#it's literally just a body. nothing showing. nothing inappropriate. I just wanted to draw some soft curves LOL

[hollowsart]

sometimes you just gotta take a sanity break and draw a thick body and soft curves and folds and rolls. y'know?

Anyways, here's some random lady body I whipped up real quick lol please be normal about this, I am begging you.

[kirieshhhka003]

begs you for kakyoin smut with hierophant green 😫

A/n: I’m kinda worried bc I’m sure I’ve seen a plot line very familiar to the one in this writing on some other writing blog, but unfortunately I can’t find it to ask a writer if that’s okay to use it. But anyways, I hope if they see that they’ll forgive me🙏🏻. I’m in LOVE with the idea of Kak being a nasty lil perv, so here I am

Pairing: Kakyoin Noriaki x fem! Reader x Hierophant Green

Warnings: NSFW, inappropriate use of stand, tentacle sex, public sex, school sex, overstimulation, language

Another deep sigh, full of despondency and utter boredom, leaves your lungs. You’re already tired from drawing ridiculous and meaningless doodles in your copybook and now you just sit there and stare at the space in front of you. God, it’s been barely ten minutes since math lesson had started and you’re already feeling bored as hell! You fidget in your seat, feeling your butt sore slightly because of the hardness of the flat wooden stool - why the fuck all school furniture is always so damn uncomfortable?!

You look around, watching curiously how your classmates write something hastily down in their copybooks from the blackboard. At this point it looks like you’re the only one who has nothing to do. Even Jotaro, school’s number one diligent who’s never showed any interest in school, scribbles something enthusiastically in his notebook

Your eyes roll back in annoyance (you don’t know what irritates you - your boredom or the fact that you don’t even try to listen to your teacher) and you start bouncing your leg back and forth, accidentally hitting your classmate’s stool in front of you, whispering an apology and smiling guiltily when they look at you angrily over their shoulder

You crash on the back of your stool, closing your eyes and sighing again. 33 more minutes! You stay like this for some time, mind pondering of something great and unfathomable and teacher’s humdrum voice seems to only deepen your trance. You jump in your seat, by some miracle holding back a scream, when you feel something wrapping around your ankle. You look down and notice an extremely familiar green shiny ribbon gently seizing up around your leg

- The fuck, Noriaki? - you hiss quietly, glancing at your classmate who sits right behind you

- What? - red-haired replies, like if he has no idea what you’re talking about

- You scared me! What happened? Do you need something? - you ask, trying not to be too obvious or loud so teacher won’t kick you out of the classroom. Kakyoin shrugs his shoulders faintly, not tearing his eyes off his notebook. You feel goosebumps rising on your skin as you feel Hierophant Green slowly sliding up your shin and you must admit - that kinda feels good

- You look bored so I thought that Hierophant can help you a little. He wants to play with you, - Kakyoin utters quietly, he’s still concentrated on teacher’s explanations (at least he looks so), his lavender eyes run up to the blackboard with numerous formulas and then back to his neat abstract

You look few more second on boy’s handsome features and then shrug in a sign “do whatever you want”. You turn your head back to the teacher and your eyes literally glue to his colorful tie you didn’t notice earlier. How can someone wear such a ridiculously stupid thing to work?

You feel another Hierophant’s “tentacle” wrapping around your free ankle, while the first one slides further, making its way up to your body. You sit still, not intending on doing anything, curious what stand’s next actions will be. Your eyes follow shiny green ribbon that is now reaching you knee and doesn’t seem to stop there for long. And yes, you were right - it keeps on moving closer to you. The tentacle slides to the middle of your thigh, passing the elastic of your school stockings, and now when it’s pressed against your bare skin you can feel how smooth it feels

Wait, where is it going? Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at the sight of Hierophant’s tentacle sliding under the hem of your skirt, sharp tip grazing the elastic of your underwear. You’re about to turn around and ask Kakyoin what the hell is going on when you feel another green ribbon wrapping around your lower body and tying you to the back of your stool. Next moment your ankles are firmly tied to the legs of that same stool. Your whole body tensed up and you’re about to summon your own stand, but Noriaki’s soft whisper stops you from doing so:

- Hey, what’s that? Don’t pretend you don’t like it. I know what a filthy little slut you are. Can bet you’re already all wet down there. Hm, am I wrong? - boy asks mockingly and the next moment you feel Hierophant’s ribbon sliding across your clothed sex, implying just a little more pressure on the area where your clit is. You flinch, nibbling down on your lower lip. - Of course I am not. So stop putting on the show and make sure to be as quiet as possible

You can’t see it, but by the playful tune in red-haired’s voice you can bet this bastard is smiling. You fidget slightly, feeing pleasant pressure in those places where Hierophant is wrapped around you. You feel your cheeks and tips of ears practically burning; holy fuck, it’s so humiliating to admit that, but you got so fucking turned on by this whole situation. You’re a teenager, hormones think instead of your brain, and light caresses of stand’s tentacles really made you going. But you are in the middle of the classroom, where all the classmates can’t see, but can hear you

You swallow heavily, splaying your trembling knees wider, giving ‘Noriaki’ more space for manipulations. You hear him scoff smugly, and you feel your cheeks getting even hotter. Hierophant’s tentacle that was previously playing with the elastic of your panties now slides under the soft fabric of your bottoms, parting your folds in a one slow move, spreading your slick all over them. You take a deep breath in, then exhaling slowly, trying your best to keep your expression calm so that teacher doesn’t suspect anything

Your fists clench as that tentacle goes down your slit, pointy tip plays with your entrance, softly pressing on it but not enough to penetrate inside. You roll your eyes back into your head as you feel another ribbon getting under your underwear, playing with your swollen clit, tightly rubbing against it. The impact makes you drip even more, you arch your back slightly, humming contentedly when the first tentacle finally slips inside of your drooling pussy, carefully massaging your inner walls

Shudder runs through your body as you feel a cool tendril getting under your shirt on the back and teasingly slowly going up to your chest, getting under your bra and swirling around your erected nipple, squeezing and tugging on the sensitive dark bead. You bite the inner side of your cheek, trying to remain quiet, but you can’t help a small whimper escaping your lips

- Be quiet. You don’t wanna Jotaro to see what we are doing here, right? - you hear Kakyoin whispering behind you. Your eyes widen and you freeze for a few seconds. How could you forget? Yes, your classmates don’t have stands so they can’t see what you two are doing, but Kujo? God, it would be such a shame if he catches the two of you like that, doing filthy things like that in the middle of a classroom full of people!

You glance at Jotaro sitting in the back of the classroom, his eyes are still glued to his notebook as he keeps on writing something. You’re starting to get curious - what the hell is he doing there? But all your thoughts are quickly washed away as you feel Hierophant pushing further into you, penetrating so deep that the tip of its tentacle mushes against your cervix

Your thighs start trembling and all your senses go wild; you get stimulated so well, every sweet spot of your body isn’t left without attention - your pussy is stuffed full with Kakyoin’s stand as its numerous tentacles play with your clit and nipples. You unconsciously open your knees even wider, faintly rolling your hips forward, trying to impale yourself on Hierophant even more

You feel your heart racing in your chest as if it tries to break through your ribs. Sudden thought crosses your mind - Noriaki surely feels everything. But his stand is disassembled into small ribbons now, where exactly does boy has you? If it’s his stand’s cock inside of you, does that mean that you’re having sex right now? That little nasty pervert must be enjoying himself then

You turn your head to the side as much as your current position allows and gaze over your shoulder - light pink dusts Noriaki’s face, his breathing is heavy and you notice a small shiny bead of sweat running down his temple. Yes, that’s definitely his dick inside of you. Your eyes meet and corners of his mouth rise in a mischievous leer, red-haired winks at you and you clench your teeth at that - that fucker doesn’t even try to hide that he pokes fun at you

You decide to pay him back and promptly clench your pussy around Hierophant’s tentacle inside of you, and you don’t miss the way Kakyoin gulps behind you. Happy with yourself you relax in stand’s firm shackles, letting it please your needy dripping cunny

Hierophant’s tentacle starts moving inside, the mutable pace drives you crazy. Now he barely moves, lazily dragging green ribbon in and out of your hot clutch, and the next moment he’s fucking into you on the speed that is almost inhuman, mercilessly pounding your pussy. You can barely hold back all loud moans and cries of pleasure, your eyes start to water as Hierophant hits your g-spot with every new thrust

Stars fill your vision, Kakyoin’s stand caresses your body so fucking good - slim green ribbons ably play with your nipples, tugging on them to the point of overstimulation. You squeal quietly as Hierophant flickers the tip of its tentacle over your erected clit, what together with all deep thrusts sends you right into heaven

Noriaki sees that you’re close to your release, and his inner devil says to tease you a little, to bring you right to the edge and then take everything away, turning you into a brainless little whore that’d beg to fuck her right in front of all class. The image of it makes Kakyoin’s dick twitch painfully in his pants. Unfortunately, there are 6 minutes left before the lesson ends and he definitely doesn’t like the idea of walking around with a boner, so Y/n may consider herself lucky

Red-haired fastens the pace on which his stand fucks you, the feeling of your velvety walls clamping on his dick makes Noriaki roll his eyes in pleasure. Boy buries his face in his palms, exhaling sharply, as he chases his own high inside of your slicked pussy. Fuck, you feel so incredibly good

Hierophant’s thrust become sloppier and harsher as he fucks vigorously into your pliant pussy. You bite on your lip eagerly, trying your best to muffle and silent every smallest sound that tries coming from your chest. Your orgasm finally ruptures, pure ecstasy runs through your veins, filling every smallest cell of your body with pleasure. Your high crashes over you like a tsunami, washing away every thought and worry you had

Noriaki follows immediately after you, his hips lurch as he spurts heavy loads of his pearly cum right into his underwear. His orgasm rips through his body like and electric shock; pleasure your sweet pussy brings him is so intense that it blurs boy’s vision for a few second

You feel Hierophant loosening its grip on you, soon fully disappearing. You just crash on top your desk, panting heavily, face is flushed and covered with thin coat of shiny sweat, a few strings of hair cling to your cheek. You hear Kakyoin clearing his throat and the next moment school bell tolls, shrill sound cuts through the space, bringing slight headache

You wrinkle your nose in displease, your eyelids feel so incredibly heavy, it feels like you’re going to pass out this exact moment. You feel a big warm palm laying on your back, caressing it slightly. Young man’s voice that comes from right next to you claims:

- Teacher, Y/n doesn’t feel so good, I think I should accompany her to her house, - oh, this cunning bastard. You open one eye, looking up at your friend(?) standing just in a few centimeters away from you. Red-haired looks down at you, smiling so sweetly, as you hear your teacher saying:

- Oh, it’d be so nice of you! I saw how red Y/n’s face was, I think she has a fever. Make sure you both get home safe, I rely on you!

- Yes, sure thing! - Noriaki replies and then his lavender eyes go back to you. His hand comes up from your back to your head, patting it tenderly. - I’ll help you pack your stuff

Well, your pussy’s definitely getting wrecked today

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

[bemylord]

↠ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴄʀᴀᴛᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴅʏ ↞

characters: gojo, sukuna, itadori, megumi, nanami, toji x fem!reader.

warnings: smut, aged up, marks/bruises, creampie, daddy kink [toji and nanami], oral [fem!receiving], degrade and praise kinks, grammar errors.

a/c: or s/o gave them scratches on their body. hc + drabble. kento's, toji's, and sukuna's part might be rough. also i may used inappropriate word don't blame me.

ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ:

would be teasing you in the morning for being too horny to suppress your nails. although, he doesn't hide the fact he adores the little pain when his clothes touch places where you left stripes.

also likes those moments when you're leaving fingernail marks on his thighs or hips whilst sucking his dick. it'd be better spelled if i specify that gojo using your head as a toy for his pleasure.

would praise you for marks you've given him, labeling his muscular body as yours, letting your fingers traveling all over his back to the chest, outlining every muscle.

prefers to do it slow but deep, touching the spongy coil inside you with his every push, feeling your hands on the back as you're trying to take his dick, being capable of not losing your mushy mind at his sharp pushes as how he's overbearingly fucking you.

'giving me all your juices and marks you've gotten for your master' satoru might be playful during the training time, but you've known he likes to talk dirty and be dominant railing you. those marks perfectly suiting on his skin so why not leave them?

despite being overdose with your cum and a facial expression - you opened your mouth releasing ragged whimpers and arching your back, approaching towards gojo's chest in the climax, cumming all over the base - he'd thrust in you more 'till you'd turn into the drooling mess below.

'yes, honey, you're doing good, so good. constricting my dick so good' obscene squelches become louder, as you could feel satoru's released on your stomach. 'you did so well, honey, i'm gonna take good care of you'

ɪᴛᴀᴅᴏʀɪ ʏᴜᴊɪ:

okay, i think itadori would be the softest boy through all monsters we've got here.

but don't let his innocent face trick you. despite of the fact that most of the time he's a soft bun, he'll make you scream.

ok, make you scream and be asking if he isn't tempestuous.

he'd be disconcerted if you asked him to heal his back. for what? he thinks is a sort of a recall so he could remember what the two of you had been doing in the night and how loud you were while giving him your residue of cum.

he might take some photos of his skin pattern in marks so he could ogle at 'em later, repeating seconds where you were patterning his back.

'take off your shirt, yuji. i'll heal your back'

poor itadori is sitting on the couch totally discouraged as he heard your request. he glanced at you with a bambi look: eyes wide open, as if you said something vulgar. he aimlessly rubbed the back of his head, tossed his head back.

'but i like your marks, baby'

he whined, grabbing your palms in his, forcing you to sit on his lap, wrapping arms around your waist.

'you gave those stripes because you.. you were feeling good, yeah?'

you put your head down at his question but nodded, putting your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat.

'then i don't need your recovery, baby, let your marks stay until you'll add new ones'

ᴛᴏᴊɪ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ:

let people know what sex is. let it be a slogan for your intercourse.

he could fuck you all night due to his long-term capability and would be smug after intercourse as he'd watch the disorder [?] you did on his biceps.

mostly biceps, cause a man knows the main destination of his tongue, masterfully giving you an oral. goddamn that tongue.

he'd let you scratch his back as he'll know that it'd be possibility to show off the mark his love gave him. on other days, you're pulling his hair into your pussy, burying him even more, letting him to destroy you before the fun will start.

his arms full of red stripes. though it wasn't your fault - how can you inhibit yourself while toji is literally eating you like a meal?

'being waiting for my tongue, huh?' he's a teaser - you're at the edge of the bed, baring your dripping pussy to the one he can lick you as you need to whilst teasing and degrading you.

'being waiting to be demolished by me you little whore, don't you?'

you grabbed his strong biceps, dotted them in half-moons then squeeze as toji peeks at you.

'answer me, slut!'

his low voice makes you open widely your legs as not closed to squeeze his head. he's running his tongue on your crotch and labia, teasing you, forcing you to say how reckless and anguished you were without his tongue and fingers.

'yes, daddy, i-i've been waiting f-for you' you sharply breathe, letting out the whimpers, feeling his tongue playing with your swollen clit.

'i'm about to ruin you tonight, are you ready?' he giggled once more, getting into the little game he's been waiting for since he left the house.

ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ:

it is in their genetic code to make a woman scream but since megumi hasn't got a huge sexual experience as his father does, he'd be tender at first, asking abt your well-being, if he can move, etc..

when he watches at the mirror in the morning, he finds out his back and a few shoulders are drawing by your nails.

he'd be overwhelmed and speechless as he saw a reminder of the night.

'gumi will make up an excuse, sort of: 'i got into the fight with a curse, nothing special'. itadori'd have been asking him if he's okay, how it was but satoru isn't a naive one.

deep inside would be proud of himself that only he could put you on the pleasure, privately enjoying those patterns.

'y/n?' he pronounced your name in a question way, rubbing his shoulder aimlessly, as you glanced at him. you let out a quiet mooing as a response, staring as to how megumi taking off his school uniform.

'would you mind heal me a little?'

you smiled, coming closer to your boyfriend, grabbing a tube of medicine on the way.

'don't think i don't like your.. marks, just-'

'don't apologize, 'gumi, it's kinda chaos on your back' you giggled at your comparison, running with medicine on red stripes. his tensed and muscular body is overwhelming: those abs and pretty strong arms conquering every time you've got an opportunity to ogle.

'tho i love the chaos you made'

ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ:

i'm certain you'll be scratching his back because nanami is packing - big dick energy, lol.

screaming his name as you've been drawing illegible patterns, mostly on his wide back, so lately he'd smirk at his reflection in the mirror.

those nights when you're trying to fill the lack patterns on his back by drawing lots of geometrical figures or promiscuous tracery.

every move with his tight white shirt at the office makes his stoic face change as he reminisces the night you gave that pleasant pain.

he wants to find half-moons littering his biceps as you were holding 'em while giving creampie on his dick.

if you want it spicy - trail your fingers on his back suddenly, giving nanami little goosebumps to switch his mood.

'darling, you want me to stop?' he unaware question left you desperate as nanami stopped pumping, left a soft kiss on your forehead. 'am i fucking you way too hard?' seldom moment of nanami being tender as he gets used to fuck recklessly 'till you'll be a dripping mess under his cock.

you didn't see fit to answer the question but smack your lips against his, as a silent response named: 'i'm fine, my love, you can move' your wet, deep, and in some way subtle kiss that doesn't fit on the action you've been doing. you trail your nails from the back of his neck to the coccyx, ogling as to how his facial expression changes.

'you want to be used like a slut you are, don't you?'

you couldn't respond, only purr as how nanami suddenly turned on into daddy. feeling how your empty pussy being filled out with a thick kento's cock again as he's making a demolishing [?] pushes.

'get what you want, slut, scratch my back so it'd dotted lately with your nails'

ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ ʀʏᴏᴍᴇɴ:

as for that rough man..

he gives hickeys - you give him patterns on his back.

he'd be exceedingly obsessed after had seen your marks on itadori's body. still, itadori is a vessel for him, so sukuna will be even more self-satisfied. why? a little reminder for the owner who took possession of your body at the night.

once he'll take possession of the body, itadori it'd be or someone else, he won't stop himself as long as his back will be patterns of yours nail on it.

he does literally everything to make you scratch his back, whether it be licking your swollen clit to the way your legs got shaken or fuck you on his lap.

'let the bastard see what matures did it the night' his pace increase as he uttered the phrase that makes the butterflies in your belly thrives off.

his lowly and husky voice intermingled with ragged breathing, little drops of sweat on his hairline as he crushes devastating punches, letting your moans out of your mouth.

you're digging into his skin on the back as he masterfully target into the spongy coil in your stomach, feeling as your orgasm is building up with his every hit. he wants to see his back littering in patterns of your nails, wants to have that sweet but stinging pain in the morning.

's-sukuna, ugh~' you let out a whimper as your cunt constricting creampie on his dick. he chuckled as your hole clenching his thick cock while nails trailing all over back.

//~~//

idk i start always from sukuna and i've got inspiration only on kento's part, that's why nanami and toji might be rough than a king.

[vicious-vixxxen]

Tenya Iida X Male Reader: 7 Minutes in Heaven

Been working on this for a minute, thought it was about time I showed this boy some love! Hope you guys enjoy :3  ((Totally SFW, but things do get a wee bit steamy. Enjoy ;3))

“Unbelievable! The level of unprofessionalism from class 1A no less! This is a highly inappropriate way to be spending our free time! It should be spent honing our abilities to their greatest potential, and encouraging each other to bl-“  “Iida...Iida please for the love of god /stop/.” Snatching one of the other boys chopping hands by the wrist, your free hand settled on Iida’s chest to pat gently. “For someone who didn’t put up much of a fight getting tossed in here, you sure won’t shut up about it.” You mused, smirk evident in your tone

Despite the closet being too dark to tell; the only light the thin, dim strips around the doorframe- one of which caught the corner of Tenya’s glasses, and reflected back on the boys flushed cheek. Whether they were like that because of the intensity of his ramblings, or the situation at hand, was still yet to be determined.  “I beg your pardon?” Iida nearly gasped, and you snorted despite yourself. Keeping your hold on the larger boys wrist firm, even as he tried to continue his chopping motion out of it. “I assumed my protests would be considered before they’d have a chance to get us in here, and despite our combined abilities to escape, the rules of the game are very clear and seeing as how we’re here now I don’t see the point in not participating. As class 1A’s representative it’s imperative I encourage the other students to socialize and become a more cohesive unit. Even if it means doing ridiculous things like this, DESPITE protest.”

You’d almost, /almost/ landed on Kaminari. Who had you hurt in a past life to deserve this?

“So you’re unwilling to participate because you’re too busy scolding the other participants for wanting to participate. In a game in which you deem inappropriate, but will still abide by it’s rules. While the same time doing anything but. Did I get that right?” You asked, even unsure yourself.

“Well, I-“ “Is it cuz I’m a dude?” You asked suddenly, genuinely curious. Tenya balked. “O-of course not!” No further elaboration. You smiled. Now you were getting somewhere.

“Then I believe we have about five more minutes for you to get with the program Iida.” Finally letting his wrist go, you brought your hand down towards your face. Checking the watch you didn’t have intently, hoping he could see, for effect if anything, before bringing your hand down to rest on Iida’s hip gently. Snickering at how stiff his stance was, as he tensed impossibly tighter. “It’s just kissing,” You reminded him quietly, squinting in the dark to catch the blush high on his cheeks deepen. Iida was significantly taller than you, but he was acutely conscious of the fact. Shifting his knees, and hunching over slightly to bring himself in closer. More on reflex than anything. Until now he hadn’t quite realized he was primed for the taking, so to speak, and attempted to shift back, but finding the wall just as unyielding to his back as it had been when you’d entered together. A sweat broke out across his forehead, and Tenya began to take the most soft, shallow breaths of his entire life. “You have kissed someone before...haven’t you Iida?” You asked, usual playfulness gone, as you slowly started to piece together the sudden intensity behind Tenya’s protests of the game from the very beginning.  “Kissing...not that it is any of your business, I was under the impression was to be saved for someone you cared a great deal about. Someone special. Not a fellow classmate in a musty closet in our dorms!” Iida hissed, but there was no real heat behind it. Mostly..nerves. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” You asked, curious as to the others mind. Iida may not have cracked your top three since arriving at UA, friend wise, but he was a good guy, with a heart of gold, and a powerful personality. If not always the most easily digested. Point is, he was good. And sweet. And handsome. And you, as were your fellow classmates when the idea of drawing names for 7 minutes in heaven arose, were really in the mood to kiss /someone/. And Tenya made a good partner If he’d just be a little quieter. That’s all. “Well yes, but-“  “And you care about me?” You interrupted, smiling at the grunt of frustration the taller boy let out. A puff of hot breath ghosting across your cheeks from above, sending goosebumps down the back of your neck. Minty. And warm. Perfect, actually.  “Of course! But that’s hardly-“ “So what’s the deal? Loosen your tie a bit and just kiss me, jet boy. Plenty of time in the future to give the most special kisses to the most special people. Right now...how about starting with giving me just one?”

Your voice was quiet as you slid your hand up from Iida’s waist to his chest to join your other, a barely whispered ‘please’ in the dark. Iida stared down at you, his own hands twitching, before they came up to meet yours. He’d had every intention of removing them, setting them back at your own sides, but when you’d gripped his shirt, and leaned up on your toes to brush your nose along his jaw, he’d frozen. Gripping your wrists tightly, just hanging on really. “Mm...you smell nice.” Leave it to Tenya to casually wear the most expensive, mouth watering cologne to a dorm sleepover. Who was he, a Giorgio Armani sponsor! Sheesh.  “...thank you,” Tenya gasped finally, as you nipped at his chin- barking out a laugh, so loose and carefree, Tenya couldn’t help the way his shoulders dropped minutely in response. Maybe...maybe.

