#angry is a rapid tapping

[not-quitenormal]

Autism Screening Test: "You flap your hands or the equivalent when overstimulated."

Me: "No."

Me: "...my feet go crazy, though."

[kooyabooya]

SUITS, (STOCKINGS), & TIES

m reader x minju // 9k words

For the record, there aren’t any fingerprints seen underwater. Nothing to tie one to a crime. The trial itself is already a rapid current, pulling you and everyone around the bullpen into the endless sea of papers, payment record documents, video recording transcripts, then more fucking papers, and you absolutely hate it.

Files boxed in dating back to even before taking the damn job, the amount of trips to and from the copying machine, getting the materials right. Avoiding any fuck ups; that too, was always the end goal - staring at the blue folder sitting on your desk until–

Your fucking intercom’s ringing again. 

It’s always a trip, that’s how it usually flows around here: a turn to the left, round the front desk of the floor, hook right down the insanely long walkway, glass windows giving you this nice view of the city skyline. Pretty, at around one in the morning of another late night of work stacked upon your desk. 

Easy enough to also: take a moment to admire the view, since it’s the kind of view that you’d never get over no matter how many times you look at it. You sigh at the playback in your head, something that Chaeyeon talked to you about while hiding away from the pressures of work in her own office, bumping coffee mugs and wishing that the building had sliding windows to let the high breeze through. 

They would never allow that. You tell her, keeping the vibe lighthearted with a laugh. I mean seriously, even if we did, it’s all fun and games until someone in one of the conference rooms below us sees a body hurling down towards the ground at a hundred miles per hour. Chaeyeon complains that the air conditioning doesn’t even reach her office sometimes, and tells you that she’s jealous, wanting to switch places with you since the sun hits her back during the work hours. 

Sweeping past her office, since she’s gone for the day, the carpet gets pressed down by your loafers, tilting your head to see that the office at the very end of the walkway has the lights on, and you do notice the gap where the door should be; meaning that it’s open or someone stepped inside. 

This was the end point of this overbearing yet brief journey. The office that was considered to be base camp, the command center, the brains, one would say. One of the firm’s most well known figures with how she leans back into her chair with a leg across the other, showing that she means business, and knows how to look good while doing it. 

Prior, you loop around the pane entering the room- 

“You’re saying that I should sit back and do nothing?” Minju asks, finger tapping the peak of her nose, clearly pressed. 

“I’m not telling you to,” the woman standing across her with a left hand fastened to the hip with a lean to her right side, “We’re backed into a corner and all I’m saying is that we have to draw back and take this at a new angle.” 

“But you said that last time! And look where it’s got us.” Minju shoots back, both feet on the floor now, drawing herself closer to make a point. You’re trying to not make your presence known, seeing where this exchange is headed, fighting the urge to not butt in and make a fool of yourself. “Cutting a deal with the very same person that is trying to come back and rip everything from us was all part of your plan?” 

“Minju, I know you’re angry but–” 

Minju slaps her hand down on the desk, “We’ve got them right where we wanted, pulled all the stops, and now you want to just back off?” 

“I’m not backing off, I’ve managed to buy us more time.” the woman says, pressing on the rim of her glasses, sighing when Minju doesn’t even bother to look back at her in the eye, flipping through a packet with a pen in her hand to check and see if there was anything that was usable to help the situation. You’ve seen the packet on her desk earlier that way, ran that by Hyewon, her secretary, and now she’s finally looking at it. 

“Two days. That’s all I got until we fall back with the judge.” she says to Minju, “Unless you have something for me on my desk later today, I’m officially and unofficially grounding you.” 

“Dahyun-” 

“Zip it.” Dahyun says, mimicking a pulling motion with her right hand to her lip, “You’re already stretched thin as it is, this case is already taking a toll on all of us and this would be the last thing I need on my mind.” 

A tap to the glass on the entryway, “Is this a bad time?” 

The two women look at you in suspicion, both of them not even realizing that the door was open the entire time, listening to the conversation, “How long have you been standing there?” Dahyun asks, pointing at you while you’re leaned against the glass, foot pointed to the floor all relaxed and everything. 

“I’ve been here long enough, but a little over five minutes.” you answer, blue folder in hand. “Didn’t want to interrupt the usual bickering on a casual Thursday evening.” you also add, stepping inside Minju’s office where it opens up.  

The great Kim Minju, one of the firm’s best lawyers, and Dahyun’s right hand woman, one of the key people sitting at the high table; also your handler of these different cases and adventures that she usually sends you to do or help her with. Her office was classy, a row shelves off to the right side filled with an assortment of vinyls and picture frames of the people that she holds most dear to her heart. A record player was next to this trolley that had a kettle and a bowl of candies (though she doesn’t like to admit that she’s got a sweet tooth); there’s also her violet couch in velvet that you’ve also passed out on multiple times, drunk on the sweet scent that you still have to figure out which one she uses for that. 

“This is the last file for the case I managed to scrounge and put together.” you tell Minju, sliding it over across while her inky eyes dart at you, prompting a questioning eyebrow out of both of you while Dahyun’s gaze falls on top. “Everything in terms of deals within the last year from our target man should be all in there. Though, we had a minor hiccup earlier this week with–” 

“Don’t remind me,” Minju vexes, “That was my screwup with the family and now I’m paying for it.” 

“After I told you not to jump the gun.” Dahyun jumps in, hand on the corner of the granite. She sounds annoyed; after all, she was technically the ‘fall guy’ in all of this with her hiccup also in mishandling the exchanged information, not her fuck up though, since she was set up from the beginning after a hidden clause she signed a long time ago. She also swoops in to grab the file, opening it to skim through the papers, slightly nodding at what she could read for a few seconds. “Impressive,” Dahyun nods, “this is good leverage.” 

“Thank you,” you say, smirking while Dahyun hands you back the file for Minju to look at, pulling it out of your fingers to flip through. “Had some help from Hyewon, but didn’t want to take all of the credit.” 

“Well I appreciate you both.” Dahyun adds, “I had my doubts when I got the call to come back and see what all the fuss was about. Now, I can breathe a little more easily knowing that we have this in the bag, I hope.” 

“I’m still here, you know.” Minju huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Hush,” Dahyun scrunches funnily, taps your shoulder, causing you to shrug nonchalantly, “Thank you for hanging back to help me take care of this while I’ve been dealing with my moving situation. God, it's been a back breaker for me.” 

“How’d that go?” 

“We finally settled in, I had a small housewarming party about a few weeks ago or so, but I’ve been keeping in touch with–” 

“You said that your friend Sana was living in the area too, right? From college?” Minju suddenly asks, pen flat on the paper and fully invested in the life update. Dahyun nods to this while you’re pursing your lips at the news. You’re not one to lend an ear to these things, but you just can’t help yourself when they’re being talked about in the open. Talk about separating privacy and professionalism. 

“Yeah, it’s been good to see her, if it wasn’t for this fucking cas–” 

“Dahyun, it’s fine. We got it.” you tell her, slowly nodding to ease the stress, “You’re already doing so much by coming back from leave to deal this along with us. It shows that you do care about this firm and the reputation that it has.” 

“Look at you being a kiss ass.” Minju deadpans. You pay no attention to that. 

“And not taking this ordeal would've put the firm into crisis mode having the last thing I’d want to happen.” Dahyun scoffs, “Besides, the value is way more than that once all of this is over.” She starts to make her way out of Minju’s office, turning around to face both of you with eye contact, “I assume that you two will close up shop when you’re done?” 

“Don’t even need to remind us.” you tell her, Minju looks up with a soft smile across her face, lightly waving at Dahyun before she gives you two a quick goodbye, leaving shortly after. “She seemed a little more dismissive than usual, like she wanted to give us alone time don’t you think?” 

“I can’t stand her nosy ass sometimes, trying to veer the way how I want to do things.” 

“Ouch.” 

“I’m serious,” Minju shoots back, flipping through the packet, not giving an ounce of care through all of the blacked lines or different clauses in the suggested proposal that would settle this whole case. “I love Dahyun - I mean - she has the spare set of keys to my damn apartment since she moved away, that’s how much she means to me.” 

“Didn’t think you’d be sappy over your boss, especially after the shit show that we’d–” 

“One more word out of your smart mouth and I’ll stop looking through your documents to stall time.” 

“You already signed it, though.” you say, pouting with a frown, “Which also means that this should all officially end by tomorrow.” 

Minju sweeps through the row of open and unopened files spread across her desk, eyes canvassing between the texts and dried ink of signatures, vying for some sort of leverage that would go against Dahyun’s wishes. It’s natural for her to be extremely nitpicky - highlighted with a small curtain of hair falling in front of her forehead, pulling the side of her index finger back while her pretty eyelashes flutter about. She’s refined and very sophisticated, the kind that makes you stop in your tracks one day when she waltzes in the office on her own time, and not that she’s thirty minutes late in the morning. 

Throw the law degree away bucko, maybe that avenue of studying art and architecture would’ve been the better option considering how much you’ve been staring for the past five minutes. 

To fill in, here’s the brief rundown of the position. 

A lot of people would’ve killed to be Minju’s associate. I mean, the woman seeps in ‘getting what she wants’. You could consider yourself lucky, but Minju already had eyes on you from the first second you stepped into her office for the interview. The interview itself wasn’t all that glamorous: renting one of your best friend’s designer suits that would’ve been more usable for a fucking award show spritzed with a cologne that was way out of your league in terms of scent let alone price, a typo on the fucking resume that she looks with an eyebrow for an explanation, and a lasting impression that whatever happens would deem only to be the best going forward. 

Minju wanted someone who excelled both in book and street smarts, be able to get a grasp on the situation faster within the first few seconds of receiving the case or news, and most importantly, to steer Minju’s level of thinking where even the most irrational decisions would be reasonable. 

You hit all the marks, and qualified to be associate. End of story. 

“Everything that we all have here is solid substantial evidence,” Minju cuts in with a paper flipped back to the top of the page, pen flat on her fingers as if she’s fed up with playing reviewing proctor, “Nothing would change with what we already have on the case.” 

“But the conclusion would be different,” you reply, sitting opposite to her, respectfully doing nothing but twiddling a pen between your fingers, considering that you were pretty much done with your bout in the file room earlier today, finding the last bits of documents from the archives that would help into comprising the settlement. “After all, it’ll be you and Dahyun in that conference room tomorrow closing the deal. I’m just passing papers.” 

“I suppose that you’re afraid of taking credit where it counts. Because why put in much effort for this case especially when someone else could’ve handled it when I asked?” 

“Dahyun insisted on coming back to oversee this. Had it been anyone else, the firm would’ve been up in flames if it wasn’t for her quick thinking pulling up the memos and signing payments from all those years ago.” 

Minju closes your blue folder, sliding it off to the side, flipping open her laptop without a flinch before typing away. “You know,” she starts, giving you this quick gaze that has you nicking your head a few millimeters, catching the pen in between your fingers to highlight that she has your attention, “I could’ve done this myself with Hyewon’s help, give you at least some days off after working you down the bone.”

“Now why would you do that?” you ask, four fingertips on the back of Minju’s laptop, closing it slowly while you’re rounding the fine corner of her obsidian desk, thumb wrapping underneath when her chair meets square with your hips. “That’s not very work-efficient for you to do that to me now, is it?” 

“You want to lecture me on how I should make you operate?” 

“She knows about us…by the way.” you tell Minju straightforward, smirking when you see that high arch of her brow, grimacing at the faulty accusation that she already knows by way of presentation. Doesn’t take long also for the different neurons firing in her brain that’s filled to the brim by the way of the law - only for that to be completely flattened out in one of those lobes replaced with various details of what you’re talking about.

“What are you talking about?” Minju asks, tilting her head upward that makes the sight of the high ground utterly so familiar. 

“Dahyun can easily tell that we have something going on,” you remind her, “She can easily read the both of us like a children’s book and–” 

“Bullshit,” her face crinkling with a tone more deaf the the simple drone of a dead phone line, “You know damn well that there’s nothing happening between us, so stop with the conviction.”  

“I’m not saying that you’re being convicted of my point,” you start, pushing her chair away to leave you space when you’re leaning over, seeing her back hit the cushion of the chair where she wiggles more comfortably with both hands on the armrests, “if anything, you’re just simply denying that there was ever really a thing between you and I.” 

“And that should be the end of that, no?” Minju coos, tipping her head a little bit higher, “Can you concur that there is nothing happening between us, especially in the workplace?” 

Minju is a professional, on par with the same archetypes like Dahyun. She’s witty, calculated, knows a lot more things from her experience compared to you, and blowhards herself way too much for anyone’s own liking. Every argument with her always starts with her leading the charge, to make you feel smaller right off the bat so that you’d have no way to counter unless your point seems fit to her points of focus. 

Okay, it may not be every verbal exchange with her on a day to day basis, considering that it’s also filled with witty banter and small inside jokes that could totally fall within the implications of the term ‘flirting’, but nothing ever really escalated from that. 

You also stuck your ears in between conversations during various corporate events and coworker mixers. Hell, even the pool of associates away from the main quarters of partners and senior partners all gave you the necessary praise for the chemistry that you’ve developed with Minju. Some days she wants to have your head on a platter, other days the talks were good, and you two managed to get things done around the office. 

Except for one day, and the details are still a bit murky for you to put up in recording: another workday in the office, maybe a little slow for Wednesday transition from morning to an afternoon -  but a free flowing circulation of phone calls, fax reports, conference appointments with clients, and a running order of Hyewon’s go-to latte from the coffee shop on the first floor. 

Bouncing back and forth between Dahyun’s office and Yuri’s, you make a quick detour towards Minju’s office who happened to slot herself on the left side of you while matching your walking pace. Expecting a quick quip from her like any other morning, you were waiting for it, but she hits you with the ‘file room, now.’ order that has you in-tow right behind her on the way there. 

