#god let us loose so we can stray further and further from him and come back

[dromaeotrash]

.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚘𝚑"

PART 8: CAT BOYS 

... it’s late into the night and y/n is streaming with one of her new friends, sykkuno. running on caffeine and redbull is apparently not enough because she falls asleep on his shoulder 45 minutes into their cyberpunk gameplay. at that exact moment, twitter goes up in flames.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (because i was threatened by thirsty anons) ─── soc. media + written fiction!  ─── word count: 1.8k author’s note: here it is...what yall been asking for. literally had to add a new part for this but i loved this idea sm i couldnt just nOT NOT do it. i tried writing this with the same energy as the smau lmao so expect chaos as always. hope you enjoy it and as always lmk what u think! hopefully yall wont go too feral, but tbh thats prolly too much to ask for xx EDIT: srr for the fucky format tumbler dot com is being lame 

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.   ҉   next.

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Such a back and forth continues for the better part of the day as you get ready. Corpse only whines a bit when you forget to text him back - you are packing, and your prestigious cat ears you bought from Amazon for 10$ deserve exquisite care - which only fuels your seemingly bottomless hunger for mischief, leading to you sneakily ignoring him more. When your phone lights up with a message, you giggle, giddy with excitement. Your laughter only gets louder and more erratic, to the point where Rae had busted down your door and threw her Hello Kitty plush at you - one you’d gotten her, mind you! - and told you to just “Shut the fuck up!”

Ungrateful. You know not everyone can appreciate your sense of humor, or stand your hyena like cackle, but that was uncalled for and you told her as much. Noting the mess your room is in (more than usual, that’s for certain), she leans onto the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest, pretty brown eyes twinkling curiously, “Where you off to?”

“So I had this idea-” You start, but are promptly shut down with a raise of her palm.

“Already know it’s a bad one.”

Insulted, and hurt, you clutch your heart. As if she had not mocked you enough today, “Rae...The hell, that’s so mean...” You mutter, face scrunching into a soft frown, “I only wanted to tell you what me and Syk thought of.”

“Oh?” Intrigued, she raises a brow, “Continue.”

“Gee, thanks for letting me this time.” You mumble, rolling your eyes, “So. We thought we’d stream together. The catch? In the same room! We’ll be playing Cyberpunk. Gotta cash in while the hype is still up.” You add, making her snort, “And, ya know, the whole cat boy business...We’ll be wearing matching cat ears. Admit it, I’m a genius.”

She’s quiet for a moment, mulling over your words; you can practically see the gears in her head turning. She glances around the room, then briefly at you, strangely apprehensive. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Well, that is definitely not what you expected her to say. You figured it’d be more along the lines of you’d be one ugly cat. “Huh?” Is all you manage to stutter, “What do you mean?”

She gives you a look, one all people give when something is so plainly obvious, “Y/n. You do know the stans will go wild, right? And you do remember our conversation involving Corp-”

“Nope!” You exclaim cheerily with a bright smile to match. You don’t want to think about that. The relationship between you and Corpse is strictly platonic, and besides, seeing Twitter loosing their shit is always funny, and you never miss an opportunity to mess with your fans. Sykkuno is also a good friend, albeit a new one. This supposed flirting from Corpse’s end Rae deduced was nothing more than her projecting her feelings onto the situation. She always liked shoujo anime and was probably thinking one was happening right in front of her. Not a chance. Corpse was just being a friendly crackhead. Your energies mesh beautifully.

Like, beautifully in a strictly friend way. Absolutely nothing more than that.

She gives up, naturally, arguing with a wall would be more productive than arguing with you. You’re such a (Zodiac sign).

“Well,” She mumbles, ticking her head to the side, leaning off of the door frame and turning to leave, “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

Your grin melts as soon as she leaves. Glancing at your bag, you shove your last necessities in with newfound hesitance. 

Nothing bad will happen, right?

...Right?

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It is well past the generally set “appropriate” time to hang out, but since quarantine, what is appropriate anymore anyway? You’ve never been in Sykkuno’s apartment, but now that you’re here it’s...strangely him. Every corner seems tailored to his specific requirements. It’s cozy, and pleasantly warm - it’s a bit chilly in LA, as surprising as that is.

He’s even shyer than you remember him being. And a whole lot more awkward, but in an endearing way, a way that makes you want to laugh and try to reassure him that it’s just you and he has nothing to worry about. While you hung out only once, the history you share is rich and tender. From him following you on Twitter and subsequently prematurely ending your stream, to kidnapping a stray cat affectionately named Juan. His long lost brother, Juan (no the Second, just Juan), lives in your Minecraft server. 

His stream room is sadly bare. There’s an appalling lack of merch or fairy lights. Not even led-lights. It’s a good thing you brought your own. As you try to decided which color would be best - his signature lime green, reminiscent of his adorable Among Us astronaut, or, perhaps, mischievous violet? - he boots the game and tweets out a quick “streaming with y/n in ten mins! come one come all!” 

“You should probably tell your fans, too.” He mumbles, looking somewhere above your shoulder. You settle with cherry blossom pink. Glancing at him, you shrug.

“Ah, do it for me, please?”

“Oh!” He hiccups, “Uhm, I wouldn’t want to pry and I don’t know your password and-”

“It doesn’t have a password.” You had removed it, knowing something like this would happen. Bless your foresight, you did not want him to know it was demonspiitinmymouth. Before he could protest further, you rush to the nearest mirror to put on your cat ears and make sure they aren’t crooked. You look absolutely adorable. The cat boys in your dms will go feral. Hell, you might just go feral looking at yourself! Sykkuno is not ready. No one is. This will be a stream to remember.

When you return (with flourish of course), he’s anxiously fidgeting by his computer, his own little cat ears, one’s he wore for the Halloween stream, peaking out from his silky brown hair. You have to suppress a squeal. When he catches you gaze he gives the kindest, sweetest little smile.

“They, uh--” He points at you, then decides it’s rude to point, bringing his hand back to his lap, then clutching his mouse, lastly releasing a sound stuck between a chuckle and a wheeze, “suit you, uhm, a lot!” He finishes with a resolute nod, quickly spinning in his chair and away from you.

This is the reaction you desired. All is going according to plan. Is this what God feels like? If not, then you pity her. She’s missing out.

Taking a seat next to him - he had been gracious enough to haul you a spare chair from the kitchen - you draw closer, and he, instinctively, shrinks away with another nervous chuckle. 

“You have, uhm... I-I didn’t look!” He quickly chimes. You raise a brow, “Uhm, unopened messages? From Corpse? He texted you when I was tweeting! I didn’t mean to look, I’m sorry-”

Instantly, you recall the famous vine with the scandalous “daddy chill” line, though refrain from saying it aloud. You love havoc, but you’re not evil (Rae would ardently disagree with you, though). Instead, you just shrug, “’S fine, don’t worry. I’ll text him back later. Let’s start?”

He nods, but doesn’t look at you. Granted, you don’t think he glanced at you even once since you returned, “...Okay. Ready?”

“Ready!”

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You’re much too immersed into the game and Sykkuno’s twitch chat to even check what’s happening on Twitter, but your estimated guess is that everyone’s going crazy. The stream chat is unruly as well, but missing the signature Twitter spark. Most of the chaos is bravely lead by your fans. Sykkuno’s, much like the man himself, are too nice to scream so unabashedly.

Perhaps you excitement had been a bit too taxing, perhaps drinking 5 coffees and 2 energy drinks today and not enough water are to blame for the sudden drowsiness you’re feeling, but you can’t focus on the swimming chat or the abundance of cut-scenes at the starting point of the game. You steadily draw nearer and he, more composed in front of his audience, doesn’t react. About ten more minutes of hoovering by his shoulder and muttering soft commentary, and you feel yourself slipping.

The last coherent thought you have is a few choice words directed at caffeine itself for having the opposite effect of you at the worst time possible.

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You float in oblivion for perhaps ten minutes at best. Once you awake with a startle, you shower Sykkuno in shy apologies and he quickly reassures you that it’s fine and that he didn’t mind at all!

“Though,” He adds after a thoughtful pause, “not sure if it was very, uh, comfortable?”

His stream chat spams uwu and variations of similar kind. The stream continues for a few more hours before the both of you wish everyone a good night. 

While you planned on wreaking absolute havoc, this sudden falling asleep was unexpected. You pondered the consequences of such an innocent, unplanned act whilst ubering home, fearing to check your phone which by now was blowing up with not only Twitter notifications but also Rae’s angry messages that vaguely read “what the fuck y/n”. Within the past two hours she had left 57 messages on all platforms collectively, including 7 calls. 

Corpse’s last text was over three hours ago.

Now that’s strange. Worry festers quickly. Briefly glancing at your surroundings - the pretty glimmer of passing street lights, neon signs, familiar buildings - you decide that it’s time to check what kind of nuclear explosion you’ve caused.

Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach as you scroll past the hundreds of tweets and mentions. Scan through Rae’s messages. 

You had failed to prepare ahead. Every explosion of such kind is followed by nuclear winter. And Corpse’s lack of messages feels especially cold.

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Not you smiling like a fucking idiot reading his last message! You shrink into the backseat, afraid the driver will accidentally look into the rear-view mirror and see you a bit too happy before asking questions. Good news? Yeah, but it’s not like it’s his any beeswax! In the words of Rihanna, just shut up and drive. 

This argument had not yet happened, but you’re preparing, just in case. 

As you think up of potential scenarios, your eyes drill into Corpse’s goodnight text. You’ve looked at it enough. Time to turn the phone screen off. Leave the app, at the very least. When the screen dims you instantly press on it to wake it up. This is embarrassing. Maybe the deadly amount of caffeine really did mess you up, big time. Your heart races in your chest, painfully almost. You feel a bit sick. Worst of all, you can’t stop smiling.

A notification from Rae makes you snap out of it. Ah, one more demon to deal with. 

However, before you talk to her, you really need to tell Twitter that you’re not with Sykkuno. And apologize to Sykkuno as well. 

At least Corpse doesn’t hate you.

Fucking hell, just exit the chat you idiot!

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[sugar-petals]

#Scream For Me (m)

↳ PAIRING. sub!hyunjin x domme!reader

↳ SUMMARY. It’s his first time. You’re in charge. He lets loose. 

↳ WORDS. 3k

warnings ⚠️ spit play, fingering, blindfolds, ribbon bondage, handjobs, casual domination, oral (f receives), slow dick riding, as you can tell by the title he’s very loud, sloppy sex, choking, aftercare

♡ NOTE ➝ surprise surprise, writing for stray kids today! vocal hyunjin is domme candy👌

“I’ll be very gentle,” you hook two fingers down the hem of his jeans. Hyunjin quickly nods: Both your attention lies on just how much his pants are bulging out already. As long as you stay focussed, surely this will be a calm first time for him— Well, we’ll see about that. In fact, if you already knew what is slumbering inside of him? You’d get fucking ready.

“Can I please touch you as well?”

He’s fumbling at your thighs, your dress, and you can feel his nervousness in the fingertips already.

“You can. But first— Mommy unwraps her present. You know how it goes.“

And it’s a big present, I’m telling you. So big, you have a hard time smoothly unzipping him in one go. And since his hips won’t hold still — God is he sensitive to touching, but hey, what’s not to like — undressing him takes some real maneuvering. It’s not easy to whip a 300 feet yacht out of some average harbor. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Uh-huh. Something I can work with right there.”

A bit of lube distributed in both hands, a deep breath, now you’re good to go. You give it a few pumps to accommodate Hyunjin to your touch. As expected: He’s not very stoic about it. Even though he’s fully reclined on your bed, and it couldn’t be any cozier, he bucks up.

“Ah!“

“Don’t worry. Just teasin’. Here,” you give him access to your dress by lifting it past your hip. His left hand finds its way past your underwear pretty fast. Guess who’s relieved by a distraction from his spike in arousal. Now that you think about it, he might like some casual handjobs in the daytime or while driving. During cuddles, maybe. 

How not to touch him all day. He’s all big and girthy, he reacts well. Your fingers fits perfectly around him, too. Hyunjin’s nice as fuck to hold and stroke. Not to mention lightning fast when it comes to reciprocating. He’s shy about a lot of things, and that’s because of having few experience, but not about being mutual. Green flag.

“So wet...”

“Just for you. Go ahead, take a dip.“

Hyunjin definitely looks like he’s having the time of his life just fingering you. Freestyle, no rules, no strategies. He delights in just pleasing you at every angle. Fuck, his hands are so nice. At one point, you resort to ripping off your panties altogether. Easier access. He gets even harder in your palm.

“Is that good?”

“That’s good, babe. Keep on circling.”

Those lips probably make for an even more unruly type of stimulation between your legs. If they’re only half as lawless, Jesus you’ll be spiralling already. They’re so nice and plump. Big cock, big lips, is there some sort of correlation? Anyway. Hyunjin feels like the type to eat pussy obsessively, so. But you think you have to be careful introducing him to it. Knowing him, he’d straight up suffocate himself on first try. Hwang Hyunjin, death by pussy.

“Can I try it with my lips as well, please?“

Fate has its way of doing things, huh. And he knows you’ve been looking at his lips, doesn’t he.

“I’ll only let you kiss and suck until I count to thirty. Wait, let me get on my back.”

“Okay!”

Switching spots lets you feel the warmth where Hyunjin just led his back. He doesn’t waste much time. One blink and he props up his lips at your entrance, waiting for instructions. Well shit.

“Keep it shallow,” you get a fistful of his hair. “Kiss, kiss. Like that. Move it just an inch upward. Don’t touch your cock, I still wanna ride it later. Lay flat on the bed. Put your hands around my thighs. 29, 28...“

At that prospect, he becomes even more obedient. His tongue doesn’t do a bad job at all. Oh wonder, he breathes just fine. First time eating you out: You get the impression that this guy has some serious talent there.

“Tastes really good. It’s all bubbly,“ Hyunjin smiles bright from ear to ear. You’ve just stopped counting by now.

“Ugh, fuck it. Just eat, eat.”

That goes on for almost five minutes, in fact. He licks and services you perfectly. That his lips feel ten times more sensual than they already look has your breath going much shorter and your grip in his hair much tighter. So much about making assumptions. And it makes sense, not having his cock stimulated has Hyunjin cooling down a little. Suspiciously so. 

When you were stroking him off, he’d go wild right along. Conclusion: Handjobs and Hyunjin are like pressing a red button. Eating pussy: Chill area. Noted. Complete slobbery wetness: Also noted. You wonder what that’s good for.

“Hyunjin, should we go for it now? I want you inside me. You’ll slip right in so nicely. I’ll take good care of you, you don’t have to be nervous.“

“Can we kiss while we do it?”

Nothing you’d love more. You lay Hyunjin just where he started out, get a soft black ribbon from the nightstand. As promised, you tie his arms above his head, not too tightly or anything. A simple bow tie keeps the whole thing together, making it easy to open. The loose ends dangle at the sides of his wrists, teasing his skin. Goosebumps. It all makes for a nice view of his arms, and his head is brought a little forward, it’s perfect to kiss. He’s practically on the verge of kissing without you moving your lips close to his.

Starting with a little peck on the forehead and nose, you make sure he feels well in his position and get a second black ribbon to tie his eyes. A bit tighter, just so it won’t come off when his head moves. The knot you place on the right side rather than the back of the head, it’d be uncomfortable against the pillow he’s rested on. Hyunjin gets more and more excited.

“I want you to just feel. Do you want me to start?”

 “Yes—,” he says. “And, do it slowly. I don’t want you to hurt yourself also.“

He’s so sweet. And he knows his dick is kinda massive. Too many first times ruined because of that. 

“Extra slow, Hyunjin. I’ll make this feel really great for us. Come, kiss me.”

Your tongues connect just when you get hold of him with your right hand. The touch has Hyunjin groaning into the kiss—

Pretty fucking strongly.

There he goes again. Your fingers, red button, the whole shebang. Little did you know he’d start whining even more the second you line him up between your pussy lips, and move his tip around a bit. Just to say hi to your clit, and to give yourself a good feel of what’s going in first. Hyunjin is literally falling apart below you already. He can barely keep it in. 

And you can’t keep it out: Finally, you point his cock tip between your labia, and his saliva is just perfect to help you glide it past the entrance. Hyunjin’s kisses are getting hungry and desperate, and even louder, with heavy breaths along the way. 

“Jesus Christ,” he’ll catch you mumbling, and you can feel his dick throbbing. “Let me hear you!”

“You’re squeezing me! Oh shit, shit!”

Looks like someone’s very passionate to say the least. It didn’t stop with the handjob, then. Any kind of contact with his dick is having Hyunjin’s voice do somersaults. Guess why he’s walking around so noisily all day when he’s just walking and his pants do their thing like, giving him a good rub even if it’s just lightly on the surface.

With reactions like that, Hyunjin’s dick is well inside of you without any further ado. Boyfriend moaning, pussy open. While you’re enjoying the feel of being completely full with him, and imagine how deep his spit is being thrust inside you — oh god, yes — Hyunjin seems to have his own imaginations. The blindfold was both a good and a bad idea. He can’t anticipate your next move, but he also seems to feel you sliding him in twice as much. 

“Are you thinking I’m some kind of succubus, huh.”

You tease, wiggle your hips. Causing one loud fucking moan.

“It feels that way, ah!”

“Are you gonna scream your lungs out when I start moving, hm?“

“I can’t control it!”

“Let’s see then.”

You lean back into the kiss, bent forward just enough to change the way his dick is aligned inside of you all over again. A little bounce and the position is perfect.

“Wow, look. This is a good angle. It just goes right in.”

“Hn—!”

It’s amazing how he reacts at your mercy. Your kisses stifle the moans, but they also make him more on edge because he wants to let it out. Congrats, you’ve found the officially best way to torture him. 

“So. How about doing this.”

You raise your hips. It takes quite some effort to pull him out that far because he’s so girthy. It’s literally pulling at your walls as if they don’t wanna let him go. You do it slowly, terribly slow, every millimeter has your pussy lips deliciously tracing another facet of him. Moving up means cleaning some more saliva off his shaft. It all goes inside you. God bless his runny mouth while he was eating you out. 

