough for what was about to happen. So out of impatience and necessity, he took charge. Sirius’ particular enjoyment of that came as a not-unpleasant surprise.

Remus dresses quickly, grateful he doesn’t need to stretch as you and Sirius do. He fills the time instead by fetching tea and coffee from the dining hall. They don’t have any fancy coffee syrups for Sirius, but the spoiled twat will just have to make do. He finds you where you said you’d be exactly ten minutes later, already knocking anxiously on Sirius’ door.

“Here you are.” Remus passes you your drink of choice. “He’ll be nearly ready, just give him a moment.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sirius gripes from inside, sounding characteristically cheerful after a rushed wake-up.

“Oh. Thank you.” You take the drink from Remus, looking down at your other hand. He follows your gaze, and you’ve a drink carrier of your own. Three drinks identical to the ones Remus has brought.

A little laugh tumbles out of him. “Where did you find the time to get those?”

“Drinks are always my job.” You shrug, smiling a little. You look nervous, tension sewn into the muscles of your shoulders and preventing your happiness from reaching your eyes. Remus has the urge to drag you back into bed and soothe it out of you. “I went first thing. Had to rush my makeup, though.”

Since dragging you to bed doesn’t seem particularly timely, Remus settles for an ardent kiss to the top of your head. He takes the other drink carrier from you.

“You look lovely,” he says, meaning it. Your hair is smoothed away from your face, your makeup simple but dramatic, bold sweeps of eyeliner and color across your lids. Underneath your sweats he knows you’ll be wearing your costume, and the overall effect is bound to be mesmerizing enough that Remus hopes he can pay attention to your routine. “Extra drinks never hurt anyone.”

“Alright!” Sirius’ door whooshes open. He’s made up similarly, formidable slashes across his eyes and face set in determination. “Let’s go.”

He takes his coffee with a brief thanks. If the flavor isn’t to his liking, he doesn’t complain. This ritual, the stretched-taut tension of going to compete, should feel like coming home to Remus, but he can’t help but feel a bit odd.

If he’d taken the time to imagine what waking up next to you and Sirius would be like, it would probably have gone a bit slower. Soft rousings, lazy kisses, maybe a fond argument about who had to get up to get tea before you all decided to stay in bed just a little while longer. Not, perhaps, quite so much of this rushing, with none of you talking to each other and Remus fighting to keep up as you and Sirius speed-walk towards the competition.

He’s just caught sight of the boards when Sirius stops short. You falter beside him. Both you and Remus trace his gaze back to where two people, a man and a woman, are advancing on him with a steely resoluteness Remus knows but can’t place.

“Sirius Black.” The woman seems to be leading the charge, a stormcloud of dark hair and hateful eyes. “Horrid, ungrateful child!”

Remus blinks. The movement feels slow and dumb. You snap out of your stillness, taking several steps forward—not just in front of Sirius, but towards the woman.

“Get out of here.” Your expression is as fierce as Remus has ever seen it. The woman’s stare catches on you for a moment, a frigid flicker of annoyance, then dismisses you. “What makes you think you can just—”

“Thousands of pounds on skating lessons,” she seethes, the cold hiss of her voice somehow louder than anyone else’s. “The best tutors, private training facilities, and after all that you neglect to invite your own family—”

“He doesn’t have to invite you to anything,” you snarl.

Family, thinks Remus. Yes—the dark hair, the cool, scornful eyes—this woman is Sirius is his cruelest form. His mother.

“Sirius doesn’t have to go anywhere with you,” you go on, fervent. “You lost that privilege, both of you, you—”

Sirius never talks about his family. Ever. What does it mean, that they’re here? The way you’re speaking to them—you know them, you’ve met before, but there’s certainly no kinship there.

“—need to leave. Leave him alone—”

“Quiet,” Sirius’ mother spits. Her voice is like the twigs of a barren tree rattling against each other in the wind, harsh and grinding.

Remus looks at Sirius. He doesn’t at first know why, realizing only after he does it that he’s waiting for the other boy to stand up for you. To move his body in front of yours, fiery and protective, the way he always does. But Sirius looks rooted to the spot, his expression frozen and eyes just slightly widened. A weight sinks into Remus’ gut as he remembers what you’d told him the night after he got in Sirius’ face for the first and only time.

It’s not my place to tell you about what his life has been, you’d said, hedging. You can shout at him all you want, but just stay away from physical stuff like that.

Remus looks at Sirius’ mother, all cold fury as she tries to get closer to her son. You, continually stepping into her path, eyes blazing like some goddess of guardianship and inner strength. And Sirius, as passive as Remus has ever seen him. Afraid.

“That’s enough.” Remus hardly recognizes his own voice when it comes out. It’s harder than any he’s used as your coach, harder even than the one he’s used on himself. Sirius turns to him in surprise, but you keep your eyes on the woman in front of you, unyielding. “No one,” he says, “no one, regardless of their relations, comes in here and harasses my athletes. You will leave, or you will be escorted out.”

If possible, the woman’s expression grows colder. “How dare you. My husband and I are—”

“You two,” Remus ignores her for a moment, softening his voice some to address you and Sirius. You turn now, eyes flickering to Sirius first as if to check he’s okay, “go get ready by the boards. I’ll meet you there in just a moment.”

There’s not much left for you to do to get ready, but Remus knows better than anyone the importance of having a clear head before competition. Neither of you need to be here for this.

Remus waits as you nod, going back to Sirius and looping your arm through his before continuing towards the boards, keeping yourself purposefully between Sirius and his mother all the while. Remus watches you go, and then he turns to face Mrs. Black.

Remus has never gotten to kick anyone out of a rink before. It’s a significant mood-booster. The way Walburga—he’d learned her name when she’d shrieked it at the staff no less than a dozen times, endeavoring madly to gain some favor from her surname, which Remus had never heard before Sirius but in Walburga’s mind apparently ought to have the lower classes bending over backwards—had screeched and threatened as she and her husband had been dragged out was almost enough to make Remus regret sending Sirius away so he couldn't witness it himself. But, of course, Sirius is always better off with you.

Evidence of this arises as soon as Remus finds you. You’ve both shed your sweats, your matching costumes and makeup making you look nearly a mirror image. Sirius’ head is cupped between your hands, your foreheads bent together as you whisper to him ardently.

“Fuck. Them.” You push your forehead into his.

“Yeah.” Sirius’ brow is furrowed, his eyes closed. “Fuck them.”

There can only be a minute or so before you’re supposed to go out and perform, but Remus hangs back. Letting you have this, he thinks, might prove more effective than anything he could say.

“They don’t deserve you,” you tell Sirius firmly, “they never did. You’re here because of your hard work, not because of anything they gave you.”

Sirius takes a breath. Pushes it back out. “I know.”

Remus’ heart gives a painful squeeze for the both of you. As though by some sixth sense, Sirius looks up, blue eyes landing on his.

“They’re gone,” Remus says. You let out a breath, expression easing, but Sirius only nods. Remus draws closer. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replies. He turns, catching sight of the staff member coming to tell you it’s your turn. “Let’s do this.”

Remus watches you two go out onto the ice, hoping he looks more confident than he feels. He doesn’t doubt your ability to perform well—he never could, after all he’s seen from you these past several weeks—but you’re angry and Sirius is something else, neither of you collected enough to summon the focus you need to pull this off. Remus forces himself to take a deep breath as you finish your loop around the rink and come to a stop in your starting position, telling himself he’ll be happy for you no matter what.

He should have had more faith in the both of you.

As soon as the music starts it’s like the confusion of the past few days is wiped away entirely. You’re the same as you were, as you’ve always been, gliding alongside each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. The only difference is that the energy between you that’s always been there has shifted ever so slightly. Still love, but fuller now. Actualized.

Your costumes, gauzy layers of deep indigo, billow behind you to create the impression that you’re actually painting on the white canvas of the ice, each step a brushstroke done with intention and artistry. You and Sirius sweep around each other, undulating and circling and drifting apart before coming back. Your blades hit the ice after each jump like a crash of cymbals, perfectly on beat.

Towards the end of the routine, Sirius takes your hand in his. You start to circle him, backwards, one skate off the ground. Remus tenses as Sirius lowers himself into a squat, looking at you down the length of your arm. There’s not so much as a flicker in either of your expressions as he lowers you all the way.

Remus draws in a sharp breath of cold air.

You adjust beautifully, your training taking over to guide you through a move you’ve never practiced, back arched and skirt fluttering in front of you. You go through a few rotations that way before Sirius lifts you up and propels you seamlessly into a spin. The death spiral finishes out flawlessly.

For just a second after your spin, you catch Remus’ gaze, eyes smiling as if to say, See?

He beams.

Remus is still beaming when he meets you in the kiss and cry, feeling soppy and ridiculous and overwhelmingly proud.

“That was brilliant,” he says, taking you by the shoulders when you make it to him first. You’re smiling too, radiant, eyes sparkling as sweetly as the day he met you. He squeezes you warmly. “Brilliant.”

He catches hold of Sirius next, cupping his neck with both hands. The other boy’s eyebrow twitches, a sheepish smile coming to his face.

Remus laughs, “Prick,” and kisses him in the center of his forehead.

You make an ill-contained squealing sound, throwing your arms around them both. “I knew you’d do it,” you say, putting your lips to Sirius’ cheek, overflowing with happiness. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Sirius gives a short laugh. He’s no doubt enjoying the onslaught of affection, but he rolls his eyes anyway. “Yeah, sure. Just ask next time.”

