#atomic blonde smut

[megantheestallion-ismypresident]

I need Bill skarsgård x reader asap please someone make fanfic of him I swear to god,He's so fine. I need more fanfics of this man in real life and his characters that he plays like I'm begging 😭 😩 😫 🙏

[sawyerconfort]

enjoy the silence | lorraine broughton x fem! reader

I am back! Finally, I hope you didn't mind my disappearance. I decided to take a little break from the stories because I felt like I really needed to rest, and I was running out of creativity. I also went traveling this weekend and didn't have time to write as I had planned, but anyway, I'm back and that's what matters!

As I said in the previous post, I will be focusing this week on writing multifandom oneshots, and maybe an ask or two will be answered over the weekend, so those of you who sent in asks, please be patient with me, as always!

Well, taking into account the lack of stories about her, and taking into account that in the last few weeks I gained a boost of obsession with Charlize Theron, let's do a oneshot with Lorraine!

This is fem!reader, but if you feel comfortable adjusting your pronouns in it as you read, feel free!

Enjoy!

Requests open!

*Atomic Blonde is such a badass movie, oh gosh, I can't!*

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

Premise: As you tend to Lorraine's wounds, some things become crystal clear between you. Things that had apparently been kept secret for a long time…

***

You were used to being alone after all the other male members left. It was your most precious moment of peace, when none of them were making fun of you or making sexual comments about you. It was the only time, as one of the top MI6 officials, when you could be silent, focusing on things other than missions, The List or anything else that risked your life.

Turns out that night, it was different. You were concentrating on an electrifying chapter of your science fiction book, when you heard the door slamming loudly. A low, whispered curse and you turned, taking the book out of your eyes to look at who it was.

The thing is, you never took the time to talk to her personally and properly. Lorraine Broughton was one of MI6's most gifted and well-known spies, and newcomers joked that she had been with them since their beginnings in the Stone Age.

Someone of extreme importance like Lorraine apparently didn't have time to listen to your bullshit.

Your eyes met and she took off the black collar that covered her mouth, her platinum hair giving extreme emphasis to her scarred face.

"Good evening, agent (Y\LN), I thought there was no one here."

Hell, she knew your last name! How was that possible?

"I was just leaving, Lorraine, don't worry," you said, trying to sound at least reasonable so as not to cause a fuss with her. But then, as soon as you got up, you noticed her ripped pants, a hideous trickle of blood running down one part of her leg, and her face streaked with red streaks and very swollen.

She looked back at you, the weight of those pale eyes taking over you, and then, your voice was categorical, hoping she wasn't going to dump your ass, not this time.

"Need some help tending to those wounds? They look pretty bad…"

She looked at you, and with the same restful face, she shook her head. "Don't waste your time, I'm fine. It happens all the time."

"Lorraine, your leg is bleeding. We better look into this."

"Don't worry, (Y\N), go home, I can take care of myself."

You chuckled, already being aware of her stubbornness. Lorraine was good when she wanted to outsmart someone in an interrogation, especially the guys in the company, but you weren't interrogating her this time, so she didn't have to act so defensive.

Deciding not to let her go without tending to her wounds, you hurried out and opened one of the cupboards in the cold, dark corridor of the office. The sound of the creaking door obviously got Lorraine's attention because everything was extremely loud in that dark office. Grabbing a first-aid kit, which was only used in emergencies by high-ranking men, you pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down.

"I already told you I'm fine, (Y\N), I can take ca-"

"Sit down, please." You didn't mean to sound domineering, but it was unavoidable.

Lorraine rolled her eyes and sat up, legs spread, not intending to cross them. She wasn't going to make the job easy for you, but of course it wasn't a problem anymore. You opened the first aid kit and took out some gauze, cotton and bandages.

"Please, let's not turn this whole thing into a moment of silence, if you want, tell me how you managed the feat of getting all screwed up…", you said, gently swiping the cotton wool over her eyes and lips. , cleaning the blood.

Lorraine gasped and pressed her lips together, feeling the pain of the contact. "Are you sure you work for a spy team, (Y\N)?" You rolled your eyes as she took a deep breath. "It was a chase. Several guys shooting. One of them threw me on the glass table and I ended up cutting myself… not new to me, really."

You continued to gently dab cotton and gauze over the bruises, and her clear, intimidating eyes never left her face as you did so. It was even uncomfortable to look at, such beauty, staring back at you as if it were something normal.

"And how are the guys doing?" you asked curiously, determined to keep her distracted - and to keep you distracted too.

"Dead, I guess. It's not news to me either, they would keep chasing me if they lived and I needed to get rid of them to save my skin…"

You nodded, at the same time that you bent down to get some ointment from the first aid kit and began to run your fingers along Lorraine's injured leg, the blood still very fresh where the glass had probably been stuck. She's lucky she didn't hemorrhage, you thought absently.

"Is that really necessary?!", Lorraine exclaimed, pulling you out of her thoughts, her voice very firm and a hiss of discomfort escaping her lips.

"Unless you want to catch a bacteria, maybe," you replied in the same tone. She laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, okay, you call the shots," she snapped. "Look, it's actually really weird that we've never crossed paths, (Y\N), you seem to know what you're doing."

You nodded, getting up, closing the ointment and putting it back in the first aid kit, as you sat on the edge of Lorraine's chair, her legs keeping your body steady.

"It's hard to come across an agent that the boys keep like a precious jewel inside a password safe…"

She laughed again, and only then did you stop to notice that her smile was beautiful. Your heart missed a beat, but you didn't know if it was envy or some much deeper feeling… And before you knew it, you pushed those thoughts away, afraid of the answer.

Whatever the case, Lorraine Broughton was not the type of person you thought was ideal for the type of person you were. Not as friendship. You could only support yourself within the walls of offices, and despite being called an agent, you were afraid to even fly a plane.

"Is it over yet?", she woke you up from your thoughts again, looking at you with a playful smile. "Yeah, it wasn't so bad after all."

"Yeah, but that's because the bad part starts now!", you said, holding the bandages, which were those children's animal bandages. "You can choose between the giraffe bandages, or the flower bandages, you call the shots, Lorraine."

The smile faltered on your lips as she frowned, clearly confused and uncomfortable, not sure if it was a joke or not.

"Seriously?" she said in disbelief. "Who let the guys buy this?"

You shrugged. "Make a choice, Lorraine."

"I'd rather go without bandages."

"Ah, come on! You're going to make a childhood dream come true! Your inner child is crying out for it, go ahead, choose one!"

"Okay, the giraffe one then.", Lorraine said, in a monotone voice, as if she knew she would regret it the moment she left the office and walked down the street. You laughed, calmly sticking the bandages on her wounds and caressing the skin with your fingers, to fix them better.

That took Lorraine by surprise. Until then, she hadn't known that she could feel that same electricity from a simple touch. She looked back at you, and allowed herself to relax as you finished gluing them all together. At the end, you noticed her look and bit your lip, also caught off guard, completely embarrassed.

"You're free, Lorraine. Now you can even take off the bandages while I'm not looking, I know you're going to do that…", you said, joking, just to ease the tension. But it didn't help much.

Her eyes were too bright in the dim light, and that perfect, even bruised face that looked as if it had been sculpted by angels only made it worse. You were extremely tense and nervous around her, and not in your best dreams, did you imagine that you would feel this way with Lorraine, when you saw her.

"Thank you, (Y\N). And I'm sorry, I think I've been quite rude to you in the meantime, you just wanted to help me get better."

"I don't mind, I'm used to agents' patience…", you laughed again. And he got up, going to put the suitcase back in the closet and close it properly, so that none of the others would notice that you had even touched it.

Lorraine was still staring at you when you looked back at her, and a smile graced her interested expression.

"How long have you been working with us, (Y\N)?", she asked, her deep voice dropping to almost a whisper in the silence between you.

You stopped to think, to remember, to count on your fingers, as you went back and sat in the small space of her chair, as before. Not to tease her, it's just because that was her usual chair and you had this habit of taking possession of things.

"A few months. Five, I think… I'm not good with numbers and dates…", you explained, laughing. Lorraine nodded. "Before you ask, this definitely wasn't the plan since I was a kid, but it seemed to me that I had a knack for it when I had my first experience here, so… yeah, maybe it was nice to get this job."

Lorraine nodded again. "And are you happy here?"

"I think so. I'm sure I do, actually. I don't think I fit in anywhere else right now, honestly."

"That's good, this work is not very easy, there are few people who manage, in the natural order of things, to stay for so long."

Lorraine was still looking at you, and nervousness was still very much present in her body language as she did so.

"And do you have… a boyfriend, (Y\N)?"

You frowned, caught off guard.

"Sorry, that was a weird question."

"No, I don't have a boyfriend", you replied, shaking your head. "It wasn't a weird question, you're just trying to get to know me better…"

Lorraine nodded again, scratching her forehead and looking at you, intent on knowing more. "And are you looking for someone? Or are you completely focused on work right now?"

"Ah, MI6 is my life, yes, but I wouldn't mind breaking that routine to find someone I can share my days with, you know…"

Lorraine looked away, and oddly enough, you noticed that there was a flush in her cheeks. Now, that was something you would never have thought to see, not in Lorraine Broughton.

"You say "someone", so… is someone really someone?"

"Are you asking me about my sexuality?"

Lorraine shrugged. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

"No, I don't have a problem with that, I… I'm open to experimenting, actually. I want something that takes me off my feet, and makes me see whether or not it's worth risking everything."

Lorraine nodded again and her eyes glued to your lips. The tension became even more palpable between you, and when she took the opportunity that you were close to pull you close, seeing that you were going to fall out of the chair if you went any farther back, her inner will spoke louder and she kissed you, absolutely nothing, without expecting you to respond.

If it was someone else, you would have walked away and slapped that person across the face, but that didn't happen with Lorraine. You were so surprised when she kissed you that you just responded. She thought maybe that would ease the tension of the moment, that it would make it easier for you to talk, and she was so beautiful it was impossible to resist.

She was the one who pulled away first, gasping for air, and she opened her clear, beautiful eyes to look at you, her hand hesitating between your hip and your leg.

"Sorry, I really don't know why I did that, I…" she started, but you cut her off, your index finger on her wet lips.

"No, that's fine, I enjoyed it… and actually… I think I'd like to do it again, if you don't mind…"

She laughed and kissed you again, this time letting the moment flow by itself, last as long as it should. You were being drawn, like magnets, to each other's lips, and now it was impossible to break the contact. Lorraine's charm didn't help either, and she ended the kiss after a few seconds with a peck on your cheek.

"Well, I better get going now that you don't need me…" you said, feeling all awkward and embarrassed. Lorraine got up and let go of your hips, and just as you were about to walk through the door, she called out her name.

"Don't you want a ride home, (Y\N)? I think it's too late for us to walk alone…", her voice was full of ulterior motives, and as much as you would love to take things easy, have the chance of a lifetime with Lorraine Broughton made you want to find out where this was going to go.

To be honest, you were under the impression that you wouldn't regret it.

[edentheron]

Navigation

none of my works is yours to steal or repost

:) me

. Louise

. 19

. lesbian

. she/her

. wattpad writer since 2019 (feeling very very old)

:) writing type

. fem exclusive no men = wlw

. smut, fluff, angst, g!p, dom/sub, kinks, bdsm etc

. write only with characters i know

:) requests : OPEN

. feel free to ask me anything as long as it's detailed

. don't be shy with the smut

:) fanfiction masterlist : WORK IN PROGRESS

english is not my first language :)

[wiinestories]

#RELICUNIQUES .

a private, indie crime multimuse roleplay blog, with some period elements thrown in the mix. consisting of canon & ocs.

info, muses & rules in the carrd. please read rules before interacting.

▶ fandoms: cyberpunk 2077, blade runner, atomic blonde, john wick & more.

▶ mature themes present. 20+ only.

▶ narrated by rosy, 25, spain. gmt +2

▶ tracking: #RELICUNIQUES.

[yanderestarangel]

♡‧₊˚✧˖°💌 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲 | 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐭𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

TW: ftm reader, v!sex, oral (f!re), dirty talk, afab anatomy, reader is a femboy, wearing skirts, sex without a condom, praise, rough sex, dom!homelander, dark concept, degradation, dom!homelander, male x male, porn plot, smut, use of aphrodisiac, creampie.

A/N : finally a request from homelander! yey! For some reason Tumblr doesn't let me answer my asks anymore, but hey- I took a screenshot of all the ones I'm going to make >< so sorry if your order isn't notified!

⸺ It was a miracle that you caught the attention of the most feared man in all of America, the most powerful man in the entire world, Homelander.

You were just a normal kid who worked at Vougth's main headquarters, taking care of the schedules of some secondary supers; however, you soon felt the pair of oceanic blue eyes burn you - the infamous hero staring at you from afar, practically fucking you with just one look, he drank in all your curves - from the stockings that squeezed your thighs, to the short skirt that you wore, in addition to the breasts shyly hidden through the blouse you wore.

You had awakened something in him, something he didn't know how to put into words, he was always a more submissive man in bed but you made all his sexual fantasies create another type of direction, he wanted to fuck you like a beast - like a hungry animal, beautifully destroy every piece of your delicate body and make you his boy.

So, you were lovingly notified with a mild threat from the company board, either you had a meeting with the hero of the seven, or you lost your job.

And you didn't hesitate to choose the first option. The meeting was at a luxurious restaurant in the city, closed to just the two of you, the hero seemed more polished, more... Different? An improved version of the man you saw fighting with everything and everyone in the buildings every day - the smell of fresh cologne coming off him also made you try to close your thighs, feeling your core get wet every time you saw his muscles flex under the fabric tight blue uniform, you had never paid due attention to him, so it surprised you to see him so... Attractive, as if a new light was placed in your eyes and mind, as if with each touch you wanted more and more - perhaps the aphrodisiac he put in his perfume would have helped, but you would never know it.

He was a gentleman, treating you like a prince, like his prince - carrying you in his strong arms to his apartment, you were adorable, and you were as he expected you to be: shy and wet. Your sweet scent of excitement and desire filled every atom around him, so it wasn't difficult for Homelander to convince you to let him into your house... It was too easy, even, and as soon as the door closed, a predatory smile covered his features. of the blonde man, as he towered over you like a mountain.

"-Are you nervous baby? there's no need.. I'm going to make you feel good pretty boy... lift that skirt for me... now." You couldn't help but feel weak in the knees as you did as he told you without protest, exposing your wet, needy flesh for him and for him. Homelander smiled, his piercing blue eyes fixed on your exposed, glistening pussy. He moved closer, his presence looming over you, radiating power and dominance- His hand reached out, his fingers brushing the lace of your panties.

"-Good boys are rewarded... Now, let's see how wet you really are." he whispered hoarsely, his voice sending shivers down your spine. His touch was electrifying as he slowly pushed your panties to the side, exposing your throbbing clit and your slick folds to his hungry gaze. "-Such a receptive little slut for me" His fingers dug into your flesh with more force than they should have, leaving bruises that would later turn into sickly beautiful property marks - his tongue tracing slow circles around your entrance before dipping deep inside you. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—his warm, wet tongue probing and teasing your sensitive folds, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your entire body.

You arched your back involuntarily against the cool concrete wall, moaning softly as he devoured every inch of your tight cunt. The lust was overwhelming, the sensations intensified by the knowledge that this sadistic hero could have anything and anyone he wanted, but he chose you - Moans fell freely from your lips as he continued to pleasure you, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to take your to the limit. Each stroke, each movement of his tongue, sent waves of ecstasy through your body, elevating your arousal to new heights.

You couldn't help but grip his hair, encouraging him, your breathing becoming ragged as you neared the peak of pleasure. Homelander sensed your imminent release and intensified his efforts, his tongue working faster, his fingers slipping inside you to increase the stimulation.

"-You like that don't you? Having me worship you?" he said with a roguish smile, eating you from the outside with even more intensity - however, when you were about to cum, the blonde took his tongue out of your pussy, making you feel a practically painful burning, begging on your knees like a puppy for him to fuck you soon, like the good boy you were.

Homelander's dominance over you intensified as he pinned you face down on the bed, his strong grip holding your head gently against the mattress - the pressure against your face felt a thrill of submission through your body, fueling your desire and excitement, you could feel his hard cock pressing against your ass, teasingly grazing your entrance with each movement. "-You like it rough, don't you, pretty boy..." he growled, his voice dripping with unmistakable horny.