Only Hyunjin’s tip remains inside of you. The air hitting what was previously buried inside you makes for a surefire way to make him break the kiss and bite his lips. 

“My cock! My, ah, my!”

His hands are all wobbly above his head. As are his legs behind you. 

“How are we taking it down there.”

“If you do that hip thing again, I can’t guarantee anything!“

So that’s what makes his heart beat faster.

“I’d be damn cruel making you cum so early, darling. Sooner or later I’ll milk all your semen anyway.“

Well, succubus indeed.

“I’ll just blow up, I can’t!“

“You’re lucky I won’t be riding you full-speed or something. You’re just too big for that. But what if I do the hip thing and you can’t cum?”

“Oh fuck!“

For good measure, you nuzzle him generously, and yes, do the thing. The agony in his expression is not even the full effect of what you’ve done. Hyunjin is screaming out loud. 

“And that was with a warning. I’ll do it again and if you can stand it, you get some pussy in your face. Wanna get treated?”

“Please, please treat me!”

“But first...”

To add some extra spice, you push down to his base all over again. Hyunjin arches, his teeth are almost sewn shut from the pressure of his tight jaw. Once he’s balls deep, you flick your hip just a little. A loud moan simmers into a little mewl, the jaw unclenches, his tongue starts lapping out. You’ve truly shut off his brain right now.

“Very well done.”

Pulling out works faster now, but you notice how it’s not as slippery anymore. A lot of Hyunjin’s spit has gathered around the lower third of his dick. It’s a nice sight to have it drip on his terribly swollen balls that are probably going through a whole bunch of things right now. 

“Good thing you get something to slurp on. We need more spit. Use your mouth!”

Hyunjin’s cock being untouched right now seems to take the edge off, but his mouth, holy shit. His mouth is on an eager spree to wet you up all over. On top of your own lubrication, Hyunjin provides another ridiculous amount of leakage all over your clit and folds. It’s running all over his face. 

The blindfold gets soaked as does his nose. A frantically moaning Hyunjin doesn’t seem to stop slurping and pushing out spit, you swear he’s gonna fucking drown. That method. It’s completely chaotic just like his fingering. You weren’t wrong, then. He might die then, but at least you’re able to remove the blindfold, wearing that is too gross. Hyunjin is excitedly blinking at you through his own spit like the sun is blinding him but he doesn’t mind.

“Mnm—nh!”

“I love you. Amazing. Look at this. You’re so nasty. Come, let’s do this again. Hope that cock can push all that into me. It’s too good to waste.“

You get back to squatting on his dick, admittedly a little wobbly on the mattress now. Hyunjin’s satanic ritual tongue does not go without a notice. Nor does the way you slide back down on him, and back up.

“Oh woah!”

A clean thrust. Your pussy is dripping so much on him, a little stream glosses over the thread of veins on the underside. Before it reaches down and disappears between his thighs, you make sure to collect it with another thrust. Hyunjin stares just right at his cock disappearing in you, framed by your labia stretching out. His jaw is completely dropped.

“Yes, that’s how we’re looking like. You have a great cock. Listen to that sound.”

Smooth gliding and a wet little smack when you touch down.

“It’s, it’s amazing... It feels so warm and creamy.”

“Watch. I’ll be stirring your spit all inside me.“

Slowly, carefully, you ride him again, this time connecting several thrusts. Hyunjin looks adorable with his wide eyes and sweaty face. 

“Yes! Oh yes, oh.... That feels so good.”

“Nothing wasted. You’re doing really well. You’re good at this.“

You lean in for a deep kiss. Only after you tongue him down do you realize just how much he’s ruined his mouth. It’s so sticky and wet, and his lips are so exhausted. They’ve been swelling up more than you thought they would, he’s really put them to the test like a champ. Well, they’ve lost their virginity, too. The kiss ends with two wet mouths parting by a thread.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes. I really love it. Thank you, Hyunjin. Can I finish off first? I wanna use my hands to make you cum.“

“You’re the best,“ he becomes flustered, and watches in awe just how you reposition yourself all over again, pointing his cock at his belly flat this time. It’s perfect to just grind right above it. A bit of fluid leaking from your pussy mixed with lube and spit makes for the best slippery help to get your clit some intense stimulation from gliding squarely across Hyunjin’s bit vein. 

“Fucking hell, babe. That’s a wonder dick.”

How he throbs and pulsates is the last push it needs to get close. You loosen the tie of Hyunjin’s ribbon and his hands dart around you, hold you, and he winds his hips to give you more of the friction. 

But this time, he’s moving faster, and your orgasm arrives quicker than you count from 30, not even that. You get messy on his balls and base, and Hyunjin almost loses it from having you grind on him. That he’s been holding it in until now is a miracle. His hair is nothing but sweaty streaks right now.

As soon as the waves of pleasure become smaller and you can think again, both your and his hand come wrapping around his shaft. No problem moving your palms around, he’s covered in all that honey. Plus there’s more space, he could fit three palms. It feels so intimate doing it together and being in sync. Hyunjin’s broken moans and whines are well accompanied by more hip bucks and a quicker pace. Your two hands squeezing up and down makes Hyunjin start to beg to you.

“Please use the other hand, please, please choke me through this!“

You go for a lighter grip, hell, he hasn’t done this before, but Hyunjin isn’t having it. The protest is all loud and clear.

“Squeeze my throat! Please, harder, do it hard, please!”

You press down at either side of his neck, and make sure to translate that onto his cock as well, still jerking him off. You don’t let go until he’s cumming. 

A thick white spurt empties between the intertwine of your fingers. Hyunjin squeals out loud, catching air, almost crying. Another load has him all shaky, growling, and rubbing his own hand around yours to push out even the last bits of sperm. Surprise, there’s more cum leaking out.

“Oh, what to do with all that big dick.”

“It’s, it’s so much!“

“Come here with that milk.“

You lower your face on him and let the last clear bits come up against your puckered lips. They spread his cum all over the tip, kiss it, catch new threads, swirl them around while your hands are pumping the lower half, all the meaty girth. Never missing an opportunity for torture. Hyunjin is screaming and suffering all over again. His semen has been oozing all over your hands. 

“Clean it, babe. We’ll lay down in a minute. That’s an amazing icing.”

Hyunjin’s tongue has a last job and it does it well. Your fingers are super clean and well-kissed, his lips are so glorious. You’re both dizzy, but you at least manage to towel down. Because his face is a mess, your lips are dripping, your pussy is a swimming pool of spit, and that ruined dick has seen some things today, oh yeah it did. What better way to leave its virginity inside of you all slicked up and sloppy. 

Hyunjin starts freezing very fast by now, and you get a weighted blanket, with you on top of him, in a sweater, just because. Sharing heat is caring heat. You love cuddles after sex.

“Say something cute and nasty,” he pouts, and you think of a good way to summarize the evening. 

“I mean look at you. You’re officially a slut now. My slut,” you pinch his nose. “If you want. Let’s have some fun like that tomorrow again. I can’t wait, you know. That’s a really loud boy I got myself.“

“Oh yes, tomorrow!”

“I might be blowing you for more of that icing. It was really nice and sugary.“

“I eat lots of fruit!”

Now that’s a keeper.

“And I gotta say, shit...“

“You came really hard on my dick, right.”

Hyunjin makes an innocent face saying that, but you know very well how he’s been taking you in, he’s learning.

“Yeah.“

“That was that sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He smiles a little, exhausted, but flustered. 

“Lot more to come. That’s only the first time for you.”

“I’ve been thinking that as well. Say it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen until tomorrow.“

“Exactly right. That’s the idea,” you kiss his neck now, breathing in the afterglow. “And, by the way. Um. I hope I removed the ribbons at the right timing.“

“It was in the right moment!“

“Should we try more like that next time?”

“I like it.“

“Me too. You look perfect tied up.”

The blindfold did the trick, you know it. Hyunjin has hardly reacted to your touch like that when cuddling. Although, that’s hard to compare, is it.

“And... You really could have choked me a little harder by the way.“

Hyunjin knows just how to mimic you. Another nose pinch for you, young man.

“We didn’t plan it so I thought I’d go easy on you. But if you like it. You want it rougher, don’t ya. You just wanna fucking scream.“

“I’ll admit it,” he nuzzles his face into your sweater. “I’m just very loud...”

“We’ll see what kind of ideas I’ll come up with to get you even louder. Deal?”

“Favorite deal.“

FINAL NOTE. thank you for reading - caro 🐅

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[plush-rabbit]

Dirty Talking - Simeon

A/N: Simeon lives in my mind rent free and I love him (this also loosely follows the kinks i have for him so if you haven't taken a look,,, well do it if you want to)

An angel, holy and above you, untouchable when the moonlight hits against his dark skin, and touchable when he lies beside you illuminated by a dying light bulb. Simeon's mouth is on your neck, a gloved hand covering your mouth as your lips circle his waist. His words cause your face to burn, a growing ache that pains your sex. He whispers, only able to describe how you look beneath and ignoring his own wishes and internal struggle. Simeon has been around for many years and due to the status that he holds, he’s used to giving- miracles and healing to the best of his ability and freedom. Praise has always been something that he’s given freely and been told. While he’s always given praise, after a while, it ran cold. Yet, with you, his praise is warm. It’s giving and warm.

"My little lamb," Simeon murmurs, eyes narrowed as his lips touch against your beating pulse, "so precious, and desperate for something to touch your sinful body." His hand edges closer to your pelvis, the soft fabric of his glove a tease as you pray for his bare hand to touch your trembling body. The gloved hand touches against your sex, the fingertips of the glove becoming translucent from your arousal. You jerk your legs, your stomach tightening as your heart begins to pound against your ribcage. “So excited for me to touch you,” he mutters, eyes becoming dark with lust. “My, my,” he breathes, licking lightly against your neck, feeling your pulse quicken, “I have to admit that your beauty is something that outshines the beauty of anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Simeon is caring. There's only so much he can do to prevent his own falling and sex happens to be a very thin line he can cross. Whether it's your first time with him or with anyone- it's his first time. He has moments where he’s slipped, fisted his hand around his cock and arched against a flat surface, near tears as his climax approaches. Of course, as an angel, he does want your virginity- he won’t shame you if you aren’t, but there’s this perverse side of him that wants you to be virgin to have you lay on your back begging for him to be gentle.

He can’t help the whine that escapes his lips when his cockhead enters your sweet, enveloping sex. "You truly are divine," Simeon whispers above you. Your eyes fill with tears, your bottom lip trembling and when he cups your face with a bare hand, your face is heated. “You needn’t worry, love-” his lips are against yours in a passionate kiss, a moan muted between the kiss as he pushes deeper inside of your clenching sex- “I’ll make sure it feels good.” He hides his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the beating heart beat against his cheek. Something slick drips down his twitching cock, his face taking on a vulgar expression as you moan pitifully beside him, your arms and legs wrapping around him. You call his name, whispering it below your breath, sullying the word of God with every thrust, dirting his own name with your wanton sounds of pleasure.

During emotionally intimate moments, the poet that Simeon is starts to come out. He is well-spoken, and has told you his feelings countless times, each phrase more beautiful than the last, more breathtaking than anything you’ve ever been told. But during more physically intimate moments, he will fall flat, stuttering ever so slightly during the romantic parts of it, edging closer and holding your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. He’ll tell you everything good, and want you to feel the warmth that you give to him. During a moment with you, he's sweet, kissing against your waiting body, praising you until the words are the only thing you can coherently think of.

His lips are sweet on your body, lips meeting skin and grazing you with everything pure like honey against sugar, a sweetness that can make your heart flutter and stomach ache from the foreign flavor. "I promise you," his breath is warm against his body and under the warm light from his room, the soft pale moonlight that peeks between the blinds, “I’d protect you with everything that I have.” He’s gentle, ever loving and pure, unfiltered as he kisses your lips, and when he opens his eyes, they glisten, tears falling onto your skin as he lets out a moan. “I’d rip my wings with my own bare hands if it meant that I could hold your hand.” Simeon is true, honest and familiar. “You needn’t worry about my actions, I know what I’m doing, my little lamb.”

Being an angel is tricky. There are areas where Simeon can wade further into the pool so long as it's closer to God themselves. He'll blindfold you, lay you bare on his bed, legs spread with candles lighting the room. Simeon will be above you, his hands roaming your body and inching deeper into your aching hole. He’ll feel your slick drip down his fingers and onto his knuckles, the loud clicking of your stretched hole echoing in the room. Your eyes are covered, not a seeing shed of light being penetrated through as Simeon purifies you.

“Now, what exactly do we say when an angel is choosing to purify you of your sins?” Always a strong soldier of God, never faltering but when it comes to you, he decides that you truly must be something sinister and accompanied with the life of Devildom, it only fueled the sin inside of you to taint the angel above you. Your thanks comes out in a shaky voice, tears wetting the fold that covers your eyes. Simeon tilts his head, eyes looking through your contaminated soul- dirtied with every sin that humanity has created, so depraved that you’re willing to recity yourself with the help of an actual angel. “Now then, confess your sins to me, my dearest.”

Simeon is an angel and while good, he can be tricky- harsh and unforgiving, merciless when you start to stray from your faith. As much as he cares for you- the sexual aspect of the relationship can ruin his standing as an angel, it might be enough for him to fall. There is a sinister side of him, one that is the true, biblical angel that Simeon is- one that wants absolute perfection and blest from you, that wants you to devote yourself to him. Following and loving an angel is enough to get you into the good place so long as he also commits to his role. But with you on your knees, he'll hold the back of your head, keeping your throat full as he tells you prayers, having you recite them when you come back for breath.

Eyes are watching your body, knelt of your knees, tears streaming down your face and your cheeks are flushed, a cute, innocent doe-eyed look on your face. “You come to me, heart heavy and soul full of all that is wicked.” His hands hold your hair tighter, the feeling of your fingertips pressing against his thighs. “I am allowing you to repent, please dear, I know you can listen and I know how well you are at taking orders so for all that is holy under God’s light, please don’t make me repeat my words.” His smile stretches widely, the fat of his cheeks pushing against his eyes. “I’m only going to repeat myself once, understood?” Your response vibrates against his cock, your mouth filling with an ethereal taste of something sweet. “Wash me from my guilt and cleanse me of my sin. I acknowledge my offense; my sin is before always. Amen.” When he pulls you away from his cock, spit and arousal stick like spiderwebs, to your tongue and chin.

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits,  but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

[youn9racha]

I Know (Part II)

Pairing: Changbinxfem!reader

Genre: smut

Warning: mild stalking, stripping, phone sex???, mutual masturbation, semi-exhibitionism, a tiny bit of corruption kink, and an even tinier praise kink, switch!changbin, switch!reader

Words: 2.8k

Extra Notes: like I’ve mentioned in the last part, everyone is above the age of 21 (think senior year of college age), so thats that. I’ve also noticed that the lyric is not that related to the story, but oh well :’) anyways, hope you enjoy this

And baby, I know, I know whatever city you’re in, you’re still the boy that I’d pick…

PLEASE READ PART 1 FIRST BEFORE THIS !!

—————————————————————————————————

This is no way representative of the way Stray Kids act. They’re nothing but references of character, and in no shape or form is this how they act. And I am in no way romanticizing or glamorizing any toxic behavior exhibited, they’re just stories that is meant to be read. Readers discretion is advised.

—————————————————————————————————

Changbin’s calling me…

What in the world does he want to talk to me about in this ungodly hour? It wasn’t late, but it certainly wasn’t early enough for a call like this. I looked back at the window and I still see the curtains still closed, assuming he was out or maybe in another room. I answered and put the phone in my ear.

”Hello?”

“Hey, (y/n)! I just wanted to call to check up on you,” he said, “how are you?”

Damn, he only called for innocent intentions... Why is he so damn cute?! (y/n), you got two choices to respond back; you either respond give him a nice sweet response, or you give a sly yet friendly comeback. It can work—

“(y/n)?” The voice out of the phone took me out of my inner self’s debate.

“Yes! Yes! I am fine,” I said, embarrassed and mentally facepalming myself. This is not doing well, he already thinks I am a creep and a loser. Or maybe not, since its seems like I heard a faint chuckle and the word “cute,” followed by, but that could just be a figment of my imagination. “How are you?”

”Oh, I am good, just came back from hanging out with Chan and Han,“ changbin responded, there were shuffling in the background so he could be doing something while on the phone, but what is it? I wouldn’t know. I heard him and Chris mentioning a ‘Han’ in our conversation we had while preparing for my apartment, so that name is familiar, however the owner’s not. “You should meet him one day, I think you both will be good friends.”

”Woah there, you better take me to dinner first before I meet your friend,” I teased. Keep it going, (y/n), you’re on the right track, you’ve definitely caught him off guard, like you always do.

“Give me a place, time, and date, you’ll get that dinner, or maybe I’ll let Chris take you.” Changbin nonchalantly said, oozing confidence just by his voice. That bitch… Always makes it harder for me than it already is. As if he saw my blushing reaction, he began laughing.

“What’s wrong, princess? Cat’s got your tongue?” He said it in a low voice. Usually, I would gag if anyone—let alone a man—calls me princess, but with him, it felt different. It felt… arousing? No! No! (y/n), get a grip!

I rolled my eyes and laid on my back to be more comfortable, “What is it, Changbin?” I said, changing the subject, “What is that you wanted to call me at 10 p.m?” Yes, pretend like he didn’t just call you princess in the sexiest tone of voice you’ve ever heard. Totally would work.

”I told you, I just want to check up on you,“ he confessed but he also paused to say something further, “and also I am bored and I kinda felt like talking to you. I’m not wasting your time, aren’t I?” Although I couldn’t see him, he does however sound really sincere with his words. I don’t want to sound naive, but he sounded truthful.

“No,” I shook my head, “you really didn’t, besides I just got out the shower and was just scrolling through instagram.” I said, looking down in my nails.

”Oh, really?” He said, “were you going to sleep?”