Though your mind was already in overtime mode with the workload that was dropped to your desk roughly about two hours since arriving, it had already been nonstop and maybe Minju’s time could be quick if it was related to saving the firm from being purged by pulling some old papers in the filing room. Somewhere along those lines, your mind gets blanked out from the cramped space of the metal shelves, those dusty boxes, compounded by dim lighting in the room already. 

What you do remember: 

The small little gasps and hums when you’re sucking along the line of Minju’s neck, gripping the fistfuls of her dress and sliding your hand along her thighs. 

(So much for keeping it professional with the woman who’s also technically your primary boss.)

“How do you want to go about this?” you ask, “Do you want me to persuade you into telling Dahyun that we need a little more time?” 

Minju hums, pensively, as the question itself is rather a tempting decision that’s also actionable at best. You could see the small lump from the inside of her cheek before she shifts it across her upper lip to the other side, twisting her chair forward to place both elbows on the desk with fingers intertwined like she’s praying for the Lord’s insight from above. “We’ve been on the nose with this thing for too long now, I think it’s about time to cut our losses before things get ugly.” 

You don’t say anything, leaning yourself onto the obsidian while your arms bridge themselves together, flexing the wool in the threads when she makes eye contact with you, flicking her eyes back onto the paper where there’s a few blank lines that still need to be written in ink. 

With a simple lift of her signature ballpoint pen by you, she takes it, twirling it around like you were doing a few minutes ago to imply that your point finally got through to her, fingers grazing along the fine paper to fill in the gaps. 

But the vantage point where your ass is pressed against the edge is proving to be some sense of uncomfortability, so you change course, from left to right, vacant chair adjacent to the desk in your hands in a fraction of a second, scooching closely while Minju scoffs at the prying during the task, “Didn’t think it’d be that easy for you to be cooperative with the demands.” 

“Stop,” and Minju sings this with the better facade of her naivete, “Unlike you, I’m willing to actually listen to what's being asked from the first try, and not have it repeated to me through different remarks.”  

You get too close, too soon, when the ends of her hair brushes against the front corner of your lips and cheek, she could hear the air close at the bottom of your throat when the tip of your nose barely grazes her cheekbone. A moment like this occurred before, you could say it’s in the sense of deja vu: Minju invites you out for some quality time between partner and associate, a few drinks were on the table, and Minju challenges you to a simple game of pool. 

Sounds pretty mangable and straightforward, right? 

Wrong. 

You get shafted by Minju the first game, pull yourself back the next round. There’s this back and forth like usual banter between colleagues, dishing out trash talk for some good ol’ competition. The count of drinks gets lost along with the perception of time, and this happens on impulse when you’re backed into a corner with the eight ball being the last one for Minju while you’re behind on three solids. She rambled about you being always two steps behind and you can’t blame or deny the fact that she’s also way out of your league, so what do you do? Take the pleasantries of hums to your advantage, molding your hips along with hers, calloused hands lightly clinging onto the denim while your chin nestles into her collarbone, saying carelessly with intent of taunting, don’t you think you should call the last shot if you do make it? 

Minju nips her lip triumphantly, turning her head, catching on with what you’re incessantly doing, whispering her call: left corner pocket. The attention to the black ball slips out of your mind when she presses your lips onto your cheek, a fatal blow while the space opens up between you again, tipping her head back also lets you know that you lost the best of three series, which also meant that the loser has to pay the bill. 

(You pay your dues, but also add the pay up by making your own call: pocketing yourself into Minju’s cunt on her bed later that would only serve all the wiser.) 

A flashback in your mind that took minutes, only to be reeled into the real world by merely seconds, “You missed one more claus–” 

That gap could be filled after, because this deal on the agenda was more important to deal with. 

Minju grabs you by the tie, leveling your head with hers. Your hands are quick to smooth out her skirt from behind, letting the various files and dossiers rest across the desk or on the floor, depending where her hands land for a proper hold. Some lights stay on long after hours, to serve as a subtle ambience that no matter what time it may be, someone’s still hard at work on a case, or waiting for their personal driver on the ground floor. Though, some other cases include a well-spoken conversation, or even just chatting between colleagues - this chat about work with Minju however, was anything but that. 

Right off the bat, you’re reminded of how Minju is so easy to break down, despite her having a front that has every possible contingency of shutting herself away from others because she’s not that kind of character to be soft and open, until where your fingers are dancing alongside the slope of her bottoms at the hips, thumb rounding the hard end with a slow pull of her chair to reel closer until you’re at the edge of your seat. 

The move itself is so subtle, setting her on the desk in a similar position that you were in while she was signing through the documents with her ass pressed against the desk, scooching back while dancing with her tongue, lips parted with her head tilted. You’ve also managed to get your hands underneath Minju’s perfect thighs, lifting her up to the tabletop, spreading her long limbs much like to that excerpt of Moses parting the Red Sea, dipping your hand underneath to get a feel of her lace. 

Minju’s breaths become slightly erratic, nearly short-circuiting the more your fingertips dance along the line of her skirt; inner thighs pressing along the side of your hips while you cater your mouth and fingers in her hair, her neck, the growing heat rising in the skin when she whimpers through your teeth given how cold it was in the room. How your fingertips graze along the slightly damp fabric with one- maybe two tips, you chuckle softly at how she’s very responsive to the touch, the small clutch around your neck and back from her arms to serve as a safeguard. 

This is something that you’ll probably take to the District Attorney, let alone have Dahyun in the loop, in the specific case where you find yourself with no other option, a last resort to drown her into the ground: 

“Let me ask you this again,” you prompt with another received kiss to the growing swell of your bottom lip, “Are you sure that there’s nothing happening between us? Especially in the workplace?” 

Minju gasps out before you shut her up with your lips, channeling the moan when you increase the intensity of swirling around her clit, putting her hips out forward to sate that ache for at least something, anything. 

“You’re certain that you can say with full confidence that you have no kind of interest in me, whatsoever, admit to me right now that I’m correct.” 

You could tell from the look on her face and the moan she lets out, vocal cords open and freely flowing with the heavy tone while crumbling at the touch, all hot and wet and losing most of the plot at this point before even getting to the real business. It’s really wicked, how this woman as your boss flaunts around the floor, knowing that she won’t let anything get in her way for getting the case done, doing whatever it takes to see it through to the end and even if the methods aren’t within the boundaries. 

Like you could handle the boundaries yourself, playing nice isn’t always the way to go. 

While your hand hikes up the smooth skin of her thigh, feeling an unfamiliar ridge, a weave, something that hugs her leg that probably deserves to be there, to help with the appearance and everything- maybe not or maybe so, you’ll assess when the moment gets there. She grips around what she could touch in terms of your blazer, hips pushing forward at the flex of muscle when you’re scratching the surface of her clothed cunt, the ripple effect shown in her body as she arches first, then sighs into your collarbone the next. 

“Mmn, pretty–” Minju groans out, letting a small hiss through the porcelain cracks of her teeth, “so well, so, so amazing.” 

You’ll seek out the wants, the needs, the odds to break even, testing out the very little restraints in patience left while this cold-hearted woman is melting into your touch, giving you the benefit of having free reign over her body, when she’s murmuring these little hums and broken phrases that switches back to yours with more perversion. 

“I need an answer from you.” Playing prosecutor against the defense wasn’t always ideal unless it’s a mock trial, but you’re always one to challenge Minju, getting her to see your points on a day to day basis, proving her wrong when you know it’s impossible to. She can see right through you, always letting you take the loss, never accepting a victory that you rightfully deserved. You’ll be good, go to her when you’re in a rut, she expects it to happen, that’s how loyalty works. Though, there’s nothing wrong with being defiant. “Don’t make me ask again.” 

It’s all a tease, the way you let the lace dip underneath the slit with the extra press of fingers, toying with the soaking walls and fighting the urge to tug the strings the more you repeat the same fucking routine–

“Baby,” she croons, it’s pathetic. You’re about to get worked up too if you play the waiting game, dragging your thumb across her clit so delicately that she’s quivering, squirming, feeling the tense in her shoulders through the button up, hanging onto your forearm when the hold gets a little too tight. Those breathy gasps get your mind ahead to what’s coming, the natural instinct of what you’ll do to her in her office, on top of her desk, and maybe even on that stupid velvet couch if need be. 

You can hear the huffs more clearly down your ear, the rise and fall of her upper body when you coax her for a few seconds; she’s spiraling out of control, a whine gets suppressed with a press of lips to her throat, and she stumbles back on her arm, spreading wider in mirth. 

She’s shaking her head, eyes screwed shut, like wincing, the whine too - holy hell - it’s reminding you after that night at the bar with her, a moment coming full circle. 

A hand sweeps through her hair, fingers carding, you kiss that sweet spot just underneath her earlobe, a lick from the tip of your tongue to get her more fitful, bring the desperation and sluttiness out of her lips. 

“Do you have- “ she’s sputtering out the letters and consonants, intertwined with hitches and moans, “any idea of what you do?” Minju can’t stay composed while the nips at her jaw and neck close the distance between her mouth–

“Haven’t had the slightest.” you whisper, hiking up the last bit of her skirt to see the new piece to untangle, “God, Minju- lacy stockings? Really?” 

The laugh she lets out should set you off in annoyance, almost like a border that’s meant to be there and never to be touched - let alone cross, fingers clasped around the nape of your neck to keep you trapped while she smiles to the small victory, “You sound surprised. I always come to work with these pairs from time to time, but you don’t leer when I want you to.” 

Her eyes flutter shut once again when you tend to her pulse point, mouth gaping open when you’re doing two things at once: soothing the warmth on her neck while your fingers work teasing her clit and walls, a punishment of sorts when she’s reeling back onto the desk with a slipping hand, her other limp gripping your forearm to not stop - but keep going. 

“How long–” Minju asks while she’s practically sliding off of the polished bark, “have you waited to do this…to me?” Strands of hair falling forward ever-so slightly in front of her forehead, hand tangled to the back of your head while your ear is pressing against the hard line of her collarbone. You don’t pay any attention to her subjective inquiry, replacing it with another strand of moans leaving her lips when you skate her ass across the table again, the bottoms of her thighs meeting yours, melting a bit more when her core rubs against the emerging bulge from between your legs. 

She knows what she’s doing, it’s a trade off of pushing buttons. Trying to get you to lose all the sensible urges just to give her what she exactly wants. 

You let your hands map out the case: her hips, the flat plane of her waist, where the peak of her hips meet at the hint of her obliques, only for your digits to spread out behind on the curve of her ass, feeling the lacy panties that might go against dress code policy because of how too fucking thin they were. Minju grins against your mouth, the exchange of hot air serving to be this addicting oxygen that you can’t get enough of. “Who knows how long I’ve wanted to have a crack at you. I just put myself off to the side because I knew that I’d never stand a chance.” 

She laughs, and you hate to admit how much you like it. The image of her being disheveled in front of you, just inches away from the fingertips; legs spread out wide on her own desk, waiting to be ruined. 

“What’s going through your head right now?” Minju asks, tossing her arm on the lower section of your waist, seizing you while failing to meet her glazed eyes. “Have you…fantasized about me? Tell me all about it. I’m intrigued. Want to know what gets you off after work.” 

And there it goes again: the banter. She’s always quick for a couple liners, sayings and slang that you’ve shared with her day in day out. Minju isn’t the kind of person to greet you with a ‘good morning’ or ‘want to get a quick drink or bite from the cafe downstairs?’ - but rather: right down to the dirty business of what she needs you to do in the long, extensive hours of the workday, dealing with clients, putting up with her and Hyewon’s bullshit, getting the necessary paperworks, and having some random beef with Yena in the break room. Minju is always quick to give you insight on what needs to happen, you also supply your own opinions and takes where Minju does accept some of them (most of the time). 

Except for this, when her cropped blazer is barely hanging off the shoulders, skirt hiked up past the peak of her thighs, displaying that wet spot in between her unbelievable legs, pulling you by the tie because she doesn’t have time for you to fucking daydream saying: “C’mon, pretty boy. You’re basically drooling in front of me and we haven’t even got to the fun parts yet–” 

She stops short when you lay the rough palm of your hand against her pussy, hushing through the cuff of her ear, grip tightening and muscles tensing in her body as if something snapped within you - which it did for a slight second - before you draw yourself back, finally looking her in the brown ambers of her eyes. 

“I had a dream once,” you finally built up the courage to start, “about being here, in your office.” landing a kiss to the corner of her lip to keep yourself focused. On a night just like this, where you’re sitting nicely on top of your desk. Your legs were spread apart like so. Minju coos when she sees you lightly licking your lips. It would’ve been better if you were already out of your clothes, naked for me. Her head dips forward when she feels the languid circles rubbed across her clit, I fucked you right here, on this desk. And then, I ruined that pretty little couch that you love so much apparently. 

“God, you’re insane.” She’s acting innocently like she too hasn’t been teasing you out and around the workplace before this. 

Insane? It becomes a little bit more deranged where Minju’s jaw drops to the floor when she hears the sinful sound of her lacy panties being ripped away from her hips. 

“Oh, I could do a lot more for you right now, and believe me, I will.” You assess the drainage when your finger plunges into her cunt; the sharp inhale she takes in while saying ‘shit’ is only brief when you’re thrown off by her walls tightening around you, her hands working the buckle of your belt and slithering past the pants. 

“And how do you suppose you’ll keep your word?” she asks, fingers coiling your cock, the reaction easily readable judging from the loss of breath through your windpipe.

“Consider this as wet work.” 

“Wet work?” 