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mimipolo · 20 days ago

Note

hi darling, how are you?

genuinely thank you so much for writing about Nam-gyu, I love him and it's kind of disappointing to see that there are almost no fics or headcanons about him :(

I am honestly in love with your way of writing (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

I would love and be very grateful if you could write something about Nam-gyu dating a girl who is more shy and quiet

thank you so so nuch

have a great day/night 🤍

Nam-gyu x shy!reader

HIII I'm doing good tysm for asking‼️

You gave me the opportunity to listen to one of my softer playlists while writing this so kudos to u

He's tries his best to be gentle with you, almost too much. Sometimes he mistakes your meekness for also being weak. Yes weak willed but not necessarily a complete push over. You just prefer to keep to your thoughts to yourself. He genuinely admires you for it because he could never tolerate someone talking shit to his face.

Speaking of he's super quick to defend you, any word he believes could offend you( it offended him more) is immediately being damned to hell. He's holding you close to his side as he shouts at the supposed perpetrator.

We all know he's a super yapper when given the chance so he loves being in your company and talking to you, or well, talking at you. More often than not he's being spoken over or whatever he's saying isn't being received but it's so much more different with you. You're happy to sit and do whatever you're doing as he talks your ear off. Sometimes when he says something especially interesting you ask a question and he's already giddy and ready to explain in unnecessary amounts of detail.

Feels like he's the chosen one because you chose him out of all the loud bastards out there to be with. He wants to brag and show you off so badly but he has to physically restrain himself because he knows how much you'd hate having so many people you didn't know have so much information about you. Sometimes slips in a comment or two...or more to Thanos, nothing too crazy.

You understand him better than anyone else, when he's about to go from frustration to anger, then anger to violence. You're that voice of reason just behind him urging him to reconsider what he's about to say or do. At some point he realises he hears your soothing voice coaxing him to calm down when you're not there. Genuinely shudders at the thought because you have that much of an affect on him?? Terrifying.

Sometimes he likes to sit in silence with you, the windows open and it chills the already cool room as his head lays in your lap. You're humming quietly to yourself as you make a mess of his hair and he's content on staring up at you blissfully as you do so.

Takes into consideration you don't usually like PDA so keeps most of it at home. But any threat of someone even hinting at hitting on you he's softly grabbing your hand to pull you away, mean mugging the person the whole time. You hate confrontation at all costs, remembering how you jumped in shock at him just shouting at someone haunts him endlessly. Avoids doing so unless very much called for.

One thing you'll always acknowledge is how much he tries to remember all the little things about you, the effort he puts into making sure you're comfortable noticeable in every interaction. Even if it looks unnatural on him, he swears he's trying.

Guiltiest pleasure is purposefully making you flustered. Loves turning your head up to meet his eyes just for you to snap your head away as you shrink under his gaze. Thinks it's the cutest thing ever. Especially if you take hold of his wrists and tell him to stop it but don't actually push him away.

One thing he always makes sure of is keeping Thanos in check when he's around. It'd honestly be easier just to avoid him all together but the man is anywhere and everywhere. Has elbowed his stomach roughly when he was halfway calling you Senorita. Would do it again gladly. Got teased a lot after for being so protective you, Thanos clapped his back like some proud father as if he wasn't the main culprit.

He's your number one defender. If you have no fans he's legally dead. Supports every small hobby you do, and insists you make something big with it. Just wants to see you excited about something.

He's a snappy guy with a smart mouth so he has to tripple check himself every time he's slightly upset at you. It's not that he means to hurt you with his words he's just a little too creative. But due to your lax nature conflicts occur very rarely, a sense of peace only you could provide him with. Even if you did argue he'd be folding immediately after he's cooled down.

"Don't hate me kay? I didn't mean it."

"Speak to me pretty, ya know I said sorry."

Doesn't let up until you give out a short laugh, signalling his success.

#squid game #squid game x reader #nam gyu #nam-gyu x reader #player 124 #nam gyu x reader #player 124 x reader #shy reader #fluff

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kquil · 3 months ago

Text

PERFECT MATCH PART 2

PAIR. : poly!marauders x female slytherin reader

SUM. : despite being from Slytherin, as a fellow prankster, you give the marauders a helping hand

LENGTH : 1.2k

PART 1 | NAVI.

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

Peter had blown their cover, and now the boys were running from Slughorn, who had caught them red-handed, switching the necessary ingredients for the next potion class. They should have known that Peter wasn’t the best choice for a lookout, considering he was the first to get caught and promptly given detention with Filch. As they were running away, however, their camaraderie lingered when Peter called out to them, hoping they wouldn’t be caught.

The remaining three marauders make a valiant effort to run away as fast as possible. Remus stays a good few metres ahead of James and Sirius, his hidden athleticism sparking in only the most dire straits. Despite the potential threat of detention, the three grin widely through the chase; Sirius has the gall to laugh at the sheer amount of fun he’s experiencing. The freedom to break the rules and run freely from the consequences – only light penalisation in his eyes – was invigorating. None of them believe they would ever willingly stop their practical jokes, even Remus, no matter how much he denies it.

Racing through the halls with their youth pumping through their veins, Remus, James and Sirius make it so that Slughorn is considerably far behind them before slowing down. Between laboured breaths, they try to sort out their next move but quickly run out of time. Slughorn was quickly approaching according to their map and they resorted to hiding in a darkened hallway they don’t normally walk down. Consumed by the rush, they had managed to make it down to the dungeons just as you stepped out of the hallway they had barely hidden in.

They weren’t very good hiders but it was amusing so you kept your lips sealed despite your mischievous nature urging you to press them with questions. Your answer came swiftly in the form of Professor Slughorn, out of breath and keeling over with sweat drenching his brows.

So that’s what’s happening~

Immediately understanding the situation, you step out of the hallway to face your gasping head of house and restrain a devious giggle at the sight of the marauders’ widened eyes. They’ve seen you, see them hiding. They’re also familiar with your artfully scheming ways likened to their marauder group’s mischief; the fact that you’re a Slytherin, however, doesn’t bode well. Fuck…were you gonna out them?

You don’t need any prompting, already directing the professor before he’s managed to catch his breath, “Oh Professor~ by the way, if you’d really like to know…” Slughorn eyes you after finally catching his breath. Through the fog of his exhausted mind, he finds himself eagerly awaiting your direction, almost having forgotten why he was in his current state in the first place, “they went that way,” you point to the right, the opposite direction of the three tricksters. James, Remus and Sirius release a collective breath of relief but remain eager to see how the interaction may unfold further.

“Who did?” Slughorn asks, trying to navigate the smog of fatigue clogging up his brain.

“The marauders,”

“They did?” your potions professor brightens at the revelation. You guess he’s finally rediscovered his initial intentions. But woe is me~ can he trust you so easily?

“They did what?” you tilt your head innocently, casually continuing the conversation as if you hadn’t just thrown him for a loop with that curveball of a question.

“Went that way?” he points right, perplexed at your sudden change. It seems Professor Slughorn was still foggy in the head from his sapped stamina and the boys had to bite their lips from bursting out laughing – you’re a menace.

“Who did?” you ask, pulling the most innocuous expression the boys have ever seen a Slytherin muster. Have you grown more beautiful since their last interaction? They can’t help but keep staring at your sweet face and pretty, pouty lips…

“The marauders!” Slughorn insists but you continue your oblivious stance.

“What marauder?”

“But didn’t you just say?-- Oh never mind,” Slughorn gives up the chase and turns with a dull swish of his robes. For now, he’s satisfied that he, at least, managed to get Pettigrew. As soon as Slughorn was far enough away, you turn back to the crouching marauders and give them a wink, signalling that the coast was clear.

“My fair lady!” Sirius dramatically bows down and kisses your knuckles, “How may I ever repay your kind gesture?”

“Hmmm…” you seem to seriously contemplate his playful words for a moment, though Sirius doesn’t mind, he’s more than eager to pay you back for saving his hide. “Let’s see…” You press your hand flat against his chest and slowly move down. The sultry overtones of your gesture make Sirius’ heart pound as he, Remus and James stare wide-eyed and gaping at your soft hands fondling their close friend’s chest. Suddenly your hand becomes a blur as you pull back his robe and steal a licorice wand from his inner breast pocket. “This’ll do~” you chirp innocently and begin to nibble on your newly acquired snack. “I can always count on you to be generous, Siri,” your wink sends a dangerous heat crawling up Sirius’ neck and exploding across his pale cheeks. This has never happened to him with a girl before! He’s supposed to make you flustered!

Turning to Remus, you make a gesture with your hand as if to say ‘pay up’. However, when the tall brunette merely stares at you in wonder with a small, amused quirk on his lips, you raise a brow, “I know you’re loaded, Lupin. Gimme the goods,” and just like that, you also have Remus turning bright pink. How can you be so nonchalant and not realise the embarrassingly sexual innuendos underpinning your words?! Remus surrenders a peppermint toad.

James was the last one of the three you turn to as you pocket Remus’ liberal offer. “You don’t have to ask me, for anything,” James chuckles and easily provides you with a handful of Fizzing Whizzbees. With a victorious smile, like a cute little squirrel who’s happy with her hoard, you pocket James’ addition and lean forward to brush a kiss along his sharp jaw.