”No, I stay on social media for a long period of time, I don’t sleep that easily“

”I see,” he said, but then he stopped talking. As the awkward silence has erupted between us, I started to think more about the first time I saw him and how I felt. While I thought it would be better for me to tell him later on and on person, but this balloon inside of me was getting bigger and bigger as guilt is inflating it. I sighed and started to speak, “Hey Changbin.”

”Yeah?”

“Can I confess you to something?”

”Tell me anything, doll, I’m all ears.”

Dammit! You’re not making it easier.

I bit my lips, “uhh,” I am glad he wasn’t looking at me, grimacing and slapping my head.

”You know hitting yourself isn’t gonna help,” as soon as Changbin uttered these words, my heart sank. My eyes widened as I got up and looked out window. His curtains were open, and it showcase a very, very pleasant show.

I see Changbin, sitting at the edge of his bed, facing me as his black shirt was fitting his form really well, especially with the semi-flexed arm that has his phone near his ears meanwhile the other arm was holding the elbow of the occupied arm. He was look at me straight at my eyes when we made eye contact, and fuck, was that an image to look at. As I looked like a deer going through a headlight, Changbin tilted his head in confusion, but he still had a smirk, “what is it you wanted to me?” he said through the phone.

”I-I“ I stuttered. At this point, I’ve lost all sense of dignity and my self thought, I am about to get called a creep by a good looking man I met not too long. Here goes nothing.

”I may have invaded your privacy,” I said, which caused Changbin to furrow his eyebrows in even more confusion, still having a slight smile to it. “What are you talking about?”

”Ugh, Changbin, I saw you half naked when apartment touring numerous times!” I yelled in frustration, as he kept pushing my button. I looked away, not bearing to look at him, as I closed my eyes out of guilt. “I understand if you don’t want to be friend, even though we met for only a week, but I just couldn’t bear the guilt that I—“

As I confessed, I heard a laugh coming put of the phone, I opened my eyes and looked at Changbin looking down, with shoulders shaking up and down. Now, I have the confused look that he had, “What’s funny?”

“Oh, princess, you have no idea,” He said, still looking down. Me still being bemused, he noticed my silence and looked up at my frowned face.

”I know…” He smirked, while my eyes were widened. Son of a bitch.

”W-wh-“

“I thought you knew that I’m doing all this on purpose, I’ve been trying to catch your attention every single way.” He leaned forward, placing both elbows in his knees, “I thought you were smart, only to be a gullible baby.” He whispered the last part, as I gulped at the last part. God damn, he’s so intense with his gaze. His eyes wandering all over me meanwhile maintaining a very dark yet exciting aura, which typically puts me off but now, I’ve never wanted to pounce a man so badly.

I smirked at him, the guilt I had had fizzled away, only to replace with arousal.

“So you’re not mad?” I looked at him, with innocent eyes, now laying on my side, facing him, as my robe slipped and exposed a part of my shoulder and the upper of my chest. He breathed in, as he was examining me, “no, why would I be mad at you?” He leaned back, as his head was thrown back, neck exposed, placing his free hand on the back of his neck.

God, is he so fine…

”I could never be mad at my precious baby.” He smiled a seductive smile at me, which made me riled up by rolling my eyes and looking up. “You like getting called that, don’t you?” He may have said it in a question form, but it didn’t feel like one, it was rather a statement than a question. “Hm,” I said, looking back at him, eyes half opened out of hunger for him.

We had an intense eye contact, where if it weren’t for the distant and the glass that is placed in front of us, we’d probably be all over each other.

”Has your hang out with Han and Chris worn you out?” I asked, decievingly innocent. Man, the power this man has over me is no joke. He scoffed, “so you’re just going to mention other men like that?”

Ignoring him, I got up, letting the towel that was loosely in my head fall onto my bed, and went closer to the window, “let me relieve you of your stress, if you don’t mind.” I shyly fidgeted on my robe belt. He looked at me up and down, licking his lips, “I wouldn’t mind, if you don’t as well.”

There’s nothing more sexier than mutual consent. (y/n), shut up, don’t ruin the moment.

I smiled and backed away from the window. I put my phone on speaker and put it on the side. I looked back at him, as I held onto my robe belt, he looked at me with a smile. I turned around with a slight sway on my hips, as I slowly undid my belt, slowly exposing my back at him, smiling as I heard a shuddering breath coming out of the phone.

As the robe completely fell off my body, being just in my underwear, exposing whatever secret flaws that has been hidden from the public. I silently gasp at the cool breeze as I held onto my chest, sensing my nipples getting hard. “Turn around for me, baby,” Changbin’s breathy voice echoed all over the room.

We may not be in the same room, and we maybe exposing ourselves to whoever is above and under us as well, but neither of us care. In our eyes, we only got each other, and we’re the only ones in existence.

I turned to him, letting go of my breasts and letting myself be bare, only to see him palming himself through his tight pants, groaning at his lack of full on skin-to-skin touch. It’s like he was waiting for me to tell him touch himself, which proved correct when he said, “please, let me touch myself.”

I smiled sympathetically, and also slightly astonishingly. I have never met a man with such switch like that. His dominating demeanor has faded and been replaced to a submissive cutie, which I obviously seem to admire very much. Pretending to thinking, I sat down, and looked at him, putting my hands behind me, “only if you give me a show too.”

I smirked at his state. He was disheveled, and adorned a beet tint all across his cheeks and nose. He looked beaten, but I loved it, and he does too. He put his phone on speaker too, quickly got up, and rapidly got his shirt.

“Ah ah!” I said, which caused him to freeze, looking at me, desparation was seeping through his eyes. Menacingly smiling, “slowly.”

Which he obeyed, surprisingly patient and sensual, I jokingly remarked that “he got dancer hips,” with the way he took off clothes while his hips moved in a way not many who can control their bodies can. He chuckle, “you should see how it works wonder,” his cocky attitude has made a comeback, which should piss me off but it made the whole thing hotter than it already is.

We’re both in our underwear, looking up at our eyes and looking down at each other’s half-nude bodies. Changbin wasn’t the tallest man I have ever met—not that it matters—, but he got many aspects that makes up for it, and its not just looks or personality. Just by the outline, I can tell that his little guy wasn’t little.

I propped myself with my elbows as I spread my legs, for him to see the wet spot that is stained in my underwear. He grunted at the sight, while I chuckle, “you like what you see?” I faux-innocently asked as I trailed my hand from my neck, making my head fall back, down to the valley of my chest, onto the waistband of my underwear.

“Fuck…” Changbin cursed, admiring the sight in front of him. He didn’t realize how lucky he was to see me in a state like this, not many have the privilege, especially not with men I met in a short amount of time.

I tugged my panties, took it off and exposed a part that he was dying to see, which caused him to gulp. He sighed with a smile, “god damn, (y/n),“ he shook his head in disbelie, “I’ve always thought you were gorgeous, but now I’m convinced you’re a goddess“

I giggle at his words, “and you, sir, are a demon disguised as a greek god” I teased back, tracing my two fingers around my lips, I noticed that he still was in his underwea. He still waited for my permission. How adorable.

”You can take off your underwear, Binnie” I didn’t even mean to give him the nickname, but I was too excited to even think straight. I looked at him, and saw him reveal his friend, and I gasped loudly, which made Changbin alert. “What? Whats wrong?”

”Nothing, its just,” I chuckle, “you have a nice dick.”

”Thank you,” He smirked as he sat down and looked at me, with full attention. I put my two fingers into my mouth, while maintaining eye contact. I then trailed my finger down to clit, which resulted in me letting out a blissful gasp. Meanwhile, Changbin was repositioning to a comfortable position as he began to touch himself, which caused him to let out a choked out groan.

”Binnie, as you touching yourself?” I half-whispered, but it was still loud enough for him hear along with my fingers movements that moved from my clit onto my slit, which made me moan.

”Ah-y-yes” Changbin groaned and nodded, as he was stroking his dick following the pace that I was going at.

After hearing Changbin’s groans, I began inserting my fingers at my slit, making me whimper in the process, “oh, fuck” I cursed, as I started to thrust my fingers in and out, noises coming out of my mouth along with the wetness of my pussy were getting louder, which excited Changbin, as his stroking was audible through the phone along with his beautiful groans.

“god, (y/n), if only I could touch you,” Changbin spoke through groans when he saw me fondling my breast and going faster. I was getting louder with my noises, in contrast of Changbin’s quite yet beautiful and audible noises. So much so, it sounds like Changbin was watching porn, rather than getting fucked at a distance.

“Ah-are-fuck-are you close?” Changbin asked through whines, his speech was getting difficult as he was getting closer to climax with his strokes going as fast as I was.

I nodded, out of struggle of speech, whining out, “Ah! Binnie!”

“Fuck, (y/n), I’m—“ Changbin grunted, as his strokes was started to get sloppy, he began to thrust onto his hands. I began to feel like something burning up in my stomach, moaning at the sensation, “Chang—I’m cummin— I’m cumming”

“Me too…” He choked on his words, as his groans and moans were also getting louder. Our phone voices combined was dirty but erotic, topped with the scene of two people masturbating to each other, now thats even a hotter view.

“Binnie!”

“Go ahead, baby... cum”

And just like that, I let out a squeal as I reached my peak, still playing with myself until I sensed an overstimulation. Not too long after, I was hearing a lot of grunt from the call and then I looked at Changbin, who ended up cumming onto his stomach, his chest raising up and down, letting himself catch his breath. Still out of breath, we both looked at each other, we both laughed at our fucked out state.

“Holy fuck, was that hot?” Changbin commented, taking the phone, putting it out of his speaker and back to his ear. I laughed at his sudden remark, nodding, “oh yeah, can’t wait to feel what you feel like,” I bit my lip.

”At least buy me dinner first,” He teased, referring to the remark I had at the time, which made me roll my eyes and him to chuckle. “You’re a dick,” I said.

”A big one, and a pretty one according to you,” He teased again. I started to jokingly groan at his words, causing him to laugh, “alright, alright, I’ll stop.”

I got up and picked the phone, looking at him, “I had fun, we should do this again,” him and I started exchanging a smile, this time it was more pure than the smiles we had earlier. He nodded, “for sure, but the next time is going to be in one of our beds, I really need to touch you.”

”The feeling is mutual.”

We began to talk a little more, until we both have felt that slumber was starting to sneak up onto our eyes. We both ultimately had to hang up, since we don’t want to raise our phone bills with our already long call. While facing away from the window, I couldn’t help but started admire Changbin in my head.

I typically hate men, but Changbin wasn’t just like any man.

He was Changbin, and I highly doubt that you’ll ever find a man like him.

[unwrittenlibrary]

teary eyed and beautiful

18+!! minors do not interact with this fic. if you do, you will be blocked.

summary -> steve feels awful about it, he does, but it’s something he just can’t help. 

words -> 2.0k

warnings -> dacryphilia (being turned on by someone’s crying/tears), sub!steve, use of nicknames (honey, stevie baby/baby) handjob, unprotected penetrative sex, graphic wording (c*ck, c*nt, p*ssy, etc.)

notes -> i’m still new to nsfw, i’m exploring what i can write pls be gentle in your judgement of those scenes! also i am a sucker for sub!steve just something about that six foot man begging for you makes me 🥵

»»————-　☾　————-««

It makes him feel guilty. 

The way your eyes turn glassy and the whites of them grow a little red. Your makeup running down your cheeks and the heat he feels on your them when his hand comes up to wipe stray tears away. 

So incredibly guilty for the rush of butterflies that flies through him and the want he feels for you when you look like this. 

“What a joke.” You cry out as the screen fades to black. “Why are you making me watch this show still?” 

The answer to that makes Steve feel worse. You’re pretty when you cry. “It was the first show I watched out of the ice, I thought you would like it.” It wasn’t a lie. That was why he had originally put the first episode of Game of Thrones on a couple weeks ago. 

Then when he had first turned to see your reaction to one particularly emotional episode, he had decided he just had to watch the entire series with you.

Steve had initially been shocked and ashamed by the effect your teary eyes had on his body. Now while he still felt incredibly guilty, he let himself enjoy the reaction in realization it was the only way he would get it. He would never intentionally make you cry with harsh words or anything mean, but television shows and movies allowed him to relish this feeling. 

“Well I can’t do this anymore!” You sniffle again. You rub harshly at your eyes as the credits play on the screen. “Steve, so many people die!” You look over at him with pretty, glassy eyes and Steve almost moans. 

He had tried. He swears to whatever God was out there that he had tried to get over this weird affinity he had for your tears. “Well you have to see how it ends.” Steve smiles kindly at you and his hand comes up to rest on your cheek. “I promise, it gets better.” 

You scoff, but lean into his palm. “I find that hard to believe.” Then you let out a resigned sigh. “But I can’t just not finish this show. You’re lucky I love you, Steve Rogers, or else I would call it quits on this binge watch.” 

The opening credits begin to play, the strong instrumental blasting through the television speakers and you curl into Steve’s side again. His arm wraps around your shoulders as the scene begins to play, but his eyes find their way to you every few minutes and he relishes in the remnants of your tears. 

So focused on your eyes, he doesn’t see your smirk. 

☾

“One more episode! Then we can go to bed!” You plead with Steve. He shakes his head and tries his best to hide how painstakingly hard he is. “Come on, old man,” you shove gently at his shoulder, “it’s not even past your bedtime.” 

The last episode had left you with choked breaths and tears quickly streaming down your cheeks and dripping onto your collarbones. Steve could barely look at you without thinking of how badly he wanted to be inside of you.

“I’m tired, honey. I want to shower before bed.” He groans before placing a kiss on the top of your head. He hates to do it, but he wants so desperately to get you into bed so he can take a shower and finally relieve himself. “And I know that episode was rough on you.” 

You turn to face Steve on the couch, bringing your knees up under you. “Why not, Stevie baby?” You grin at Steve and if he wasn’t already achingly hard those words would have sent blood straight to his dick.

“Honey, I’ve got to-”

“Is it because you’re hard?” You hand comes to rest on his thigh. Steve had taken to wearing loose sweatpants and covering himself with blankets as you two watched the show in an attempt to hide his hard-on.

He had assumed, or hoped, that it had worked and you never noticed. “W-what are you talking about?” He stutters out as your hand moves further and further up his leg. 

“I’m talking about hard you get when we watch the show, baby.” You explain, slipping your hand into his pants. Steve lets out a moan as your hand wraps around his cock. “At first I thought it was because of the sex scenes, then I realized it really only happened during the gory ones.” 

You smirk. “I was a little worried, baby, I’m not gonna lie.” You’re moving at an agonizingly slow pace as you speak. Steve’s hips buck up involuntarily as you pull your hand away. “Then I caught you staring. I realized it was me. What does it for you? The tears?” 

“Honey, please.” Steve’s head falls back against the couch cushion. “Please. Please.” He’s learned he’s not above begging, not when it comes to you. He’s so far past being guilty for what your tears do to him and all he wants is you. 

You smile cockily down at him before spitting into the palm of your hand. “I know.” When your hand wraps around him again, Steve lets out a relieved moan. “What is it? Want you to tell me.” 

You move slowly again. Steve looks at you pleadingly, but you still hold the same cocky smile. “Tell me, baby. I promise I’ll go faster. Get you closer.” 

“It’s all of it.” Steve admits. Your hand moves just a little faster and the words come tumbling out of his mouth. “The way your eyes look, all glassy and wet. Fuck-” he inhales sharply, “-how hot your cheeks get, I love how they feel against my fingers. Please, honey.” He reaches his hand out towards you, wanting to feel you. 

You let out a soft moan. “That’s... fuck.” You crawl towards him, your hand still pumping him, and his own hands land on your hips. “You like it when I cry? You think I look pretty, Steve?” You bring your non-dominant hand up to lift his chin so he’s looking at your face.

There are still signs of tears there. Dried tears and eyes still a little glassy. It almost sends Steve into orbit, you kneeling over him, tear stained cheeks and commanding tone of voice. “So pretty.” He whispers as his eyes trail over your face. 

You move quickly, your hands moving to pull his sweatpants off. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You lean back to pull off your own shirt, leaving you in nothing but a bra and underwear. 

Steve’s fingers trail up your stomach towards your breasts and leave goosebumps in their wake. “Didn’t want you to think I was weird.” He admits quietly as one finger trails over the curve of your breast. 

Your mouth opens in a soft breath as Steve leans towards you. His mouth follows the same path his fingers did and your hand tangles in his hair. 

It’s grown out since his retirement, long enough for you to yank on and pull him back to look up at you. “You could’ve told me.” You smile down at him sweetly. “You should’ve. I hate when you keep things from me.”  

“I’m sorry.” Steve says immediately. You giggle at him and he feels his cheeks turn red in embarrassment. “Won’t happen again, baby.” 

“Good.” You move to straddle his hips. Both of you moan at the newfound friction you can feel as you covered pussy rubs against his cock. “Keep being good for me and I might let you cum inside me, baby.” 

Steve’s head falls so his forehead rests against your shoulder as a groan escapes him. “Please. Oh my god, please.” He pleads into your skin. You move to pull his boxers down until his dick is on display for you. 

“You want me to ride you, honey?” You ask softly as you continue to rub over his hard length. Steve’s hips buck up in desperation as you grind against him. 

“Yes.” He moans loudly as you press your hips down against him harder. “Want to feel you. Want to be inside you, please baby.” He bucks his hips up again. 

You smirk down at him. “Since you asked so nicely. Need your help though.” Steve watches as you push your panties aside and his hand wraps around the base of his cock. 

He watches in awe as you push yourself down on his cock. The both of you moan out in relief as Steve pushes his hips up until he’s all the way inside of you. “You feel so good inside me, honey.” Your hands land on his shoulders and you use them as stability to push yourself up and down on him. 

“Fuck.” Steve can barely contain himself as his arms wrap around your waist. Your wet heat wraps around him so perfectly that it’s hard for him to hold himself back, especially after being so hard for hours. “You feel so good, fuck. Please.” He begs. 