This attractive woman who’s posture could rival classy models, with those perfect lips in both sets, the image now being unraveled like an item being auctioned off to the highest bidder: how her legs open enough for you to fill the space, the way her bra sits across her chest once the blazer is finally discarded onto the floor. (She’s pretty now, she’ll be even prettier when you have your way over her, helplessly letting these soft sounds out, coming undone over or underneath, it won’t matter either way, because that’s always the endgame.) 

“You’ve got your skirt on still,” you observe, pulling her closer to the edge of the slab, “I don’t know if-” 

“Ignoring the double entendre you made?” she gasps, struggling to keep composure when the ends of your fingers, tightening her grip around your cock while the other arm is thrown around your shoulder, “just-please-like that-fuck-oh fuck-” 

Minju sort of hides away from the immense pressure in her cunt and her clit, seeing the usual features on her face show a little more crease to them, slacking with her words, lost, feeling every bit of you, huffs of poor syllables and consonants, octaves going up in keys. You’re loving how needy she’s getting. 

What’s the matter? You whisper against her chin. You don’t seem too well. Body burning up? Too hot for you to handle? She’s gone too far off to answer, only by huffs and light nods of her head, the flex in her knees, hands across your broad back, working herself around your fingers, groaning when it gets all too much. 

The idea of staying at the firm for the night doesn’t seem that bad of an idea to do. 

“Fingers, babe,” she whines, rasping in moans at the ends of them, “fingers are too fucking good, want it- so bad-give me a–fuck-” 

Her eyes are screwed shut, clinging onto your body desperately while she starts to work the buttons off your shirt; starting in the middle rather than the top or bottom because she can’t think straight. But she diverts her hands instead to the loops on your sides, wiggling you out of your pants more - keeping herself moving while trying to ignore the throbbing that’s happening between her legs. 

“Tell me what you need, boss,” you say, a little tinge of sincerity behind the professional title. “Maybe put some solidity to this little affair?” 

Minju gives you this glare, scattered ends of her hair covering the little blush that’s all too apparent across her cheeks, failing fantastically the way she lets out this wail when your two fingers fill up her cunt completely, pulling her over the edge of the desk one last time as you mesh your hips right in the underside of her thighs, body leaning back with the arch bending a whole lot deeper, head back while you lean yourself forward that tips over a few trinkets across the desk; some picture frames fall face flat, that one pendulum set you’d always mess around with in the morning briefings nicks around in disarray, and her nameplate kinda just gets hit in the crossfire by Minju’s stray hand and onto the floor. 

“Call this,” she sputters, gasping, heaving most likely, “a hot and steamy affair.” 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you retort, “don’t get smart with me now.” 

She just looks at you with that same sly smirk she’s been wearing whenever she teases you about anything. You find it annoying at times because of how effortless she does it, this time her breaking smile doesn’t match up with her eyes and how they are dead, sincere with a desire waiting to be fulfilled, a craving that’s been long overdue simply because you know that Minju is not an easy person to break down, though that’s been proven to be the complete opposite now. 

There’s this priming for a second, your own hand wrapped around your cock, getting close, until you nudge yourself from the first few inches inside her cunt, feeling the small press to push more, replaced with the easy glide inside the compact, yet addicting heat. It’s also kinda cute how you and Minju share this quick inhale - a hiss would be better to describe it - then you see her blown out irises, that sly smile getting more lazier, lost completely when you drag the half of your length out, slowly, steadily. 

“Wait, fuck-” she mumbles out, laying flat across the top. Her chest rises and falls a little more erratically, eyelids fluttering shut when you sink back right in, deeper this time, delicately, a little tease with the pullout before feeling her out completely. You learn for the first time ever since stepping inside that one room that day for the interview: that small thought of how it would be so easy to slot yourself right into Minju would be nothing but a pipe dream, becomes too real to relish in the feeling now. 

Then she mumbles again: “holy fucking shit.” 

You give one good snap of the hips for good measure, and the ripple effect of Minju’s body sliding across the desk, the wiggle in her perfect tits, her hands hold fast to yours around her thighs as if she’ll do the fucking all by herself while you just stand there in awe. 

But you’re good as fucked if you weren’t already, so you snap your hips back into her again, harder. Then again, filling up her perfect cunt each and every time you bottom out. You’ll take this image to your grave, let this be the last piece of evidence submitted to the judge who’ll sentence you do a much safer place in hell: MInju’s pretty body, with stockings around her perfect legs, tits sliding across her chest in every stroke, cock disappearing inside her cunt as her pretty lips fit around them with ease. 

“Minju, I - God,”, you try to tell her, the promise buried in your throat, buried underneath the air that flows right above the words, as your hips meet hers, the audible smack of her thighs filling up the office, how amazing she’s massaging your length well deep inside her, all slicked up and smooth for you to keep going. “I’ve been waiting for this- dreaming how to get you all stretched with this tight pussy. Your cunt, baby. Minju–” 

“You’ve shown me why - why I chose you, out of everyone else - show me again how good you can-” she breathes. When her mouth trails off again, because of the strokes, the clench in her pussy, hands clinging onto your wrists as you cast your own hands onto her waist. 

Eventually, nothing sounds better than the noises she makes against your collarbone, angling deeper where - you find out on the fly, and maybe something to keep in mind for later. It’s all coaxed out when you’re working her to the wall, holding her carefully while she can just keep herself stretched out, working all of the bundle of nerves across the spots inside her cunt. 

“More, honey,” and the pet names just seem to escalate as they come, do they? She sets herself up on a wobbly elbow, seeing the flex of muscle across your arms and stomach each time you rip into her, fucking her with a steady pace, but teetering on the subtle rawness, that hidden potential that sets yourself apart from the other talents you have working as one of the top employees. “Love it when you- fuck me to pieces.” 

"Anything else you want to say to me?"

“What’s also nice is that,” she continues to ramble (another thing that you’ve heard make rounds through the wings), dizziness shown in her eyes, the continuous clapping of her pulsing cunt, tightening around you, molding her into the perfect shape of - “how you continue to surprise everyone here, including me-” 

A string of curses spill out your mouth, Minju can’t help with the mix of laughs and moans at how good you feel inside her, the sight of your cock vanishing between her legs, putting one past the degree where her knee nearly touches her clothed tit, and that gets her wincing for a quick second. You’ll probably put this in a mental file, how you’ll get her to molten cunt more creaming until she cums, cums, cums and cums-

“-you’re like me, but only as a handsome guy who continues to impress-” 

Anything else that comes out of her mouth in lieu of praise will only feed that ego in your mind to get one over her, to say that you’ll always be two steps behind her while she’s five ahead. She doesn’t let you off easily, so why would you do the opposite for her? Rocking your hips towards hers makes the legs of the desk mirror the motion of your tempo, thumbs pressed up against the mold of her ribs just underneath her breasts, deep into the skin where you could also bend the bones beneath them while they rebound off of the smacks. 

You’ve got your hand over her mouth, to shut her up, eyes squinted tight to where her brows could meet in the middle, grasping onto your wrist while the muffles of your name reach higher in octaves, sobbing in her moans while she’s suffocating against the roughness of your palm.

She can’t keep focus for any moment longer, eliciting shorter gasps when you tease by slapping your cock head on the nub of her clit, gritting her teeth at the shameless tease you’re giving. 

“Can-” it’s a little sweltering to notice that she’s reduced to helpless one word blurbs, slipping inside of her once again to make her chest freeze off of the flares in her waist. “harder- i need you to-” 

The shiver that erupts through your fibers sends you in limbo, feeling Minju’s ankle anchor behind your back, serving as the reins when you stutter in pace, ass hanging off of the desk to completely bottom her out, and your cock is constantly getting soaked with a new layer of her slick each time you pull back. 

That low groan she lets out meshed with the word ‘fuck’ undermines her whole persona. Once known for being straightforward with her words, now lurching you in to keep pounding into her, slaps bouncing off the windows when she tries to perch her head upwards to see the damage, but slowly losing tension in her neck, deprived of focus when she lolls her head back to the original spot, sucking in air, sobbing even more loudly. 

“Please, like that, keep doing that, I’ll let you anything to me, just–” You could see her lip wobble a bit slightly, cunt shaped to every minute detail of your cock, “i’m so- so fucking close, you fuck me so good- so well–” 

“So tight,” you say, deep of that desired well. Minju is past the point of where the obscene words and demands can’t even be verbally said anymore. She’s whimpering, lazy wrist over her mouth again, the little strands in her hair bouncing along as one of the ripple effects caused by your length. “Gonna have you aching for me long after-” 

It’s all royally fucked. 

The way that she, oh- 

How she clamps well around you, the new coat of her arousal soaking your crotch. When you’ve edged her out past the bar and how her whole body spasms in strain and ease, she’s clutching for something within arms reach - your hands and fingers, or anything that she can grasp - while these sinful sounds unravel her from her vocal cords. Her eyes look like they can’t open at all; with the small stream of stray tears falling from her cheek. You’re also crinkling your own features, jaw hung low with the bellowing moan leaving your mouth along with hers. 

You could easily get lost in the reveling of Minju cumming over your cock, but you’re not seeing this through to the end not just yet. 

In one swift motion, you flip her over, hook her waist, pull this one party trick of stripping her bra away from her chest, pushing her back down to which she giggles slightly. “Here.” you tell her, mouth well above the lobe of her ear, hanging her ass off the desk again. “I’m just getting started.” 

Minju puts this lazy smile on her face, eyelids still closed, using whatever energy left that you haven’t dicked out of her to catch her breath, sliding her palms across the desk downwards to set herself in place. “God,” she says this as a revelation, “you are so fucking good.” 

A low chuckle is all she hears while you pull her back up against your stomach, twisting her head up to your lips, pressing them to her cheek, while she traps her bottom lip between her teeth. 

You say this as a serving rebuttal: “I’m better than good.” 

Minju can be selfish at times, always willing to put her own personal interests over yours or anyone else’s (most of the time). But when you’ve broken her down to this: knees apart, your back flush with hers on her favorite couch, pushing well past the limit, driving your cockhead down the deepest depth to where you could get it, cupping the crease where her leg and hip meet, clasping with the pads of your fingers, dragging and impaling her what could be a punishment for her - or a reward to the limitless amounts of things that she wants and receives on almost every occasion. She’s the kind of woman to play the long game, hard to get, make someone like you grind your way in order to rail her in the most intense-rough fuck that she loves (but won’t admit), or the excruciating delay of feeling every nerve binded inside her walls, where the veins of your length just graze slightly enough to feel the tense in her muscles, her hands; going limp while lazily whining at the slide of your dick inside her cunt, playing with her while she’s whimpering at you to finish the job. 

“God fucking dammit,” she manages, laying herself flat while you’re hovering right on top of her, taking your cock while she can only grip the seat covers. It’s all there, bare back and ass, the set of stockings still on her majestic thighs. You’re hitting her hips hard and heavy, the stable and slow strokes while she fills your ears with these strings of babbles that aren’t really conceivable to decipher or understand. She got a little to excited, bouncing her ass back against your cock while you just drop your arms and admired the show, before pushing deep with your balls nicking the clit at the end of every thrust, and that earns you these thick gasps, only taking you whole with every slam of your weight against her nimble body. “God, I- fuck- need you all the time, please.” 

“Whatever you want,” you hush against the crook of her neck. That is something that you’ll take to heart under oath. She croons at how you're spilling all of these filthy things in her ear, a guarantee of sorts to the promises that have already bent the both of your minds into obliviion. "If it helps to stop you from fucking those other scumbags you call 'your clients' on a weekend basis, then I'll give it to you, sweetheart."

The self-control went off the rails a while ago, this was just free real estate with the endless cantations of moans coming out of her. "Need me to cum inside this sopping cunt so badly?" you ask, pulling a handful of hair that lifts her by the neck, "love using this pussy to get myself off."

She's giggling at the action because it's necessary. You could imagine the grin on her face for the entire world to see. "Words baby, or I'll cum-"

“Fuck- just, do anything- I want you.” Minju gasps with a whine tinged behind the words. It’ll be in the records, spoken into existence. She could care more less than a fuck of what others think after all of this is over. Pace slowing down, feeling that throb tremor against her walls when you’ve held out for this long, an overdue reward in itself. 

It just took one more good hit to bury your cock into that perfect pussy, spilling everything, sending it deeper in the trenches of her cunt, fucking yourself in while she’s putting some effort to say your name, only for it to be overpowered by the gluttal moans you’re letting out while the shackles of tension finally come loose. Her head is pressed enough to leave a visible print on the cushions, crying before the shudder translates to her noises when you drive all the way in for one final time, letting the pulse die out; every heartbeat, every drop. 

Your nose is pressed into the side of her head, taking in that sweet scent from her hair, showered in bliss, tangling and untangling until she takes rest in your arms, straddling your lap, chin forming alongside the small dip in your collarbone. 

Minju offers this lazy smile, matching your rise and fall of breaths in your chest, blowing this hint of cool air to your neck that makes you twitch slightly from the sudden sensation, lips against the line of your throat: 

“A hot and steamy affair, huh? I think I can let that pass by.” 

“You really want to call it that?” you inquire, hands sliding down to the plush of her ass. 

Minju simply laughs while you shake your head at the rhetorical question. “All honesty though, I thought that you and-” 

“We are not going there.” you tell her, leaning back when she sets herself straight in your arms, hands along broad shoulders with the curtain of her hair falling towards one side. Definitely something that you’ve had in a wet dream before - talk about having deja vu. “Absolutely not.” 

It’s when she trails her fingertip across the chiseled form of muscle across your chest, elevating her hand higher to cup your face. She gives you this look in her eyes, the kind that would make anyone keel over because as you’re reminded: Minju is someone who always gets what she wants. And when she rubs her thumb across your cheek, your cock jumps a few millimeters underneath her hips to which she notices, and seizes the opportunity presented to her. 