"-You want me to fuck you until you can't walk straight, don't you?" Homelander's thrusts grew more intense and you could feel the pain building inside you - the pain sent waves of ecstasy through your body.

Your screams and moans filled the room, music to Homelander's sadistic desires. He leaned close to your ear, his voice dripping with a dark intensity. "-Do you think it hurts now, doll boy? Wait until I'm done with you," he whispered, his words fueling the fire of submission in your veins.

"-I'll take care of you, every inch of you, after I'm satisfied." Homelander's thrusts became more erratic, his breathing irregular, his balls hit your clit messily, making you breathless, with each slap on your ass or even the rough and sloppy way he squeezed your soft breasts, using the fabric of your skirt to further leverage each wild rhythm of your hips.

"-Fuck boy-! You take me so good... Good boy- good boy, just cum for me with that slutty pussy." When Homelander's thrusts reached a feverish level, he squeezed your head once again, his fingers digging into your hair. He growled deeply, a primal sound of pleasure as he reached his climax -- with one final, powerful thrust, he released himself inside you, filling you with his cum. You felt the heat of his release, mixing with your own wetness, as he continued to reach his orgasm. A feeling of satisfaction washed over him, and he slowly withdrew from you, his grip on his head finally loosening -- Homelander kissed your body tenderly, his lips tracing your skin, marking you as his.

"-You were a good slut, baby prince", he murmured, his voice filled with a possessiveness, giving you chaste kisses on the back and loving pats on your red ass from his own slaps. "-And I always take care of what's mine... Good boy..."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[diorcities]

dumb blond

pairing: park jisung x afab!reader.

genre: smut.

content: jisung's a pervert, oral sex, unprotected sex (jisung pulls out), choking, hair pulling, manhandling, riding, slight cum play.

wc: 1,5k (didn't count this time)

after inviting your boyfriend to your dorm room to keep you company while you were studying, you realized that maybe it wasn't the best decision you've ever made. you had asked him to help memorize the elements of the periodic table, but one thing led to another, and after getting bored, your boyfriend decided to change the rules of the game.

"it could be anything," he says simply. explaining the ways of his guessing game, where you'll get whatever you want if you get the answer right. so he waits, running his fingers over the pages, even when he already knows the answer. how he likes it when you're vocal. "what if i get it wrong?" you want to know. he shrugs. "then i get something."

he leans back against the headboard, making room between his legs for you. facing him, his gaze runs over the notebook.

"bromo."

shit.

he watches you lose your mind, hacking away in bits and pieces in search of the answer. "33?". he clicks his tongue. "too bad, gorgeous," he pities you, "now, strip."

your eyes widen at his words. almost speechless, but thinking about it. your hands go to your shirt, starting to lift the fabric up to the top of your head until you're down to your bra. you catch him looking too much at the exposed area. "atomic mass?" he asks, clearing his throat.

"jisung," you groan, rolling your eyes. he laughs. "you know the rules."

even when you lost at convenience, and getting exactly what you wanted, there was still a desire to win; reluctantly, you pull off your pajama shorts. "let's go on..." he says, but you cut him off. "you forgot the symbol," you remind him. crawling toward him, you say, inches from his face, "gotcha. it's br."

he smiles, satisfied, before you pull him into a kiss, humming softly as you feel his velvety tongue lazily play with yours.

"carbon."

"c," you reply. "atomic number 6." "atomic mass." with each answer, jisung leaves lingering kisses on your lips, until it is impossible to answer. he leans over you, causing his glasses to slide down his septum and hit your forehead gently. "12,011," you add eventually.

"mercury."

"hg. take off your shirt." you don't know if he's doing it on purpose, putting the easiest elements on you so you can guess them. at this point, he's not even looking at the notebook to make sure you're right. it lies open on the bed, oblivious. "atomic number," he asks. in his eyes dances the flame of mischief and amusement. pupils dilate in his crescent eyes as he smiles when he sees that you don't know the answer. "lie down on the bed." you do as he asks, watching him hover over you.

"antimony."

"ji...," you wail. "you should know better. you've been studying since the afternoon," he suddenly excuses himself. "i don't know," you admit, giving up. a smirk of victory appears briefly on the boy's face before he leans over you. you close your eyes as you feel his warm breath impact your skin, which reacts to the act impulsively. his lips leave a trail of random kisses all over your naked body. "iodine," he asks now, and because your mind is completely blank, you cannot respond.

you hear jisung chuckle lightly, feeling his smile on your skin, before his hands travel to your back, which arches at his intentions, freeing your bra.

"boro." his fingers brush the lower area of your breasts, frolicking. your skin bristles at his fingers, desperate for him to finally touch you. in a lucid moment, the fog in your head from the carousel of emotions disperses. "b."

"tell me what you want," he pronounces. his voice has become thick and husky, his brown eyes consumed in their entirety by his black pupil. you take his hand between yours, curling your palm around his index and middle finger, bringing his hand right where you want it.

jisung holds your chest, contemplating your bristling skin, before beginning to trace patterns on the sensitive surface.

"aluminum." his movements stop, and it's complete torture. your mouth feels dry and you feel dazed for a few seconds. "shit... a?" you try. jisung purses his lips and slowly denies “al, atomic mass 26.981539." he moves closer to you, and you think he's going to kiss you, but his lips drop down and miss yours before you feel his wet mouth around your nipple. you let out a gasp, as your hands shoot up into his hair. his head makes light movements as his teeth gently bite your skin. his kisses move to the next, using his hand to caress your other breast as his mouth does wonders for your sanity.

"ji..." you whisper, feeling your body beg for his. his face pulls away from your chest and down, and down, and down. "hydrogen," he says, and you know he's letting you have it easy. when your mouth utters an answer you're no longer sure is right or wrong, you add, "take off your pants."

you see him turn away from you to do as you ask. your gaze sweeps over his slender figure, before stopping on the bulge that is marked on his underwear, threatening to rip the fabric of his pants. your body moves out of self-consciousness, pulling you closer to him. jisung holds still as you scatter kisses across his lower abdomen. your eyes seek his gaze, already contemplating you from above. his thumb caresses your cheek as you decide to release his length, which hits his stomach, erect.

shit, you never get tired of admiring it.

jisung's hands go to your hair. on his wrist lies your hair tie, which he uses to put your hair into a messy ponytail. your heart skip a beat when you remember the other times he did the same because he has a thing for your hair tied up when he's fucking you.

"put it in your mouth," he encourages you, "i know you can." and that's all he has to say, for you to wrap your mouth around his cock using your hand to make circles each time it goes in and out. you bob your head up and down, hearing the little husky sounds jisung makes, urging you to keep doing it. his length jolts slightly as you pull it out of your mouth, making jisung moan in disagreement. you don't have time to react as he hovers over you and pushes you onto the bed, pressing your back against the mattress.

you see him hold his member in his hand, while the other remains holding your thigh, to one side of his hip. you feel it press on your entrance, a current shakes your body. your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pushes into your hips slowly, his cock expanding you for him. your arousal allows it to enter easily, stopping momentarily, and you are already seeing stars. your legs wrap around his back, pulling him towards you. jisung buries himself deeper, and your body reacts by arching. mouth open letting out a choked moan. his hand goes to your neck, squeezing slightly. you hear him laugh. "i haven't even started and you're already like this." before gently thrusting into you. “do you want it all, gorgeous?” he asks, and you nod two, three, four times. you want to feel it all complete. you want all of him.

jisung's lunges make you see galaxies. he penetrates you again and again, with harsh and hungry movements. his grip keeps you firm under him, as he destroys you with every thrust of his hips. touching the sweet spot of your pussy, without ease. he grunts and breathes, squeezing the soft flesh of your thigh, holding it at an angle that gives him more access to your abused cunt. your mouth produces nonsense sounds, brainwashed. an electric current whipping through your senses, skin-deep, before he stops. his hands turn you around effortlessly. you blink dazedly and lethargic, feeling his teeth bite into your ass cheek before he aligns on you again. you smile blissfully as he grabs your hair and continues to pounce on you, pressing your hips into him, he pushes you down, placing you in the position he pleases. you support your weight with your hands, burying your head in the mattress as jisung burrows into your cervix.

his rhythmic thrusts change pace, fucking you with slow, hard strokes. his moans accompanying his movements. yours join. feeling faint from the exhilarating sensations, desperate, eager for more. you start to move your hips against his. the impact clouds your senses and sends spasms through your extremities. "do you want to ride it?" you nod awkwardly. you almost squirm as he pulls himself out of your heat, but you fall silent as he sits next to you, waiting. you climb up on your hindquarters as best you can, swinging one leg over his waist. jisung helps you balance on him. aligning his cock his with your entrance. he glided hastily, moaning in sync.

you kiss the soft skin of his shoulders and neck, while you feel his arms around your waist. the feeling of him completely inside you is so intense and overwhelming, that it causes you to tighten your legs around his hips instinctively. your walls contract and jisung jerks his head back, before you begin to rock your hips, eventually bobbing up and down.

jisung holds you while he looks at you from below, your body in a desirable and sensual swing. he swears his vision blurs when he watches you. your face contracts before the carousel of delight that you are sharing. observing him moan for you, closing his eyes because the feeling is so overwhelming, but opening them again because he doesn't want to lose an instant of you, drinking in your sight.

"shit… ji, 'mgonna c-cum." your nails dig into his skin. his mouth finds your jaw and neck, and he sucks gently, marking you as his. "fu-uck, me too." his confession only makes you move faster. your moan dies in his mouth as he kisses you, before leaning back to get a better view of your hips colliding with his. the act allows you to lean back, holding on to his legs, bouncing mercilessly on his dick. feeling your muscles tense more and more. feeling a tingle followed by your mind clouding over and your walls tightening by wrapping up his length.

you hear jisung growl, and it's all you need to release in shock waves. a current bathes your body as you reach your climax, and spasms attack you in waves as you don't stop moving your hips, stimulating the sensitive zone. you feel jisung tense under your weight, finally reaching his orgasm. you take out his member that squirms as he empties his seed on himself. you use your hand to stimulate him as he cum, hearing him hiss at the sensation. with slow, firm strokes, you milk his cock for him until the boy is a bundle of soft moans. his length falls limp on your pelvic crease. you lick the residue from your fingers and do the same with his cock tenderly, savoring the taste of him.

jisung invites you to lie on his chest, welcoming you warmly as you listen to the erratic beating of his heart, becoming calmer and calmer. "even though i love this plot development, i still have to study for my test," you mutter, "how am i supposed to say that the atomic mass of aluminum is 26.98?" you remember, getting up to take your notebook and take a look.

jisung laughs.

"981539," he recites, as your eyes sweep over the number. your mouth opens in awe because he got it right. you look at him with a vicious look. "do you want to play again?"

[lovelytsunoda]

the man with the hex // liam lawson

summary: he stayed to hand out candy but actually just wanted to make out. unfortunately, hungry kids won’t wait to ring the doorbell.

pairing: liam lawson x female! reader

warnings: allusions to sex, liam is a horny teenager, very suggestive but no smut, reader gets baby fever real fast and liam has a dirty mouth. I am incapable of writing anything wholesome about this man, apparently.

"jesus fuck!"

"y/n y/m/n y/l/n, watch your language!" her mother shouted from the kitchen

next to her on the couch, liam snickered, pulling her closer. guillermo del toro's 'cabinet of curiosities' was playing on the screen, and y/n had been jumpy throughout the whole episode.

y/n was a gentle soul. she preferred cozy mysteries, and humorous action thrillers as opposed to straight up horror. sure, the pillars of the slasher genre were wonderful films (she's first in line to see any new 'scream' movie), but she did not do well when she was genuinely scared.

"sorry, mom!" she shouted, resting her head against liam's shoulder. "liam has bad taste in movies."

"it's one episode!" the kiwi laughed. "i'm sorry, you can pick the next movie."

y/n rolled her eyes, getting up from the couch to hug her parents goodbye. she and liam had agreed to stay in that night, allowing her parents to go to an annual charity event thrown by one of her fathers friends. her sister was at a party, and as someone who had a quiet, peaceful life and wasn’t always invited to things, y/n was extended a chance to stay at home.

of course, learning that they would have the house to themselves, liam was all too quick to tag along, for less than wholesome reasons. while y/n had planned a couple's movie night, complete with matching hotel transylvania costumes and a stack of scooby doo movies, wheras liam had planned to get her to scream in more ways than one.

y/n got up from the couch, her nylon-clad feet skidding across the hardwood as she went to hug her parents. "bye guys, i'll see you in the morning."

"have a great time, mr. and mrs. (your last intital)!" liam shouted

"no funny business with my daughter, lawson. and no drinking." her father scolded, pointing his finger towards his daughter's boyfriend.

"dad! we're adults, i think we can handle ourselves." she laughed, giving her father a hug before her parents went out the front door.

she closed the door behind them, leaving it unlocked and the jack-o-lantern on the front porch turned on before backtracking to the kitchen and refilling the candy dish she and liam had been snacking from.

"you'll have to keep an ear out for the front door, but other than that, do you want to put beetlejuice on when this is over?" she suggested, bringing the candy bowl back over to the couch and curling into her boyfriend.

"i dunno, your parents are gone, i kind of hand something else on my mind." liam grinned, one hand trailing up her thigh.

"oh yeah?" she purred, maneuvering herself into liam's lap, poking his nose before kissing him softly, her blue lipstick smearing against his skin.

liam cupped her face with his free hand, his other arm going around her waist to pull her closer. she hummed contentedly as she nestled her body into his, taking his top lip in between her own.

“your lipstick tastes good.” liam remarked, lips ringed in the dark blue cosmetic. “like blue raspberry.”

“you’re such a dork.” she giggled, brushing an errant blonde hair out of his face before kissing her lover again.

liam moaned into it, feeling himself grow harder every time that her thigh brushed over his crotch. she was driving him wild, the end of cabinets of curiosities forgotten as they made out like teenagers.

the doorbell rang, startling them both as they jolted on the couch. y/n pulled away from liam, wiping the smudged gloss from her swollen lips before getting off the couch and reaching for the bowl of cadbury chocolates across from her.

“trick or treat!”

there were three kids standing in the doorstep, each dressed as a different superhero as they held pillowcases out in front of them as she dropped handfuls of pocket sized chocolates into the bags.

“you kids have a great night.” she chirped, waving not just to the kids, but to the parents waiting on the sidewalk before slipping back into the house.

she left the plastic candy dish on the front bench, a grin on her face as she went back to the living room. liam hadn’t mailed from the couch, one hand over his eyes and the other clutching a throw pillow over his crotch.

“seriously, liam?” she laughed, reaching for the tv remote. “come on, we have to be aware of our surroundings. little kids are going to be knocking on the door all night.”

liam groaned. “sounds like hell to me, babe.”

she shook her head, grinning as she used the remote to navigate over to the amazon icon to rent ‘beetlejuice.” she was just about to hit rent when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist.

“liam!” she shouted, giggling as he nuzzled his cold nose into the tender flesh of her neck. “you know you’re just gonna get interrupted again, right?”

“don’t care.” he hummed, pressing kisses up and down her throat. “babe, we finally have the house to ourselves and I am so fucking horny for you right now.”

she giggled, extracting herself from liam’s hold to teasingly bend down near the coffee table, placing the realtor back on the glass top. at the sight of her skirt riding up over her orange and black nylon tights, the lacy hem of her panties visible through the nylon as she bent over, the kiwi could hardly contain himself.

especially when there was another ring of the doorbell.

this time, liam offered to get the door, almost dropping the candy bowl as he tried to get the door open, shaking hands unable to grasp the doorknob as be tried to get his breathing under control.

“woah, are you liam lawson?” one of the kids shouted, his voice echoing through the street. “I watched you on tv last week!”

despite himself, liam laughed. “right on, kiddo!” he held his fist out for a fist bump, kneeling to the kids level. “hang on just a second and I’ll get my girlfriend out here to take a picture of the two of us, yeah?”

“you seem cheerful for a man that didn’t want to hand out candy.” y/n chuckled from the doorway. “come on then, pass me his iPod touch or whatever and I’ll get the best fan pics he’s ever seen.”

the kids eyes lit up as liam moved to crouch next to him, matching his height almost exactly as y/n snapped a few pictures.