Steve doesn’t know where to focus as you ride him. His eyes move over your face twisted up in pleasure as you moan, your breasts moving as your body does and where your cunt meets his pelvis bone every time you slide down. It’s all too much and you seem to know it as you pull his hair so he’s looking into your eyes. 

“You can’t cum. Not yet, honey.” Steve whimpers as you finish your sentence. You smile at him. “I know, I’ve got to cum first though. You want me to feel good too, don’t you?” 

Steve nods quickly before moving his hand so it’s between your bodies. “Want to make you cum.” His body meets yours in messy thrusts as he focuses on rubbing your clit. 

“So good for me.” You murmur breathily as you slow your own movements, letting Steve do more of the work. “You always make me feel so good.” You moan again. 

Steve can feel you tighten around him and lets his head fall back against the couch as he moans loudly, “oh, fuck. Fuck. Please I’m-″ His hand falls away from your clit and moves to grip your hip as he bucks up harder. 

“-I know.” You cut him off with a moan. “I can you feel you.” He can’t see you, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure, but he knows there’s a smirk on your face from the cocky tone of voice. 

It turns him on even more, how well you know each other’s bodies. “You can come, Stevie baby. I want you to, please.” You lean towards him in a whisper. “Want you to look at me though.” Steve’s eyes open slowly as you grind down against him. “Come for me.” You order gently. 

You kiss him, your lips pressing against his harshly as Steve’s hips stutter into his orgasm. He moans into your mouth when he feels you orgasm around him, your own hips faltering. 

The two of you stay connected as you both heave out heavy breaths. “You really don’t think it’s weird?” Steve asks after a moment of silence. 

You lean back to look at him with a reassuring smile. “Not at all. I just wish you had told me instead of making me watch this godforsaken show.” You tease before moving to lift yourself off of him. 

Steve lets out an embarrassed laugh and his cheeks turn a light shade of red as he pulls his underwear back up. “We don’t have to watch it anymore if you don’t want to.” He says quietly. 

“I want to.” You press a kiss to his shoulder.  “I’ve got to finish it now. You’re with me for at least five more seasons, baby.” 

Steve presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I guess you’re lucky I love you then.” He murmurs as you move around to press play on the television again. The instrumental blares through the television speakers again as you curl into Steve’s side and his arm wraps around you.

It’s like there’s a weight lifted from his shoulders as the episode begins to play. He knows this one, it’s a bad one and you’ll definitely get upset again, but now he knows his reaction isn’t something to be ashamed of. 

Not with you. 

»»————-　☾　————-««

notes -> hey! i know it’s taking a little longer to get pieces out, august is pretty busy with me doing most of my pre-school errands and appointments before classes start again at the end of the month. 

i hope you enjoyed this pieced though! definitely something new for me, but i’m pretty proud of it?? as far as how my nsfw writing is coming along

if you did enjoy, reblogs/replies are so greatly appreciated. 

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Three

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Cursing; a little angst; mostly fluff tho Summary: When Marcus had first come to your lecture to ask for your help, he had been hesitant. 

Over the course of the following week, you spent more time with Marcus - both on the phone and in person - for the sake of getting a little more comfortable with one another. But to your surprise, there really wasn’t much that needed to be eased into. You went over to his place a couple more times, and he surprised you by showing up at your office once. He even plopped himself down on your crummy little office couch with a stack of quizzes and an answer key while the two of you chatted.

You’d been stunned to find how easily conversation flowed between the two of you, beyond his work at the Bureau. Sure, the two of you talked about his work, but he liked to hear about yours, too - about the student that had come to you for help with her thesis on Han Van Meegeren; about the freshman in your Art History 101 class that had turned up reeking of weed and raised their hand to clarify that you were discussing Michelangelo the painter, not the Ninja Turtle. Now and again, though, as things quieted between the two of you, Marcus would remind you how grateful that he was that you were doing this - that you didn’t have to, that he owed you one. You’d always lightly wave him off, tell him you’d never been to Austin and were getting free cake out of it. Marcus told you about growing up in Austin, living there; the band he’d been in in college, playing bass and singing; he told you about his ex-wife and ex-fiancé, and that he hadn’t given up on love yet. You told him about the endless days that you had spent at museums and galleries as a child, taking tours and falling in love with art and history. He never pressed you for details about your grandmother, about how you were moved from place to place, about when and how you began to fence her work for her. With Marcus, those things really didn’t seem to matter. But you felt so safe with Marcus, so comfortable that, well— You would’ve told him, if he asked. -- When Marcus had first come to your lecture to ask for your help, he had been hesitant. When the two of you got off of the plane in Austin, he was downright nervous.

The two of you used the flight going over your story again, running through some of the particulars of the week’s schedule that you hadn’t gotten to go over the week before. You also began to ease into that casual PDA that you knew his family would expect from the two of you - holding hands intermittently, touching the other on the knee to draw the other’s attention: twice, he’d leaned over and murmured in your ear to comment on the show that the person sitting in front of you was watching; once, you’d reached out and brushed back a stray strand of hair that had come loose from his otherwise controlled coif. 

He’d been a little uneasy as you’d gotten on the plane, and slightly jittery during the trip. It wasn’t a lengthy flight, so it didn’t take terribly long for his nerves to intensify. His leg had started bouncing somewhere over Atlanta. It hadn’t gotten any better as the plane had started to descend. What discomfort had triggered in Marcus was a hometown fact info-dump that you could never have seen coming. And god, it was some of the nerdiest shit that you’d ever heard. “You know this airport has one of the country’s longest commercial runways?” He told you as he hauled your suitcase off of the baggage carousel. “Really?” You asked teasingly. Marcus nodded, seeming to miss your tone as he lifted his own off of the carousel and set it down. “It used to be an old Air Force base, back in the— the 40′s? It actually opened to the public in, uh—1999 and—” “Hey,” You reached out, cupping his face to focus him. He went quiet, lips parted in surprise. You offered him a gentle smile. “It’s going to be fine,” You insisted. Marcus’ shoulders relaxed a little, and he turned his head, pressing a kiss to one of your palms. The feeling sent a wave of warmth through you, and you smiled, sweeping a thumb along his cheekbone before you let your hands fall away. You had to remind yourself that those little touches would be commonplace throughout the week.

“Before we get out there,” He said quietly. “Mm?” “I know I’ve said this before, but I really, really appreciate you doing this. I mean you didn’t have to, and… I wanna thank you for being here with me.” You felt your stomach flutter at his thanks, and you nodded. “Thank you for trusting me to be,” You returned. Marcus’ eyes searched your face for a moment, warm and kind, and the urge to hide bubbled up in your chest. You didn’t know what he was looking for, and you didn’t know if he would find it. “C’mon. We don’t wanna keep your mom waiting,” You added, taking hold of the handle of your suitcase. Marcus nodded, shifting his bag onto his arm and taking hold of your free hand. You intertwined your fingers, glancing up at him to make sure it was alright. He smiled, giving your hand a squeeze in turn. “How do you know so much about the airport, anyway?” You asked curiously. “Oh-- I’ve got a cousin that works here.” “You’ve got all the inside dirt, huh? I see how it is.” “Marky!” You heard crowed from a little ways away. “Marky?” You repeated quietly, glancing up at him, and grinning when you saw an embarrassed flush tipping his ears. “Do not start using that--” “Oh I’m so using it,” You laughed as the two of you approached the woman that had called out to him, “Gimme your bag,” You urged, gently untangling your hand from Marcus’ to take hold of his duffel so that he could hug his mother unencumbered. “Thanks-- Hey, mom,” Marcus grinned, embracing his mom. You grinned, watching the two of them, listening as the two chattered a little as they held to one another. He was nearly a head and a half taller than she was. “Is there someone you’d like to introduce me to?” She asked, peering at you around his arm. Marcus smiled, leaning away from her. “Yeah, there is. C’mere, sweetheart,” He murmured, holding a hand out to you. You felt yourself thrill a little, bashful as you ducked your head a bit. The two of you hadn’t discussed pet names, but ‘sweetheart’ sounded...so terribly dear coming out of that man’s mouth. You stepped closer to Marcus as he introduced you, passing his bag back when he gestured for it. “This is my mother, Jill Pike.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Pike,” You said lightly, holding your hand out to shake hers. “Call me Jill-- Oh, come here,” Jill laughed, tugging you in for a hug without a moment’s hesitation. Your brows rose at the tug, but you took the hug that was offered, smiling and laughing a little bit. “Jill-- it’s a pleasure to meet you. Marcus talks about you all the time.” “Oh,” Jill leaned away, holding you at arm’s length, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too! I’ll admit Marky has been light on the details,” She shot Marcus a look, as he made careful study of his shoes. “Oh, ma’am, I’m afraid that’s my fault,” You cut in quickly, “I’ve been told I’m a little hard to pin down.” Jill’s brows rose. “Mark, this one is a firecracker! Where’d you two meet?” She asked, hooking her arm through yours and steering you toward the exit. “Work. She’s been kind enough to assist us on several cases. We’d be lost without her.” You shot Marcus a thankful smile over the top of Jill’s head as the two of you walked through the parking lot. “He’s being too sweet-- You guys’d be fine.” “No, not true,” Marcus volleyed back, “That break in the Rosepoint case? It would’ve taken us months to find that dealer-- and the forger.” “Weeks at best.” “You cut the time down, sweetheart, just-- Take the compliment,” Marcus pouted a little, and you rolled your eyes, smiling. “Well, I’m glad I could help.” 

“You wanna sit up front?” Marcus offered, taking hold of your suitcase and lifting it into the trunk of his mom’s car. 

“Why don’t you? Give you and your mom some extra face time before the week gets busy,” You said. 

Jill smiled, giving your arm a light squeeze before letting go. Marcus rounded the car, opening the back door for you and pecking your cheek before you got in. 

--

You’d been a little apprehensive when Marcus had told you that you’d be staying with his family for the duration of the visit. But apparently Marcus always stayed with his family when he went home now, and you didn’t want to further mess with the family dynamic. He’d reassured you that the house had room enough for you all to be comfortably situated. “My parents can be a little old-fashioned,” He’d warned, “You know-- unmarried couples can’t sleep together, that kinda thing, but the house has three bedrooms. I’ll be in my old room, and you’ll be bunking in Marnie’s with her massive canopy bed-- and her Air Supply poster.” You’d appreciated his reassurances. The two of you had certainly gotten more relaxed around one another in his apartment and your office, but it was one thing to be nearby one another. It was another entirely to share a bed. You felt your nerves roil up in you as Marcus and Jill chatted in the front seat. You contributed to the conversation a little, answered questions when they were asked of you, but said little else. You were careful not to use your phone for the duration of the car ride, not wanting to seem rude, or like you weren’t paying attention. As Jill pulled the car into the driveway of the house on the wooded hillside, you found yourself perking up a bit more, despite your trepidation. You noted Marcus glancing back to look at you, but couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eye as you tried to take in each new little detail. He and Jill were still chattering as the three of you got out of the car, but you bring yourself to contribute. You just couldn’t help stop yourself from looking around. You looked over the two-story home with exposed brick exterior and dark wooden door. You spotted someone peering out at you through the front window before hurrying away when you met their eyes. Marcus’ hand rested on your lower back as he murmured, “Are you alright?” In your ear. “You grew up here?” You asked, a little dazed. Moving around as much as you had, the places you’d stayed had never been any bigger than a two-bedroom apartment. You couldn’t imagine spending your whole childhood in a house— especially one as beautiful as this. “Yeah,” Marcus chuckled softly as he steered you up in the front walkway, “If you think this is nice, wait until you see the back porch.” “You have a porch?” “Oh, honey,” Jill laughed as she opened the front door, “We’ll have to get you down here more often.” 

--

Marnie was a streak of dark hair and lanky limbs that launched herself at her brother with a squeal of excitement the second Marcus crossed the threshold. He dropped his hand from your back just in time to catch hold of her, clearly anticipating the charge. You smiled, taking a step to the side to give them adequate room as Marcus lightly rocked them side to side. “Do you have any siblings?” Jill asked softly as the two of you watched the reunion, the two chattering between one another. You shook your head a little bit, glancing over at Jill and smiling. “Do you?” “Five sisters. Imagine that bathroom when we were all late for school,” Jill laughed. You turned back as you heard Marcus say your name. “Oh, I know who she is,” Marnie waved Marcus off as she broke away from her brother, “Honestly, no name has puzzled me more since you told me that you were talking Shlomo Ziegler to prom.” “Was...Shlomo going with someone else?” You frowned. “There was no Shlomo Ziegler. He heard the name on an episode of the Golden Girls,” Jill explained. “Oh, honey,” You turned a sympathetic smile up at Marcus before taking a step closer to Marnie. Marnie had the same kind eyes that her brother did. Their noses were the same, too, but her cheekbones and lips were like her mother’s. She pulled you in the same way that Jill did, giving you a light squeeze before leaning back to get a better look. “It’s nice to meet you,” You smiled, “I’ve heard a lot about you-- About all of you.” And that was technically true. “I’ll grab your bag and run it up to Marnie’s old room,” Marcus reassured, resting his hand on your lower back. “Oooh,” Marnie cringed, glancing between the two of you, “I meant to mention, um-- I’m staying here this week.” Marcus froze, glancing between you and Marnie. “W-Why?” “Well, Hazel and I thought it would be kinda cute, you know, spending the week apart. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and stuff.” “So I’ll...Sleep... On the couch?” Marcus frowned. Jill waved him off. “Oh, you and your sweetheart can sleep in the same room. You’re all adults now, christssake,” She laughed, reaching up and pinching his cheek. You glanced back at him, raising a brow at his stunned expression. This was going to be an adjustment, but part of the reason you were down there with Marcus was to help him roll with the punches. He could only do that if you did.  “Yeah, Marky,” You smiled, reassuring, “We’re all adults.” Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​​​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​​ ; @elen-aranel​​​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​​​ ; @artsymaddie​​​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​​​ ; @lunaserenade​​​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​​​ ; @randomness501​​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​ ; @heatherbel​ ; @marydjarin​ ; @annathewitch​ ; @absurdthirst​

[muichiroslover]

Disclaimer!!

This fic includes a Manga spoiler

From the manga “Tokyo Revengers” if

You aren’t that caught up and don’t

know the events then you’ve been warned!!!

Also this fic doesn’t follow the exact

timeline of Tokyo revengers!

Without further ado then

[spoilers from the Valhalla arc]

G/n= gang name

(Also yes i lazily borrowed characters from Genshin💀) + trust me to the end guys😭

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

The wind blew and your hands shook as you looked down at your boyfriends cold turning body, it felt like the world around you was spinning, your ears were ringing and your hands stained in the god awful red color of blood

“Kei, Kei please- please you-you have to get up, come on come on baby” you said in a shaky tone as your boyfriends head laid in your lap, his eyes barely lidded open, it was a cold day

He reached his hand up to you, it landed on your cheek as you put your hand over it in a desperate try to keep him here with you

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as your mouth clenched in anger sadness and grief

“I’m sorry...I thought I could do it..” he said hoarsely and you shush him telling him to save his energy until the ambulance could make it

He laughed, his laughter turning into a fit of coughs as blood shot out his mouth

“I’m not making it out babe..” he says and you shake your head “shut up Keisuke you always say the worse things at the wrong time” you cry as you hold onto the cold hand on your cheek

He smiled up at you, fangs showing and all as his eyes began to go dull

“I love you” he says and your eyes widen noticing how his hold on you started getting limp

“Kei! Kei I love you so much! I love you too so-so please d-dont do this” you pleaded and he slowly closed his eyes as he muttered one last thing to you

Your eyes widen as his hand goes limp on your cheek and his eyes fully close, he laid peacefully on your lap as the world fell silent

You didn’t get to grieve long as your vice captain ran up to you, pulling you

“Come on y/n! The cops are coming quickly we have to go!” He shouted, you seemed lost as he dragged you away from your beloved, Kazutora taking your place as he looked at you apologetically

“Come on boss!” Kazuha groaned as you weren’t exactly cooperating, tears streamed down your face as you turned around as you and Kazuha bolted to your motorcycles

You got on quickly as you started your engine, your team following quickly, you took once last glance at Baji and Kazutora as you gritted your teeth and drove off as the sounds of sirens approached

As you drove your head felt as if it was spinning and as if the sky itself was about to collapse on top of you, and you couldn’t stop it

Your mind just kept thinking of him

Baji Keisuke

Your beloved since childhood, no matter how much it hurts he’s gone now, he won’t ever sneak through your window at 3am to sleep

He won’t ever come over when his moms not home so you can cook for him

He won’t ever come over again to tell you about another stray cat he saved

It will never happen again

And that’s painful

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

It had been about 6 days since the bloody Halloween incident, your members could see the way you would seem lost or empty during meetings

The way your eyes would loose focus then tune back in at the last minute

They felt helpless as their leader seemed to fall apart in front of them

You sighed as a knock came at your door, you got up from the couch of your house and opened the door to see your first division captain

“Xiao, whats the problem?” You ask as you invite him in

“Someone wants to meet with us, he originally got thrown out of Toman and is asking to join up with us” he says as he stands in front of your body that had just sat back down

“Alright, who is this person?” You ask

“Kisaki Tetta I believe was his name, he was accompanied by a man named Hanma as well, he was at the bloody Halloween incident as Valhalla” he explains, you stare at him

“Okay, where did he wish to meet?” You ask and he hands you a paper that had an address on it

You stare at it blankly then look up

“Who’s free?”