“Alright then.” Iida agreed. Stealing himself for the inevitable, though he’d be lying if he said the beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead weren’t because of how soft the plushness of your lips felt trailing up towards his own bitten ones. He’d never quite considered something like this happening to him, at school of all places. Tenya had a firm idea of what he’d come to UA to do, how he’d accomplish it, and how he’d feel after achieving all his goals. Going pro. There really was no time for any straying from that.  Bakugou, for instance, for all the glaring faults Tenya found in his personality, was admirable in that at least he had a similar mindset, albeit a more extremist one...goal oriented to the max. And Tenya did admire it, strived for something similar. He’d never quite struck gold when it came to friends before UA, maybe because they’d never quite understood why he worked so hard to get to the next step, and the next step. But here, his classmates understood the importance of their classes. Their position. ...well, most of them did. And yet here he was now, backed into a literal corner, clammy hands holding tight to y/n’s wrists as the smaller boy continued to whisper random nonsense against Tenya’s chin- his cheek. All because he wanted to appeal more to his peers. Figures. Not that he was complaining. Not anymore, at least. “Ready?” You asked, nerves nearly getting the best of you now too as you focused in on the glint of light in Iida’s glasses again- frowning briefly, and nudging the boys chin with yours to get him to move just enough for the light to reflect in the deep pool of blue that was his eye. Sparkling, and searching. You’d expect nothing less from the class rep. God, he was handsome.. “As I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Tenya whispered, meaning for it to come out more sure, and failing miserably. You were already keyed up enough to be crowned the king of sexual frustration, so you wasted no time in letting out a soft ‘hm’ of confirmation, before leaning in and sealing your lips fully over Iida’s. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined just how plush his lips would actually feel. Sure it was something you’d fantasized about with /most/ of the guys in class, but Iida especially. He had great lips. And fuck, they felt nice against yours. Not too soft, not too rough. Plush, like a pillow. Fuck, you wanted to bite them. To tug on his lower lip till he mewled into your mouth. Shit.

Moving your hands tentatively at first, as they were still being held firm by Iida. you slid them up and over his shoulders, hesitating briefly before allowing them to slide further up to cup the boy on either side of his neck. Squeezing there briefly as you pulled away.  “This okay?” You asked, thumbs brushing over Iida’s jaw, words whispered against his lips, you were still they close. “...y-yes, yes that’s alright.” He was too quiet to be sure, but something told you Iida was coming undone at a rapid pace.  “Would another be alright then? We don’t have to, I don’t want you to-mph!-“ and Iida’s lips were back on yours. More insistent, more sure. Firm and soft and you moaned, quietly, still conscious of your classmates on the other side of the door, but just barely.  “Sorry...sorry, I...I’m so sorry, y/n,” Iida huffed, grip just as tight on your wrists as before as he broke away suddenly, guilt wracking his system immediately as he intended to pull away, because what the hell was that?! He’d just-

“No, Iida, please...come on, don’t do me like that, I want it. More...come on,” you pleaded, breathless and giddy at how he’d taken control. On the one hand, of course he would. But on the other, this was /kissing/, and it was /Iida/. What even? Iida’s lips parted in a soft ‘o’, body flushing with heat at how your pleas seemed to effect him. “Okay.” Clearing his throat, his words coming out too husky for his own liking, Iida finally, FINALLY, moved his own hands. Thinking suddenly of movies, and how people kissed there. He could do that. Iida’s hands were on your hips then, gentle, yet sure. Cupping there, finding his footing. Iida finally seemed comfortable leaving one against your hip, the other flat against the small of your back to bring you in close. Whoa. Hadhis hands always felt so big?

Shit.

“Move your lips how I move mine,” you instructed, breath ghosting the shell of Iida’s ear, and you bit your lip gently when Iida nodded. Eager. Fuck.  And you were kissing again. More urgent this time, a few presses of lips, before you began to move. The quiet of the closet being broken by the rustling of your clothes, the slick sound of your lips, and both of your needy breaths. Iida was a skilled learner, and it was almost scary how that transferred over to kissing. Pausing when you move your lips against his in a certain way. Savoring it, before applying it back to you. “It’s concerning how good you are at this,” you laughed softly against his lips, Iida rewarding you with a little breath of a huff in return as his grip on your hip tightened, and he sealed your lips once again. Urgent. Needy.

You could relate. Soon enough you found one arm curled around Iida’s neck, your other hand holding firm to the crop of hair on his head as he kissed you. A shift in stance caused his hand to drop to the outside of your thigh, and on instinct, you’d lifted your leg to Iida’s hip,

Iida hadn’t even hesitated to grip your thigh and hike your leg up higher, bringing your middles closer together, and what? What the fuck? Since when did he know how to do that?! “Shit,” you hissed, overwhelmed by how turned on you were. It was embarrassing, but so good.

“Language,” Iida whispered, not missing a beat, pushing his head up into your hand briefly, encouraging, before kissing you /again/.

Jesus, he was good. It was kind of ridiculous how so. “Ah,” you cried before you could stop yourself, when Iida’s grip on your thigh shifted and tightened, palm held firm over the sensitive underside, and you had to stop. Lips sliding from Iida’s, along his cheek, and down into the crook is his neck. “Are...are you alright?” Iida panted, trying to pull back to look at you- as best he could in the dark- but you held tight to his hair, keeping him in place, as you caught your breath. ‘Look at me’ you thought, nodding your head against Iida’s shoulder, ‘coming apart like a fucking virgin!’ Which, you were...kind of, the specifics of previous encounters were still vaguely juvenile enough for you not to count them

“Just...,” pausing, you took a breath. Blowing it out through your nose, and closing your eyes as you began to litter Iida’s neck with kisses. “-sensitive, down there, is all. But it’s good. Very good.”

Iida was too quiet, tense all of the sudden for an entirely different reason, and you were all too aware of where his brain was probably going. “My /thigh/, Iida, your holding my thigh like you’re about to pitch a softball, and it feels really nice- just caught me off guard, is all.”

Patting him on the head, you evened out your breathing finally, just being for a few long moments, as Iida stood still. “...this is much more-ah...much more than I’d imagine it being.” Iida spoke softly, fingers playing nervously against the back of your thigh. “How incredibly vague,” you teased, giggling quietly, before the both of you were a fit of laughter. Iida’s deep, boisterous sound like music to your ears. Had he ever laughed like that in front of you before?

You vowed to make it happen more often, in any case. “You know what I mean,” he added finally, allowing your leg to slip from his grasp, bringing both hands back to your hips to squeeze gently. Tentatively. Your breath faltered briefly, imagining suddenly getting to feel this again. Whenever you wanted. What an idea. Your face was too hot then, even more so than before, and you hoped Iida couldn’t sense it as you pressed even deeper into his neck. Scratching idly through his hair, fingers skirting across the seam of his undercut.  “If you applied this kind of enthusiasm into your studies, you wouldn’t be scrambling to study with Kaminari last minute, you know.” Iida added simply.  “Excuse you?!” You shouted, no heat behind it as you reeled back, staring at the general area of Iida’s head in faux shock.

“If Midoriya and Uraraka didn’t steal you away all the time, /maybe/ I’d have asked you to study with me at some point. Once you and Yaomomo are busy the pickings are slim, you know. Kiri asked me to join he and Bakugou once...but hard pass, as I don’t particularly like being slammed over the head by our textbooks.” Iida stilled briefly, before sighing and nodding his head dejectedly.  “His methods are almost cruel, yet his results are unquestionable. Kirishima has been doing much better lately. At the cost of his physical and mental health though, which in the long run could have some serious long lasting effects.”

“Oh my mental health is constantly on the verge anyways, so that would be fine.” You joked, snickering as you were pulled back rather harshly, for Iida to get a good look at you no doubt.

Good luck with that in the dark, pal, you thought.  “Kidding, kidding. Kind of. Anyways, point is, if you’d make yourself more available to other students, maybe I’d pick your brain about the homework sometime.”

“I...suppose I have grown comfortable with my own study group- and as class rep it’s imperative I take initiative to make sure each one of us is reaching their full potential, whether it be studying, or during combat.” Iida mumbled. If his hands hadn’t been firm on your hips, you swore they’d be chopping the air around your head. “I don’t need as much oversee as Kaminari. I apply myself when it counts, so if you could spare even an hour or two on the weekend to answer some of my more pressing questions it would be a big help,” you explained, awkwardly untangling yourself from Iida as you cleared your throat. The mood not entirely broken, but you couldn’t very well sit in here and make out with Iida all night.

 Unfortunately. “Of course! Your room is right down the hall from mine after all, it’ll be easy to navigate and configure the perfect time to study. We-“ he paused, hands up in the air somewhere, you could hear the whooshing. “I don’t care much for movies, and the others will be thoroughly entertained enough with this game after us anyhow, if you’d like to go back to my room and set up a study plan?” He offered, and you couldn’t help the way your heart thumped madly once more at the offer. They’d decided on one of your favorite movies tonight, and you’d promised Kami a running commentary.

Oh well, “Let me fix your hair, and you’ve got a deal. Last thing you need is everyone thinking I defiled you in here.”

Pulling your phone from your pocket, and face the screen straight up, you unlocked it- the bright light from the screen illuminating the closet just enough to see. Snorting, you took in Iida’s fluffed up hair, sticking up at odd angles, vaguely reminiscent of Midoriya’s.

“A willing defilement , I suppose, but a defilement nonetheless if we’re being technical,” Iida supplied quietly, as you fussed over his hair. “Willing indeed, you lug. Who would have guessed the class rep would get so /handsy/.” You teased, smiling brightly at the wide eyed expression Iida supplied in return. “And don’t apologize, I...I haven’t kissed many people, but that was definitely the best kiss of my entire life. Something to be proud of. I guess..” You tried to sound nonplussed, but given the new light, it wasn’t hard for Iida to see your blush. “I’ve never kissed anyone, but I can’t imagine it gets better than that,” Iida offered quietly, blush high on his cheeks to match yours.

You both paused, Iida staring down at you, you up at him. Your hands back on either side of his neck, hair as good as it was going to get. ‘Maybe we could do it again sometime’ the little voice in your mind screamed, but the last thing you wanted to do was push Iida. This was just a one time thing. But hey, maybe it meant being closer friends...which was even better, if you were honest with yourself. “We should uh...get going. Out there. The sooner we retreat back to your room, the better. They’ll be hounding as soon as he step out.” Sliding your hands down Iida’s broad chest, you patted twice there just for effect, before snatching up your phone. Steeling yourself for the hoots and hollers, and nagging questions everyone before you had endured. An eye roll all prepped as you stepped out of the closet, missing the way Iida stared after you, if only briefly. Brushing off the wish of you, with your loud personality, and lack of filter, to offer up more of something he couldn’t bring himself to ask for. He couldn’t find the words. He’d hoped you could. Or would. But that was alright. Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, and the lingering scent of your own cologne faded from Iida’s room, he’d still have the memory of your lips on his. Your voice, soft and needy in his ear. Your thigh heavy, and hot in his palm.  Yeah...that would do. For now, at least.

[elliehase-blog]

It’s typical for me to set up a story or drabbles around my drawings, but I’m not always confident enough to share them with you due to my lack of knowledge in the English grammar.  This is a foreign language for me, therefore I still make a lot of mistakes and not noticing them.

For this redrawing of Crawly I wrote a little prelude for my story “Don’t Stop Me Now” on AO3. I have finished two new chapters already, but unfortunately my friend (who has corrected my stories in the past) is too busy with her work. If there’s anyone out there, who enjoys to proofread stories, please contact me! 

Prelude

It was lo-... something at first sight.

The angel of the Eastern Gate stood atop Eden’s outer wall, facing the deserted land with a concerned glance. His wavy fair hair reflected the setting sun, some soft rays gently embraced his contours. Gray clouds were piling over the garden. With his white robe and the dark atmosphere forming around him, he looked bright and shining like a star in the night sky.

He was the most fascinating thing Crawly had ever seen.

And Crawly had seen a lot of things in his immortal existence. In the old days he had been an angel himself, a builder of blazing stars and astonishing constellations. But none of his creations ever radiated in such a wonderful warm glow, giving him satisfaction and ease at once. There was something magical about the other man, which is why Crawly couldn't avert his gaze.

Strictly speaking, Crawly didn’t cross a line here. He wasn’t in close contact with the angel, staying at the apple tree most of the time, fulfilling his demonic duty. No one ever said he couldn’t sneak away occasionally and admire his new encounter from afar, though. Nothing wrong in it. At least until it became his favourite occupation of the day.

So the serpent observed the beautiful chubby angel quite a while. From a safe distance, of course. As a demon he had straight orders from Hell to cast some trouble in the Garden of Eden. It was highly inappropriate to reach out to the opposition by whatever means, he guessed, or even conveying interest in an angel in the first place. Probably it was forbidden as well. Something demons ought not to do.

He did anyway.

 Crawly watched the serene beauty and listened carefully to every word that emerged these rosy lips, straining to find out more about the angelic guard, trying to get the whole picture. Every piece of the puzzle dragged him closer each day. He liked the way the blond angel yielded his flaming sword when he was practicing some quite impressive combat moves. He liked the way how politely the other man was talking to God’s newest creations (especially the animals), just like he really cared. And he absolutely adored the way the angel’s name rolled off his tongue. Aziraphale... The demon whispered it a couple of times just to listen to the melodic sound.

After seven days Crawly came to the conclusion, that the angel of the Eastern Gate wasn't a threat or dangerous at all, only confirming his initial impression. In fact, there was something tragically lonesome about him. It was almost like looking into a mirror, finding someone as isolated as yourself. No other angel came to talk to him, even God never answered his prayers. That situation felt strangely familiar. Crawly wanted to get closer to the other man straightway, literally craved for a conversation with every fibre of his body. If there was the slightest chance, that the blond angel could truly understand how he feels, that they both are broken in some way, maybe they could feel wholesome again by being together.

They barely knew each other, but as they started talking, it felt like they had known each other for far longer than just a minute. Aziraphale treated him as equal, even though Crawly had revealed his black wings, openly showing his demonic nature. There was no loathing, no rolling eyes, no distrust in the angel’s voice. It was ... odd. Something, Crawly had never experienced before.

So Crawly had stood frozen in indecision for what seemed like forever, thinking of the right way to approach, the right words to say. A feeling of nervousness overwhelmed him. The first impression counted, after all.

And the foremost thing that popped into his mind was, “That one went down like a lead balloon.”

Well. Could have been worse, right?

From up close he could study the other man’s face even better. His far too cute button nose and his ridiculously bright blue eyes, just to name but a few. It completely captured the demon. The way Aziraphale smiled, chuckled in a warm tone as Crawly mentioned their possible misstep, finally tipped him over the edge. It seized his chest with something deeper than admiration.

When raindrops started to pour at the very first time on earth, the demon gazed insultingly upon the sky. It felt cold and wet and absolutely annoying on his skin. The snake-like part inside of him immediately wanted to curl away and hide somewhere safe and warm. The other part clearly wanted to stay right next to Aziraphale, cautiously coming closer. Without a second thought or expecting any kind of counter-performance, the blond man stretched his impressive white wing to shield Crawly.

And that was when the demon had fallen for the angel completely.

Crawly knew on the spur of the moment that he had met the kindest person in his godforsaken life. Cheesy but true. He remembered clearly what Heaven was like. Not as nice as everyone thought it would be, though. On the one hand, he was bored stiff all the time. No temptations or decent drinks, for instance. But worst of all were the conceited archangels and their stupid duties and expectations they placed on every low-ranking angel.

Curiosity and self-determination were two words that simply didn’t appear in Heaven’s vocabulary. As well as ‘Thank you for your hard work’ or ‘We really appreciated that you’ve done this whole crap without questioning it in the first place’ or just a simple ‘Your last nebula was mind-blowing, you incredibly talented angel’.

It’s not that Crawly was demanding or so. Really! But for some kind words you’d wait in vain.

To be fair and square, in Hell they won’t offer you cookies either (Crawly really tried to convince his fellow demons to put more effort into the right acquisition, but incomprehensibly it never fell on understanding ears). Demons don’t trust each other, they don’t even have a single feeling for one another except suspicion. You certainly don’t make friends in Hell. It is a place full of loneliness.

Aziraphale was the first person who ever cared about Crawly at all, noticing things no one noticed, really looking at him and not at the demonic shell. A pure angel as people believe angels should be, with kind and untainted affection. And that was truly something remarkable, because after six thousand years with a troublemaker like him, a demon, his hereditary enemy, Aziraphale never stopped caring.

Read the rest of the chapter here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945739

[whythinktoomuch]

Something’s wrong. 

Kara can tell the moment she steps into Andrea’s office because Andrea’s avoiding her gaze. And pacing. And fidgeting, meticulously tugging at her own fingers before dropping her hands away altogether with a sharp exhale. 

Andrea was uncertain and nervous, her entire body riddled with unease, and something so clearly had to be wrong. 

“What is it? What happened?” Kara hisses, her shoulders already squaring, ready to be draped by a red cape at a moment’s notice. 

Andrea’s cheeks swiftly lose all color and her heart starts pattering just a tiny bit faster, but her scoff sounds just as natural as ever when she says, “Nothing happened, Kara.” 

“Okay...” Kara crosses her arms, her frown unassuming though unconvinced. “Why did you call me in here then?” 

A darkened scowl tugs at Andrea’s sharp features, her jaw clenching tight and determined. But the moment quickly passes without consequence, and Andrea’s shoulders eventually drop, and she draws back every so slightly. “Just... wanted to make sure you were working.” 

Kara stares, bewildered. “Well, I was.” 

“Good,” Andrea says flatly. “Get back to it then.” 

“All right,” Kara says, her abject curiosity thoroughly unsatisfied. “I’ll go do that.” 

She can feel Andrea’s stare burning a hole into her back as she leaves the office. 

—

Kara notices her right away. It’s impossible not to, even with her senses slightly dulled by the pleasant buzz that could only come from consuming an exorbitant amount of Chinese food in one sitting. 

The sight is unexpected, but not unwelcome, and there’s no point in trying to convince her heart otherwise. So, even though she shouldn’t, Kara can’t help herself as she bursts into Andrea’s office, her heart thundering and stuttering in her ears in equal measure. 

“What are you doing here?” she demands, the question cutting through the air, sharp and splintering.  

Lena barely looks up, hands still carelessly sifting through the various documents spread across Andrea’s desk, her expression somehow bored. As if she had any right to be there. To disrupt Kara’s entire life with a simple look. “What does it look like I’m doing?” 

“Andrea’s not here,” Kara informs her coldly, and Lena just rolls her eyes so heavily, never pausing in her task. And, well, it’s unfair. “Lena, you can’t just—”

“Really?” Andrea’s clipped tone rings out as she stomps into the room. “You’re just going to show up like you—what—own the place?” 

Lena flashes a smirk, her shrug small yet utterly self-satisfied. “Well, you weren’t exactly answering my calls, babe.” 

Andrea’s scowl deepens considerably. “Get out.” 

“Fine...” Lena sighs, tucking a small flashdrive into her pocket. “Already found what I came for anyway.” 

She saunters out, but not without throwing one last look over her shoulder. A frown, apparently, for Kara’s benefit. Her eyebrow raised in such a pointed fashion that it must mean something. 

It twists at Kara’s stomach, already swirling unhappily in the wake of Lena’s perfume. 

Kara quickly glances back at Andrea, who was now taking her seat at her desk with a weary sigh. “Was that something important? Do you need me to get it back for you?” 

“It’s fine,” Andrea says, waving her hand dismissively. “You can go too.” 

Kara blinks, taken aback. “Andrea, I work for you, so if you need me to—”

“Yes! You do,” Andrea all but snaps, cutting Kara off with an icy glare. “And I’m telling you to get out of my office.” 

After a prolonged, teetering moment of holding her tongue, Kara just shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re the boss,” she mutters, fastidiously reminding herself to not slam the door on her way out. 

//

It’s been a long day of putting out literal fires all over downtown for Supergirl, and Kara’s tired, covered head to toe in soot, and in desperate need of a hot shower and a warm bed. And so, it’s only natural that she hears a bona fide emergency unfolding on her way home. 

The unsavory combination of a distinct click of a hammer being pulled back and a panicked wait! has Kara hurtling straight for L-Corp without a second thought. Within seconds, she has her cape thrown up and over Andrea’s trembling form, bullets ricocheting uselessly off the heavy fabric. 

Tugging Andrea close to her chest, Kara throws her cape aside in a sharp flourish, and blows out a gust of freeze breath that scatters the gunmen like veritable dominoes. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Kara can’t help but demand, her tone verging on the more exasperated side of incredulity. “Why are you snooping around Lena’s office?” 

Andrea snorts. “I wasn’t snooping,” she says in a slight sneer, and the wave of whiskey hits Kara as a solid wall of sickly sweet because, oh, Andrea was so very clearly and oh so thoroughly drunk. “I was just... well, it doesn’t matter. Just let go of me.” 

Kara backs off, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Lena right now, but whatever it is, you need to fix it. Fast. Because it almost got you killed tonight.” 

“They weren’t after me,” Andrea says, rolling her eyes. “They were after Lena. I just happened to be here, and well, collateral damage, I suppose.” 

“But you would have died just the same. How are you not getting that? You could have died, Andrea, and—” 

“Stop,” Andrea snaps, her eyes wild, yet terribly, terribly focused. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not some pathetic damsel in distress like your precious little Lena. I don’t need—”

The next thing Kara knew, Andrea’s staring up at her, mouth slightly agape, her delicate wrist somehow encased in Kara’s tight grasp. “Never... talk about Lena like that,” she gets out between painfully gritted teeth, and Andrea’s breath falters in a half-hearted scoff. “She’s a friend. Mine and yours, and she’s the most...” 

A pained whimper tumbles from Andrea’s lips and stops Kara cold, and she promptly snatches her hand back, cheeks burning furiously in realization and shame. 

Andrea rubs at her wrist, where Kara’s grip remains readily apparent, an inexcusable brand of angry pink and slight bruising. “A friend,” she repeats, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Right.” 

“I’m sorry...” Kara reaches out instinctively, her heart sinking with heavy regret, but Andrea flinches away from her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you...” She sighs and backs off even more with a ducked head. “Listen, just go home, okay? Take care of yourself.” 

With one last apologetic nod, Kara grabs the pair of still unconscious, would-be assassins by their shirt collars and takes off into the air, desperately fighting off the inevitable guilt still hanging over her as she flies over to the nearest police station. 

// 

When she hears the persistent knock at her door, Kara wastes no time super-speeding out of her bed and right to the door in question. Because it’s practically four in the morning, and anyone knocking at her door at four in the morning has to be having an emergency of some sort or another. 

But even so, it comes as a complete shock when Andrea ends up being the person standing on the other side of the door. 

“Andrea?” Kara blinks, the exhaustion slipping off her bones as bewilderment settles in its stead. But Andrea hardly seems to notice, shoving her way into Kara’s apartment like she belongs there. “... How did you know where I live?” 

“What the hell is your deal with Lena?” Andrea says, whirling around in a fury, and it’s immediately evident that she was somehow even drunker now than she had been at L-Corp. “Why are you so fucking obsessed with her anyway?” 

Kara’s jaw drops in outright disbelief. “I—ex-cuse me?” she sputters out. “You show up to my house in the middle of the night to interrogate me about Lena, and I’m the one obsessed with her?” 

“You’re changing the subject,” Andrea says, words sliding out of her mouth careless and slurred. “I’m just asking a simple little question, and all I need is a simple little answer, so if you would just please get—”

“It’s none of your business.” 

Andrea blinks. Then blinks again. Then stares. 

“It’s... none of your business how I feel about Lena,” Kara says with a defiant shrug. “Or anything about us really, okay? Just try to focus on your own issues with her, and stop making everything so messy and complicated.” She then shakes her head, sighing. “This is all highly inappropriate, by the way. You’re my boss, Andrea. You can’t be drunkenly berating me about personal matters like this. Like, at my apartment? This late?” 

“So, you meant it then?” Andrea asks softly. 

“Meant... what?” 

“What were you going to say?” Andrea asks instead, now tugging at her sleeve, rubbing insistently at the imprint that Kara’s hand had left around her wrist. “Before you stopped yourself, what were you going to say about Lena?” 

Kara’s stomach drops, the implications behind Andrea’s simple line of questioning striking her where she stands, where she lives. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about...” She goes to adjust her glasses, but her hand closes around empty air, and Kara’s already made so many mistakes today since getting out of bed this morning, and yet somehow, it seems that she’s made even more just in the last five minutes. 

“Don’t be like that,” Andrea says, pressing closer, looking up at Kara so earnestly that Kara’s ears start to burn, as if in solidarity. “Just tell me.” 

Kara forces a laugh, eyes darting helplessly around her sparse living room. “She’s just... really important to me, okay? Happy now?” 

“Even with everything going on between you two?” 

“Well, yeah. Nothing’s ever going to change how I feel about—”

Kara’s cut off as Andrea’s lips crash against hers. 