“your girlfriend is really pretty.” the kid said, giddy as he took his iPod back. “are you guys going to get married?”

liam laughed heartily, tactfully avoiding the question as he asked the kid what his favourite part of the race in qatar had been, dropping a handful of cadbury chocolates into the mummy shaped bucket.

once the kid was gone and the door was closed, he wasted no time in pulling y/n close and sliding his hands up her dress.

“someone’s eager. if anyone should be exited after watching you interact with kids, it should be me.” she giggled, kissing his cheek.

her lipstick was dry now, and liam found himself slightly disappointed that it didn’t leave a mark.

liam raised an eyebrow. “oh, yeah? so in addition to making you scream my name tonight, should I fill you up with my cum? start practicing for when it’s time to get you pregnant?”

she nodded eagerly, wishing for nothing more than liam pressing her up against the foyer wall and taking what he wanted. what they both wanted.

“fuck.” liam breathed, his breath warm on her skin. “you’re really hot when you have baby fever, you know that? and that kid wasn’t even a baby, he was like five.”

“shut up and kiss me, lawson.”

but just as liam leaned in, the fucking doorbell rang.

he cursed, throwing his head back in a groan as y/n gave him a sympathetic smile. she picked up the candy bucket, dutifully opening the front door and greeting the horde of kids who had chased each other up the driveway and around liams bmw.

while her back was turned, distracted by handing out candy, liam reached his breaking point, scrambling to find a piece of paper and a pen.

please take one handful each, and ring the doorbell if bowl is empty. we are home but enjoying a scary movie night and my girlfriend is jumpy :)

when y/n turned away, closing the door behind her, liam was quick to grab the bowl, whisking it away to the kitchen and ignoring his girlfriends confused look as he practically overfilled the bowl, taking on the sign and leaving it on the cast iron bench outside the house.

“now, where were we?” he grinned, pulling her in for a kiss. she broke out into a smile, knowing exactly why liam had done what he did. “that bowl is almost full, it will keep the kids occupied for a very long time.”

“what if someone takes the whole bowl? what then?” she giggled, playfully teasing her lover, hands gently rubbing at his shoulder blades.

“then I’ll buy your mom a new one.” he decided, paying the matter very little attention as he swept his girlfriend off her feet, carrying her bridal style towards the stairs. “now, my fair maiden, you bedroom awaits.”

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @httpiastri @clemswrld @love4lando @scuderiamh @lorarri @cartierre @silverstonesainz @arshiyuh @twinkodium

[killerbananas]

Clouded

Your sensual madness is something Erwin adores.

🔞 mdni | masterlist | 992 wc | afab!reader x Erwin

Warnings: smut; masturbation, PIV, drunk sex (ergo dubcon), creampie, breeding allusions, very Emotional

AN: Repost from my old account. This is some of my most abstract writing so please know it may not be your flavor (I wrote this absolutely smashed and edited only lightly).

Your body feels as though pliant liquid in the sheets that caress your body like a lover's kiss. Your hips undulating against the fabric as it slides along your skin while you writhe. Your breasts heave with a heavy breath that brings your chest high and lets your nipples crest upward. Nothing is stopping how good you feel in this moment and you naturally turn sideways and then to your stomach, finding rhythm on your fingers to pinch swipe press roll and even twist your clit until your essence slides to your fingers beneath you like dripping honey, succulent sticky sweet.

Your entire being is focused on finding release and relief and pleasure and molten fluttering godless rapture in equal measure. It’s impossible to think. Things have been murky since you left your house, your temporary house? Something felt intangibly unstable about your residence but fuck did words escape you. You needed a goddamn earthquake in your cunt or you were going to ungather at an atomic level.

It’s here he finds you, desolate and wanting, wet slick and fucked on your fingers nearly raw. But you need every centimeter of him inside you once you find him there. Once you see him. When you realize there is a fucking solution to the madness ripping you apart and it is Him. He worries for your wild passion, but he starts to understand quickly, helping to quell the sheer force that ensnares your body in ardour. His blonde hair rasps your fingers like frothing tides that bind your bodies in tortuous waves crashing torrential collisions. You do not know where is up but you are full to bursting with Erwin. His cock is inside your sweet walls that hold him close in a lover’s grasp. As if he’s the glue to your universe and the only sanity holding your bones together but with the stitching of steel that his confidence lends in droves as he fucks you alive, whole, full, healthy.

Light halos his hair as whispering temptations to seek a brightness you cannot touch without irreparable, fatal implications, to touch the sun. But he is between your legs and you will have the fill that insatiates your appetite to gargantuan propensities as if to flick your sexual psyche to violins playing a warrior’s tale.

He presses forward into your sopping cunt with a length that burns and the symphony pitches wild in your ears. You cannot control how you choose to receive him. You body caves to the invasion of something so splittingly large you can almost not compete with the stretch it necessitates. But you wouldn’t have it any other way as he completes you with every inch of himself. To know him this way connects you so naturally that your body cannot help but submit to his every whim as he subliminally commands it.

He craves and he will do as he sees fit, like scowering your cunt because he wants to have every inch of you marked. When you’re out about your day your cunt should weep with his come. Every moment without being inside you is torture to his being and he rectifies it with sturdy jams into the softness you willingly present him. That is your cunt being speared by his length for what feels like hours as his cock stirs molasses between your thighs as a concoction you want to choke on he is so incensing. You do not know where his battering bruises end and your soul or being begins. He is so deep you feel as though there is no difference where your breaths synchronize in aphrodisiac whimpers that thrum as a war drum in your chest.

He conquers your body and resides inside you with a parasitical harmony that shreds and glues your psyche with equal dissonance and nirvana. You would accept no less from the god between your plush thighs that promises pleasure of his cock for as long as you’ll have him as you give your very womb over to the virile creature you choose to willingly house at your apex. His balls draw into a tightness that blinds his lungs of breath and mind of thought as he drives deep. He wants to fuse your beings as though a cosmic rip may render life more meaningful if he pushes only a centimeter deeper into your soft cunt. He wants to solve every problem in his body ache to wail and wound to fatality with the leaking essence your body grieves to him in pleasure unbounded.

He doesn’t judge as you pull upward in a tensing arc that replicates the swell of merciful relief lapping your sense of self as you curl into his stomach, a warm retreat for your tender limbs. He is a comfort like the freeing sunlight on a cold winter. He titillates your senses with every movement and gesture as he crests within your womb. A fulfilling radiance shines in your mind as he releases, seed seeking purchase into the rendered Life you proffer with raised hips.

Erwin falls forward into your arms as you are only full of the sense of Him. His contours cover you as he lays down gently with your form on the mattress. Lips wisp ballads of kindnesses professed in blissed cerebral ichor that cloy your lungs with affection so bright you nearly burn at an internal smoulder. You are so overwhelmed that water brims your eyes as traitorous fear leaving you in visible droplets Erwin catches with his ready thumbs that swipe love into your visage. He wishes, swishes a calm into your body that pairs with the release he has consistently tapped into your bud with precision of a lover overcome with care for another. He presses himself deeper and closer with your flutters that continue to milk him like a suckling desire of wholeness that blisters your being in need.

He answers, all of him a balm on your ache.

Taglist: @aotwarriorsimp @alexpro-nwn @animediplomat @antoxsmith @armoredpotato @aviinnit @beffjurky @blondeboyfriend @casuallyck @cherrxs @dearbaji @erwinsbaby @eyesucket @fairypiku @fandomficsobsession @fujoneshi @holographicceo @hinasakuino @interfectio-mortales @kenryug @koulakoukoula2003 @kxkyuu-main @lavenderdaisyhoney   @mybadluckshouldmakemefamous @chaotic-nick @nathalunalune @notgoodforlife @arsonszn @pockcock @poursomesunaonme @scouts-stuff @seychellse @shigarakiapologist @soaringmirror @sparklekitteh @stigandr-the-cat @syrma-sensei @reiners-milkbiddies @tiffanyy-21 @tonaken @torapologist @touyyes @we-are-so-close

[cuntycheol]

Passion Pallette (Y.JH)

Summary: You need an inspiration for your next artwork. Luckily Jeonghan has a lot to spare.

Genre: Artist!Reader x BF!Jeonghan

Themes/Warnings: Boyfie, slight long hair Jeonghan (we must prioritize his sexy lil evil mind babygirls) , the following contains NSFW content(heavy on smut, straight to the point, love use of cameras, , mature language, overall it's just things we good girlies want men like Jeonghan to do) MINORS DNI!

Songs- Angels by Chase Atlantic, So Wet by Elita, Often by TheWeeknd, Feel That by Junny, 34+35 Ariana Grande, Close with Desires by Thuy, Wet by Jooyoung&Superbee,

WC: 3.5K

A/N: Happy Hannie Day<3 speciaIly for our 1004 boy. Tbh I don't think so I'll ever be sane when Jeonghan's got black hair. Blonde Hannie drives me bonkers but HIM? I would devour every single pride of his phhhew~~ enjoy this lowkey philosophical scrumptious piece caratdeuls!! Hanniehae💜💜

"Fuuu-uuck This won't do" you let out an agitated, low yet soft grumble resonates in thick air among stenches of erasers, fresh papers, acrylics and graphite pencils.

With tousled hair and pencil smudges on your hands, Y/N definitely embodied the tormented artist archetype in a world where questionable AI and digital art has taken over. Your eyes darted critically across each failed attempt, a mix of determination and irritation etched on her face. Despite the exasperation, your sketches hinted at an inexplainable beauty that seemed to elude your grasp. The past hour unfolded with a string of complaints, grappling with the current sketches, that seem to fall short of expectations in a creative mind disrupted by the stark reality of the artistic struggle.

Meanwhile Yoon Jeonghan, your smart-mouth, overly encouraging, sharp yet short-tempered boyfriend provided a contrast as the calm in your artistic tempest; occupying the quiet corner of the room perched on the bed in his usual white shirt-grey sweatpants, with his phone in hand and snacks as companions.

It wasn't a brand new thing for him to see you covered in pencil smudges, a few shavings stuck to your wooly clothing and beads of sweat, followed by smears of paint intact on your skin. Swallowing the last bits and dusting the crumbs off his finger, Jeonghan, engrossed in whatever had captured his attention on the screen, abruptly paused. He clears his throat, as a sign for you to turn around in his chair, and lean back, both of your hands on the arms of the chair; a worn-out disappointed expression plastered on your face meeting Jeonghan's unaffected lazy sunday cool and chill vibes, all while fidgeting a pencil between your fingers.

Somehow, a minuscule atom of irritation seemed to dissipate from your demeanor just by seeing him exist.

He arched an eyebrow with a playful smirk gracing his lips "Perhaps the profound muse for your next masterpiece lies in the gripping scenario of that snobby neighbor attempting to assemble something, which seems like a drawer to me. That's interesting. Hanging a hammer be pulling his jeans though" Curious, you turned your head to observe exactly whatever Jeonghan had claimed the neighbor to be doing. Tucking a strand of his newly growing hair behind his ear, he wore a lazy smile on his everlastingly beautiful face.

He continues, "well, since you're seeking for your savior, I'd say you take a good look around this room. Maybe your next stroke of genius could be inspired by the epic tale of my lone sock that always goes missing in the laundry. A true masterpiece in the making" He bites into his crackers whilst he rubs his chin and you roll your eyes, silently comply according to his suggestion. Your gaze shifts from the failed crumples of sketches on these white sheets, to the walls adorned with your vibrant creations among ivory canvases.

You realize that you do,have a discernable mood to your work. Your artistic endeavors, mostly landscapes with a touch of fantasy or nature, displayed a restraint from the chaotic realm of "multicolors on a canvas." Unless a particular idea sparked your imagination, your aesthetic embraced simplicity, classic elegance, and a penchant for monochrome. Safe to say your aesthetic was always something that's not too much work. Something that radiates simplicity, classic and monochrome.

Your distinctive perspectives, where focus and pressure converged on the canvas, propelled you towards an 8-week apprenticeship among renowned artists in the enchanting city of Paris. During this artistic sojourn, you didn't just participate; you left an indelible mark with your meticulous approach and unwavering passion.

Jeonghan as well tagged along your journey. He possesses an enchantment for photography, turning moments of your artistic journey into captured treasures. His lens became a portal to the nuances of your triumphs, framing the dedication etched on your face during meticulous strokes, the palpable joy of artistic breakthroughs, and the undeniable chemistry between you and your boyfriend amid the vibrant backdrop of Paris. What went on in the streets were no secret, but what went under those sheets certainly were.

Each photograph was a narrative, telling the story of your artistic evolution. The peculiar enchantment of Jeonghan's photography wasn't just in freezing moments; it was in capturing the soulful connection between artist and muse, the shared joy, and the unspoken dialogues spoken through brushstrokes and stolen glances. Among these visual tales, a particular photograph held a special place. Attached near your Paris Masterpiece artwork, it became a center of the collage photo-set. This photograph encapsulated a moment of shared triumph, where you and Jeonghan, in the city of love, converged in a harmonious blend of creativity. The collage itself became a visual symphony, each candid frame resonating with the echoes of your artistic journey, all with the ever-present, enchanting gaze of Jeonghan.

Your boyfriend's sharp remarks were that each of your piece has always radiated not just simplicity but a timeless beauty, where the pressure on the material seemed to extract the essence of your creative soul.

However, on this particular day, a subtle roadblock seemed to challenge your artistic flow, leaving you searching for that elusive spark amidst the familiar canvases that held the stories of your passion and precision.

Following Jeonghan's suggestion, you survey the room until your eyes land on him. He's immersed in his phone, savoring the crumbs off his lips with a casual yet endearing demeanor. In that moment, a realization dawns – a silent connection between the imperfect sketches scattered around, the vibrant stories on the walls, and the living work of art himself, your boyfriend, on the bed.

He, the constant cheerleader, has observed your artistic reverie. According to his shrewd observations, whenever you zoned out, you stood in a particular position-arms crossed, head tilted at a precise 75 degrees, and your lower lip caught between your teeth. All accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of your right foot. According to him, it's the hottest and weirdest thing ever.

"What?" He questions, because at this point you've most certainly lost in your thoughts. He rise on his knees,adjusting his waistband while calling your nicknames. eyes still didn't move. "Y/N? Hey Y/N? Babe? Baby!!" His soft vocals exhaust on the common affectionate names he often calls. Finally, you snap out, a downward smile suggesting a revelation.

You meet Jeonghan's gaze with eyes that now hold a bright spark, silently claiming, "Well, I have an idea." Clasping your hands together, you take a deliberate breath, a pencil poised smirk slowly overshadows your expression, "I've found my muse. And it's you!"

Jeonghan, who was now sipping the life out of his juice raises an eyebrow as loud as an 'objection' in court, "Oh, have You now? Think you can capture my snack-induced radiance." You flash him a teethy grin, "I don't think so, I know so. Your carefree vibe is a challenge, but there's nothing I can't do."

Jeonghan can be a hassle sometimes. When he willingly agrees to something, he plays hard to get. It's so frustrating at some point you have to fuck it out of him. It makes him equally attractive and annoying. You toss your book onto the white blankets, with the title "Simplicity meets Seduction" which is a part of your new artwork theme. Lets be honest, nothing ignites the fire- a lava in you unless it's Jeonghan. The warmth of lust pools in your body whenever he gazes at you, touches you. You don't boost his ego much but the way he handles you, forces you to do add some catalyst in his already sky-high mentality. He's equally the meanest and the kindest person you've ever known.

"Simplicity and seduction, interesting" he scoffs "you definitely know how to take a challenge. Since you're adamant, I'll let you do the honors. Ask and you shall receive my permission for a tester sketch" he fixes his posture, grabbing a lollipop from the jar of candies he loves to keep at bedside. You lean towards him, capturing his now frozen body between your arms, and meet him at eye-level, "Hannie, do you mind being my model for my artwork.." you move towards his ear for a whisper "please?"

The effect is immediate – a swallowed gulp, a beetroot red face, and his gaze darting toward the window as if seeking refuge in the bright corner of your creativity sanctum, all while holding the lollipop between his lips, contemplating the fragility of his sanity.

With a wicked grin, you add, "Oh, I can already see the artistic brilliance oozing from this 'tester' sketch. Brace yourself for your immortalization, Hannie."