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

You rode your motorcycle with a blank expression as Xiao, Kazuha, Chongyung, and Beidou rode behind you

“Y/n are you sure this is a good idea? Mikey must’ve kicked him out for a reason, shouldn’t we at least check with-“ Kazuha began as he aligned his motorcycle with yours

“Kazuha, eyes on the road” was all you said as you sped up, he sighed as he followed you without any other comments

You guys stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse as you hopped off your bike

“This isn’t sketchy at all..” Chongyung says and you sigh as you step into the warehouse, your members following close behind

As you stepped in you saw two boys standing in the center, one with glasses and one unbelievably tall with tattoos on his hands

You walked in until you stopped in front of the two boys

It stayed silent until you sighed putting your hands in your pocket

“So, you say you want to join g/n?” You ask bluntly and the tall guy laughs throwing his head back

“Straight to the point, I like her!” He says and your eyes don’t leave Kisaki’s

“Yes, I wish to make g/n stronger, with my help and the extra members I believe we can make g/n the strongest gang in Japan” he says and your dead eyes stare blankly at him before you smile

“Alright, welcome to the gang” you say

“Huh?! Y/n?!” Kazuha says grabbing your shoulder, your head falls back as you two make eye contact, the silence deadly

He lets you go as you turn your attention back to Kisaki and Hanma, both of them smiling or more like smirking

“I’m Hanma, this is Kisaki, glad to be here boss!~” Hanma says extending his hand to you, you look at his hand that had the word “Sin” on it

“Glad to have you” you say as you shake his hand

And with that the mini meeting ended and you began to head home, you parked your bike on the side of the house and opened your door, you closed it and as soon as you did someone pinned you

Your eyes met with red ones

“Kazuha” you spoke and he backed off

“Let’s have a chat” you say

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

You stood in front of the entirety of your gang on the stage of your little meet up area, Kazuha sat on a crate one step below you and Kisaki and Hanma stood on the slowest part of the stage

Your members talked in whispered voices as they talked about the two boys

“Alright alright quiet down” you said after finishing a conversation with Kazuha, crossing your arms you began

“These two boys, Kisaki and Hanma are now proudly apart of g/n” you say loud and clear with no expression to your face

“What??!”

“Weren’t they there during that day??”

“Why would they join?”

“Quiet” you say and in an instant the whispers stop

“I hope you treat them with respect and how you would treat any other member, they will help g/n grow and become stronger” you say and nobody says anything

“With that, I end this meeting, thank you all” you finish as everyone begins to disband, you watch as your second division captain, Beidou signals you over

You nod at Kisaki and Hanma as you step down and jump off the stage, you follow her to a closed off area and with a second glance she looks at you like your crazy

“Y/n?? What’s all of this? We can’t trust those two, I don’t know why but I get a bad feeling please reconsider this..” she says to you and you stare at her blankly as your ears perk

You sighed

“Beidou, this was my decision alone, I didn’t get manipulated and I’m not tricking anyone, I genuinely don’t even know what to do with g/n anymore so I accepted Kisaki and his group to larger our numbers for now, please trust me and trust Kisaki”’ you say and her eyes widen as her mouth falls open

“Wha-“

“Alright I’m tired Beidou, please get home safe” you say and with that you left a bewildered Beidou alone at the wall as she watched your leaving figure

The weeks had continued as normal, you and Kisaki getting close enough to the point that you would invite him over your house

Your members had noticed your sudden closure with Kisaki and were worried that you were looking for someone to comfort yourself over a certain persons death and found the worse possible candidate to rebound to

So imagine there surprised when you announced you and Kisaki had gotten together, everyone tried to talk you out of it, everyone

“Y/n please, I know your grieving but Kisaki??” Xiao says and you sigh as you run a hand through your hair, tears brimmed your eyes

“Xiao please, for the first time since Baji’s death I feel comforted, safe, loved, please can you guys see from my point of view for one second” you say looking up at him as a tear rolled down your cheek

Xiao opened his mouth then closed it, he repeated this action once or twice before signing, with his eyebrows furrowed he looked at you

“Alright Y/n...just please don’t do anything stupid” he says and you smile at him

“Of course not Xiao, I’m not stupid” you say and he hesitatingly nods as he takes his leave from your house, you listen as the door closes and you sigh as you wipe your eye and grab your cup of coffee sipping it

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

“It’s been quiet still, no gangs are trying to brawl or anything” Chongyung reports to you and you nod

“Good, then I suppose we can take a break, I heard a festival was around the corner” you say to him and he nods

“Yeah there is, are you going with Kisaki?” He asks leaning back on the chair in your house, you put your foot on the bottom of the chair as you slam it to the ground, you stare at Chongyung before smiling

“Yes I should ask him if he would like to go” you say and he looks at you before nodding agreeing with you

Chongyung was one of the few who didn’t question your relationship with Kisaki, not because he wasn’t worried but because he trusts you with every fiber of his being, you don’t do things for no reason

If this was what you wanted who was he to say otherwise?

“Then I’m gonna leave now, tell me how your date goes with Kisaki” he says as he gets up from the chair, you nod as you get up and walk him out

“Bye then” you say and he waved as he leaves, you go back in and sit down as you pick up your phone and dial a number

“Kisaki hey, can you come over?” You speak into the phone cheerfully as the boy on the other side of the phone hums and hangs up

You put the phone down as your blank stare shifts to your room, getting up you open your bedroom door, you look at the photos of you and Baji that were still hung up and the pictures of you Mikey, Baji ,Draken, Kazutora, Mitsuya and Pah chin as kids, life was so easy back then

You grab one photo of Baji smiling and smile at it, you kiss it once and then begin taking off all the pictures from your bulletin board

You open a draw and throw the pictures in and close it, you grab one picture, it’s of You Kisaki and Hanma and hang it up

You stare at it before there’s a knock on your door, without a second glance to the bulletin board you leave the room and head towards the door

You opened it and smiled at Kisaki, he looked at you as you stepped to the side to let him in, he walked in and sat down on the couch as you followed and sat next to him

“So what’s up?” He asks boredly and you beam at him

“Let’s go to the festival together” you say and he looks at you with a slight raised eyebrow

“Pleasee, it’ll be fun I promise” you say with a kind smile and tilt of your head, he sweat drops as he looks away

‘I guess I have to put up the act..’ he thinks as he looks at your gleaming eyes, awaiting his answer

He sighs

“Alright we can go..” he says and you grin at him as you grab both his hands in yours

“Thank you love! I’m so happy right now.” You say, your smile never faltering, eyes closed, grip tight around his hands

“Yeah..” he says and you let go as you turn around your smiling falling

“Oh!” You say as he turns around staring at your soft smile “what’s your favorite food? Ill make it for you” you say and he makes a face, like disgust

“Uhm, Anything is fine” he says and you nod

“The festival starts at 6 tomorrow, don’t be late! I’m serious Kisaki!!” You reprimand as you push him out your door as he groans

“Yeah yeah, 6pm got it..” he says and you smile at him as you hug him and let go before he turns and leaves and you close the door

The house falls silent as you stare blankly at the door, you turn around as you head to your room

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter four // three days on drunken sin

summary: bucky decides to rifle through those boxes and finds the will to make the first move.

warnings: food/eating, nothing too bad this time!

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: how are we feeling about this week’s episode?? we’re getting closer to the start of tfatws with this chapter!! hope i don’t break your heart too much with the boxes :)

[ read on ao3 | series masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

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The boxes taunted him for three days.

Three stacks of two boxes each cluttered his entranceway, each with that familiar scrawl of Steve’s God-awful handwriting.

‘BUCKY’

All caps, in black Sharpie, underlined three times just for good measure. Steve was always good at getting his message across.

He didn’t want to know what was in them, he told himself. But Steve was gone, and this was all he had left. These, that stupid notebook he still hadn’t found the will to write in, and the shield that was kicking around Sam’s apartment somewhere.

He wanted to toss them in his building’s dumpster, to push these aside like he did with everything else in his life. Out of sight, out of mind. That week, he didn’t tell his therapist about the boxes, or Sam’s unexpected visit, or his neighbor that he was now avoiding like the plague. Thankfully, she chalked his silence up to Steve and tried to fill in the conversational lulls with suggestions of amends and lists and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

Like always, sleep never came.

He knew the single night in his bed was a fluke, but he kept trying at least. He’d untuck his flat sheet from under hit mattress, fluff his pillow, and tuck himself in. Within five minutes, he was back on the hardwood floor of his living room, the lamplights illuminating his window and casting a perfect shadow on those stupid boxes. Finally, on the third night, he huffed a sigh and sat up, his arm whirring at the sudden movement. He wasn’t accomplishing anything letting them sit and gather dust.

Bucky reached under the cushions of his couch, fishing for the knife he had stashed away and got to work slicing through the clear packing tape securing each one.

The first five boxes were files. Mission reports, everything Steve could get his hands on about The Winter Soldier. The translations were rough, the descriptions weren’t as vivid as he remembered them now, and it wasn’t even close to everything. Why Steve kept them when Bucky was working to erase every trace of this from the universe, he would never understand. Steve was sentimental, even with the bad stuff. Bucky glanced over the files scattered across his entranceway, which maybe amounted to a year of his missions. If Zemo had looked in some suburb in upstate New York, he would have found everything he needed.

The dumpster behind his building was starting to feel more and more enticing.

The last box felt different. Significantly lighter and smaller, the items rolling and clanking as he dragged it towards him. He braced himself for more files, more reminders of what he had done as though they didn’t exist in his mind every second of the day.

The first thing he recognized was his mother’s handwriting. ‘Recipes’, scrawled so perfectly on a yellowing label.

The tin box was tinted with age, dented after so many years. He laughed and could remember it tucked away on the top shelf of the cabinet by the fridge, just out of Rebecca’s reach, even when she’d stand on her tiptoes in search of it. His Ma rarely fished it out, other than to let his little sister read over the ingredients with sticky hands as she helped stir pots and peel potatoes. She had them memorized by the time she was a teenager, having transcribed her own mother’s recipes onto these little cards. He was sure Rebecca did, too.

Next was the worn fabric of his Ma’s favorite apron. Yellow embroidered flowers scattered the crimped edge, strings falling loose. He recognized some of the stains, from spaghetti night and cake batter that she let dry on the cloth for too long.

Finally, a worn silver chain was buried at the bottom of the box.

JAMES B BARNES 32557038 T42 A

Of course, Steve with all his connections and know-it-all attitude and ‘I can do this all day’ would find some way to find his dog tags, probably tucked away in some ancient Hydra file. His flesh fingers ran over the indentation of his name, pressed into metal like millions of other boys had, off to fight a war that had nothing to do with them. Everything to lose, nothing to gain.

When he was most alone, settled into muddy trenches with wet socks and a stiff military jacket, he would recite those numbers out into the night sky. He’d map constellations over his head, wondering if it would be his last night and all there would be left of him would be those stupid discs of metal clanking around his neck and the letter tucked away in his jacket breast pocket, addressed to his mother.

His mother was long gone, he knew that. But to a fully conscious James Buchanan Barnes – not the Winter Soldier - he had only seen her a few years ago when he shipped off.

After a moment, he pulled the chain of his dog tags over his head, settling them under his shirt. His ears rung with the sound of footsteps in the hallway. The sound of dragging feet and the jangle of your keychain signaled your return from class.

His family was gone, Steve included. The only people he has left are halfway across the world, or off on some death-defying mission wearing metal bird wings. Except you, who still leaves bags of cookies on his front door mat, despite the silent treatment from his end. His maybe too friendly neighbor who poured over lists of albums for him to find taped to his door in barely legible handwriting when you should have been studying.

His mother’s recipe box was calling his name.

-

The knock on your door startled you from your nap. Well, if you can call dozing off at your desk using a law book as a makeshift pillow a nap. You stalled in your desk chair, eyes bleary as you squinted at your front door, then at the top corner of your computer.

2:36 AM

You nuzzled back into your book, content to chalk it up to your sleep deprived brain making things up.

The second knock was much more insistent and was certainly coming from your door. You rushed out of your chair, sock-clad feet dragging the blanket draped across your shoulders as you shuffled over, the knocking never ceasing. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, peering out your peephole into the dark hallway.

Bucky, with slumped shoulders and a bowed head, trying with all of his might to make himself as small as possible still took up so much of the doorway with his broad shoulders.

You should be mad at him.

You should go to bed, ignore him like he’d been ignoring you for the past few weeks. Like you hadn’t shared late nights and he hadn’t sat in your kitchen, licking your spoons clean or tucked into your couch just to watch you study, a new record playing gently. Your forehead pressed to the door, vile building in your throat as seething words collected on your tongue.

“I know you’re there.” His voice was muffled through the wooden door, feeling so close but sounding so far away. “We should work on you dragging your feet, doll.”

If you had taken another peek, you would have seen him pressing his forehead to the other side.

“You ignored me, Bucky.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, even through the door. “Some family stuff came up. But it’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

It’s so stupid, letting yourself get so attached to the first guy to bat his eyelashes and read to you. It’s idiotic to want him to seep into your days and nights, to never leave like he had left you, after only knowing each other for a month.

It’s so foolish to open the door. But you do it anyways.

He swallows as he stands straight, and the widening of his eyes tells you that he wasn’t expecting you to give him a second chance.

“I, uh, here. Thought I’d finally return the favor.”” Bucky shoves forward a plate of cookies, misshapen and unevenly cooked. His eyes finally found yours. “My mom’s recipe.”

Family stuff, you remembered. The weight of the plate felt heavy in your hands, almost as heavy as his gaze on you as you lifted one of the lesser burnt cookies to your mouth and took a timid bite.

Bucky, you’ve come to learn, gives his love in silent acts of approval. He shines when you tell him his singing isn’t totally awful or that he makes a great sous chef, eyes crinkling when you approve of his music choice for the night or compliment the voices he picks when reading from his books. As he watched you, you felt that this cookie meant more to him then just flour and eggs.

He was reaching out, terrified of your rejection.

“You made these?”

“Alright, I’m not totally helpless.”

“They’re amazing, Bucky. Your mom should be proud.”

He returned your smile, knowing that she wouldn’t be. How could she, after all that his hands have done? Hands that should’ve been home, hoisting his sisters onto his shoulders. Hands that should have been helping set the table and at work so they had something to eat in the first place.

He looked so timid in your hallway, unsure of the next move. You rolled your eyes, moving to clear your doorway, despite his hesitation.

“Come on.” You spoke, like ushering in a stray cat with the promise of food and love.

He took the first step forward, shoulder to shoulder, head tilted down to catch your playful gaze with his serious one. Your mouth opened to make some sort of quip to ease the tension, but the words died in your throat as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a second.

His eyes closed as he drew in a single serene breath through his nose.

He was gone as quickly as he had come, moving further into your apartment and directly to your shelves of records, gloved fingers grazing over the sleeves in contemplation for his first choice of the night. As you finally collected yourself enough to close the door, you wondered how many people in the world had ever loved Bucky Barnes enough to give him a second chance.

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[stxrrywildflower]

echo

pairing - bau team x teen!reader

summary - you have to protect henry from an unsub

warnings - mentions of case, violence, injury

word count - ?

when you were sixteen, j.j. and will hired you to be nanny for henry due to their demanding jobs as an fbi profiler and police detective. obviously, you had agreed as you would need the money for college soon.

the two parents were incredibly welcoming, immediately treating you as one of their own. henry loved you too, always being such a good kid when you babysat for him.

however, you knew that with both of their jobs. you were at some risk. j.j. and will planned ahead, giving the code word of ‘echo’ incase you were ever in trouble. one text to them and they would instantly go into full parent mode. it was only to be used in emergencies, such as if henry got seriously injured or some criminal threat.

tonight, for the first time ever, you had to use the code word.

it was a fairly normal friday afternoon. j.j. had called and asked if you could babysit henry while her and will worked the same case. the exact details weren’t revealed but you knew it was bad judging by the news as well as the fact that two separate divisions were solving the case together.

after being dropped off at the families home, you slung your backpack on your back and walked through the gates up to the front door. you first knocked on the door before stepping back. will opened the door a moment later, greeting you with a slight smile, “hey y/n.”

“hey will, is j.j. already working?” you asked, spinning around when you heard thumping on the stairs.

henry rushed in and immediately ran into your arms. you grinned at the young boy and picked him up, placing him on your hip as you ruffled his hair.

“yeah she had to head in early. i just have to grab my bag and then i’m heading out,” will informed you before leaving the room to get his stuff.

you had been babysitting henry long enough that you didn’t need instructions from them. everything was already memorized. henry jumped out of your arms and ran into the living room.

will walked in with his bag and kissed henry on the forehead to say goodbye. “i’m not super sure when we’ll be back. you already know everything and where your room is if you stay over. thanks again,” and with that, the police detective left the house to drive to quantico.

“alright henry,” you started, “you ready for lunch?” henry’s giggle was answer enough.

for the next six or so hours, you and henry played games, colored, and finally watched tv. by eight pm, he had finally settled down to watch a movie.

while henry’s eyes were glued to the tv, you slipped out of the living room and grabbed your phone so you could watch the local news without scaring or distracting him. the breaking news made you extremely uneasy.

“the local killer who has been terrorizing washington d.c. has been reported to be roaming the streets. all residents have been advised to stay inside and lock there doors. a picture should be showing up on your screens now. if you see this man, please contact the police,” the news anchor reported.

you slipped your phone into your pocket and made your rounds around the house to double check that the doors were locked. just as you were locking one of the windows in the front, you noticed a strange van outside of the house.

at first, you thought that it might have been one of the neighbors or some utility truck. but, after the man inside stepped out, you filled with panic. standing outside of the house, just seconds away from walking up, was the killer on the loose. he seemed to noticed your figure in the window and grinned wickedly.

he was targeting you. he was going to storm in this house and kill you. he was going to kill you and then kill henry. oh my god, henry.

you were on autopilot as you ran through the house, picking henry up in one swift motion and only putting him down when you hit the stairs.

“remember when we would play hide-and-go-seek?” you started. upon seeing the young boys nod, you continued, “i need you to go upstairs and find the best hiding spot you can. stay quiet and don’t move until i come and get you. there’s a man outside who wants to hurt us. i love you henry. now go hide.”

“i love you too,” henry replied before running up the stairs and down the hallway as fast as his little legs could take him.

you slipped behind a wall, thankful that you kept your phone with you. after taking a deep breath, you opened the messaging app and clicked on j.j.’s contact. it was a simple four letter word that you sent that could potentially save your life.