All higher brain function snuffs out, and Kara freezes in place. She can barely process the firm press of Andrea’s mouth, soft lips moving against her own slowly yet insistently, the bittersweet taste of whiskey spreading across her tongue... 

Then Kara grabs Andrea’s shoulders, shoving her at arm’s length with a strangled gasp. “What are you doing? You can’t—Andrea, you’re drunk!” 

“I’m... not.” Andrea sighs, almost resigned, and Kara could almost laugh out of sheer incredulity. Or maybe hysteria. Perhaps both. 

“Um, yes, you are. I can literally taste the whiskey off your breath,” Kara says, before abruptly coughing and shaking her head. “I mean, smell. I can smell the... you know, the whiskey...” 

“No,” Andrea growls, her eyes growing sharp, alert. “I’m not... Andrea.” 

Kara takes a step back, her entire face scrunching into a deeply perplexed frown. 

She studies the face staring back at her. The sharp features, the pouting red lips and the jagged scar across the brow, all deeply familiar and completely at odds with the assertion that had just spilled forth from those very same lips. 

But Kara wills herself to look harder, to look past the obvious, and meets the insistent gaze before her head-on. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest, somehow recognizing the eyes before her brain can even catch up. 

They’re the wrong color, but it’s the very same softened expression that had accompanied the words that still drift into Kara’s awareness at the most inconvenient moments. 

I know you believe that everything is good...

Kara swallows hard.

And kind...

She blinks and shakes her head, but it clears up absolutely nothing for her. 

And that is one of the things I love about you. 

Kara holds her breath, and dares to venture, to believe, to hope. 

“... Lena?”

[astralkoo]

Mr. Slim Thick | Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut, fluff, high school au 

Warnings: sub!jungkook, dom!reader, language, reader has a major thigh kink oof, thigh riding, bondage, oral & fingering (m. receiving), unprotected sex, probably other stuff that I forget oops 

Summary: getting paired up with the kid with the thick thighs from your health class for a project is probably the best thing to happen to you in your high school career. 

Word Count: 7.4k 

A/N; if you’ve seen this before, its because its from my book Domination from my wattpad account Bangtanbbabies, I’ve decided to post my stories from there onto here as well just for the hell of it, enjoy my lovelies ;)

it was Monday.

and you were fucking tired.

but luckily, it was the last period of the day; health.

as usual, Jimin was talking your ear off about some guy he screwed around with at a party last weekend.

as usual, you hummed and nodded, throwing out mindless 'oh really?'s and  'that's wild's as your mind wandered to somewhere different entirely.

and as usual, your eyes were glued to the door, waiting impatiently for a certain someone to finally grace the room with their presence. and finally, he did.

your body went rigid, jaw slacking, eyes widening as Jeon Jungkook slipped into your health classroom.

his body was adorned by a complimenting pair of ripped skinny jeans that hugged his lower body in all the right places, a loose black t–shirt that was cleanly tucked into his pants, put on a teasing show of the lower part of his toned biceps, and a pair of his infamous timberlands.

"y/n."

you felt yourself falter as you took notice of the thick black belt wrapped around his waist, drawing attention to just how slim it was.

holy fucking hell.

no matter how many times you saw him, you were never able to get over just how fine he was.

when he walked past your desk, you had to remind yourself repeatedly that it would technically be conserved sexual assault if you just reached over and spanked his ass.

...unless he was into that... then you were fucking golden.

but no, you refrained from touching him inappropriately (to your own disappointment) and resorted to just watching him.

you watched as he strode gracefully through the classroom, weaving his way through the desks until he reached that of his best friend, Kim Taehyung.

you watched as he grinned at him, small, pink lips molding around the words of a greeting.

you watched as he pressed his large hands against the top of the desk, leaning his body over it slightly, putting the profile of his curvy backside on full display for your hungry eyes.

"y/n."

your tongue slid over your lips, eyes zeroing in on your personal favorite part of his gorgeous body: his thighs. those babies could crush watermelons. but you'd rather them be wrapped around your head.

"y/n!"

"jesus fuck what do you want?" you hissed, whipping around to face park jimin, your best friend of ten years. "can't you see I'm trying to enjoy the walking porn star?"

"you're drooling, perv," he rolled his eyes, "literally."

you raised your hand to your lips, "am not— oh fuck." you quickly used your sleeve to wipe off your damp chin as Jimin snorted loudly.

"do you know nothing of subtlety?"

"I'm subtle," you scowled at him defensively, hands dropping against your desk with a harsh thud that drew a few eyes in your direction.

"sure, that's the reason why the only person unaware about your little infatuation is Jungkook himself, and that's because straight dudes are stupid oblivious."

you pouted, arms crossing stubbornly over your chest, "I'm not infatuated, just interested."

"yeah, in his body."

"nuh–uh!"

"yuh–uh!"

you swatted at his arm harshly, making him gasp dramatically, before he childishly hit you back. soon enough, it turned into a full blow smack war.

"ms. l/n, mr. park. if you wouldn't mind postponing your flirting until after my class, I'd greatly appreciate it," your teacher smiled sarcastically at the two of you.

you rolled your eyes, about to lean back in your seat, when suddenly Jimin's arms were around you, tugging your body into an awkward position against the arm of your desk as he all but groped you. "but, miss, you don't understand, I just can't keep my hands off of her."

your teacher grimaced, "I implore you to try, mr. park."

Jimin pouted, gripping your chin, staring intensely into your eyes. "but she's just so sexy... I can hardly contain my raging testosterone. you know, miss, a man has his needs." you gasped exaggeratedly as his hand suddenly gripped your butt, squeezing.

"naughty boy~ we were just in the janitor’s closet during lunch," you 'whispered', biting your lip, both for the little show you two were putting on but also to contain the laugh threatening to burst out of you, "do you already need more, daddy?"

he moaned loudly, eyes fluttering shut. you slapped your hand over your mouth, head falling against his shoulder as your body shook with silent laughter.

that seemed to be the last straw for your teacher because she looked about ready to burst from the twenty shades of red her face was turning.

but, instead of throwing detentions in your faces (knowing she'd have to spend an extra hour after school with the two of you tormenting her), she brought her fingers to her temples, massaging roughly, muttering to herself several times in a row, "ten more years until retirement. jail time isn't worth it."

"I think we broke her," you cackled, Jimin nodding in agreement.

"alright," she shouted suddenly, slamming her hands down on the top of her desk, "enough time wasted. since I have no interest in so much as attempting to teach you hormonal reprobates, I'm going to give you a project."

Jimin and you side eyed each other hopefully, waiting for her to spit out those last words.

"and you will be working in groups of two or three,"

the class erupted into eager conversation, people turning to their friends and shooting looks across the room. you and Jimin performed your secret hand shake, cheering excitedly. until,

"that will be randomly assigned."

groans of protest and annoyance filled the room. she just rolled her eyes and pulled up a randomizer on her computer, spinning a wheel and waiting for the groups to be assigned. she turned to screen around to face the class, who quickly scrambled out of their seats to see who they'd be working with.

there were a few sighs of disappointment but no adamant protests. once you and Jimin reached the screen, seeing your names paired together, you high–fived, muttering out a, "hell yeah." but your excitement was cut short by your buzzkill of a health teacher, who quickly took notice of your eagerness.

"well that just won't work," she tsked, shaking her head disapprovingly, "for the love of all things holy and pure you two should definitely not be paired together. hold on just a moment."

"miss, you can't be serious, we were just—" you began.

"mr. jeon, please switch with mr. park and be ms. l/n's partner."

"see ya, bitch," you snorted, swiveling on your heels to face a confused looking Jungkook.

he glanced once at his irrelevant partner before shrugging and making his way over to you. you yelped as a sharp pinch was delivered to your arm.

"traitor," Jimin hissed as he stalked away from you. you simply shrugged, smirking to yourself.

for that fine piece of ass, you'd betray your bestie any day.

"hey, Jungkook," you grinned. he smiled lightly nodding in greeting as you both fell into nearby seats.

the entire rest of the class, ms. stickupherass was explaining what the project would consist of, you were completely zoned out. instead of listening, you were intensely focused on staring at the side of Jungkook's stupidly cute face.

your eyes traced the pronounced curve of his nose, fluttering over those little pink lips, following the strikingly sharp line of his jaw. this was the closest you've been to the boy since you accidentally ran into him in the hall, accidentally dropped your stuff, and accidentally let yourself admire his thighs and butt as he picked it all up like the gentleman he was.

so no, you were not about to waste this precious opportunity to listen to your teacher ramble on about some trivial project.

before you knew it, the bell was ringing.

with a disappointed pout, you began packing your belongings away.

"so... where should we work on the project?" his soft, breathy voice took you by surprise, sending shudders of delight down your spine just by the mere sound of it.

"hm?"

"when should we work on this?" he repeated with a soft giggle that had your heart doing all kinds of weird gymnastic tricks, "maybe in the library... we could stay after school if you want to?" he suggested softly

"and spend another hour of my life in this hell hole? no thanks," you scowled, nose scrunching at the suggestion. he nodded meekly in understanding, head lowering. you bit your lip lightly, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, "how about you come by my place after school today, and we can get some real work done there."

he seemed oblivious to the double meaning behind your statement. instead, he took on a somewhat worried expression, eyes drifting off somewhere else.

"would your boyfriend be okay with that?"

your face scrunched in confusion, "boyfriend, what boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend. where the hell did you get that idea?"

he blinked at you, visibly bemused, "but, I thought you were with Jimin?"

you nearly choked on your own laughter as it came bursting from you lips, "please, he's about as straight as your ass looks in those jeans."

"what?"

lmao, exposed yourself bitch.

"he's gay, very gay."

"oh."

it was surprisingly easy to convince Jungkook to come to your house, despite his endearing refusals of not wanting to intrude, but you insisted. adamantly.

because intrusion was exactly what you were hoping for.

you even convinced him to let you drive him, seeing as he usually took the bus or got a ride from one of his older friends.

he looked cute as fuck sitting in your passenger seat, fiddling shyly with his fingers as his big eyes gazed out the window.

several times you had to stop your hand from reaching over the console and gripping those thick, luscious thighs. they were just fucking begging to be squeezed, and kissed, and bruised, and rode—

okay. so you might have a bit of an infatuation.

you knew it would be about fifteen million times harder to control the urge to grab him and fuck him in every position known to man once you actually had him in your house. especially with your parents at work...

it'd just be you, him, and the demon sitting on your shoulder with a massive thigh kink.

"welcome to mi casa," you sang, throwing yourself down on your living room couch, smiling cheekily up at a visibly uncertain Jungkook, "make yourself at home, babe."

you watched in amusement as his cheeks tinted a soft pink color as the nickname slid off your lips in a flirtatious purr. he faltered briefly, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as his cheeks filled with air, eyes flickering noncommittally around the room.

"Come on, I don't bite," you grinned, patting the seat beside you, adding under your breath, "too hard."

he lowered himself onto the couch, and you pouted at the unreasonable (it was reasonable) amount of distance he put between you two, but decided to let it be. he pulled materials out of his backpack, setting them up on the table in front of you.

"do you think you can explain what exactly we're supposed to be doing, because I may or may not have completely zoned out while she was talking," you admitted.

he chuckled softly, "well, she said were supposed to make a poster showing or explaining the positive and the negative of engaging in sexual intercourse as teenagers, and it's supposed to show us how like, sex isn't worth the risk at a young age."

haha. yeah, okay.

"so, the pros and cons of fucking?" you reiterated, brows raising. his cheeks tinted a shade of pink at your blunt wording and he nodded slowly.

"y–yeah, I guess you could say it like that."

a wicked smirk twisted onto your face. wonderfully sinful ideas began to swirl to life in your mind. you were beginning to appreciate ms. stickupherass more and more every second.

until you actually started to do the project.

"one pro? really? that's all you can think of?" you scoffed in disbelief, staring at the t–chart he had compiled. the long list of negatives far outdid the single positive he had come up with.

"there is only one positive to sex: momentary pleasure. other than that there is literally nothing to gain besides std's and regret." he muttered, matter–of–fact.

"have you ever even had sex before?"

his deeply blushing face and skittering  eyes were all the answer you needed.

"you've never had sex before? are you crazy? then how the fuck can you sit here talking shit about it? that's like when people say pineapple pizza sucks before they've even tried it! It (insert opinion on pineapple pizza bc I'm not tryna start any wars ya feel), but I can say that because I've actually tried it before!"

"I know about all the risks and consequences that come with sex! it just doesn't seem worth it."

"but you're only exposing yourself to the negative. you gotta give yourself a chance to experience life and all its messy, beautiful qualities. you can't just make your mind about something you've never experienced before," you countered quickly, "sex can be... life changing."

"yeah, especially when you end up with a new addition nine months later."

"ever heard of protected sex, jackass?"

"no amount of protection is full proof."

you took a deep breath, closing your eyes. you will not hit Jeon Jungkook. you will not hit Jeon Jungkook. you will not hit Jeon Jungkook.

of course the first guy you've ever met to not want to have sex is the kid you've been obsessing over since the first day of high school. how fucked up is that.

"listen, Jungkook," you sighed, rubbing your temples, "sex is a whole lot more than you're giving it credit for."

"I know what—"

"hear me put, okay?" you interrupted quickly, giving him a pointed glare. he sealed his lips, nodding obediently. you continued, "sex isn't always just about pleasure. it's about intimacy, connection, trust, love. it's about forming a deeper relationships with someone. why do you think some people wait until after marriage? it's about putting faith in someone, and showing them trust."

he watched you intently as you spoke, lips faintly parted, eyes wide. every word that passed from your lips, he listened to devotedly.

"that's not to say sex can't be dirty or heartbreaking or wrong. believe me, I know it can be anything but good. but,  I've also seen how amazing it can be. if you do it right, with the right person, in the right place... shit, it can be—"

"life changing?" he finished for you, a thoughtful smile on his lips.

you chuckled, nodding. "exactly. and I'm not saying you should go out and fuck everything with a pulse. I'm just saying, sex isn't always this horrible, disgusting thing that you think it is. if it was, I doubt so many people would be having it."

all at once, his mouth was on yours. your eyes widened, body going rigid. well, you weren't expecting that.

just as quickly as he had kissed you, he pulled away. he looked horrified, mouth gaping, eyes practically popping out of their sockets. it seemed he was just as caught off guard as you were.

the kiss couldn't have lasted for more than three seconds. but in those quick seconds, you had gotten a taste of him.

and you wanted more.

he began to spit it a flustered mess of an apology, "holy shit, I'm so sorry, I don't know why I—"

"shut up," you growled, grabbing him by the back of the neck and drawing his lips back onto your own.

he emitted a sound of surprise, but didn't make a move to pull away. even so, his lips were puckered and stiff. it was obvious he had no idea what he was doing. chuckling, you leaned away just enough that your lips weren't touching.

"relax, Jungkook," you murmured, pecking his lips lightly.

"I'm sorry," he managed to choke out, face turning beat red for the umpteenth time that day, "I've just never... done this before."

"you've never kissed anyone before?" he shook his head weakly, features burning with embarrassment at his admission. you smiled, caressing your thumb over his warm cheek, "that's alright... I'll teach you."

"o–okay," he whimpered, dark eyes focusing in on your lips.

seeing the need that sparkled faintly within them, you decided not to make him wait any longer. you pressed your lips gently to his, moving slowly, but with purpose. his motions gradually grew from stiff and uncertain to relaxed and fluid. you let out a sound of approval, one of your hands sneaking down to squeeze his thigh.

god damn.

he gasped in your mouth, and you dipped your tongue skillfully between his lips. a loud moan escaped his chest, the sound sending chills down your spine. you couldn't help but to wonder what he would sound like moaning your name, begging for more...

that thought alone was enough to have you tugging him closer to you, pulling his leg over your lap until he was straddling your thighs. your hands wandered to his waist, thumbs rubbing small circles. he shuddered faintly, giggling into your mouth as you hit a ticklish spot.

"god, you're so cute," you chuckled, kissing over his jaw as his head tilted back, offering you more access. he mewled as you hit a weak place.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he gasped, hands jumping up to grip your shoulders tightly.

"don't think too much, just enjoy," you purred, nipping at his collarbone playfully, "and follow my lead." the grip you had on his waist slipped down to his narrow hips, guiding them in slow grinding motions.

"o–oh," he swallowed, jaw slacking as his eyes dropped between you, watching himself grind against you. it didn't take long for a prominent bulge to form in his tight jeans, the restriction making him squirm. he let out a strangled whine, "y/n... it hurts."

you smirked, "why don't you strip for me, baby?"

his cheeks ignited in a hot crimson blush. "s–strip?" you hummed, unbuckling his belt and pulling it out from the loops, dropping it onto the floor. that may be useful later.

he nodded, "okay." you grinned, excitement boiling up inside of you, leaning back as Jungkook stood up before you. he bit his bottom lip, eyes fluttering shyly as he gripped the bottom of his black t–shirt.

"d–don't laugh."

your eyes widened, brows raising. "I would never laugh at you, I promise," there was steadfast certainty in your voice, your hand rubbing soothingly down the back of his leg, "it's okay if you don't want to do this—"

"no! no, I want to," he cut you off quickly, and you couldn't help the feeling of relief that washed over you.

"okay," you leaned back, "then take it off."

with an adorable look of determination, he began to strip; starting with his shirt. you had to bite your lip near the point of blood when he slowly peeled the fabric off of his body to keep from crying out 'glory, glory, hallelujah!'. hot was an understatement.

muscular shoulders that melted into sculpted biceps. a bulky chest that screamed push up fiend and formed into a set of six tight, toned abs.

"Jesus," your mouth watered.

you couldn't stop your hand from reaching out and caressing down his body, watching as his stomach flexed under your touch.

"work out much?" you smirked up at him.

he chuckled, shrugging faintly, "it’s a hobby of mine."

yeah, it fucking shows.

once again, your eyes slid down to see his erection still standing proud, straining hopelessly. you licked your lips lustfully. seeing what was above the belt, only made you want to see what was below it a hundred times worse.

"fuck, take your pants off," you impatience was beginning to show as your hands found the zipper of his jeans. but he suddenly grabbed your wrists. you looked up at him, concerned you'd gone too fast for his liking.

but his dark, desire filled eyes and the playful smirk on his lips told you otherwise. "please... let me," he murmured, you nodded in a slight daze from the look he was giving you. releasing your wrists, he slowly pushed his jeans over his hips, letting them slip teasingly down his thick thighs, before they finally pooled at his ankles, where he had earlier kicked off his timbers.

you groaned softly, nearly melting at the sight of his bare legs in front of you. shaved, they were fucking shaved. you could see the taunt muscles bulging underneath his soft skin. and holy fuck his thighs, his thighs, his fucking thighs. tan and big and bite–able.

shit, they were even hotter than you imagined.

"you... you can touch me... if you want..."

his soft, bashful voice broke you from the trance you'd put yourself in, and you quickly snapped your stare away from his thickness and up to his face. he looked shy again, bottom lip sucked into his mouth, cheeks rounded, raised, and tinted by a subtle pink, eyes big and shiny in the most endearing way imaginable.

how the holy fuck were you supposed to say no to that.

in less than a second your hands were back on his thighs, rubbing, squeezing, savoring. his skin was warm and tight under your greedy hands, tensing every time your fingers grazed a particularly sensitive area.

just touching suddenly wasn't enough. leaning forward, you grazed your lips over the hem of his tight boxers, biting gently at the flesh just below it. he trembled, moaning softly as you placed a flurry of kisses and light sucks on his legs.

thigh kink? confirmed.

you were so close, you could see his erection growing by the second. and shit was that a turn on. with a twinge of reluctance, you detached your mouth from his thighs, peering up at his slack jawed face with a smirk.

"you look good in black, Jeon," you teased, lightly tracing your index finger over his boner.

"please, y/n," he moaned, his knees beginning to grow weak underneath him. as much as you would have loved to have kept teasing the hell out of him, there were far more important matters to take into consideration.

pulling away from him, you shifted over to make room for his large body on the couch. "down," you demanded.

he all but launched himself onto the couch, before staring at you like an obedient puppy awaiting his next command. you were already power hungry enough as is, and now he was looking at you like that? the fuck was he trying to do to you?

he yelped in surprise as you planted your hands on his shoulders, shoving him back. he fell, head landing near the arm rest, torso propped up on his elbows, legs parted, one foot resting on the floor. he looked like a work of art laid out like that. you could just devour him.

you crawled on top of him, trapping his head between your hands. "do you know how long I've wanted you, Jungkook?" you muttered, brushing your nose over his. he shook his head, breathing heavily as you positioned one of your knees against his crotch. "do you know how long I've wanted to have your gorgeous body underneath mine? too fucking long."

he moaned out as you pressed into him, at the same time capturing his mouth in yours in a wet, sloppy, hungry kiss that had his mind reeling. his large hands gripped your jaw, one of his legs hooked over your hip, keeping you close to him. he loved feeling you.

"do you know how much of a tease you are?" you growled against his mouth, biting his bottom lip. "shit, you have to know. walking around in those tight jeans, showing off that tight little ass. you love it, don't you? having everyone's eyes all over you."

he was panting as his hips began to slowly grind against your leg, desperate for friction. "I– I never realized—"

you cut him off with a hand around his throat, tsking softly, "don't lie to me, baby. liars get punished." shit, y/n don't get too kinky on him, it's still his first time, you silently reminded yourself. but he seemed to enjoy it enough, because his grinding became rougher and faster, to the point where he was essentially dry humping your leg.

"f–fuck, punish me," he moaned out, clenching and unclenching his fists in your hair. you choked.

he was asking for it. literally asking for it. if it was any other guy, you would have already jumped his bones.

but this was Jeon Jungkook, your not so secret obsession since the beginning of high school. he was underneath you, horny, hard, and asking you to punish him. and yet, you still weren't sure.

on one hand; you wanted to fuck his shit up. you wanted to feel him writhing, hear him crying out, see him sweating. you wanted to wreck that boy. fuck him into oblivion, until he was seeing stars.

but on the other hand; he was still a virgin. he had no experience whatsoever, and had only just had his first kiss that day, with you. you didn't want to hurt him–hurt him his first time. you didn't know if he could take it.

Jungkook must have seen the conflicted expression on your face, because he made a soft noise to bring your attention back to him.

"please–," he whimpered, spreading his thighs with a needy moan, "please, be rough with me."

w—

was your life a joke to him?

"shit, Jeon," you huffed out a strained chuckle, "you're really fucking me up here."

he whimpered again, looking up at you pleadingly. "I can handle it, I promise. I want more. I want you."

was this the same guy that said the only things you can gain from sex are std's and regret?

it wasn't hard for him to shatter any tiny amount of resistance you offered with a single look. you nodded faintly, smiling as his face lit up. "don't be afraid to tell me to stop, okay? I don't want to get too carried away."

he hummed, head bobbing in acknowledgment.

"words, baby," you scolded.

"yes, I promise," he breathed, eyes honing in on your lips, "can you kiss me again?"

as much as you wanted to tell him this was serious, you still couldn't bring yourself to say no. you kissed him again, slowly this time. you chuckled at the feeling of his tongue prodding at your lips. "impatient thing, aren't you?"

he opened his mouth to respond, but could only manage a gasp as you began to trail your mouth down his body, until you were face to crotch with his throbbing arousal. you looked up at him with a cocked brow. "want them off?"

you had barely finished the question before he was rapidly nodding his head, biting his lip as he hummed desperately. chuckling at his eagerness, you slid your fingers under the waistband on his black Calvin Klein's, and tugged them down.

his erection swung out of it's confines like a god damn baseball bat, slapping against his stomach hard enough to make him flinch slightly. you don't remember ever seeing a guy that hard before. and you'd barely even touched him.

"impressive, baby," you purred, soothing your hands over the inside of his thighs. pressing a slow kiss to his hipbone, you murmured, "you're already so hard for me... it makes me wonder..."

your fingers glided closer and closer to where you knew he wanted you most, but never touching him. frustration blossomed on his face in the attractive shade of crimson.

"if I could make you come without even touching you."

he cried out, desperately shaking his head, "no, no please– I can't. please touch me. I need you, plea—" he cut himself off with a thunderous moan as your hand wrapped around his dick and began pumping quickly.

you smiled cheekily up at him, "since you said please."

he was already slick with his own pre cum, hot and throbbing in your palm. spluttering moans escaped his lips as his body tried to process the pleasure of your smooth, rapid strokes. little need be said that it was a lot for his virgin cock to handle in that moment.

his head jerked up when you suddenly pulled away, staring down at you with furrowed brows and hopeless eyes.

"you wanted me to kiss you, right?" it was more of a rhetorical question, and you didn't really give him the chance to reply anyways before your mouth was on his dick.

Jungkook cried loudly, throwing his head back as you french kissed his tip.

"f–fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," he whined between harsh onslaughts of gasps and moans, tightly grabbing the armrest above his head. you hummed in admiration as his chest broadened and his skin tightened with the stretch, putting his taut pectorals on full display.

every flick and twirl of your tongue sent tendrils of pleasure shooting through his body in hot, wet, glorious waves. his back arched off of the couch cushion every time you sucked, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening.

you watched, ego practically bursting out of your head at how responsive he was. every thrust of his torso, every tremble of his legs, every gorgeous sound that thrust itself from his lips went straight to your core. he was undeniably intoxicating.

he suddenly threw his legs over your shoulders, ankles locking on the small of your back. you moaned around him as you realized the position he'd just put himself in. your hands crawled up his flexing thighs, gripping them tightly.

talk about a dream come true. literally.

you applied some vigor to your motions, bobbing your head eagerly and twisting your tongue around him. you felt him begin to twitch in your mouth, the fluid leaning from his swollen cock lathering your tongue. that combined with the sounds he was making, beautiful, high whines, signaled that he was close. but you weren't done yet.

all at once, you pulled away, panting slightly but smirking nonetheless.

"w–why did you... s–stop?" he gasped, brows furrowing as he looked down at you desperately.

"because I want to show you another trick I learned during one of my rendezvous," you purred, kissing down his thighs to soothe the orgasm you prevented him from experiencing, "if you're up for it?"

"if it feels anything like that, I'm down," he was quick to agree, pulling his legs off of you as you sat up.

"I'm happy to hear that..." your eyes wandered below his dick, and your eyes glistened with excitement. before he could put two and two together, your fingers were tracing his lips. "do you mind sucking?" you asked. he shook his head, and you chuckled at his big doe eyes, sending you silent pleas, "then suck, baby."

he obediently took your fingers into his mouth, small lips delicately wrapping around them. you hummed in appreciation, loving the way he looked with your fingers in his mouth.

"that's right baby, use your tongue, make them wet," you groaned, pushing them deeper. he silently complied, tongue shyly swirling around them, cheeks going concave and he sucked gently. all the while, his eyes, wide and glistening, looked into yours, hungry for approval.

Jesus Christ, have mercy.

"you'll make me come in my pants if you keep this up," you joked, biting at the inside of your cheek. that statement only seemed to add fuel to the fire, because before you could process what he was doing, he had you fingers knuckle deep in his mouth, sucking them like his life depended on it. now, it was your turn to go slack jawed.

when it got to the point where you could feel the arousal beginning to drip between your thighs, you drew your fingers from his mouth. you shuddered with glee at the sight of a string of his spit connecting the tip of your finger to his lips. hot. hot, really fucking hot.

"damn, baby. you're good with your mouth," you chuckled breathlessly, trying to ignore the sexy way his brows rose in suggestive arches at your statement.

"I can be even better if you give me something hot and wet to eat."

well fuck you too, Jeon. now my ovaries have exploded, thanks a whole fuckin' lot you little tongue slut.

"maybe if you behave yourself, yeah?" you all but growled, feeling the heat in your body increase tenfold. and then he had the nerve to smirk at you. as if you weren't turned on enough. now you had to show him who the fuck was in charge here. "you're asking for it, Jeon."

he chuckled shortly, biting his lip. "then give it to me."

welp. there goes taking it easy his first time.

in seconds, you had his hands pinned above his head and the belt you had discarded earlier wrapped tightly around his wrists. he groaned at the feeling of the taut leather pulling at his delicate skin, loving the sensation of being restrained more than he thought he would.

"such a spoiled little brat, aren't you?" you snarled, grabbing one of his legs and forcing it up over your shoulder, holding the other against his chest. he bit his lip, eagerly nodding in agreement. "making demands like that. shit, you want it so bad? then have it, baby."

he cried out as the tips of your wet fingers slowly penetrated his virgin hole. hot, salty tears pooled in his eyes at the foreign stretch. you placed soothing kisses down his neck, murmuring sweet, encouraging words against his skin.

"tell me to stop if it's too much," you uttered, feeling his body trembling and tensing beneath you.

he quickly shook his head at that, "I'm okay– I'm okay... keep going... please keep going."

you praised him quietly, continuing to ease your fingers into him. his back arched deeply, forcing your chest together so firmly not even a piece of paper could slip between you. his head rolled to the side, panting lips pressing to his bicep, prominent bunny teeth biting into the flesh as his brows scrunched.

beautiful didn't begin to describe him.

"you're taking my fingers so well, baby," you cooed, thrusting your fingers shallowly, slowly in and out of him at a consistent pace, allowing his body to adjust properly. you could tell he was still in some pain, but it was quickly melting from his feature, being replaced by something entirely different.

"y/n," he drawled out a low moan, hips steadily beginning to roll in time with your fingers.

oh, you knew what that meant.

"you want more?"

he nodded quickly, whining for emphasis. you only grinned and continued your now painfully slow motions. he groaned in frustration when he tried to grind his hips down, only for you to grab them and pin them down. this was becoming torturous. this shallow pleasure and weak stretches weren't enough to get him anywhere. you know that. and now so did he.

face blossoming in a deep red, he weakly squirmed against his restraints in order to lift his head. "y/n, I can handle it, please! I need— shit," he squeaked loudly, eyes popping open almost comically when your fingers suddenly pushed deeply into him. his entire body jolted and you felt him clench around you.

"relax. you said you could handle it right?" he could only nod, words evading him as you pulled out, only to plunge right back in. the motion sent his head into a fuzzy state of euphoria that he'd never had the pleasure of encountering before.

it wasn't long before you were pumping into him at an arm numbing pace. your bicep and wrist ached, but you really couldn't care less. not with how utterly, stupefyingly gorgeous he looked.

hands bound above his head, which was thrown back as his strained throat shot out whorish moans. sweat making his rippling skin shimmer like an ocean at sunset. every muscle in his upper body was flexed and on full display for your greedy eyes, bulging and trembling.

"you look like you're about to just burst, Jeon," you teased, biting your lip at the sound of your palm connecting with his toned backside with sharp smacks.

wet? nah bitch you were drenched.

"w–wa... wait–wai... wait!" he gasped and moaned as your skilled fingers brought him closer and closer to the edge. you immediately still, quickly drawing your hand away from him.

"did I hurt you?" you asked, concern shining in your eyes.

"no, no it felt good. really good, fuck. I just..." you furrowed your brows in confusion, waiting for him to continue, "I don't want to come from your hand."

your brows raised, "oh?"

"I want you to fuck me."

oh.

a massive smirk split your cheeks. "don't have to tell me twice," you swooped down, kissing him fiercely. you moved the undo his binds, letting the belt hit the floor with a soft thud. with his freed hands, he reached down and helped you tug off your pants. you were both far too eager even bother taking off your underwear. you moaned softly as his slender fingers pushed the fabric to the side, grazing your wet lips.

he gasped, looking up at you with wide eyes. "you're so wet."

chuckling, you ground against his lingering fingers, moaning soft at the sparks of pleasure that followed. "mm, all because of you, baby." he blushed deeply, biting his lip to contain a wide smile. he hadn't realized he was affecting you just as much as you were affecting him.

he took you off guard as he slid his fingers against you, lightly pressing against your core, applying pressure to your sensitive clit. you jerked, legs quivering beneath the weight of your body. "easy, I'm not trying to come before I even get to feel you inside of me. I've waited too long for this."

in one swift motion, you sunk down on his erect cock. you gasped as he moaned in shock, both of you taken off guard by just how good it felt. you hadn't expected that much of a stretch, his dick filling you flawlessly. he hadn't expected you to be that tight, squeezing and clenching around him. he thought he was overwhelmed before, but this was an entirely different ball game. hehe, literally.

"oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Jungkook choked, hands searching hopelessly for something to grab onto but unable to decide what he wanted to hold onto.

you chuckled breathlessly between soft moans, rolling your hips in slow figure eights. "God's got nothing to do with this, baby." You gripped at his muscular shoulders for support as you rode his dick.

truth is, he felt a thousand times better than you thought he would. he wasn't massive, but he was the perfect size for you, just thick enough to stretch you out without causing any real pain and long enough to reach that perfect, sensitive little spot inside of you with ease.

"fuck you feel so good," you groaned, throwing you head back as you sped up your pace, bouncing with renewed stamina.

Jungkook keened, feeling already himself teetering on that edge. but he didn't want to finish, he didn't want it to end. the feelings, the sensations you were giving him were unlike anything he'd ever faced before.

"y/n— I think I might–" he began to warn you, but his words got lost in gasping moans and hopeless whines. you got the message though, especially at the feeling of him throbbing and twitching inside of you.

"then I'm going to need you to touch me, baby," you guided his wrist to your aching pussy, moaning loudly when his fingers made contact with your swollen clit, "f–fuck right the–there."

he whimpered, wanting to please you just as much as you were pleasing him. "how?" he asked desperately, hips reflexively jumping as you clenched around him.

with your hand laid over top of his, you were able to lead his long middle finger in drawing small circles, until he was doing it all on his own. "oh shit, yeah– yeah, just like that... just like that." he couldn't hide the smile that grew at the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your mouth gaping in silent moans as his touches worked you closer and closer to your undoing.

but you wiped that smile off his face when your hands landed back on his chest, brushing his nipples and making his back arch upwards. you tested it again, this time with gentle pinches that had him crying out in euphoria, bucking into you hard.

"oh? you like that? you like getting your nipples played with? how cute." you managed, tweaking his hardened buds with a sadistic smirk. he sobbed, tears of pleasure rushing from his eyes. it was getting harder and harder to hold himself back. but he refused to come before you.

forcing his mind out of the euphoric haze, he put his hands and hips to work, drilling into you with every ounce of strength he had.

he managed to hit your sweet spot with every powerful thrust. and before you knew it, you were coming faster than you'd ever come before, vision filling with blinding stars, body going rigid above his and trembling uncontrollably. your walls constructed around him as you came with the most mind numbing orgasm you'd ever experienced, and that was just enough encouragement to have him exploding inside of you with a loud cry.

"fuck– fuck, y/n, fuck," he moaned, riding out his high with hard, sloppy thrust. you could only manage a weak whimper from oversensitivity, slumping on top of him, completely and utterly spent.

you laid them for at least five minutes, both of you trying to catch your breath and collect the wits that had just seemed to implode.

unexpectedly, you let out a bellowing laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lazily looped around your back. "shit, Jeon. didn't know you had it in you," you giggled airily, kissing his shoulders in a surprisingly tender gesture.

he smiled, giggling along with you. "you brought it out of me."

"oh, I'm flattered, gorgeous," you cooed playfully, plastering kisses across his cheeks. he lightly swatted you away, squirming as you tickled at his sides.

with a soft sigh, you pushed yourself off of him. he watched in confusion as you grabbed his clothes off the floor, handing them to him. you chuckled when you saw the worried look on his face, leaning down to press a reassuring kiss to his lips. "as much as I enjoy cuddling after a good fuck, you should probably ditch before my parents get home. they’re not always so welcoming to strangers."

his shoulders relaxed, realizing you weren't just going to kick him to the curb after giving him the best afternoon of his life.

"understandable," he swiftly tugged on his shirt, followed by his pants and messily stuffed book bag. he turned back to you with a hopeful glimmer in his dark eyes, and a shy blush coating his cheeks. it was amazing that he was still so bashful after having just fucked your brains out.

"you'll... you'll text me... right?"

you laughed softly, cupping his jaw and drawing him into one last kiss. "how could I not?"

he grinned giddily, pecking your lips in his excitement. "okay! okay, good!" He coughed quickly, trying to cap his happiness, "I mean— cool, cool. very cool. I'll see you tomorrow. have a good— uh, night!"

you shook your head with a soft smile as he darted out the front door, closing it gently behind him.

"I might just have to keep you around, Jeon."

[lokidrabbles]

Pleasure Control (Loki x Reader)

Reader misses Loki and things get very heated.

A/N: Another short, stand alone oneshot! This one didn’t have much direction, I do apologize, but just to get me into the grove of things again. Thank you all for your likes and reblogs, I hope these stories bring some enjoyment to you all! As always, Gender Neutral Reader!

Warnings: Suggested smut, horny reader in general

You swore time began to move much more slower. You eyes remained glued on the clock on your laptop, waiting for an excruciating minute until you could finally clock out. You were restless. It had been a grueling week, which is a lot to say for working under Tony Stark.

The weekend was just at your fingertips, and you could almost foresee yourself lounging at home, phone tossed to the side, completely forgetting about your career for a moment. You ached for the time off for your own personal care, but also because an itch had been begging at you the entire week. This was one of the months where the Asgardian brothers would frequent in New York, and you were more than eager to meet up with Loki.

You missed him when he was away. You admitted your relationship with him was unorthodox, and gratifying at times, but you were genuine with your yearning for his company. Conveniently enough, your desk had become riddled with reports needing to all be documented and processed ASAP, preventing you from even saying a hello to him.

As a motivator, your thoughts were focused on finishing every single task in the most efficient and adequate manner, all for the sake of slamming your laptop close and skipping off to see your Asgardian lover. Your mind began to conjure a plan of how to spend the weekend with him, mostly involving some fancy wine, expensive sweets and a midnight stroll. The images in your head soon turned into another direction, one not so sweetly romantic or innocent. This was midweek, and you struggled with containing the lewd thoughts at bay. It was a piercing heat, distracting you frequently throughout the intensity of the office.

Your memory began to work double, drawing back to the moments when both you and Loki were explicitly intimate. The first time you had both laid with one another became one of your most cherished memories of him. It was completely unexpected but you certainly did not object at his advances. It was curious to even think Loki would have some type of sexual drive, he always appeared very reserved and aloof about the subject to you. However, you soon figured it was just a matter of feeling extremely comfortable around you, and then he would unleash something even you wouldn’t be able to control for long periods.

Now he could go for much, much longer than you had been used to, again, not that you were complaining. It was during this when you finally got a good understanding at just how strong he actually was. He wasn’t as muscular as his brother per say, but he could maneuver you around willingly without breaking a sweat. At times, he would suspend you in the air whilst having his way with you, providing you with an awesome and unique experience. His kisses would become much slower and tender, peppering you all over your body and in places where you had never been kissed before. He was very quiet during all of it, every now and then muttering things about how you’d look and how hard you had made him. It seemed sex was an experience he took much time and appreciation with. Certainly he wasn’t the type to look for some quick fun on the spot.

Your favorite sensation was his hands grasping tightly at your thighs and ass, as if to say these belonged to him. Another spine tingling behavior of his was his playful teasing over your neck. He seemed to have a sick enjoyment of watching you twitch and quiver as he laid fluttering kisses on your collarbone, all the way up to your jaw. You’d become so weak when he would then whisper terrible, sultry things into your ear. You often wondered if his magic would cause you to become so blissfully content under his touch, almost needing to beg at times to slow down when it would become intense. You knew he loved it all, being in control and having that dominance over you and you loved all the attention you’d receive.

You took many restroom breaks by the end of the work week, often splashing cold water on your face in an effort to both physically and mentally cool down. You chastised yourself, ashamed at the poor control you had over your thoughts, perceiving Loki as nothing but a piece of meat. You liked him for more than just his appeal, that was certain. But perhaps your innate human sexuality was asking for more than that, maybe as a way to de-stress from the long week.

The minute soon came to an end, prompting you to hastily clock out. You messily gathered your belongings, quickly waving good bye to your coworkers and practically sprinted out of the department.

Your eyes darted back and forth all over the facility, on the search for that familiar, grumpy Asgardian in green. Your heart began to beat faster as the adrenaline began to kick in. The excitement was tantalizing, and you knew you had failed at keeping your itch at bay. You were well intending to jump all over him and allow you body to do the talking despite knowing he’d push you off in an instant.

Your instinct guided you towards a lower floor, where the employee kitchen and lounge area for the I.T. department was. For whatever reason, the area was often empty, and you’d sneak a couple of lunch breaks here when your floor’s lounge area was full. Naturally, you’d let Loki know about the barren area, knowing he wasn’t one for large crowds as well. You briefly thought of the possibilities of what could transpire in such a place, and your lips quivered uncontrollably.

The planets must have been aligned. The corner of your eye quickly caught onto the tinge of forest green that would always decorate Loki’s attire. He was leaning against one of the counters in the lounge room, flipping mindlessly through a magazine of sorts. It was never an easy feat to sneak up to Loki and he immediately perked his head upwards to catch you stepping towards him.

“I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about me.” He said teasingly, putting down the reading material. “It has been a bore meandering around-”

His words failed to register in your head. An uncontrollable desire guided your instincts and you practically jumped onto him, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders and neck, bringing him close to a messy, crooked kiss. You were lucky to have Loki react instantly. His hands landed on your waist, gripping whilst holding you up and making sure you didn’t tumble downwards. It must have just lasted for a few seconds, as the Asgardian prince promptly pulled away from your pursed lips. He held onto your waist still, your legs dangling slightly above the floor.

You looked up, concerned as to why he physically pulled you away from him. He looked disheveled. Several strands of hair hung delicately over his face, and the only way you could describe his expression was a charming mixture of embarrassment and disbelief.

“Would you mind not doing that out in the open?” He asked aggressively between gritted teeth.

“There’s literally no one around us, stop being like that.” You retorted, an unknowing pout forming on your lips. “Don’t you realize how long its been since I’ve been able to see you?”

“You were going to see me eventually.” He said bluntly, lowering you gently on the floor. “And I’d rather not have anyone walk in on something like that, lest you’d enjoy a very taxing conversation among your employer.”

“You’re killing me here Loki.” You said while crossing your arms around your chest. “It’s a huge bummer to see you’re clearly not as enthusiastic about this.”

“Don’t put words into my mouth mortal, I never said that.”

You squinted at him. “You sure are showing it though.”

He sighed in defeat, pushing his hair away from his face. “Yes, I missed you. Very dearly. Are you content?”

You jumped on him again, this time high enough to wrap your legs around his waist. Loki almost toppled to the side, again holding you upwards towards him. His hands landed almost purposefully on your thighs, fluttering just slightly over your rear. Your lips met his once more, but you could feel his struggle in wanting to give in, maintaining his balance, and fearing someone would walk in on the both of you.

“Y/N.” He said your name through the corner of his mouth, as much as he could before it became covered in a sloppy kiss. “Y/N. Get off.”

“Come on Loki.” You whispered at him. “I’ve been waiting a really, really long time.”

He raised an eyebrow, noticing the very hazy look in your eyes. “Wait. Norns. You’re in heat, aren’t you?”

You bit your lip, your eyes shifting to the side to avoid his own. You inched close to his ear and began to whisper all of the lewd and inappropriate thoughts you were having of him. You told him how much you had missed his touch on your skin and how it was making you unbelievably crazy the entirety of the week.   You felt his grip tighten on your thighs as you went over detailed accounts of what you to do to him, and what you wanted him to do to you.

“It’s worse than I thought.” Was all he could say, but even you noticed how dry his lips had become.

“Unless, you don’t want to. Then that’s all you have to say.” You said, a part of you knowing it would be hard for him to even resist the temptation.

“Stupid of you to even assume such a thing.” He answered immediately. “You’re heading to your home, are you not?”

You nodded. “I am, but I was thinking, since no one is around here...” Your voice trailed off, nudging your neck at the empty space all around the both of you.

“No.”

“Come on, you didn’t even think about it!”

“I don’t need to. We’ll do it, but not here.” He pulled you off from him again, placing you promptly on your feet. “I’d rather not do my business with you inside this facility, and within this area where everyone has their meals.”

“You’re not at all as adventurous about this as I thought you’d be.” You responded with yet another pout.

“If this is what adventurous means to you, then we both have very different ideals. Besides, I wouldn’t want to tarnish bedding you in such a way.”

“Hmm?“ You hummed, your ears perked up. “You mean, it’s something you really like doing with me?”

“Of course I do.” He responded genuinely, taking you a bit by surprise. “And because it’s something so important to me, I’d rather do it somewhere more private, more intimate. If that doesn’t satisfy you, then perhaps we shouldn’t do it at all then.”

“No, no no!” You interjected, waving your hands at him. “It’s not that at all! Jesus, don’t scare me like that. I’m totally cool doing it at home too, I love it.”

He smirked, a low chuckle coming from his chest. “I’ll admit, it does stroke my ego a bit to hear you day dream about me in such a way.”

“Stop talking and let’s go home. Now.” You urged at him, tugging at his forearm.

“Though it does beg the question at what other things you are into.” He pondered as he padded along with you. “ I didn’t think you were such an erotic human.”

“Keep talking like that and I’m gonna have to shove you in that broom closet.”

[drwcn]

discordance!verse part 8 (1/2):  Yunmeng Jiang and Gusu Lan sit down to discuss damage control. 

in which wwx is lxc’s husband through political alliance, and there is an affair.

[7] | [6] | [5] | [4] | [3] | [2] | [1] [synopsis]  OR see [discordance navigation page] for all installments 

following part 3

When he was a child, the townsfolks of Lotus Pier used to tell tales of the eighteen levels of 地狱 (hell), and that when bad people died, the little demons of the underworld would drag their souls to the lowest pit and throw them into a vat of boiling oil. Jiang Cheng used to scoff and call these stories stupid, but even so, he would shrink back against his da-shixiong and cling just a little tighter onto the back of Wei Wuxian's uniform. Wei Wuxian used to laugh, pat Jiang Cheng on the shoulder and say, "Aiyo A-Cheng, like you said, it's just a stupid story. And besides, only bad people go to hell. We're not bad, so we don't have to worry about it!"

This is a rule unanimously accepted that good people are allowed to reincarnate and bad people are sent to hell to suffer, bad people like murderers and rapists, and kidnappers and adulterers - Adulterers.

If hell is a vat of boiling oil, then maybe the stories are true after all, because for seven days, Wei Wuxian burns.

For seven days, he exists in a place that is neither here nor there. He is disembodied, suspended, and unable to move or speak or see.  

There are flames dancing on his skin and a fire raging from his core through his bones. He cannot scream; he cannot run. He can neither feel nor move his limbs, or know if indeed he still has them. Each breath he takes is liquid heat flooding his lungs. His entire world is airless and yet somehow heavy like lead, suffocating him and crushing him into himself. There is no up no down, no north or south or time or space, only the never ending moment of the unrelenting pain.   Even so, in the back of his mind, where the little boy Wei Ying who grew up listening to the old wives' tales hides, he knows that he deserves every minute of this. His actions have ruined himself, ruined Lan Zhan, and if news of this gets out, he would've brought shame upon all of Yunmeng Jiang. Their First Disciple, Jiang Fengmian's treasured ward whom he favoured better than his own son, turns to be nothing more than a - how did that one disciple put it, as yes - faithless whore.

Wei Wuxian knows that he is not dead. He knows this because though he cannot speak and cannot hide, he can still hear the words of those around him: the disciples guarding his room, the healers changing his bandages, and the elders that come to check on him once a day.

I liked Wei-jun, he's nice to the juniors and outer disciples, but how could he do such a thing to Zewu-jun! -

He's ruined our Er-gongzi, you know it's true -

- loud, brash, annoying. He's not a Lan and he'll never be a Lan - Poor Zewu-jun -

I would have expected better of Lan Wangji.

Humiliated our Sect Master -

If they hadn't caught him with Hanguang-jun, I'd eat my ribbon before I believe something like this -

Betrayed him -

Used Hanguang-jun -

What does Er-gongzi even see in him?

Is it really so hard to imagine? They are both young. The young are often reckless and sentimental.

This can't be Wangji's fault.

It's not Lan Zhan's fault. How could it be? How could any of this be Lan Zhan's fault when all he's ever tried to do is shield Wei Wuxian, to be his friend, his confidant, his shoulder to lean on when he had no one to turn to in Cloud Recesses.