Sitting between Jeonghan's legs for the next hour, capturing every meticulous details. Defined face, long lashes, gravity defying, soft loose strings of hair. Cheekbones subtly accentuated, with the faint mole that adds the sophistication. He looked a whispered tale of care.

Throughout the process, Jeonghan couldn't help but steal glances at you, his gaze lingering on your focused eyes and the loose button-up cardigan that slipped off your shoulders, revealing collarbones equivalent to a blank canvas begging to be painted.

"Here," you say, breaking the artistic spell, showing him your sketchbook. "Took you forever...phewweee" you hand it over, both of your hands linger dangerously close to his middle, a move that was evidently driving him crazy. Another strong gulp betrays his inner turmoil as he shifts his gaze to the book, his lips parting in anticipation.

When he sees your work, his eyes widen, and for a moment, he's utterly speechless. The sketch, beyond expectations, captures not just the physical features but the essence of Jeonghan's charisma. The defined face, the playfulness in his eyes, a shade of graphite to enhance the blush he had earlier, the tousled crown of hair – it's a mirror reflecting the unique cocktail of sophistication and mischief that makes Jeonghan, well, Jeonghan.

He continues to examine the sketch with an appraiser's eye, and his expression shifts from playful to genuinely impressed. "This is more than just a sketch. It's like you captured the essence of a moment, frozen in time. The daisy, the playful expression – it's a piece that breathes life."

As he sticks it over the headboard, he adds, "Perfection deserves a place of honor. And this, my dear, is perfection." His compliment is laden with a sense of appreciation that goes beyond mere words.

"This is simplicity at its finest, and you know how it meets seduction?" He smirks, that is a signal of danger His tone holds a hint of admiration, his eyes lingering on the sketch as if unraveling its secrets. "Follow"

As you follow him, his grasp on your wrist adds an unexpected thrill and the exact "warmth of lust" pools in your veins. He leads you to his perfect yet contained studio.

"You're an artist with a wicked touch, turning the ordinary into a seductive masterpiece." He continues, each remark a dance of words that adds another layer to the charged atmosphereIn his studio, surrounded by the remnants of his photographic pursuits, Jeonghan's remarks don't cease. He positions his camera at a distance on the tripod, capturing the two of you against a rich, simple pearly beige background. Jeonghan's scent wraps around your senses, leaving you without control over your escalating feelings.

Standing behind you, he wraps his arms around your body, creating an embrace that feels like a hypnotic spell. It's more than a mere hug; he decides to unravel layers, unbuttoning your cardigan to expose the glistening skin of your collarbones and shoulders. Soft, sloppy kisses descend from your ear to your neck, rekindling familiar sensations. Without hesitation, he nibbles on your skin, each touch tinting it with the subtle intensity of his teeth, and a soft whimper of pleasure escapes your lips, the dance of his actions rendering you momentarily lost.

The timer he had set on the camera, ticking away while you were in a delightful haze, finally clicks, capturing the perfect shot – a half-shot from the nose. His slender fingers rest on your left side, and his mouth on your right collarbone, creating an intimate composition that radiates a sense of closeness. Another timer is set, this time his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his thumb teasingly between your lips. The camera goes off once again, capturing a moment that transcends the boundaries of conventional photography.

Jeonghan, with a voice laden with appreciation, murmurs, "This, my dear, is the beauty of our connection. Every click of the camera is a testament to the warmth we share, frozen in time for eternity. You're a canvas, and we're painting a masterpiece of shared intimacy." Once again the camera goes off. The final shot was a distance shot of his deprived lips between your breasts, while he fists your hair. Again the shot comes out perfect as ever and he didn't stop.

With a jerk he lifts you up, and kisses you feverishly. Desperation dripping the dews off the fresh grass. You could almost feel his erection had he held you a bit lower. Everything about a horny, flushed, swollen lips Jeonghan drove you insane. "Yoon Jeonghan" you moan.

"You're truly an artist" he pants, "to be making such fuckable faces"

"What's stopping you from fucking me then?"

"You're right" he smirks "it's been a while I've heard you beg, and rammed myself into that cunt of yours babygirl" Against your better judgement you began imagining it. Jeonghan's large hands squeezing your thighs, peeling them apart. His mouth on your breast, biting and sucking in turn, tongue running over your hardened nipples. Nails digging into your skin, shoulders wedging between your legs. Fingers working you open just enough to fit his dick without causing you pain, careless otherwise. Life does flash beneath your vision.

"Want it?" You could only nod in response.

Jeonghan definitely isn't the most patient one. One moment your tongues dance against each other as he keeps you distracted, while he takes you upstairs, which isn't a long journey from his studio, to the next where you're already out of breath, and lay flat naked on your bed, while he tosses his clothes off. Chilly air and his lustful gaze have your nipples hardening and a shiver running down your spine. As if he can sense your thoughts, his eyes move downwards, onto your breasts before going lower. He hums, pleased. He holds up his camera, and gets another shot, and all you see is flashes. Placing the camera aside, his attention draws all to you, for you, towards you. You could read his mind through his eyes.

 You gasp as he tugs at your legs to pull you closer. His face hovers over your covered core as you feel his warm breath and it is enough to make you lose your mind. “hannie, please.” You plead.

He grins evilly, clearly enjoying this as he presses a kiss on your covered pussy. Then his mouth trails down, between your thighs where he takes his sweet time nipping the flesh, making you whine in pleasure.

pulling back just a little and thrusting back in. “Feel good?” He breathes. You almost choke on your words. "Stop being a ppm.pp.paintbrush" He laughs; movements are slow, taking way too long to mark the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. He licks and sucks at the blooming marks and stops when a wet patch forms in your panties and your moans increase their pitch. “Desperate, aren’t we?” He whispers, hands reaching for your soaked panties to peel them off. The cool air on your core makes you shudder and release another whimper. “I- I need you Jeonghan, please.”

He hums and suddenly licks a stripe from your core to your clit, eliciting a scream of surprise from you. Your hands immediately fist in his hair to pull him closer and you are scared he is going to ask you to let him go but he doesn’t, busy sucking your pussy. He devours you with no break, tongue working skillfully to tease your opening and your clit. Your pussy gushes more and more at each of his movements as you keep chanting a series of pleases.

He slides a finger inside you, slowly, as your cunt greedily takes it all in. He curls it inside you simultaneously tonguing your clit and you wail in pleasure, tears brimming in your eyes. He enters another finger and then another before moving the three of them tirelessly inside you, curling them against your sensitive spot that has your whole body shivering. That feeling paired with him torturing your clit brings you close to your orgasm.

“J-Jeonghan…I'll cum.” You breathe and much to your disappointment, he gives you one last suck before pulling away with a satisfied smirk. “Jeonghan!” You call for him, half wanting to smack him from taking your orgasm away from you. The man has the audacity to laugh. “That’s what you get for being too perfectionist. Being mine"

"I'll blow...hnmmmmmmmmyour brains" you roll your eyes, in pleasure.

His habit of pushing your buttons to your peak irritated you so much, you muster your fucked-out energy and pull him by the neck over you, and swiftly roll yourself on top of him. Your sweaty body slithers down Jeonghan's pale, beautiful body down towards his cock, and as you promised, it was Jeonghan who was so loud with his whimpers, moans all while he was helpless and feeling his senses pop out of his ears. He was melodic. He was whiny. You loved to take him all your capable of.

Oh fuck-” Jeonghan grunts, head lolling back as you feel the grip on your hair strengthen. “Fuck, that feels so good.” His praises make your pussy leak as you start bobbing your head with new vigor, one of your hands trailing down to rub yourself, the sinful sight of Jeonghan moaning making you extremely needy. That one shiver he does, is a clear sign he's dangerously close and with a pop, you move your mouth off. He opens his eyes, moving the sticky hair off his forehead to look at you.

"Hannie" your soft voice, paired with the needy, doe-eyed look you give him is enough to make Jeonghan lose his damn mind. With a growl, he captures your lips in a bruising kiss as his hands move to line up his cock to your pussy. “You asked for it.” He warns and that’s all you get before he’s pushing his entire length inside you, a high pitched shriek falling from your lips as an overwhelming feeling of fullness consumes your entire body.

He pulls you on his chest by your arms, and rams himself in you. "Ride it" he whimpers and you do not hesitate to hold his hands and bounce on him.

With a swift turn, Jeonghan turns you, pinning you below him. He increases his pace, his sharp thrusts hitting so deep inside you, your whole body shakes. Mindless babbles fall from your lips as your hands clutch into his back tightly, your nails digging into his skin which makes Jeonghan hiss in pleasure. His sweet words paired with the way his lips venture down towards your breasts, sucking and biting while one of his hands plays with your oversensitive clit make you release a loud cry of his name.

Soon after, you come for the second time, your orgasm brain numbing, making your toes curl and your whole body twitch. Jeonghan feels you tighten around him as you come and he can’t hold back either as he fills you up for the second time, calling your name softly, his warm breathes fanning your face.

“Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last long.” He mutters, eyes moving onto your face, the fucked out look on you making him groan, as he buries his head in your neck, painting the skin with pretty marks. He didn't even spare your lips and mercilessly nibbled onto them until they're red and swollen. He held pride in himself and at this rate, your heart was godspeed.

His soft whisper sends shivers down your spine and without thinking, you nod, holding him tightly, burying your face in his neck. Your brain has stopped functioning properly long ago and all you can feel are the way Jeonghan’s hips snap into you and the warmth radiating from him. You feel vulnerable yet safe at the same time as you hold his body close to yours and breathe in his sweaty scent.

Soon, your orgasm is brain numbing, making your toes curl and your whole body twitch. Jeonghan feels you tighten around him as you come and he can’t hold back either as he fills you up for the second time, calling your name softly, his warm breathes fanning your face.

Your ears ring and you are too tired to move a muscle as you lie there, with Jeonghan panting harshly on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. For a while there is silence, nothing other than the harsh breathing of you both before you feel Jeonghan soften and slide out of you, making his release drip down your pussy and you wince. "No paint is of this consistency as my cum" even with zero energy, he made you laugh a little too hard, your ribs ached. The "tester sketch" had long fallen on the carpet, and the sheets were wet.

He helps you to the bathroom, carefully takes care of you and himself and back to another lazy position on the couch, because none of you had the energy to deal with the bedsheets.

"When simplicity meets seduction..." he strokes your hair, hugging your tinted body closer to his stiff chest "an artistry in shared intimacy blooms" he completes. "Those photos, are your reference for the artwork. Make better use of it, babe" "I don't see why wouldn't I" you snuggle closer "anyways simplicity and seduction won me a good sex and dirty sheets"

"That's the harmonious convergence of elements that generate a symphony"

There he goes. Good thing is you've love him endlessly.

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 23 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!oc]

summary: in the beginning, there was darkness...

words: 5.1k

chapter warning: gratuitously deep philosophical nonsense.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, hurt/comfort. smut. Spicy situations. spousal / domestic abuse. family trauma. verbal abuse. PTSD, psychotic breaks/episodes, drug use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. possessive!peter, protective!peter. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self-talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships. having happiness ripped away from you.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you think that this symbol

is the logo of some off-shoot programming block on Nickelodeon, then you're wrong. But are you? Regardless, live a little and come back later.

Part 23

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

Peter thought of the elements. 

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Greats. Earth. Wind. Water. Fire. Space. Born out of Hinduism’s sacred literature. Also, Captain Planet’s sidekicks.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Chemical Elements. Only 118 of them have even been discovered. Only 95 of those are primordial, whereas the rest are man-made. 

His dad used to talk for hours about this stuff.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The interrogation room he was in was dark, despite the flickering fluorescent bulbs. The buzz of the lights sounded like a buzzsaw. The air was cold, too. The thin NYPD-branded, crew neck tee that Peter had been given to wear didn’t help much. 

Tick... Tick... Tick

The lights flickered again, this time with a greenish hue. 

Argon. Symbol: Ar. Number 18. A noble gas. Mercury. Hg, number 80. Also known as quicksilver. Highly toxic. Phosphorous. Number 15.

In his class, he was Number 2.

Atoms aren’t even as old as people assume. After the Big Bang, the universe was still nothingness—white, hot light that scorched everything out of existence. The heat was uninhabitable. Hydrogen didn’t make its appearance until roughly 370,000 years later. 

370,000 years of hot, blinding nothingness.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

Hour after hour, they came at him like waves of radioactive light.

First, there were two detectives—both a bit too junior to be assigned to such a high-profile case, but Peter figured that they didn’t know that. A reserved Eagle Scout named Sousa and a snarky blonde female named Carter. 

Or just ‘Sharon,’ as her boss Alexander Pierce referred to her, to her thinly-veiled ire. 

The Commissioner waltzed into the room mid-interrogation and essentially asked his naive detectives to go back to coloring while the adults talked. Both detectives walked out of the interrogation room with a scowl on their faces.

They probably didn’t know it, but Pierce wasn’t concerned about their abilities as detectives, or the integrity of the case. All he needed was to get Peter behind bars, where crooked guards and violent inmates could take over. Where he could give Peter the same welcome that Miguel had.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter could tell by the scent of Pierce’s cologne: a $1,200 bottle of Bond 9 Dubai that not even New York’s police commissioner could afford. 

Peter recognized the scent. It was Wilson Fisk’s favorite gift to give his friends.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter did. 

Pierce had no intention of letting him make it to trial.

Peter was disconnected. Drained. Eventually, even Matt’s voice became static which blended into the tone of the room, and droned beneath the ticking of the clock and the god-awful buzz of the lights.

“—he’s in’a world’a trouble...”

“... absolutely no evidence —not even formal charges have been presented...”

It might not have been productive, but Peter allowed himself to tune out. Matt was a good lawyer.

“—lucky we’re not pressing charges against the department after Captain Stacy’s unwarranted attack on my client, whom he’s been stalking for years—”

Oh man, that’ll piss George off when it gets back to him. A very good lawyer.

Despite his earlier act, he still felt a great amount of sorrow for George Stacy. Not exactly sympathy... and not quite guilt. Just sorrow. 

Looking into his eyes was like looking down into a sinkhole. Or passing a destroyed car on the highway. Unidentifiable. Cold. Hollow. Empty. Somehow the emptiness in Gwen’s father always triggered an empty feeling in him. It was a secret weapon that George had over Peter that his estranged father-in-law didn’t even know he had.

On the outside, Peter could wear a mask that projected cockiness and make lewd comments about the man’s wife. On the inside, George could eviscerate Peter with a look.

370,000 years of nothingness. Nothing but white, hot rage.

Peter tuned back in for a moment when Pierce said the name Walker. He hadn’t even heard the question fully and already his blood was boiling. He wished that he was guilty of that bastard’s murder. He wished that he had killed him. He tried to focus on something that Felicia said months back which resonated with him: about how Honey needed a chance to stand up for herself.

Maybe Felicia was right. Maybe it was just a terrible thing that needed to be done, and Honey was the one that needed to do it. 

Honey wasn’t Gwen. 

The history she shared with that dead asshole was a far cry from the tragic turn of events that led Gwen to shove a man off the ledge of a clock tower. 

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

The look of heartbreak in her eyes. He’d never forget it. 

George looked at Peter that way once, too—after a closed-casket funeral when he laid his daughter in the dirt.

They looked the way Peter felt all the time. Devastation. Ruin.

How could Peter possibly be capable of such cruelty? The world was full of monsters. Sometimes Peter was one of them.

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

In the beginning, there was darkness. Then, there was an explosion. Then there was an inferno that burned so hot, even the basic building blocks of the universe could not begin to form.

Honey wasn’t Gwen; she was Peter’s universe. The stars in his sky. She was a vast, endless expanse that surrounded him. That held him in an ever-growing, outwardly-expanding gravitational orbit. She was everything, and outside of that, there was nothing.

And every second in that room he felt himself getting further away from her.

Peter’s bones hurt. His back was in so much pain it was difficult to sit still. On top of that, he was weary. He was traumatized. He was grieving the loss of his security, his home. Grieving Eddie.

Despite that, Peter could toss the table like a Coke can. He could punch a hole in the wall and stroll out if he wanted to. Or crawl across the ceiling, to Pierce’s astonishment and horror.

Pierce was staring at him again. This time, there was a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Even if Peter did escape, he had too much to lose. Peter knew it. Pierce did, too.

In all the ways that mattered, he was trapped in his own web.