‘echo’ you typed before pressing the send button.

by now, all the lights in the house went out. you ditched your phone on the ground just before the front door slammed open. you shut your eyes, a stray tear slipping down your face. it was now or never.

at quantico, j.j. sat at her desk surrounded by the team at their individual work stations. will remained next to his wife while many of the other cops were out on the street. just as j.j. finished going over one of the files about the unsubs past life, her phone buzzed.

j.j.’s furrowed her eyebrows as she noticed it was a message from you. one four letter word was displayed across her screen. ‘echo’ she read.

“oh my god,” j.j. spoke as she jumped out of her chair, grabbing her bag and making sure her gun was on her hip. “hey,” will called, grabbing her wrist to prevent her from going anywhere.

“echo will, echo,” j.j. repeated. after those words processed, will stood up too, his eyes going wide.

hotch and rossi both emerged from their office and walked down into the bullpen. “what’s going on?” the unit chief asked.

“i think the unsub is at my house. y/n sent a text with our code word she only uses in emergencies,” j.j. ranted as she ran her hand through her hair. hotch pondered for a split second before turning to the room.

“let’s go,” was all he said.

meanwhile, back at the house, loud footsteps walked through the house. a million different scenerios flowed through your mind. if you stayed put and hoped j.j. was on her way, you could just hide and hopefully wait it out. but, there was always the chance the man would discover you. the second option was that you fought back. the only con is that he had a knife and you had just barely above average fighting skills.

after choosing the later decision, you went into full stealth mode to find the best vantage point. as you slipped through the rooms and behind various furniture, you held back a smirk as the killer looked around randomly.

finally, when the mans back was turned, you striked.

the first attack was a solid kick to the back of his knees. the mans knife clattered across the floor as he stumbles slightly. you held your hands up in fists as the killer turned around. he charged at you, pushing you back into the wall. a hard punch was landed to your nose and eyes. your lip managed to split in the process too along with your injured ribs from the tackle. you managed to get out of his grip and kick him in the crotch. when he doubled over, you elbowed him in the back causing him to cripple to the ground.

you were honestly slightly proud of yourself for making it this far but you still had a long way to go. after kneeling down beside him, you punched him once in the nose to add to the pain. the final blow, which knocked him out, was a hard kick to the head.

with shaky hands, you rushed out of the main room and into the connected garage. as fast as you could, you rummaged through the cabinet trying to find something to further prevent the man from causing anymore harm. you stumbled upon zip ties and let out a sigh of relief.

you fastened the zip ties around his wrists and ankles thus preventing him from moving if he did wake up. you left the man on the floor and ran to the stairs.

“henry!” you called, your voice echoing up the stairs, “it’s safe, you can come out now.” maybe that last part was a slight lie but you needed henry to know that it was okay.

the blond-haired boy peered around the railing before running down the stairs and into your arms. despite the pain it brought your ribs, you picked henry up and placed him on your hip as you hugged him. after moving into the main living room, you leaned against the back of the couch and shut your eyes.

for the second time that night, the door slammed open. in stormed the bau team and you could hear other sirens outside. you winced at the lights being turned on so suddenly but still turned to face the group.

j.j. and will immediately rushed over to where you were with henry. will took his son out of your arms and lead him away from the scene. j.j., however, pulled you into a hug, cradling your head with her hand as you began to cry. you were sure that the blood from your nose was definitely getting on her vest.

“i’m sorry,” you choked out.

frowning, j.j. pulled away and placed her hands on your cheeks. yours, in contrast, moved to hold her wrists.

“hey, don’t even say that. you saved henry and for the most part, saved yourself. did you take him down all by yourself?” j.j. questioned.

you nodded as you used the back of your hand to wipe away some of the blood on your face. “i am so proud of you.”

the man was all but thrown into the police car as hotch walked over to where you and j.j. were still standing. “ambulance it waiting,” the man spoke. she turned to you, “we need to get you to a hospital to look at your injuries. i know your parents are out of town and i’m already down as an emergency contact. is it all right if i go with you?”

j.j.’s voice mirrored the one she used for henry. after shaking your head yes, j.j. wrapped an arm around you before leading you out of the house and to the driveway.

with one final smile to will and henry, you both climbed inside, j.j. holding your hand the entire way.

[galaxysessions]

You two are dancing in a snow globe round & round / and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown…

Amanda looked at her reflection in the cloudy mirror hanging from the interior of her locker door. The pads of her fingers swiped expertly beneath blue eyes, hoping to catch any mascara that had strayed through out her day. She fluffed the hair at the crown of her head, wanting to bring life back to her blonde waves, and in a brief moment of psychosis she contemplated running to Duane Reade to purchase a spray or even a hot tool that could save her. Amanda let out an audible groan - at the horrifying fact that she was becoming her mother, at her disappointment in her subpar hair - and slammed her locker door shut. At least the outfit she had tossed together after her shift was cute: dark jeans and a black top with fluttering sleeves that was just sheer enough to hint at what was underneath. 

She was due at One Hogan Place in 20 minutes.

Sonny had insisted that he owed her dinner. How many dinners had he made for her and the girls? Hundreds, it felt like. How many times had they sat around at bars together after cases? Too many to count. How many empty take-out boxes had they shared? A lifetime’s worth. But this, this was different.

This was a date.

Familiar with the DA’s office, Amanda hoped she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew there. She didn’t want to answer questions about why she was hanging out so late and she was too nervous for small talk. Most of all she didn’t want to have to lie, not tonight. Keeping her head down, she flitted up staircases and down hallways until she was in front of Sonny’s office. She pulled in a deep breath, reminded herself that this man had seen her at her very worst, so her flat hair wouldn’t be the end of the world, then gently knocked on the door. It was cracked open, so she waited a beat before she slipped inside.

Sonny was sitting at his desk, leaned over some paperwork. For the brief moment she was able to, she admired the stretch of his shoulders. When he heard her enter, he looked up. The smile that immediately tugged at his mouth when he met her eyes made Amanda’s heart squeeze in her chest out of overwhelming adoration. “Hi,” she exhaled, somehow both more and less anxious at the sight of him. 

“‘Manda, hey,” Sonny greeted her. He stood up and waved her further into his office, coming out from behind his desk. “Come in, come in.”

“You still working?”

He heaved a sigh, returning a file to its rightful cabinet before turning back to her. “It never ends.”

She perched herself on the edge of his desk as she so often did, setting her purse down on the surface beside her. “Hey, c’mere,” she said when she noticed something: his tie was crooked, collar rumpled, his hair out of place. He had probably had a long day. She reached out a hand to him, nose scrunched as she smiled. “Your tie, you… well, like my grandma used to tell me and Kim after a long day of school, when we’d come home all roughed up: ‘you look like you’ve been shot out of a cannon.’”

Another grin broke across his face as he took a step forward, then stood in front of her, still, obedient. Amanda could feel his warm gaze looking down at her while her manicured fingers reached up to adjust the knot of his tie. “Well, you look beautiful.”

She knew her cheeks were turning pink; God, she hated that. What happened to her poker face? Her eyes flickered up to meet his as her hands drifted up toward his collar. Then she was smiling like a lovestruck teenager, as if no man had ever complimented her before this exact moment. Maybe she just needed to hear it from the right one. “Thanks,” she murmured as she smoothed the fabric of his shirt. She didn’t try to fix his hair - she liked the little strand that had escaped its style.

Sonny was standing so close to her that his legs bumped hers, silently asking her to make room for him. So she did: she parted her knees so she could playfully trap him, lower limbs snaking around his tall figure until her feet hooked loosely around the other side. A huff of laughter escaped Sonny as she felt his warm palms slide up the sides of her thighs to find her waist. Through the thin fabric of her shirt she could feel his thumbs moving back and forth, back and forth, and Amanda suddenly no longer cared about their dinner reservations.

Amanda carefully set the heels of her palms back on the edge of the desk, fingertips dangling. Collarbone prominently displayed, she gave her head a languid shake to move her hair away from her face. She gazed up at Sonny, still caught between her legs, playing against her side. Anticipation was beginning to simmer in the pit of her stomach. “Anything else I can help you with, Counselor?” 

Desire had darkened Sonny’s features and now he appeared mischievous as his eyes flickered over her thighs, her chest, her mouth. “Ah…” he started to answer her, but then he leaned in and kissed her instead of completing his thought. There was nothing gentle or cautious about the way his lips found hers: it stole the air from her lungs and his mouth felt searing hot. Her hands lifted from the desk, one cradling his elbow, another reaching up to his jaw. She loved the prickly feeling of newly formed stubble on his face, a sharp contrast to the softness of his tongue. The long line of his body angled itself closer to hers, and as she leaned back, she felt him let out a rough exhale at the way their forms aligned. 

Amanda had sworn to herself that she would not fuck this up - whatever this was that she was doing with Sonny - by having sex with him too soon, but in that moment she was so dizzy with want that his incredibly nerdy desk blotter was looking hotter and hotter. The hand at his elbow dropped blindly to the shiny metal of his belt buckle. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she couldn’t help but toy with it even though she knew it was a bad idea for more than one reason.

“‘Manda…” Sonny growled her name against her mouth, half in a warning, half in encouragement. One of his hands had wandered up the front of her shirt to ghost over her breast, so whatever he was trying to get her to stop doing, he had rendered his own message ineffective. 

“I won’t,” she breathed against his lips insincerely, fingertips trailing down the line of his fly, teasing, testing, “we won’t…” 

“Mr. Carisi, sorry I’m so late. I’ve got those -“ The voice of a young girl accompanied by the office door swinging open broke them both violently from their heated reveries. They separated from one another like they had been electrocuted: Sonny launched himself backward into his file cabinet, appearing to slam his funny bone in the process. Amanda scrambled off of the desk and on to her two feet, loose paperwork flying, hastily wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand as she stood at attention. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, with unruly curly hair wearing an ill-fitting sweater, but most importantly her eyes were wide in complete confusion. A large manila folder hung from her fingers.

“Lindsey!” Sonny yelped, carding his fingers through his hair. “Lindsey, hi. Hey. I just, you can put those on my desk,” he went on, pointing to the space he and Amanda were just occupying. “Thank you.”

Lindsey cautiously, wordlessly, placed the folder where she was told, then stepped back toward the doorway.

“This is, uh… do you know Rollins? Amanda? Detective Rollins?” Sonny asked Lindsey awkwardly, unnecessarily. His eyes shifted over to Amanda as he explained, “Lindsey is a law school intern here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Amanda offered, arms crossed over her chest to indicate that she was not interested in prolonging this painful interaction.

“Nice to meet you,” the student echoed, tone hollow. Turning away from them both, she let her hand linger on the door handle as she asked, “should I close this?”

“Yeah, please,” Sonny mumbled before his intern disappeared into the hallway.

Alone again in the office, Amanda raised both of her eyebrows and shot him a pointed look.  “Real smooth, Carisi.” Her heart was still pounding against her ribcage, partly because they were almost caught, partly because she didn’t know how Sonny was going to handle something like this. He was so nervous about keeping secrets, whereas Amanda felt like her life had been a series of little untruths for as long as she could remember. She kept her arms crossed like she was protecting herself.

Sonny leaned back against the file cabinet as if he was deflating. After what seemed like forever, he let out an exhale, then reached out a hand to her. “So… how about that dinner?”

note - idk just a lil one shot xoxox

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Just in Time

doing this thing | day 7 - hanahaki

I wish I had so much more time for this one because I had so many thoughts. One day I’ll have to write a full fic, but for now:

Jaskier has imagined his death in many ways - at the hands of an angry spouse; quiet, in his bed as an old man; a stray downer - but never like this. Never sneaking off and choking up flower petals where Geralt can't see (or, hopefully, hear) him. The last thing he needs is for Geralt to try and help and to look further into what this is.

Jaskier knows, of course. He's knowledgeable in all aspects of love and up until his recent affliction had, like most poets, romanticized hanahaki disease. But knowing the only person who can cure your impending death is also the reason for it seems less romantic than the stories he'd been told as a child.

The worst part is that in all the years and all the stories, there is only one cure for the disease: requited love.

Jaskier sighs to himself as he plucks one last petal from between his lips. At the rate he's going, he'll have as much luck getting Yen to fall in love with him as Geralt.

He resigns himself to it. The petals took some getting used to, but the most difficult part now is keeping it from Geralt. He knows Geralt suspects something, and after months of this, there's no way he couldn't. The only reason he hasn't brought it up, Jaskier suspects, is for Jaskier's sake or for the sake of peace. It's not like it's getting any worse.

It gets worse.

Jaskier wakes up in the middle of the night, choking on petals. When he catches his breath, he takes a quick look around to ensure Geralt is still sleeping and, finding him still asleep, gathers up the petals and slips away from camp. He buries them at the edge of the forest, as he usually does, but this time when he drops the broken petals into the hole, he finds a bud. Just one. But his heart starts to beat a little quicker nonetheless. For months he's been holding steady with the petals, but a bud means the disease is progressing.

Still, he can't let Geralt know. Geralt would only worry and demand to know what's wrong and, if Jaskier didn't tell him, likely take him to a healer and get it figured out himself. And once he knew, gods, Jaskier can't even imagine what that would mean for him. If Geralt knew he was in love would he want to know who with? Would he press if it meant making Jaskier better? He doesn't want to think about it at all.

As with all things in his life, this eventually blows up in his face.

He's performing at a banquet. A tavern would have been too casual, an inn too practical. No, it has to be a manor house surrounded by the wealthy and powerful - and worst of all, Geralt. He's halfway through a jig when he feels the tickling begin. He makes it through the end of the song by some miracle, before coughing and spluttering. He slaps a hand over his mouth but a few petals slip through his fingers as he makes a quick escape to the garden.

Jaskier's hunched over a railing, coughing flowers into the flowerbeds below. For something so soft and delicate, they burn in his throat as though fighting their way out. A gentle hand presses against his back and Geralt slips up close.

"Jaskier," he says and he sounds worried, a tone reserved for... well, not him.

"'M fine," he mumbles, but as soon as he opens his mouth another handful of petals spill from his lips.

"Fuck. Jaskier." The hand on his back fists in his doublet, the other coming around to cover Jaskier's hand. "We have to get you to a healer."

"No," he insists. "Geralt-" he splutters and chokes on a loose petal and hangs his head. How does he explain there's no helping him? None at least that are worth the sacrifice.

"Then Yennefer."

Jaskier turns, wiping his mouth as he lifts his head to look at him. Yen is the last person he wants to see in this state, but Geralt looks scared in a way Jaskier has never seen him before.

"If it gets worse," he suggests.

"No," Geralt says, "before it gets worse."

They argue about it on and off for a few weeks. It's an argument Jaskier doesn't win.

Yennefer is none too pleased to see him, especially when she realizes he is the cause for their visit. She looks him over, clearly realizing something is up when Jaskier holds back a cough.

"He's coughing up flowers," Geralt says, "I've never seen anything like it."

"Hanahaki," Yen sighs, crossing her arms across her chest. "Your bard is in love. Unrequited." Yen looks like she's about to say something more, but Jaskier looks up at her, pleading. He knows she knows what’s happening to him, but Geralt can't know. Don't tell him, he begs silently. Yen gives him an odd look but she doesn't say anything.

"Geralt," she says, "I need a moment with the bard." She keeps her eyes on Jaskier and the intensity of it is a little terrifying, but the alternative is much, much worse. As soon as Geralt is out of earshot, she sits across from him, crossing her legs and leaning on them.

"You know," she says accusingly.

"Yes."

"So why are you here? I can't imagine you came to enjoy my company?"

"I don't want him to worry."

Yen laughs at him. "Too late."

"Don't tell him."

"That you'll die?"

"Yes."

"Why not try to cure it?" Yen's eyes narrow skeptically and Jaskier sighs.

"My beloved will never return my feelings, nor would I expect them to."

"There's another option," she insists though Jaskier can't fathom why.

"I will never fall out of love, not this time." He looks down, focusing too hard on his boots and Yen scoffs.

"Then you're a fool," Yen snaps, rising to her feet.

"Then I suppose I shall die a fool, but please don't tell him."

"If he asks, I won't lie." She leaves the room and Jaskier sighs, dropping his chin against his chest.

"Wouldn't expect anything less," he mumbles. For a few minutes, he sits in silence before realizing Yen isn't coming back. He gathers himself up and leaves the little hut, making his way back to where Geralt is waiting.

"What did she say?" he asks and Jaskier only shrugs.

"Nothing to be done, I'm afraid. We'll have to wait for it to go away on its own."

It doesn't go away, nor does Jaskier ever expect it to. If anything, he's resigned himself to a slow death so long as he can spend his remaining days with Geralt. And he does.

Geralt takes care of him now that he's not hiding it any longer, ensuring he's always warm and well-fed. They'll stop early for the night when Jaskier has a bad fit and Geralt will take care of the rest of the duties around camp. Jaskier is torn. He feels guilty for letting Geralt do so much for him when he's not doing anything to try and make himself better. But a part of him relishes the attention, wishes that it was the way they always were - or at least some of the time. At the same time, he realizes the only reason Geralt is acting like this at all is because Jaskier is sick.

He does everything he can to help and Jaskier just gets worse. He sees the toll it takes on Geralt, how every moment he's not hunting becomes dedicated to Jaskier. And Jaskier tries not to let him, but Geralt is having none of it. And Jaskier gets worse.

It's a cold autumn night when Geralt realizes his efforts are doing no good. They're at an inn, in a single bed because Geralt won't let him get very far away anymore. Jaskier is facing the wall, his back to Geralt's chest when he finally hears the words he's been dreading.

"It's not going to get better, is it?" Geralt's voice is soft but seems like thunder in his ears and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut.

"No, darling, it's not."

Geralt's arm tightens a little around him, though Jaskier suspects it's a reflex. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't want to worry you. I was hoping you'd be gone for the winter before it got this bad."

"I won't leave you like this," Geralt rumbles, "there must be something I can do."

Jaskier could cry at the injustice of it all. He wants to tell Geralt the truth, but he can't put that on him, can't put his death on Geralt's hands. Already, he's sure Geralt will blame himself for it.

"There's nothing, my dear. It's enough to have you here."

Geralt curls around him nose pressed into his hair. Jaskier has to fight back tears, curling around himself as he struggles to catch his breath. His throat is raw from hacking up blooms and he hasn't told Geralt, but they've been more frequent recently and complete with stems and leaves. More than one at a time.

He shuts his eyes and presses into Geralt's warmth, taking care to pay attention to every little detail of Geralt's body against his own. It's so unfair that this is all he has ever wanted and he knows now that he won't live to see the morning. This isn't the way he thought he'd go, but he can't think of a much better way, really. Geralt is soft and warm around him and he listens to the sound of his breath as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

In the morning he's... still alive. He's not sure how because he was so sure of the end, more than he'd been sure of anything. He takes a deep breath to measure the strain and there... nothing. He breathes easily for the first time in months and his heart starts pounding because he still loves Geralt. He can feel the warmth of his body around him, entangled with him and it seeps into his bones. Which means...

His eyes snap open, immediately focusing on Geralt's eyes before him. He can't breathe, but oddly this seems more familiar.

"It was me," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier can feel his lips twitch just slightly. "You almost died, Jaskier, why didn't you tell me?"

Jaskier reaches up, winding both arms around Geralt's neck and drawing him closer. "I didn't want you to blame yourself, darling." Geralt looks conflicted, like he wants to say something, but doesn't know what, so Jaskier interrupts. "Geralt?" he whispers, "tell me you mean it."

"I mean it. I'm sorry it took so long." He tips forward, pressing his lips to Jaskier's. When he draws back, he's smiling and Jaskier will never forget the way he looks now with the morning sun shining in on his face.

"Darling, you were just in time."

[sparklingchan]

Chapter 4|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 1.9k+

Warnings : Fight scenes, injuries but nothing too intense.

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: The day of the Capture the flag game arrives and there’s no denying that you and Felix make a wonderful team. Somewhere in the back of your head, you make a quiet note to have him by your side even when the real quests start.

A/N : Y’all I’m so bad at writing action scenes XDD I swear I’m trying to get better at it.

Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST ||  Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

Game mornings have always been your favorite.

Leaving out having to wake up early, you love everything else about game mornings; the little cheer song Apollo kids go about singing, the freshly cut fruits at breakfast which are otherwise a rare sight, camp students being all nice to each other which again is kind of rare, all the Satyrs moving here and there with banners and swords and arrows. The camp feels livelier than ever.

And to Felix, this sight is a complete different world. Almost like a pleasant dream.

Felix watches all the excited kids move around the camp, the jumping Satyr, the hearty breakfast and a new, foreign glow on your face as you sit across from him, explaining the game to him once again.

"Weren't you paying attention the first time?" You deadpan when he asks you to repeat, your front teeth nibbling against your lower lip in annoyance.

Felix smiles sheepishly and tilts his head with a shrug of his shoulders, as if to say 'Not really.'

You end up explaining it to him again because who could ever say no to that smile.

"So Capture the flag game is played in different ways by different Camps all around the world. As for Camp Levanter, we have a special set of rules that are to be followed."

"We're divided into two groups, which are further divided into smaller sub groups. Each group only has one purpose - to capture the flag that has been hidden at the Athena temple on the hill behind our camp. We can use dummy weapons to stop our opponents from getting to the flag first but we're not allowed to fatally hurt anyone or use our powers. Whoever gets to the flag first, wins. Do you understand now?"

Felix nods with a tense smile.

"I'm nervous, y/n." He later goes on to admit as Minho and Eden declare the beginning of the games and call over the participants near the starting line. You glance at him and he is fidgety, like a middle schooler going to his first date. He wears a loose black t-shirt with a pair of extra baggy pants and his fingers play with the blonde strands of his hair.

When he catches your gaze, he smiles ever so sweetly.

You look away.

You feel the adrenaline course through your own veins as you gently pat his shoulder, "We're gonna win this. Trust me."

The other participants soon gather at the starting line, the competitiveness very much distinct in their sharp glances and quiet snickers, a contrast to how it were this morning. You'd never been one to be nervous before and today, you feel more confident than you've ever felt before. You wonder if the boy standing beside you, with his fingers tight around the sharp wooden sword, has something to do with this sudden confident outburst.

"Alright. Everyone, get ready!" Minho grabs everyone's attention with his loud voice, "And.....GO!"

Eden blows the Horn and you turn to look at Felix, sending him a wink,

"We're winning this, Lee."

*

A few seconds into the game and you realise that Felix and you make a bloody wonderful team. He's good with the sword while you're good with the arrows, he has sharp senses while you have sharp reflexes.

Your opponents attack you at the most random, unexpected moment but the both of you happen to defeat everyone of them and move closer to the temple, climbing through the thick mountain forest.

"You know, I didn't think we'd make such a great team. " Felix admits, panting and wincing as a tree branch brushes past a bruise on his arm, "You're not that bad, eh?"

You manage to giggle just before an arrow wheezes past you, missing you by a single inch.

Your heart as if stops beating for a second.

"Shit! I thought we were leading!" You hiss, falling on the ground.

Felix gets ready to defend your vulnerable position, his sword raising in alarm.

While on the ground, you quickly grab an arrow and position your bow in the direction from which the opponents' arrow flew.

You hear crunching of leaves and branches and quiet whispering.

"They're here." Felix mutters.

The footsteps get closer and closer and before you know it, Felix is tackled aggressively onto the ground. You turn around and shoot your arrow, almost blinded by the suddenness of the situation.

"Goddamn it, Han Jisung!" Felix groans as he wrestles for dominance over Jisung, who is laughing almost maniacally.

"Jisung, I swear to-" you are about to get up and run towards the wrestling duo, but an arrow falls onto the ground, just near your feet.

Its your arrow.

"I underestimated you, y/n. You seem to be a pretty good archer." Changbin appears from behind one of the trees, a visible bruise on his cheek from where the blunt, rubber arrowhead must have hit him.

"And I, you." You respond, grabbing another arrow and stretching the string of your bow, "We're going to win this, Changbin. You might as well get going before I bruise your pretty face again."

Your words come from nowhere but a place of playfulness and competition, but Changbin's eyes turn dark.

You quickly run over to cover Felix, who seems to have gained dominance over a very tired Jisung, all of Jisung's arrows having fallen out of the case and onto the ground.

"I could say the same for you." Changbin approaches you, a wooden knife in one hand and a spear in the other.

He attacks and you dodge, smooth like a cat.

"Felix! Go! Get the flag!" You yell and hope Felix realises that Jisung is too tired to keep up a good fight, "Quick! Go now!"

Felix jumps from a panting, sweaty Jisung and runs towards the temple on top of the hill, his footsteps momentarily slowing down as he turns around to look at you, as if for reassurance.

You nod, "Go."

Your eyes turn to Changbin, who has his head tilted with a smirk on his face.

"I have always been a better runner than Felix, you know."

He tries to run past you but you grab the back of his shirt and drag him back, almost slipping in the process. Reflexively, he grabs your hand and forces his shirt out of your fist while you struggle to keep your feet flat on the ground.

Changbin is strong, you realise, extremely strong so when you try to throw in a punch, he dodges it easily.

Your brain is running wild now; your only motive being distracting Changbin from running after Felix.

"He won't go easy on you just because you've grown up together, you know." You say, almost mockingly as he tries to get out of your tight grip. You wonder if his shirt collar might tear because of it.

He scoffs, not bothering to answer but instead reaches for his wooden knife. And in the blink of an eye, the knife slashes across your forehead.

"Oh, God!" You groan, clutching the burning area on your forehead. Your body once again falls onto the ground, your vision extremely blurry.

With barely an eye open, you see Changbin run up the hill but you're quick to move and grab his feet such that he trips and falls down. You drag him down further, while he struggles to climb up.

Your heart beat is in your throat, your vision almost zero and your entire body is as if on fire. You pray to the Gods that Felix comes down the hill with the flag because in this state, you could only hold onto Changbin for so long. And not to mention Jisung who's slowly getting up with loud groans and complains falling out of his mouth.

As if on que, you hear footsteps hurrying down from up the hill and soon an enthusiastic voice follows,

"Y/n! We won!"

You wish to run up and hug the man but in your state, all you can do is let go of Changbin's leg and let out a sigh of relief, followed by a giggle.

"Told you, didn't I?"

* You often find yourself thanking the makers of Camp Levanter for making the Zeus cabin as far away from the others as possible that afternoon. It gives a much needed sense of privacy and the luxury of being able to choose when to socialize.

"I hope it doesn't leave a scar behind." You mutter to yourself, tending to your wounds on the verandah of your cabin.

You dip a cotton ball in an anti septic lotion and gently dab over your forehead, wincing when it stings.

"Need help?" You hear a heavy voice from near the staircase of the cabin and your heart jumps a little at his sight, "If you don't mind."

You run your eyes over the various purple and red marks on Felix's body and you pat the space next to you on the floor for him to come sit on.

"Your friend is dangerous." You remark when he settles down, flashing him your forehead wound.

He shrugs guiltily, "He's just a little aggressive, that's all. He'll come around."

Felix shifts in his seat and takes the cotton ball from your hand, silently volunteering to clean your forehead wound.

The sting is still very prominent, but Felix's other hand rubs comforting circles on your cheek to ease the pain.

"Minho told me that you met mom." He mutters after a few seconds, his lips turned down into a frown. Almost as if the news upset him.

"Yeah, I did." You admit as he applies an ointment and then fixes a bandaid over your wound.

"Have you never met-"

"No, I haven't. I don't know what she looks like or sounds like. My father never told me and she never bothered to show herself." Is he angry that his mother met you and not him?

You purse your lips, the sudden rise in tension making you uncomfortable.

"Hey, hey. I am not angry at you in particular." Ah, Aphrodite kids can feel auras. "I just wished she'd come to meet me as well. I don't know why she doesn't. " he mutters.

"Well," you start, "If it makes you feel any better, she did tell me that she wants you to go with us for a quest. Says its important for you to go."

Felix's eyes glimmer with a sense of relief. "Really?"

"Yes, of course and I'm sure she'll meet you soon." You reassure him, though you yourself weren't sure what Aphrodite might do. She isn't the most motherly entity, according to Hyunjin and the other Aphrodite kids.

"Do you want me to go the quest?"

You are applying the ointment on the bruise on his cheek when he decides to drop that question, catching you off guard.

"Why would my approval matter?" You ask.

"It matters." He almost whispers, "To me."

Heat races to your face at his unexpected yet sweet words. You know you shouldn't feel like this, you shouldn't get flustered because of a boy you met only a couple of days ago but under his unsettlingly calm gaze, you find yourself melting. Bit by bit.

"Okay, enough talk." You shake out of the trance, "Go to your cabin and rest. We leave tomorrow night. I hope you paid attention while Minho was explaining the quest or do I need to repeat it?"

Felix giggles, shaking his head, "I paid attention."

He jogs down the small stairs of your cabin and waves you goodbye, making his way to his cabin.

"And Felix,"

"Yes?"

I want you to come with me to the quest.

"Don't forget to have Ambrosia before bed. It'll help your wounds heal faster."

Oh, silly,silly, y/n!

[anauthore]

Escape From Halloweentown {Jack Skellington x Reader} CHAPTER 2

Summary: When a game of hide-and-seek goes wrong, you find yourself lost in the woods without a way home. Whether it be fate, or just dumb luck, you suddenly find yourself in a far bigger predicament than you ever thought you would be- and it’s not just because you can’t seem to find your little brother.

Pairing: Reader / Jack Skellington. A very slow burn fic.

NOTE: This is a full-length fanfic! If you don’t want to read chapter by chapter on tumblr, please use the following links to read in a different format / on a different website!

Wattpad | Quotev | AO3

Fic Below the Cut | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A skeleton. 

Or, at least, something not at all human.

Your eyes didn’t move from the creature at all, paralyzed to his tall, thin form and rounded skull with empty black holes for eyes. You could just make out his vertebrae peeking out from his suit’s collar, fused at the ends in what seemed more like a neck of bone rather than a spine.

He spoke, his voice not at all what you were expecting, his ‘lips’ parting to reveal yellowed, rotting teeth with yet another black void to make up his mouth. 

“Why, hello! And who may you be, miss?”

His politeness stirred something up within you, although the primal fear you were experiencing was far stronger than any other emotion you’d ever felt in all 17 years of your life. You were stuck to the edge of the couch, feet spread so that if you had to, you could jump up and make an escape.

“Can you-” Jack turned to Prince, quieting his tone so that it wasn’t as menacing. “Can she hear me okay?” His brow bone was raised in what you read as concern which only confused you more.

Prince nodded, speaking in that scratchy voice of his that sent shivers down your back. “Yes, she can. She’s a human, you know- She shouldn’t be here.”

The other vampires agreed, nodding their heads. You realized that these vampire-obsessed ‘people’ probably weren’t people either, considering the monster that was Jack standing before you. Your heartbeat quickly and you felt more and more like a caged animal as every aching second passed.

“I know.”

They all turned to look at you, and you couldn’t control your breathing any longer. The fear you’d pushed down suddenly bubbled up and you could feel it turn into tears that threatened to spill from your lids.

“What are you gonna do?” You had to focus really hard to keep your lip from trembling. Your parents had taught you how to stand up to a predator, or a kidnapper, but never to a real-life monster. You imagined the worst and had forgotten everything you knew about self-defense. Right now, you were running on the ever building adrenaline and instinct in your body.

“We’ll just have to figure that out, won’t we?” His lips turned upward in a smile, and you couldn’t help but think that this must be what mice feel when they get put into a cage with a hungry snake. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you sniffed back your tears and kept quiet while you were in the spotlight of everyone’s scrutinous gaze.

You did the only thing you could do besides listening to their plans on what to do with you; you took in every detail you possibly could, from the bony hands and odd dress wear the men had to the interior decoration of the living room you were sitting in. You went as far as to describe the smell of the musk and mold in your head, just in case that would at all be important for a future investigation.

Your mind started to wander back to your brother. Had these monsters taken him, too? Oh, God, what did they do with him?

You bowed your head and let strands of your hair fall forward. You were ashamed to find yourself in this situation. You were ashamed to have even lost your brother in the first place. And now, you were ashamed to be stuck in a room with people you didn’t know, possibly a future murder case. You let a few stray tears run down your cheek, your chest aching and your nails digging into your thighs.

The floor creaked as someone moved, and your head jerked up to watch what they were doing. You stopped crying out of fear, though the blood had already begun to rush to your face and your eyes had started to swell.

Jack stepped forward, his spider-esque legs all you could see directly in front of you as he towered over your hunched form. He bent over so that he was face-to-face with you and extended a bony hand for you to take. You didn’t know whether you should take it or not, and so you didn’t.

His brow bone crooked upward and he put the hand on his hip, posing as if he were an angry teen girl. You would’ve found this humorous had you not been so scared.

“C’mon, now, don’t be so stubborn.” He reached out his hand once more, this time with more of an exaggerated flick of his wrist, and this time you took it, timidly placing your palm into his cold digits. He grasped your wrist, though it felt less like fingers and more like tiny, stone snakes curling around you. He pulled you up and put an arm around your shoulder, nudging you toward the door with his phalanges loosely wrapped around your flesh. “Out we go!”

The door opened again and he said goodbye to his partners in crime, walking you to a destination unknown. You had half of a mind to run- after all, the houses were as still as when you’d arrived, and there didn’t seem to be an extra step in the dirt anywhere. Still, you imagined that there were more menacing monsters out there besides Jack and the vampires, so you obeyed the skeleton man and went wherever he wanted you to go.

You passed the familiar fountain and he nudged you toward a road opposite of where you’d come in. You’d noticed it, sure, but you hadn’t given it a second glance. You regretted that now, because if you had, you might’ve had a better chance at planning your next escape- whenever that would be, if it would even have a chance to happen.

His pace quickened, his long legs using little to no effort at all as he walked next to you, who was struggling to keep up with him. He pushed you along gently- if you could call his bones prodding into your back gentle- and gave you very little time to look at the buildings that lined the street. You looked down at your feet most of the time, trying not to trip on a loose brick or stone.

When Jack stopped, you kept going, and he had to grab you by the hood of your jacket to keep you from running into a gate very similar to the one that you’d passed in the graveyard. You wheezed at having been nearly choked and stepped back, watching as he raised a brow and pursed his lip at you. You cleared your throat and apologized quietly, still very obviously afraid of him.

With one hand he gripped your sleeve and with the other he made a skeleton key seemingly appear from thin air. He unlocked the gate- black iron shaped to look like a jack-o-lantern- and pushed it open with his back as he pulled you along. You, of course, followed, glancing upward to realize that he was leading you toward the tower you had seen nearly from the forest.

It looked as if it were balanced precariously on the edge of the long line of steps that lead up to it. Your fear grew as now you weren’t only scared of Jack, but also about the possibility of this building collapsing under the weight and pressure it was put under. It must’ve been old- the windows looked like they belonged in a church and the wood was cracked and peeling. When you walked up the stairs, they creaked under your weight. You spotted numerous screws and nails loosened and sticking out from the sides- which were completely open and almost beckoning you to fall over the side to the ground. 

The climb had your knees weak and your legs shaking as you struggled not to think about the steep drop you’d encounter had you tried to leave at this point. Your captor didn’t seem at all bothered- he opened up his front door just fine and pushed you inside the doorframe, which was stretched to accommodate his unusual height. 

Immediately, the living room threw you for a loop. There was a single loveseat in the middle of the room, which connected to what you thought was a kitchen. Why a skeleton needed to eat, you didn’t know, but you hoped his diet didn’t consist of human. 

He shut the door behind you both and continued to push you to the corner of the living room. There were yet another set of thin, precarious stairs that you climbed, leading to a spiral staircase enclosed in tube-like walls. Only when you reached the top was there a railing, decorated as every other railing in this town seemed to be. There were windows spanning the entirety of the wall all around you, save for where the fireplace and bookshelves were. Around there was normal décor; a telescope, playing cards and stuffed animals sitting on a desk with a chair neatly pushed into it, a dog bed, and a small, round rug that occupied one corner of the room. The only thing that stood out to you entirely was the electric chair replica opposite of where you stood. You wouldn’t put it past Jack for it to be the real thing, and you didn’t really want to find out, but you doubted that you had a choice.