“I knew I could count on you, Potter,”

James was floored. Sirius had to lean against the wall and Remus was limp against the large window sill. All three stare with a mix of surging admiration and boyish wonder as you walk away with a skip in your step. You’re so happy, you even begin to hum a soft little tune to yourself.

“...wait… how come only James gets a kiss?” Remus asks, bringing Sirius back from his dazed state. James merely smirks in triumph – he’ll remember the softness of your pretty lips against his skin forever~

“Dearest!” Sirius calls, already jogging after you. “I think you’ve forgotten something!”

“Yeah,” Remus adds with a cheeky grin, leisurely making his way over with James at his side, drawling in his Welsh accent, “gives us a cusan,”

“What’s that?” you’ve stopped, curious as to what he may mean. From his tall height, Remus leans forward, bending at his hips and whispers in your ear.

“That’s a kiss, sweetheart,” he steals one anyway at the base of your ear, where your neck and jaw meet. The high sensitivity of the area makes you squeal in surprise, only to be kissed by Sirius too, who aims innocently for your cheek.

NAVI.

A/N : because of @urmomw4ntsme 's recent ask of wanting to see a Slytherin reader, it got me thinking about this request that i wrote last year for my 1k milestone. I couldn’t sleep until i finished writing this so it may not have the best grammar so please excuse me for that. this was also inspired by this interaction between Alice and the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland.

#james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #poly marauders x reader #marauders x reader #poly marauders #marauders era #slytherin reader #marauders era fanfiction

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buckets-and-trees · 8 months ago

Text

EVERY MINUTE OF IT

Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Bucky x Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 4k Summary: Claimed unequivocally by Alpha Bucky Barnes, leader of the growing HYDRA faction, that's not the end of it. But what exactly is in store for you? What will it mean to be his Omega?

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; reluctant attraction; power dynamics; mild manipulation; threats; dirty talk; explicit smut: spanking, vaginal fingering, biting, rough sex, choking, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, spitting, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected vaginal intercourse and insemination, dacryphilia, overstimulation, erotic picture taking

Author Notes: Part three to what I never planned on being a series - the Alpha Bucky April drabble was only 500 words, the next part hit 1.5k, but this... well, let's just say this Bucky absolutely had his way with both me and my muse. This one will be a make up to tick orgasm delay/denail for MARCH of @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ; and the dialogue, alpha, and pet prompts for the second week of Hot Bucky Summer (thought this was going to be a short little thing I was going to whip out before week two had finished, but alas hahaha).

A/N 2: We've seen only a bit of his rough side up to this pont, but in this part we will truly see mean Alpha Bucky. Don't say I didn't warn you - here and with the actual content warning list.

A/N 3: I tried not to write any plot with this porn, but a minimal amount forced its way in.

He had made good on his threat, using your body for pleasure and for show under the full moon until there was no one left to watch, but you were not sure he had been keeping close track, instead merely taking you over and over until they grey hours of dawn. You had been too exhausted to register anything much after that – being carried away, a car ride, being tucked into a bed.

You had woken up in the afternoon alone.

Alone for the first time in three days.

On hearing you make your way to the bathroom someone had brought in water and left an impressive spread of food that lasted you through the afternoon and evening. You grazed and slept.

Your body and mind had been pushed beyond all previous limits, and so the sleep and rest had been most of those first few days after the full moon and the conqueror’s bonding ritual.

But now, a week on, you are tired, restless, and impatient.

You were in a spacious penthouse, you had been offered many luxuries, well fed by a personal chef, attended to by an assistant, your only restrictions being denied access to a phone or internet and barred from leaving the premises.

Should you have chosen an unplugged retreat or vacation, it would be perfect.

After contemplating and debating internally all morning, at lunch you make your decision. You finish yet another delicious meal, wipe your mouth with the beautiful linen napkin, and then set it down next to the bone china and plated gold utensils. The staff begins to move around you, and your assistant approaches.

Before she can speak, you take a deep breath and say, “I need to see him.”

There’s no question of who you mean.

She nods. “I’ll make the request.”

Whether pet or prisoner, you've been left alone for more than seven days. As such, you do not believe your request will be seen as any sort of priority, so when you see the more formal dining table set for two for dinner later that night, your mouth drops open for a moment, and you stop in your tracks.

You turn to your assistant – even though she tries to afford you most of your privacy, she is ever on the edge of your presence. She looks as surprised as you. “I was given no response other than that they’d take the request under consideration.”

You nod, then pace, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, until you finally hear a rustle and then the commotion of activity that signals his arrival.

Your heart races, but it’s only a few more moments before the large and imposing alpha, Bucky Barnes, appears in front of you.

“Omega,” he says with a mere nod of his head, no pretense.

Your eyes narrow a fraction, wary of his seemingly easy demeanor. “Alpha.”

“Shall we?” he asks, and motions to the table.

You nod and take a seat as he does.

Within seconds, the meal is brought in by two attendants and the chef, and Bucky thanks and praises them very simply.

He occasionally looks at you throughout the meal, seeming to regard and appraise you, but does not speak.

Before long, you huff, and he looks up sharply, pinning you with his steel blue eyes, harsher than at any point since he’d arrived. “What?” he demands.

“What is all of this?” you start, gesturing your hand to indicate the penthouse. “And where have you been?”

He sets down his knife and fork and straightens a little more. “Is it not to suited to your liking? You can change anything you want. This is your place.”

“My place?” you ask.

“Yes, your place. It is not far from the place I’ve taken up residence.”

The revelation is not surprising, but somehow more irritating. “And what? You’ve had me and now you’re discarding me?”

“I should have thought you’d want your own place.”

Maybe you should want your own place, away from him. And yet…

“I should be wherever you are.”

“What?” he scoffs. “So you can be embroiled in my affairs and bring me down? ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’”

The accusation wounds you, though you know it’s only logical – and you know what you’re thinking and feeling isn’t logical. You have done so much thinking - the irrevocably logical and illogical pieces at war in your mind - that you have determined to put off thinking about it altogether. At least as much as you can for now.

“I’m not your friend,” you state, trying to keep your voice as even as possible, “but I’m not your enemy either.”

“What should I call you then?” he challenges.

You raise your chin a fraction. “I’m your Omega.”

He doesn’t speak or move immediately. Instead, his eyes somehow fix you even more intently. There’s a burning in your chest under his scrutiny, but you remain still.

Finally, he stands and moves toward you, the two of you never taking your eyes off the other.

“You are my Omega.”

He comes to stand behind your chair, and you remain unmoving. He takes your chin in his left hand and tilts your head to expose your neck to him. He leans down and noses along your jaw, inhaling your scent and putting your body on alert. You feel the curling tendrils of want stir in your core, already awakening for him. He tilts your head even more and draws his teeth along the side of your throat, causing a shiver you can’t suppress, and he chuckles darkly and licks at the fresher of the two bonding marks he gave you. His hot tongue, insistently pressing at the bite elicits a small noise from you, and your right hand shoots up to card into his hair. Your full omega side wants him, has started to slicken your pussy for him. You can feel it. You know your alpha can smell it.

He bites over the mark, but not roughly enough to break the skin, and you arch up for more, but he pushes himself back up, away from you and the crook of your neck.

“So needy,” he remarks, “I like this.”

The first few days you’d spent with him, he’d kept you full of his cock, tortured with pleasure, overwhelmed, exhausted by him and the recipient of a seemingly insatiable lust unleashed on you.

This feels like the predator is going to play with his prey, and you bite your lip. He pushes your head, tilted to the left, to the right to drop into his other hand, clearly testing your compliance. It’s gentle, but it’s dominant. Back to the left, then to the right, and then he dips to nip at your ear, and you gasp.

Bucky releases your head from between his large hands then pulls your chair away from the table.

“Up.”

You stand. He puts one hand on your hip and ushers you around the edge of the table and to the side, in the middle, and turns you to face the wide expanse of mahogany and its centerpiece of fresh flowers – white peonies, white roses, white hydrangeas.

“Put your hands on the table,” he instructs.

You press the palms of your hands onto the smooth, dark wood. Your omega side is ready – even eager – to comply, and with your own long game to execute, you know you must play out whatever game he desires now.

“Arch your back,” is his next direction.

Keeping your breathing even, you do, hips jutting away from the table, on display for him.

The back of his hand lands at the nape of your neck, and he drags his knuckles slowly down your spine. Your body rocks back, seeking more, as he reaches the small of your back, and he hums in self-satisfaction.

While his vibranium hand plants itself on your hip, he moves the other around to skim slowly over your stomach, then up your rib cage, and to your breast. He gropes the round flesh through your shirt and bra, but the fabric does nothing to quell how the pressure stokes the fire growing in you.

You feel the heat of him press up your back as his hand moves now up to your neck, turning your head to kiss him. You push back against him, and he ruts his bulge slightly into your ass. Your lips are hungry in the kiss, but he only provides his lips for you, receiving what your lips want to give and not pouring anything back in return.

He moves his hand back down to your chest, this time slipping beneath the neckline and going flesh to flesh to palm your breast. He kneads diligently, almost methodically, and you know all of this is designed to warm you up, tease you, get you burning for him. He’s still largely a stranger to you, but you also know you can’t resist him. He’s spent so much time already playing with your body. He knows where and how to touch you to make you respond to him after those first days and nights spent naked with him.

Bucky moves again, ending the kiss, drawing away from your back and removing the hand from your breast. You whine, but that hand goes to the small of your back again, the vibranium hand squeezing your hip as he forces you spine to resume the harsh curving posture for him once more.