After several more minutes (or hours, maybe) of grandstanding on both sides, the door to the interrogation room swung open. A stocky figure silhouetted the doorway. Intense features, sharp lines in his jaw, brow, and aquiline nose, as much shadow spilling over him as there was light. 

The temperature of the room shifted. Matt and Pierce stopped talking. Peter froze, lifting his chin as he met the dark glare of Manhattan’s district attorney. 

“Frank,” Pierce said with a tinge of discomfort. “I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us so soon.”

Matt’s voice warmed but maintained a snarky edge. “Ah, is that the Honorable Francis Castiglione?” he bitingly beamed. 

Despite the smile on Murdock’s face, Peter could hear the pace of his lawyer’s heart pick up. Which... wasn’t a great sign. Even Pierce started to sweat. 

“Mr. Murdock,” New York’s toughest DA replied without batting an eye. Unswayed. Uncompromising. Undefeated. He held a stone, straight-laced expression. Even beneath a conservative black suit and tie, he was one of the most intimidating men Peter had ever laid eyes on. He was at least a solid 170 pounds, Peter supposed, of solid muscle and righteous fervor.  

“Just having a little fun, Mr. Castle,” Matt charmed with obnoxious flair. “How could I forget your name with all of the posters still hanging around? ‘Stand Your Ground.’ Great campaign slogan, by the way. Especially for a pacifist who managed to ban every firearm in the five boroughs. Although, I’m certain you won’t be getting any gift baskets from the gun lobby—”

“I wanna speak with your client alone.” Frank’s deep voice rolled through the room like the first tremors of an impending avalanche. The other men stared back, blinking silently.

Matt’s sunny disposition dimmed as his jaw tightened. Pierce’s hackles were raised, although he tried to suppress it. Wordlessly, they blinked and flinched and tried to wrap their heads around the request.

A humorless laugh left Matt’s lips. “Yeah. That’s not gonna happen—”

“That’s fine,” Peter answered. He and his lawyer spoke simultaneously, their voices crossing each other in converse directions. 

Matt turned his head towards Peter’s side of the room, his whole body going stiff. The flesh behind his light stubble turned pale. “Um,” Matt subtly cleared his throat while his heartbeat hurled alarmed profanities at Peter. “Uh, that is... not advisable.”

“S’okay, Matt,” Peter calmly replied, keeping his eyes locked on Frank. He could hear the sounds of his lawyer’s brain overheating while trying to reboot. Pierce pinched his lips in an anxious pout, avoiding looking directly at the district attorney.

Matt gripped the head of his cane tight enough to nearly break it. “Uh... Um. Oh-okay.” Awkwardly, Matt pushed his chair back as he came to a stand, shuffling to his feet. 

Leaning back into the chair rest, Pierce visibly relaxed until Frank sternly added, “You too, Commissioner.”

The irritation in Pierce’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Shoulders tensed, teeth gritted, the man stood from his chair. He mirrored Matt as he sidestepped from the table and towards the exit.

Matt lingered for a moment at Peter’s side while his nails anxiously scored the cane. Peter noted the pinched expression behind Matt’s ruby-colored glasses.

“It’s okay,” Peter murmured under his breath, repeating an earlier sentiment that Murdock was skeptical to believe. And with that, Matt was powerless. Hesitantly, he gave them a parting nod, and followed Pierce out of the room.

The metal door echoed as it slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone in the cell. 

Peter threaded his fingers together, the metal in his chains clinking, and leaned back as far as his restraints would let him. Thighs spread and chin tilted off axis, he fixed Frank with an unimpressed glare as a smirk played on his lips.

The prosecutor shifted like a monolith unearthing itself. Frank measured the cocky, sharp-tongued mafia ringleader with eyes colder than steel as he strode to the table. He pulled out a chair across from the prisoner and lowered himself down into it.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment on opposite sides of the room. But it was their positions on opposite sides of the law that created friction. 

Frank was at least a decade older than Peter, but Peter seemed even more juvenile by comparison. The mob boss looked and acted like a young prince, leaned back in his seat with a smug face. Alternatively, Frank glowered down at him with the authoritative scrutiny of judge, jury, and executioner.

“Hot daaamn,” Peter said, mouth curved into a smile. “You put on some weight since I last saw ya, bub.” Waggling his eyebrows, his eyes flicked over the other man’s form. “You been workin’ out? Crossfit, maybe?” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Forget bein’ the scourge of New York’s underworld— Bro, you must be killin’ it in the gym.”

Unfazed, Frank disregarded the remarks without a single blink. His dark eyes bored into Peter, and he remained more than comfortable with the uncomfortable silence that followed.

Peter glared at him with darkening eyes, balling his fists against the table. “Is it safe to assume the cameras are off at this point?” Animosity sharpened his voice to a razor’s edge. “I mean, that’s the only way you’d ever allow yourself to be seen fraternizing with a criminal like me, right?”

The temperature of the room pitched downwards even further. Icy waves surged off of Peter. Frank was a stone wall, letting each wave crash over him and fall back into the surf.

“I’m not the one who put you in those cuffs, Peter,” Frank answered, nonconfrontational. “I’m not the bad guy here. And I never wanted to be your enemy.” He kept his voice soft and respectful, wisdom shining from his eyes. “You and I—we’re not so different. We’re not monsters; we’re men. We’re bound by the law. Both of us, judged by the law.”

The smile faded from Peter’s lips. “Well," he glowered, bitter frost in his bite, "aren’t you a modern-day Moses on the Mountain.” His words were punctuated with ire as he scrutinized him with disdain. “Y’know, they told me ya caught religion, but I didn’t realize what a holy roller you were. When we’re done here, I’ll give ya Matt’s number. Give ya tons to talk about. Bet'chu two would be a hoot at parties.”

Peter sneered at him a moment longer, then let out a bored, depreciating sigh. “M’not much of a Bible thumper, myself,” he half-shrugged. “Only verses I know by heart are Ezekiel 25:17... and, uh... whatever that bullshit was in Shawshank.”

Frank glanced down, deep in thought. “‘His Judgment Cometh and That Right Soon’,’' he said, recalling the prop he referenced. It was a tapestry embroidered with the Bible verse hanging in the corrupt Warden’s office—a MacGuffin in the film’s plot. 

“That's not a real verse,” Castle noted, matter-of-factly. “You’re probably thinkin’ of Psalm 98:9—’Let them sing Before the Lord; for he cometh to judge the earth: With righteousness shall he judge the world and all of its people equally.’” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Well.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue as resentment spread through his chest like a tumor. “I’m Jewish. And even then, I never drank the Kool-Aid. S’not really my thing.”

He waited, expecting Frank to take offense. To Peter’s dismay, he remained as peaceful as a lake on a windless day. 

“I get that,” the older man mused somberly. Contemplative, he looked up at Peter with sympathy coloring his face. “If what happened to you, happened to me,” he said, “I don’t know if I’d like who I’d become either.”

As he said it, his gentle eyes settled in on Peter with a knowing expression. Pity. It made Peter's teeth grind and his temper burn. It took all of his self-restraint not to break out of his chains and (re)break the prosecutor’s nose. Indignation writhed inside of his chest, souring his face and his stomach.

“Heard you were gunnin’ f’me real hard, too,” Peter muttered bitterly, tossing words like daggers. “Really put the heat on me— M'actually flattered.” Salaciously, he flashed his canines with a wink. “But ya didn’t hafta go to all that trouble, Frank. If y'wanted to get me alone in a dark room, y'coulda just hit me up on Grindr.”

“Are you done?” he replied witheringly.

“Oh, c’mon,” Peter taunted, equal parts threatening and scandalous. “I mean—they don’t call ya ‘The Punisher’ for nothin’, right? Well, go on. Punish me, Daddy. Why doncha just bend me over your knee?”

Frank’s eyes flicked to the black, mirrored glass window, shaking his head in frustration. “Always a comedian,” Castle huffed, annoyed. “Between you and Wade Wilson, it’s like watchin’ a hundred-car pile-up of clown cars. Can’t even be just a little real, not even for a second—” 

“That’s not true,” he pouted. “My tits are real...”

Fed up, Castle shook his head and grumbled, “Y’think everything's is a joke! Can you at least pretend like you give a shit about any of this—?” 

Peter’s temper flared suddenly, hitting a flashpoint that boiled the humor out of their rapport. “Y’know what I think?” he snapped back, eyes dark with rage. “I think you’re a God-damn hypocrite! That’s what I think! You and this whole corrupt, bullshit organization. That’s the joke.”

Frank shook his head, grinding his teeth. “There you go. Always a martyr.”

“Again, with the religious talk?” Peter rolled his eyes into the back of his head while letting out a dramatic sigh. “Look, ‘m’not interested in joining your little MLM cult-club, alright?”

“‘Mob Boss,’ my ass,” Frank scoffed. “Ya act like a fuckin’ child! Always whining about being the victim! Like you’re the only one in this city who's ever lost somethin’! Arrogant prick, I did three tours in Iraq while you were doodling in your diary! I was washing the blood of my brothers off my uniform while you were crying into your pillow at night! People die! Thousands of ‘em, every day! All tragedies, all the time, yet— somehow—yours is special!”

Frank’s voice boomed off the concrete walls, patience shattered. “You wanna talk about hypocrisy?” Castle said sharply. “Punishment?! How about three weeks ago in Forest Hills? Right in your backyard. Cops got a call about a domestic dispute. When they got there, the perp somehow ended up with a bullet hole in the back of his head, even though no one in the house owned a gun. You know anything about that?”

Peter straightened his lips into a thin line, lifting his chin. “Sounds like the dispute was resolved.”

“How about that hedge fund manager that committed suicide last spring?” Frank said, skewering him with his gaze. “The one that decided to swallow a container full of gasoline and light up a cigarette before jumpin’ off a roof on Park Avenue?”

“Tragic,” Peter replied, deadpan. “I read about it in the news. Guess the shame of stealing $8 million dollars of pension money from a firefighters union must’ve really burned him up inside.”

Agitated, Frank scowled with his eyes narrowed into slits. “How ‘bout in Brooklyn last fall? How do three seasoned drug pushers end up OD’ing on half their own supply of Fentanyl?”

Peter remained expressionless. “Dunno, Frank. Guess the Lord works in mysterious ways." The attorney huffed with nostrils flaring. By contrast, Peter idly see-sawed his head. "Rather poetic," he said, "as far as justice goes.” 

“That’s what I call ‘punishment,’ Parker. Not justice! Vengeance! Plain. Simple. And cold-blooded.”

Peter sat up, leaning forward as his colorless eyes flashed with rage. “Before you accuse me of anything else you can’t prove—especially the messes that New York’s Finest shoulda handled—how ‘bout you explain to me how two innocent women were butchered and burned to death in Midtown and not a single arrest has been made?”

Frank turned silent.

“How ‘bout the dozens of immigrant families who’re bein’ forced against their will to launder the Mayor’s drug money so he can spend it on campaign ads?”

The other man’s jaw clenched while Peter continued his attack. “Let’s keep goin’ shall we?” he hissed. “Tell me how a Russian oligarch and his buddies park a yacht in the harbor—filled with stolen girls—children, practically—and somehow just... get away?” Veins protruded from his neck as anger rippled through his chest. 

“Got any answers for me, Counselor?” Peter spat harshly, jabbing his index finger at Castle as far as he could while in handcuffs. “Wanna phone a friend? How ‘bout you call your boss, yeah? Why don’t you ask Wilson Fisk? Ask yourself! If you’re such a holy man, then how can you work for the Devil?! How can you even sleep at night, huh?I”

Outwardly, Frank was stoic with nothing but a crease between his brows to telegraph his thoughts. Inwardly, Peter could hear the attorney’s heart rate drumming up as Peter relentlessly dressed him down. Castle’s jaw was locked tight, holding his breath.

“And tell me one more thing,” Peter added, eyes flashing with rage. “How many times do you think about what woulda happened if I hadn’t been in the Park that night?” He blurted out the statement with a livid snarl and a dry throat. “What if I hadn’t intervened in the Blacksmith deal? What woulda happened if I hadn’t gotten your wife and kids outta there before the guns started goin’ off? You ever think about that!?”

Peter’s voice buckled on the last word. Memories of the violent night in Central Park five years ago flooded them both, bringing a tidal wave of conflicting emotion that swallowed him up. 

It was Peter that covertly led the FBI to a plan to eliminate several gangs (and Peter’s enemies) at once. Practically a gift from the gods, it seemed, to take out all of Peter’s competition in one swoop. 

Once it was clear to the young mob boss that the FBI cared more about making headlines than making sure the park was clear of innocent people, Peter chose to intervene. In the end, it was a disaster anyway.

When the other gangs realized they were being set up, a shootout erupted. Lives were lost. Peter saved as many people as he could, including Frank Castle and his family. For everyone else, it was still a tragedy. 

Gwen included.

It was the first and last time the two men had met. And subsequently, a night that neither of them ever talked about. 

Until now.

Peter’s eyes glazed over, tortured by the consequences of his choices. A tidal wave of conflicting emotions swallowed him up as his mind flooded with horrible thoughts. Betrayal, and resentment, and bitter, evil, disgusting jealousy that Peter could save Frank’s family but not his own.

Peter looked contemplative, then. Haunted. He fixed his weary eyes on Frank, continuing to unravel.

“And I’m gonna level with ya, pal,” Peter said in an unnervingly soft tone of voice. “Fuck. You. If you think that you and I are the same. You and I are not the same. Never will be.” Heartache pierced his throat, compressing his voice. He jerked his thumb toward himself. “Because somebody saved you.”

Tears glistened as Peter breathed hotly through flared nostrils. “Fuck your judgment!” he growled. “Because if what happened to my family happened to your family—ya wouldn't last a goddamn day! You’d be a nut job! You'd be beggin' for a bullet in ya head, rather than see what I’ve seen!” 

Fury vibrated through the younger man’s being, indignation piercing each sentence. “I don’t give a shit what nickname they call you,” Peter seethed, “in the media... in the Marines... not even in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade! When it’s your family filled with bullet holes—believe me— that shit hits different.”

Peter’s eyes were wild—black with anger, wet with tears. “‘You wouldn't like who you'd become either?’” he repeated, muttering spitefully. “Fuck you!" Peter’s voice echoed, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in Frank’s chest. 

He took a measured breath. His throat bobbed, cords pulled tight. "I may not be a religious man," Peter added as his chest heaved, "but I pray you never have to find out.” His volume abruptly dropped, adding a foreboding sentiment to the words. Like whispering a dark secret. A warning.

Blinding, white hot rage obliterating everything in its path. Scouring any sign of life before its existence.

Castle sat stoically with his arms crossed. Breathless from his outburst, Peter slowly retracted himself back into his seat. Frank studied him with a contemplative gaze and a tight-lipped mouth. 

Until he broke his silence. “Every night.” 

It was barely a whisper. Peter blinked at him with a crooked brow while the other man held Peter in his gaze.

“Every single night,” Frank answered, a little louder, “I think about what would’ve happened to my family if you hadn’t been there.”

Peter pressed his lips together, jaw flexing stiffly. Mist gathered on his lashes. He drew a shaky breath, lip trembling. To keep his eyes from betraying him further, he hardened his brow.

“You’re a hero, Peter,” Castle said simply. It was just a fact. “And a good man.”

Peter averted his gaze, casting it down while he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. 

“You have the power to do good,” he said. “So much more than you realize.” Frank’s eyes swelled with something like reverence and admiration for his antithetical counterpart. “And yeah,” he noted matter-of-factly, “I do pray." He watched him placidly and empathetic. "And when I do, I pray that one day, other people will see you for the man you really are. And maybe... just maybe—you'll see it, too.” 

Shooting pain in his fingers alerted Peter to the fact that his knuckles were clenched white. He kept his head lowered, eyes hidden and fixed on the shackles around his wrists. 

“I pray that you find faith in yourself,” Castle said, then. His soft voice sliced through Peter’s toughened heart. The older man’s lip tightened into a line, his deep voice thick with sorrow. “And salvation... from yourself.”

Peter looked upward. The attorney gazed back at him in earnest. The silence which followed felt like the end of an era.

“You and I want the same thing,” Frank then said, returning to a sense of formality. “You want to expose Wilson Fisk as the Kingpin. So do I.” 