He must’ve noticed your wide eyes taking in everything because he grabbed your shoulders and waved an arm in front of you in a grand gesture. “Now, I know this may be a lot to take in, but I promise this place is very accommodating.” He then positioned himself in front of you so that you had to look at him and smiled.

He moved around behind you and nudged you further, toward the chair that you had just been hoping you didn’t have to interact with at all. You froze up, looking back and forth between what you could see of him and the chair.

He patted the seat gently, as if it were a horse or a leather couch, obviously wanting you to sit. You started to shake your head, but he interrupted you once again with words.

“C’mon now, it doesn’t bite. It isn’t even plugged in! I know how fragile humans are, believe it or not. It’s comfortable, you’ll see.”

You still didn’t want to sit, and if you could, you’d avoid it at all costs. “No. I won’t sit.”

He paused, and for a moment you were afraid that you’d pissed him off. “Excuse me?”

You cleared your throat again, trying your best to focus on his eye-holes. “I said no. I’m not sitting in an electric chair. Please.”

He stood up and tilted his head, as though you’d offended him by not sitting down. “Very well then. I don’t think the floor is very comfortable, but if you’d rather make yourself at home there, then I won’t stop you.”

And just like that, the subject was dropped. He didn’t seem angry, or like he wanted to punish you. In fact, he seemed about as confused at your behavior as you were at his. Your mind was running rampant with possible explanations, none of which fitting the puzzle piece you needed to figure this endeavor out.

After another aching moment of silence, decorated by the sound of the wind against the glass outside, you asked what’s been on your mind since he’d arrived at the vampires’ house.

“What are you going to do with me?”

Jack sighed, and sat in the electric chair himself with a hand placed under his chin and his legs spread out so that he was comfortable. 

“Well,” he stalled, making you think that he didn’t know what he was to do at all, “you’re staying with me.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, anger bubbling up within you. You had just been kidnapped, and all he could tell you was something completely obvious? You opened your mouth to retort, but you thought better of it. You still couldn’t put your finger on him.

He tilted his head to look at you, and you licked your lips out of nervous habit. The wind had made them dry, and you were starting to feel thirsty. Jack definitely had a keen eye, because his next sentence was right on par:

“Are you hungry? Or perhaps thirsty?”

You slowly nodded, walking on eggshells as to not trigger his back-and-forth nature. You were still afraid of him, and his kindness made you think about the very real possibility of becoming a sufferer of Stockholm Syndrome.

He stood from the chair and started to step forward to you. You took a step back and craned your neck to look up at him, hoping that you didn’t look as scared as you felt. He stopped and looked away from you.

“I-” he took in a breath and stared you down, his demeanor back to the way it was when you’d first met him. His voice boomed with authority now, his soft side (or whatever it was he’d shown you in the first minutes when you’d been introduced to his observatory) now completely gone. “I can’t leave you up here alone. You have to sit in the chair.”

You shook your head. Between everything, you’d gained some of your fighting spirit back, and so you spoke your mind. “No.”

He furrowed his brows and nodded. “Fine then.” He turned on his heel and reached into a box near the dog bed you were both standing next to. You didn’t give it a second thought until now- you didn’t see a dog, or even another animalistic creature, around him at all. Did he expect you to be his pet? Was this what this man got off on?

Your fears were confirmed when he held a collar already attached to a leash in his carpals. You stepped back once more, glancing behind you to make sure you weren’t cornered, and shook your head. “No. I am not going to be your pet.”

“I can’t trust you. This is necessary- stop making it harder than it needs to be. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Adrenaline pumped through you once more and you were ready to run. You didn’t care about the stairs or the fall anymore- you just wanted out. He unclasped the collar and stepped toward you, closing a good amount of the distance between the two of you with one step. You scrambled to action, turning and starting to run before you were yanked back by your hood, again. Your hands instinctively reached to your throat and you pulled to loosen the fabric, struggling to slide out of your coat and break away once again.

Jack was one step ahead of you. You pulled in your arms and he wrapped his own around your middle, pulling your hoodie over the top of your head and locking the collar around your neck with one swift motion. He let you go and yanked the end of the leash, fastening it to a hook on the chair that you had been avoiding this whole time. You stumbled backward and landed on your rear, sliding slightly on the tiles. In such a small amount of time, you’d been outsmarted and caged, unable to escape even if you tried. 

You heaved out, pulling at the collar but to no avail. You ran your fingertips around the entrance of a keyhole, not having noticed a key on Jack other than his front door key. You glanced around from where you sat on the floor, defeated, and finally met Jack’s sockets. He didn’t say anything to you. He didn’t stand there, triumphant, nor did he bend down to hand you your discarded jacket from the floor near him. He was just stoic, an unreadable expression plastered on his features.

He finally broke your gaze and walked down the staircase, and somewhere at the bottom, you heard a door shut.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to even believe you were stuck here, quite literally on a leash, but this had quickly become your uncanny reality. 

You reached for your hoodie and crumpled it up on your legs, burying your head in it and letting loose. You whimpered like a dog, sobbing into the fabric. It was your only connection to home now.

It was the only connection you had left, at this point, to your brother.

[mochibrokenheart]

SVSSS: Guardian of the Museum

Mobei Jun x Shang Qinghua

Word Count: 2,756

Summary: Of course there's ominous growling and destruction to the building on Shang Qinghua's first night as a museum curator. Of course there is! Besides being desperate to keep the job, he's not sure what possesses him to actually walk toward the dangerous situation. His survival instincts were better trained that! Except...wait a minute...the terrifying creature causing all the ruckus is actually the hottest thing he's ever seen???

My first contribution for Moshang Monsterfucking Month (and my first fic for the fandom in general!) Heavy on the monster part as the nsfw is not explicit. Who knew that it would be hard to write something short. Inspired by the Day 2 prompt: horny.

Also posted on my Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34305571

A nearby bell tolled at midnight just as Shang Qinghua locked up the museum for the night, which meant that he was officially off for the weekend. Being a party of one, he celebrated with a groovy victory dance while turning the key over in the lock.

There was a little click and he rattled the knob, checking that the door was properly locked—if anything was stolen or vandalized during the night, he would most definitely be blamed as the recent hire!

The job was an important stepping stone in his career path plan to being a rare artifacts curator. He really needed the experience. It was hard enough to land the job, so he wasn’t above looking neurotic by double, and triple, and quadruple checking everything before he left.

A chilly breeze tussled his hair and raised goosebumps down his neck. It was October, he supposed while drawing up his hood to block the chill, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to complain.

He was much to delicate for cold temperatures and would exercise his right to curse out the changing seasons. Of course, he could move somewhere further south, so that he wouldn’t have to put up with it anymore, but still!

The only good thing about the loss of summer was the bugs, he decided.

Clearly, Shang Qinghua was irresistible because bugs treated his blood like an all-you-can buffet. If only hot men thought the same. But alas.

Sighing, he turned up to admire the full moon, who seemed to sympathize with the sad state of his romantic affairs, being the moon and all. Something about it’s pale gray-white color naturally emoted a sad, longing reflection.

It was as he was looking up that he heard a growl, loud not because of its pitch—it was actually quite low and gravelly—but because it vibrated the very air around him.

Shit. Shit. He wasn’t equipped to deal with some beast! He had no weapons and there was no way his body was going to get the job done either. He was a delicate flower, just ask the bugs who always feasted on him!

He rummaged through his bag frantically for his phone. That was what the authorities were for.

Opening his phone, his mind was racing. Who did you call when there was a potentially wild animal on the loose? The police? Animal control?

Gasp! What if it turned out to be a demon?

…!!!

He didn’t have any shamans or priests on speed dial. There had never been a reason to until then but if it would save him, he’d buy up every type of religious necklace he could and wear them around his neck daily. It was like insurance—it never hurt to cover all of his bases.

While he was wasting time on the sidewalk, what appeared to be small bits of gravel drifted down from what seemed like the roof. Scurrying to get closer to the streetlight, which casted a circular light on the steps of the museum, Shang Qinghua bent down to get a closer look.

It felt dusty when he rubbed his pointer finger against his thumb and did match the shade of stone the building was…The new evidence presented a bit of dilemma. Yes, he was still itching to call somebody have them do the dangerous work, but at the same time, his boss might fire him if something happened to the museum under his watch.

“Well, if there’s more damage, I guess I’ll take a look,” he muttered. He clasped his hands together. “But please, take mercy on me, moon! I promise that if you get me out of this that my next erotica will be dedicated solely to you, and in very large print, so that my readers know the reach of your mystical power!”

His hands remained clasped high above his head as he waited. So far so good.

There was still the scary growls, of course, but those didn’t count because he wasn’t going to investigate that. It was absolutely common knowledge that people who investigated weird sounds always ended up dead, at least in horror movies, and that was all the proof he needed to wash his hands of it.

No, the only thing that could sway him from his crouch on the front steps was…was…

Tears shimmered in his eyes as more rubble was knocked off from the roof, the fine particles irritating his nose and causing him to sneeze.

Thoroughly betrayed, he used his sleeve to wipe at his nose. Forget the moon. Clearly the bond he felt had only been one-sided, and now he was obligated to actually suck it up and put himself in harms way.

The Shang Qinghua of five minutes ago would’ve screamed and called himself a fool. Why ignore those highly honed flight instincts?! Even the Shang Qinghua of the present was screaming and calling himself a fool when he took the first hesitant step inside.

It was deceptively quiet in the stairwell but that wasn’t enough to calm him. As the saying went, it was the calm before the shit storm and he was about to be right in the middle of it. How careless of him.

Just in case this was the end, he started to draft an epitaph—it’s not like anyone else would put in the same amount of effort. 

His minor following would be too busy wailing about the permanent book hiatus; his boss would have their hands full dealing with insurance over the architectural damage; and that hot-and-cold cucumber bro of his would still be nagging him in the afterlife, criticizing him for his stupid plan when it ‘clearly would’ve been better to do such and such’. But back to him.

We are gathered here to mourn the passing of one Shang Qinghua, a bright hamster that was taken from Earth far too soon. His exhibit work was flawless, his knack for collections cataloging unrivaled. There was never a day without bountiful office supplies with him around. We thank him for his singular brave—foolish?—sacrifice in the name of historical value. Shang Qinghua is survived by several dying houseplants and the stray dog he usually fed on his way home from work.

There. That sounded as good as he was likely to get. Wait. No. He almost left out the most important part: the secret letter of last words meant only for cucumber bro’s eyes. Bro, if you’re reading this it’s because I died a terrible and scary death. Please take pity and wipe all of my search history. It was all for research, honest! It’s bad taste to judge a dead man.

The access door to the roof was large and imposing in front of him, even though there was still no noise coming from the other side. He was going to be mad and then relieved, in that exact order, if this turned out to be nothing.

He inhaled. Exhaled. Jumped around and shook his hands where they hung down beside the length of his body. He’d watched enough athletes—for research!—throughout his short life and getting loose always seemed to pump them up for competition. The same principle should apply here.

The door gave with a loud screech and he suspected that it wasn’t in regular use. Not that there was probably much to see up there anyway. Just roosting pigeons, stone slabs, and—

His mind went blank.

Crouching in the corner, so close to the edge that all it would take was a gust of wind to send him tumbling down, was some sort of winged creature. And the wings were massive things that arched up before curving downward completely over it’s back, the tips draped on the ground. Judging by how large they were, they had to be functional, which nearly caused him to wet himself. 

He didn’t want to imagine that thing taking flight after him. Not that he would be exciting prey. Gods, this probably how a mouse felt when a hawk was flying overhead.

But it was the horns that really caught his attention. They were hulking black spirals and the sharp points were pointed right at him. Even in the poor light, it was obvious that they were pure black. Any other time, he might comment on how cool they actually were, how they were a cosplayer’s dream, but it wasn’t cool when it was a matter of life and death. 

And he would most certainly die if those menacing horns and wings were any indication.

Trying to keep the element of surprise, he slowly let the door swing shut. Until a little bat started flew over squeaking, which caused him to squeak as well. The door hit the frame with a loud rattle. His body went heavy with fear and his eyes snapped shut, a natural prey response. He had never, ever been this scared.  

Not patient enough for Shang Qinghua to turn around on his own, the creature flung him around to face it with an aggressive growl. And he had thought it was loud when he was on the sidewalk. Which wasn’t true at all. It was much louder and more intimidating when it was right in his face.

“Trespasser!” it growled, teeth clicking.

…Okay, so it could talk. Maybe this was a good thing. Now could grovel with it to spare him!

Blinking rapidly, he opened his eyes and looked up, up, up. It didn’t look as horrific from the front as it did the back. In fact, it had a humanoid appearance and was distinctly male. He was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, a total fantasy come to life. How the hell was he real?

His was incredibly tall, his huge wings proportional to his size now that he was standing up. Now that he saw them up close, Shang Qinghua noticed that they were a beautiful shade of blue that started out dark but lightened to pale blue once it reached the tips, which also had sharp spikes—Nails? Claws? He wasn’t well versed in anatomy—attached.

The top of his ears were pointy, too, just like the tops of the wings. Oh, and the horns! There were two of them, both pure, glossy obsidian, that sprouted out on either side of his temple, the bases thick and ridged as they spiraled like a ram’s. The only difference was that his horns were much larger. He could maul someone with those along if he wasn’t careful.

But now that he considered it more—even in times of crisis, he could multi-task when it really counted—the horns only added more to his attractiveness. They were intimating, sure, but also sexy, in a monsterfucking type of way. He gasped as a clawed hand wrapped around his throat. Yep, he could definitely get into the horns and claws. Mark him down as scared and horny.

The growling died down but sharp teeth were still on display, and there was a stylized tattoo-looking mark on his forehead. Despite the snarl, Shang Qinghua instinctively knew that his face was insanely attractive; it had to be to match the rest of him. Speaking of the rest of him…

He dropped down in front of him, making sure to drag his hands down that ripped physique and gave his massive pectorals a quick squeeze before he landed on his knees in a kneeling position. 

His face was right in front of the creature’s impressive package, covered only by a flimsy loin cloth. It fluttered in the night breeze and he had to bite down on his finger to stop his depraved moaning. “Ff-forgive me, my good-demon-sir, but I swear I’m not trespassing. I’m a humble worker here at this museum.”

He quickly took out his employee badge to offer it up to the demon who barely gave it a glance. “Gargoyle,” it said in reply.

“Oh. I’m sorry but I don’t really know what you mean by that.” Wait, why did he say that? He didn’t want to get further in the demon’s bad side than he already was! “I mean no offense, of course. I’m sure gargoyles are absolutely lovely—”

“No,” he interrupted, his face smoothed out into blank slate. It made it harder to read him but Shang Qinghua quickly decided that it was alright. “I am a gargoyle, human. You may address me as Mobei Jun.”

Ohhh. Now that he mentioned it, his wings and horns could belong to a gargoyle. He knew that they were popular parts historical buildings that had a strong Western influence, which the museum did.

“And I am a king. Not a sir.”

Curse his authority kink. He was sure that any new fantasies he conjured up would be staring this particular king and Shang Qinghua as his servant.

“Of course, my king! You’re reeking of kingly handsomeness. As a lowly human, my apologies for the obvious mistake.” The gargoyle king didn’t make any move to acknowledge his words other than a slow blink, so he figured that it was all good. “Excuse me if this sounds rude, but what are you doing up here? And what was all the noise about?”

“Guardian. I was charged with the safety of this place by a war lord.” Jeez. So he’d been with the building for centuries at least, maybe even millennia.

There was a pause and he realized that he wasn’t going to answer the second question. It also seemed like the gargoyle king was waiting on him and a light bulb went off. “S-sorry again my king. I am Shang Qinghua. I am in charge of the rare artifacts inside of the building, so you may see me closing up most nights.”

The gargoyle king nodded sagely and he figured that the role must be acceptable to him. A loud sigh left him and his muscles relaxed just in the slightest way. He might survive this encounter yet. Ever better, survive and be able to go home and break out that new bottle of lube that he bought last week. There was plenty of new material to work with, that was for sure.

Then the gargoyle stepped back, giving him more space, which was actually the opposite of what he wanted. Feel free to punish him for earlier transgressions, king, especially if they were rough in a sexy way!

Unaware of his inner pleadings, he continued walking away to crouch back near the edge of the roof.

“Umm, be careful, king. It’s dangerous to be that close—”

“I am a king. Concerns such as that are not applicable,” he said, puffing up his chest. Those pecs! He might have to put in a request tomorrow to do more work on the roof. It was a crime that no one was admiring that body on a regular basis. “Leave. Return home. The circles under your eyes are hideous.”

He gasped, touching his bags. Rude! He had just finished a long shift and definitely wasn’t at his best. He was going to have to step up his game if he was going to tempt this gargoyle in the future. Trying his best not to show embarrassment, or disappointment, he agreed to leave.

“Whatever you want, my king. I’ll leave for now but if you need anything, I’ll be back tomorrow and the day after as well. In fact, every night, in case you need me.” Screw his weekend off. Who needed one of those when there was a hot gargoyle of legend serving as the guardian of the museum. Not him, that’s who.

He scrambled to his feet and bowed again for good measure. The door was open and he was across the threshold when his dream gargoyle muttered something. “Did you say something, my king?”

He cleared his throat and spoke gruffly. “The pigeons pooped in my hair.”

Suddenly, the growling from earlier made sense. No matter if you were human or gargoyle, having birds shit in your hair, especially hair as luscious as Mobei Jun’s, was bound to make anyone furious.

Determined to keep his laughs to himself if it was the last thing he did, he merely replied, “Yes, my king. I will make sure to chase them away from you next time.”

“See that you do.”

On cloud nine, Shang Qinghua grinned as he bounded down the stairwell. The gargoyle’s comment implied that there would be a next time. And he intended to romance the loincloth off (literally) of the serious gargoyle king.

Hope you all enjoyed! So happy to share this with everyone. Thanks for reading :)