Wei Wuxian knows that to the outside world, he has already been granted more than he should have. A son of a servant married high above his station to the esteemed Zewu-jun, the leading cultivator of their generation, handsome, kind and the best of men. Even in death, Lan Xichen had found a way to miraculously return to him. What more could Wei Wuxian possibly want? How shameless, how greedy is he to want anything - anyone - else? 

And how dare he think that someone like him deserves someone as good as Lan Zhan?

Wei Ying…

Wei Wuxian knows he doesn't deserve Lan Zhan, but he remembers every touch, every smile, every memory, bad, good, or bittersweet. He remembers Lan Zhan's hands, warm and firm around his own, under the table where they sat side by side dredging through tedious paper work, burning the midnight oil. He remembers Bichen glistening under the sun, clashing with Suibian as they duelled in the training ground for the juniors to observe. He remembers the soft gasp that escaped those lips the first he let Lan Zhan undress him in the dark. He remembers, and remembers and remembers, and he doesn't regret. Even if it's wrong, even if it's a crime, Wei Wuxian cannot regret Lan Wangji. Not at all. Not one second of it.

Perhaps he always knew that it couldn't last. Nothing gold ever stayed. Perhaps he always knew this day was coming, but even if he could go back and redo everything, he would choose the same and fall again, and again, and again. Lan Zhan loves him, trusts him, and has given himself to him, and he will not sully Lan Zhan's faith with the ugliness of doubt.

If only he could protect Lan Zhan the way Lan Zhan has always protected him…

The pain of the lashes he can endure, but the guilt of knowing an association with him has possibly tainted Lan Zhan for the rest of his life no pain can compare.

For that, he might've cried, but he's not sure. The fire burns it all away.

On the eighth morning after the discovery of the affair, Wei Wuxian awakens from a dreamless sleep, emerging from the vapours of the fire that has mercifully dwindled. Slowly his eyes open, bringing into sight a ceiling he does not recognize.

A cool cloth is pressed against his neck. He savours the small respite, blinking several times to clear the fog from his eyes. At some point, the Lans must've removed him from hanshi where Lan Xichen initially brought him. Missing from his view is the pale tulle canopy that drapes over the bed he shares with Lan Xichen. The bed beneath him is hard too, more akin to the bed he had as a guest disciple than accommodations befitting either of the Jades.

"A-Xian…"

The cool cloth is replaced with the back of a gentle hand laying against his forehead.

Shijie…?

"Shi-shijie?" His voice croaks, hoarse from disuse. His entire mouth is desert-dry and tastes like death warmed over. How could his sister be here?! Gusu Lan actually allowed her to visit him?! Wei Wuxian has so many questions. He tries to sit up, but pain explodes across his body with even the slightest movement. Swallowing an agonized cry, he collapses back down.

"Don't get up, A-Xian. You've been running a fever for days."

Jiang Yanli's presence brings him a margin of peace and comfort, though he has questions she won't answer. Instead, she washes his face and brushes out his hair and does not say word throughout. Worry draws in her brows tightly, and the tension in her body is palpable.

When she is satisfied with the amount of lotus and pork bone soup she's managed to spoon feed into him, Jiang Yanli holds his hand and tells him that Madam Yu and Yunmeng Jiang's elders have arrived.

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

The situation as it stands is abysmal, Lan Zonghui knows. The public nature of the affair is such that both families are scrambling to save face.

The nine Jiang Elders, dressed in dark maroon, navy and Yunmeng violet, sit opposing them on one side of the room. On their own side, the nine most prominent Lan Elders stare stoically at their counterparts. It would have been poor manners - not to mention cramped - to invite all thirty-three of them to the "emergency family meeting". Nine is more than enough to represent Cloud Recesses, and however the discussion goes, trust is placed upon the nine to come to an arrangement that satisfies the needs and dignity of both families.

…Not that there's much dignity left to salvage. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian's sordid affair is a thing of public knowledge by now.

At the front of the room, Lan Qiren and Yu Ziyuan match each other grimace for grimace, both of equal displeasure. Lan Zonghui isn't sure whether he should be glad or upset that Jiang Fengmian has not deigned it his responsibility to show up in person, instead dispatching his lady to do the dirty work of negotiating for him.

Whether Jiang Fengmian is truly so distraught by his favourite ward's misconduct that he truly took ill or it's just another excuse to avoid facing the inevitable is inconsequential now. Yu Ziyuan - the Violet Spider - is the one they must content with, and though she is not known to favour Wei Wuxian, Madam Yu is quick-tempered, stubborn, and protective of Lotus Pier to a fault.

Whatever she lacks in care for Wei Wuxian personally, she makes up for in her pride for her clan and family.

The Lans opt to comment nothing of Jiang Fengmian's lack of attendance. On their part, Lan Xichen is equally absent. As he is the "offended" party, his presence ought to have been the most needed, but the Elders collectively decided that Xichen's behaviour in the past week has been stranger than strange. Not only was he not upset, but he seemed to have known about it all along and has been passively supporting the development of Wangji and Wei Wuxian's relationship.

Xichen is of the loud opinion that he and Wei Wuxian should be granted an amicable separation and that Wangji should be allowed to marry his divorcé in his stead. If his intent is giving at least one of the Elders a stroke, then he's come pretty damn close.

We've never consummated our marriage. Wangji and A-Xian betrayed the trust of no one. They care for each other dearly and I don't see why they shouldn't be allowed to marry.

What utter nonsense! Where on earth are the youngsters getting such wickedly inappropriate ideas??!

Xichen, he is your lawfully wedded husband, not some whore you picked up off the side of the road that you can easily gift to another!!

Those were angry careless words, not meant to be taken literally, but Xichen had visibly stiffened, the colour draining from his face.

You've bowed before Heaven and Earth, in front of Clan Elders and honoured guests. Even the disciples whisper about you and Wei Wuxian's …encounter in the Cold Pond. We've elected to overlook such an infraction, but now you dare to claim that you two are - are - Who's going to believe you?!

Perhaps, ponders Lan Zonghui, Gusu Lans are not made for love. Each time love finds one of them, it brings with it equal parts tragedy and despair.

Xichen and Wangi are both demonstrating unprecedented impertinence, qualities Lan Zonghui did not think were part of their characters, despite bearing witness to their growth.

Though…this wouldn't be the first time he misjudged a boy he thought he knew.

Wangji's fierceness when he pointed the Nie saber at his family, and Xichen's cold nonchalance towards his Elders' admonishments - it all reminds Zonghui too well of another young Sect Master Lan, twenty something years ago.

"Baiti and I have married. She is my fa'qi*, the woman I will love, cherish and honour for the rest of my life. If anyone in this sect seeks to harm her in any way, they will have to go through me first!"

Lan Cenrong had stood in this very hall, holding the hands of his bride, a woman of immeasurable depth and lethality. Bichen clutched in one hand, she had no explanation to offer in response to the Elders' outrage. Her face was sculpted in stone, and her eyes as cold as ice. The only detail that gave her away was the fingers she laced tightly between her husband's, anchoring him to her side.

Why do you stay?

Once, Lan Zonghui had gone to confront her after the birth of Lan Xichen, supposedly premature but suspiciously well formed and strong.

Can't you see you've won?! No one in this sect would draw their sword against you now. You've murdered one of our own and yet there is nothing we can do in retaliation! Do you really hate Cenrong so much that you would continue to torture him with your existence?! You can leave, we can arrange for you to disappear. You can be free. Just leave Cloud Recesses and return us our peace!

Qiu Baiti was perhaps the most unflappable person he's ever come across.

Lan Zonghui, isn't it? Brave, coming here by yourself.

Rising from her seat, she sauntered slowly towards him. The fingers of her left hand flexed, each knuckle cracking threateningly. She was a beast, and jingshi was her self-chosen cage. Zonghui was not stupid enough to think it could contain her. Even with Bichen confiscated, Qiu Baiti was deadly and terrifying enough for him to take half a step back.

Leave Cloud Recesses you say? Why would I do that? My husband is here, my son is here. This is my home. You don't know me, and you don't know Cenrong half as well as you think. Now leave, you're in my house, and you're starting to irritate me.

After that, the only people who dared to visit her was Cangse Sanren and the small group of female disciples who took care of her living.

Truth be told, it was a relief for their sect when Qiu Baiti died young.

Lan Zonghui refuses to believe even to this day that the murderess felt anything close to genuine affection for the late sect master. Mercifully, her sons were raised mostly without her corruption, though Cenrong had all but ordered Qiren to take them to see her at least once a month. If only the boys knew what kind of a woman she really was. In their minds, she was a gentle, kind soul, but nothing could possibly be further from the truth. Sometimes it frightens the Elders to think that her blood flows in their veins.

On that front, Lan Zonghui must commend Lan Qiren. As uncle, guardian and deputy sect master before Xichen came of age, Lan Qiren had done all he can to curb the influence of the pair of wayward parents on Xichen and Wangji's young impressionable minds. Nonetheless, here they are, twenty years down the road, caught in an another predicament because of foolish sentiments.    

Wangji has their mother's eyes, Xichen their mother's smile, but both of them are without a doubt their father's sons.  

Lan Zonghui resists the urge pinch his nose bridge. He can feel a migraine coming on.

I really am too old for this.

Given his impropriety, Xichen is barred from attending today's conference. He's proven that his priority is no longer aligned with that of his elders or his clan. They already have to deal with Yu Ziyuan's temper today; they could not fend against one of their one throwing them under the carriage.

"Let's not mince words," Yu Ziyuan begins. "You've invited us here, surely you've given this matter some thought. We Jiangs are reasonable people. We are not here to deny anything or to cause trouble, but let me be understood: if your intention is to xiu'fu, I'm afraid we cannot accept that."

Yu Ziyuan is a smart woman. If she allows Gusu Lan to 'xiu' Wei Wuxian then it would be seen to the world as Yunmeng Jiang taking responsibility for this scandal and for Wei Wuxian's shameful behaviour.

One Lan Elder harrumphs.

"He's betrayed his marriage and shared carnal pleasures with another, is that not justification enough for divorce? Not to mention his husband is the Sect Master of Gusu Lan. With all due respect, Madam Yu, the scandal Wei Wuxian has brought to the Lan family is also unacceptable to us."

Indignant, a Jiang Elder counters heatedly, "Yes, you are in fact correct. To lie with another when one's spouse is present is against principles of any good man, but as the old saying goes, you cannot clap with one hand. Gusu's Lan-er-gongzi, Sect Master Lan's own little brother, is a willing and equal participant, is he not? So why then must Wei Wuxian bear the entirety of the blame?"

"Well, Wangji must've been seduced!"

"Does the esteemed Hanguang-jun lack so much sense, self-control, and respect for Zewu-jun that he could be so easily seduced by his own brother in law?! Perhaps he is not befitting his title after all?"

To that the Lan Elders have nothing further to say. They grumble amongst themselves but could not deny the point the Jiangs have raised.

Lan Zonghui glances towards Lan Qiren and sees him meet Yu Ziyuan's sharp gaze across the room. They both know very well that these arguments are pointless. Both families wish for the same thing: to save as much face as possible and to emerge from this storm with their dignity relatively in tact.

To say their predicament is difficult would be an understatement. If Gusu Lan succeeds in pushing for a divorce, then all of Yunmeng Jiang would be implicated by Wei Wuxian's disgrace. However, if Gusu Lan continues to retain Wei Wuxian as husband of their Sect Master, they would be ridiculed by the cultivation world, and Lan Xichen a cuckhold fool.

Somebody has to bear the blame, and the verdict needs to be dealt fairly without prejudice nor bias.

Lan Qiren turns his gaze to the tea leaves in his cup. Yu Ziyuan mirrors his action.

Lan Zonghui sighs. There is only one way out. They know it, and so does he.

After the grumbles of discontent settle down, Madam Yu speaks again, this time more diplomatically. "It is not our intention to put our noses where it doesn't belong, but the dissolution of this marriage cannot be solely on the accounts of Wei Wuxian's adultery since the other party involved is Gusu's own Hanguang-jun.

"Given that Wei Wuxian has married into Lan family, he is one of you. What you do with him, is up to his husband and the Elders. As long as he remains Zewu-jun's legal spouse, with his name recorded in your pedigrees and an honoured spot allotted for him in your catacombs, we Yunmeng Jiangs shall not interfere with your internal business.

"True, he was our disciple and raised at my side. As his maternal presence, I admit I was lacking, but perhaps the Lan Sect can also reflect on some of your own shortcomings. I trust, Lan-xiansheng," she addressed Lan Qiren directly, "that you and the Elders will give both of our families a satisfactory response."

Lan Zonghui shares a genuine look of surprise with Lan Qiren. Surely she is not implying…?

Of course, the Elders had discussed that particular solution amongst themselves, seeing that it is the best method to save both sides, but they did not think the Jiangs would actually agree to it, especially given how close Wei Wuxian is with the ruling family. Though… from Jiang Fengmian's absence perhaps that is already telltale sign. Not to mention if the rumours of Cangse Sanren and Sect Master Jiang are true, then Yu Ziyuan would have her own personal reasons for…

"I hope, Elders, that we understand each other." Madam Yu frowns, her patience wearing thin. "Our clans have enjoyed generations of friendship, and a bigger trial is waiting for us in Lanling. That is more important to the stability and safety of our people than any romantic sentiments."

The reminder of Lanling awakens all parties present from their narrow point of view. Jin Guangshan's secret gathering of Yin Iron is undeniable. The evidence stacks against him and his ousting is nigh. Even his own son and heir has turned against him. Lan Zonghui has no doubt that Jin Zixuan's change of heart has been largely thanks to the influence and persuasion of his wife, whose mother sits before them now. The women of Lotus Pier are not to be underestimated.  

"Madam Yu," Lan Qiren raises his cup of tea in a respectful toast. "We understand and thank you for your sensibility. If you are certain, then we have no objections."

Yu Ziyuan's resolve does not waver. "I am, so let us discuss the details."  

 [2/2 tbc]

Notes:

fa’qi 发妻 - fa = hair, qi = wife. this comes from the saying 结发为妻(夫), which means to bind our hair together as husband & wife. couples will cut a piece of their hair and tie it together with a red string and put it away as a symbol of their unity/marriage. 

[trrriple-rrr]

Gareth Mallory/Female Reader - Drabble

Anon asked: I have this kink where there is a new agent, a young one and she's starting the job and time after time she's into Mallory for obvious reason and there is tension between them 😈

Hope you like it! I wasn’t sure which rating you were looking for so I went with my default setting ;) (which means this is nc17, and shows a bit of a different side of M)

He is everywhere. Every time you turn a corner, step into one of the conference rooms or just out of the restrooms. He is there.

You wish you could just look past him, ignore him. But that would be hard to do even if he weren’t the man in charge of the entire organisation you just started working for.

You met him on your first day here while you were being lead around the building by a young and eager woman. She was smiling too brightly and her voice was a slightly too high, grating on your nerves a little bit, till everything suddenly seemed to disappear around you, fade into the background, when you stumbled into him. Literally.

You hurried after your cheery guide who was walking as fast as she was talking and collided with a strong and hard shoulder.

The curses slipped past your lips before you could stop them. You just somehow managed to swallow down the highly inappropriate choice of words you wanted to throw into the face of whoever wasn’t watching as they were walking around the corner.

But then you looked up and saw his face.

And you knew instantly who was standing in front of you. Of course you did. Tall, lean, imposing stature, impeccable tailored suit, bright blue eyes that seemed to take in everything about you at once and a quirk to his lips which implied that he either was very amused or not at all by what just happened.

As you rubbed your sore shoulder you’d guess it’s the latter.

“Sorry, Sir. I am so sorry.” You managed to say, your voice unusually quiet.

You noticed his beautiful hands as he waved you off and continues on his way. Of course. He had more important things to do than to stand there and talk to the new woman.

Your eyes followed him. Roaming over his body. His long legs, his strong walk. If you’d have watched his arse for a second longer you would have missed the quick glance he threw you over his shoulder. The one that made your face flush and thighs clench.

Since your first unfortunate meeting with him you have seen him every single day. You feel your heart start to beat quicker when you see his silhouette appear at the other end of the hallway, you lick your lips when you see his eyes following you around the room, you feel a shiver run down your spine when you hear his voice, whether he is barking out orders or talking quietly about some necessary paperwork.

51 times. That’s how often you have met him now – not that you’re counting these events, that’s not it at all. You’re just very observant. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself. It’s getting a bit harder to do since you started to think about him outside of work as well.

You blame meeting number 49 for that.

He has walked towards you in the hallway leading to your new office. He wasn’t in any hurry. His gaze finding and holding yours immediately. His fingers flexing at his sides. He appeared larger than usual in this moment. His shoulders broader, his eyes bluer. He was just looking at you, reading your face. A slight smirk playing around his lips.

You held your breath as he came closer and closer. Your mouth went dry. Just a few more steps… When he was close you couldn’t help yourself. You took a deep breath, the scent of his after-shave, filled your nostrils. You swallowed down the involuntary moan bubbling up inside of you. He smells so good.

You were lost in your own paradise when you suddenly felt his fingers brush against yours. A fleeting touch, gone as quickly as it appeared. Your breath hitched in your throat and you clasped your hand to your chest as if to preserve the tingling sensation. His skin was soft. Just a tease. But since then you’ve wanted more.

You wish you had the chance to touch him again, bask in his scent, have him close, see what he is hiding underneath these incredible suits.

It’s difficult to concentrate on anything else when you know that he is in the same building as you are. Maybe in the next room, maybe just walking past your tiny office.

You draw the line at stalking him but you can’t help but wish you’ll see him again soon and feel his hot gaze caressing your skin. Just for a moment…

But so far the day is going slow, you have no reason to leave your desk and he definitely doesn’t have a reason to seek you out. You are too far down the ladder for that to happen.

So you’re almost glad when you get the phone call and the order to get some files from the archive, do some research… the chance to do anything but sit at your desk, losing yourself in daydreams about your superior.

You check and recheck the file numbers on your tablet before stepping into the archive. As you look up and see the many rows filled with shelves and folders you know this will take a while. But you don’t mind. It gives you something to do. And you genuinely like doing the research. For now. While you wait for your chance to prove yourself in the field. But you know you have to start somewhere. It might as well be the archive room.

Your shoes click against the tiled floor as you walk along the shelves, looking for the correct numbers, leading you to the furthest corner of the room.

Your fingertips slide along the edges of the folders as you count numbers in your head but you don’t miss the sound of the door opening and closing. Followed by the noises of someone walking straight down the corridor of shelves. They know where they are going. They know what they want and where to look for it.

You push your shoulders back when the steps become louder. Someone is walking towards you. You don’t doubt it at all. You keep your back turned while using the slight reflection in the metal shelves to see what it going on behind you.

It only takes a few seconds till a figure appears in the reflection. Even in the dull metal gleam you recognize it instantly. You’ve been seeing it everywhere for almost two months, you’ve thought about it every time you close your eyes.

Him.

It’s him.

“Miss.” His voice slides down your back like a caress.

“Sir.” You reply, immediately. Without even turning around. You’re surprised by the sound of your own voice. It’s strong and clear, nothing like your nervously fluttering heart caused by his proximity, makes you feel.

“I seem to keep running into you. Since you ran into me.” He says and comes closer. Soon you can see the tiny polka dot pattern on his navy blue tie and breathe him in again.

“Sorry, Sir.” You say, just because you don’t know what else to say. You refuse to blush and clench your hands into fists at your sides. You don’t trust yourself around him.

“I’m not.” He says, his voice low now, his lips quirking up. “I didn’t mind it then. I don’t mind it now.” He says and his eyes seem very blue as his gaze slides up and down your body.

You bite the inside of your lip, try not to give into the urge to grin back at him. But oh you want to. You want him to know that you feel the same. That you liked the little touches. That you just enjoy seeing him. Hearing his voice.

He raises his eyebrow when he meets your gaze and you realize that maybe you don’t have to say anything at all.

“Sir.” You nod, your voice still strong but lower now. You see him flex his fingers again and hide your smile behind your hand.

“Don’t.” He murmurs and his fingers circle your wrist. His touch is warm and sure. His skin as soft as you remembered it. His long fingers squeeze your wrist, brush against your pulse point. Surely he can feel the effect he has on you now.

His touch lingers. Your heart is racing.

He doesn’t pull you closer. He doesn’t push you away. You feel very aware of every inch of your skin he is touching. Feel lust sizzling through your body, pooling low in your stomach, between your legs.

“Do it. Sir. Please.” A quiet whisper. Your voice filling the growing silence between you. You don’t know what you’re asking for. You just know you’ll lose your mind if he keeps looking at you like this, keeps touching you like this. His thumb now brushing along your palm, leaving a tingling path against your sensitive skin.

You see him wet his lips, your eyes following the movement of his tongue. It nearly sends you down to your knees. So you lean back, feel the supportive shelf in your back.

“Do it.” You whisper again and his eyes go dark. His finger intertwine with yours for a moment. Feeling the callouses and thinking about what caused them nearly makes you moan out loud.

He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t ask what you want. Just licks his lips again. Sees your eyes on his mouth, sees your hands grad the shelf, notices your legs spreading slightly.

And now he’s smiling. Brightly.

Making you breathless and reckless and crazy with want.

Your whole body is thrumming with it.

“Do it, Sir.” Your voice louder, challenging. And he likes it. His eyes are bright as he leans closer for a wonderful moment. Shares your breath. Your heat. His lips so close to yours. So close…

You swallow down your moan.

He goes down to his knees. His expensively clad legs on the tiled floor. His hands on your hips.

You are trembling and you know he can feel it. He sighs, his fingers are sure as he opens the buttons of your trousers, pulls them down. Exposes your skin to the cooler air of the archive room. Goosebumps are spreading out over your skin immediately.

His fingertips slide down your thighs. Along your panties.

You can’t stop watching him.

“Sir.”

The needy, demanding tone in your voice makes him sigh again. His fingers slide between your legs and you gasp, bite your lip, hard, to swallow any further sound. But oh God, you want to scream. Moan. Shout his name.

But you can just hold on, spread your legs as far as your trousers allow. His fingertips caress you through the flimsy fabric. You can feel his warmth, his soft touch. Your eyes slip close.

“More.”  The word tumbles from your lips, before you can stop it.

He groans quietly and complies immediately. It’s such a heady rush you almost can’t handle it. His fingers push your underwear out of the way. His skin against your skin. Heat and wetness. His moan echoing quietly in the room. The sound of his fingertips sliding through your wetness.

You want him.

He knows it. Can feel it. Smell it. His finger slides through your lips, circles your entrance. You push your hips down and feel the tip of his finger breach you.

“Do it.” You gasp. Suddenly his finger is inside you. So fucking good. You curse, clench around it. He starts to move it. Leans his head against your hip. Watches you up close. His finger sliding in and out of you. Pushing, curling. Your legs are trembling.

“Kiss me.” You manage to bite out.

You hear his answering moan, feel his breath brush against your super sentive skin and then his lips are there. On you. Kissing your wetness, sliding along your vagina, up...reach your clit. Close around it while he keeps fucking you with his finger.

You curse loudly. Desire spreading out in your entire body.

His tongue curls around your clit. Again and again. His finger presses in deeper, your juices coat his skin.

He sucks and licks. Wet sounds fill the room. You throw your head back. You can’t watch him anymore. It’s too much. And not enough.

“More. Fuck me.” You whisper and let out a hoarse shout when he does it. Adds another finger. Goes deeper, harder. Hums against your clit. Uses his fingers and tongue to make you lose your mind.

And you are losing it. Quickly. Press against him. Move with him. Demand more and he’s giving it to you. Keeps licking, sucking, fucking.

“Sir!” Your loud moan makes him shudder, press down a hand between his own legs. You see his tented pants, feel his harsh breathing puffing against your skin before his hot lips are back on your clit. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright. His tongue so wet. His hand pressing down harder on his own erection.

The sight alone pushes you over the edge. Add his touch and you don’t stand a chance. You come. Loudly. Shuddering. Surrender to the pleasure that his touch sends through your body, exploding along your nerve endings, setting your whole body on fire like nothing and no one ever did before.

It takes for-fucking-ever till you come back to yourself. Till you realise the death grip you have on the metal shelf. Notice the hard edges digging into your back and your palms.

You pry your fingers lose and look down on him. He is trembling. His eyes closed. His hands clenched into fists, breathing hard. His trousers still tented. He is trying not to come in his pants.

You feel another lustful shiver run through you. His fingers are wet, glistening with… you.

You sigh, blink slowly. Let your fingers slide along his cheek. His jaw. Gently. He leans into the touch. Opens his eyes again.

You smile at him. He nods and takes your hand when you help him up.

“Thank you. Sir.” You murmur and get dressed properly again.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you again. Soon.” He says and pushes his shoulders back. Straightens his suit. Leaves.

Your eyes follow him as long as they can see him.

You don’t know what just happened. With him. Between the two of you. You just know you want it to happen again…

Soon.

[universe-n-3276]

Moments

#2: Jealousy

Sander rarely manifested his emotions.

Because of anxiety, he had learned from an early age, to look calm, even when he felt like he was suffocating inside. There were few people with whom, he felt free to let himself go, first and foremost Robbe, to whom he had voluntarily shown his most vulnerable, saddest, happiest, angriest side. At the beginning it hadn't been easy. He wanted his boyfriend to see him as a strong, dominant, and always in control, human being. Sander was afraid, that, if he let himself go, if he revealed all of his emotions (and he had many of them, too many, too intense), Robbe would have left him right away. Over time, however, the love he had received, made him understand, that showing his weakness, didn’t mean making himself less powerful, in the eyes of the other.

Robbe was more emotional, and he looked at Sander every day with admiration, because of the way he managed to smile despite everything. His mysterious aura never disclosed too much about him. On the contrary, he felt as if everyone could read his thoughts, directly on his forehead, like an open book. In particular, Sander did it ridiculously easily. Robbe liked it, because if struggling, he could completely give himself in to his boyfriend’s care, who knew exactly what to do. Always.

Both were quite possessive. There had been times, in which Robbe had left a more evident mark on his boy's neck, and others in which Sander wanted to lock Robbe up in a room, to keep him for himself only. But it all ended there, neither of them had ever screamed in someone else's face, because of their jealousy.

It was a Saturday, on morning, in autumn, when Robbe and Sander crossed the city to visit a photography exhibition.

"I wish I had half of that photographer's talent."

Sander was frustrated. He loved to draw, but photography had been his first love. When he was 14, his parents had given him his first camera, and from that day, he never stopped taking pictures. He often found himself daydreaming, about the possibility of taking pictures, simply by blinking. Having images to look at in his mind, every time he wanted. He often thought about it, when he was with Robbe, in moments when, grabbing the camera to take photos, would have been totally inappropriate, but being able to capture his boyfriend’s perfection, would have made him feel unbelievably fulfilled.

However, Sander had been stuck for about a year, bored with his own style. He had tried experimenting with Photoshop, with analog photography, with black and white photography, but nothing convinced him. That is why, that morning, they had decided to visit the exhibition of a photographer that Sander loved.

“You are always way too hard on yourself, your photos are amazing! The ones you gave Lucas and Jens were among my favorites."

Although Robbe's words filled him with pride, there was always a voice inside his head, that kept telling him he was not good enough, that he had to give up and start studying to find an actual job. He didn't know, if it was the perfectionist in him, or his anxiety disorder, but, in any case, Sander was convinced, that in his life, nothing would have made him feel as happy as he felt, every time he finished a new drawing, a new painting, or looking for the first time at a photo, he had taken.

"Thanks, but we both know, that, as much as your opinion is the most important to me, you are also very biased."

He gave a sweet smile to his boyfriend and pressed a kiss on his cheek. Robbe laughed, and it took Sander all of his willpower, not to drag his boyfriend somewhere to give him all the kisses. He felt lucky, but he still couldn’t explain to himself, how Robbe could be the sweetest human being in some moments, and turn into the sexiest man alive in others (much more private) occasions.

It was a very cold day, despite the sun shining in the sky. Both began to feel their fingers stiffen, so, by mutual agreement, they decided to stop in a nice café, to have a couple of hot drinks.

Sander opened the door, to let Robbe in, and they were about to wait in line, when he heard his phone ring in his pocket.

“It's Charlotte, I have to pick it up. Can you get me a coffee and something sweet to eat? I'm going to look for a place for us to sit.”

He walked away, while answering the call. The cafeteria was very crowded, but luckily, he managed to find a table, from where he also could see his boyfriend waiting for his turn. He really liked to watch Robbe from afar. He loved to see him simply being himself among others.

“Lot, I can't hear you, I'm in a cafeteria. I'll call you right away, as soon as I get out. "

He hung up the phone, hoping his sister had heard him, and looked up from the screen, then, back at his boyfriend. It was his turn. The barista was clearly giving him bedroom eyes, while Robbe was completely clueless. He still didn’t understand, how his boy could be so unaware of the power, he got on the people surrounding him. Sander had spent years trying to make him understand, how irresistible he was, but the results had been very poor. Sometimes, when they were alone, Robbe realized, how much Sander was clay in his hands, and this drove them both crazy.

At that moment, the guy behind the counter kept throwing him languid looks, while he was trying to decide which dessert to order. Sander would have never, in his entire life, over his dead body, made a scene, but he was feeling the blood boiling in his veins, especially when, as Robbe were approaching their table, he noticed a detail, that almost made him set the whole place on fire.

"Why are you making that face? Did something happen with Charlotte? "

Sander raised his eyebrow even higher, while his boyfriend was sitting in front of him, placing the drinks on the table.

"I see you've been lucky."

His voice was dry. He knew he shouldn't have been upset with Robbe, who was probably oblivious to that whole situation, but he just couldn’t contain himself.

"What are you talking about?"

Robbe frowned, trying to take off his jacket without spilling the drinks, or hitting one of the other customers by mistake.

Sander turned the cup, to show him what the barista had written on it, with a large black marker, and the boy's jaw immediately dropped open.

"What the f-"

He turned himself quickly to look at the counter, meeting the gaze of the phone number’s owner written on the cup.

"Robbe."

He didn't know, why he was reacting in that manner. He had never felt so jealous, so possessive, in his life. He wanted to force the guy to watch them while... no. Nobody was allowed to see Robbe looking like that, he was the only one, who had that honor and he would have done anything, to keep the situation that way. Forever.

"I'm sorry, I swear, if I’d only noticed it- "

This was not how it was supposed to go. It wasn't Robbe’s fault. It was definitely all wrong. He had to put himself back together, regain control of himself and his emotions. He took a deep breath and went back to being, what his boyfriend needed, but of course, without forgetting to take advantage of the situation, to feed his ego, and show the barista his and Robbe’s place.

"Come."

It sounded almost like an order, and that was exactly what it was supposed to be. The boy frowned, but got up anyway. Sander took his hand, making Robbe sit next to him on the booth. He took his boyfriend’s leg under the table, placing it on his own. Sander, actually, wanted to have him sit on his lap, but he knew, it would embarrass the other, and he didn't want his little revenge on the barista, to turn into a punishment for Robbe.

He slowly brushed his fingers on his boy’s thigh, coming dangerously close to his groin, enjoying the way Robbe was trying to mask his reaction.

"What are you doing?"

His boyfriend whispered, resting his head on Sander’s shoulder, who was feeling, by the minute, more powerful and proud. He couldn’t write his name on Robbe’s forehead, but he was making sure, that the entire world understood, who that that boy belonged to.

"What am I doing?"

He smiled, very satisfied, and took the cup of coffee with the infamous phone number written on it. Sander begun to sip the dark liquid, looking the barista in the eyes, while he kept lustfully touching Robbe’s leg. He wasn’t sure, if that slow, but steady movement, could be seen from afar, but he knew, that the way his boyfriend was literally melting on him, didn’t leave much room for imagination. He felt Robbe's lips trace small kisses on his neck.

"Let's go home, please."

At that point, Sander could have been satisfied by himself, anyone else would have been pretty much proud, but not him. He knew, he could push that whole situation, a little closer to its limit. He was feeling Robbe's urge become more and more intense, while sneaking closer and closer, agonizing for more physical touch. By now, their legs were entwined under the table and his boyfriend was really close to finally sit on his lap.

"I want you."

Robbe's voice was almost a whisper, but Sander heard it like a jolt down his spine.

The euphoria he was experiencing, at the time, was absolutely impossible to describe. He pressed his lips against his boyfriend’s. That kiss immediately turned into something deeper and lascivious. He felt every inch of skin tingling, craving Robbe, in a way that had never happened before. He didn't even care about the people, who were probably looking at them. Actually, he really care a lot about then, because they were making that game even more exciting.

Sander suddenly realized, that they wouldn’t make it home, without risking losing the feeling, that was taking over their senses. He was sure, he would have had the best sex of his life, if only he had ridden those sensations until the end, and he had to do it right away.

"Let's go to the restroom."

He managed to say, catching his breath, pulling away from Robbe's lips, who immediately raised his eyebrows.

"Do you really wanna-"

Sander didn't even let him finish the sentence, he needed to touch those delicious lips, so tempting. He ran his thumb over them before kissing them again. He felt completely drunk with love for that boy. His boy.

He stood up and took Robbe's hand, giving him a look, that he knew the other couldn’t resist. He made each one of his moves dramatic and theatrical, to make sure, that his intentions were clear to everyone, especially that someone, who was now staring at them from behind the counter. He drew Robbe closer to him, putting an arm around his waist. Sander took the skin on his boyfriend’s jaw between his teeth, biting it not so lightly. Robbe didn’t shy away from that gesture, on the contrary, he came even closer to him, grasping Sander’s sweatshirt with his small fist.

Robbe looked up, and in that moment, Sander saw the intensity of his boy’s eyes. He was swimming in his exact same wave of lust, that soon would have swept them away.

Somehow, Sander managed to take a quick mental note: sometimes surrender to his own emotions wasn’t bad at all.

[threeletterslife]

06 | Illegirl

→ previous | next

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, kissing/making out, the yikes of being friendzoned

→ wordcount: 5.7k

You've never really thought about it before but now you realize that teachers do have a life outside of school.

They don't just sleep under their big, teacher desks at night and pop up in the morning right before the first bell rings. You know now that teachers, although with so much authority and intellect, are just humans—they have feelings, they have a life and they can also be your friend.

You beam as you look at your teacher as he lectures. A friend he was...

Your eyes shift up and down Jimin's figure and man, was it too sweet for your eyes. He's so good looking. Actually, even that was an understatement.

Your teacher's tight, white button-up shirt fits his figure just perfectly as his tie sit handsomely on his broad chest. His black jeans look strained on his muscular legs, and your eyes start moving up to settle specifically on his thighs. Goddamn.

Jimin pushes up his glasses (that he only wears in a classroom setting) and that motion draws you in to study his ethereal face. Your breath hitches as you marvel at his wide, almond eyes, adorable nose and those soft, plump lips. So beautiful, so surreal, so...

"Y/N? Y/N. Y/N!"

You jump a foot in the air. "Huh, what?" you shout, startled out of your mind. You know you probably sound like some twelve-year-old caught with porn and you mentally scold yourself for sounding so off-guard.

It gets worse when everyone in your math class laughs at you and you can feel your cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

"I asked you a question," Jimin says as he points to a problem on the board.

You've always noticed that your teacher never ever cuts you slack for being his friend; he doesn't show favoritism, preferring to treat everyone quite equally, no matter how bad someone might take an L on his test. You always thought that was honorable of him, but now, you kind of wished he'd leave you alone to die in your ocean of humiliation.

Palms already sweaty from all the unwanted attention on you, your eyes shake as you squint at the problem. It's hard to focus on the numbers. "Oh shit," you mutter under your breath, but you've always been a loud mutterer.

Everyone laughs again.

Uneasy sparks blaze in your stomach. You hate how everyone is watching you, waiting and listening for anything out of place to ridicule your every move.

But you take a deep breath and the math problem seems to clear up in your vision. It's an easy one, thank god.

"22 pi over 7," you squeak quickly, ducking your head under.

"Hm? Speak a little louder, Y/N," Jimin says as he adjusts his glasses, craning his neck towards you as if he couldn't hear you.

Goddammit, Jimin.

"22 pi over 7!" you yell in the stupidest and shakiest voice ever to be heard by mankind.

Finally, the fire in your stomach burns out when Jimin nods. "Correct," he chuckles slightly, his eyes glinting a bit. " Try not to daydream too much, Y/N. Even geniuses need to pay attention."

The fire is back and hotter than ever, except it's not only in your stomach, it's everywhere in your body. So. Fucking. Humiliating.

Trying to cool yourself, you set your head down on the desk, looking at your shoes as if those dirty, black Watt Star Converse were something actually worth looking at for more than half a millisecond.

Damn. I used to never get distracted... What the fuck is wrong with me?

After school, you trudge to your math teacher's classroom, still embarrassed about the incident earlier. When you walk in, Jimin's erasing the whiteboard, his back facing you.

As quietly and quickly as possible, you set your stuff down at your desk in the front of the classroom and sit. I will not initiate conversation. He's gonna hate me for getting distracted during class.

But when your teacher turns around, he laughs warmly, eyes scrunching up in the way that you love most.

"Y/N, why so quiet today?"

You flinch. "Oh, uh, no reason." You always sound so suspicious when you lie to Jimin.

"C'mon, you look disturbed," your friend says as he sets the whiteboard eraser down, abandoning it to walk towards you. "What's the matter?"

Oh, you know, just simply embarrassed that I think my friend, my teacher is hot and got fucking distracted over his goddamn body during his class.

But you can't say that.

"Oh, um..." you trail off, racking your brain for a good excuse. But as smart as you are academically, you're as stupid as a guppy when it comes to making plausible excuses. "I'm on my period."

You cringe the moment the words leave your mouth. Why, Y/N, why the fuck—

You want to crawl in a hole when Jimin raises his eyebrows in question. "Oh," he says. You swear you see his face flush pink as he turns his back towards you again, walking towards his messy desk. "Did it start today?" he asks.

Okay, what now?

Now it's your turn to flush pink; you didn't think Jimin would ask questions about your fake female problems. "Uh, yeah," you lie. "The cramps distracted me." Feigning pain, you try to convincingly grasp your stomach.

Jimin looks up at you from his desk, his silky black hair falling loosely over his twinkling eyes. To your surprise, he's smiling. "It isn't the first time I heard that excuse, Y/N. I know what you're really like on your period, remember?"

Well, shit. You did remember, you had just hoped he didn't... But it was your darn luck that he did. What did you expect from your intelligent teacher?

Face steaming, you huff. "Oh, whatever!"

Jimin only laughs, his eyes nearly disappearing as his full lips open up to a breathtakingly beautiful smile. You gulp. There's no doubt about it.

You're crushing on your teacher; he's much more of a distraction than your period will ever be.

"Operation help Ji—I mean, Mr. Park starts now!" you announce as the members of your math club cheer loudly.

"I don't know what kind of fucked up nasty humans were mean to our teacher, but we're totally gonna show them!" Nicole declares, Sarah and August agreeing aggressively by her side.

"But the question is... how?" Jungkook asks shyly, scooting closer to you.

Very aware of his movement, you slightly squirm, but pretend nothing happened. "I was thinking of a math tutoring club? For anyone who wants tutoring or is failing the class," you say. "And that way, if asshole parents complain again, we'll be able to say that Mr. Park did everything he could to help them—he has a fucking club dedicated to passing his class!"

"Ingenius as usual," August laughs.

"And when would we start this club?" Sarah asks.

You grin, your eyes sparkling with ambition. "If we can, tomorrow."

"No, no, no!" you practically scream, hitting your favorite pencil against a packet of math problems aggressively. "For the last time, you can't divide x to get an answer! You're gonna lose solutions! Do you want to lose solutions? Do you want to lose that A?"

The teen you're tutoring looks about ready to cry but you honestly feel no remorse. She had been constantly checking her goddamn text messages, giggling over quite inappropriate texts about Jimin. It makes you sick.

If she thinks Jimin's so fucking hot, why doesn't she at least try to be good at math?

"Hey, hey, Y/N, calm down," a familiar, silvery voice calls.

Jungkook.

"I'm trying!" you protest, flinging up your hands.

Jungkook laughs, sliding into the chair next to you and looking at the girl you were tutoring.

"What are you having trouble with?" he asks the girl in such a silky, smooth voice that if someone told you he was an angel, you'd believe them.

"Everything!" the dumb girl wails.

You roll your eyes.

"Hey, hey, then let's start from the very beginning, okay?" Jungkook soothes, smiling softly.

Goddamn, I wish I was that patient.

You just start to zone out as Jungkook literally reteaches this girl how to factor. You honestly wonder how she even passed elementary school. But then again, you have to admit you're a little jealous that this girl has so many friends to text. Yet you'd rather be smart than be popular—that's just how you roll.

You pause. But it's not like you don't have friends. You just don't have that many. And I actually like all the friends I have for once...

You don't remember falling asleep when a large, warm hand gently shakes you awake. Your groggy eyes open to see Jungkook, a goofy smile plastered on his face. "Tired, Y/N?" he chuckles.

The girl he's tutoring rolls her eyes. "Hmph. She yells at me for checking my messages but she does something even more unproductive," she grumbles.

Oh no. You did not just wake up to deal with attitude. You're not gonna have it. "Excuse me, but while I'm out here mastering linear algebra, you don't even know how to factor. Guess you had one too many hours of texting, huh?" you snap.

"Dayum," Jungkook mutters under his breath. He casually holds his hand out for a high-five, which you do, extremely dramatically.

"For your information, I know how to factor now," the girl huffs.

"For your information, that's a required skill for fifth graders," you bite back. "In addition—"

"As hilarious as this is," Jungkook interrupts, placing a hand on your arm, "You should calm down. It's a tutoring session, not a roasting session."

You sigh as the girl practically drools over your friend.

"Sure, Jungkook, sweetie. Thank you so much for your help so far," she giggles, flirtingly twirling her hair with her slender finger.

"Yeah, whatever," you reply as you feel Jungkook's hand slipping off your arm, the warm heat now gone.

Jungkook goes back to teaching the girl, oblivious of her seducing attempts. You roll your eyes as you look around the tutoring club—the turnout was better than you expected, honestly. For the first time in a classroom, however, you feel lost. You're not the best at teaching, (to be exact, you're the worst). Your patience is shorter than your height, (which is saying a lot), but everyone else in the math club seems to be teaching naturals.

Feeling a little guilty you can't do much to help out, you start to play with your pencil, twirling it around and doing cool tricks that you've accumulated over the years. But of course three minutes in, your hand loses grip of your writing utensil and it flings off, hitting the ground and starts rolling away from you.

Sighing irritably because you have to physically move to go get it, you stand up from your chair, crawling on the floor to reach your pencil. "Found you, you idiot," you tell your blue oxi-gel when you hear a light laugh coming from above you.

Facing forward, you come face-to-face with a pair of knees covered with smooth, black material. Looking up, you see your teacher smiling down at you.

"Were you actually talking to your pencil?" he teases, face set with a brilliant grin.

"I... uh..."

"God, what is this?" Jimin asks as he looks around his classroom filled with students. "Y/N, are you organizing a cult?" he whispers with a full grin plastered on his face.

"What no!" you protest as Jimin helps you stand up. "It was kinda supposed to be a surprise but..."

"It's a math tutoring club," Jungkook chimes in. "We're helping students reach that A, you know?"

"You guys made a tutoring club for me?" your teacher says, placing a hand to his heart. "I'm about to burst into tears."

You chuckle at Jimin's dramatized actions. "Well, no one deserves mistreatment. Ahem, especially not body objectification," you say as you glare at the girl Jungkook's tutoring. She rolls her eyes.

"Awww," Jimin coos. "You guys are amazing. You know what? We're ordering pizza, my treat!"

People cheer so loud your ears physically hurt.

You sigh out, clutching your full stomach as you slide into the shotgun seat of Jimin's nice car. "Damn... Since we already ate, does that mean we're not eating dinner at your house tonight?"

Jimin chuckles lowly. "Why? Wanted to go to my house?"

Your cheeks blush red as you shake your head aggressively. "No! I was just saying..."

"Well, I mean, we didn't have dessert yet, didn't we?" Jimin suggests, smiling. His fingers softly brush against yours as he reaches for your seatbelt, buckling it for you. "You always forget to wear your seatbelt, Y/N," he laughs. "You never know when I might fuck up on the road."

"Hmph!" you say, crossing your arms over your rapidly being chest. "Stop babying me! I was gonna put it on this time!"

"That's what you say every time," Jimin chuckles as he starts his car with a press of a button. "Now, cupcakes or brownies?"

"Huh? Um, cupcakes?"

"Great! We'll stop by the market to get some ingredients. We're going to learn how to bake!"

Oh no. Why did that sound like a disaster waiting to happen?

But surprisingly, it was a miracle waiting to happen. You stuff your face with aesthetic, black frosting, occasionally biting at the soft, plush bread. "To think we can bake cupcakes but not cook ramen right the first time," you chuckle.

"To be fair, we actually used directions," Jimin says, neatly slicing up his cupcake to eat piece by piece.

You scrunch your nose. "You look like a prince who's too snooty to eat with his own two hands."

"Or maybe I want to be hygienic? You know, unlike you," Jimin teases as you huff in response. Jimin pokes at you, making you turn to him in exasperation.

"What?" you sigh.

"I dunno... I never really got a chance to thank you..."

You raise your eyebrows, thoroughly confused. "I mean, but it was a team effort..." you try to say modestly. "Besides, I didn't do much of the teaching. I mean can you believe this girl didn't know how to fac—"

Jimin rushes in for a hug, knocking the wind out of you—you lose all train of thought, you lose your voice and all sense of functionality. All you can hear is your heart beating wildly in your chest and Jimin's steady breaths against your ear.

"Y/N... Thank you," he whispers, gripping you tighter. "I know it was you who came up with the idea. And I just—I'm so touched. When I told you my problems, I only expected you to listen, maybe, I don't know, sympathize? But you took my problems and found a solution, putting it into action. No one's ever done that for me before... I don't even know what to say..." your teacher trails off, still hugging you tightly. "I'm emotional, I know... But I almost broke down crying when I saw you and your friends hosting this club... all for me."

Your brain turns into mush at Jimin's heartfelt confession, and you can't help but hug him back, burying your face into his shoulder. Words can't seem to make it past your mouth—you can't afford to ruin the moment by saying something completely stupid.

But that's when you feel it. The rapid thumping of a heart. Except it's not yours—it's beating faster than yours.

It's Jimin's.

You walk into Jimin's class slightly earlier than usual, your phone pressed against your ear as you bob your head up and down, staying silent for a few seconds and then talking away.

"I know, I know, I miss you too, Jin," you say just as you slide into your comfortable seat, slipping your backpack off your aching shoulder.

"Yeah, I know, I love you too. Of course, I'm still alive!" you huff, rolling your eyes. "And no! I didn't burn the house down... yet. No, we don't eat ramen daily—we eat it every other day," you protest.

You're quiet again as Jin gives you a piece of his mind.

"Yes, I know ramen's bad for me," you sigh. "Fine. We'll try to make salad or something today. Mhm. Yeah. Yes, I'm in his class right now. No, Jin! I can't just hand my phone over to him, are you out of your mind? You can call him on his phone at some other time."

You sigh loudly as your cousin rambles on the phone. "Wait. What?!" you suddenly shriek, causing a few early-comers in the class to stare at you in shellshock. Quickly lowering your head in embarrassment, you aggressively grasp your phone with both hands. "What do you mean you're going to be away for another month?" you whisper angrily. "Are you serious? Why does the drama team have to be so good?"

Jin chuckles on the line as you pout. "I know, congrats and all but you've been away for too long. Stop teasing me, I just miss you!" you huff.

Your cousin attempts to explain himself as you sit through it all, nodding your head occasionally. "Okay, then," you say in a sad, defeated tone. "I guess, good luck... Anyways, I've got a test this period, gotta fly." You pause, frowning. "Of course I studied! Who do you think I am?! Yeah, well thanks, I'm pretty confident. Mhm. Yeah. Have fun. Love you too. Yup. Bye." Smiling softly, you end the call with your cousin, slipping your phone into your backpack to replace it with your lucky pencil and eraser. There, now you're completely ready for the math test.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jimin, watching you. When he catches your sight, he gives you a small smile paired with a discreet thumbs-up. Your heart flutters.

Gosh darn diddly dang.

Ever since that night you felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, you can't help but wonder if maybe, possibly, hopefully, you're not in a one-sided crush. It was pretty plausible Jimin had always been so caring because he liked you back—either that or he majorly friendzoned you.

The annoying school bell blares, throwing you out of your thoughts, and as if exactly on cue, your teacher stands up from his desk, taking graceful steps to the front of the class. He clears his throat to gain the attention of still-rowdy students. "I hope everybody's prepared," Jimin says as he shifts from the weight of stacked tests. "If you studied polar curves as I said, you'll be fine for the unit test."

A low murmur fills the class as your peers start to panic.

"What the fuck is a polar curve?"

"Shit, I don't even know what unit this is!"

"Definite integrals, you shithead."

"Well goddamn, I'm gonna fail again."

You cock your head. Yeah, definite integrals might be challenging at first, but they weren't hard—it just required a lot of practice. But something told you most of your classmates didn't even know how to spell 'practice.'

As Jimin passes the tests out, you hear students groan from their first glance of questions.

"No noise, no talking!" your friend reminds his students. "If you need extra scratch paper, pencils or erasers, they're up here in the front; you know the drill. Good luck to you all!"

But you can barely hear your teacher as you're already racing to finish up a problem on the exam. You've figured long ago that Jimin's test questions were always in order from hardest to easiest—which explains why most kids rarely finish. You, on the other hand, learned to immediately flip over your tests and work your way from the back to front.

You don't hear anything, nor do you see anything except for the all too familiar graphs and curves printed out on white paper. Your favorite pencil flies across the exam faster than your mile time, and soon, you're finished.

Wiping your sweaty and cramped hands on your jeans, you look up at the clock in the front of the classroom. You've finished at least twenty minutes early. You sigh softly. I don't feel like checking answers.

Almost instinctively, your eyes glance at your teacher's desk—it was starting to become a habit to look at him. But also, you wanted to see if he was grading the math tests from earlier periods. Except, he most clearly wasn't.

Why? Because he was looking at you. And your eyes meet. Electricity courses through your veins and you swear your heart stops beating for a few seconds. You can't hold the gaze as you quickly turn your head, releasing a breath you didn't know you had held.

Goddamn. Now, this is awkward.

Trying to shake off the awkwardness, you take a small breath and grip your pencil in your hands again. Maybe it's time to check answers.

Except—except, you can see out of the corner of your eye, your teacher still watching you. It wasn't a creepy stare though, no. It was like a handsome prince lovingly admiring his beautiful princess. Well, you were no beautiful princess, and though Jimin might be handsome, he was no prince. But still. His gaze made you feel... secure and even admired. Your heart flutters in your chest.

Why is he watching me?

You're too scared of the answer to even possibly ponder it.

So, sighing quietly, you use all your willpower to pretend like your teacher is not watching you as you cross your legs and tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You give your lucky pencil a nice squeeze. It's time to check answers.

"Did you know you frown when you concentrate?" Jimin asks as he does the dishes, diligently washing a bowl that had been previously filled with a healthy salad.

You sit on the kitchen counter, making some tea as you cock your head. From all that watching, he would know all of my stupid behaviors when it comes to test-taking. But you feign ignorance. "How would you know?"

"Well, not to sound weird but sometimes I watch my students take their tests," Jimin says as he dries his wet hands on a nearby towel, then sauntering over to sit next to you on the kitchen counter.

Your heart falls. So I'm not special. He watches everyone.

"No, not all of my students... I only ever watch you," your teacher admits as he scratches the back of his neck in what seems like slight embarrassment.

Your heart leaps in your chest. You don't know how to pirouette, twirl, turn, but your heart was surely doing it at the moment. Was this it? Was he confessing? Were you not in a one-sided crush?

"It's because I care for you," he starts awkwardly. "I mean, don't you tend to watch things you care for? Just to see if they're alright? I dunno..."

Ohohoho, you have no idea.

You nod enthusiastically. "Mhm, of course." Your lips stretch out into a large smile—you're unable to control it. You feel warmer than the cup of tea in your hands. "So you truly care for me?" you tease slightly, casually nudging Jimin.

He nudges you back, laughing. "Of course, Y/N, you're like a best friend to me."

Your eye twitches slightly, your smiles wavers and vanishes and you don't feel as warm anymore.

Well shit, you were friendzoned.

Smiling in accomplishment, you stretch back from your seat, mentally celebrating the finishing of your homework. Your blasted teachers had given you some extra weekend work, but jokes on them, you finished it all in—you glance at your watch—seven hours.

Wait a minute. Seven hours?! You do a double-take, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand and polishing the glass of your watch. The delicate, silver hands still pointed all signs that it was indeed, 10 pm.

Well fuck. I've literally been at school seven more hours than I should've. I've been at school for practically 15 hours! That's more than half of the hours in a day—I spent approximately 63% of the whole day at school!!! And even worse, I mISSED DINNER!

You take deep breaths to calm yourself, immediately looking up to see—no surprise—Jimin working hard at his desk. His eyebrows were scrunched up cutely, and he was biting his pink lips in concentration. The sight of him instantaneously calms you down.

But then you notice Jimin looks frustrated, stressed even. You always admire him for taking care of his own problems, yet sometimes you wish he'd learn to burden others with his dilemmas.

Slowly and quietly, you creep up behind your teacher, looking over his shoulder. "Need any help, Mr. Park?" you whisper in his ear, a small, teasing smile plastered on your lips.

Jimin jumps slightly, turning around to look at you. His serious look is replaced with a reciprocated bright smile. He flutters his eyelashes and runs his fingers through his silky hair, refusing to break eye contact with you. "Oh c'mon no one's around," he says, chuckling. "Jimin will do."

"Yeah, no shit no one's around," you pout slightly, casually placing your chin on Jimin's shoulder. Ever since he majorly friendzoned you, you have to admit it was easier to have physical contact—though your heart beats wildly in your chest every time the two of you touch.

"Hmm..." your teacher hums, twirling his red correcting pen. "It'll take just a bit more... Is our little Y/N bored?" he asks as he reaches out to mockingly pat your head.

You groan dramatically.

"What time is it?" Jimin asks absentmindedly, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"10," you mutter lazily, wanting to doze off with your face up against Jimin's warm neck.

"WHAT?!" your teacher shouts, shifting suddenly to grasp your arms and bring your whole body in front of him. He even tugs you forward, closer to him. Your heart is already having its own mini explosions, not being able to comprehend such closeness from your ultimate crush.

"Why didn't you tell me it was this late, Y/N?" Jimin cries. "Shit, I'm so sorry, I made you wait so long! God, I lost track of time!"

You just shrug, although a bit surprised at his outburst. At this moment, you're just worried Jimin'll hear the aggressive thumping of your poor heart—it can't take this anymore. You're definitely not built for unrequited love. "It's all good," you say, trying to smile calmly. "It's no big deal, really."

Apparently, your stomach thinks otherwise as it lets loose a large growl, much to your horrification. "Oops," you whisper.

At that, Jimin runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. "Fuck, we've been here for seven hours, Y/N, it is a big deal!" He grabs both of your hands, taking you by surprise. "We skipped dinner! I swear to god, Jin will kill me if he found out!"

You giggle. It was slightly amusing to watch Jimin fret so much. "What if we don't tell him?" you whisper mischievously, leaning forward. You're trying so, so hard not to scream in the utter joy that your crush is literally holding your hands right now.

Nope, I'm not going to acknowledge that at all, you tell yourself dutifully.

Now you're waiting for Jimin to answer, to say something funny, or witty as usual. Yet, he doesn't. Instead, he's actually quite silent—it doesn't seem normal. You take a peek at his face to make sure he doesn't look sick or anything, or maybe it was just a dumb excuse you made up to check his ethereal features out.

That turned out to be a big mistake.

You peer into Jimin's eyes, only to catch them looking at your lips. His eyes flutter back up to yours, and now the two of you are staring at each other. Your eyes speak a language only the two of you can understand.

His eyes tell you to inch closer to him, to part your lips.

Your eyes tell him to tug you into his lap, an all too familiar action. He doesn't let go of your hands.

You can feel his breath, hear his breath.

Hell, you can hear his heart. And you're not mistaken—you swear on your own life that you hear the quickened pounding.

And still, you're staring right into his soft, but slightly hooded eyes—never breaking contact. You're so close. So, so close to him, the closest you've ever been.

He slowly, tantalizingly slowly leans in, almost to give you a chance to back out. Oh, hell no. You're staying.

His beautiful, breathtaking face is so close that your eyes are almost crossing to meet his. Then, he closes his eyes just as he closes the minuscule gap between the two of you.

Your lips meet.

You don't know how something can go by so quickly and slowly at the same time. Each movement of your connected mouths is so languid, so relaxed, yet quick, but victorious fireworks are exploding behind you.

Straddling Jimin, you feel his body heat, your bare legs chafing against the smooth material of his slacks. It's so close to heaven that it is.

He works his magic, lips pulling and parting at the precise moments, his tongue finding its way into your waiting mouth. You can barely function from the heat of the moment, but you realize that you are glad he doesn't taste like beer this time.

Jimin sweetly squeezes your hands that are encompassed in his, leaning back slightly for both of you to breathe. Immediately, your eyes are open, and they lock onto his. But as if in a time restraint, both of you hurriedly shut your eyes again and lean in to meet each other's lips once more.

It's euphoric, really.

And for the first time in your life, you get to feel what physical affection is like. This one's not a lustful, drunken kiss, it's so much more than that. You put your heart in this, and you hope Jimin did the same. It surely felt like it.

With one last, sweet and soft, lingering kiss, your teacher, crush and friend leisurely pulls away. You almost lean forward to follow his lips—you guess you miss them on yours that much.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Jimin's hooded ones.

Goddamn. You don't know how to feel, what to say, what to do, what to think. Your hands are still tightly enclosed in his.

"Oh..." you breathe out, hoping Jimin would say something for you, anything. But he doesn't. He remains silent. It's so not like him.

Regret starts to pour into your body, coursing through your veins. It feels like poison. You can feel yourself wilt, as you realize—it was still one-sided, Jimin had merely been caught up in the heat of the moment, again.

"Fuck," you whisper, mostly to yourself. "Fuck," you say louder, tears starting to well up in your eyes. Jimin loosens his grip on your hands, and you slide them away, the warmth all gone. You search for your teacher's face for anything, any sign that he was okay with what both of you had just done. But again, nothing.

"Oh my god. What have we done?" you mutter, looking down and away. You were yet to slide away from Jimin's lap, but you couldn't bear to move away from that sort of comforting warmth.

"Shit, Y/N," Jimin breathes. It's the first phrase he says after the... well, kiss. "I'm so sorry," he mutters, his hand fluttering around your face to cup your cheek, but you flinch away. Goddammit, Y/N, why?

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, Y/N," Jimin whispers, he tugs his hand back to his chest. "It was a mistake! I didn't mean it. Oh god, don't tell Jin." He notices you're still on his lap and jumps up, making you fall down onto the cold, classroom floor—you're too shocked to react much. "God, I'm so sorry!" He tries to help you up, but you shake your head and stand up on your own.

"Y/N. I'm so sorry. It was a mistake," Jimin repeats. "It really was."

Your head is spinning, and you don't know what to say, or do, for that matter. "Then, a mistake it was," you finally manage to say, your voice a bit shaky. "Can we go now?"

I made out with him again. And he wasn't even drunk this time.

You repeatedly have that thought, over and over and over again. You can't seem to get the feeling, the sounds, the sight out of your head. You'd given your all into that little kiss, but Jimin deemed it was merely 'a mistake.'

That didn't hurt at all, nope, not at all.

You're quite good at lying to yourself. Because you know that hurt you a lot. God, I'm so humiliated. You just want to roll up in a small ball and throw yourself into a deep, dark corner. But you can't. Unfortunately, that shit is only figurative.

Sighing, you take a slight peek at Jimin in the driver's seat. His face is completely emotionless, which makes you worry.

We just ruined a perfectly good friendship, goddammit.

You're dropped off at your house; no words are exchanged between you and Jimin, you don't even turn back to give him a parting wave (like you usually do). Unlocking your front door, you quickly walk inside, slumping down to the floor immediately. With your back leaning heavily against the door, you bury your face in your hands.

Things had been going so well. Life had been going so well.

Now it seemed like you lost your best friend—who knows what more you might lose?

—previous | next

—masterlist

[chloelucia13]

Chapter 5: The Flea and the Acrobat

Pairing: none of the moment (currently Jonathan Byers x platonic!Henderson!reader)

Prompt:  You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seems that way until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: The plan the three of you created was solid, and you all thought you were prepared to kill whatever took Will and finally bring him home. Things never go how they’re planned, though, do they?

Warnings: a little angst, a little fluff, language, violence (finally!!!), horror elements, gore

Word Count: 3720

A/N: New part! I hope you guys enjoy! As always, the tag list for this series is open!

Catch up: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

As soon as you had settled down onto your bed, a knock at the front door made you get back up.

You yanked the door open after shooing Mews away, letting out a huff. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, however, when you saw who was at your door. “Jonathan. What’s going on?”

Jonathan let out a sigh. “Lonnie is at the house,” he explained gruffly, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“What?” You shook your head slightly. W-Why? Did he do something to you?”

He shook his head. “He’s just... There. I’m guessing for the funeral, but...”

“That’s bullshit.”

Jonathan nodded in agreement, pursing his lips. 

“Well, do you want to stay the night here? Or do you want me to go over there?”

“No, no. It’s okay. I just... Needed to get out for a second.”

You nodded slowly, stepping to the side to let him in. “Did he say anything to you?” you questioned as you both walked back to your room.

“Said that mom is sick. That I’m pushing her over the edge. Told me to behave at the funeral tomorrow.” He huffed, sitting down on your bed. “Said that I should take down my Evil Dead poster because it was ‘inappropriate.’”

“God, what a fucking douche bag,” you grumbled, flopping down onto your bean bag chair. “He’s telling you to behave? And that you’re pushing your mom over the edge?” Your face felt hot, hands beginning to shake. “Fuck him!”

He sighed, tugging on the loose strings of your comforter. “It’s like he wasn’t the one who came home drunk every night and then left us to fend for ourselves.”

“He’ll be gone soon, trust me. Either your mom is gonna kick him out or...”

“Or?”

“Or I’m gonna kill him.”

He let out a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t kill him. He’s not worth the effort or the prison time.”

You laughed along with him, standing up and walking over to him. “Yeah I guess you’re right.” You sat down next to him on the bed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “... I’m scared, Jonathan.”

He took your hand in his and traced his fingers along the lines on your palm. “Why are you nervous?”

You shrugged slightly. “What if...” You shook your head. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

He sighed and pulled away slightly, touching your chin to tilt your head up so you could look him in the eye. “Don’t say that. Your fears aren’t stupid.”

You offered him a small smile before taking a deep breath, gathering your emotions. “What if... Whatever took Will and Barb... What if it takes one of us? Takes me? I mean, I’m no different from them, and we’re actively hunting the thing that took them. It can take me just as easily.”

Jonathan’s hand left your chin, grabbing onto your other hand and holding them tightly. “I’m not gonna let that happen. I’m gonna be right behind you the whole time. Nothing bad is gonna happen, I promise.” 

***

You had dreaded getting ready that morning, both because you had to get up early on a Saturday and you had to actually put effort into your look.

You woke up at 8 and trudged to the bathroom, pulling out your mom’s curling iron and getting to work.

It had taken about an hour to get your hair perfect, not too curly but just curly enough that it looked like you made an effort. You sprayed a tiny bit of hairspray and applied some light eye shadow, mascara, blush, and chapstick in the mirror.

Afterwards, you slipped on the black button-down dress that sat in the back of your closet, unworn until that moment, along with your pair of combat boots.

Once you were finished, you stepped out into the living room where your mother and Dustin were waiting. 

“You own a dress?” Dustin remarked, half shocked and half teasing.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “God, shut up,” you grumbled.

“You are not wearing those combat boots. There’s a pair of flats in my closet, go put them on,” your mom complained.

You sighed and grabbed your keys. “It’s fine. We’re gonna be late!”

***

The ceremony extremely long, and your feet were aching the entire time (thank god you wore your combat boots). The pastor droned on and on about faith and God and whatnot, placing bible passages between every other sentence.

You stood behind Jonathan, your hands resting on his shoulders and habitually smoothing down his hair, anything to make sure that the both of you didn’t drift off. You kept your eyes on the patch of grass under your feet, unable to look at the small coffin just feet from you. Even if Will’s real body wasn’t in there, the thought of him being dead and stuffed into the ground for the bugs to eat made you nauseous.

As soon as the last flower was tossed on top of the coffin, you and Jonathan hurried out of the crowd after accepting a few weak condolences. Nancy lingered behind for a moment to avoid drawing suspicion. 

“I never knew you wore dresses,” Jonathan voiced as you two walked towards the chapel. 

You scoffed. “God, that’s the third time today-” you began.

“You look nice. Pretty.”

A blush rose to your cheeks and a small smile crept onto your lips. “Thanks.”

As soon as you felt that you were far enough away, the three of you cowered behind a fenced-off gathering of headstones. Jonathan tugged out a folded up paper from his coat pocket, unfolding it as you all sat down on the dead grass. on the paper was a map of the area where Barb and Will disappeared. “This is where we know for sure it’s been, right,” Jonathan explained, showing you and Nancy the map.

“So that’s-” Nancy started, pointing at one of the areas marked with an x.

“Steve’s house.” Jonathan pointed to another x. “And that’s the woods where they found Will’s bike.” He pointed to the last x. “And that’s my house.”

“It’s all so close.”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean, it’s all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is... It’s not traveling far.”

Nancy looked at him. “..You want to go out there.”

He nodded. “We might not find anything.”

“I found something.”

“But if we do see it,” you spoke up, “then what?”

Jonathan sighed, looking off into the distance for a moment before looking back at you and Nancy. “We kill it.”

He shot up all of a sudden, not even waiting for you and Nancy before hurrying over to the parking lot. You and Nancy shared a look before chasing after him, worry immediately settling in your chest when you saw him start to pick the lock for Lonnie’s car. “Jonathan, I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you voiced when he was in earshot, not wanting to shout and draw attention. “What are you even doing?”

He yanked the passenger door open and sat down in the seat, getting to work on the glove compartment. “Just give me a second,” he huffed. After jiggling his blade in the lock, it came undone and he pulled the compartment open. He sifted through the contents before pulling out a pistol and a box of bullets, quickly examining them before stuffing them in his pockets.

“Are you serious?” Nancy ridiculed, jaw dropping.

“What? You want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?”

“Jonathan, we’ve just crossed into illegal territory. If Lonnie finds out, he’s gonna sue you for everything you have!” you whisper-yelled, glancing around to make sure no one was looking.

“And that’s why he won’t find out.” He hopped out of the car and slammed the door shut.

“This is a terrible idea,” Nancy argued.

“Yeah, well, it’s the best we’ve got.” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to stay calm. “What? You can tell someone, but they’re not gonna believe you. You know that.”

“Your mom would.”

“She’s been through enough-”

“She deserves to know!”

“Yeah, and I’ll tell her. When this thing is dead.”

You let out a huff and crossed your arms, nodding once. “Fine,” you grumbled.

***

You met Jonathan at the small makeshift shooting range that Lonnie had set up years ago. The cans were rusted and the logs were rotted, but that didn’t seem to bother Jonathan, who was trying his hardest to shoot anything other than the dirt.

“Don’t waste all the bullets, Johnny Boy. We’re gonna need them eventually,” you teased. flashing him a smile.

He let out a chuckle and dropped his arm to his side, turning to face you. His eyes immediately glanced down to the machete you decided to bring with you. “Where did you even find that?” he asked incredulously.

“I stole it from Dustin’s room. Pretty badass, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re gonna stab one of us from swinging it.” 

You rolled your eyes and hummed. “But at least I’ll hit something, Byers.”

“Well played.” He reached his hand out and you handed him the blade. He examined it closely, poking the tip in the ground a few times before handing it back to you.

You took it from his hands and sat down in the dirt, watching as he sat down across from you. “Can I share a theory I have?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“What if the area that this creature is appearing in... What if it’s a ley line?”

“What’s a ley line?”

“It’s these lines that supposedly align prehistoric monuments and things like that. But it’s supposed to bring along energy. Maybe this area is on a ley line, and it’s bringing along this extra energy that led to all this weird stuff happening and this... thing.”

“I mean, it’s possible.”

You let out a sigh, tracing the tip of the machete in the dirt and creating random doodles. “The problem is, if it was on a ley line, these weird things would’ve been happening for a long time. It doesn’t make sense for it to randomly start happening now.”

You two sat in silence for a moment, nearly jumping out of your skin when you heard footsteps approaching. You jumped up from the ground and pointed your blade at the source.

“Jesus!” Nancy exclaimed, holding her hands up in the air, her bat dropping to the ground.

“Sorry, just a little... Jumpy,” you sighed, lowering the machete back down to your side. “Hopefully you don’t drop your bat when there’s an actual threat,” you teased, picking it up and handing it back to her.

Meanwhile, Jonathan had returned to the metallic targets, firing at them but never hitting them.

“You’re supposed to hit the cans, right?” Nancy hummed, stepping closer to him.

He chuckled. “No, actually, you see the spaces between the cans? I’m aiming for those,” he joked, a small smile on his face.

“Ah.” She shrugged off her shoulder bag, tossing that and her bat alongside your things. 

“You ever shot a gun before?”

She scoffed. “Have you met my parents?”

“I’m surprised your dad doesn’t have one hidden away in his bedside drawer, just in case the commies come for him,” you teased, nudging her shoulder with yours.

Jonathan chuckled, emptying out the shells into his hand. “I haven’t shot a gun since I was ten. My dad took me hunting on my birthday. He made me kill a rabbit.”

“A rabbit?” Nancy voiced, concerned.

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me more of a man or something. I cried for a week.”

“Jesus.”

“What? I’m a fan of Thumper.”

“I mean your dad.”

“Yeah. I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point. but... I wasn’t around for that part.” He quickly loaded six bullets into the chamber and cocked the gun. Nancy reached her hand out, offering to try, and he handed it to her with no hesitance. “Uh, yeah. Just point and shoot.”

“I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.”

“They must have married for some reason.”

“My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family...”

You began to zone out at that moment, your own thoughts that you were too scared to voice swarming in your mind. Your tongue was literally in-between your teeth, trying your hardest to speak your mind.

You nearly bit through your tongue when Nancy shot the gun, the bullet connecting with the can and making it fly to the ground. Your thoughts scattered like startled birds, and you blinked your eyes a few times to get yourself focused back into the present.

“Y/N?” Jonathan voiced, his hand touching your shoulder, making you jump. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m good.”

***

The tip of your nose and your fingers felt numb as you walked, the cold effectively chilling them to the point where they were bright red. Thoughts of regret continuously popped in your head, telling yourself that you should have stayed home instead of freezing your ass off in the Indiana woods.

“You never said what I was saying,” Nancy voiced, tearing the blanket of silence.

“What?” Jonathan responded, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yesterday. You said I was saying something and that was why you took my picture.”

“Oh, uh... I don’t know.” he was silent for a moment, pondering. “My guess... I saw this girl, you know, trying to be someone else. But for that moment, it was like you were alone, or you thought you were. And, you know, you could just be yourself.”

Nancy was silent for a moment. “... That is such bullshit.”

Jonathan stopped in his tracks for a moment, nearly making you run into him, before he began walking again. “What?”

Nancy stopped, prompting everyone to stop, as well. “I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him-”

Jonathan sighed and stomped forward. “You know what, just forget it. I just thought it was a good picture.”

Nancy followed behind him, forcing you to keep up with them. “He’s actually a good guy.”

“Okay.”

“Yesterday, with the camera...” She rushed to catch up with him. “He’s not like that at all. He was just being protective.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” He huffed and attempted to storm off. 

“Oh, and I guess what you did was okay?”

“No, I-I never said that.”

“He had every right to be pissed-”

“Okay, alright. Does that mean I have to like him?” Jonathan stopped and turned to face her, which gave you some time to catch up to them.

“No.”

“Listen, don’t take it so personally, okay? I don’t like most people, he’s in the fast majority.” He huffed and turned on his heel to walk away once more.

“You know, I was actually starting to think you were okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was thinking ‘Jonathan Byers, maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.’“

“Well, I was just starting to think you were okay.”

“Oh-”

“I was thinking ‘Nancy Wheeler, she’s not just another suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales and they live out a boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac., exactly like their parents who they thought were so depressing but now, hey, they get it.’“

“God, can you guys grow up for once in your goddamn lives!” you finally screamed, making them both jump and turn to you. “If you guys had forgotten what the point of this whole fucking thing is, it’s to find Will and whatever that thing is that took him. Can you guys just deal with each other for one fucking night!”

“Y/N-” Nancy began.

“And at least you guys know who your dad is, because I sure as fucking hell don’t!” Tears welled in your eyes and you looked up at the sky to keep them from falling.

They were both silent, eyes glued on you as you fell apart. “Y/N,” Jonathan voiced this time.

You cast your gaze back down to the ground, shaking your head slightly before stomping away, tears slipping down your cheeks.  

***

The sun had already set, leaving the woods completely barren of light, save for your tiny handheld flashlights you all carried.

None of you had spoken a word since the blow up, which happened about 2 hours ago. You could feel the dried tear tracks lingering on your cheeks, but you didn’t dare wipe them away to show Nancy and Jonathan that you had been crying.

You nearly collided with Nancy when she suddenly stopped, almost unnoticed by you due to your lingering stare towards the ground. 

“What, are you tired?” Jonathan sighed, turning to you two.

“Shut up,” Nancy commanded, glancing around nervously.

“What?”

“I heard something.”

Suddenly, a sharp whimper pierced through the air, sounding as though it was coming from only yards away.

Your brows furrowed in thought for a moment before turning towards the sound and walking that way, not waiting for Nancy and Jonathan. The whimpering grew louder and more persistent with each step, causing fear to brew in the pit of your stomach.

As you shone your flashlight around, something reflective sparkled under the light, in the same area that the whimpering was coming from. Gripping the handle of your machete tightly, you made your way over to the source, your jaw dropping in horror when you finally came across the sight of a wounded deer laying in the brush.

“Oh, god,” Nancy choked out, all of you focusing your light on the wounded animal.

Slowly, you all knelt down in front of it, trying to avoid scaring it.

“It’s been hit by a car,” Nancy voiced.

You shook your head, gently reaching out and pointing at the deep cuts along its side. “A car doesn’t leave bite marks like this. Something attacked it,” you explained, gingerly gliding your fingertips along its un-wounded leg.

“We can’t just leave it.”

You nodded, bile rising in your throat as you pushed yourself to your feet. “It hasn’t lost enough blood for it to bleed out quickly.”

Nancy stared down at the pistol in her hand, then looked back at the deer.

“I’ll do it,” Jonathan voiced, holding his hand out.

“Jonathan,” you sighed, reaching out and touching his shoulder for a moment.

Nancy hesitated. “I thought you said-” she began.

“I’m not nine anymore.” He took the gun from her hand and they both rose to their feet, stepping back next to you.

You held back a sob and slowly turned around, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the gunshot.

Suddenly, Nancy and Jonathan jumped back in horror, Jonathan tightly grabbing onto your arm.

“What happened?” you asked, spinning around to look at the deer, only to see a bloodied patch of grass where it once laid.

“Something took it, something grabbed it,” Jonathan rushed out, letting his hand fall from your arm, fingers grazing against yours for a split second.

“Could it have been a bobcat? Or a wolf?” 

He shook his head. “It was too quick. There’s no way.”

You let out a sigh and gulped, tightening your grip on your machete before walking forward, following the bloody trail left behind.

“Where’d it go?” Nancy voiced, glancing around quickly.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan sighed. “Do you see any more blood?”

“No,” you huffed, shining your flashlight around. “It just... Stopped.”

Jonathan nodded and turned around, going the way you just came from. You and Nancy searched for more blood, slowly walking along the line and glancing forward at the large tree in front of you.

“Nancy,” you whispered, nudging her and gesturing at the base of the tree, which appeared to be dripping with something blood-like.

“What the hell is that?” she questioned, both of you crouching down and examining the cavernous and bloodied hole. 

“Sometimes animals store their food in tree trunks, but the animal doesn’t just... Disappear after.” You sighed and got down on your hands and knees, slowly inching into the tree.

It looked as if the hole in the tree continued forever, with no clear end in sight. With a sigh, you scooted forward, trying to keep the contents of your stomach from coming up at the awful smell of the odd substance that coated the insides of the tree, reeking of spit and gore and rot. Nancy followed close behind you, her gags and gulps audible.

You had finally reached what appeared to be an exit, covered by an odd membrane-like barrier. You poked the tip of your blade through it and tore it open, slipping through the new opening and coming out on the other side, feeling as if you were just born again.

Nancy came out right behind you, both of you immediately rising to your feet and glancing around, your view slightly impaired due to your flashlight which now began to flicker.

The air seemed thicker, somehow, and odd ashy particles floated around the air. Everything appeared grayer and dingier, and odd purple vines covered the forest floor and the trees.

“Where are we?” Nancy whispered, to which you could only respond with a shake of your head. You stepped forward, holding your machete out in front of you.

A loud snarl sounded to the right of you, both of you turning to view the source.

An odd, gangling and pale creature stood hunched over, feasting on the remains of the deer that you had found earlier. You covered your mouth, feeling Nancy slowly step back.

A twig snapped underneath her feet.

The creature turned to you two, letting out a horrifying roar. He had no eyes, no face, just five petals of skin flared out, covered in rows of sharp teeth. You both let out screams and turned the other way, sprinting as fast as your bodies would allow to get as far away from the creature as possible.

As your heart pounded in your ears, you could hear the faint echo of Jonathan’s voice screaming for Nancy.

[scducers]

 BASICS.

full name: danielle wilson

nicknames (if any): if she introduces herself as dani, call her that. if not, best stick to her full name.

gender / pronouns: cis female, she/her

age: twenty-two

major: fourth year art student (with a focus on photography), minor in film studies

PERSONALITY.

traits: bewitching, confident, witty, elusive, fraudulent, finicky 

MBTI: enfj - the protagonist

zodiac: capricorn

AESTHETIC.

pompoms soaked in vodka. antique cameras leftover from past relationships. walls dotted with images, your own face conspicuously absent. wearing luxurious furs well into spring. meeting catcalls with an eyeroll and a smirk. lips dusted with glitter. half bitten peaches. half finished sketches. scattering the ashes of your lovers hearts. plastic tiaras gathering dust at the back of your wardrobe. silver tongued. blowing kisses across the room. never ending the night alone.

(BRIEF) SUMMARY.

tw: body image issues, sexual harassment/assault (mentions), inappropriate/toxic relationships, misogyny, slut shaming

dani is a final year(!) art major, with a special emphasis/focus on photography. art has always been her safe haven and people are often surprised to find her pouring over the latest MOMA exhibition, or planning weekend trips to see some niche photographer in the city. but for dani, art is literally the ONLY place she gets to be herself and so she shines under the creative light.

she’s minoring in film studies and is way less interested in the subject, but hey - she needed a minor. she’s pretty much there for the pretty women and the opportunity to pick up new tricks by watching the likes of marilyn and audrey. she is absolutely looking for people to do her homework/teach her about the course....so plz let her hit you up if they have some classes in common!

she’s simultaneously very well known and also a massive mystery on campus in the sense that people know lots about her, but what they know isn’t necessarily true? after burying her head in the sand for her first two and a half years at harcourt, she became a household name after a scandal with an art teacher, where he accused her of trying to sleep with him for good grades (not true...they had a heartbreaking affair that she’s still not over!). after that scandal, people were just, making shit up about her and some of it has stuck!! 

generally, people assume she’s the distant relative of someone wealthy, probably from the west coast. dani doesn’t talk much about her past, so they assume something traumatic happened in her formative years. they also think she’s done all these wild and scandalous things? like...drugs and wild boat parties and threesomes and blackmailed teachers and cheated for good grades and....whilst she could absolutely get away with murder, she’s a lot more innocent than she’s perceived to be. those things aren’t true, but people seem to be impressed by them, so she hasn’t dispelled the rumours.

if anything, after the affair blew up in her face, she forced herself into those rumours, just so she could take control of the narrative. so over time, she’s grown into her role as this...seductive charming woman, and even learnt to take advantage of it at times, but having the world wrapped around her pinky isn’t necessarily making her happy - and she isn’t sure how to fill that void inside of her.

she carries herself very much as someone in control, extremely confident, quite witty (in a sort of...sarcastic, dark humour kinda way) and generally very fun? but on the inside, she’s slowly dying.

honestly not the biggest fan of the society. she only ended up joining because the book showed her a nude photograph taken of her by the ex-professor (instead of a story) and dani wanted to storm into the library and teach whoever ran the society a lesson about sharing nudes without consent. obviously, she didn’t find out who, or what, put the photograph there...but she’s been on a mission to find out who recruits them ever since.

in the mean time, she’s reluctantly become engaged with the society’s mission. she’s not a big fan of reading, or heavy academia, or...learning...but she’s adamant that the group adopt a wider definition of “stories”, encouraging the cultivation of social media posts, photographs and drawings.

FULL BIOGRAPHY HERE: read at your own peril!

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

1. PARTNER IN CRIME – someone who is just as determined to figure out who is behind the society as she is. they’ll likely snoop around dusty manuscripts and try to trace the society’s foundations back to the beginning. who’s to say if they’ll find answers? maybe they’ll end up wishing they hadn’t begun looking. also calling for people who share her belief in the diverse nature of stories and will call bullshit on the literary focus of the group.

2. STUDY BUDDY - briefly mentioned above: but someone who does film studies/takes film studies classes and had the unfortunate luck to either be put in a group project with her, or be asked to tutor her. unfortunately, dani’s idea of “studying” consists of her persuading them to do the lions share of the work...maybe they resent her for that, or perhaps they’re willing to pick up the slack - for something in return.

3. KINDRED SPIRIT - someone who knows the girl behind the rumours. someone who has peeked behind her mask and discovered a secret or two. akin to a best friend, this person is a solid presence at her side and dani would be a poorer person for not having them in her life. 

4. THE JUDGE - the flipside to the above: someone who sees only the image she projects into the world, and despises it. they think she’s empty and vapid, nothing more than pretty face who just so happens to have a golden tongue. 

5. MISCOMMUNICATION - i live for awkward dynamics so give me people who were friends with benefits, only for wires to get crossed and end with one of them trying to take the other out on a date. or tinder dates who went badly, badly wrong. give me two people who just...have nothing in common and get trapped in awkward, mundane conversation, no matter how much dani tries to brighten it up.

6. UNREQUITED CRUSHES - it’s all about the yearning. i’m a big fan of friends who develop crushes on each other...or the person who gets butterflies every time they speak to dani. it could go either way, but keeping in with the skeleton’s vibes, i’m super interested to have someone crush on dani and for her to be so...acutely unaware of that.

7. THE MUSE - every artist needs a muse, right? dani is used to being the subject, rather than the painter - but it turns out you can’t submit photos of yourself for every single assignment! so dani went looking for a subject, someone she could study, someone she could ravish, someone whose face was a work of art. they got her an A - and she’s been inspired to draw them since.

more to come as my dumb brain thinks of them!!!!!!!!!!!

HEADCANONS.

tba

[justmenoworries]

Record Of Ragnarok - Review (Warning: Major Spoilers)

Shuumatsu no Walküre or, as it’s known in other countries, Records Of Ragnarok, is an Action Manga by Takumi Fukui, Shinya Umemura and Chika Aji that centers around the end of the world. As of now, it has 33 chapters, contained in 6 volumes.

Summary:

The story in a nutshell is that the gods have become fed up with humanity and decided to just fuck it and kill us to do whatever it is gods do in peace. The valkyrie Brunhilde objects rather strongly to this and invokes the Ragnarok clause to give humanity a chance to survive. The gods and the humans each provide 13 champions to fight for them and whichever side has the most victories after 13 rounds wins. If humanity wins, we keep living and if the gods win, we get unalived.

Pros:

The Premise. The stakes are high enough to get you pumped for each battle and it also leaves a lot of room for moral greyness on both sides. On one hand, we have the gods who strive to eradicate humanity and are almost unanimously presented as privileged jerkasses - but then you get characters like Heracles and Buddha who are technically on the divine side, but are shown to actually not support the plan to kill all humans. On the other hand we have humanity literally fighting to survive - but the manga never shies away from showing that humans are not all innocent cinnamon roles and even poses the question if humanity really deserves to survive sometimes. I mean, how much would you want to root for people who are having Jack the Ripper, a scumbag serial killer, fight as one of their champions? Speaking of which...

The champions. A few of you might have perked up at the mention of Jack the Ripper. As it turns out, whether a champion has been dead for years by the time of the story’s present doesn’t really matter: They get to participate all the same. Leading to a bunch of historical characters getting the chance to prove their badassery in the ring. Even better? This story follows the “all myths are true and all gods exist”-rule. You heard right: Every deity, no matter what religion or what part of the world they originated from, has the potential to become an anime villain! Ever wanted to see Lü Bu going at it with Thor? Well, now you can! Wanna see who’d win in a wrestling match between Raiden Tameemon and Shiva? Just read this manga!

The world-building. Record’s lore and backstories are detailed enough to have their own side-chapters and some of the characters’ pasts really make you feel for them. Wanna know how much? This manga, for a split-second at least, made me feel sorry for an unrepentant serial killer. The writing is just that good.

The art-style. It’s incredibly expressive and detailed, especially in the fight- scenes. The covers are beautiful, the character design is creative and gives every character their own, distinct style. And I know this may sound perv-y, but Aji Chika really knows how to draw naked bodies. Just... don’t pay too much attention to the anatomy.

The battles. As of the time I’m writing this, 4 out of 13 fights have been concluded and the fifth one is currently playing out. Each of the fights demonstrate so much personality and the match-ups are insanely cool. It’s never a closed case which combatant is going to win, each fight has so many twists and turns and the fighters themselves have a lot of chemistry with each other. Their motivations are, for the most part, understandable and fit the characters. If you can, check out the youtube - series by AmiasD Backup, you won’t regret it. The editing and the added background music really bring out the inherent epicness of the manga.

Cons:

The battles tend to suffer from, what i like to call, Anime Battle Syndrome. The action will screech to a halt at several points in order to let the characters monologue about their strategy, boast of their former accomplishments or just kinda... talk to each other for no good reason at all. Or have the background characters talk about something that just happened at length until you just want to shout “I know! I saw, I was there!”And the flashbacks detailing the combatants’ backstories are often just tedious. I know I praised them in my Pro-list, but no matter how cool a backstory is, if it comes smack in the middle of a hyped-up confrontation, it’s annoying! I don’t wanna see five pages of a character reminiscing how they once ate a bug when they were six, I wanna see two guys beat the shit out of each other to decide the fate of all of humankind! Just tell me the story after the battle, jfc.

The comedic aspects of the story are not handled well. I mean, I get it: In a story about the literal end of the world not having at least a few lighter moments would probably lead to the readers putting down the manga eventually because it just got too depressing. But the way Records handles it can cause some pretty big whiplash. One moment you’re on the edge of your seat, biting your fingernails in anticipation of how a certain move in the current battle has played out - only to be confronted with a joke about how Ares is dumb, or one of the background characters making an inappropriate comment. Add to that the uncomfortably high number of sexist and sometimes rape-y jokes and you got a pretty yikes collection of failed attempts to implant humor. Speaking of which...

The manga has a really weird and uncomfortable relationship with women. They’re either oversexualised to the point of being nothing more than a walking, bouncing pair of breasts and hips, or side-lined in order to give all the spotlight to the male characters. For example: The valkyries. The valkyries in norse mythology are a people of badass warrior maidens. In the manga, it’s the valkyrie Brunhilde who kickstarts the tournament for humanities’ right to keep existing. She’s also the one who selects the human champions and prepares them for their upcoming battles by introducing them to their valkyrie-partners, their “Volund”, and she acts as an overseer for each round. She’s about the most involved female character you’ll get in this story. Her sisters, the other valkyries, are literally objectified to serve as weapons to the male champions. One of them is brutally forced to submit to her partner, in a scene that is eerily  reminiscent of assault. You’d think an amazon brigade as famous as the valkyries would be treated better than that, in a manga centered around fighting. Nope. They just get to be inanimate objects for the guys to wield. Oh, and if a champion dies, so does his Volund. So not only do the valkyries not get to fight themselves, they pay the price if their partner screws up. Lovely. Another glaring point I want to bring up: There are no female champions. On either side. We get shown a list of the human champions early on and all of them are male. All the divine combatants so far have been male, too. And there’s no indication that that’ll change in the future. Which is weird, because there is certainly no shortage of badass female characters that could have been used in the plot, both historical and mythological. But nope! Pure sausage fest is what we get instead. What’s that? You wanted to see Jeanne d’Arc or Ishtar or Sekmet or Lyudmila Pavlichenko or Anne Bonnie, or literally any of the dozen of amazing female fighters history and mythology have produced? Tough luck! Saving humanity is apparently a men-only sport.

Overall, Record Of Ragnarok is a story with an interesting premise and a plot rife with potential, but it just has too many flaws for me to declare it perfect or even good, to be honest.

For what it is, it’s an okay read. If you’re willing to muscle through the blatant misogyny prevalent in some parts of it. And the rather painful attempts at humor.

4.9/10. Could’ve been done better.

[justwritethatdown]

Bechloe Week 2020 – Day 8: Wedding 

The Wedding

Nate’s wedding day is finally arrived! Beca and Chloe's morning after and some unsolved family business.

I'm sorry if this is ridiculous 🙈

Rating: M 

Words Count: 1.5K

Read here or on AO3

Beca always loved waking up into Chloe’s arms; the warmth of the redhead’s body pressed against hers and the sweet scent of her skin surrounding her. Beca usually let herself indulge in it, until it became too much and had to move away and be her grumpy self, pretending to hate being touched. This time was different though; this time their naked bodies were intertwined together and Beca didn’t have to pretend. She didn’t have to protect her secret, Chloe knew Beca loved her and Beca knew that Chloe felt the same. So Beca pushed her face further into Chloe, inhaling deeply. Chloe let out a soft hum and tightened her arms around the brunette’s middle.

Beca smiled into Chloe’s skin and blindly started to pepper lazy kisses on her Chest and neck, the memories of their night together giving her a sense of calm. Chloe’s nails lightly scratched at her back making her shiver and push her head back. The redhead took the opportunity to place a soft, lingering kiss on her lips

“Good morning” mumbled Chloe against Beca’s lips

“Morning” smiled Beca finally opening her eyes to see Chloe looking at her with a fond smile

“You’re so cute” whispered Chloe brushing a lock of hair away from Beca’s forehead, and the brunette let out a strangled growl hiding her face into Chloe’s neck again. The redhead giggled and gently kissed her temple “I wish I could lay here with you all day”

“What time is it?” huffed Beca, knowing very well that they had to get up and start getting ready for the wedding

“it’s...” grunted Chloe reaching for her phone on the nightstand next to Beca, hovering over her “oh, sorry” she said when she noticed she’d literally pushed her breasts in Beca’s face

 “Oh, I don’t mind” smirked Beca, moving her hands on Chloe’s side, at the height of her ribcage, to keep her there. Chloe chuckled and stared at her biting her bottom lip as she was considering something

“We have to get up though” she sighed “it’s almost half past eight”. Beca groaned at that but let go of Chloe to let her move away from her body. She kept her eyes on Chloe as the girl stood up.

Beca felt every inch of her body catching fire while her eyes traced every curve of Chloe’s naked body, her toned abs and perfect legs, but what turned Beca on the most was the lust she could see in Chloe’s eyes and the girl’s smirk when she noticed Beca staring at her

“Come shower with me” she offered with a hypnotizing look to which Beca could have never said ‘no’ to.

 It turned out to be the best shower of Beca’s life. It begun with Chloe pushing her against the shower’s wall and getting on her knees, she brought Beca’s right leg over her shoulder to open her wider and buried her face between Beca’s legs. After making her come, she rose to her feet and started to spread soap all over Beca’s body, making her turn to face the wall. She started rubbing her back and hips, going down to squeeze her ass, before moving around her body, to pay attention to her front. The redhead pushed herself against Beca’s back while massaging her breasts. Beca rested her forehead on the wall before her when she felt Chloe’s hand traveling down her body to reach her center. The redhead took Beca’s left arm and pushed it against the wall, while bending her slightly further, Beca did the same thing with her other arm to brace herself and Chloe pressed their bodies together and started to trace slow circles on Beca’s clit, while gently nibbling her ear. Chloe made Beca come two more times before even allowing her to touch her.

 The ceremony was on the beach and the bride was barefoot under her long, cream dress that was shorter on the front – almost too short, for Mrs. Beale’s likes – while Nate was wearing black converse under a white tuxedo. The unconventionality of their clothes was far from being what upset Chloe’s parents the most that day.

During his vows, Nate talk about how he was so lucky to marry his best friend and Beca felt her throat tightening, she slipped her hand into Chloe’s and leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she noticed it was wettened by tears

“Hey” she whispered, having to clear her throat “are you okay?” she asked worried while whipping tears away from Chloe’s face. Chloe nodded trying her best to hold her sobs

“I just-” she squealed “I just love you so much” she breathed out in a way lower tone, but a loud sniff escaped her. Beca dragged Chloe’s face towards hers and kissed her deeply, hushing a sweet “I love you, too” when they parted.

They must have missed the rest of the vows, because now Nate was lifting his bride to be in the air, and they were sharing a not-T rated kiss in the general disapproval of both of their family and the whistles of their friends. The priest had to divide them and remind them they weren’t married yet. Beca chuckled shaking her head.

 After the ceremony, Chloe’s mom approached them, she seemed very upset, frustrated even. Chloe swallowed hard, bracing herself

“Why do you have to always make everything about yourself?” she spat out

“What? I-”

“I noticed, you know? During the vows you were trying to draw attention so that everyone could see your inappropriate kiss”

“Our kiss was inappropriate!?” spat out Beca incredulous

“Becs” shushed her Chloe, but Beca was furious

“No, Chloe. It’s obvious that she’s just trying to take out on you her rage because God forbid her perfect son did something that upset her”

“Beca, please” begged her the redhead, literally holding her back by the arm

“Hello guests, can you all come around here” asked Nate, speaking through a microphone “specially my mother, who is as always tormenting my poor sister. Mother please get off her case” he chuckled, but it was clear how serious he was

“Nate, son. You’re drunk, give me that” begged his father

“No father, I am very sober, and I’ve been waiting this moment for so long” he said “finally, there’s nothing you can take away from me. I had to wait this day to tell you to go fuck yourself because I was afraid that you would have somehow stopped my wedding” he paused looking at Serena, who was looking at him with a proud smile on her lips “but now we’re married and I can finally tell you, that you both have made my life a fucking nightmare”

Chloe was looking at him in shock, dropped jaw and widened eyes. She’d never considered the pressure he was under; she only noticed the praises he got, the ones she could never have.

“If it wasn’t for Chloe, and then Serena, I don’t know how I would have survived. So, since this is a speech of thanks, I want to thank my sister, for being always there for me and for suffering through this week with you, just to attend my wedding, thank you baby sister, I love you” he ended looking at Chloe before literally dropping the mic and accepting Serena’s hug before shouting “let’s go swimming!”

 Beca and Chloe reached Nate who was undressing, and Chloe hugged him tightly “I love you, too” she squealed

“nice speech, dude” praised Beca gently punching his arm, a little embarrassed by the abs showing through his open shirt, but then the sight of Chloe slipping out of her dress made Beca’s mouth go dry

“Come on Becs, swim with me” offered the redhead biting her lip

Beca never thought she would add ‘bathed in the ocean in underwear’ to the list of things she’d done, but by now she was used to the idea that Chloe could make her do just about anything.

 It took Chloe five whole minutes to get bored and decide to make Beca add something else to her list

“I want you” she whispered to Beca’s hear, making her choke on hair

“We are in public” hissed the brunette looking at her with wide eyes

“I miss your fingers” teased Chloe “I want them inside of me” she added before swimming away from Beca

“Beca” called out Chloe, almost like an order, and Beca struggled to reach her. When they were – according to Chloe – far enough from the group, the redhead wrapped her arms around Beca’s neck and her legs around her middle, pressing her pussy against Beca’s pelvis, waiting for Beca to give her what she wanted.

Beca licked her lips looking into Chloe’s eyes, her hands were already making their way around the girl’s ass, squeezing it gently and making Chloe hiss “be quiet” ordered the brunette, letting her fingertips slide beneath Chloe’s costume

“uh-uh” promised Chloe closing her eyes and bending her hear to rest on Beca’s shoulder, just for it to shot back up when her back arched as Beca slipped two slender fingers inside of her.