Peter studied Frank’s heart—and his own. Steady. True.

“The only difference,” Castle added, “is I want to do it right: by the law. Justice. Not revenge.” Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes. “Because if we can’t do this right, then it’s not worth doing at all.”

“The only difference is,” Peter countered, “when I take Fisk down, he’s gonna stay down.”

Frank gazed at him incredulously. “That’s nice. Good stuff. You want me to write that down and read it at your funeral?” Peter glared bitterly but had nothing to say. 

“Cards on the table,” Frank explained. “I don’t have enough evidence to charge you. Not today. Now you can walk outta here, go back to your old ways. End up in a casket, or in a jail cell sooner or later. Take my word, there are plenty of people in this building that want you dead. You won’t last a night at Ryker’s without someone tryin’ to stab a broken toothbrush through that giraffe neck of yours.”

“Sounds like it’s gonna be painful,” Peter muttered in a low voice. “For them.”

Frank fixed him with a stern glare. “Alright, smartass. Then what? These people are comin’ for blood. And they’re not going to stop with just yours.” He paused, then added, “You should know that, more than anybody.”

Peter had nothing to say to that. The thought alone stole his breath.

“You wanna fight the system?” Frank said. “You wanna take down Fisk? Then you bring me proof to put ‘em away. All of ‘em. Fisk, Pierce, his little ‘Shield’ SS hit squad. Every last one of them.”

Peter bit his tongue, contemplating the idea.

“And most importantly, you keep your hands clean,” Frank declared sternly. “No more dead car thieves in the river. No more pimps gettin’ scraped off the subway tracks.” His tone was cold, eyes sharp as he skewered Peter threateningly. “There’s enough killing in this city as it is. You cross that line, and I will come for you, you understand? Deal or no deal, our history be damned—you are not allowed to take the law into your own hands. You got that?”

Peter raised his chin, peering at him through the fringe of his slitted eyes. 

The clock ticked on. Primordial elements as old as time surrounded them. And for reasons that Peter could not fully understand, he walked into a coffee shop one day and walked out with hope. A dangerous seed. 

A force that could save the whole city. The world.

Maybe even his own soul.

The district attorney came to a stand, holding the mob boss in his stare. “You’re a free man, Peter,” Frank said. “What happens next is up to you.”

After another moment, he headed for the door. As soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back at the man who he owed his life. With a stone expression, Castle made one final plea.

“Whatever you do... Don’t let me catch you.”

It was half past noon when Honey walked into her modest apartment in the Theater District off 45th Street. 

Flipping on the lights, she peered hesitantly inside. Stepping through the threshold felt like tumbling down a wormhole through time.

More or less, the studio apartment looked exactly the same as it did nearly a half-year ago, when she left for work at the coffee shop. 

It was a bit tidier than how she’d left it—her cheetah print throw blanket neatly folded on the edge of her thrifted loveseat. The smell confirmed that all the perishable food had been discarded. An empty vase sat alone on a scuffed, white, gateleg table that was crammed into a corner of her kitchen. The daisies that it once held had wilted and been tossed long ago.

The world was alien to her. It was like walking through a dream, or onto a theater set piece constructed for a play about her life. These were the possessions of a person she didn’t know anymore.

“We had someone come by earlier with groceries,” a voice said from behind her. She turned as Karen Page strolled into the apartment wearing camel wide-leg wool trousers and a matching double-breasted blazer from The Row paired with Salvatore Ferragamo Vara-bow pumps. “A maid came in once a week to tidy up, but other than that everything should be as you left it.”

Honey blinked with wide eyes as she watched the strawberry-blonde haired woman breeze through her home—former home. She pulled a rolling carry-on case behind her filled with a small portion of Honey’s wardrobe. Karen came to a stop in the center of the apartment. With neatly manicured nails, she produced a keyring from her blazer pocket.

“New keys,” she explained, handing it over to Honey. “Any pertinent mail has been left for you on the counter. The new wifi password is on the sticky note next to it, along with your new cell phone number.”

She had almost forgotten. Honey reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the latest model of iPhone. She stared down at the foreign object queasily. This one had no spider decal, she noted. 

“There’s also a debit card, too,” Karen explained methodically, as if reciting a monotonous dialogue. “New bank account information is in the folder. We’ve made a small deposit to compensate you for your troubles, at least until you find a new job. But you shouldn’t have any more problems from here on out.”

A few seconds of silence passed as Karen eyed the peeling paint on the walls. “Well. I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said, straightforward. 

Honey’s eyes darted over to Karen as the woman turned to leave mouth “Wait!” she called out, her forehead creased and mouth hung agape. Karen stopped in front of the doorway. “Wait... is that it?” she said, dismayed. 

Karen blinked her radiant blue eyes. “Was there something else you needed?”

Her nose crinkled at that. “What about Peter?” Honey said, almost in a demanding tone. “What happens to him?”

Karen cast her eyes to the floor, sighing uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that.”

Honey glared at her crossly. “Well, can I at least talk to him—?”

“It would be best to limit contact at this time.” The pleasant formality of her voice made Honey want to punch her.

“For how long?” she scoffed.

Karen gazed at her for several moments of silence. Which continued on, until Honey realized that an answer wasn’t coming.

“We’ll be in touch,” Karen added gently.

As the woman stepped out into the tenement corridor, Honey nearly jolted after her. “Wait... M-Ms. Page?”

She waited.

“What do I do now?” she asked meekly. Her voice sounded timid to her own ears.

Karen stared back at her then lifted up one of her shoulders. “Whatever you want.” 

And with that, Honey was left alone for the day.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Continue to Epilogue

[dexlexia]

atomic gold - a vashwood fic

chapter 2/3: gold pairing: vashwood (vash x nicholas) rating: 18+ summary: Nicholas swore this was the last fight, but it was never the case. He always ended up in the projector room in the east wing of the university’s main building being patched up by Vash. Vash was a good guy, a little goofy at times. And had a habit of causing more trouble than helping, but he and Nicholas were rather close since they both became the only two members of the dying film club. tags: college au, internalized homophobia, smut, nicholas is bad at feelings, film club au, minor violence, mentions of blood, trans!vash, needle mentions, jealousy, background relationships, catholicism, slow burn, eventual smut, reference to abuse, controlling knives a/n: this fic will be updated on June 18th (today) & June 25th. read it on ao3 !

When Nicholas laid beside Vash in bed, every nerve in his body felt alive.  There was a buzz in his body as the two men laid in bed.  There was enough space between them but Nicholas could feel the heat of the blonde's body beside him. Vash's back was facing him,  he was cuddled up with the meter long cat plush he had bought himself during recovery. 

Nicholas could hear the rise and fall of Vash's chest and hum of the air conditioning unit.  He exhaled to himself and laid there on his back. He had taken some medication for the pain before he went to bed.  He was unable to sleep, he wanted to chalk it up to the pain of his face but in reality it was the feeling of the other man beside him. 

Every so often he'd look over at Vash's sleeping body.  He'd hear the small noises that the man would make,  the shuffled movements in bed as he cuddled up closer to the black cat plush. Nicholas swore to himself that Vash was probably drooling on the stuffed animal.  Nicholas held onto the cross on his neck and silently prayed to himself.  It was more to relax him, a constant in his life. Whenever he felt strong emotions he could find clarity in prayer. Usually when he got close to Vash, he would pray for strength to resist the urge to fall more into the feelings he had for  the blonde. 

Eventually Vash rolled onto his back and started to snore, indicating he was in a deep sleep. Nicholas finished his prayers and dropped his hand, it fell into Vash's. But he didn't flinch at the contact. His heart leapt into his throat however when Vash's hand curled into Nicholas'.

Nicholas swallowed, and sank into the memory foam mattress.  He gripped Vash's hand for a moment before he let go. He swore for a moment that he saw Vash smile in his sleep. 

-

The morning after was quiet, the blaring of Vash's phone alarm woke the two of them up. Nicholas' bruises were now an ugly purple. His eye was still bloodshot. Vash gave him a pair of dark sunglasses to wear while the swelling went down.  The men showered separately and ate some plain eggs and buttered toast. 

  "I'll see you later."  Vash smiled before the two departed  from the townhouse. 

Not much happened the weeks following, their routine was kept up.  Nicholas wore the sunglasses most of the time,  protecting his swollen eye from the  oppressive desert sun.  Nicholas liked the sunglasses,  a reminder of Vash wherever he went.  He stayed out of trouble for the most part,  the athletic department didn't come around. The only one who did come to the projector room was Millie and Meryl, it felt like they were coming around more and more. 

Vash was excited to see them when they came around.  Offering them space on the couch while he searched for some movies to let them borrow.  Nicholas sat in the rolling chair and watched them interact. Unless his eyes were deceiving them, Meryl seemed interested in Vash. Her gaze lingered on him, she'd tease him, pull on his ear in annoyance when he acted like an idiot. 

A new feeling rose in Nicholas' chest,  he could only pin it as jealousy.  Great another deadly sin to add to the list. First lust for your fellow man and now jealousy towards a woman. The feeling annoyed him. This was the last thing he wanted, but when he saw them together it made Nicholas want a smoke even more. 

One afternoon, he reached his boiling point and left the room with his pack of cigarettes. He ended up in the designated smoking area of the wing  and went through two smokes before he came back inside, smelling like total shit. He eventually sprayed himself down with body spray to attempt to mask the scent. 

  "I forgot how gross cigarettes smelled." Meryl remarked, pinching her nose and  trying to move the scent away from her and Millie with her hand. 

  "Aw it's not too bad." Vash remarked, "You get used to it." 

  "It's nicotine and tar, how do you still have lungs, Nicholas?" Meryl asked. 

  "Nothing beats Nicholas' iron lungs!"

Nicholas looked over at the blonde, "That word doesn't mean what you think it does." 

  "Oh!" 

Meryl laughed and punched Vash on the shoulder, "Jeez don't you ever read!"

  "I study plant biology, I don't read much else. " Vash shrugged, "I don't stay up past closing time at the library to go through all the new books. Including the romance ones!"

Meryl yelled and hit Vash playfully, "I'm going to kill you, Stampede!"

Millie tried to hold the smaller woman back, "Meryl, he didn't mean it! Don't kill him!"

  "I won't actually! Not unless he makes one more comment about my reading habits!" She responded loudly. 

Nicholas chuckled to himself, but it got caught in his throat when Vash leaned out of Meryl's way. His head close to Nicholas', their eyes met and the blonde smiled. 

The room was rather cramped but more lively. The more Nicholas saw the pair interact the more he accepted that someone like Vash deserved to be with someone like Meryl. Even if they did bicker about the media, it was better than anything Nicholas could offer. So the dark haired man smiled through the pain. 

It was almost Sunday, at least he could pray about it in the proper setting by then.  That was his goal until  Vash brought up the idea of having a movie night in the auditorium that Sunday. Since they had the keys to the room, they could come and go as they pleased. 

  "I, uh. Got church that morning, you can go on without me." Nicholas waved it off. 

  "No way! It's not the same watching a movie without you! It's like donuts without the powdered sugar on top, or filled with jam. Then it's just fried dough and that's less fun!" Vash explained, "We'll move it to another day then." He bumped elbows with the other man. 

Nicholas felt his ears go red at the remark. Did he really bring something to Vash's life? He wasn't just some guy who happened to be the only other member of the same club? He had stopped telling Vash to not touch him,  at this point he accepted the affection. He was going to do what all Catholics do and suffer in silence. 

The movie night went well, Millie brought enough snacks to feed a club triple their size. Meryl sat between Vash and Millie, and while Nicholas sat on Vash's otherside, he was biting his inner cheek at the idea of the woman and the blonde sharing an armrest. 

Little did he know but Millie had her arm over the back of Meryl's auditorium seat. 

  "Can you pass me more gummy worms?" Meryl asked while Nicholas wasn't paying attention.

Millie said as quietly as she could, "Of course." And gave the smaller woman a small peck on the cheek, "And a little extra sugar too." 

Meryl beamed at the other woman before handing the bag. 

Their club soon doubled in size, from two to four with the two women being a frequent staple.  It was near the end of fall semester when Vash finally got his hands on the archival footage that the library was getting rid of. Nicholas didn't have much details on it, but the joy that overcame Vash at the idea of having something that no other club could ever get their hands on was enough for  Nicholas to be happy for his friend.

Vash wanted to watch it with Nicholas, just the two of them at the townhouse one night while Knives was out.  Nicholas didn't know the whereabouts of Vash's brother, but to get some time alone with the blonde meant the world to him. So he wasn't going to complain. He was curious however about the tape. 

  "Why don't you want your brother to see it?"

  "He isn't into that kind of stuff." Vash shrugged nonchalantly., "He's a huge science nerd, if it was about plasma or the human brain he'd be all over it! Plus I want to watch ti with my best friend!"

  "You told Meryl before you didn't really read up on much that wasn't botany. What makes this so special." 

Vash smiled softly, "It's part of my own history." 

They got the townhouse and  he unplugged the DVD player and hooked up the old VCR that he actually fixed up with a lot of time and effort.  It wasn't as seamless as it could be, but it played videos. So that's all that Vash could ask for. The tape was labeled, "July". Vash put it in and took a deep breath. 

The blonde got on the. couch and put the crochet blanket over top both of them.  Vash's hands worried the knit of the blanket,  he knew what was to come. This was about confronting what Vash had been running from. What had happened to him when. he was much younger. Far away from the desert college town he lived in now.  A past that he hoped Nicholas would understand. 

The footage was grainy, and old.  The firing of the Angel Arm flattened a city.  The footage was broadcasted to the world, but by the time resources came to help the people of one of the seven cities, it was too late. The societal collapse had done its damage.

Nicholas was in shock by what he saw.  When he turned to the blonde, he saw tears in his blue eyes. The sharp rise and fall of his chest.  It was like he was reliving the memory all over again.  The goofy Vash that Nicholas grew to love was replaced by someone who felt immense pain. 

  "Do you want me to-" 

  "No, keep playing it."  Vash swallowed, his voice a small whisper. 

Nicholas didn't know what else to do, so. he leaned over and wiped the tears from Vash's eyes. The dark haired man thought to himself,  was it more of a sin to love another man or to let him suffer in a time of need?  Was it possible to adjust his faith to be closer to the blonde? Would he be forgiven when his time comes? None of it really mattered as the tape played. 

Vash wrapped both arms around  Nicholas and rested his face into his shoulder.  His breathing was labored as he felt the flood of emotions wash over him. This probably wasn't the safest method to express the pain he had been carrying,  but how was one supposed to show that they were victims of a city's collapse as a young child.

  "Why are you showing me this if it's making you so upset?"

The blonde swallowed, "I never had the words to explain my life to you.  Explaining where every scar came from felt like too much for you.  So when Meryl told me about the tape, I wanted to show you so you'd understand. 

  "I'm sorry that you suffered so much., Vash. I'm sorry I couldn't make it hurt less."

Vash gave a soft  smile against Nicholas' shoulder, "You've done more than enough, Nicky."

Nicholas swallowed back his own tears, "Good to know, blondie." 

The door to the townhouse opened, revealing Knives with his bag slung over his shoulder.  The first thing. he noticed  down the hallway was the position that Vash and Nicholas were in, and the soft sounds of Vash crying.  Anger filled the blonde's chest, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Wolfwood!"

  "What?"

  "You son of a bitch, I'm going to fuck you up! Get away from my brother!"

Nicholas got up, ready to defend himself. He rolled his sleeves up, ready to fight.  But Knives wasn’t backing down. He stomped forward, got around Nicholas as to create distance between the dark haired man and Vash. 

  "I don't want trouble, Knives." Nicholas said.

  "You're making my brother cry!" Knives snapped as he backed Nicholas down the hallway, "You fucking son of a bitch! I could kill you!"

  "Knives, what the fuck!" Vash snapped as he followed behind his older brother.  He grabbed the other blonde by the arm, "He didn't make me cry!"

Knives looked over his shoulder, his eyes wild. It almost scared Vash. "This guy is going to fuck you over, just like any other guy on this campus. Nobody understands you Vash, nobody gets you and the entire world is out to get you!" 

Vash's shoulders dropped, "Not Nicholas, Knives." He shook his head, "I'm pretty sure Nicholas is not in a long haul to chop up my body and throw it in the woods. Nicholas is not Steve, it's not going to happen again!"