Leaning forward with a purring whisper in the act, and you’re suspended in time while she moves. “I think I should repay you for treating me right just now.” 

Minju has never owed anything to you. For the most part in your career, it was her that has given you these chances to make a name for yourself, to prove that you could go toe to toe with the best in the court, to prove to her why she chose you out of countless others to be her associate. If anything, you owe pretty much everything to her. 

But maybe-

Maybe just this once-

“My little pretty boy needs to have his cock all cared for, right?” she asks when she sinks down to the edge of the disgraced couch, spreads your knees apart, eyes trained on you, lowering her head to swipe her tongue across your balls and the base of your shaft, feeling that same twitch in your cock when she gets a dainty hand across the length, well trained with the languid strokes that she’s giving you; it’s not hard to give in to that searing heat of her mouth while you’re trying to find the right words to respond. 

(The options here are very limited: considering the fact that you have your hips forward with your friend / partner / new love interest slobbering all over your length, rubbing the head of your cock across her pretty face until she drains you out completely, painting her cheek white and bathing in the taste of your cum while you’re struggling to stay awake. 

After all, you could just spend the night here at the firm bearing in mind how late it is. 

Or better yet, have Minju stay at your place to not give Dahyun another headache to deal with the next morning.) 

[timdrakesmissingnotebook]

Scolds and Red Tulips

summary: damian wayne doesn't think he ever had a crush until, of course, you scold him for the first time.

pairing: damian wayne x reader

notes: okay so, maybe i liked writing these type of fics, they are fun!

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Damian doesn't notice at first.

He didn't notice how he started looking out for you on that crowd of students, or how he began to find new topics to discuss with you.

He never notice how he would steal glances at you, or how sweety his palms felt when you were around.

He didn't notice until after he almost beat a boy up because he was trying to get your biology project topic.

God, he was so stupid.

"He started it, (y/l)." He mutters, looking down at his shoes.

You sigh and put a hand over your forehead, "I know. But you could've talked to Ms. Halle, Damian."

"I fight my own battles." He spits, raising his chin, "I do not need the help of a teacher."

"You were going to punch him because he got our subject." You deadpan, rolling your eyes. Putting an accusing finger on his chest, you say angrily, "I'm gonna go solve this. You stay here."

Damian watches as you turn around and stalks towards the classroom again and feels his face flush a deep scarlet red, and not because he was angry.

And just like that, Damian Wayne realized he was head over heels for you.

_______________________II_______________________

"Richard, Cassandra, I request your help. Now." Damian says, grabbing both of his siblings arms and fleeting to his room, ignoring the weird glance his father gave them.

"Hey, what is going on, Little D?" Dick asks, receiving a nod from Cassandra when the three entered the youngest room.

Damian just shoves both inside, quickly locking the door behind them. The boy just stands there for a minute, a hand on the round hand as he tries to calm his rapid breathing.

"Baby brother?" He hears his older sister calls out and suddenly he turns around to face both.

"I have been... Compromised."

"What?" Dick inquires, stepping closer to him, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Of course I am not!" The younger groans, "I don't even know how it happened!"

Cassandra tilts her head and scans him from head to toe, "What happened?"

"I almost punched someone-" Damian starts, ignoring Dick frown, "I was just trying to help and then she- she started telling me off! And my face started to burn and my heart started to beat faster and- I'm so stupid, how didn't I notice it before?"

"You have a crush." Cassandra states, crossing her arms.

"I do not have a crush!" Damian stomps, feeling his face flush again. He turns his eyes to his feet, then to his siblings, "I don't do I?'

Dick stares at him for a few moments and a gentle smile creeps onto his lips, "You do."

Damian freezes, his heart skipping a beat.

This can't be happening. No. Fucking. Way.

"Are you gonna do anything about it?" His sister asks and he finds himself without an answer.

"I don't know. Should I?" Damian replies and frowns, "I don't- I don't even know if she interested on me."

"I think you should." Dick nods again, "How will you know if you don't even try."

Cassie hums in agreement and brings a hand to ruffle the boy's curls, "Do something. I feel like you will have a surprise."

Damian glances between two and feels himself nod, a determined expression painted creeping on his face, "Yeah, okay. I need to go search for a flower shop."

_______________________II_______________________

Damian felt his hands start to tremble as he spotted you at the end of the hallway.

The, rather comically, large bouquet of red tulips feels suddenly heavy on his hands.

Closing his eyes, Damian breaths heavily and mutters to himself, "Okay, okay, I can do this."

He walks towards you with quick steps, taps your shoulder lightly and when you turn around he shoves the bouquet on your face.

Looking at the bouquet and then back up at him, you ask puzzled, "Um, hi."

"Hey." He replies, still looking down.

"What is, um, this?"

"For you." He frowns and finally looks up at you, "You don't like them?"

"I- I do." You say, a small smile creeping on your face as you gently grab the flowers. Bring them towards your nose, "They smell amazing, thank you."

Damian glances up at you, a blush covering his cheeks, "You're welcome."

"So, is something going on?" You ask, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Not that I don't like them, I just- This is kinda random."

"I... came to a realization yesterday." He breaths out.

"And that is.." You prompt him to continue.

"I like you, (y/n)." He says, looking down again, "And I've been liking you for a very long time. You are sweet, and smart, and kind, and, with all due respect, the most beautiful person I have ever met, so, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm totally enchanted by you."

You stare at him, a blush rapidly creeping onto your face and the grip on the bouquet a tad harder, "Oh."

Damian sighs and meets your eyes again, "(y/n) (y/l), do you want to go on a date with me?"

You two stare at each other, both faces crimson red. You look down and let out a soft chuckle fall from your lips. Looking up again, you nod your head, "I'd love to go on a date with you."

Damian shoulders fall from relief and he smiles, "Perfect."

"Perfect." You repeat, and tilt your head again, "And just for the record, I like you too."

Damian comes home that afternoon with a smile on his face and if he saw Richard and Cassandra giving each other a fist bump, he doesn't say anything.

[latenightdaydreams]

Priest!König x Nun!Reader (Fem)

This is my first time writing and posting! i hope you enjoy!

Part2, Part3

MDNI🔞

For more: Master list

>CW: MDNI, fem/afab reader, religion, cnc, whipping, breath play, oral

.

.

.

.

“Our father,“

*Whip*

“Who art in heaven,”

*Whip*

“Hallowed be thy name.” Your voice trembling as you resight the Lord’s prayer naked and kneeling at the churches alter, your bare knees digging into the hard wood floor beneath you. This being the fifth time you’ve said this prayer, your body began to tremble from the cold.

The whip came down again this time across your breast, hitting your sensitive hardened nipples,

“Keep going, I didn’t tell you to stop.” Father König’s voice thick with an Austrian accent and stern.

“Thy kingdom come,”

*whip*

“Thy will be done” The whip comes down hard on your already sore and bleeding rear. You take a sharp inhale. When you’re about to continue your prayers, Father König comes up behind you and pulls on your hair through your habit.

“You’re taking too many breaks-“ he says in an angry and cold tone as he holds your head in place with one hand. With the other he reached under his robes to fish his hardened cock out. You see his fat cock with a leaky pink tip, your eyes go up to meet his behind a mask that hides his whole face. His icy blue eyes look down at you with disappointment.

“Open,” he says in a demanding voice, one that you know to listen to without hesitation. You open your mouth as wide as you can for him as he guides your mouth on to his arousal. You close your eyes as the warm skin presses against your lips.

Your soft lips wrapping around his desperate cock and lightly sucking on the head. Instantly you can taste the bitter tang of precum on your tongue.

“Look at me,” Father König says with a slight groan in his voice.

Your eyes go up to meet his as he slowly begins to push your head lower on to his cock. You begin to gag and instinctively place your hands on his thighs to push away.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls as you slowly move your hands away.

Tears beginning to build up in your eyes as he pushes your head lower. You gag again causing tears to begin to roll down your face. You look into his eyes begging him to be merciful on you and relax his hold but he doesn’t, he only pushes you down more until your nose is buried in a soft patch of blonde hair.  You gag and your hands go to his legs and being to push back, but it’s no use.

He holds your there, smacking the side of your face with his large calloused hands. Your delicate skin stings and more tears flow down. The feeling of his massive cock filling your mouth and lingering in your throat made it hard to breathe.

You began tap on his thighs hoping he would see that you can’t breathe only to be met with his fingers now pinching your nose shut. “You can fucking take it, just a little more…” His voice laced with pleasure.

You continue to struggle in a panic knowing you’re defenseless against the 6’10 retired military priest. Tears following from your eyes as spit begins to bubble out of the corner of your mouth.

“If I let you breathe, will you be a good girl?”

“Mmmm!” You mumble while nodding your head. Your eyebrows pinched together pleading with him.

Eventually he lets go of your nose and hair and you pull back from his length, coughing and spitting up thick globs of phlegm. You gasp for air, taking in deep rapid breaths as you fall forward on your hands.

“That’s your last warning, next time I won’t be so nice,” he bends down to your eye level and looks at your teary face, “Now continue.”

Part2, Part3

[sturnioloshacker]

turning tables - a vinnie hacker short

a/n: requested by @tcvazq; lowercase intended

cw: swearing, jealous vinnie, vinnie being a dickhead, angry sex, unprotected sex, slight handjob, pussy eating, dirty talk, creampie, fluffy aftercare. this an nfsw short, everything written is fictional. interact or don’t, i’m not your mother

summary: trying to fuck the attitude out of an angry vinnie fails to work when he decides it’s better to fuck you dumb

“what the fuck was that guy’s problem?!”

“vin, it’s not that big of a deal! he was just being nice!”

“he was flirting with you! did you not see him staring at your lips? he wanted to kiss you!” 

“okay, now you’re being stupid. he was a nice boy who just wanted to chat.”

“god, you’re so fucking thick-headed!”

“excuse me? i’m thick-headed? okay, that’s fine.”

i storm off, unable to take any more of his attitude. i slam the door to our bedroom and into the bathroom, where i feel the tears spill from my eyes and down my cheeks. the house is silent, dead silent. like you could hear a pin drop it was that quiet. i break that silence by turning the tap on to wash my face. as i dry my face with a towel, i feel a pair of hands harshly grab my waistband of my shorts to rip them off. 

“vinnie what the fuck?! no! you don’t deserve this! if anything, i should fuck your nasty attitude out of you!”

“oh yeah? prove it then,” vinnie spat.

i push him out of the bathroom and shove him onto the bed with everything that i have. i spit on his cock and jerk him off super fast. hearing slight groans from his lips, i speed up my actions, my wrist feeling like it’s on fire from the rapid pace of me jerking him off. i feel my movements getting tired and sloppy, my wrist burning from trying to prove him that i can fuck his attitude out of him.

“give up princess?” he says, all cocky and confident in himself

“no. shut up.”

fucking dickhead. i straddle his waist and align myself over his cock. i sink down onto his cock, letting myself go all the way down until i reach the base as his tip hits my cervix. i moan at the way his cock stretches me out and the way it feels so deep and so full inside me. i start bouncing up and down really fast, trying to fuck the attitude of his him but once again, i’m met with light groans. twat. i’m growing tired of this, i give up.

“tired princess? you give up now?”

i shoot him the middle finger before i’m flipped over and thrown onto my back, legs spread and pussy out in the open air. 

“how about i fuck you dumb, maybe my attitude will go away.”

vinnie dips his head down and starts devouring me like an animal. licking, biting and sucking my clit and folds, the pleasure is too much. it feels so good, i hate it. but i love it too damn much. asshole. cute asshole. i hate him. oh fuck i love him, he’s unreal. i feel myself cumming all over his face, i wasn’t even ready to announce it yet! he wipes his mouth clean and begins jerking himself off. what a cocky bastard! he shoves his cock inside me, giving me no time to adjust as he pounds me into oblivion. 

i can’t help but moan, whine and cry out at the intense pleasure of it all. the way his cock glides through my wetness, the way his veins hit all the right spots and the way his tip hits my cervix, god it feels fucking amazing. i’m so close, i can feel my walls clench around vinnie’s cock, ready to explode all over him. 

“vinnie, i’m gonna cum, oh fuck right there don’t st- ah!”

i cum around vinnie’s cock, my juices coating him all the down to the base and down to his balls. Vinnie cums not long after, his warm load spurting inside me as it paints my walls white. he pulls out and helps me clean myself up. he sits me down on the toilet so i can do my business before helping me wash my hands, put my pyjamas on and tucking me into bed. he plays with my hair before we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

the next morning, i wake up, my head pounding and legs shaking. i think back to last night’s events and now i understand why. i go to get up out of bed but crawl back in because i can’t move. it hurts to walk. vinnie walks back in from the bathroom, smile on his face. 

“morning, princess. how’d you sleep?”

“fine. you hurt me.”

“what do you mean?”

“i can’t walk, idiot!”

“oh. sorry.”

“i guess i should apologise. i didn’t mean to make you angry. the poor guy wanted to talk.”

“no, i should apologise. i just got jealous seeing you talk to a guy that’s not me. sometimes i get scared that you’ll leave me for someone else.”

“vincent, no! i would never do that. don’t be silly! you’re mine and i’m yours.”

“good, cause now i want cuddles.”

“come here, you big goof!” i giggle, stretching my arms out for the boy in front of me.

we spend the rest of the morning cuddling, kissing and making up after last night. I think we both learnt our lessons. vinnie’s lesson being that he doesn’t have to be so jealous anymore as my eyes are on him and him only, and my lesson being don’t try and fuck the attitude out of my boyfriend as i’ll just get fucked dumb to the point where i can’t move a muscle downstairs. 

[specialagentlokitty]

Damon x reader - know you

I just got cheated on so could you possibly write a cute fluffy Damon story where the reader has anxiety or something :) - Anon💜

Damon knew your tells and signs for when your anxiety was getting bad.

He picked up on them when he first met you, while his brother was obsessed with your best friend you were different, quieter, you didn’t talk much unless you were spoken to.

One evening he noticed one even while everyone was at the his talking and enjoying a relaxing night that you started to slowly tap you leg.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” Damon asked you.

He placed his hand on your shoulder and you nodded, getting up to follow him.

The others didn’t seem to notice the pair of you slipped out of the room and Damon waited for you in the hallway with his arms crossed.

“What’s Uhm.. what’s up..?” You asked softly.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you.” He said.

Standing this close to you, he could clearly hear the rapid thumping of your heart, the way you were breathing a little quicker than normal.

“Huh? Oh nothing.”

Damon sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked around before taking your hand in his and leading you alway.

Damon took you up to his room and closed the door, letting you sit on the bed and he rummaged through his clothes and pulled out a sweater, handing it over to you.

You pulled it on and he crouched on front of you, resting his arms on your legs.

“Come on, talk to me? Is it your anxiety?”

You sighed and nodded your head.

“It.. it’s stupid.. I’ve been taking my meds.. I’ve been fine for weeks…” you mumbled.

Damon got up, sitting behind you he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulling you in against his chest.

He took a deep breath, and you did the same.

“It’s okay to have hard days, we can’t be fine forever darling, you know that.”

You sighed and shrugged.

“I just… I hate it so much Damon…”

Damon rested his chin on your shoulder and you titled your head to rest it on his.

“We’ll get you through this don’t you worry.”

Damon laid down and pulled you down with him, holding you tightly against him.

“Can we just stay here..?” You asked softly.

“Whatever you want.” He said.

You flipped yourself over, balling your hands into the fabric of his shirt while you lightly bounced your leg up and down.

Damon debating stopping but, but decided not to, knowing it was something that helped you.

Instead he pressed a kiss to your forehead and tucked your head under his chin as he held you.

He knew your preferred silence when you were trying to calm yourself down, you didn’t want to think about anything.

He just happily laid there with you in his arms, eyes closed as he listened to the sound of your heartbeat and how calm it sounded.

Eventually with the silence and the exhaustion from pretending to be okay around the others and the meds that were supposed to help and from being an the verge of a panic attack.

He just carried on holding you, face buried into the crook of your neck falling asleep with you in his arms.

You woke up before Damon it was still night, and the room was dark but you could still feel Damon’s arms wrapped tightly around you and you smiled.

Nuzzling into him a little more, you leg out a soft sigh and yawned a little stretching out before getting comfortable again and drifting back to sleep.

Damon was like a calm space for you, he was the person who you felt calm around.

For a vampire who was always so energetic or angry, when he was around you all of that went away, he stayed calm to keep you calm and you knew it was hard for him something.

You couldn’t be more thankful for him

[darlingsaturn]

Price’s Hot Spouse

Alex truly do look similar to Price.

Warning : dubcon, afab, unprotected sex, & implied cuckold.

Note : Part 2? +I EDITED IT! Sorry, i forgot what the nb word for Mr/Mrs while writing this😭

If anyone say that Alex is his son, i would’ve believe them. No question whatsoever.

But imagine this: reader is Price’s spouse who’s close with his colleagues and team. The TF members likes to come over, along with his trusted allies for a peaceful dinner at his house.

One night while the rest of the team were drinking away and sharing story, his spouse goes upstairs to rest for the night.

Since it’s already night time, you didn’t bother using the big light, only using the one on the nightstand. You were just finished showering and was about to slip on your night garment but felt a pair of hands hugging you from behind.

Based on the size of the hands and the similar body shape, you just assume it’s your husband and let him cope a feel.

“Don’t be too rough, love.” You warned him while holding back a moan from his hands that are massaging your breast.

Impatiently, he put on a blindfold over your eyes and you were a bit confused. John always says that he wants you to always look at him while making love. He said it turn him on when he see how hard you’re trying to keep your eyes on him with every thrust.

But at the same time, John is always the adventurous one, always suggesting new ways to spice up their love making. So, you figure it’s one of those nights.

You let him take the lead as he man handle you as he pleases. His move is a bit sloppy and clumsy, like he’s testing the water, but he is still gentle, something that your husband pride himself when it comes to you.

“Don’t tease me, John...” you groan impatiently. You felt him kissing you and stripping your towel in one harsh movement before putting your back on the mattress.

When your head meets the pillow, you hear rustling of clothes, meaning he is stripping down. Then his hand immediately latch onto your skin, as if he’ll die without skin contact.

You felt his cock twitching on your thigh with every noise that you let out. His fingers comfortably playing with your clit. Trying to open you up and prep you, but mostly because of his own needs.

After making you cum once with his fingers, he need to taste you. NEED IT. So he held your legs apart as he eat your pussy like a starve man. The sensitivity of just cumming and the warm feeling of his mouth just made you shudder in pleasure as you cum one more time, now on his mouth.

“Good girl.” He praised you as he lick your juice from his lips. His voice is different from your husband but you were too far gone to notice. You’re enjoying it, he can tell.

“‘M gonna take care of ya.” He murmur as he line his dick. Slowly he push his dick in and kissing your collarbone while waiting for your signal to move.

In your dazed mind, you do felt the difference of penis. For one, your husband’s dick is larger, fat, and veiny. Like an angry bull when it’s fully erect. But this man’s dick is leaning into large in length instead of width, although it’s still veiny.

“‘m wanna move...” he whined on your shoulder. Your thought doesn’t go very far since his dick keep twitching inside your walls. He can’t help it! It’s too warm, too comfortable, but also tight. He wanna feel more!

On instinct, you tap his shoulder twice, a code that only your husband knows, that means you’re ready.

It seems the man also knew this code and he start moving in and out of you cunt. Is he your husband then? You can’t think properly like this!

“Mmfh! S-slow down!” You moaned out. Instead of slowing down, he just goes even more feral. “Feels so good...! I’m sorry, i can’t slow down! I’ll make it up to you. I promise!” He stutter out his sentences as his move began going rapid but still on rhythm.

“Jo-“ His mouth catch yours, just as you were about to moan your husband’s name. His kiss is filled with needy lust and happiness. As if he’s been waiting for this for a long time.

You grab his arm and direct him to touch your clit since you want to cum too. And he immediately picks up on it as he begin teasing your clit while still moving his hips and kissing your lips.

His movement began going sloppy when he felt you clamping down on him. “F-fuck!” He moan into your mouth. “Wanna cum...” you whined.

He kiss your cheeks and lick the tears that escape the blindfold from your cheeks. “‘m gonna fill ya, yeah?” He mumbled.

You nods, waiting for the permission to release while your hands are on his shoulders, trying to find stability. Although he quickly reposition the two of you in a mating press, your hand are now on either side of your head as you held onto the sheets and legs are thrown onto his shoulders.

His movement goes bold but still sloppy before he squeezed your waist twice, a code that only your husband knows, that means to cum now.

He pour his seeds deep inside you at the same time as you cum all over his dick.

Both of you are sweating and out of breath but still keeping the position because he still want to feel you close. But he knows he need to lay you down, so he did with gentleness.

He pull out his dick and lay your legs on the mattress, giving it a squeeze of ‘well done’ before his hand went up to caress your still blindfolded face.

“I love you. God, i’ve been in love with you since the day Captain Price introduce his spouse.” His words made your heart skip a beat, and it’s not out of flattery but out of panic.

HE’S NOT YOUR HUSBAND???!!!

He took off the blindfold and kiss you lips quickly while you are still adjusting to the light. A few seconds passed by and you now can see the man in front of you.

You pushed him off of you as strong as you could, which is not a lot in the first place but even more after cumming three times. Regardless, he relented and moves away from your embrace, although not without a pout.

“ALEX?!” You could not believe that you just fucked your husband’s coworker!

“That’s a good show, love.” A familiar voice praise you. You glance to the side to find your husband smiling on the chair with his dick out and cum all over his hand.

“John?” You called for him. But your vision is immediately being violated by harsh light, as somone turn on the bedroom light.

After a few seconds, you regain your sight and saw John’s team and their allies in your marital bedroom. Their eyes are filled with lust and want. The buldge on their pants are noticeable but they seems to be more interested in you.

“John? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, love. Should’ve told you beforehand, but the boys agreed on telling you themselves.” He apologized.

“Told me what?” You began asking nervously as the guys start smiling, even Simon from behind his mask.

“On sharing you, Mx. Price. We love you so much, we can’t handle not being yours anymore.” Alex kissed your open palm.

Your eyes widen and heart beating uncontrollably. You loves John, that’s for sure. But the others? You never even look at them more than just your husband’s coworkers.

“Don’t hurt your pretty head. We’re gonna make you love us, yeah?” Johnny approach the bed and start kissing your shoulder while caressing your arm.

John smile at you. “They’re good boys, love. Give ‘em a chance, will you? If you still doesn’t feel anything, we can just make it into strictly sexual or even stop it all together.” He assure you. “I just want my spouse to be worship like what they’re suppose to.”

“Can i be your second husband?” Phillip cheekily asked.

“That position is mine.” Alex retort.

“I’m fine with third.” Kyle interjected.

“Let’s start with boyfriends first.” Simon cut their chatters.

Alex, Johnny, Simon, Kyle, Phillip, Nikolai, Gary, Alejandro, Rudy, Sandman, and Frost. Knowing your husband, you might have to assume there’s more than them.

With a sigh, you smile at John and the boys.

“Anything for you, John.”

[aropride]

maybe i'm just tapped into a second, different set of news organizations but i have definitely seen the news, public figures, elected officials etc talking about "confused girls" - often autistic ones- mutilating our beautiful feminine bodies. i have seen fearmongering about how T makes you a violent angry predator, i've been dogpiled by terfs and called a pedophile because i am a trans man, a lot of "rapid onset gender dysphoria" "activism" focuses on trans men specifically. t is a controlled substance ffs. and bathroom bans affect us as well. it's absolutely fucking crazy to say that trans men are "not the target of hatred" or that we're only used as a rhetorical device to advance transmisogyny. trans men are also directly impacted by transphobic rhetoric and legislation and it is so fucking out of touch with reality to say we aren't

[thewriterg]

♡︎𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭♡︎

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Fem!reader, Peter Parker x Siren!reader, Sub!Peter x Dom!reader

Summary: At first he would’ve just been colateral damage but you couldn’t let him go and Peter knew you wouldn’t let him go and if you followed the plan you would be together truly soon —kinktober day; 21—

Word count: 1.0k+

Warning(s): Pure filth, Peter is 21, Mommy kink, oral m receiving, p in v, breath play, aftercare, a peak of manipulation, dirty talk, pet names, one mention of a drug —if you blink you’ll miss it—, and language

A/n:—GIFs aren’t mine— I got inspo from an Eddie fic I remember I read a looong time ago I tried to search my like but that was a lost cause so here we are

Peter felt that familiar chill rushing up his body, you were here and he didn’t even need to look at the time to see what the clock read it was 3:00am the time you came every night for the past six months

He felt your nails run up his abs him having to be shirtless and he still couldn’t help the fact but shiver and it never failed to put a dark grin on your face before Peter finally opened his eyes

“That was some stunt you pulled today with that Michelle girl hmm?” You questioned pushing at his lips softly with the pad of your thumb before he knowingly took your finger Into his mouth as you could here the soft suckling noises echoing through the darkness of his room before your other unoccupied hand slipped to his neck

“That was some stunt you pulled today with that Michelle girl hmm?” You questioned pushing at his lips softly with the pad of your thumb before he knowingly took your finger Into his mouth as you could here the soft suckling noises echoing through the darkness of his room before your other unoccupied hand slipped to his neck

“You’re lucky all I did was break that coffee pot because I don’t share, you’re mine and only mine and I’ve think that’s something you’ve seemed to forget” Your grip got tighter on his pulse point and Peter could feel himself get dizzy but refused to tap out it was euphoria in one swift motion

Peter had always thought you could read his thoughts because after one more squeeze you were off his neck while the lost oxygen returned to its rightful place in his lungs before you began leaving cold kisses back down his abdomen stopping just above his waist and smirk etching its way on your face

“So hard for me, as always” Peters senses were going haywire your touch was everywhere and nowhere at the same time before you began to palm him through his pajama pants

“Only for you no one else, only for Mommy” The brunette began babbling and it made your heart swell at the thought reality no one could please him like you did you were his and he was yours only

“No one can ever please you how I do, you would be lost without me” Peter pants were gone in a blink as he nodded rapidly in agreement his hips bucking into nothing as the cold air hit his angry red tip

You hand inched it’s way to the base of his cock your thumb wiping a bead of precum from its tip using it as lube before spitting in your hand as you began to jerk him off not giving the boy a chance to adjust as your hand moved at a rapid pace

“Look at you baby, going so dumb and we’ve barely begun” You taunted as Peter whined loudly before you brought his cock into your mouth your tongue doing spins and spirals on the tip that had his hips bucking and twitching roughly while you hollowed out your cheeks taking his length whole gagging slightly before moving your head up and down never faltering your quick movements while you brought a hand to play with his heavy balls

Peter struggled not to take you right there and fuck you both into oblivion but he didn’t have permission to touch you and he knew that but he also knew he was on the brink of the biggest load in human history

“I’m gonna- fuck I’m gonna come please” Peter was about to fucking cry when he felt your mouth leave his cock with pop as you started kissing his tip then trailing down his thighs back up to his face

“Two more weeks pup, two more weeks and we can be together the moon will reach its apex and I can return to my true form” Peter could feel the vibrations from your words in his jugular as you nipped and lapped over his neck sure to leave marks

“Gonna be with Mommy?” His big brown doe eyes stared into yours his head tilted like a curious puppy that had your stomach flipping in knots you hadn’t felt like this in years, century’s even

“Yes pup, you’re gonna be with Mommy” You whispered sinking down on Peters cock as he moaned such pornographic sound that it could be used for a movie scene his broken words going into your ears and traveling down to your cunt every time you skin slapped together as you bottomed out before thrusting him back in there was a new “mghf” or “fuhh”

“You can touch me baby” You reassured and that was all peter needed to hear before he flipped you both over him now being on top of you slamming his hips into you relentlessly at a brutal pace while tears began to drip from his cheeks down his chin at the grip your pussy had on him

“You fuck me so well baby, gonna fill me up go ahead pup” You moaned his pace bruising his groin smashing into your mound as you could feel the pleasure bubbling in the bottom of your stomach

“Close. gonna come. coming” Peter came with the loudest cry he screamed in the last six months as hot ropes coated your walls as you followed behind him tugging the roots of his hair before he collapsed into you using his shaking arms to break his fall

At least five minutes had passed before you slowly lifted your hands to Peters cock moving it back and out of your clit as he whined nudging his nose into your neck

“Gotta get a towel baby” You muttered lifting from the bed and into the bathroom that connected to Peters room grabbing a clean towel turning on the faucet dampening a corner before returning to the room

You took the damp corner wiping Peter base following with his tip which he jerked his hips at the motion whining

“Too much, no more please” He whimpered holding your hands in place while you shushed him softly

“I know baby I’m all done” You slipped back in the bed next to Peters side as you hand made contact with his hair scratching gently as lied on top of you nudging his nose Into your neck breathing in your scent

He knew you wouldn’t be there when he woke up you had no choice but he only had to deal with it for two more weeks and you could be together, you would turn him so you could love each other forever.

[websterss]

NEVER ANGRY — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

REQUEST: Hi could I request an Anthony Lockwood x reader where after a particularly hard case reader gets hurt protecting Lucy Lockwood fumes and they both argue for a while because the reader insists she did the right thing and Lockwood just yells out “I can’t lose you! Don’t you get it? I love you.” And the reader just stops yelling pulls him into a hug tells him she loves him too and they just spend the night in each other's arms

WARNING(S): angst and fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,881

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

You didn’t know what brought you more discomfort. The aching burn of your open wound or the eery silence that fell over the car ride back to the apartment. Your eyes fell upon each individual member, trying to grasp what each was feeling at that moment. Lucy was slumped against the seat, eyes watching the buildings and road flood past as the car moved. You assumed she was neutral, perhaps thankful as one being saved could get. You turned your head to watch as George fiddled with the zipper of his jacket. He too avoided the deafening lack of noise within the car but visibly seeing his shoulders tensed up had you assuming he didn’t want to disrupt the peace, wanting it to last a little longer. Though you didn’t mind it that much. You were grateful for the silence. Taking advantage of it because once the car stopped moving you’d all be graced with the burning rage that was radiating off of Anthony.

Now as for Lockwood. The rapid tapping of his foot and the very obvious vein popping against his forehead were enough to display his lack of impatience. He’d bolt the second he saw the steps of the apartment. You assumed as much since you were the cause of such smoke practically fuming out of his ears. The dreaded scolding and berating was something you weren’t at all looking forward too, but you very much expected it to happen. You of all people tonight did not hesitate to put your life on the line for the sake of the others. Preferably in Lucy’s case. Almost on the verge of being pummeled had it not been for the shove your gave her. She graciously thanked you with tears spilling past her waterline, scolding you for such rash behavior, all within the time span that you felt something pierce your abdomen. The visitor having thrown sharp objects your way. It hardly hurt the more you thought about it. Though you feared that that wasn’t entirely a good sign especially since blood seeped through your not so white shirt. At least you came out heroic! That had to count for something right? Right?!

You flinch as you, Lucy, and George walk in after Lockwood who had burst in. The swing of the door collided harshly with the wall creating a dent. You could hear as more doors slammed against their thresholds, causing a series of flashbacks to flood your mind. None worth remembering. None you wanted to flee your mind instantaneously.

“Maybe I should go talk-“ Lucy begins.

“No, he’s mad at me…I think it’d be wiser for me to face him.” You shake your head at Lucy.

“You sure?” You can see traces of worry within her.

“Yeah. I’m sure…I’ll be fine.” You force a smile hoping it’d look convincing. The last thing you wanted to do was worry her. You're aware of the fact she doesn't believe you, neither do you believe yourself since your own eyes were locked on the staircases that lead up to his bedroom. You can only imagine the amount of damage that he's caused in there.

You take a deep breath and climb up the stairs. You clutch at your side, trying not to gather more attention on yourself.

The closer you approach the doorway to his room, the louder the faint sounds of his voice and muffled smashing of objects grow. Anthony’s room was located across from the first landing. Thankfully the door itself remains closed. You can feel bits of tension and anger radiating from within the room to the point it’s almost palpable. You almost don't feel like knocking.

But you do knock, knowing the faster you got his confrontation created from your stupidity out the way, the quicker you could dress the wound. You raise your knuckles to his door, knocking three separate times. The noises from within the room cease and only silence lingers. The sounds of Anthony’s footsteps can now be heard, growing louder and louder.

It’s almost surreal how fast your mind goes from racing a thousand words a minute to an eerie and almost deafening silence. As his steps get louder so does your pounding heartbeat in your ears, a strange sinking feeling rising up your throat. You try your best to hold in the urge to feel like you’re about to throw up and instead stand your ground outside of his closed door. The doorknob jiggles.

The door hinges scream as the door opens. Anthony’s face appears in the doorway. You instantly notice how flushed and red his cheeks are. His brown eyes glare at you intensely. A vein pops in the middle of his forehead, anger radiating off of him like waves of heat.

"You going to let me in, or am I going to remain bleeding out here all night?"

“Don’t start with me.” He growls, his hands balling into fists before he steps aside and allows you to come in.

He opens the door wider, allowing you to enter the mess of a room. The walls are peppered with dents, along with the mirror by the front of the room as well as an antique clock. His nightstand has been flipped over and shattered onto the floor. The sheets of his bed are rumpled, and blankets are scattered around the room, you were surprised it wasn't worse off.

"Redecorating I see?" You breathe out. He glares at you before he turns around, and walks over to his dresser. He opens his drawers and grabs a medical kit.

“Shut it.” Anthony mutters as he sits down on the edge of his mattress.

He gestures for you to sit down, though you feel like doing so would only escalate the situation as you can already feel him glaring daggers in your direction. You feel yourself grow more weary by the second, you were pretty sure the adrenaline high from earlier was wearing off.

"I think you could do with a new lampshade. Maybe even a new color for the walls. I was thinking forest green but if you-" You ramble off, only pissing him off further on purpose.

“You’re infuriating. You know that?” The young man’s gaze narrows, his eyes boring straight into yours. "Never do as you're told..." He leans closer to inspect the wound, his brows furrowing into a scolding frown.

"I've had great influence." You muster a teasing smirk.

“Just for that, I should leave you here to bleed out.” Anthony mutters a dry remark before he leans in a little too close for your liking and gently begins lifting the hem of your shirt.

"You'd never gather the courage. You'd hate yourself for it. Don't worry your gorgeous head Tony a little wound like this can't get rid of me that easily." Your laugh turns into a groan as he presses a wet cloth with disinfectant pray on it.

A string of curses come out of your mouth before you can halt them. The smell of the disinfectant burns the inside of your nostrils, causing your face to screw up involuntarily. He presses a little harder with the cloth, not seeming phased by your reactions.

You can feel your cheeks heat up as you grit your teeth and try to hold back the pain and not squirm around.

"Well…that didn't cheer you up." You wince.

“It’s not really a happy occasion,” Anthony mutters as he continues to press the cloth against your wound.

The pain was still there, but you felt like it was diminishing a little. Or maybe you were just growing accustomed to it. All you could smell was the antiseptic burning into the wound.

"I'd have expected a smile of some sort at least." You shrug as you fall back on the bed.

He raises an eyebrow at you as he finishes cleaning out the wound and begins to sew it. “How could you be reckless?” You hear him ask with an exasperated tone.

It took every ounce of willpower for you not to flinch or make any sudden movements, the pain from your wound made it difficult to stay still, but if you moved around too much, he might apply more pressure than necessary.

"I prefer the term heroic…God!" You groan as the needle pierces through your skin.

“Heroism is being reckless, and you almost got yourself killed because of it.” He finishes stitching up the wound. You can see the slight relief on his face as he leans back on his heels.

He then places your right hand over his so he can press down onto the wound. You almost let out a moan when he does this, the sharp pain sending a jolt through you all over again. You try your best not to react to it.

"A-Alright, next time, it's Lucy's turn." You roll your eyes.

“There shouldn’t be a next time.” He snaps back, but the pain he sees in your eyes makes him pause. His eyes quickly soften a little and he removes his hand from where he previously pressed it down. “How’s it feeling?” His eyes search yours for any sign of discomfort.

"Like I've been stabbed." You deadpan.

He can’t help but let out a dry scoff before he lets out a tired sigh. “That tends to happen when you throw yourself in front of someone.” His eyes shift back to your wound just to make sure it’s fully closed up. "Seriously, do you need anything from me, and don’t give me a sarcastic remark.” He adds as an afterthought.

"I-I need you not to be angry with me…" You struggle to sit up. His face falls as he goes to stand up. "Anthony please!"

He pauses for a moment as he watches you try to sit up. His face is still lined with frustration. The anger within his eyes lingers.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He asks as he helps you gently sit up. "I heard Lucy scream, and it felt like the world stopped. How could you be so stupid!"

"Stupid? I was saving our friend!" You snap.

“By recklessly jumping in front of a visitor!” Anthony shouts. “You could’ve died if it managed to get the drop on you. You could’ve been possessed if it had turned out to be a Poltergeist. And don’t even get me started about what would’ve happened if it were to ghost-lock you. You’d have been gone before we even managed to reach you.”

"I'm fine though, nothing happened!"

“Nothing happened?” Anthony asks incredulously. He repeats louder as he looks down at you. “You got stabbed! You lost a fair amount of blood. “Nothing happened?!” He throws his hands up, trying not to show the intense worry he is feeling. Nothing happened?!” He snaps, his voice cracking. “And the fact that you’ll just say so, so calmly?!”

"Yes nothing more- God what do you want from me? I was only trying to save her-"

“I can’t lose you! Do you not understand that? I love you.” Anthony pauses, staring at you as the anger fades from his eyes, his gaze shifting to the ground. He’s now at a complete loss, not knowing what to say. He wants to be angry at you for being foolish and reckless, but seeing the way you’re looking down as if you feel regretful, makes it difficult.

"You love me?" Your voice cracks.

“I love you. The thought of losing you is unimaginable.” Anthony whispers. It’s the first time he’s ever uttered those three words directly to you. As if this whole argument were simply a ploy for him to finally admit it. "Is that okay?"

You can't muster your laughter. You close your eyes in disbelief at his silly question. "Just as long as it's okay for me to love you too?"

“You’ve always been so annoyingly good at getting under my skin and turning my questions around, but this one time…I’m okay with it.” He replies. It’s a strange sensation. To feel the weight of the words slip off his tongue. To finally admit all those stupid little arguments you always have meant something. "More than okay with it." He breathes out.

"Good. I'd have been very upset if you didn't think so." A smile grows on your lips.

Anthony stares at you, his eyes searching yours. He wants to get closer to you, to kiss you, to pull you onto his bed, to never let go. All the things his stupid heart and brain are telling him to do, and yet there’s this immense feeling of hesitation.

He knows what this means for both of you. He knows what happens next. But he can’t seem to bring himself to do it, to take the first step. The fear of rejection is making him feel foolish by this one moment of hesitation, and he knows he’s got to get rid of this insecurity.

“Stop it.” He mutters as he reaches down to caress your cheek with his hand. “I’m supposed to be the one angry with you.”

"I don't think you're capable of remaining angry for so long…" You lean into his hands.

He lets out a small breath. “No, I don’t think I am,” Anthony whispers. He’s got to be close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath as he leans in closer.

Anthony’s heart starts to speed up at the idea that this one single motion could change everything between them. He lets his fingers trace from your cheek down to your jawline, trailing softly along your skin. His body leans forward ever so slightly until his nose almost touches yours. He wants this moment to last forever. To freeze time and have you right here with him.

But instead, all he can do is whisper a soft, hopeful, “Please.”

You spare him the wait and tug him closer by his locks.

His eyes widen when you finally take the initiative. He brings his other hand to your other cheek and cups it as you pull him in. Before he knows it, your lips are pressed together in a heated kiss. Your bodies mold together as you both press close against each other. The kiss becomes intense, and all he can think about is the heat in his stomach, and how the moment feels too good to be true.

You're too lost in the kiss, you forget the reason why he was angry to begin with. Yet when your stomach brushes against his own and before you know it, you wince, pulling back gently from his lips.

Anthony notices the sudden change in your demeanor. He pulls back with a concerned expression on his face. Your pained reaction is enough to pull him out of the passion-filled moment.

"Slow." He breathes out and rests his head against yours. He raises a hand to touch the outskirts of your wound as if he needed a reminder. "We need to go slow about this until you're all better."

"I don't think I can wait that long." You shook your head.

"You'll have to." He replies. He knows it's not fair, that you have to wait for something that he so desperately wants too. "I don't want to risk the wound opening back up." He adds, hoping you'll understand.

"I know…" You look back up at him.

He stares at you for a moment more, his eyes scanning your face as if he wants to remember every single detail before he pulls away from you. He gives a gentle smile before brushing his thumb against your face, and letting his fingers brush through your hair. He leans in to place a kiss on your forehead, the softest kiss he’s given you yet. "How about we exchange kisses for some much-needed sleep?" He smirks.

You hadn't even fully registered the toll and lack of energy you were experiencing. That was evident. The adrenaline high from earlier was wearing off, and you were now experiencing the aftereffects.

“Sleep will do us both some good.” He breathes in deeply, closing his eyes and allowing his hand to drift down to your neck which he rubs softly with his thumb. You can already feel your body start to relax, but you can’t fight the tiredness building up inside you anymore. “After the whole fiasco, nearly losing you, I'd like to simply hold you.” Is all he mutters.

"I'd like that…" You sigh as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s not long till you pull away.

You toe off your shoes and jacket, then allow him to lead you onto his bed.

Anthony pulls the blanket over him and you both, making sure you're warm. His arm wraps firmly around you as he holds you close so that you are completely cradled in his embrace. All the tension from the fight having faded away by now, replaced with a deep sense of security and peace.

You feel your body relax into his as your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. You feel yourself start to slip, slowly drifting off into oblivion as Anthony pulls you even closer, the warm breath of sleep drifting between you both. The last thing you feel is a sweet kiss pressed against your temple.

[littlefireball]

ᴡʏ|ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʀ (ᴍ)

ᴋɪʟʟᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ x ᴀɢᴇɴᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ| ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴏᴛ|ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴅʀʏ ʜᴜᴍᴘ|ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ 

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 411

With a subtle nod in the direction your partner pointed, you zeroed in on your target—the city's infamous mob boss. After confirming that no one was in his vicinity,  you stealthily followed the inebriated man into a private room. Suddenly, a firm grip on your shoulder halted your advance. Spinning around with a swift motion, you launched an attack, but he effortlessly blocked it by crossing his arms. The two of you engaged in a rapid exchange, fists flying like bolts of lightning, each strike landing with precision. 

He seized your wrists, rendering you immobile. "That's not the way to the restroom, lady," Wooyoung taunted, a smirk playing on his lips as he shoved you against the wall. His strength was overwhelming, leaving you no chance to retaliate. 

"Get off me." 

"You can try." He drew closer, his lips nearly grazing yours as he whispered softly. The gentle caress sent a spark coursing through you. His warm breath enveloped your skin, and his sultry voice resonated in your ears, awakening a deep yearning within.

"Maybe you don't want me to get off. Oh gosh, I wanna fuck you. You're so fucking hot." 

With one hand pinning your arms to your chest, the other began a slow, deliberate journey down your inner thigh, inching closer to your clothed clit. His kneel sunk between your thighs, rubbing against your soaked lower core while his finger slid in your underwear. Circling around your clit, he teased your fold and tapped your bud, making you bite your lips to muffle moaning. The tingling sensation sent your heart into a frenzy, breath coming in quick gasps. You found yourself instinctively arching your back and tilting your head, completely consumed by the ecstasy he brought you.

He spread your thigh to the side and unzipped his pants, pulling out his arched angry cock covered with pre-cum. Gripping the shaft of his member, he then brushed your soaked clit with his tip, earning a small and choppy moan from your lips. Pulling the hem of your panties, he pushed his cock inside, quickly grazing against your fold. From the tip to the shaft, he made sure you feel every vein of his cock while moving so fast. Your juices mixed with his pre-cum, producing a loud water friction sound. 

Without a second thought, he thrusted into your cunt, causing you to scream out. 

"Oh honey, you're so good for me." 

"Fuck."

You know you will die for it. 

tag list:@angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615

[k-s-morgan]

Those Gentle Slopes: Snippet

Thought to share a final snippet before the posting of the chapter! Have some protective Sebastian and unhinged Ciel)) Also, I have to say that when I'll be writing this chapter from Sebastian's POV, it will be probably creepier than anything that happened so far. He broke my plans and started getting a lot more physical than I expected, having a couple of unplanned realizations. Huh. I love the mystery writing.

--------------------

“Sebastian,” he barked. His commanding tone must have reached some part of Sebastian’s brain because he turned his head slightly, but he still didn’t let go, and this was infuriating as much as it was flattering.

Looked like not sensing his soul didn’t make Sebastian any less willing to protect him. He still got angry on Ciel’s behalf — angry enough to ignore his orders and common sense.

Good. But unacceptable. If speaking didn’t work…

Ciel stepped out from behind Sebastian and wrapped his hand around his wrist. Shivers of strange, heady heat blossomed all over his body when he sank into the inviting unnatural energy Sebastian was radiating, feeling it sing under his touch. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his head cool, but fortunately, Randall’s gurgling sounds helped a little.

And it seemed like he’d already succeeded in something — Sebastian was staring at him now, the deadly redness of his stare quickly softening to a more human shade. Holding his gaze, Ciel tapped against his wrist in rapid succession, recreating the secret language they had devised a long time ago.

Stop. This is an order. You’re still mine, you have to obey me.

He wasn’t certain it would work any better than his verbal commands did, but something about his new approach must have finally gotten through. Sebastian released his grip and let Randall crash to the floor like a sack of sand. He seemed far more interested in Ciel now — one of his hands wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and another one touched his chin, tilting his head back to reveal his neck.

The futility of this evaluation was blatantly apparent. Randall hadn’t managed to touch him, so whatever damage Sebastian was checking him for couldn’t be there. It was absolutely ridiculous, but for some reason, Ciel didn’t protest. He stood there patiently, allowing Sebastian to examine him to his satisfaction.

Finally, Sebastian hummed in contentment and let him go. Almost. His fingers slid down to Ciel’s wrist and stayed there, holding it firmly but unobtrusively. His attention returned to Randall’s panting form, and this time, Ciel caught the moment when the darkness flared in his eyes.

“Let me make one thing clear,” Sebastian uttered. A smile touched his lips, but it was as far from what a smile was supposed to be that even Ciel found it disturbing. “If you attempt to inflict any kind of damage on my Master again, the next time your family sees you, you will be chopped into more pieces than your daughter will be able to count. Perhaps I will feed your liquefied remains to her. Would you like that?”                

The desire for something Ciel couldn’t identify took over his rational thoughts again. He almost swayed on his feet, his skin burning, his lips parting in a pleased sigh. More waves of joy crashed into him when Sebastian placed his shoe on Randall’s ankle and pressed against it carefully. His movements seemed feather-light, but the bone cracked anyway, followed by Randall’s pained shout.

“It’s not broken,” Sebastian noted disdainfully. “Consider it your warning. You will leave this house and you will not bring anything that happened here up with anyone. Because I know where you live, and I know how to slip into places unnoticed.” The sharp grin he gave Randall was downright frightening, but Ciel felt like he could drown in it. He shook his head, hoping it would be enough to sober him up. His body was behaving in an increasingly odd way, and it was getting tedious to make sense of its incomprehensive needs and demands.

Wheezing but trying to keep all the sounds locked in his mouth, Randall stood up. He nearly fell down, a pained grimace twisting his red face. What was even more fascinating was the wetness of frustrated tears shining in his eyes. The sight was completely unprecedented, and Ciel stared at it greedily, committing every inch of it to memory.

“You may not believe it right now,” Randall said, his voice hoarse, “but there will be a reckoning. One day, the both of you monsters will die, and I’ll become the last thing you see.”

[puppetmaster13u]

Bird-Bat Language [Part 1]

A majority of the language is whistles, as those can carry great distances, but other noises are also used, helped along by things such as comms.

Each Batfamily member has a name-call These are all variations of whistling, sometimes with an added sound to differentiate.

Bruce: click-low-high-low-low (simple, with the click being mixed with a sound akin to snapping teeth) Barbara: high-coo-low-low (the coo is short while the last low is longer and trails off) Dick: low-high-high-high (his entire call is rapid as he made it when he was younger & more impatient) Jason: high-click-click-high (the first high is long while the two clicks are rapid) Cassandra: low-low-low-high (almost all of her call is long save for the first low whistle) Tim: rapid high-low-high-high (as mentioned his entire call is rapid and bunched together almost into one sound) Stephanie: long high-low-high-high (Almost identical to Tim's call save that it's stretched out for several seconds) Duke: click-low-high-click (usually adds to his call by clinking the armor on his suit giving an underlying metal sound) Damian: click-high-high-coo (click lacks snapping noise but may be accompanied by metal on stone from blades) Jarro: coo-low-high (the coo is between a high and low whistle, as though to tell how small he is) Alfred: low-low-high-high-low (the two highs are faster than the rest of the call) Kate: click-click-high-low (similar to Bruce's call the clicks are added onto via snapping teeth)

Allies, temporary or otherwise also have name-calls Not all of said allies understand what the calls mean, and in most cases the calls are used by the batfamily only unless taught.

Clark: shrill whistle-chirp (originally the rapid shrill sound was used as a warning of how dangerous he was until friendship was achieved with Bruce) Selina: merp-coo-low-low (the merp is similar to a meow while the rest of the call is slow as she's not a threat) Poison Ivy: long low-high (the two sounds are lengthened to make up for the simplicity to separate from basic noises) Harley Quinn: short high-low (the noise is usually repeated several times similar to a whistling giggle) Ghostmaker: high-high-low-click-hoot (the click hoot is a reference to his suit, specifically the metal, weapons, & cloak) Harvey: coo-low-low-click (the coo reveals the affection still there for Bruce's childhood friend even when the call was first created)

There are several sounds commonly used during patrol These were some of the first noises/words created for the language due to how important several of the meanings are

Danger/Alert: high-low-low-high (a noise made to let each other know of danger without alerting outsiders or goons) Check In: low-low-high-low-click (this is self explanatory with the others responding with their own check in sounds) Emergency/Come Get Me: rapid low-high-high (also self explanatory, an emergency that they need help getting out of) Emergency/Leave Now: rapid high-low-high (a call that means that there's an emergency & the others need to get out) Be Back/Don’t Worry: rapid chitter (usually used when they come across something not dangerous) Warning/Don’t Come: repeated rapid high (pretty much the opposite of the previous call that continues for several minutes)

There's a secondary series of patrol noises focused on individuals Several of these were made around the time that other heroes and rogues started to emerge outside of Gotham

Unknown Intruder: tap-tap-click-chitter (It's quieter than most other calls to not alert the person they're talking about) Hero Intruder: shrill shriek-click-whistle (This is one of the louder calls & far more openly angry sounding) Enemy Intruder: short shriek-whistle-click-click (the shriek is used for intimidation purposes, usually during an attack) Being Watched: short low-click long high (One of the quietest noises, mostly to not alert the observer they're aware) Target Spotted: rapid click-click-click-high (This is usually coupled with other calls such as a specific rogue or other info) Engaging Target: rapid chirp-high-high long low (This was created after the kids went in without a plan with no warning several times)

There's also several calls are for specific rogues These were made at various times as more rogues emerged, usually used with other calls such as target spotted with a large amount of the calls having warnings inside the sound

Two-Face: rapid low-low-click-high-high (his call shares similarities with Harvey's but lacks the affectionate coo & has a pair of highs that could be seen as alarm) Al Ghul: hiss-click long low (the call is meant to mimic the Lazarus Pits, the hissing of liquid, clicking of metal, and low echoes of caves) Bane: buzz-hiss (the sound is supposed to invoke the imagery of creatures such as snakes & wasps, things with Venom) Penguin: trill-bark (it's as close as they can get to a penguin cry, revealing who they're speaking of) Scarecrow: clatter-hiss-caw (the sounds mimic vials falling, opening, & of course the call of a crow, like the kind that perch on scarecrows) Joker: clatter-croak-croak (similar to Scarecrow's call but with more of a coughing sound because they think he's disgusting) Riddler: chirp-long trill-chirp (his call is more musical than most other rogues due to his way of talking in rhymes & riddles) Mr Freeze: long hiss-bark-click (it mimics the sound of something being unsealed and the cracking of ice) Deadshot: bark-trill-high (the call is meant to mimic the shooting of a gun & the whistle of a bullet in flight) Clayface: coo-low-coo (the coos are affectionate, but interspaced with a low sound, like hidden danger) Madhatter: hiss-trill-coo (honestly similar to riddler's but the hiss shows he's more of an asshole) Man-Bat: chitter-bark-click (his call mimics the sound of bats combined with something larger, like a big dog)

There's also smaller-scale crime sounds These are also used for the people working with rogues too

Mob: warble-coo-clatter (This is very self explanatory of organized crime) Goons: chirp-coo-hiss (This isn't quite mob, but still organized crime, usually people who work for rogues) Minor Crime: trill-click (This is for smaller crimes like muggings, robbers, etc) Large Group: buzz-click (This is short, usually used as a warning or in the middle of a situation) Police: caw-bark-click (Pretty self explanatory, and the sounds are easily coverable by the sounds of a city) Assassins: hoot-croak-hiss (They didn't have this word until Damian joined, then they sort of needed it lol)

Part 2: H E R E

[everythingpeaches]

In which Sirius is distracted by green apples.

Lily, despite the past five years of intense dislike, has grown rather fond of James in the past year. But Lily is also a human being with a finite amount of patience and James on his own is very different to James and Sirius together.

'What have you done?'

It's a pointless question, she can see what they've done. What they've done is spilling like rapids down the fourth floor corridor and staining the hardwood green.

'It was an experiment,' Sirius says with a reckless amount of nonchalance.

'It was an accident,' James corrects with a more appropriate degree of chagrin.

'What exactly were you trying to do?' Asks Remus, looking far more amused than Lily who has turned a rather lovely shade of plum.

Lily took her role as a prefect a lot more seriously than Remus, who had thought it a joke when his shiny gold badge had first arrived in the mail. The other marauders had certainly found it hilarious. It had turned out not to be a joke, though, but rather some harebrained plan by Dumbledore to instill a level of control over the unruly marauders. So far, the plan had been unsuccessful, mostly because Remus ignored his prefect duties on every occasion presented to him. Still, the private bathroom had its perks and he didn't mind patrolling when it was with Lily. That was until they stumbled upon James and Sirius in the middle of a slime filled corridor.

'Well James bet me five sickles that I couldn't transfigure the water in the taps to firewhisky-'

'A bet I won, by the way,' James interrupts.

'Well anyway, I got a bit distracted while I was casting and I think I got my ahs and oohs mixed up, and well...' he trails off, gesturing to the mess around them.

It's a wonder no professors have emerged to investigate the sound of rushing water or the cries of alarm coming from some of the lower hanging paintings.

'It actually smells rather lovely,' Remus says.

'Green apple,' Sirius confirms with a nod and a slight blush.

It was the smell of Remus’ shampoo.

'Oh,' Remus says, his own cheeks flushing.

Oblivious, Lily throws her arms in the air and lets out a huff of annoyance.

'Well, as lovely as it smells it can't stay here. It's going to start running down the stairs. Can't you stop it?'

'Ah well, in theory yes!' Sirius says, pulling his gaze from the other prefect to smile brightly at the angry red head.

'But in the very practical sense,' James says, attempting seriousness, 'no.'

'I've never been as good at the counter charms, my attention span doesn't usually last that long. I like making messes, not cleaning them up.' Sirius explains, leaning casually against the wall and twirling a piece of hair around his finger. 'That's normally Moony's job, but you've stolen him from us.'

'Well I am sorry, Black, but I should think you ought to learn to clean up after yourself, don't you? Remus isn't your maid.'

Remus thinks that role describes him rather perfectly, but the look in Sirius eyes tells him he's one comment away from making a joke about Remus in a frilly white apron so he shuts up and leaves Lily to the admonishing.

He instead turns his focus to the ever flowing stream of green. It looks very much like the same spell they had used to flood the dungeons in third year, with a few tweaks Remus is sure he can work out.

He loves undoing magic. It is like untangling threads, picking pieces apart until the knot comes loose and order is restored. He especially enjoys undoing Sirius' spells, who casts magic with such careless ease it leaves Remus both incredibly envious and full of awe.

Remus begins muttering incantations under his breath, twiddling his wand around and feeling the flow of liquid begin to slow and then, eventually, receed back up the corridor and into the taps of the fourth floor bathroom.

Lily, James and Sirius stop their bickering to watch with equal expressions of shock.

'Moony, you're a genius!' James shouts appreciatively.

'Shush!' Lily hisses, flapping her hands at James before turning to Remus, 'Wow, nice work, Remus.'

'Told you,' Sirius says with a smirk.

Remus makes his usual show of modesty, although he is secretly quite pleased with all the praise.

'It was nothing, really, pretty simple. Although I'm not sure what to do about the smell.'

The hallway, now clear of liquid, still smells overwhelmingly of green apples.

'Well it could be worse, at least it's not dungbombs. It is rather lovely,' Lily says, causing Remus to blush again.

'We should probably get away from here before Filch turns up and makes us scrub the teachers' toilets again,' James says and then, hopefully, 'Coming Lily?'

'We should really finish patrolling,' Lily begins but Remus can tell her hearts not in it.

'Oh come on, Lil, it's pretty late already and it's Hogsmede tomorrow, I thought you wanted to get up early to beat the breakfast rush,' he says, glancing at where Sirius is still leaning against the wall. He would very much like to cut his patrol short and head back to Gryffindor tower.

'I suppose...' she starts, and James takes that as all the encouragement he needs.

'Come on, then, I'll walk you back!'

Together, the pair start off down the corridor leaving Remus and Sirius to follow several paces behind.

'So,' Remus asks, watching his two friends in front of them, rather than the boy beside him, 'What was it you were thinking about that distracted you so badly you flooded the corridor?'

'Well,' Sirius replies slowly, fingers brushing against the back of Remus' hand as they walk, 'let's get back to the dormitory and I'll show you.'

'Oi Black,' James calls over his shoulder, making both boys jump suddenly.

'What do you want, Potter?' Sirius hisses back.

'You owe me five sickles.'

[wol-fica]

-𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤 ℙ𝕋2-

pairings - wednesdayaddams x fem!reader

summary - you go on date with wife, you loose wife in crowd, wife goes feral, wife almost murders for you, wife finds you, all is well 🥹

warnings - knife to neck, swearing

an - married r and nes are my new favorite thing

———————

Wednesday was feeling overwhelmed.

She was scared, angry, paranoid, and on top of that she was murderous.

A simple date night was all you and her wanted to do on a boring Friday evening, but low and behold something had to go wrong. You had planned everything out perfectly, down to the discrete restaurant location for Wednesday’s comfort and the restaurant itself, styled as a gothic tap-bar from the great depression.

Perfect for the two of you.

But inconveniently, a rather famous singer was having a show for their world tour and the area they were performing at was a minute down the road from where the restaurant was located, meaning squealing fans were coating the streets and reeking havoc everywhere.

A rather large crowd had formed outside of the bar, but you and Wednesday had to get to your car so you could head home for the night. Inconveniently, you were very uncoordinated and would frequently loose things or yourself when out and even in your own home, and almost as soon as you stepped outside, your hand slipped from Wednesday’s.

Panic invaded her senses, her head whipping around frantically in search of you. People were crowded shoulder to shoulder, shoving each other in an attempt to get into the arena on time for the concert, so it was quite hard to find you.

“Y/N?!” Wednesday called out, her eyes scanning for your familiar face.

She thought she heard your voice in response, and turned her body towards the sound, but was immediately shoved and practically thrown into a light post by a group of fan girls aggressively running past.

Her head smacked into the metal, her hands slipping past the pole as she tried to catch herself. The feeling of a warm liquid trailing down from her forehead made her wince, but she couldn’t focus on that now.

Wednesday stood back up, her nose scrunched in discomfort as she began to walk around in search of you, her wife. The amount of people had died down, but there were still enough that she couldn’t see you.

She walked back towards the restaurant, hoping to find you waiting there for her instead of potentially being trampled by a bunch of fans; she did not want to picture that.

Giggling flooded her ears and she slowly turned her head to the left, a frown etching itself upon her lips. One of the girls from before was chatting away on her phone, utterly oblivious that she had shoved Wednesday earlier.

Her face darkened, and before she knew it her legs were bringing her over to the girl. A small dagger slid out from her sleeve and into her hand, in which she swiftly brought to the girls throat.

“Put the phone down.” Wednesday said, the blade caressing the girls foundation-caked skin.

Her other hand found the back of the girls throat, pulling her head back harshly. Her black eyes bore into blue ones, a murderous aura clouding her judgment.

“Where is she.” Wednesday asked softly, her lips grazing the shell of the girls ear.

“Who? What?” The girl was panicking, her breathing becoming rapid.

“Don’t make me slit your throat, WHERE. IS. SHE.” Wednesday growled, the dagger sliding incredibly close to the girls jugular.

“I don’t know!” The girl cried, looking around frantically in search of help.

Wednesday hissed but retracted her weapon, sliding it back up her sleeve and briskly walking away from the distressed girl. She crossed the street, ignoring the honks of oncoming cars, and proceeded to stalk the sidewalks to look for you.

She walked for a few minutes, maybe 10 total, before she spotted you sitting on the curb sporting a bruised cheek and what looked to be a sprained ankle. Her emotions flared, hands clenching into fists at the thought of you getting hurt.

“Y/N.” Wednesday stated as she came to you, sitting down next to you.

You looked up, surprise and relief washing over your face at the sight of your partner. Immediately your hands reached for her, pulling her into a side hug as your face went into her neck. She held you, running her hand up and down you arm as a means of comfort.

“Amor…” She said, trying to pull back so she could inspect your injuries, “Let me see you.”

You sat back up, a dopey smile on your face as Wednesday checked out your bruise. Once she was satisfied that it wasn’t open or infected, she the turned to your ankle. Her hands gently grasped your leg, pulling it out and up so she could see your injury.

“Nes I’m fine..” You tried to say but she wouldn’t listen, her focus on your ankle.

“It’s sprained.” She confirmed after you hissed when she tried to turn it.

You groaned, rolling your eyes and slumping your head forward in defeat. Suddenly, a hand cupped your jaw and forced your head up, eyes locking with Wednesday’s feral ones.

“Never,” She started, her voice low and menacing, “will you disappear from me and hurt yourself in a crowd.”

You gulped, nodding profusely as she stared you down into submission. Her eyes softened slightly and she sighed, letting your face go so she could wrap her arms around your shoulders and pull you upright.

“Can you walk?” Wednesday asked, watching as you attempted to limp forward and almost fall.

“Nope.” You quipped, popping the p and turning to her with a lopsided grin.

She rolled her eyes and proceeded to pick you up bridal style, her arms right around you so you would not fall. A blush coated your face, your neck and ears going red with embarrassment.

“Nes..” You mumbled, but was cut off with a gentle kiss to your unbruised cheek.

“Quiet, you are injured.”

“But this is an extent.”

“Would you rather crawl after me? I can drop you and watch you act like an old dog.”

“No!” You yelled as her grip loosened, your arms flying to her neck for support.

Wednesday hummed, holding your closer as she walked in the direction of where you parked. You leaned yourself into her, your head resting on her shoulder in exhaustion.

“Thanks for taking me on a date.” She murmured, kissing your temple.

You laughed, an infectious sound to Wednesday that made her heart feel disgusting and soar with love.

“Anything for my raven.” You purred, pressing your lips to hers.

———————

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[formulapookie]

8 + rosquez

8. who did this to you

it’s been a while they’ve finally stopped senseless hookups labeled as with no feelings and actually talked it out.

It has been difficult at first yes, but everything is with them.

Especially now with Marc being Pecco’s teammate and him still being scarred after what Vale did.

“I am not leaving this time, unless it’s you asking me to leave I am not going to do it”

It had reassured Marc, and it was beautiful.

Being able to trust again, trust someone you loved so much and still hurt you.

On Vale’s part too, knowing Marc trusts him and doesn’t want him to leave.

Waking up together, feeling the love in their every action, going to sleep in the same bed and getting used to having the other in the same bed in the morning too.

No one knew about them, not even the academy or Alex, they were good at hiding it.

On track for marc it was still uneasy, booing still the same, the tension in the air always thick.

But never like this year had he ever felt so much resentment. Misano felt bad from the start, sending the Ducati into the gravel, a red flash on the side of the track.

But he got up and started again, like always.

Feeling hawk-like eyes on him ready to analyze his every mistake.

By the time the GP ended and he won it was a mixture of emotions.

Happiness for gaining the lead in the championship, proudness towards his team, and that same feeling of unease he had since the start of the weekend.

Italy wasn’t his territory, he knew that, but he thought being with Ducati could’ve made this better.

Turns out it didn’t.

Vale knows Marc went partying with the crew and a few friends, rightfully so, and knew that once he came home the two would’ve shared one of those nights neither could forget.

But when he hears their knock at his door and opens it already thinking about Marc he is in shock.

A bruise on the man’s zygome is pretty the only thing he can focus on right now, some blood still on his cheek, dry.

“What the fuck”

Marc pushed in, trying to hide the bruise Vale has obviously already seen.

“Marc come here”

“Let me go to sleep Vale I just- I just need to sleep”

But Vale is not one to let the person he so dearly loves go to fucking sleep when he’s good blood on him.

He makes a run towards the feet of the stair leading to their room, planting himself in the middle of it.

“No. You are not going to sleep like that. Come here, I need to look at that and do something”

It feels unreal. That’s a punch mark he’s got on his face, how could no one in the Ducati crew fucking see it?

Marc wants to protest, but can’t, just follows Vale to the kitchen, sitting on one of the table chairs and waiting.

The man comes back from the bathroom with a safety kit he keeps there, and starts cleaning the wound and applying creams to make it go away.

Marc can feel the anger radiating from Vale’s body and his stupid brain thinks it’s directed towards him.

“Are you angry with me?”

“Angry with- now why would I be angry with you? You’ve got a fucking bleeding cheek and you think I’m angry at you?”

Marc has tears he’s holding back, he doesn’t want to let them out.

“I am worried for you Marc, not angry, never angry”

It is true, a marc knows the tone in Vale’s voice when he’s being honest, that is it.

“Now. Tell me” Vale sits down, practically bloodshot eyes and fingers tapping against the wooden table.

“Who did this to you?”

and Marc wants to sink in the chair and stay silent.

He doesn’t want to look weak.

“Marc.

What asshole did this to you?”

and this time Marc answers, telling him about a guy with a 46 cal who’s been in the VR46 box, garage, the whole time, and which Vale has heard comment about Marc in a not so pleasant way.

“Ok” there’s a pause in which they’re both so silent Marc can only feel

his heartbeat and Valle’s rushed and rapid one.

“I’ll have him blacklisted from every paddock on earth and go talk to him very quickly”

“No Vale I - no”

“Marc he punched you. He punched you because you are you and because I said those horrible things about you. And he believed me.

I am not letting this go unnoticed”

“I love you want to avenge me or whatever you’re thinking but right now I just need you to stay here. With me. Please I need you to stay with me”

and Vale crumbles. Marc is hurt, not just physically, hearing those words again must have gotten a hit on him.

“I’ll stay here then. Make sure you don’t hurt and make you fall asleep. But i’ll have him kicked out anyway. He’s dangerous”

Marc nods, while Vale walks him to the couch,pulling him into a hug so tight it could be suffocating.

And Marc just curls up in his embrace, head against Vale’s chest, feeling the man’s heartbeat slow down as he strokes his hair.