“We’re only getting started, Omega. Be patient.”

You huff, and he laughs.

The fingers of both his hands slip into the top of your waistband. He slowly pulls your pants and underwear down over your hips, and down your legs to mid-thigh. It restricts your bottom extremities, and that plays into the mental game he’s clearly playing with you. His hands move up the back of your naked thighs, and then he palms your ass with both hands. He squeezes both cheeks, goes back to palming them again, then withdraws his right hand and slaps that cheek harshly. You jump and yelp, but he merely goes back to palming and squeezing, soothing the smacked flesh. Then another slap, and you hiss at the sting over the lingering smart of the first slap. His vibranium hand continues groping your round flesh, but instead of soothing the second smack, his flesh hand dips down to your dripping hole, where he inserts two fingers, then quickly adds a third.

“Alpha,” you moan, and your head falls back, eyes closed both to hold back a couple of tears and to bask in the barrage of sensations.

He doesn’t answer, but his fingers continue dipping in and out, slow and shallow.

He delivers another harsh slap, then immediately returns to the maddening fingering until you’re keening and trying to hump his hand.

Abruptly he grips your hips with both hands and turns you around to face him. The cool metal hand grips you by the neck, tilting your face up helplessly to him, and this kiss is messy, demanding, teeth nipping at your lips. You kiss him back as well as you can as he is in full control of your head and holds you where he wants you. Both your hands hold tightly to his forearm, and you squeeze the bulging muscles there.

His other hand goes to the cut of you again below, but there’s more fervor there this time. He plunders your mouth and plunders your pussy, and you’re losing your breath, but you have no wish for him to relent as you feel the powerful orgasm you crave building and barreling towards you. His fingers curl against the spongy spot on your inner wall. His thumb is demanding against your pulsing clit, and his tongue is licking dominantly into your mouth. You’re trembling and clutching at him, moaning, only when your breath hitches, inches away from bliss, he pulls back.

You cry out as he looms over you. His smirk is cruel, and his eyes spark with fire.

“Alpha!”

He licks his one of his fingers, just one.

“Alpha, please,” you groan.

“My well-mannered Omega,” he coos. “We’ll make a mess of you yet,” he says. You’re unsure whether it’s a threat or a promise, but you have no space or time to think as he moves you again, hoisting and pushing you by the grip on your chin around and away from the table until your back is flush against the wall.

Bucky pushes you down to your knees, pinches your mouth open, then spits on your tongue. "Swallow it."

You don’t think, just swallow as his eyes bore into yours as he towers over you.

He strokes his thumb over your cheek – nearly a caress – and you can’t help leaning ever so slightly into his touch. Then his thumb moves from your cheek to your lips, tracing them before pressing down to open your mouth again. He inserts two of the fingers that had been in your cunt, and you close your mouth and begin to suck without him having to say so. The look on his face shows his approval. As you suck, there’s something so soothing about it – the weight of his fingers pressing down on your tongue, the steady rhythm - that it that lulls you even further into a state of submission for him. Your eyes begin to droop.

He chuckles and withdraws his fingers, wiping them on your face. “Don’t want you lulled away so soon in our evening.”

He begins to unbuckle his belt, and you reach for the button and zipper, but he bats your hands away and slaps your cheek.

You look up sharply at him, reaching to soothe your cheek.

“Ask nicely for your Alpha’s cock, Omega.”

His first nights with you were about physical domination. This is the other side: yielding, submission.

You think best how to ask, before saying, “Please let me put my lips around your cock, Alpha.”

He unbuttons his trousers but keeps his eyes on yours. “Tell me how you want me to use your mouth, Omega,”

“I…” you bite your lip. You aren’t a stranger to sex, but speaking so directly about it isn’t something you’ve done with any of your partners in the past.

Bucky lowers the zipper. He pushes the band of his boxers down far enough to free his cock, and you whimper. He fists his arousal slowly. “You want it, then tell me what you want exactly. You’ve already let me use your body in so many ways, we both know you want more. What are you craving?”

You wait only another beat before answering, “Want you to fuck my throat.”

You are impressed at the evenness of your own tone in that moment, and his lips tick up as well.

Bucky widens his stance, then leans down to wrap his left arm around your head, holding it – almost cradling it – in the crook of his elbow. The he pushes his cock to your lips, you open for him, he pushes in, and starts truly fucking your mouth. The first few thrusts are slow, but insistent. He fills your mouth with more of him with each of those first thrusts. Then the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. He thrusts out and in again, again, again. His other hand strokes your cheek. Then he slaps it, and you groan around his cock.

“Mmmm, fuck you feel good,” he echoes your groan. “Gonna take all of your alpha’s cock down this pretty throat,” he says, and his hand moves down to your neck, feeling himself push in there.

Your eyes are tear up, and the tears quickly start to spill over as he continues to use your throat, never removing himself completely now that he’s overtaken your mouth. He slaps your cheek twice in quick succession and you sob around his cock as much as you can manage. It’s growing harder to breathe, and your chest heaves. You brace yourself against his thighs, and he straightens and pulls out of you.

Bucky moves quickly, taking you by the shoulders and tossing you into the middle of the floor – rough but not violent.

“Clothes off,” he barks, but it’s he didn’t need to employ an alpha command to get you to comply. You barely have enough time to discard your pants and underwear the rest of the way, and only manage to get your shirt over your head in the time it takes him to get naked.

He’s on you the next instant, covering your body with his. With his chest pressed down against yours, you feel how his breathing is just as heavy as your own, glad he’s not as unaffected as he’s tried to play off in this encounter.

You hitch your thighs up around his torso and squeeze your knees around him.

But he doesn’t give you what you’re most anxious for yet, instead pausing to study your face.

“Such a pretty mess,” he admires.

Heat pulses through your body, his praise undeniable to your omega side.

He dips his head to lap up some of your salty tears, tongue dragging slowly up your cheek. When he draws back again, he merely looks at you. His eyes seem to be searching for something, but you don’t know what. You try not to give him anything outside of this moment.

His pelvis is lodged between your hips, so you squirm beneath him, hoping your hot, dripping cunt will call him back to your pressing needs. He groans and drops his forehead to yours, another sign he’s not as cool and detached as he was at the outset.

“Please, please fuck me, Alpha,” you beg.

“Fill you up with my cock? With my seed?”

“Yes, Alpha!”

He draws his hips back and you reach down and help line up his cock with your hole. He spears in with no mercy, and you don’t need or want it. You groan together as he fills you completely.

Your mouths meet again, and it’s a combination of rough messy kisses, nips and bites, licking, mingled heavy breaths. It’s primal and there’s no organized thought from either of you as he continues to fuck you.

The pace at which he thrusts is relentless and just what you need, but also not enough.

You want more and you whimper and beg through your kissing for it.

Bucky continues fucking you and pulls away from your lips, but in no way is he done overwhelming you. Leaning heavily onto his vibranium arm planted next to your head, he moves his other arm and presses his inner wrist up and down your neck insistently. The sound that escapes your mouth is broken and needy as the flooding of his scent directly In and around you engulfs and overwhelms your senses. He sucks on your original bonding mark until you are a heaving, panting, crying mess, clawing at his back, unable to even put coherent words together to beg for him.

His shifts just enough that his pubic bone grinds down against your clit as he pounds into your pussy. You are practically vibrating with the impending orgasm, and as your alpha can undoubtedly sense that through the bond, he bites down on your mark, and you scream and fly into your release. Your walls clench hard around him, and he growls through two more powerful thrusts before he shouts, and you feel the heat of his seed start to fill you up. He pumps and pumps until he’s left every drop he can inside of you, then collapses on top of you.

He doesn’t move, pressing down into you with all his weight as you both recover from the ecstasy you’ve just experienced. You almost move to stroke your fingers up and down his spine, but you quell that omega impulse. You do allow yourself to keep your hands on his back though – still, but connected to this man, your alpha, who dealt you such rough but undeniable pleasure.

Finally, Bucky pushes up off you, but surprises you when he scoops you up and carries you away bridal style, heading toward your bedroom.

“Alpha?”

“You really want to live under the same roof?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer simply.

He glances down at your face, brows furrowed, then looks back ahead as he heads down the hallway.

“Okay then.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” he affirms, entering your room.

He tosses you onto the bed, and crawls up over you again. He reaches beneath your back to unclasp your bra, and you let him pull it from your shoulders and throw it off to the side. Closing the gap between your bodies, you relish the feeling of his bare chest against yours, his chest hair teasing your nipples. He grips your chin yet again, this time with his vibranium hand, and looks into your eyes with a steely, cold stare.

“If you’re anything other than the good omega I require, I will send you back here, but it won’t be like this last week has been. You will be in absolute exile. Don’t test me – there will be no chances.”

You give a single nod of your head.

He pushes up and leans back then, kneeling above you.

“But you don’t want to jeopardize or risk that, do you?”

“No, Bucky.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him anything other than alpha and he clocks that, you see the flash of acknowledgement in his eyes.

“You want to be with your alpha, you want the limited freedom you know I can give you if I choose to, but you also have your own agenda”

It wasn’t a question, and you know you can’t fool him – you know he is too smart for that, and you know he knows you are intelligent in your own right. He made it clear when he closed in on your people’s territory that’s why your compliance and claiming you as his omega was part of the deal of surrender to spare any more bloodshed.

“Cross me and your future will only be visitations when I require you to service my ruts.”

You don’t doubt his threat.

“Do we have an accord, Omega?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

The words you two exchanged the fateful night of that initial surrender.

He nods.

“It seems fitting to seal it by kiss.”

You sit up and then kneel before him on the bed, he bends his head down to kiss you. It’s fervent, solemn, but he cuts it off before it develops into anything more.

“Stay here,” he orders, sliding off the bed.

That was an alpha command – wholly unnecessary except to remind you of his power.

You scowl at his retreating form, then huff once he’s out of the room.

He’s quick, and when he comes back in the room, he is slowly stroking his cock with one hand, and holds his phone in the other. He steps up to the edge of the bed.

“A kiss here, as well,” he says, pushing his hips forward.

You crawl to him, lower your head, and kiss his cock. He nods at you, indicating he expects more. You take the tip of his semi-hard cock into your mouth, lave your tongue around the tip, and then suck, looking up at him. He takes a few photos, moaning at your ministrations.

“Fuck you couldn’t look more pretty and more ruined,” he whispers. He tosses the phone down, then pushes you off him and back onto the bed, manhandling your hips to get you planted in the center of the mattress with your thighs splayed open obscenely.

“Only fair for me to finish sealing the agreement and kiss these lips as well.”

He dives in like a man starved, despite the rounds you’ve just finished. He pulls your next orgasm quickly from your fluttering pussy. You would be surprised, only you’ve come to accept that he has already acquired a dangerous – and delicious – knowledge of your body.

He looks up at you and grins and then goes in immediately for another.

You try and push him away and close your legs, feeling overstimulated, but he growls and roughly forces your thighs open again.

“Your one chance of being my good omega is already begun. So, you’re going to let me eat the pussy that belongs to me until you’re a sobbing overstimulated mess and think you can’t possibly take any more, but you will. And since this should be the last night we ever spend in this bed, when I’ve had my fill of lapping at your sweet, dripping cunt, I’m going to see if I can’t fuck you hard and long enough to break the bed.”

You can only hope your gamble to deal with the devil of HYDRA will not be your undoing.

full Fine Line Collection

Everyone check your pulse, please. Mine is gone.

I'm not saying this is officially a series, but I think we HAVE fallen into a collection territory... Unless y'all are through with this Alpha Bucky...

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #alpha bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #female reader #aspen wrote something #fine line collection

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33vik · 1 month ago

Note

Viktor x reader, Viktor comforts you from burnout? Can be spicy or not 😳

a/n: my first request, thank you so much! i hope the rust isn't too evident. feedback would be very appreciated!

word count: 825

genre: fluff! i can make a part 2 for smut if requested <3

pairing: viktor x gn!reader

“You are overworking yourself,” Viktor states. He leaves no room for argument, even as you look up from your desk with furrowed eyebrows, clearly upset your work flow was interrupted. “You will crumble soon if you do not give yourself time to rest.” He approaches your workspace. He’s all too aware of the fate you’re hurling toward. Having gone down that path many times himself, it brings him a different, stronger pain watching it happen to you.

“I’m not,” you reply briskly, brushing him aside as you flip toward a different page in your notes. He raises an eyebrow curiously and takes another step toward you, but you continue to speak before he can say anything. “I’m fine, Vik."

He knows you’re lying: your eyebrows haven’t relaxed once, every waking moment (which has been a considerable amount of time) is spent hunched over your desk, ink stains are all over your two-day old clothing, and the dark circles under your eyes are much more prominent than he’s ever seen; all telling signs.

He also knows you aren’t ready to listen to him. “Very well,” he says, walking off to sit at his own desk. For once, he’s more focused on something other than his work. He leans back in his seat, holding his cane half-heartedly as he watches you.

It takes approximately five minutes before you drop your pen and bury your face in your hands, tears pricking at your eyes in pure frustration. He begins to stand, but is stopped when a trembling hand is held out, palm in his direction. “Don’t.” It’s a shaky whisper.

He nods, knowing better than to go against your wishes in this state. He stays seated and continues to watch, pain stringing at his heart. You quietly wish him a good night and rise, leaving him alone in the dark lab.

Days pass by, and Viktor can’t stand by idly any longer. You’ve been a hollow shell of yourself ever since; you’ve rarely left your bed, and the days you have brought yourself to the lab, you sat numbly at your desk, twirling your pen and ignoring any questions and conversations.

Today, you sit in your chair and stare blankly at the notes in front of you. Viktor rises from his place of work and walks to you, his gentle, nimble fingers delicately resting on your shoulder. You don’t even look up. He grips your shoulder the tiniest bit tighter, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.

That’s all it takes.

You turn in your seat to face him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you bury your face against his stomach. His cane is long forgotten as both hands immediately wrap around you, holding you tightly against him as your body racks with quiet sobs.

He stands there for several minutes, staying silent and rubbing soothing circles on your back. Thankfully, you begin to calm down in his arms. You pull away enough to look up at him. The faintest frown tugs at his lips when he sees your tear stained face, your bottom lip quivering.

“Come,” he instructs, a hand on your desk while he leans down to grab his cane. He straightens and offers his hand, which you slowly take. He walks you all the way to your room, his hand never leaving yours.

He grabs the key you had given him and guides you inside, leading you straight to your bed. You sniffle and lie down on the bed. Big, teary eyes look up at him. Slowly, he lies down next to you, messy, dark strands of hair splaying across the pillow.

“I don’t know what happened,” you whisper, looking at him with anxiety swimming in your eyes. That same, faint frown tugs at his lips.

“You lost yourself to your work,” he says plainly. His pale arm reaches for you, wrapping around your trembling frame. “It happens to the best of us, dear.”

You lean into his touch, keeping your eyes on his face, trailing over his pretty moles. “I just—” you start, but stop when your voice shakes noticeably.

“Shh,” Viktor hushes, pressing his lips to the top of your head. He gently rubs his nose against you. “We can talk about it later. For now, just let yourself relax.”

You nod weakly and dig your face into his chest. For the most part, it’s a comforting silence between you, occasionally broken by a sweet nothing whispered in your ear, his accent like a sweet melody. You melt in his arms, breathing slowing considerably as you let yourself drift off.

“Sleep well, my love.” Viktor whispers against your head, keeping a tight hold on you. It’s unheard in your sleep, but you unconsciously nuzzle further into him.

He continues to rub your back for quite some time, both of your work forgotten in this moment.

Viktor would stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, and these past few days—this moment—solidifies it.

#viktor #arcane #league of legends #viktor x reader #viktor fluff #arcane x reader #arcane fluff #i feel like i did not do this request the justice it deserves #i may have to revisit this at a later time

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bitchlessdino · 1 year ago

Note

hello! 🤍 can i request a bad boy type wonwoo having a soft spot for also a cold type reader?

like they always acting so cold towards other people and even both of them acting like they hate each other.

and people are like "oh there is no way they can date", but wonwoo is only kind to reader and viceversa even without them noticing

Oh, and they dont even realized their feelings until reader feels jealous when they saw wonwoo with someone else and thats when they realized about it, but are afraid to said something since reader doesnt know how wonwoo will react

Kinda angst maybe, but fluff at the end

take your time btw! 🤍 it is also totally okay if is not possible, hope you are having an excellent day 🌸

Pairing: wonwoox gn!reader Genre: slight angst, fluff, slice of life Word count: 6.3k tags: mentions alcohol, childhood au, biker!wonu, frienemy!wonwoo, possible love triangle, reader called a bitch, presence of violence and imminent danger, analogy using car wrecks, mc and wonwoo stilling living with their parents as adults because that's normal ok, kinda messy, intimates kisses Summary: Hard to maintain a good acquaintanceship if it started off on the wrong foot, but Wonwoo tries to do just that, no matter how much you resent him from childhood. Now reunited as adults, you're questioning whether your negative impression of him has stuck since being away or have you grown up just enough to realize how much between the two you have changed? author note: this was collecting dust but finally she is here. just in time for wonwoo to be in my bias list 🙂

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch

You will never willingly be associated with Jeon Wonwoo.

His mom had just happened to be someone your mom knew. Someone that she hadn’t talked to or seen in a long time. Long enough to have built their own families and have their kids without realizing it. It was as if they fell back into place. A long-time childhood friendship that quickly rekindled in a grocery store one day. From that day on, your families were inseparable. As long as they were still friends, you’d see each other every day.

“Why would I babysit some weirdo kid? I have better things to do.”

The problem was he wanted nothing to do with you.

When you met him the first time, you were a child barely getting around to a bike without training wheels, and Wonwoo was meeting the first stages of fungal acne. He was a bit older than you were then and his mom had given him the duty to look after you, the neighbor’s kid. The neighbor’s weirdo kid.

His mom bragged to yours about how good of an older brother he was to his younger brother, Seonwoo, but that seemed that seems to be his limit. Having freshly turned a teen, it all made sense. Wonwoo didn’t know you, and all of a sudden in his growing years he’s stuck taking care of a kid he knows by association. Understandably, he’d have that teen angst.

You didn't mean to overhear. You just happened to eavesdrop behind a pillar that day in their obnoxiously nice house when you came across him and his mother talking privately. Admittedly, you hadn’t made the best impression, but you were any kid in their single digits: annoying, talkative, maybe skeptical. But you were a kid. A kid that got their feelings easily hurt.

Despite saying such hurtful words, Wonwoo listened. He treated you with care–consideration almost–following his mother's orders, but you didn't make it easy for him. Every group breakfast, every dinner, every ride to school. You became relentless. You knew how he really felt about your situation after all. Your mind was made up at that point.

If he wanted nothing to do with you, you wanted nothing to do with him.

“Keep walking.”

Your eyes barely glaze over at the unfamiliar figure before waving off your hand as if dismissing a nuisance, which in this case was accurate. The unsolicited stranger scoffs, getting up from his unwelcome seat, hacking and spitting on the spot on the floor next to your chair. “I don’t fuck with bitches anyway.”

You roll your eyes as you shoo him away with the flick of your wrist again, then feel another unwanted presence join you in your once peaceful solitude. You tightly shut your eyes in frustration before taking a deep exhale, finding silence impossible under your circumstances. “I don’t want to hear it, Jeon.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” you hear Wonwoo arrogantly chuckle, shrugging off the thick leather off his shoulders and setting them on his lap as he takes a seat.

With your back turned to him, you imagine the pristinely lit smile on his face he gives when he’s amused, a rarity in these parts with the exception of you, someone he’s known long enough to recount every blemish that once appeared on your face. He watches you finish the rest of your drink, the bob of your throat shifting before you pull the glass away from your lips. Your resting bitch face is still intact after all these years.

“Good, keep it that way.”

Wonwoo could have chosen to keep the peace as he said he would, but it was just too easy with you. Even after you’ve left for college and come back, he acts as if nothing has changed. In his eyes, you were still that same angsty kid who always has something snarky to say when he’s around. And man, did he always have just as smart a rebuttal. “It’s just, that was the fifth guy you’ve scared off—course, the guy was a moron—but you like dying alone, Frosty?”

Frosty. The Snowman. Much unlike the jolly creature, however, you were given that name being somewhat of a cold character, particularly to Wonwoo and anything he witnesses face the wrath of your harsh but honest judgment.

You begin getting up from your seat, scowling at the abhorred nickname, the prediction of this dinner a mistake an accurate calculation. “Should’ve known you’d run your mouth. Tell mom I’m heading to the store across the street.”

Your mother was so proud to have you back home for a period before you’d find a new place again, and she insisted on holding a small intimate gathering at bar type restaurant. That meant sharing the space with other patrons, the Jeons, and unfortunately Wonwoo, who only grew more irritating than you last remember.

“I’ll tell her, but I’m coming with.”

The caretaker role he was bestowed upon so long ago seems to resonate with him still, insisting on trailing behind you with nonchalance. To which you answer with a brash:

“Fuck off.”

Your eyes go to the back of your skull the nth time tonight before you’re off on your stroll, noticing the annoying scrap of Wonwoo’s heel following behind you after he waves your mom and the rest of the party farewell. You ignore him, darting towards the antique shop that warms your stomach with nostalgia, hearing the wind chimes clang when you enter with a cool musk breeze to follow.

“That all you have to say to me? Even if you hate me, there has to be some…sentiment.”

You finger through the old hardcovers, eyes scanning over the aged wood of the shelves until they move on to the glossy wood of the cuckoo clocks on the walls. “Not even a little bit, Jeon.”

There’s the breathiness of his scoff that lingers in the musk air. He crosses your arms, the leather rubs loudly against itself. “Well, that’s sad to hear,” he responds, not sounding sad at all.

“Don’t you have an actual sibling to bother? Why are you being a nuisance to me?”

He simply shrugs. “Seonwoo isn’t back from his work-study just yet. Plus he’d be happy to know I kept you company.”

Unlike Wonwoo, Seonwoo was actually tolerable, pleasant even. If you were envious of Wonwoo for anything, it was having a nice little brother like Seonwoo. You weren’t exactly close but he was a nice kid, a lot nicer than Wonwoo anyway, and not at all that annoying kind of nice that chirps every two seconds.

You sigh. “Now that’s actually sad to hear.”

“I knew you’d say that. You always liked him better than me.”

Only because you never liked me in the first place.

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh my god, Wonwoo?”

A shrill voice beckons from the store entrance, an older version of a girl from your adolescence runs towards you both. “I thought I heard your gorgeous voice. Gorgeous face as well as always, how are you?”

Gina also grew up in the same neighborhood you both did and was typically nice, but around Wonwoo, she seemed to lose all train of thought since all her eyes could train on was him. She bats her eyelashes the same flirtatious way several years ago, and instinctively her body is drawn to him like mosquitos to blood, drinking in masculine appearance for all its worth.

If you were anything like her, you’d get it. Wonwoo is an attractive man by society's standards, but the truth of the matter is you can’t stand him. And you know deep down he can’t stand you. His fake politeness isn’t fooling anybody. Okay, that is a lie. His fake politeness doesn’t fool you, but his limitless charm made everyone else weak in the knees.

“Good, good.” He nods cordially, a smile drained from his face only leaving a straight stare, eyes only landing on Gina momentarily before they return to you.

Gina finds his gaze’s target before the light is slightly dimmed from her initially bright eyes. “And you too. Oh gosh, you must’ve got back too. Can you believe we’ve both graduated from college?”

You wonder if she does, considering you did graduate from the same university.

“Yeah, it’s…crazy.” You answer, sounding unintentionally sarcastic.

Gina awkwardly chuckles, eyes back on Wonwoo as if they never left. “All we need is Seonwoo and it’s like the musketeers again, huh?”

Hardly the musketeers when she only ever stalked Wonwoo the entire time. You’re surprised you didn’t find she didn’t follow him all the way to the bathroom too.

Wonwoo’s cold expression is a steel cage that lacks interest. He blindly nods, mumbling “sure,” and not giving any other sign of continuing the conversation.

“Well, you guys should totally make it to my housewarming party. I’m inviting all the other guys from the neighborhood. Invite Seonwoo too! It’ll be a nice way to catch up.”

“We’ll think about it,” Wonwoo answers, giving her another curt nod.

“I’ll be really, really grateful if you did.”

There are stars in her eyes, like a treat is dangling in front of it, that treat being a six-foot body of steel and perfect Wonwoo.

“Right,” he grunts.

She finally waves you both goodbye before making it past the glass doors with a quirk in her step.

You continue to peruse the rest of the store, picking up that one wooden statue that’s never been sold, or if it has, it keeps getting returned. It makes you wonder if it’s cursed. “Just reject her already and let her move on. Even I feel sorry for her.”

“I’m not ready for the aftermath of all that.”

You really have to unlearn that eye roll of yours. You could tell it’s giving you a headache. “Of course you aren’t.”

“You’re not going, are you? The thing she mentioned?”

“This the first time you met me? Of course, I’m not going. You are?”

He shrugs. “A party never hurt anybody.”

“Without an address?”

He pulls out his phone with a notification as clear as day, Gina’s Instagram handle ushering him with details of where the party whereabouts. “Who said I didn’t have an address?”

“She really needs to find a hobby.”

Wonwoo chuckles, tucking the phone back in his front pocket. “Ready to head back now? Unless you want to look through the store a second time.”

You groan. “Stop policing me. I’m going home.”

“I’ll take you.”

You raise your brow. “On your fucking death trap? No thanks.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms, the leather of his jacket speaking out of turn again. “You say that as if people aren’t begging to the back of my Harley.”

“Only people with a death wish.”

That goes on for some time until you make yourself walk the mile before your feet give out. Wonwoo obviously is the first with a smile on his face before he forces you to get the rest of the couple miles on the back of his bike, which was admittedly prettier in person than the photos your mom showed you.

There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you get on—no doubt regret—questioning the proximity. “Hold on,” he says, to which you answer, “fat fucking chance.”

Your spiteful words are wasted as you find yourself tugging on him as you speed off on the vehicle from hell on the freeway.

“You’re an asshole!” You scream from your lungs.

“And I told you to hold on!” He screams back, a wide smile on his face you have no way of seeing.

You desperately wrap your arms around his torso, your life flashing before your eyes like a movie. All you hear is the wind in your ears while the traffic lights are hardly visible through your tightly shut eyes. You feel your soul leave your body, thinking nothing but the idea of an afterlife. If there was one good thing about the predicament you’re in, it’d be that he can’t see the terror in your eyes. He doesn’t know how much you want to scream bloody murder.

Before you know it, you arrive home safe and sound, the gas stopping at the curb of your house. He abruptly uses the bike break and you crash against broad shoulders, and you exude bumbling idiocy as you cling to him like a baby with separation anxiety. Oxygen finally enters your brain and you recognize your compromised position, forcing your grip off of him. You unbuckle and shove his helmet into his lap as you get off, a permanent scowl on your face.

“Fuck you.”

“Glad to see you haven’t changed, Frosty.”

You don’t forget that encounter back then and you never get a chance to with your mom finding any excuse to see the Jeons day after day since your arrival. If that perfect apartment with affordable rent were to drop at your feet at a perfect time just when you so desperately needed it, it’d be now.

“Bring that in over next door. The Jeons will be thrilled to see their fridge stocked. And remember I’ll be gone until the morning.”

“We just gave them homemade wine yesterday. Mom, just because they live next door doesn’t mean we always have to plan to meet. We see them anyway.” You grab the cumbersome container of whatever it was anyway and hold it to your side like like a football, a strained expression on your face.

“You need to understand the value of lasting relationships. That’s why you’re still single, honey.”

You roll your eyes, groaning as you trod off, not wanting to start up another one of lectures why you're in your mid-twenties room with hardly any men in your books let alone in your court. Better off facing Jeon Wonwoo again than that, you guess.

You knock on their familiar white door, awaiting an answer from the other side. Soon enough you hear a masculine voice, but a voice that isn’t quite Wonwoo’s. The boy's fresh face on the receiving end piques your interest, an expression telling of a life of light and ease. Seonwoo stares back at you with a smile before politely waving. “It’s good seeing you! Been a minute.”

You find yourself returning a gesture, relaxing your arms. “It has. Mom wanted to send things over. Again.”

“Of course. Come in.”

You leave the box of goods in their fridge, feeling the presence of the younger Jeon follow behind you like a benevolent puppy. “Did you get in yesterday?”

“This morning. Early flight.”

You grin. “Singapore doing you good, I see.”

“Nothing like home though.”

You softly chuckle, “Yeah, there isn’t.”

Your conversation is cut short with another family coming down the stairs, one that looks ready to leave. They meet your eyes in amusement and his steps begin to falter in turn. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Don’t you dare make a joke about me missing you. It wasn’t funny any of the first five times.”

He’s smug as expected, entertained by the fact you’ve kept count. “I won’t, but it won’t make it any less true.”

You scoff. “Live in reality for once in your life, Wonwoo.”

“I will when you do.” He comes to the kitchen—briefly passing by you to do so and grazing your forearm—to fill a glass of water and downs it, his signature jacket thrown over his shoulders. He let out a refreshed sigh in your direction and put it away as soon as he finished. “I’m leaving now. When you change your mind about missing me, I’ll be at Gina’s party. Might actually find some fun there while you’re at it.”

The door closes behind him dramatically and your attention is right back on Seonwoo, the successful bystander. “Your brother is annoying.”

The young man smiles, finding the nostalgia in that small event. “Reminds me of the good old times.”

“Well, I should get going.”

“You’re going to the party too?”

You shake your head. “Not the slightest bit interested. Just trying to keep myself busy while I’m still in town.”

“Plan on leaving already? You just got here.”

“I can’t live on my parents forever. Need to make a living of my own you know.”

He softly laughs, a warm light enveloping his presence. He always seems to emit pure joy. Like there was nothing that could ruin this kid's day. “Nice to see you haven’t changed. Still self-reliant.”

You can’t help but smile back, “… Wouldn't be me if I wasn’t. I'll see you later, kid.”

You walk back home and go on with the rest of your afternoon by carrying on the duties of a college graduate with no job: endless job hunting. You let yourself go on that way for an hour, already bored by rereading your applicant details and sending in copies and copies of cover letters and documents. Your eyes have started to see stars shooting from either corner, warning signs of mental fatigue.

Shaking the numbing feeling, you shut off your laptop and notice the time on the clock. In the back of your mind, you’re remembering that party Wonwoo ended up going to. These parties weren’t by any means rare, but it had been some time since you let yourself give into environments as such. You said you wouldn't go but in dire situations of weary silences, perhaps it would hurt to take a second in a new subsubspace. Something to take off the edge of the weight of your undetermined future.

Against your initial better judgment, you force yourself out of that house to enter that very party you said you wouldn't go to. So like Gina to make an event over a normal thing like this. You don’t put much thought into what you wear and leave the house and when you arrive late as you were, you are unsurprised by the huge turnout. Five seconds in, you’re already regretting the 10 bucks you paid via UBER to get there.

The house was so Gina. As expected of one of the daughters of the wealthiest families in town. As you enter, all you hear is music, loud and rambunctious voices and laughter, and shouts of barely adults chugging whatever concoction in those house party solo cups. It all quickly reminds you of college and high school, times in your life you were relieved to know were over.

Why did you decide to come again if you knew this was going to happen?

You try ignoring the voices that seem to recognize you, evading and walking through the place for a potential drink to buzz you out of self-consciousness. If you were going to be in a place like this, a drink was warranted by all means.

“Wonwoo, come on!”

Gina’s voice, easily distinguishable, resonates from the other end of the room and sees how her presence bounces like a kite in the wind. You look in the direction of her gaze to find the person she seeks, ultimately having Wonwoo being dragged by the wrist, his hair sweeping the swift breeze of her force. You were a bit relieved to see him, someone who is more similar to you in ways you’d never willingly admit.

You feel the urge to approach, curious how he’ll handle this one, but intentions all change of a brisk move, changing setting immediately. One second Gina looks up at him with doe eyes that speak longing and ache, another second her arms are looped around his neck and she pulls his lips against hers, massaging against them naturally as if rehearsed. Your feet stop, watching the unsightly scene like it’s a car crash as if in slow motion, taking you only a second to realize he hasn't yet let go.

Slowly then quickly, your chest pulls up like a marionette doll before it drops in a lump, repeating until the sound of your heart is rapidly pounding into your skull. You don’t understand it, but you don’t want to either. Swiftly, you duck back and turn your head in the other direction, having seen enough.

Then panic ensues.

People are harder to brush through than you realize. Colliding each one was like speed bumps in your way of a smooth departure. You were bound to have one person take a drunken offense to your rash movement and there it was: a subtle push that led to a spilled drink that stains the shirt of a man big enough to frighten children if he approached.

“Watch the fuckkk ya goin’!”

You don’t bother with the importance of apologizing or even acknowledging him. You realize it too late when he pulls at your collar back towards him, strangling you at the throat.

“S…stupid bitch can’t even see…fucking ruin my—hic—deink”

Your hands come around his grip, attempting to pry him off. “L-let me go. The fuck?”

“The fuck you say to me piece of shi—ah!”

He finally releases you when Wonwoo appears from behind him, tossing him out like an old ragdoll with no weight. The drunkard comes crashing down to the hardwood floor and before he realizes the cause of it, said cause whisks you away with his gril looping around your wrist.

“You’re going home right the fuck now,” Wonwoo grumbles, dragging you out of other guests' way and right out of the door, once again leading you to his motorcycle. “Bike now.”

“Wonwoo, what the fuck—“

“You aren’t an idiot. You knew what was gonna happen if I hadn’t stepped in. Now get on before fee fi fo fum finds out we left.”

“I’m not getting on that death trap again!”

His glare pierces right through you. “I know you'd rather be at home than here. Especially with the probability of becoming a statistic. Get on.”

He is right for the most part and even you’re seeing through your nonsensical defiance. Reluctantly, you follow his lead, knowing he’s left you with no other choice. You endure another near death experience, this time clutching on to him less resistantly unlike last time all the way back home. It is when you’re at the foot of your door you only realize the keys that were supposed to be in your pocket but left on the kitchen counter instead.

“Shit.”

Wonwoo quickly puts the pieces together. “No key?”

You shake your head, embarrassed slightly over your feeble appearance. “No, and mom won’t be back until the morning so I’m screwed.”

“Alright. You’re sleeping over.”

You scoff looking back at him, wondering whether he’s in the right state of mind to make that call. “You’re kidding.”

“Not unless you’re okay slumbering at the footstep of your door.”

Another choice made of your hands. You discouragingly follow after him as he unlocks the door across the street. Seonwoo was evidently still home with his loafers by the foot of the door but dead asleep upstairs in bed.

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch,” he offers nodding in the direction of the living room.

“No thanks, I’ll take the couch.”

He groans, giving that irritated look. “Don’t be difficult and just sleep in the damn bed.”

You huff, strutting over towards the couch. “Sleep in your own damn bed, Jeon. Stop treating me like you’re my babysitter.”

He follows after you, crossing his arms like an annoyed mother, “You’re really gonna be like this?”

“I’m not being like anything.”

“You know what?” He grabs the throw pillow off the couch, “Fine. We’ll share the couch.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow back at him.

The smug smile on his face says it all, knowing there was no rebuttal to follow. “Neither of us will take the bed, we’ll both will take the couch.”

Before you can argue, he ascends the stairs for more bedding and comes back to toss you a blanket and pillow. He keeps one of each for himself, sprawling on the other end of the massive couch, gesturing you to do the exact same. Cautiously, you mirrored his image, crawling under your borrowed blanket. Despite your feet not touching, you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the close proximity, forcing you to crunch up your legs and bring your knees close to your chest.

Wonwoo’s eyes drop in place, nuzzling into his thick blanket. “Good night.”

“Whatever.”

He softly scoffs with a smile, basking in the silence. Meanwhile, there was you, wondering why you listened to his instructions so willingly. You sigh, your eyes glued to the ceiling counting every bump and curve of its textured surface.

“This is stupid it’s literally 10 pm”

“Sounds like bedtime.”

You peek back at him, his eyes still closed. “You did not go to a party to plan on sleeping at 10 pm.”

“You don’t know what my plans are. Sleep now.”

“I could’ve handled it, you know,” you argue.

“I bet you could’ve,” he responds dryly. “Wasn’t gonna take that risk though.”

“I’m serious…you didn’t have to, especially since…”

“What?”

“You know,” you take a moment to form the words, “whatever that was with Gina.”

You hear him scoff, shifting on his side of the couch. “Nothing was happening with Gina.”

You let out a parched laugh, in disbelief of the words leaving his lips. “Wow, that lie comes so easy, does it?”

“Believe what you want. It’s not what you think anyway.”

“You’re so…obnoxious,” you sputter.

“Thank you.”

“So when did that happen? You and Gina?”

He huffs hot air out of his nose.“There’s no me and Gina. I don’t know what you saw, but…it’s nothing.”

“You were kissing.”

“You could call it that.”

“For a while,” You add.

“Just enough for her to find closure.”

“And did she?”

“Saved your ass before I could find out.”

You have no response to that and you let the silence take over for a few minutes. After those few minutes, Wonwoo was the one to break the peace.

“You asleep yet.”

“No, it’s not even 11,” you answer exasperatedly.

“Well, I'm tired.”

“Go to sleep then.”

“You should sleep before I do.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “I'm supposed to take care of you. It’s what your mom would want.”

“Why? I'm a grown adult.”

“I don’t think an explanation is needed.”

“Ever heard of personal space?”

“Make some smart decisions and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a dick,” you grunt, turning away from view.

“I’m only trying to protect you.”

This shit again. You pushed yourself up from the couch to sit up, fuming in his direction. “Because your mom asked. Okay, I get it, but you’re not obligated to anymore because I’m your mom's friend’s kid. Just stop.”

“That’s not why–”

“Stop lying–”

“I’m not fucking lying,” he says matching your stance. His gaze meets yours in anguish, urging you to drop it.

You scoff, lying back down in a sleeping position with your back turned towards him. “Whatever.”

“...Despite popular belief, I’m actually concerned about you sometimes.”

“I guess…I don't entirely find that hard to believe.”

“Thank you. It’s not like I hate you.”

“Sure,” you answer, voice basted in sarcasm.

“I don’t.” You hear his body shift back down on the couch, finding comfort between the leather cushions.

“Then why are you such a dick.”

He sighs. “Sorry.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“...Sorry.”

You ponder to yourself, wanting to turn back the clock to the earlier conversation for unknown reasons. You turn your body, seeing how his body mimics your body seconds ago, back turned, eyes closed, and facing the couch. “So if not Gina–”

“There’s no one,” he cuts off, “I mean, I'm not seeing anyone.”

It reassures you. Not that it should’ve. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Okay.”

You’re unsure when you drifted off, you only remember it being mid-conversation that your vision started to blur, followed by darkness and soon the light of the following morning. You wake up in Wonwoo’s house unexpectedly alone, quiet enough to hear the sound of a pin dropping. You enter the kitchen, parched, and you find a plate of food. You approach cautiously, catching a glimpse of the note, immediately catching on to why it was so damn empty.

Went to get stuff done. Keep yourself entertained for a bit. - Wonwoo and Seonwoo

With an impish grin, you quickly run your fork over and over into the balanced meal and nourish your body, but slow down as your subconscious reminds you of last night's events. It wanders to your impulse to attend a party out of sheer boredom, stumbling upon an unexpected scene, before immediately trying to escape it before you are caught. The kiss becomes a scene stuck on replay, playing the image like a broken record. You did not black out, though you wish you had, considering your uncalled-for badgering of Wonwoo’s relationship status you shouldn’t have cared less about. Yet do.

You try bruising it off if you can help it, quick to leave, and relieved to find your mom home to let you in. Your day begins a new, and with a new day, she already has stuff for you to do. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so grateful to be let back in home, remembering to grab your keys this time as you left the house again following her request for grocery shopping.

You drink in the town for the first time since being back, questioning yourself why you hadn’t done it earlier. The block isn’t that different since you left, perhaps more greenery and flowers, but otherwise everything looked the same. Same old town, same old stores, the only thing difference was the people. Fine lines got deeper, toddlers now taller, and you now a stranger. Even the grocery store has changed managers, one adolescent bag boy at a time.

Even long finished with grocery shopping, you’re still wandering the center of town, circling in steps of the alternating tiles of the ground. For a moment, you free yourself from your thoughts, your worries, your ambitions, and live in the moment. It had been so long since you felt like this. You expected the feeling to emerge in college but that had been just another thing on your plate and suddenly you’re reminded of Wonwoo. Knowing him, he’d like this sight of you, proud to see you experience another emotion for a change.

Then your eyes flit back to the scene several meters from you. He reappears in your vision just as he has in your thoughts, only now Gina embracing him, squeezing the life out of him just as the life is squeezed out of your chest. He meets your eyes, his pupils expanding, before lightly pushing the poor girl off of him, but not in enough time to stop you from trying to escape again.

“Hey!”

You ignore him, letting your feet take you where it guides you. You’re blind to the incoming obstacles, brushing past pedestrians, shoulder everybody you meet, and you barely register the busy road before your feet make an unexpected halt. You hear the blaring honks until you’re pulled out, face crashing into their shoulder, arms coming around your in strong enclosure.

“Are you stupid? Why are you running into oncoming traffic?”

You shove him off, heart beating louder in your chest than any bike ride he’s taken you on has, and you’re seething in an emotion that you never expected to be in. Never in this lifetime at least. “Wonwoo just stop. Please.”

“I’m not doing anything. I don’t get why you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m just sick of this. Of you. I can’t do this.”

“Why? Why? What do you think this is?”

“Just, leave me alone, Wonwoo.”

He sees you trying to walk out on him again and he doesn’t let you. Taking you by your arm, he pulls you towards him, leaving only the width of your forearm as his gaze pierces right through you, brimming with a mix of concern and utter anger. Frustration. Impatience.

If there was one thing about Wonwoo, he may have looked like he came from an anger management class, but he did manage it well. When he didn’t, your feet would feel glued to the concrete, frozen in the fire of his eyes, for once fearing what the man had to say.

“You know what? No. I’m not letting you do this? I don’t understand what’s going on or why you hate me so much–”

“God,” you groan, “it would be so easy if I just hated you.”

“Then what is it? You don’t hate me. You don’t like me. What? I’m wracking my brain trying to understand you–”

You don’t let him finish. You aren't sure what was in the breakfast you had today but you find yourself pulling him by the collar to meet his lips only to push him away in that instant, barely a whisper of his presence in your mouth. You clamp your hand over your mouth before finally treading away shocked by your actions, scurrying away.

He doesn’t follow you and you don’t blame him. You retrieve your once-abandoned groceries from the intersection to then find your way home. Rain is close to follow, drenching from head to toe. As if things couldn’t get any worse.

When you get home, you’re alone once again. The door shuts with a clang and you’re left in your self wallow, regret burning the back of your throat. Your back slid against the wood, a deep exhale expelling from your lungs. “So that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Like clockwork, you feel a knock erupt from the same door. Conceding to whatever was on the other side, you brush yourself up from the ground and turn the knob, only to be taken aback. Wonwoo, wet like made from glass with his locks swept over his head, stands before you panting. On either hand is a bundle of flowers barely protected in the cellophane it came with when he bought them and his cell phone he’s death gripping in his hand, no doubt damaged by the rain.

You blink back at him, lips parting in confusion. “Wonwoo…You’re wet.”

“Likewise.” He invites himself in and sets the flowers on a table nearby, not even for a second letting his gaze stray from yours. “You left me hanging there. Kiss a guy and walk away like he means nothing?”

You shake your head in disbelief, processing this, him. “Why are you here…with flowers?”

“I really do have to spell out everything for you, don’t I?” he responds smiling.

The squelch of his shoes trod in your direction, the invisible string connecting you two shortening. Preventing your evasion, you feel the palm of his hand against your back and your lips crash in a lingering reunion. The squeak of his slippery leather doesn't make it past your ears, distracted by the heat of his lips in the clash of the coolness of his rain-stained skin.

Your hand crawls up his neck to press him closer, feeling the strength of his arms wrap around you tighter before shutting the front door effortlessly with his foot. He lets you pin him against the door, lips tight bound to yours, and relief settles in his stomach as you show no sign of pulling away. He finds himself whispering a word of gratitude in every language, smiling against your lips. “No more excuses…I’m not letting anyone get in the way. Not even you.”

You finally break out in a smile, brushing it against his lips before reclaiming them, not minding the wet leather.

You spend the rest of the day in each other’s company. You put away the groceries before the room temperature worked against their favor and got yourselves changed out of your rain-dampened clothes, throwing them in the dryer. Even if he lived right next door, you allow him to wear your most oversized shirt after he insisted he should, watching the cotton fabric cling to his broad shoulders with the hem just hitting him at his hip bone.

Man, he’s a large man.

“Kinda snug.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in an attempt to hold yourself back. “You can get clothes next door. You’re just a few steps away.”

He grins, approaching you. “It’s raining…I could get sick.” His long arms land on either of your shoulders, reminding you of that cat that knew too much in a childhood cartoon. “You don’t want me sick…”

“You wouldn’t get sick taking two long strides to your house, Jeon,” you respond, rolling your eyes, unable to meet his.

“But you’d take care of me if I was, right?”

You roll your eyes, accepting his advances of a hug and feeling his chin fit in the crook of your neck. “Kiss a guy two times too many and he follows you around like a stray cat.”

He grins. “You like it. Don’t act like you don’t. You probably even like my bike and you’re not telling me.”

“Okay well, no. Those are two separate matters.”

His arms wrap around you tighter before reuniting your lips, such tenderness and sweetness in his gaze as he thumbs over the curve of your cheek. “You don’t deny that other thing.”

“I thought was already point blank. You know, when I didn’t push you away, kicking and screaming.”

“Yeah, but,” he shrugs, his cheekbones only getting higher. “Hard to come by something nice from you. I want to hear it.”

You sigh, giving in. “Fine.”

Your head fit between the divide of his chest, hearing a quickened pulse underneath it. You close your eyes as your hand strokes against his back. “I have… feelings for you. Maybe for once good feelings. Just don’t get cocky about it.”

Overwashed with calm joy, he takes you tighter, inhaling the soap in your hair. “Too late.”

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