Nicholas' chest was pounding,  his breathing heavy. Who the fuck was Steve? 

Knives clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Vash, please. Let me hurt him before he hurts you.  Guys are like this, you don't realize it! I can protect you, not this stupid loser. Even if he isn't a serial killer, what if he hurts you in other ways? What if I come home and I find that he's hurt you? Anything could happen! You have to  listen to me, Vash." 

Vash dropped his shoulders, "You're overreacting, Knives. You've been my shadow since the minute we were born.  I'm going to be hurt, that's part of life." 

  "Not in the way you've been hurt before." 

  "Knives, not every guy on planet earth sees me as a target."

  "You're vulnerable." 

  "Not with Nicholas." 

Knives turned to Vash, "I need to protect you. Because you don't know any better. You're a doormat at times, Vash. You're too trusting." 

Vash clenched his jaw, "I'm not, Knives. You still see me as  a scared girl. '' Tears welled in his eyes, "Nicholas isn't like that,  he isn't like the families we lived with. " He gestured to his body, "You can check me all over, Nicholas has not laid a hand on me.  I wasn't crying because of him,  I.. I got footage from July 21st.  The school was getting rid of it. I wanted to watch it with Nicholas because I wanted to feel safe." He swallowed and rubbed his eyes, "Nicholas D. Wolfwood makes me feel safe." His gaze met his twin brother's.

Knives exhaled deeply, "It's going to happen again. All guys are like this. "

Vash reached out and held onto his brother's shoulder, "Then that's the pain I live with.  We're the same age, Knives. If you're an adult, so am I." He gripped his brother's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. He soon let go after a brief moment and  walked past him to get to Nicholas who was still by the door.  He wrapped his arms around the other man, "You know I've been in love with him since first year. "

The declaration  of Vash's affection for Nicholas made the dark haired man freeze.  He reached to the blonde and held onto him. The urge to beat the shit out of Knives faded away. His eyes reminded on Knives as he said, "I don't want to hurt your brother,  I swear I'm not in a weird long haul to fuck him over.  I think I see what I want now, and I want your brother. I want to be there for him, I want to protect him just as much. as you do. So let's not beat each other within an inch of our lives?"

Knives dropped his shoulders, "Do you swear on your life Nicholas?" 

   "Yes, I swear on everything." 

The blonde looked to his brother, "I'm not happy about this, but you're right." He pinched the bridge of his nose once more, "You're an adult. But if he hurts you, I will kill him. And I won't regret it for a second." 

Vash looked to his brother, "I assure you he won't." He looked to the dark haired man, "Unless he doesn't want me." 

Nicholas smiled at the blonde, "I want you." He swallowed, the words felt heavy in his mouth. He cupped the back of Vash's head and pressed his forehead against his, "Yeah, I want you."

Knives had no choice but to sigh at the display. He was weary about Nicholas, but it had been almost four years. He'd have to accept that the man was going to be in Vash's life for a lot longer now. He turned and waved behind his head, "Just don't have sex on the couch, alright?"

  "Knives!" Vash yelped. 

-

Since then things had felt good, great even! Vash was a welcomed invader into Nicholas' personal space. The blonde loved his kisses, his hand holding and his cuddling. He said it was everything he ever wanted since first year. Nicholas still felt the pang of Catholic guilt, but the way Vash looked at him. Like he had hung every star in the sky in the evening and brought up the sun just for him in the morning. 

Nicholas eventually realized that Merly wasn't hitting on Vash. She was in fact in a relationship with Millie and had zero interest in men. Vash explained, "Oh yeah, she sees me as a guy! So therefore she's not interested in me one bit. Plus I'm more interested in you to ever be interested in her!" Then gave him a huge smile. 

Fallsemester finally ended, and the break between the holidays was much needed. Nicholas found that since the fight he had a few months prior, he hadn't been in the mood to be punched around any further. He had to keep his head on his head if he was going to be with Vash, maybe the blonde's pacifism was rubbing off on him. 

The two walked down the hall holding hands, Vash leaned over and kissed Nicholas on the cheek. A few girls in the hall giggled, and Nicholas shot them a look.  Nicholas missed Vash when he wasn't on campus, but he'd eventually wind up back at the townhouse after class and sharing an early dinner with Vash. A lot of cheeseburger pasta, his excuse was that it was 'their' food, what they made together around the time they got together. Nicholas was still worried about Vash though, seeing him breakdown the night they started dating. He knew that Vash had the tape, but the blonde assured that he wasn't torturing himself by playing the tape on repeat. 

Nicholas kept the conversation open about wanting to talk about their past, but Vash just smiled at him. A smile that worried Nicholas, but he couldn't force the man to dump his past on him. So instead he showed him a brighter future.  One where he was loved. 

At the end of a long week, Nicholas kicked off his shoes and crawled into the bed with Vash. He wrapped his arms around the blonde and kissed him on the top of the head. He felt their connection as they cuddled. Vash took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.  Nicholas rubbed his back.

  "You're my world, Nicky." Vash said. 

  "Same to you, blondie. You're all I ever wanted." 

With time Vash's love broke down the guilt, not like a wrecking ball but like snow in spring. Melting it away until it came back to the earth. If he was going to hell for the sin of loving the blonde, then he hoped that he could spend every moment in damnation beside the blonde.  But he was beginning to believe it was a worse sin to lie to the people around him, especially to Vash. 

The weight of guilt was nothing compared to the euphoria of loving him. 

Knives slowly came around, he was civil more than anything. The two still didn't like each other but put it aside for the sake of Vash. The blonde didn't look like he was going to kill Nicholas anymore. Rather he gave him a blank expression and a curt nod. It was all Nichola could ask for in honesty. Knives did however roll his eyes when he saw the pair cuddling on the couch. 

  "Still not your biggest fan, Wolfwood." Knives said while the two were standing outside the townhouse in the middle of the night smoking. 

  "Didn't expect to be." 

  "Remember-"

  "I know, Knives. You have a whole army of fangirls at the school who would be more than happy to hide my body in the middle of the desert." Nicholas exhaled, letting the smoke partially cloud his vision.

Knives turned to Nicholas, "I'm glad we're on the same page then." And gave him probably his least forced smile. There was something predatory about it. The dark haired man swallowed. The things you do for love, he thought. 

But as the new year rang in at a small party in the townhouse. Nicholas pressed his lips against Vash's. His strong arms wrapped around the beanpole man. Their forehead eventually pressed together.  Vash was the sun, Nicholas was the moon. Complementary and always longing for one another. Nicholas gave another small kiss on the blonde's face. His head screamed for a need to be loved by Vash till the end of his days. And he'd do everything in his power to make that happen. 

  "I love you." 

  "I love you too, blondie."

[tinyglitterrose]

Omega? - Part 2

Part 2, Lashton, boyxboy, 18+

Omega Ashton, Alpha Luke

Warnings: SMUT, O/B/A, omega in heat

Summary: Luke finally gives in. And they talk cuz Ashton is scared and insecure about what he wants.

---

He was going to do it himself.

He wiggled around a little and by the time Luke was emitting the bathroom, a clean towel in his hand, he was humping the bed, one hand gripping the sheets tightly, the other rhythmically pushing two of his fingers in and out of his slick drenched hole.

It felt a lot less weird than he had thought, honestly, all he could feel was ecstasy. Who cared if this was his asshole that he was currently shoving his fingers into.

“Holy-“, Luke gasped and the green towel slipped out of his hands, “Ash, what – what the fuck, oh my – holy shit”

Every atom of Luke’s body yearned to join the boy on the bed.

He managed to keep himself from acting on this urge just like the past two days but he was not strong enough to not walk closer to the bed.

Swear words kept leaving the overwhelmed alpha’s mouth and every one of them seemed to spur Ashton on.

“Watch, w- watch me, alpha”, he gasped, ass pushing back onto his fingers, riding them, thighs still spread wide and giving Luke a show that made him have to clench his fist around his balls to keep from cumming in his pants like a hormonal teenager.

“Ash, you can’t-“

“I, I have to – h-help me if you, you – ah”, he couldn’t finish his sentence, had forgotten what he had wanted to say before he got there.

Luke was breaking into a sweat. This was the hottest thing he had ever seen and his alpha nature was scratching at his skin from the inside, begging to make Luke act on what he wanted. He wanted to touch Ashton, he shouldn’t have to make himself cum, Luke wanted to take care of him, help him through his heat, make him cum until he lost his voice and wouldn’t even be able to walk to the bathroom by himself.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that, Ashton wasn’t in his right mind.

So Luke stumbled backwards, locking himself in the bathroom where he crouched down next to the toilet, covering his ears to try his best to drown out his best friend’s desperate whines and moans and the calls for him.

He must have fallen asleep after a few hours of sitting in the cramped up space. He hadn’t moved an inch because he was scared if he did he might loose control and get on the bed in the other room to help a desperate omega through his heat.

His limbs hurt and cracked when he got up now.

There was silence. So Ashton was asleep, too, or gone.

He was neither of those things.

But Luke only noticed that when he was already standing next to the bed, unsure of whether he should sleep in this room or not.

Ashton shuffled and every urge to leave left the tall blonde when he saw the dried tears on his cheeks reflecting the city lights from outside the window. He had never seen Ashton look so…sad. That was an understatement but Luke couldn’t find a word to describe the look on his face.

“You left me”, his voice broke even though he was only whispering, “You left me all alone”

“I know, I’m sorry, but I have to leave”, Luke wanted to cry.

Ashton’s lips trembled, the only warning sign before he started quietly sobbing. He was still looking at Luke through his tear blurred vision, looking so small where he was curled up under the sheets on the bed.

“Ash-“

“No”, a louder sob and Ashton harshly rubbed his eyes, “just g-go then”

This had been what Luke had wanted for the last hours, but now he couldn’t. There was more to what Ashton was saying, something more, and Luke needed to find out what it was and make it go away.

“Ash, I’m not-“

“Go!”

Luke shook his head and kneeled next to the bed so he could look the other boy in the eyes without feeling like he was towering over him.

His thumb softly swiped over Ashton’s cheek. “I’m not leaving you”

“D-don’t”, Ashton’s face scrunched up into a painful expression when he moved away from Luke’s hand, “don’t act like you care”

Luke went to argue but it all spilled out of Ashton then like he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“Like it wasn’t not enough that – t-that you all thought ‘oh, must be a girl cuz we know how omegas smell’ and you didn’t even notice I was trying to be a g-good… better omega, I – I tried! I cleaned stuff and I gave you all more time to speak in interviews because it’s not my place to talk with three alphas and I tried to be worthy of being in the band but, but…you – I’m in heat and you could hold yourself back”, he sobbed loudly, “An omega’s heat should make an alpha want to help them, it should make – you should have wanted me, but you don’t and if an alpha in the same room with me, the – the whole night, and you didn’t – I can’t even be a good …fuck for you, I’m not desirable!”

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t do anything”, Luke kept his voice quiet, Ashton just blinking at him after his outburst, “You’re not, Ash, I would never see you as something stupid like a ‘good fuck’”

“But I should be”

“No, you should be a person!”

Ashton’s lips started to tremble again and Luke quickly rambled on. “No, no, Ash. I don’t mean – I mean you’re so much more than an omega. It doesn’t matter that you are, you’re still the same guy from our first band practice with the awful purple shirt and the push bike. You’re still the same person, Ash, you’re not worth anything less or need to give us your speaking time in interviews or clean our shit or anything. Nothing, absolutely nothing has changed and I’m not a brainless animal that’s gonna rape their best friend just because he’s in heat!”

“Luke”, Ashton’s eyes were big, “it’s not rape, what are you saying?”

“I would feel like it is”

“But I want it!”

“What you want is an alpha. Your omega wants a knot and it’s all you can focus on but that’s not what you want”

He knew he had said something wrong when Ashton gave him a bitter look and turned his back to him, pulling the duvet over his head.

“Ash-“

“I don’t want just any knot!”

Luke was gonna mumble another ‘Ash’ but he didn’t get the chance.

“I want yours, don’t you get it?”, his voice was trembling, even a bit shrill, “I want you, I want you, please! Luke, if you don’t think I’m unworthy, please, I need it, please, please”

“Please don’t beg me”, Luke took a deep shaky breath. He could smell it again. Well, he could smell it the whole time but now it was getting more again, he just knew that there was new slick pushing out of the other boy and pooling between his legs, smearing on his thighs…

“Please”, Ashton whispered again, turning back to Luke in his blanket cocoon, “please, alpha, plea-“

“Don’t call me that, I don’t want to be that”

“Lu”, the drummer drew out the ‘u’ in the nickname, making it sound so much more longing.

“I-“

“Please”, he was slowly peeling himself out of the blanket and Luke was unable to move a muscle to stop him, “I promise it’s me talking, not my omega, I promise. I’m so – so clear, I know what I want, I want it, please”

“W-what do you want?”

For a second, Ashton choked on his own breath in relief of the other man finally giving in. He was giving him a chance, he wasn’t running away again and Ashton would do everything he could to keep it that way.

He pulled off the blanket, kicking it to the other end of the bed.

“Want your knot, Luke”, he whispered, taking in the way Luke’s eyelids fluttered when the drummer arched himself towards him, showing off his body in the lights from the busy city outside.

He watched Luke’s adams apple bob repeatedly, how his teeth bit down into his lower lip and his fingers twitched.

“I’m all wet for you”, Ashton was surprised himself at how seductively he whispered it, “I’m ready for you, I’m all open, just for you, Luke. ‘S just for your knot, all for you”

“I-It’s not-“ Luke was going to repeat his whole it’s your nature speech, but Ashton beat him to it.

“But it’s not. I want you so bad, Luke. Been fantasizing about you and me since I realized I was going to have a heat soon”

“Y-yea?”, Luke gulped. He was walking right into the drummer’s trap and he knew it.

“Mmh. I told you, I just want you”

“But isn’t it gonna change us? Our friendship, the band –“

“Please, Luke”, he pushed just his middle more towards Luke, “Can we talk about this after? I just need you so bad, Lu… it hurts”

Damn Ashton and his teary puppy eyes and the comment about how it hurt.

Luke couldn’t have Ashton hurting.

His breath trembled before he nodded just as shakily and climbed on the bed.

Ashton was so relieved that he let out a sob as he turned on his back to have Luke be on top of him.

Luke’s arms were bracketing his head and he let him stare at him for a few minutes.

Luke was trying to think about this, if he was really going to do this but Ashton was looking up at him with such big hopeful eyes and he needed that slight fear in them that he could change his mind any second to go away.

So he lowered himself further, lips slowly grazing over Ashton’s before he connected them properly and his mind stopped working.

All his doubts were gone and there was only one word: Ashton.

His scent was so much more prominent being this close to him, he was not capable of stopping his own lips from slowly traveling down Ashton’s jaw and to his neck where he pushed his nose to the sweaty skin, breathing him in like he hadn’t breathed any fresh air in years.

Ashton was silently crying, tears streaming down his cheeks again, he was overwhelmed with finally getting what he needed.

Luke was sucking and licking on the soft sweaty skin, so lost in the smell and the feeling that he didn’t notice Ashton’s whispered and gasped pleas at first.

“Need, I need –“, his big hands were clumsily grasping at Luke’s pants, pulling at them like he had forgotten how to take someone’s pants off.

Luke pulled his face from the other boy’s neck but ignored the prying hands. Instead, he lifted the material of Ashton’s damp shirt and pushed it up all the way to his armpits where he let it get stuck to Ashton’s sweaty skin again.

“God, you’re so beautiful”, the blonde mumbled and leaned down to spread kisses all over his wide chest. Ashton released a sob at the compliment, hands rushing to tangle themselves into Luke’s hair.

Luke's face was rubbing over his damp chest hair, fingers stroking down the middle of his chest, scratching the curly hair.

His back arched, when Luke’s lips wrapped around one of his sensitive nipples, tongue lapping out to lick over it, hands now sliding down his sides to feel his bare hips.

“So gorgeous”, Luke mumbled around the skin between his lips, before he let them trail down Ashton’s torso all the way to his crotch where his dick was hard and dark pink and leaking.

Ashton’s hips twitched upwards when he felt the blonde breathe onto the tip.

“Please. Luke-”

Luke placed one single kiss to the swollen tip to which the drummer gasped, then he scooted further down the bed. Both his hands slid down Ashton’s thighs, hooking under his knees and he could feel them shake in his hands when he lifted them to help Ashton plant his feet onto the bed. He was chanting quiet ‘yes, yes, yes’sses, so eager to have Luke touch him where he needed him so badly.

His knees were spread wide open and a tiny part of him felt exposed, too exposed, but he couldn't bring himself to care about it. All he wanted was Luke. His knot, his cum, anything.

---

comment, like and reblog 🥰🥰 and part three coming soon xx

[emmyrosee]

So I just rewatched Atomic Blonde for the second time. I'm once again freaking out about Mr Merkel. That damn voice has me weak. Can we please talk about Soft!Dom!Merkel dealing with his bratty sub? 😇 Hope you're doing well, Darling. Have a good day. ~🌺

LISTEN. L I S T E N. MERKEL LIVES IN MY HEAD RENT FREEE, AND SOFT!DOM MERKEL????? I PAY HIM-

———

“It truly is a shame you try to use your mouth for things other than what I intend to use it for.”

The words tumble past Gordan’s lips effortlessly, almost sounding tired in the confession, as if used to this same talk and bored of it happening on so many occasions.

But one thing you learned about Gordan, is for as loving as he is, he is equally impatient for any ridiculousness you could throw at him.

With his glasses low on his nose and the loose locks of hair falling in front of his beautiful green eyes, they watch your throat bulge out as you suck on his thick fingers, gagging on the digits and trembling from the almost painful pleasure demanding attention between your legs.

“To think,” he continues, sighing dramatically. “I wanted to come home to my little bunny and treat them to a night they would never forget. But instead,” he uses his free, large hand to paw over the tightening fabric of his slacks. “I now have to punish them.”

“Pleash daddy,” you whimper around his fingers, small hand wrapping as much as it can around his wrist. You aren’t even sure you know what you’re asking for, something, anything to relieve the tension inside of you.

You want him to fuck you raw. You want him to spank you until you’re bruised. You want him to completely destroy you in every possible way he seems fit, anything but this seemingly annoyed indifference he’s sending your way now.

All while he pleasures himself.

This was real torture.

“Oh, my poor sweet baby,” he croons, and you whimper at the thick sarcasm dripping in his voice. “If only you had wanted to be good just a few minutes ago, hmm?”

The fingers in your mouth quickly pull themselves out of your lips, and you gag once more at the forceful removal, and before you can ask anything about his actions, he grips your chin in those same saliva coated fingers.

“Perhaps then that pretty little mouth would be used exactly as I’d planned, rather than how I now have to.”

@little-grunge-flowerz

[rolling-horror]

AHHH THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME

[lvss94]

Anger

Characters: Bill Skarsgård x reader

Description: you were angry with him but Bill wants to make you feel better.

Warnings: anger, language, mature themes

You was so angry, thinking at your asshole boyfriend. At this point you don’t even remember why you’re mad at him. You were so furious when you entered in this bar in Stockholm with this unpronounceable name drinking this beer with the same difficult name. You wanted to fight with him so much but he was too busy so you left without telling him. Which made you even angry. The doorbell rang and you looked in that direction.

What

The  

FUCK

You quickly tried to hold up your menu to block your face, but it was of no use. A chair skidded as you heard someone sit down across from you. Knowing exactly who it was, you lowered the menu. His big green eyes pierced you with the cocky smirk on his face, almost funny, making him look that much sexier. But you wasn’t going to be turned on right now, not by the man who’d made you angry. Bill grabbed your hand and gave it a kiss.

“I’m sorry Y/n” he said.  

You didn't know what to say. You wasn't anymore angry but you didn't wanted him to know so you pulled your hand away .

“Go fuck yourself” you said trying to sound angry.

But his smirk grew wider, and anger flooded you all again.You couldn’t think straight. You felt a rush of adrenaline. You didn’t hesitate. You swung your hand toward his shoulder, hoping to make contact, but the bastard was faster. His firm palm caught your wrist, his long fingers snaking around it, radiating heat through you.

“Oh no, älskling ” he said trying not to laugh. But at the same time, under the café table, his leg extended toward your open legs. His foot was like the rest of his body, big, perfectly proportioned. Unbidden, your legs widened. Bill slowly placed his foot on the edge of the chair between your thighs, careful not to actually touch them. Heat reached out from him. Penetrating you and you felt your blood pressure rising. Your emotions betrayed you. You should have been pissed off by his rudeness, but it turned you on. His smooth way hinted at a warmth beneath his icy surface.

“I'd like to fuck you so hard right now” he said. A hot flush burst into your cheeks. His smug smirk changed, though, growing more serious as he lowered his foot.

“Bill” you said to him more like a moan. You brought the beer to your lips, trying to calm down  

“I bet you’re so wet, I can fucking feel it” Your eyes went wider and you choked.Bill stood up and kneeled beside you, patting your back, looking concerned.

“Are you ok?” His hands touched your face, turning you toward him. They were so warm it created a chain reaction you couldn’t fight. Chills went up your spine. Your nipples hardened at his touch. The blood, redirected from your brain, pumped to your core. You felt a sensation of swelling between your legs. You won’t let him make you stain that dress. Pinching your legs together, you focused deeply on holding back the river that was beginning to flow. He looked deeply into your eyes and told you to breathe. A carnal instinct screamed between you. Shit

“Let’s go home” he said in a serious tone.

@ill-skillsgard @emmyrosee @lihikainanea

[scxrsgxrd]

Remedy // Gordon Merkel

Part One

Part two here

Part three here

Part four here

Part five here

Sooo, ‘a taste of beer’ is released so I decide to write about.... Merkel?? Yep, sounds about right. 

Anywho, enough of me and my galaxy brain, I hope everyone enjoys this and thank you so much for reading! :)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of female sex work, mature language, degradation and sex.

Merkel slowly made his way down the dimly lit hall, a singular lightbulb precariously hanging above him which flickered every once in a while. He traced his fingers along the tattered wallpaper on his left hand side, the feeling of the cold, chipped paint beneath the dull floral wallpaper was refreshing due to the humid atmosphere of the corridor he wandered down. He scoffed slightly, the neon lighting outside the building was a stark contrast to the state of the inside. Numerous floorboards creaked beneath his large frame as he made his way to his desired room, he had memorised the winding corridors to this particular door, as he always seemed to find himself in this exact spot following an assignment, seeking out her.

He took a deep breath as he halted outside the door, he knew before he could enter he needed to separate himself from his work persona, ‘work’ being a loose word to describe his profession. He wasn’t like the other men who came here - he wasn't a sleazy, married CEO nor a frivolous teenager seeking a story to go home and brag to their friends about. No, Merkel’s struggle was different. It is here that he finds himself at his most vulnerable, he has yet to shake off the recent memories of his assignment and can still feel the weighted blood on his hands. The only way for him to heal was to visit her, and she was perfectly aware of this, she was his remedy of sorts. He never spoke a word of his profession to her, yet she could so easily read him and submit to his needs in ways that nobody else could.

He brushed his knuckles against the cold, flimsy frame of the plywood door in front of him before knocking twice. It was mere seconds under she opened the door, slowly peering her head around until it opened fully, her eyes lighting up ever so slightly when the man before her was revealed. 

“Merkel, its been so long-”

“Shhh, little one, no talking for now.” He ducked slightly as he entered the room, his tall frame looming above her as he shrugged his coat off, resting it on the back of the musty armchair in the corner of the room.

She knew to oblige. She could tell from the darkened circles under his eyes how exhausted he was, and the fact that his lips were slightly pursed explained to her that he was in no such mood for non compliance. Merkel felt a pang of sympathy for the woman before him and stroked down the length of her jaw with his thumb before planting a light kiss against her lips and then moved his hands towards his belt. Once removed, he toyed with the black leather as he imagined the ways in which he could make her squirm with it; he could have her over his knee in an instant, drinking in every once of her punishment.

No. Not tonight. He thought, he had different plans in mind for this visit. There was only one way for him to pass the countless, mind-numbing hours of surveillance he had to endure: to think about her and everything he wished he could do to her.

“Listen closely my sweet, you know how I do not like to repeat myself. Tonight we shall do things differently, I will only let you cum once.” He gazed at the woman stood in front of him, her expression hiding nothing. She felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, Merkel was never one to play lightly, he was never satisfied unless he stole multiple orgasms from her. Merkel liked to fuck her until she could not take him anymore, until pure exhaustion wrecked her body, and that was how she liked it.

“But I don’t understand. You know how quickly I cum when you fuck me, I can’t help it.” Her eyebrows furrowed as she was already exasperated, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.

Merkel chuckled at her protest before grabbing hold of her chin. “So beautiful yet so naïve little one. Did you think I planned to let you cum easily? Oh my sweet, I will simply hold you off until I decide you deserve to cum.”

She felt a slight shiver down her spine at the thought of how utterly torturing he was going to make her cum denial. Merkel was never one to play lightly.

-

Merkel lay her completely bare on the bed in front of him as he began to ever so slowly kiss his way down her navel, while his long fingers trailed their way up the insides of her thighs. She jolted slightly as she felt the cold silver of the ring of his middle finger connect with her skin, causing Merkel to press his hand to her left thigh to keep her in place.

“You remember my rule? You stay completely still until I’m finished, if you move then, well, you know the answer to that sweetheart.” His voice was almost hoarse now as he felt himself overcome by utter lust for the woman he was so desperate to pleasure. She meekly nodded in reply, knowing if she opened her mouth the only thing leaving it would be nothing more than a squeak.

He dipped his head between her thighs and placed a light kiss on her clit, a smirk forming on his lips as she almost threw herself towards him, but she knew better than to move. His lips then attached themselves to her now swollen clit as he began to rhythmically suck and lick, while his index and middle fingers toyed with her entrance, only dipping halfway before pulling back out. She was already a mess. Her thighs were quivering ever so slightly as Merkel scraped his teeth against her clit, moaning against her as he drank in every drop of arousal she was giving him. He had never tasted anything like her before, he could eat her pussy all night with no issues; except now he was experiencing his own ache. His trousers were now painfully tight around his cock, and this ache only worsened as he dipped his tongue inside her entrance, savouring the taste on his tongue. By now her stomach was in knots, she knew she couldn’t take much more before the desire for her release overcame every muscle in her body.

“Merkel, I’m, oh shit. I-I’m.” Her plea turned into a whimper as Merkel forcibly pulled himself away from her, placing a kiss on each of her knees before returning his gaze to her face. Both his lips and chin were coated in her arousal, and his hair was standing in every direction possibly.

“Ah, remember what I said little one, I decide when you cum.” He wiped his chin with his thumb before sticking it into his mouth, his eyes almost rolling back as he tasted the last of her arousal. He then removed his woollen sweater and trousers, palming himself over his boxers for some sense of stimulation as he studied the woman lied before him, his eyes taking in every curve and dimple.

Her eyes were almost begging for him to remove his boxers as she could already see the patches of pre-cum on the thin material. As if answering her prayers he stuck his fingers in the waistband and slid his boxers down his legs, stepping out of them as he made his way onto the bed, hovering over her before grabbing hold of her hips and flipping her onto her stomach. 

He slowly lined himself up behind her, a slight groan leaving him when he felt her folds contract against his tip. He gave her a kiss on the shoulder before easing himself into her, allowing her walls a few seconds to adjust to his length while he relished in the feeling of her warmth around him, something he had almost pined for during his time away. When she began to buck her hips backwards slightly to indicate that she was ready for more he removed himself from her completely, snaking his hand around her neck and squeezing gently before slamming himself back into her. He began to quite literally fuck her into the mattress, biting her shoulder every so often causing her to yelp and whimper as his pace only seemed to get quicker, which posed an issue for the woman underneath him. 

Once again she could feel her stomach begin to tighten as the pressure between her legs was almost unbearable, but she knew that trying to reason with Merkel would get her nowhere, so she had to take it upon herself to gather every single ounce of her self control. Her moans and whines were only become more choked as her walls clenched tightly around him, his hand tightening around her throat as he tried to delay his own orgasm. 

“You like that, don’t you my sweet? You fucking love me fucking you, you can’t get enough of my cock hm? Listen to that. Listen to how wet you are for me.” He drawled in her ear, almost sending her completely over the edge as he rocked his hips against her behind, making sure to hit every good spot inside her he could manage.

“Mm, M-Merkel, right there. Oh, please, just. Don’t. Stop.” She choked as he slammed into her once more, but he knew what this request meant: she was on the edge. He slowly pulled himself out if her, making her whine in frustration as the warm sensation within her stomach began to disperse.

He gently rolled back onto her back, chuckling as he saw the frown rooted in her expression. “So impatient hm? You haven't changed at all.” His hand cupped her cheek as he kissed her deeply, every nagging feeling of his seemed disappear into the kiss, every qualm he had over the past couple of months was eased as he rubbed his nose against hers, a sigh of relief overcoming him as he enjoyed this momentary peace.

Once he regained his composure he loomed himself above her, parting her legs with one hand as he wiggled himself between them, pressing himself against her entrance as he kissed her once again. 

“If you do not break eye contact with me then I will let you cum.” He murmured against her lips, waiting for her nod in response before once again easing himself into her; but this time it was different. He was less hungry now, less desperate to feel every inch of her so quickly. No, this time he studied her face as he pleasured her, the way her chest rose sharply in time with each thrust, and the parting of her mouth as he moved against her walls over and over. His thrusts were more sloppy now, he knew it wouldn’t take much more to get him to his release. But it wasn’t his orgasm he was focussed on. 

He stuck his thumb into her parted lips and ran it along her tongue for a few seconds before connecting it with her clit, rubbing slow and hard circles on her. As her eyes began to close he grabbed her chin, growling slightly to remind her of his instruction. She looked deep into his tired, green eyes as her legs began to quiver, and the shake uncontrollably as her back arched off the bed, her chest pressed against his as she yelped and whined.

“Oh, Merkel. Oh my- fuck, Merkel. I mean fuck.” She cursed as her long awaited orgasm overcame every sense she had, her hands gripping onto whatever she could reach as her toes curled and her teeth dug into her bottom lip. She could’ve sworn she saw his eyes light up slightly at the sight of her pure pleasure, as he suppressed a satisfied smile at knowing he had pleased her so intensely.

His smile soon disappeared as his lips pursed, his right hand gripping onto her hair as his left hand held onto her waist, his hips jolting as she felt the warmth of his release inside her. His eyes never left hers as his high washed over him, every pent up feeling of guilt and frustration had left him as he kissed her ear and then moved himself to lie next to her.

“Merkel, that was, like nothing I’ve never experienced before.” She giggled to herself as she turned to face him, but his expression had turned back to the stony, stern one she was greeted with when he arrived. No matter how many times she tried to pry into his personal life he revealed nothing, not one detail about where he worked or his life in Berlin. He was very much a closed book, never one to allow his mask to slip, to allow anyone access to his demons.

“You should sleep, you probably had a busy day.” He mumbled to her, stroking down her side, urging sleep upon her so he didn’t have to endure her interrogation about where he had been the past eight months. Deep down he wanted to tell her, and maybe one day he would, when he was free.

He sat up and fumbled around in the pocket of his coat before producing his wallet, counting through the various currencies littered in it before she held his arm. “You know, I wish sometimes you didn’t pay me. I don't do this for the money with you, I do it-”

“Nonsense, I came here for a service, received it.” He cut her off, keeping his eyes on his wallet so he couldn’t bear witness to the pain he had just caused her. She hated how quickly he could flick the switch inside himself. How quickly he could go from being almost devoted to her to cold and blasé about her feelings. He leaned over her to place the money on her bedside table before lingering in the position for a few seconds. He shook his head and stood up, swiftly redressing himself without removing his gaze from the floor, it was better this way, for both of their benefit.

-

She sat upright on her bed holding a pillow to her chest, she knew he’d be back. It might be months from now, but she knew he’d come back to her. No matter how pissed she might be in this moment, she knew she wouldn’t be able to help herself when she saw his tall frame at her door and felt his gaze land on her once again.

Thank you once again for reading! I really do appreciate it and hearing all of your opinions :) If anyone would like to be added to a tag list let me know!

Blogs I think may like this: @roman-cek @ill-skillsgard @dreamtherapy @skrsgardspam @theskarsgardcult @bskarsgardlove92 @emmyrosee @anastasiaskarsgard @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass