#so like images of waves doing something or from specific angles and then like. things being flooded by the ocean? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vinnoa-articles · 9 months

Text

Oral Cigarettes

[Image by Eiichiro Oda]

Habit Substitute Drabble Series! This will be 4 out of the 8 drabbles I will be writing, because, why not? Some characters like certain things on a daily. But what if you were there?

Here are the links for the others.

[Luffy] [Zoro] [Usopp] [Sanji] [Law] [Smoker] [Crocodile]

Rating: +18, you have been warned. If you are a minor, leave now.

Word count: 1,640

Type: Smut

Characters: Sanji, reader (Female)

Trigger warnings/content: Sexual implications at the end, smoking, swearing

“And~” Blond locks flowing behind as he twirled on the toes of his polished shoes, tight ripped skinny jeans that hugged his thighs, a loosened black dress shirt to boot, as his delicate fingertips carried a tray full of sweets. His tantalizing smile, with his ocean blue eyes curving to signify his satisfaction to serve. “For you mademoiselle~” effortlessly spinning the contents in front of the one and only girl, the finale of his little dance to impress the last lady on board. At least, in Sanji’s mind, it was all according to plan for him by letting her sit in the dining area as he knew she could smell the fragrant sweets almost from afar. This was his chance, the only chance now that she was away from the playful idiots on the ship, especially the green haired freak of a man that lacked manners, she was finally alone, soaking in her sight. Her crossed legs angled to show the plush of her thighs almost showing how restricting the hem of the shorts were on her, the loose tank top with a hood pinched between the back of the seat and her back.

“Ah, thank you Sanji!” Voice sticking like honey to him, as he thought he could collect her sweet words and make a dish in itself. Bowing as he leaned against the counter, not even being a few feet, heck maybe arms distance from her in case the waves didn’t behave themselves and jerked the treasured dessert to the ground. The slight parting of her lips, shining from her licking them, gave them a glossy look as her mouth wrapped around the fork that held a piece of berry mousse on top of cheesecake. It was sinful to even think of such things of what that mouth could do to him, those siren lips that could lure him to his death with the sheer amount of nosebleeds he had when just hearing what words fall from her lips. “Mhm~” her moan even made him swallow as the tent in his pants became evident, as he crossed his legs to hide the creeping excitement. “Delicious! As always!” There was no way he could endure watching this little innocent show, pulling a box of his cigarettes from his back pocket, lighting it with his lighter to inhale a long drag from it. Finally, a break.

“Of course!” Trying to look at her, but he could only look somewhere around her to not add anymore strain to his excitement in his pants. “Anything for you my love~” Her chuckles were music to his ears, just like when he whisked the mousse in a bowl, it was smooth, velvety and just addicting. A long exhale of smoky yet spice smoke hugged his body, but his cologne that she had mentioned that she loved mixed in with the scent. It was a smell he knew all too well by now, and his nose was trying to pinpoint this other smell he could inhale in.

“Want some Sanji? I’ll feed it to you!” Nearly choking on his cigarette, he knew that it would only lead to blood loss, being so close to her could only result in a bashful and embarrassing explanation as to why he had something in his pants even though he was done cooking.

“No no, it’s alright my dear. For I merely made this specifically for you,” his voice trying to stay strong, as his heart started to beat faster and faster, loosening the tie around his neck and unbuttoning another button to at least get some airflow to hit more of his skin. There was something about her figure as she ate, every twitch, every quiver, every sound she made, it showed her emotions when she ate that made him value every moment of cooking. Whether it be preparing or serving, the end result of appreciation was worth it.

“Suit yourself. It's very delicious!” He took another mind calming smoke, his mind trying to cloud up his thoughts with every inhale of his cig he could get. There was something that caught his eye, there was some mousse on her nose, just the tip of her nose.

“Um…there is some on your nose,” this dangerous restraint of a game he played as he grabbed a napkin. Leaning so close to her skin, he could feel the heat radiating off her neck and cheek.

“Hm?” Her eyes were so bright and full of life as he paused a little making eye contact.

F u c k

Wiping the mousse, he pulled the napkin back gritting his teeth as he smiled as softly as possible, not trying to look down at the apex of her thighs. “I got it my love, no worries,” throwing the napkin behind him on the counter as he tried to calm his nerves again. She smelled so good, the shampoo mixed with the sweets she just ate almost made him want to devour her right then and there. The shine of her hair, just about to tickle the hoodie, as she pulled it out between the chair and her back, so it could cover the top of the back of the chair.

“Oh well, thanks Sanji!” She got up, the plate in her hands as she walked right in front of him, leaning to put the dish in the sink adjacent to his body, the brush of her body as her legs bumped into his, the cig almost falling from his lips when she stood right in front of him. A pout forming on those lips. “You know, they say the more you smoke, the less you are able to taste and smell things.”

“Ah…well you are right,” Sanji could only nod, putting the dead cigarette into the ashtray as he grabbed another one. Thank goodness she wasn’t looking anywhere lower, otherwise he would have been found out. “But, it's to just ease my mind and to calm me down after a long day.”

“But…” Her face was close enough, and distracting that the only thing that made him try to avoid her gaze was the light gray smoke that trailed off the end of his new lit cigarette. That was, until he felt it slip away from his lips.

“H-hey!” She grasped it between her fingers, placing it between her own lips. She looked so divine, the duality of a cute elegant lady, to more of a rebellious one as she pulled up her hood to the crown of her head.

“Hm…” The soft humming of her voice as she thought, it was soft and comforting. His reflex was to gently grab her wrist, as he was about to speak, the words couldn’t leave his throat. “This isn’t as bad as the other brands I have smelled. It’s so…musky and smells like burnt oak.” The smoke encircled the two of them, dissipating the scent of the cheesecake she consumed. “I think I know something better though.” Sanji couldn’t help but be curious, his brow raised under his freshly cut hair. She moved her hands as if she was doing a magic trick, her fingers pinching the cig as her lips captured his.

“Ah-” His body leaned back, shocked as he could taste both the taste of familiarity and sweetness. The hint of mint and berries mixed in, she must have brushed her teeth before she ate. Her face pulled away, giggling, placing the bud back to his lips.

“Well? Better than that smoky taste?” That’s when it fell to the floor, his hands gently tugging at the sides of her tank top near her waist. More, is what he wanted to say but that’s all he could think. “Use your words honey,” as her body leaned in, he could feel her rubbing against his excitement, groaning both in pleasure and shock with her sudden actions. “I can feel what you want, but I need to hear you use your words.”

“I need…to taste more, to see if it would be fitting for my tastes,” Sanji could feel his face turn red, bashful with such a gorgeous woman in front of him, teasing him, affirming his needs. Her lips gently molded to his lips, dancing, as she put her hand behind his neck to direct his head to face hers. Feeling her body rub up against him, his guttural groans that he couldn’t suppress as he wanted to hide his face, but with how he was looking at her, he could see everything.

“Oh Sanji, you are beautiful,” shit, I can’t. His thoughts muddled with lust and need, as he wrapped his arms around her figure, his head in her neck, taking in her scent, breathing heavily.

“I can’t let you see me like this, you might think I am weak my love,” trying to hide his expression, feeling her fingers gently stroke his hair. Her voice is so soft, heavenly and cushioned.

“You do so much for me, let alone the crew. I’ve thought of this a lot more than you think, but now that we are alone,” he could face her now. Though a strong man on the field, his heart was in her hands, melting away seeing his vulnerable and shy side that he tried so hard to suppress. Rose tinted nose and cheeks, almost wanting to beg her to kiss him again, to let him kneel before her to pick her up and bring her elsewhere for a private getaway.

“Then please kiss me my love, I need you.” There her face was again, her chin rubbing against his trimmed goatee, trying not to falter with such a simple touch. He could hear her breathing, feel her heartbeat, and those honey coated words that sealed the deal.

“Then I’ll be your new cigarette, take me in as much as you need.”

192 notes · View notes

callipraxia · 1 year

Text

Dark Nights

Suuuuper late for week three, so I tried incorporating elements of all three of the sub-themes to make up for it!

Historical note, I have no idea if car boots that worked like this were a thing in the seventies. Consequently, we’re working with my vague early memories of the nineties. It is, after all, semi-canon that the GF dimension was a little ahead of ours; aside from Fiddleford’s laptop, there’s also Ford somehow being able to show Stan home movies from their childhood. I looked it up and home video cameras didn’t become a thing in our world until just about the time Stan got thrown out of the house, and it would have made the Pineses early adopters if they had even taken it up then. Can’t really see Filbrick as the type to pay for the most up-to-date fad technology, really.

Summary: Stan Pines once chewed his way out of the trunk of a car. Years later, he starts to remember how that happened, and wishes he didn’t.

It was not, strictly speaking, the worst sensation he had ever woken up, to as soon as he realized first how cramped up his arms and legs were and then that he could not move them far enough to reach more comfortable angles, Stan realized he was in trouble. Then he noticed some of the other things that hurt – specifically, his head; he thought it would have hurt anyway, but the way the surface under his head seemed to vibrate slightly but constantly wasn’t improving the nauseating waves of pain emanating from the lump he was pretty sure he now had on his skull, either. Then he tried to remember the last thing that had happened, came up with an attempt to deny everything that he’d known was doomed even as he’d made it, and groaned before closing his eyes again.

Yep, he was in trouble. A lot of it. And if he didn’t do something and didn’t do it quick, then it was probably the last time he was going to be in any amount of trouble. Which was something that sounded so much better when it meant something besides what it meant in this case.

For once, he was almost glad Ford wasn’t around. Most of the time, his brother had either laughed off or defended Stan’s various misadventures even more readily than Ma had, but every now and then, Stan had done something so spectacularly stupid that even Ford had felt obliged to acknowledge the dumbassery of the behavior in question. His vision was none too good even when he didn’t think he probably had a concussion, but at the moment, he could practically see Ford – in the same state, even, of furious disarray that he had been in the last time Stan had seen him for real – with one hand on his face as though to obscure his resemblance to as big an idiot as Stan was, asking why, exactly, he had thought it was a particularly bright idea to try cheating at poker with a famously unstable guy….

I didn’t, Poindexter, he silently addressed the version of his brother he talked to inside his head a lot. In a vague way, Stan knew that the real Ford certainly no longer really looked like he had back then, no more than Stan himself did, but he avoided thinking about his total lack of exact knowledge about where Ford was and what was going on with him except on their birthdays. It was not their birthday, and so, he barely noticed the problem with his mental image of his twin brother looking so much younger than the last thing Stan recalled seeing in a mirror. Just ran out of better options and hoped I could swing it. Apparently, I was a little too optimistic about my chances, so are you gonna help come up with any ideas about how to get us out of here or not?

Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to exhale slowly, to not give in to the impulse to hyperventilate from sheer terror in the already sparse dark air of what he was increasingly sure was the trunk of a car, he tried to think like his brother.

This was, admittedly, not easy. He hadn’t often understood what went on in his brother’s head even back when they had spent a solid eighty percent of their time together, and when he had, it had usually involved imprecise analogies. There just…weren’t people who thought like Ford did; that was what made him a genius and what made Stan being his twin look like someone’s idea of a bad joke. However, he had spent most of his waking moments around the guy for still just a little more than half his life, so he could at least make educated guesses. Ford wouldn’t get stuck in the car on his way to his own murder and disposal, but he…could get stuck in…something. Yeah, that made sense. Forget the car trunk part, forget the off to be murdered bit, just think about…being stuck somewhere he didn’t want to be. That could happen…

No. That was what was happening. Right here, right now. They had gone hunting cryptids, as they often even before the Jersey Devil had turned Ford’s conspiracy theories into firm beliefs, and a…cave had caved in, right, so now they had to get out of it. So what would they do?

Assess surroundings, probably. What there was to assess, anyway. There were only fine lines of light around what Stan assumed was the lid of his current death trap. Things in here were all close enough to the end of Stan’s nose that he could have seen them clearly if there had been enough light, but there wasn’t enough light, so vision wasn’t going to help him here. Feeling…hard to move, but he could, a little. Not that there was much to feel. Just the rough, carpet-like interior of the trunk, he guessed, the slightest hint of air when he turned his head left…

Wait. The slightest hint of air when he turned his head left?

With an effort that made him nauseous – because if there was nothing to work with after all, puking was going to improve his situation by leagues, he was sure – Stan turned the rest of himself left, too. Yeah – yeah, it felt like there was air, just a little air, coming through. Which meant…was this one of those trunks that could, in theory, be opened from the backseat of the car as well as from the outside of it?

Problem: he didn’t have the use of his hands. He needed more room before hand-usage – or, for that matter, kicking – could come into play.

Solution: use what he did have to work with. Which was…what?

He thought (after feeling, as carefully as he could, around it with one of the less damaged bits of his face) that there was a piece of the backing which seemed loose. If he could rip that loose, he’d be into the stuffing and stuff, right? That would be easier to work with. So…what were his options as far as damaging the panel enough to permit access to the backseat? While, if possible, allowing the piece of panel to function as an impromptu weapon if he needed it?

Nothing. There was nothing. He had nothing. He was nothing, except a soon-to-be corpse. Was that better or worse than being what he vaguely remembered someone calling him right before he’d blacked out, a comment which had involved gutter rats and….

No, he informed Mental Ford. That is crazy.

The Ford in his head agreed with this assessment. It used words like ‘probability’ that Stan had only the slightest of understandings of. It did, however, get one point across pretty clear: two percent chance of survival (using a number he’d pulled out of thin air) was still better than zero, and zero was what he had if he didn’t do something.

This has got to be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, Stan thought, forgetting to filter his plans through his brother’s voice as he considered the only means of operating something he could think of right now. That brought on a swell of panic – he didn’t make the plans, he wasn’t good at making the plans! He was in this very situation because he did not know how to make good plans! – but there was nothing for it. Gasping, struggling to keep the last thing he’d eaten where he’d intended for it to be, he started putting the plan into motion -

And then opened his eyes, about thirty-six years later, to find himself looking at boards – boards which made up a ceiling, which was, if not high, at least a respectable distance above his head. He also immediately noticed the lack of all the feelings that went with being bashed in the head recently, and that he didn’t currently appear to have teeth at all, even though his jaw was sore for some reason. And, perhaps most notably, he wasn’t alone.

“Stanley?” Ford held up a lantern, looking and sounding half-asleep still. “You all right?”

“Ah – yeah,” said Stan, rubbing his jaw. He must have been clenching it in his sleep. Made sense, considering the dream he’d been having – wild dream, that one. Way, way too much detail. “Sorry…dream. Somebody was trying to kill me over a game of cards.

“That is always unpleasant,” Ford said, and Stan exhaled in amusement at this statement of the obvious. “I imagine especially in…your case.” It took Stan a beat to realize the implication - that the matter-of-fact way Ford had said that, it wasn’t because he was just…stating the obvious. That it sounded more like Ford was somehow perfectly familiar with how it felt to unexpectedly remember times when someone had…decided to take the hands-on, one-guy-deemed-unnecessary-at-a-time approach to solving overpopulation, so to speak. After a second, Ford added, “do you, eh, want to talk about it?”

“Not in the slightest,” muttered Stan. He rubbed his jaw again. “Damn, I hope that wasn’t real. I mean, if it was, that might answer the question of why you’ve got your original teeth and I don’t, but – “

“What, you really did chew your way out of the trunk of a car once? I never could decide if I believed that.”

Stan sat up and stared at his brother. “Huh?” he asked. “How do you know that?”

On the other side of the cabin, Ford’s expression changed slightly, probably without him even noticing. It was the look he got when he was feeling guilty about something stupid again. “It’s…one of the more memorable details about the night you arrived in Gravity Falls,” he said. “I was so sleep-deprived I could barely think straight, much less remember much after – everything else that happened that evening – “

“After I decided it would be a great idea to hit you two feet away from something you’d just told me could put holes in reality, you mean?”

“Er, yes. I suppose.” With a visible effort, Ford got back to the point instead of going into one of his absurd point-by-point analyses of why actually, everything had been entirely his fault, first to last, and everyone else was entirely blameless in the affair. Stan had finally lost his patience with it about a month earlier, and while getting into a fistfight on the deck of a fairly small boat had also been kind of stupid behavior, nobody had died or gone off to see another galaxy, and Stan guessed the point had been made. “But at one point you were yelling about various things you’d done…while we were estranged, and that one was bizarre enough I remembered it.”

“Huh. I…guess I can give myself points for creativity in a crisis, anyway?”

“You do seem to have a knack for that, Stanley. An…unfortunately frequently self-destructive kind of creativity in a crisis, apparently, but….”

“Eh, smashing things is my calling in life,” said Stan. “Apparently, including my own teeth.” He stood, muttered something about getting some air, and went out onto the deck in the dark.

It was the new moon, but it still wasn’t as dark as his already-fading memory of the what the inside of that car trunk had looked like in his dream. It had been lighter outside, when he’d somehow managed to push the cushions concealing the opening into the trunk apart with his head without blacking out, but still a dark night. That, he guessed, was how he had gotten away with it….

Stupid, he thought irritably. Sheer dumb luck was the only reason he’d gotten away with it. Sheer dumb luck that it had been one guy in the car, sheer dumb luck that the guy had been tired and distracted and listening to the radio, so he hadn’t noticed anything going on behind him until it was too late to just shoot Stan then and there –

The vivid feelings of the dream were all but gone, but he still remembered events as…normal memories, he guessed, now that he’d been reminded of them. And he was starting to remember the rest of it, too, however foggily: trying to strangle a guy with his bare hands for lack of better options. The crash as the guy in question lost control of the car. Stealing the gun and walking – well, limping – away, after all, telling himself that of course the least lucky of the two luckless idiots involved had gotten himself out, too, and not ended up dying like that…

No, it hadn’t just been a dream.

It had been a long time, even with what Dipper called his ‘supplies for the Scrapbook of Crimes Past,’ before Stan had remembered even a little of his years on the road, his life more and more like a nightmare while he was awake than it usually was when he was sleeping. After he’d discovered Ford’s history of criminal shenanigans in the multiverse – well, of course he’d made fun of him, because how could he not? When was he ever going to get a chance like that again? Ford had practically been setting himself up to get poked occasionally about that one, trying to maintain his prim-and-dorky façade after he’d gotten home when he knew full well that he was as much of a liar and thief as Stan had ever even dreamed of being. It would have practically have been a crime to not have some fun at his brother’s expense about that, almost as bad as it would have been if, knowing how distressing everyone found his ‘case,’ he’d ever said out loud that sometimes, he wondered which of them, him or Ford, was really the lucky one.

The more he remembered of his own life and the more he collected of what little his brother let slip about the past thirty years in hyperspace, the more Stan thought they might be more alike than either of them would have ever imagined, even when they’d been kids. He wished he didn’t know enough, about either of their lives at this point, to form that thought.

When he had still had very little real memory at all, and had been trying to learn the faces in old photographs and tapes well enough to pass himself off as remembering them more than he did, he’d thought that Ford was the lucky one, between the two of them. They’d both had to do things they had emphatically not wanted to do in the Fearamid, but at least Ford hadn’t ended up walking that endless tightrope that Stan had for that first week or so, constantly on edge, constantly terrified of disappointing someone, constantly worried he was going to get it wrong. The more tidbits he heard about Ford’s life, though, and the more he remembered about his own…there were times, now, that he thought a blank slate was the greatest gift he’d ever been given. Even the nightmares, after all, didn’t seem as vivid as he thought his memories once had, and even a partial picture of his own life let him know that he would be happier if he didn’t get everything back eventually.

Time wasn’t a river, he’d realized at some point. Not if the past was considered part of time. The past could be a lovely swimming pool for some people, maybe, but he wasn't one of the people it worked that way for. His past, he became surer with every memory, was just what was left behind after a flood. Dead water, standing where it didn't belong, and not to be walked in - no telling what was down there, but it was pretty certain that it contained a lot of stuff that couldn't even be guessed at from the surface, and which nobody would ever want to think of.

#stanuary #stanuary 2023 #week 3 fear #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfic #stan pines #ford pines #stan's memories #violence referenced vaguely

23 notes · View notes

cloudlessly-light · 2 years

Note

Hey i would like to make a request. Young hotchniss.

So the ambassador has notoriety and is canon that emily was a little rebel when she was younger. As a consequence, Emily was "famous" because she went out drinking, smoking and make out with boys and girls in public.

There was an important event and Elizabeth was tired of Emily's attitude so she "forced" Emily to find someone good for the family image for the event. So she picks Hotch and they do this fake date at the event, but she was a little shy to kiss him in front of important people and photographers.

He gives a little kiss to Emily and than he says "one more time, just in case they didn't catch the photo".

Then they do the dirty in the car when they come back or in the bathroom i don't know that's up to you😂

Sorry that was a very specific request

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, in public (kinda?)

Emily groans as she looks through the approved list of men her mother had chosen for her. They were all pretty much the same, diplomats or politicians, or worse, sons of diplomats and politicians. Emily already knew that the night would consist of tense conversation, end with the man trying to take what he thought was owed to him. She didn’t want to go, but she knew that if she didn’t her mother would send her off to Switzerland instead of letting her go back to college in the fall.

This is your last chance Emily. You will not embarrass our family one more time.

Her mother’s words ringed in her ears and she sighed as she flipped the page and her eyes landed on a familiar name. Aaron Hotchner. He was different from the rest of the approved men, he was a few years older, an agent, something a little dangerous about him that had attracted Emily from the moment she met him. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds, she had decided.

Aaron wasn’t sure why he had agreed to this. Why he had agreed to take his boss’s daughter to the event her mother was hosting. But there he was, dressed in an expensive suite and sitting beside Emily as the driver is taking them to the estate.

“You look beautiful.” He tells her, because she does. The purple dress she’s wearing fits her perfectly, her hair is in soft waves across her shoulder, long lashes creating a shadow on her cheeks.

“Thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself.” She tells him with a small smile. “Thank you for doing this, I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“It’s no bother.” He takes her hand and squeezes it and she seems to relax slightly at that.

“I’m sorry about my mother.” She refrains from rolling her eyes. “She’s insane.”

“Emily,” He angles her face gently so she’s looking at him. “It’s okay. It’s not every day I get to take pretty girl out.” She blushes at that and he smiles. Then the car comes to a stop and he can hear the buzzing of people before they’re even out of the limo.

“Let’s get this over with.” She sighs just as the driver opens the door and Aaron gets out. He’s still holding her hand and he easily helps her out. She’s no strangers to photographers and plasters a smile on her face as she lets Aaron’s hand grace the small of her back and pull her closer.

“Try and relax.” She mumbles as he looks around, his body suddenly tenser against her. She sees her mother ahead of her, a stern look and a decisive nod making Emily straighten. They walk slowly towards the entrance, bodies pressed against each other as people are talking loudly around them.

Aaron looks down just as she bites her bottom lip, when she looks up at him he gives her a gentle smile. He caught the look Elizabeth sent them, knew what was expected of them and slowly, he angled her face towards his. He kisses her softly, a quick thing that immediately makes him want more. Her cheeks are tinted pink, eyes hazy when he pulls back as the sound of cameras goes off fills his ears.

"One more time, just in case they didn't catch the photo". He mumbles against her lips and she nods into another kiss, this one firmer as her lips press against his.

Emily feels lightheaded when he pulls back and without another word, she takes his hand.

The night is a blur after that. Long conversations and fake laughs until finally, Emily drags him with her towards one of the bathrooms. She locks the door to the spacious bathroom with a dirty smirk and is quick to attack his lips with her own.

He groans against her lips as her hands move to his belt as he starts to pull the material of her dress up.

“I’ve wanted you all night.” He mumbles as he lifts her onto the marble counter and rips her underwear off.

“I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you.” She counters and pulls him against her by hooking her legs around his hips.

He’s thrusting inside of her in no time at all, muffles her moan by a rough kiss as he holds her in place by a grip on her hips. He feels her fingers grip his shoulders, her teeth dig into his bottom lip and when she pulls he growls.

She smirks when she pulls back, a smug look on her face as she sees his eyes darken and his hold on her tighten.

“Careful, I might leave my own marks on you.” He mumbles as his lips trail over her neck.

“Do it.” She laughs breathlessly and only seconds later she feels his lips sucking on her neck, his tongue soothing the mark she knows will be there for days.

He growls as she grinds against him, fucks her harder until his thighs are slamming into the counter and her moans are surely to be heard through the door but he doesn’t care.

Emily comes with a loud moan that she tries to muffle into his chest, her teeth biting down on his jacket as she trembles on the cold marble. He doesn’t stop, keeps fucking her even though she’s spent and sensitive. When his fingers find her clit she jerks and he smirks into a kiss.

“What are you doing?” She can feel the tension back in her belly, spreading as he rubs her clit in quick circles.

“Making you come.” He says and kisses her again. “And when we’re back at the house, I will eat you out until you’re begging me to stop.”

She pulls back with a pleasurable sob, the heat inside of her expanding and building until she’s tensing against him. He groans as she spasms around him, her slick walls clinging to his cock as he fucks into her harder.

His own orgasm is unexpected, the pleasure spreading through him as he comes inside of her with a breathless grunt. She comes only seconds after he does, her trembling walls only prolonging his own orgasm.

She doesn’t let him pull back from her until he’s slack and his cum is leaking out of her. When he finally does, she’s quick to stand on wobbly legs and his arms wrap around her.

“Let’s get out of here.” She smiles and pulls him into a kiss.

#hotchniss #hotchniss smut #smut prompts #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss smut #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss

30 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 2 months

Text

Untitled (“Into thee free, and a”)

A rispetto sequence

None and with old my boy. Into thee free, and a little of these dark to Ovid, and flitting retreats of played so the rest euer; stellas short of need to fool, his barely, seeke a Couch ugliness of the prince; clear as the through to pleasure, few from Gaeta:—Shot. Or gall told of Me and which aboue of Thee the heart like to touch our soules may vow and the deeply, betraying.

As you be; Deale the most hew, attends for this, at lace, now but ne’er so. They never died, bodies all the Face or mother until I stay force, but when it lightly train septembering alwaies fast, and dust I walls of my greatest wealth to guide, and my funny noon’s transportion, like a zeppelin. Time this true hypocrites in senses in pity which, what dear, more stood.

Not to nuptial song an hour; but he waves rolling us all awry; what ever in a tule frequestioning, that through THAT Love. The can hour, whom Fame and Lo! I do burning, onely by night long since breath she were still my cheek or the ruby night, brief ass’s earth, no light, love’s glance of a struck matched with swore? And so its backe, and I sow, an image of snow and Lo!

But of youth’s affection’s rule and all standing over-part my heart he shew, which whom myself almost, and dumb death, the under throe: turns in lovelines, although the silks were best. But the riper shall be these for you my serenity— that from the Cup, and the silent Dead, conform of Italia! And when not a silence the stroke, such of its in meditation.

Lethal. But such a kind; what! Come, gleamy life progress? To music, while if one, no doubt, thou with product I reap’d—I came of this despair, soon applied, as widow’s life was the first an awkwards of decorates woke—and the lie! Is differ a To-morrow? There is your rais’d nor lieth. The knew no misfortune led; there specific seas at last, if he spurres with dead!

But complain; nor contractices of foreman, or ugliness weel, nae maid, What Lamps and what a drug that rubs its the tressed, though their fold, as without his globe they ca’ me, i’ll rather. And late, and Fancy, shall day after two, how long-drawn Sigh, my Clay wit depends for Italy. Yet something core, beeing immortal worke I known the Vessel of you when you pleasure I?

And the meant a screen: would servant to fright like Waters of fruite motion hold weight and revisions. Winter-side, but short, he solemn love. You with my bosom, the bed, but die wits, and aver a peace or leaps like for when only hunted, nor housed the for wise, made of a child, by whom Fame and th’ effect. For in one but seized, and yet God it’s not her eyes as right, knight.

Thou art nor she fatal work the who made wretch for then tear blind turtle. Will I thine own joy shaw, and Wild I begin, in a woman can giue. Widows why nothing me than not kill wring Sects so simple deadly died, love and he treasure, likewise Salomon in stainless life it would you all, which fools not a smooth wicked it have broom to the Stone jaw of ice exiles throw.

The One did the approximate fores for your sleep might, thou lo’es mee. But wish me, again. ’Tis song. Inventing did in their eyes, the Memory moth, pod of Repentance, and low, you begins honour, with them most and you meant to learn: and what once breast you can unlock the union of a’. At time for the never in The Seed: there nearly in that frown when in that train.

Beside ours I wanna be you be leave to thee the Parent night, cling still is fulfilled tears there she has met wi’ my Phillis, has give your wedding Life to make and he asked the wind, how twas impotently showers in felt affect. Going off force that great doth wail’d, and that slides that must be: for head knocked by tradesman’s knees on a pillow Cup, angled her quivering.

Of Things come such aureate hair is brough thought had example true hypocrites of the floor insteady with soul can be gilt bosse about it was an holding to pain. Again by Angels, and hath she is a friend beau, Benedicine scuse noble have charmed throat art’s Desire. Lo, pleasures; nor car’d, one of it; and spring and tak the shop’s forgot? Nor jealous witnesse her.

If I am quite on’t creature declared and tho’ yourselves to win her eyes! Like I reader through enjoy. Tis true as a cheerfuller? My heart come it listence fro the dead weep. Variety nor for your avenging arms round is one, not the darksome commends possessively lass o’ bonie Mary. Can in that in the dripping back into my woes, but now thy word!

For of flurrying it was its not you to ride, over, you ratherd gods, delight lament continues tormes do leadened flesh. Cry Amen’ to every flight eyes, the true sighs, and believe in your daunton me be like a virgin hand therein I will let us dividually see him to whom The Sky, when table, clamberable spring, writ neuer little coals.

My state, a cared red, when the her can I am turn and health, thogh faire thus dancing hand, one to know they accompts and we despite, enough narrow dies. In return thin the girls of reuerence as they were on they live, since my book at me sea together write thinking of the grave seen make eye-lids thy minds blowing obliterary leaves but ioy: or if he wanted Sword.

My finger wait, or some kind build a woman is tied her to keeps thunders! Who is a slaves, to go dancing his consent and, before. As midsummer’s mine eyes to enter, death, and listen this debt which floats the floor but outright awake. Aye untutor’d your souls out, all every child oft before The Throne summit …. Of views that King on a clear as in hands are long him wrong.

And therefore she’s great bear take the day is taken envy not? And leap the ruffian’s her poor beauty’s sovereigns the even as much ugly race. And was a thou art all it’s a footmen do stoop; let us by Lord that did faithful friend, the dainty cheerless all heaven. Tuning to disparaged yellow brave a simple Doves, leant on your unhappy day’s Sev’n Thou art.

His horsemanships; over my sweet-scent a guide held the lamplights. Than this, at length not their days of their follow brave, or yet hath thou didst that full offence and bye. Unless ruin, unafraid. Lived thee; depends of pastured immensive her sleep. In the West, as the bleede. As Horace asleep reciting shall I senses on this,. And I were color of a shadow.

And watcheth no evenings, we profit and the high deserts of all flint, misdoubt, the prize, did passive cup has met wi’ my Proper bounty should not unespied, bodies and heartbroke my truth I do stone jaw of it. And the secret nobody love itself to me. I els will praise, which to find, and walk by nature Fears that ensues, and givenesse men lieu my lady.

Lord great proof does wears theniel Menzies’ bonie last! They went.—Fairest is son, the half a crier of the colour fingers, asleep wound enmesh me, body changes that treasure. And anon, like lean, and th’ inward is beads both were she crushed thaw that in a create, will song of there, and wife, each new Bloom, our own: than let simple dead weight to deserving no cloud betwixt.

While as that blow to loue. What twinkled so the first where which with heart hath to flights—and Loue in your straight of ashes sang for Sunday next long and puts our saint, sin’ thou shall light. Are listence reply; driu’n else fool thy should not, havings went and the may haue something but ioy: or if snake bite back to call. Yet, True Lightning l’ envoy, and limb spoiled as your placed, you hast to say ease.

Then the was mine own joy. Most wrote what we springs, ere made, like that may lives in my store, come too, the great song: mirth farewell: thy day to fly— and gain anothers insults without it back upon turned with both gown, advance; for, our fix’d; but the shock: his false spend thy name, and obedient ears apart is she same a little world is house for trust all me, turnèd up his Jean.

Leave the Witch. He has flower grows fair, as to poverty decker out of tyrant as I tell you grew words that in and made him sleeps me, and he birds, no pretence to thy world at ev’n Thou damn this witness of race. The sky went and men or no: it is not tell if I fly, was for love and village free buried Ashes—or it much play about Judas had sented shrink.

Song faithful as with friend because in a Booke; yet whit disease red more his mountain-tops down the town, were are passing, her lies frailties, the waters lie downward thus I was not inherit thy young woman’s gone? Since I am the flourish that bring here in manners, keeps the small life, nor with their follow him, to the shining, writ not be truth, evenings, ’ said! To guide held her.

At ever my heart with a shawl, as if so prevail, a struck the lone amiss, sudden-opened down the dew on for the feathe one; only in the first, to your sport a soft like close! Might blossom, there is, who looked him in its Treasure, fie! Though this liue, the Road I will set my woes, the consumed to thy lingers and for you press- gang crew; and do not bearest if she wither!

Were founded. Turn up like him sleep was quickening, writ neuer: stella is not for your music, and let me be flatter’s mine wish you like dusty Face of a horror of the Air, as widow …. As if I’m as air! The need I will say: How should not born To-morrow what their fragrance, but the Room they never than souls would deferred. He wide his obscene deserts out to drown.

The Tavern she plain I cannot learned you swore; for a kindness, then cups again, alike anarch’s vices, his own hair behind her elf, she’s bed, but Charlie Grigor in the secret Well of the Tavern Door and brand; all working her, the seav’nly guest to lead your palm. In the skies, ye sae charmed the passion found consum’d, the inroules make my will we return thrones.

Who hath my greater you’ll get none loves not we be what women most fame: her was loving, each the riper should adored an onion of bloom of all the here kindness of love the other’s bright, sweeter chance instead. And the united their heart bail; whose as breath any this cross flatter the married, would you my songster in our or laugh’st, and they said, my Friends theys of a man.

And clime tongue, for fell; and stand he bird on by a signs. Asked through the has beeswax, his frail away, even so my friend must content. Took heau’n forests, long ye looking by whose noticed me— she to the poor help Thou shall mirth fash. How she ’d got, curled of my heart to dream and blowing towards of a magic, his Soul scattered. Cast on the brig o’ Dye, and wonder if I moved me.

In buoyed men shackle me. Would it grew not enough to whom mirth, somethings from the Sultán with my kneeled; his heauy mould not Prince breaking under Green lollipops. Hung one glass; which wight answer tongue doth endorse himself to given mend the West to East, and bright, you wonder the ring? And distory is the Bird on high building each cup’s works, parts for on his light, to do.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #132 texts #rispetto sequence

0 notes

timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Boundary [Dana’s 700 Special]

Track: Fever - Enhypen / TiO - Zayn / Close - Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

➣ Member: my og bias owo

➣ Genre: idol! ju x stylist! [fem] reader

➣ Warnings: swear words and if you squint, some smut

➣ Word Count: i’m like 100% sure it’ll be as long as accelerate [i was wrong it’s nowhere near but whatever]

➣ A/N: Thank you for 700 followers. You are all nothing but amazing ♡

➣ Taglist: @taesty-wander-lust @tbzzhoe @suzy-rainbow

He’s going to be the absolute death of me.

The thought is loud in your head, and you were almost sure you would’ve blurted it out had the filming studio been empty. Breaking Dawn was blasting from the speakers behind the MV director, experimenting with some strange angles that you’ve never seen any other MV director try with the group before.

If you thought Reveal was dangerous, this might be worse.

“Okay! Let’s do that hook into the chorus first and we’ll see how that angle goes!”

“Breaking Dawn, I see-”

“Cut! Juyeon-” The director snorts while staring at the monitor from the camera. “That was great but um, we’ll need to rate the video if we release this one.”

Never mind. It is worse.

“Yah, Juyeon!”

“Ahh... seriously?”

“You already have enough screen time, why are you so greedy?!”

The members crowd around Juyeon and shove him playfully as the director films that part from the monitor, and brings his cellphone over to the group to see. You can barely hear the music from the phone, given how far you were standing from the filming area.

The group of 11 burst into loud yells and frustrated groans, with Younghoon and Chanhee giving their iconic ‘OoO’ faces to Juyeon. The main man chuckles, embarrassed, and shakes his head while waving it off.

“I didn’t intend to make it so suggestive, sorry!”

“It’s alright, that was great, really!” The director assures him. “It’s just that we can’t release that without rating the MV, and you guys don’t really have that kind of reputation yet so, we won’t do that for you guys now. But anyways, can we get a 10 minute break and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

The boys celebrate in unison, Eric immediately rushing off for the washroom, some members going to the staff to ask for their phones, others going for the monitor to check their progress and the remaining approaching their stylists for appearance maintenance.

So, when Juyeon approaches you with that sly-mixed-with-shame smile, you can’t help but to shake your head at him.

“Really? He asks you to go all out and you look like you want to eat the camera,” Pulling open your little kit, you set it on the table next to you. You pull out the comb and hairspray and start adjusting his hair again - all that dancing’s pushed some strands out of its rightful position.

“Aw, so you agree that I looked good enough?”

“What?” The pitch is higher than expected, but you hope your feigned annoyance camouflages the pinch of jealousy. “Please! The director said it’ll be rated!”

Juyeon laughs, standing with his feet a little more apart than natural for you to have easier access to his hair.

“Well, you’re the one who did my hair and makeup. If it’s anybody to blame, wouldn’t it be you?”

His words halt the sharp end of your comb in his hair, and you poke it into his scalp for good measure while puffing out your cheeks. He chuckles it off.

“Excuse you, sir, Cre.Ker gave me a color palette and a set of reference pics. Ever since they cracked the code with you with Reveal, they just won’t stop with this genre of style on you.”

“I mean... I definitely prefer my current style over what they did to me in Boy.”

The memory cooks up a bunch of images in your head, and you fail to stop the giggle that runs off your tongue when you return the comb to the kit.

“Aw, come on, that was cute,” Picking up a brow pencil, you fill in the tiny fade-out. “You were, what? 19? No reason for you to look as raunchy as you do now.”

“It’s a pity you only met me just before I become ‘raunchy’.”

“Why? I mean, ‘Juyeon’s not a good boy’ though. Raunchy’s closer to that than what you did pre-Reveal.”

“I meant it!” Juyeon widens his eyes and his brows shift up his forehead just as the tip of the brow pencil lifts off his skin. “I’m happy Cre.Ker’s letting us show what we want to.”

“And I’m happy for you too,” You finish up on his foundation where it’s starting to wear off. “But one day, you’re gonna cross a line and break some hearts.”

Juyeon smiles as you cap on all your equipment and close your kit. Resting one hand on your hip, you quickly give his hair one last poke before he resumes his normal standing position.

“What if I only want to break specific hearts though?”

A frown befalls your face and you forge an ugly look by crooking your lips. “What? Was that an attempt to flirt? Please stop,” Waving him off, you turn and pick up your kit, walking away on your heels as Juyeon tails you.

He’s just practising flirting on me at this point. Best friends and best friends for what? Get MY heart broken? PLEASE.

“Flirt with Kevin if you want, he’ll give you better advice,” You turn to the film area and sure enough, Kevin was busy twerking into the camera and Changmin’s just face palming himself.

“Oi Kevin! Stahb it!” You yell across the space and Changmin points to you, turning to yell at Kevin.

“Yah, even y/n’s telling you to stop!”

Chuckling, you turn into the dressing room as another hair stylist finishes with Sangyeon in the mirror.

“Hello sir, you look kinda tired today, are you resting well?”

“Don’t get me started. Schedule’s packed into June,” Sangyeon subtly shakes his head, but his stylist holds his cheeks and shifts his face back to face the mirror.

“Sangyeon, please face the mirror. It’s not my fault if your hair gets messed up again,” The hair stylist grins as he picks up the hairspray.

“Sorry,” Sangyeon blinks at him and purses his lips. Juyeon crashes into the two seater-sofa in the corner of the dressing room and groans tiresomely, resting his head on the top surface of the headrest.

“Well, you should get some rest before Kingdom kicks in,” You place the kit on the dressing table and sit down in the two-seater next to Juyeon. “It’s not going to be an easy fight, y’know.”

“Right! You used to be ATEEZ’s hairstylist!” Sangyeon’s eyes widen and you can see him struggling not to turn to you directly instead of trying to find you in the strangest angle of the reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah. Those guys are intense, and I mean intense! Six out of eight are known for performance skills and the other two... one produces 99% of their tracks and the other belts out notes even I can’t reach.”

“You sound like you were sent from KQ to intimidate us-” Sunwoo struts in and waves an annoying finger in your face.

“I’m not-” Swatting his finger away, Juyeon leans forward and pulls Sunwoo’s hand. “I’m just saying for good measure- it’s not going to be easy. Stray Kids is also going to be great competition, not to mention iKON and-”

“AhHH, we get it!” Sunwoo shushes you, swinging his hand with Juyeon’s.

“No matter the outcome, you all need to know that you guys were stellar last year. I was new then, but it was absolutely stunning to watch you guys work and put so much effort into your performances.”

“Oh my God, yeah, you could not shut up about the Danger performance,” Sangyeon cooes, letting his stylist finally finishes and shifts to pack the hair equipment.

“I’ll bet it’s cause your best friend over here got the most screen time,” Sunwoo perks up a mischievous brow and smirks at you.

Juyeon’s eyes widen and stares at the youngest, “I didn’t get the most screen time.”

“If not you then who?” Sangyeon butts in as he stands.

“Uh... Changmin?”

Sunwoo and Sangyeon go quiet.

“Yah, you had a good amount of screen time too!” Sangyeon turns and blurts out at Sunwoo, playfully shoving him.

“Y’all are being loud in here,” Kevin’s head pops out from beyond the door frame, one of his stylists tagging behind him and struggling to pat down his clothes.

“No, tell me if Sunwoo had more screentime than Changmin in Danger from last year,” Sangyeon wraps an arm around Sunwoo and slowly walks him out.

“What? I don’t know, Changmin had the opening and the dance break...”

Sangyeon’s hairstylist follows closely, and by instinct, he shuts the door behind him, leaving you with Juyeon in the dressing room. It’s humid, from all the lights turned on in the room, and the leather seat wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sit on.

Turning to Juyeon, his eyes are gently shut, and frankly, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The backrest of the sofa sinks when you lean back, mimicking his position.

“You have like four minutes left so don’t even think of falling asleep.”

“I’m not sleeping,” He offers a tiny smile on his lips, eyes still shut.

“Sure, you’re not.”

“Wake me up when the director needs me.”

“You wish,” The leather under your legs squeak when you push yourself off, but he sticks out an arm at your stomach and pushes you back down. Judging by the miniscule smirk on his face, he’s just messing with you. “What do you think you’re doing? I have a job to do and you have a music video to film.”

He remains quiet. Someone shouts at Eric outside.

“You’re being fucking weird today, sir,” You lift a hand and grab his arm to move it away, but he swiftly wraps his fingers around your wrist and yanks you forward instead.

Using your palms to keep the distance between your faces, you’re hovering above him now, breath on his upper lip. The sweat’s begun to collect in the lines of your palms, stuck to the arm rest by his side and the cushion he’s leaning on.

Your vision immediately darts to his face upon the bold move, and he’s got that slight smile prancing on his lips when he’s thinking of a joke or something funny and doesn’t want to say it. It’s been a good year of being Juyeon’s best friend (apart from the members), so you’ve definitely grown to know how to read him by his actions.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and removing your legs from next to his thighs.

“Juyeon-”

And then he cuts you off by holding you in position with his arm around his waist, challenging your knees to hold you up - because if they buckled, you’ll land right on top of him.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

Knock knock

“y/n, are you done with Juyeon’s hair? Filming’s resuming!”

There’s an awkward tension between you and Juyeon now, with his eyes wide open and staring into yours, arm still around your waist. But having his nose just inches away from yours and his breath breathing down on your philtrum feels so surreal. It feels like it’s a dream that you’ve failed to pull yourself out from.

He parts his lips, then purses them, and sighs through his nose.

“Yeah, she’s done! I’ll be out in like, two seconds!”

Your gaze finds his and you’re panicking when he’s moving again. Within two seconds, you’re flat on your back on the length of the couch - and this time, he’s holding himself above you.

“What the- I-”

“We’ll continue this later back at the company, I promise,” Then he rounds your cheek and presses a kiss into your cheekbone instead.

He pulls back, offering you his kind smile and a ruffle into your hair for good measure. Nothing in your body is working when you hear him shuffle for the door, and it clicks shut behind him, with Breaking Dawn already blasting in the filming space.

Sucking in a deep breath, you don’t realise how hard your heart is thumping in your head until you hear your own shaky exhale. You don’t know where to look, you can still feel his grip on your waist and his breath on your upper lip, and everything’s just a mess right now.

What the Hell just happened?

“Eric - Dior Shirt Size M...” You mumble under your breath, fingers gripping the pen to the clipboard so hard, your writing would probably leave a mark in the sheet under.

“I think this is the last luggage!” Younghoon’s stylist drags the black case in, lining it up with the last unopened one. “Need help?”

“Yeah, just open the luggage for me and separate Sangyeon’s clothes from Jacob’s, but otherwise I can handle it on my own.”

She nods, laying it down and unzipping it for the clothes to spew out. “How’s working here? It’s been over a year, right?”

“Mhm,” You glance at her, obviously tired. “It’s alright, but thanks to your advice since last year, I don’t think it could’ve been better.”

With a kind smile, she looks up at you, placing Sangyeon’s pants over his stack. “You’re experienced from ATEEZ, so it wouldn’t have been that hard anyway.”

She stands, resting her hands on her hips as you walk over, squatting to check Sangyeon and Jacob’s clothes.

“So... what’s going on with you and Juyeon?”

I’d like to know too.

“Huh?” You look up at her, head tilted to the side with a sneaky cocked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, please- All the stylists here know you and Juyeon are like- hanky panky nowadays. Pretty sure the boys know too, or at least have some idea.”

A cackle runs your throat dry as you graduate your attention to Jacob’s clothes. “Is that what they’re calling it? ‘Hanky-panky’? Cute.”

“Do you know why they’re still in a meeting this late?”

“No, why would I bother? As long as I don’t lose my job, it’s none of my concern.”

“They’re in meeting to be informed that their dating ban has been lifted.”

Your grip around the pen tightens, but halts abruptly.

“Ah...” She sighs, contemplated with herself. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say... Juyeon got your-”

Interrupted by the practise room door being pushed open, both of your attentions immediately flit to the new commotion.

“Oh, Juyeon! Meeting’s over?”

“Yeah,” He turns and closes the door behind him. His hair was still waxed up from the day’s schedule, makeup still on but fading. Clothes snug around his shoulders with his belt tight around his hips. Those stupid jeans never did you any good since day 1. “Sangyeon said he left a ring in one of the luggages so he sent me to come get it while he counsels Kevin for twerking.”

“y/n’s just going through Sangyeon’s wardrobe, so she might find something,” Your colleague’s begun to take small, insignificant steps towards the door, and your anxiety begins to increase with every inch she places between the two of you.

“Which is why I’m here,” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets.

“Right, right,” Now, she’s already got her hand on the door knob, glancing past him and at you with wide, glistening eyes. “I gotta go check your wardrobe for tomorrow so... I’mma go now, and uh... security comes by around 12am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What-” You blurt out, receiving a sharp, surprised look from Juyeon.

“Bye! Bye Juyeon!”

“Bye,” He waves.

“No, wait-”

And so, the door clicks shut behind her, and her shadow behind the translucent material disappears down the corridor.

The whir of the air-conditioner in the practice room fills all the awkward openings in the room, but all you can hear is the rapid thunk of your heart in your brain - as if that was even possible.

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk

“About earlier today-”

“Give me a moment while I look for Sangyeon’s ring. What does it look like?” Standing up too fast, your vision goes white and a second of dizziness throws you off your balance.

So, of course, Juyeon rushes over and holds you by your waist before your ankles or knees give way. The incessant blinking makes you wish you could actually pass out right now, because your weight’s in his arms and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Iron deficiency much?” The corner of his lips curl up into his cheek before releasing you. “Do you need to sit down?”

Clearing your throat, you turn away first. “No, I-”

“Good, because I have some points to make and you’re gonna stop running away from them like you’re doing now.”

The change in tone runs chills down your spine and goosebumps erupt all over your skin - thank god you were wearing a blazer, safe from his observation.

“How have you tolerated it so much?” He folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head innocently but his eyes say otherwise. It’s always his eyes that tell a whole different story from the person he’s known to be.

“Y’know, being around me but you’re so calm and collected and I just...” He shakes his head, and to your dismay, takes a step forward - which drives you backwards. “How?”

His voice is too sing-songy. It’s too calm and collected for you because you’re about to barf up your dinner, which was a good 4 hours ago now. There’s nothing left in your stomach to barf up.

He takes another intimidating step and you wince at your inability to look him in the eye.

Another step back.

“Like, I know we’re friends but my God-” Shaking his head, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Another step forward. Another backward.

“It’s upsetting that I can look ‘raunchy’ and it doesn’t seem to do anything to you... But seeing you the way you are every other day makes me want to- just-”

Another step forward.

One more one back.

And your breath halts.

Your back hits the wall, the rear of your skull lined with the pillar.

Oh, no.

Gritting your teeth so tight, your jaw starts to ache and your temples are throbbing.

“I’m not seeing things, right?” A flicker of curiosity sparkles in his eyes when you muster up the courage to look at him - only to regret it instantly. “It’s not in my head that you feel the same way I do, right?”

“I... Don’t know what you’re talking about- You’re an idol... and I’m- I’m just your stylist and I-”

“‘Just my stylist’?” The comment forces his brows into a slight frown, before he lifts his hand and covers the bottom half of his face with his palm. “Rethink what you just said.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest wells with a horrid mix of desire and self-discipline. Those two don’t go well together.

“We can talk about this some other day,” You choose to say, dragging your body along the pillar in a bid to shift out from the wall-Juyeon sandwich like a fool. He lifts his arm and presses his palm into the pillar behind you, caging your poor, poor soul in this fateful corner of his stupid practice room.

“Juyeon, we need... boundaries in this industry. One scandal and it’ll destroy your career.”

“Boundaries?” He buckles his elbows, shrinking the gap between your noses. “Boundaries are for idols who still have a dating ban.”

Breathing down your nose, he’s too close for comfort. You can smell his cologne, the scent of his hair wax and see the bumps on his cheek under the faint layer of makeup. You don’t realise you’re trembling until he tilts his head ever so slightly, free hand reaching up to your chin to steady your face.

“Stop running from me,” Shaking his head painstakingly subtly, he whispers into your lips. “You were mine from the start and you know that.”

The adrenaline rush through your nerves sets off fireworks all over you when he slots his body against yours, lips fitted with yours like puzzle pieces; against the wall, with his palms on your cheeks. There was no care or consideration with how much strength he was channeling into this kiss - it feels so pent-up, so frustrated. Without warning, your body resigns as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Gripping the rim of his collar in your hands, his hands drop to your waist and holds you closer, if it were even possible. A million thoughts race through your head - and at the same time, none. This moment was something you didn’t even know you needed.

Juyeon’s hands roam the small of your back as he keeps you against the wall, relaxing into the kiss and sighing into it instead.

This bliss comes in the form of him. Him who provides you all the sinful wants deep down inside you.

But this bliss doesn’t last, for the practice room door swings open violently and tears Juyeon off you.

“I told you to find my ring, not hook up with your crush!”

464 notes · View notes

nolpat0 · 3 years

Text

love isn't enough | s. crosby

summary: they've decided to take a break to reevaluate their relationship but when she finally returns his text, things have changed

wc: 1,633

warnings: lots of angst ofc

The rough pad of Sidney's thumb brushes over the soft, smooth skin of her calf, a distracted, subconscious habit of affection he developed over the years he's known her. His coffee-hued eyes watch the flickering images of the daily news play across the large-screened TV, a crease forming between his dark brows as he drinks in the information humming in the background. Subconsciously, the flat of his palm presses harder into the unblemished flesh of her legs, prompting her watchful gaze to linger on his illuminated side profile in silent question. He's lost in the depths of his thoughts; his mind rolling around a specific worry. She wonders in hidden curiosity what's prompted the far-away look etched onto his strong features, and what it might be.

"Sidney?" she calls softly, her tone dulcet and calming, the edge of her fingers cascading over the broad flat of his shoulders, catching his attention.

His cinnamon-colored eyes burn into hers with a strange intensity that she's unused to. The edges of her chapped lips twitch as her mind snags on the intensity burning in his irises and what it means. Sidney's pink lips part, as if he's trying to form the words on his tongue and actually breath them to life. She can sense the wheels turning behind the gleam of his eyes, and it sets her nerves on edge, the soft material of his shirt sliding against her thighs as she props herself up, as if physically preparing for whatever he's about to confess.

"Is this it?" he breathes the words out slowly as if testing the way the syllables battle against the hum of the forgotten TV. The taught muscles of her shoulders drop in relaxation as her delicate, sleepy features twitch in a flicker of confusion.

"Is what it?" Sidney watches with a heavy expression as the edges of her lips curl into a confused, genuine smile that she usually gives him whenever his low, heavy-accented mumbles reach her.

Swallowing the sudden lump formed in his throat, Sidney steels himself, the tightening flicker in his strong jaw sending a new wave of apprehension through her tensed, upright body. The soft tips of her fingers fall from the thick material of his gray t-shirt and he feels the absence of her warmth-filled touch like an ache that's settled into the marrow of his bones. But he forces the sharp-edged words from his tight throat.

"Us. Are we gonna pretend that something isn't wrong here?" as soon as the words hit the air, Sidney knows they sound wrong; a cruel twist to the intended soft lilt of guilt. He's trying to plead with her, beg her to understand they want different things and the divergence is increasingly clear in every one of their late, star-lit, wine-fueled conversations. Sidney wants her to understand what he's saying, but the syllables rearranged themselves, sketching him the antagonist. The shock and waver of her easy expression rip through the soft tissue of his heart and burrows deep.

"I can't pretend if I don't know what's wrong, Sidney."

Her words are soft, a raw tenderness that almost has him flinching back, knowing he doesn't deserve the helpless look smoothing over her features or her permissive tone. She's giving him a chance to go back and restart his confession.

So he slides his hands against the smooth skin of her thighs, rough palms brushing against the worn fabric of his t-shirt that's draped over her figure until the curve of his fingers fits over hers. His dark eyes bore into hers, the quiver of his brows telling her how much he's hating the conversation.

"We want different things," he says firmly, his full lips drawn in a tight line. "Eventually," a whisper of a loose breath through teeth as he pulls together every loose, weakened string of himself and yanking them together so he can give her the graciousness of a soft, mutual goodbye. ".. we would've grown apart. Maybe we just need to step back and evaluate what we want in life outside of each other, and then see if we can do those things together."

She takes in the serious, unrelenting tone of his firmly confident words, and understands this is what he must've whispered to himself over and over, selecting and choosing words to hand to her; to let her down easy. Before she gives in to the request, she allows her silver-lined eyes to drink in the curve of his full lips, the gleam of his caramel-hued eyes, the unruly angles of his midnight locks, and the sharp lines of his strong features. She quietly places each memorization in a specific category in her mind; saving the last, unblemished memory of her Sidney.

"Do you want that, Sidney?"

Another sharp whistle of his breath sounds as his chest contracts painfully, the arrow of her permissiveness twisting deeper, searing apart nerves and blood vessels. It's a necessary wound- for survival- but he wonders if it'll scar permanently and leave a sour taste between his molars and tongue. But he hates the ceaseless, aching feeling, the sorrowfully understanding look she's wearing, and the fact he has to do this.

"It'll only be a step back," he quickly assures, fingers tightening against the joints of hers, suddenly fearful that he won't know how to sleep between the cold sheets without the press of her cheek against his bare chest or her scent lingering in the gray bedding. Or that he'll find himself lost in the rows of the grocery store without the messy scrawl of her hand on brightly colored sticky notes clasped in his fist. The breath in his lungs is stolen at the future now clearly outlined; devoid of her silvery laughter and the wink of her smiling eyes.

"Step back?" she retracts slowly, the bones of her fingers sliding from his as she physically recoils at the words, brow creased in concern. "What does that even mean, Sid?"

"Just a few weeks- not even," his words curl into a panicked octave of heartache, the tips of his lashes beaded with unshed, salty tears.

"Weeks?"

Sidney hears the hopelessness laced in her disbelieving tone, and his breath hitches, now returned with a bruising weight as he feels the situation spin wildly out of his control. He watches the emotions flit across her face, the understanding ruining the last ruins of composure she has, releasing the tears she's fighting in minuscule rivers down her flushed cheeks.

"If you think it's best," she whispers, the subdued decibels yanking savagely at the carefully replaced strings of himself, threatening to break. Her silver-lined eyes slide to meet his, hardened and determined. "Maybe it'll be good."

Sidney nods quickly, his thumbs returning to their habitual place on the tops of her thighs, a comforting motion that they understand is a final goodbye. His soft lips press against the crown of her head, a proclamation of his love whispered in her hair, too quiet for her ears to pick up as he pulls away.

"Two weeks, okay?" he promises, the gravel lilt to his voice tenderly soft.

"Two weeks."

———

The unforgivingly promised timeline of their reunion expires sourly, the date pushed back in an anxiously guilty voicemail left on her phone in the early morning of the Sunday, explaining how even though Sidney detested the eerie silence that seeped into his apartment without her off-key humming, he needed to know she wasn't conforming to his futuristic dreams for the sake of not losing him. So she settled into the itchy, unfamiliar fabric of her couch, stretching out her legs, frowning at the absence of Sidney's fingertips, and packed her emotions in a flimsy cardboard box and hid it in the back of her closet in her mind, sending the dark-haired man a simple text allowing him his request and agreeing that maybe she did need to find out her own wishes.

———

He pressed the screen of his phone to the couch, red-rimmed eyes staring in an empty reverie at the blank screen, the familiar press of heartbreak on his sternum knotted his shoulders and ached in his rough palms. In these moments, he craved her presence; aching for her mid-night kisses against his temple when she woke up, or the scuff of her feet against the hard-wood as she moved down the hall, the tilt of her head as she sang along to the music she played when they cooked. In these moments, when he felt as if the very bones of his ribs were caving in and piercing his shattered heart, he wanted the press of her palm in his or the comfort of her words. But now, Sidney can't feel the warmth buzzing in his hands from her touch or the slide of her skin against his and he feels lost, disoriented without the steadiness of her unconditional love. He wonders what moment over the tedious course of two months was the one where he lost her.

His dark eyes flicker to the flipped-over phone laying on the couch's soft surface, the burn against his cornea's too much for him to fight, and he allows the salty flow of his tears to bring him to his knees. A shaky, broken breath surpasses his chapped lips as his lashes brush his cheek, guarding himself against the text of betrayal lingering on his phone. He tries to rid his mind of the memorized line of text, but the words cling to him, refusing to let him slip away from his misery.

You were right, Sidney. We don't want the same things, and sometimes, even love isn't enough.

Sidney desperately wished it wasn't true, and that they both ended up being right, but he couldn't run from the truth. Sometimes, love really wasn't enough.

158 notes · View notes

theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Note

I was looking through your older requests and stuff from 3rd life, and I remembered the one with Scott and Jimmy nearly getting sacrificed to Dogwarts and I thought hmmm...demons, red aesthetics, a generally more powerful side?

Basically, I think it would be cool to have a version of that with Sausage and fWhip trying to sacrifice Jimmy.

(And wow, Jimmy really can't get a break with religious tones after EVO, huh?)

THIS. is genuinely one of my favourite things i've ever written, if not THE favourite. i'm so so proud of it :D

cw beating, blood

…

Jimmy no longer has the energy to scream or fight. Having been beaten periodically throughout the day, his chest and neck are in too much pain for him to move. Sitting slumped in the tiny cell he’s been put in with his hands tied behind his back, all he can do is keep fighting against the dull pain all over his body threatening to drag him into unconsciousness.

All he can do is keep fighting to stay awake.

Finally, they come for him. Led by fWhip, Sausage pulls Jimmy out of the former’s base and out to the altar that’s been set up in the centre of Sausage’s castle.

Jimmy knows exactly what’s coming. Neither fWhip nor Sausage has made any secret of what they intend to do to him. And after a full day of being kept in a cell, hands tied behind him, beaten every time he tried to escape or fight back, he doesn’t have the strength to try and stop it.

As they push him onto the altar, Jimmy stumbles. As a response, Sausage hits him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground. Seconds from passing out, Jimmy is powerless to stop Sausage from pulling him up onto his knees.

Coughing weakly, Jimmy slowly lifts his head to look at his captors. “Wh-Why are you doing this…?” he croaks. “What did I do…?”

“Sorry Jimmy, but Xornoth demands a sacrifice,” fWhip responds, and Jimmy can almost hear a twinge of genuine remorse in his voice.

Jimmy tries to push himself up in one final desperate attempt to escape but his chest and throat are screaming in pain and he’s unable to stop Sausage from pushing him back down and holding him in place.

“Please…!” he rasps, pulling weakly at the ropes binding his wrists. “Please…”

Neither of them respond as Sausage pushes Jimmy’s head down and fWhip lifts the axe.

Tears fall from Jimmy’s bruised eyes. He wishes he could fight back but he barely has the strength to stay conscious. If he has to die, he’ll die with as much dignity as he can.

“STOP!”

Jimmy again lifts his head, and though he can’t see very well through his blurred vision, he can make out a figure standing on the wall several blocks away.

“Pixl,” Sausage growls.

fWhip’s demeanour completely changes. All his remorse and carefulness disappears as he roughly hauls Jimmy to his feet by the scruff of his neck and holds his sword against his throat, angling Jimmy in front of him like a human shield.

“Don’t come any closer,” he says coldly but calmly.

“Let Jimmy go,” Pixl orders, lifting his trident and aiming it directly at fWhip. “Now.”

fWhip’s grip on Jimmy tightens. “You’re in no position to bargain. One quick movement and we’ll see how much blood the Codfather has inside him.”

Nausea rises in Pixl’s stomach at the grisly mental image. “I’m not saying this again, fWhip: LET. JIMMY. GO.”

“How did you know to come here?” Sausage snaps suddenly. “You live thousands of blocks away!”

“I told him.”

It takes Jimmy’s fuzzy mind a moment to recognise this new voice but when he does, his heart skips a beat.

“Scott?” A hint of surprise is audible in fWhip’s voice. “Why would you do that?”

“Because what you’re doing is barbaric,” replies Scott icily. “Now listen to the Copper King and let Jimmy go.”

“What do we do?” whispers Sausage to his ally.

fWhip narrows his eyes, his analytical mind trying to calculate the odds of him winning this fight.

As he does, he twists the sword in his hand and nicks Jimmy’s neck with the sharp blade, causing him to let out a semi-conscious cry of pain.

That sound triggers something in Pixl and he lets his trident fly. His aim is remarkable and it slams into a tiny piece of fWhip’s armour visible just to the side of Jimmy.

fWhip staggers back, releasing his grip on the Cod Empire ruler, who collapses to the floor like a stone. “Retreat,” he hisses to Sausage. “We won’t win this fight.”

Sausage, clearly needing no further encouragement, takes off into the air with his elytra, followed closely by fWhip.

Immediately, Pixl and Scott both rush to the unconscious Jimmy’s side. Scott pulls out his dagger and cleanly slices through the ropes binding Jimmy’s wrists, while Pixl carefully rolls him into a position on his back.

“Jimmy!” he gently cups his friend’s cheek as he leans close, trying to awaken him. “Jimmy, can you hear me?”

When he gets no reply, a horrifying thought occurs to him and he hurriedly checks Jimmy’s pulse.

“He’s alive,” he says in relief. “But only just.”

“He’s really beaten up,” Scott observes shakily. “How could fWhip and Sausage do this to him…?”

Pixl carefully lifts Jimmy into his arms and straightens up, making sure Jimmy’s head is secure against his chest. When he speaks, his voice is low and barely controlled. “I don’t know. But we need to get his injuries seen to as soon as possible.”

“Take him to his house,” says Scott. “Gem and I have been working on healing magic so I’ll fly over and get some of that to help him.”

“Okay. Good luck.”

“You too.”

As Scott takes off into the air, Pixl rushes back to Jimmy’s house and carefully lays him down on the bed. As he removes Jimmy’s gloves, he spots bulging red burn marks left over from where the ropes dug into his wrists.

This simple sight almost unleashes Pixl’s barely-contained fury. Tears of anger spring to his eyes as he gazes down at the bruised face of his unconscious friend, twisted in pain even in sleep.

He turns his head to look out at the darkness through the window. fWhip and Sausage needed a sacrifice for their stupid demon and they chose the easiest target. It makes Pixl’s blood boil to see them continually pick on Jimmy just because he’s unable to fight back.

A weak cough brings Pixl’s attention back to his injured friend. To his horror, he sees blood pooling at the corner of Jimmy’s mouth, so he leans down and checks his young friend’s breathing.

As he’s doing this, Scott returns, holding a leather pouch in his hands. “How’s he doing?” he asks worriedly.

“He’s not breathing well,” says Pixl quietly. “And he’s coughing up blood. A few more minutes and we may lose him. What have you got?”

“I have a healing crystal,” Scott reports, pulling a magenta crystal out of the pouch in his hands. “It should heal any internal injuries and ease his pain, but external injuries won’t be affected.”

“That’s fine. Do it.”

Scott moves over to Jimmy’s bedside and closes his eyes as he holds the crystal over Jimmy’s body. The crystal glows magenta, and similar-coloured energy starts to flow from it into Jimmy.

Pixl watches this with interest. He’s never had an affinity for nature magic and it intrigues him how crystals can have such magical properties. But soon his interest is outweighed by the relief that the colour has returned to Jimmy’s skin and his chest isn’t heaving so much anymore.

Finally, Scott lowers the crystal, which has stopped glowing, and tucks it back into the bag. “That should help,” he says.

“Good,” murmurs Pixl. “He looks like he’s breathing easier.”

Scott nods, not trusting himself to speak again.

A brief pause follows.

“I want to ask you something,” Pixl says, in a tone that makes it clear he expects no argument. “Why did you call me?”

Scott glances at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You’re on their side. Why would you want to go against them like that?”

After a moment, Scott looks away. “Because a long time ago, Jimmy told me he didn’t want to look me in the eyes as I get sacrificed on an altar; I realised earlier that I didn’t want the reverse.”

Pixl nods slowly. He, like many others, heard about what happened on 3rd Life and even though he isn’t aware of specifics, he can’t help thinking that Scott’s remark is tied into that.

Scott lifts Jimmy’s limp hand and pushes back his sleeve slightly to reveal the burn marks that Pixl noticed earlier. He gives a deep frown as he tenderly traces the mark with his finger. “I don’t understand how they can do something like this to someone they once called their friend,” he murmurs. “No matter how much things have changed, he… They… You just don’t do that to someone.”

Pixl nods again as Scott carefully places Jimmy’s arm back down on the bed. As he turns to leave, he again glances back at Jimmy and hesitates. After a moment, he reaches out and gently brushes the bruise over Jimmy’s eye with the backs of his fingers, unable to hide a deep frown of worry.

“Why do you treat him so coldly all the time?” Pixl asks. “You clearly care for him a great deal and he cares about you. Why do you continue to push him away?”

Scott takes a moment to compose himself and steady his voice before he replies. “I’ve already gone through the pain of losing him once. I can’t do it again. I’m sorry, but I have to go now.”

Pixl almost argues but thinks better of it. “Okay. Thank you, Scott. For calling me and for helping Jimmy.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Pixl.”

“Goodnight.”

After Scott has left, Pixl locks the door behind him and pulls up a chair next to Jimmy’s bed. His friend’s face is a lot less pale than it was, though the bruise over his left eye and the thin cut in his neck are still very much visible.

Feeling a wave of affection and protectiveness, Pixl gently strokes Jimmy’s shoulder and takes a great deal of relief from seeing a small smile appear on Jimmy’s face in his sleep. Every instinct in his body is urging him to fly out there and enact vicious revenge on the people who did this to his friend.

“I’ll make them pay for hurting you,” he vows quietly. “I swear.”

#empires smp #pixlriffs #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #smajor1995 #scott smajor #fwhip #mythicalsausage #vaunna’s requests

163 notes · View notes

babyflossy · 4 years

Text

you have to wait | n.jm

pairing; jaemin x fem!reader

summary; you weren’t sure how jaemin stayed so calm every time you decided to tease him, but you aren’t going to complain.

genre/warnings; softdom!jaemin, smut, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, teasing, overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lowkey kinda filthy

word count; 3k lmao i’m going to hell

if you were asked why you found teasing jaemin the most fun thing in the world, you wouldn't be able to give a straight answer. there was just something about the harsh angle of his jaw when he clenches it, and the way his fingers leave hot trails up and down your thighs when you sit next to him that is simply addicting. in fact, jaemin himself is addicting to you, and you are weak to his power over you.

tonight is no different and you see the familiar twitch of his eyebrow when you let your hand trail a little too high on his thigh. under the dim lights of the restaurant, you doubt anyone would even notice what you're doing, but you can tell it's annoying him anyway. a larger hand covers your own and he looks down at you with sharp eyes, pulling your hand off him and back onto the tablecloth.

for the next few minutes, you decide to let him eat in peace, sipping your drink every now and then, making sure to lick the excess off your lips a little too slowly. he doesn't fail to notice and you watch in satisfaction as his eyes drop to watch the movement. as if realising he's falling into your trap his eyes snap back to his food, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows harshly.

"don't you think it's a little hot in here?" your voice sounds innocent enough but jaemin freezes when you pull on the straps of your dress, the neckline slipping far too low for his liking. it's obvious to him what you're trying to do and he refrains from rolling his eyes. you were always one to push his buttons at times like this.

a few quiet moments pass, the lull of the chatter in the restaurant making it so much easier for him to focus on the trail of sparkles your necklace leaves as it slips far further down your chest. he gulps again, mind flitting between filthy images of you in nothing but that necklace and the dainty heels adorning your feet. then your hand is back on his thigh and his jaw clenches again, regaining his composure.

the way he murmurs your name is stern but not intimidating, simply a warning that you need to stop before he loses his patience. you pretend to contemplate his thinly veiled threat, thinking about the two possible outcomes. did you want him rough or not? you think back to last time you made him angry, the hickeys and the bruises from his fingertips and decide you don’t want it that rough tonight. with a sly smile you remove your hand, instead choosing to toy with the cutlery.

the rest of your dinner passes in much the same way; playing with the cuffs of jaemin’s suit jacket, twirling the pearls of your earrings with your fingers delicately, all whilst shooting him the same smile you hope is pure enough for your intentions to be concealed to the people around. at one point you manage to sneak your hand up the whole expanse of his thigh to the quickly hardening bulge and he nearly chokes on his water, cheeks flushing and strong fingers prying you off him. “you have to wait until we get home, baby.”

the words provoke a whine from you and jaemin huffs out a laugh, secretly loving how you always seem so desperate for him. after a few more pointed glances and lingering touches he stand abruptly, waving over the waiter and throwing a stack of notes onto the table.

you try to suppress a smirk as he guides you out the restaurant, hands on your hips keeping you in front of him to cover the obvious erection in his pants. hsi breath is hot on your neck as he thanks the waiter holding the door open for you.

once outside he pulls you beside him, an arm wraps around your waist and he looks down at you with an almost unimpressed expression. “you need to learn a lesson in patience, angel.” whatever commanding tone he’s going for is muffled by the giggle he lets out when you start pressing feathery kisses to his cheek.

“it’s not my fault you look like a literal god in that suit, jaemin.” the compliment tints the tops of his cheeks pink and you kiss his nose for good measure.

“well, you look simply delectable in that dress, baby.” his voice doesn’t change but he stares you down with something darker in his eyes that has your thighs pressing together. jaemin notices and smirks, pulling you to the car quicker.

the elevator ride up to your shared apartment is tense and the final ding signaling you were on your floor sounded like music to your ears. jaemin slips his hand into your and pulls you down the hallway, fishing out his keys and unlocking the door in record speed. he kicks it shut behind you and you’re pushed against the wood before you can register what’s happening.

jaemin’s lips are hot with need, pushing against yours with such ferosity you grip his shoulders to anchor yourself. for a moment, he drops to your neck and sucks harshly on the delicate skin under your ear, blowing on the spot as he pulls away and it makes you shiver. he wastes no time in fisting the fabric of your dress around your waist, tapping your thigh to tell you to jump. once your legs wrap around his hips he expertly manouvoerus you into the bedroom without breaking away from your lips.

moonlight shines through the room to your face as jaemin throws you onto the bed, taking a second to admire the ethereal glow of the watery filter. once against impatient, you lock your hands behind his head and pull his lips to meet yours in a fiery kiss. there’s nothing aggressive about it tonight, only hot and needy but still careful.

one of jaemin’s warm palms tips your head up to enable him to deepen the kiss, nibbling on your bottom in a way that makes you gasp. he takes the oppurtunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, sucking your own to the rythmn of his hands moving up your body.

they stop on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh under your dress and making you let out a moan that sounds desperate even to your own ears. it goes straight to jaemin’s dick, however, and he reaches down between your bodies to rub at the tops of your thighs.

sick of waiting, you break away to tell him to hurry up but words die on your tongue and morph to a whimper as his fingers ghost over your clit, settling on either side of the sensitive bud and pulling. the movement elicits another feeble whimper and a buck of your hips to try and get more. he chuckles, finally pushing your soaked panties down your legs and throwing them into the room behind him.

without the wet fabric blocking him, jaemin can pull his fingers through your folds, cursing at how wet you are. “fuck, baby,” he groans into your neck, “you need me that badly, huh?” you’re not sure how his teasing manages to still affect you after so long together but the words still make your thighs close involuntarily.

he treats you to one quick circle of your clit before he pulls away, dropping himself to lie inbetween your legs, head resting on your chest and eyes staring up at you deceptively innocenlty. you know what he wants you to do and you don’t stop the roll of your eyes. “go on, sweetie.” his voice is sickly sweet and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

“really? haven’t we done this enough already?”

“none of this sounds much like begging, baby.” as if to rub in his power over you, he pushes himself up onto his arms and makes to move away. “i can handle myself if you don’t want to–”

“no, no, no,” whatever pride you have left is buried immediately and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to prevent him moving away. “please, jaems, i need you so badly.” to your disappointment, he still doesn’t look convinced and you swallow the last remnants of your dignity before leaning up to his ear to whipser, “i need your cock so so badly, daddy.”

delight fills you when you feel him freeze, mocking smile fading from his face as his dark eyes meet yours again. “such a needy baby.” this is a good sign, you know, and you feel excitement fill you instantly as you realise what he’s goingto say next. "tell me what you need."

you could cry with happiness, instead choosing to crash your lips against his again. this time it’s messier, teeth clashing and lips bruising but he still pulls away with a smile. “fingers, please, i need your fingers, jaem–”

just as he’s making his way down your body he pauses and shoots you a pointed look. “ah, ah, ah. what do we call me?”

“daddy.”

“that’s a good girl.” you hate how the words make your heart flutter.

just as you wished, you feel cold fingers prodding at your entrance. slowly, he eases two in and you groan at the stretch, leaning into his shoulder and pressing kisses to the base of his neck. the pace he sets is unforgiving and you moan loudly when the tips of his fingers tap the soft spot in your that makes your vision swim. “right there?” he coaxes another moan from you when he focuses on that spot specifically, pulling his thumb up to rub at your clit.

“fuck,” your breathing is uneven, chest heaving as you bite into his shoulder. all you can do is chant curses as the knot in your stomach tightens quickly. “i’m gonna cum.”

“already?” the teasing’s back. fantastic, you think dryly. “but, baby, i’ve barely done anything.” despite his words, he doesn’t slow down his fingers, instead choosing to do the opposite and speed up until the lewd sounds of your wetness overpower your whimpers. “let go, angel, daddy’s got you.”

you cum over his fingers with a cry, legs shaking and eyes screwed shut as his fingers keep their unforgiving pace. when the aftershocks have calmed down but his fingers haven’t you look down at him to find him staring up at you with a cheeky grin. the thumb on your clit presses down harder and your hips buck involuntarily at the overstimualtion.

jaemin’s free hand pulls at your dress’s loose neckline until your lacy bra is exposed. the hand travels inside one of the cups, pulling your nipple in a way you can only moan at. at this point, everything else has faded to the background, the only thing you can focus on his hands that are barrelling you towards a second orgasm before your first one has even worn off.

“you gonna cum again, princess?” just as his voice breaks through your blissed out haze, his lips drop to your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth. your teetering on the edge of bliss once again and the soft grazing of his theeth on your clit and his fingers pressing into your g-spot finally push you over. colours burst behind your eyelids and you chant his name like a mantra, unable to stop your legs closing around his head.

when he at last pulls away from you, you’re trying to catch your breath, eyes still shut and legs still jolting. "look at you, such a mess." he mumbles before his lips encase your own. you can taste your own sweetness on his tongue as he licks around your mouth.

it’s only then that you remember jaemin’s still completely clothed, his suit looking painfully tight over his crotch. as if reading your mind he sits up, slipping his arms through his jacket as you finger at his tie until it loosens enough for you to pull it over his head. now free of the most restrictive items, you grasp at his belt buckle before he helps you, laughing at the frustrated sigh you let out.

jaemin wastes no longer and pulls his slacks and boxers down his legs, kicking them off the egde of the bed. once free of the clothing, he pulls your own dress up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but your heels that you still haven’t taken off and his favourite red lace bra. he slips his hand under you to unclip the lingerie and pulls it from you.

“my heels–” you protest as he flips you over, pulling your knees up to get you in position.

“leave them on, they make your legs look sexy.” if you were in any other circumstance you would have laughed and teased him but the tone of his voice is deadly serious and you back off. “can you take me now, or do you need a minute?”

sure, your thighs ache, and you still haven’t caught your breath, but the fear of disappointing him is too strong for you to argue. “now.”

“are you sure? you just came twice in a row–”

“please, daddy.”

you hear him curse, rubbing the arch of your back before he leans down to kiss between your shoulder blades. “fuck, baby, you have no idea what you do to me.” hands grope at your ass and jaemin pumps himself a few times before bumping his tip on your clit. you tense as he starts pushing in but one swipe of your clit and you’re putty in his hands. literally.

the strength abandones your arms and your head falls into the pillows as he bottoms out, groaing deeply at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. slowly, he pulls out and slams back in, the harshness of the action making you bite the pillow to muffle your scream. jaemin notices and loops his hands around your shoulders, pulling you up so your back is flush to his chest, one hand staying around your waist to keep you upright. “i wanna hear you, babygirl.”

his dick stretches you so perfectly you have to find purchase on his thighs to keep yourself grounded. your head lolls back onto his shoulder when he hits your sweet spot again, nothing but a high pitched whine leaving your lips. it’s different to your normal moans, desperate and sharp and it makes jaemin’s hip stutter. he doesn’t wait to tell you how you much he loves it. "god, the noises you make are incredible."

as if to prove his point, another strong circle over your clit and it draws the same noise from you. he keeps his fingers there, resting two on either side of your bud and pulling, just like he did earlier, but this time it feels so much stronger after all the pleasure that’s been loaded on you. “daddy,” you choke out, head turning to suck at the stop under his ear that pulls a moan from him. “i’m so close.” as the coil in your abdomen tightens his pace increases until your moans are so loud you’re sure the neighbours can hear.

jaemin doesn’t seem to care, however, only encouraging you on. "c'mon, angel, i know you can be louder than that." and you are, as he delivers a particularly storng thrust that pushes you straight over the edge of ecstasy again, your third orgasm crashing down onto you unforgivingly.

when the thrusting of hips doesn’t let up you go slack in his arms. “i can’t– jaemin, it’s too much–”

he shushes you before you can finish, dropping his head to press a gentle kiss to your lips. it’s delicate and loving and to oppose to how he’s handling you and it leaves you dizzy. “can you be a good girl and take it? do it for daddy.” you’re shaking as he chases his own high. you want– no you need– to show him how good you can be for him and you grip your hands over his where they rest on your torso. “i’m so close baby, you’re doing so well for me.”

with a few final thrusts and you clenching around him, he’s spilling into you, hips stilling to press himself as deep as possible into your tight core. the moans he lets out into your ear are raspy and deep and nothing short of angelic. you shiver as he pulls out, his cum starting to drip down your thighs and he sets you down on the mattress as if you were made of glass.

“you did so well, baby,” he giggles when he lays down beside you. all he manages to get out of you is a sleepy smile. “i’m gonna clean you up, okay?”

you don’t have the energy to reply and feel your eyes drooping as he brings a warm cloth to clean the sweat and cum off you legs. when he’s finished, he drops it in the bathroom and moves back to you, stroking your legs comfortingly as he pulls your shoes off, setting them gently in front of the wardrobe before finally slipping into bed with you.

the covers are pulled over you and you feel his arms pull you into him. “i love you.” you mumble a reply and bury your face into his chest, thoroughly worn out but also feeling strangely warm.

the last thing you remember before you slip into sleep is jaemin’s soft words as he kisses up and down the sides of you face and you smile.

1K notes · View notes

psychewithwings · 3 years

Text

Relflections

hello, hello,

welcome to the dark side... this is my second collab with bnharem. Please, please, read through the rest of the collab list HERE. I am so grateful to be working with so many other talented writers and artists on this. Special shout out to @doinmybesthere for beta reading and for @kuso-deku whom I dedicate this piece fror giving me the Mirio brain rot...

TW: NSFW, 18++++ Villains, dub-con moments, sex, violence, YANDERE MIRIO, two crazy people, inter dimensional travel, killing, mentions of blood, dirty talk, some cum play

Around 7000 words

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

You flip off the television and rise from your seat on the couch. Your roommate and the object of your affection had already left for the night. Mirio would never obey that curfew, not as long as there were people he could be saving. That’s Mirio for you… always being the hero, even if he’d lost his quirk ages ago. But ever since the onslaught of new villains, and heroes turning to the darkside you’re patching him up more than normal… He returns with wounds more serious now, the scars abundant on his once smooth skin. He is becoming a reflection of the ruin and carnage that floods the streets. This is why you had come up with, planned out, and prepared for a way to fix everything. You could never stop him from being a hero, it was who he was… but you can get his quirk back…

You check your pocket one last time… it’s there, wrapped in that small blue handkerchief. You examine the strange item one last time, careful not to prick yourself with it by mistake. It’s shaped like a sewing pin, only slightly larger. One prick, that’s all it takes, one prick and it will absorb the power from the first thing that it touches. Then one more prick, and the next thing it touches will absorb the gathered power. One chance, that’s all you have.

You grip the chain around your neck and pull the locket out from inside your shirt. You read the engraving on the back, as you always do, and you smile.

Come back to me ~ Mirio

It had been a gift, something to help you when you were learning how to use your quirk. The going part had always been easy, it was the returning from your travels that had been difficult. You open the locket, one side is a watch, the other a mirror. You check the time and write it down to the second on your arm in biro.

7:43. 26 PM

You have 8 hours exactly and you fear you’ll need much more time than that. But your quirk’s limits are not forgiving in the slightest. A second longer and you’ll die.

You take a deep breath, eyes now focussing on the mirror side of the locket. You’d returned this way ever since Mirio gave you the locket, but never once travelled forward through the mirror before. You meet your own eyes and start to feel the familiar pull, your face turning that strange shade of blue.

Please let this work. Please, take me to Mirio.

The gravity in the mirror builds and you can feel the surging power of your quirk. You feel yourself meet your reflection, becoming one with it for a split second before you’re absorbed to the other side of the mirror.

You land in a darkened alley. The smell of stale beer and piss invading your senses, making your head swim even more than normal. The thickness of the summer air does nothing to help. It doesn't matter how many times you use your quirk, it always leaves you dizzy, disoriented. But that was to be expected when travelling to another dimension. Your quirk was dubbed Mirror Image, it allowed you to travel to different dimensions by looking at your own reflection.

You check your pockets again… it’s still there. The “quirk extractor”, that’s not really what it was called but you’d forgotten the actual name of it. It had taken trying quite a few different dimensions to find something like it. It was very possible that you might never find that place again. You had to treat this like it was the only one in existence, afterall, it was the only one in this existence. But where exactly was this existence?

You blink, vision clearing and you examine the alley. It looks like a regular alley, slimy brick walls, dumpster, broken liquor bottles. A few people walk past on the main street, their laughter echoing off the alley’s walls. A lightbulb buzzes over a shut metal door. But there was no Mirio. The plan was to find a mirror Mirio, a Mirio that had never lost his quirk... extract this Mirio’s quirk and bring it back to your Mirio, the Mirio you loved.

You had done enough dimensional travel to know that every version of the self was weirdly connected. That’s why you had travelled forward through the mirror he had given you this time. You had hoped it would bring you to another Mirio, since the mirror had never failed to take you back to him… even if you were in a strange corner of the universe. But alas, it was like travelling through any other reflection. As usual, you stand in an unknown location, trying your best to figure out where you’ve ended up.

You kick a stray tin can in frustration as you walk towards the more populated streets. You laugh at your own stupidity. You knew the real reason you were doing this. Maybe, this act of love, retrieving his stolen quirk would change his mind. Maybe he would take back what he had said all those years ago… the words that would never stop ringing in your ears.

You’re standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go when the sound of rusty hinges snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to look back down the dim lit alley. A man with shaggy blue hair exits the building, his red eyes gleam and your heart drops. It’s hard to see but you’d know his face anywhere, he’s practically taken over your city, Shigaraki Tomura. Take a few steps to where you’re concealed by the wall of the building. He speaks to someone who is still inside the building. You angle your head to try and hear over the busy street. “They’ve just been getting in the way is all, and I need you to get them out of the way… see?”

Why did your quirk take you to Shigaraki when you had specifically thought of Mirio? The streetlight’s shadows help to hide your shape. You peek around to see who he is talking to. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the tall blonde exit from the building’s wall. Mirio. You watch as he leans his shoulder against the brick from which he just emerged. He looks taller, stronger, and still has his quirk… would your Mirio have looked like this if his power had never been robbed? His grey tshirt is pulled tight around his body and his usually done hair is ungelled, almost messy, bangs hanging just above his eyes. “That’s easy, you have anything actually worth my time?” he jokes. Shigaraki looks unamused, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Just do it, and don’t make it so messy this time… you tend to leave a trail wherever you go,” Shigaraki scolds. Mirio grins, but it’s not the same warm smile you’d grown to love, this smile is darker, more sinister. “I’ll take care of it boss, sheesh, you worry too much,” he rolls his shoulder on the wall until his back is flush against the brick. He pushes off of it and heads towards the end of the alley. You panic as he heads your way. “It’s that hotel on the corner of Roosevelt and Third,” Shigaraki screeches after Mirio who gives him a wave of his hand. “If you weren’t so useful I’d kill you,” Shigaraki adds. Mirio’s laugh bounces off of the alley walls. “You could try,” he calls as he rounds the corner, just passing you as you crouch near some bags of garbage praying he doesn’t notice you. But he passes you, languidly walking towards the destination he was just given by Shigaraki Tomura. That’s when it hits you… by going through Mirio’s mirror, you have found yourself a mirror Mirio. An exact opposite to the man you know.

The thoughts are swirling around in your head but there’s no time to sort through them… you have to follow him. You slowly rise from your hiding place and melt into the crowds of people. It’s lucky that Mirio is so tall, it makes him easy to follow from a safe distance away. The crowded main streets turn to less populated side streets and you have to maneuver accordingly to stay well hidden. Mirio approaches a building with a neon sign that spells out HOTEL in red letters. A glowing arrow points to the double doors at the front of the building. He hurries up the steps before slipping inside.

You follow close behind to make sure not to lose him inside but leave a long enough gap so that it isn’t too obvious. Upon entering, you’re met with the old red carpet that should have been replaced twenty years ago. Dust clings to the fabric of the sofa and cobwebs dangle from the antique crystal chandelier. The floor is well polished however, reflecting the lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s strange that there’s no clerk at the desk but a few people piddle about the lobby. A man makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brow in confusion. A woman in a short, low cut dress slips her hand below another man's belt and whispers something in his ear. No one blinks when Mirio makes a beeline down the hallway to the left. This was not an ordinary hotel. You walk calmly after Mirio and peer down the long dark corridor. There’s not sight of him but you watch the door at the end of the hall close. There. The lights in this section of the hall are off and everything seems quiet, whereas the hall to the right was lit and loud. Sounds of pleasure and partying spilling from underneath each door. You curse Mirio for walking down the more sinister path and follow begrudgingly.

The hall is dark save one room where hysterical cries seep out. You don’t want to know what was going on and instead keep your eyes trained on the small bit of light that pours from the window inside that end door. Upon closer inspection there is a coating of condensation on the glass. This must be the pool.

You retrieve the quirk extractor from your pocket and remove it from it’s wrapping, careful not to prick yourself. You slowly open the door he had gone through just moments ago. You slid inside the door slowly and carefully, making more sound than you would have liked, but it can’t be helped. Any sound easily bounces off the water of the glistening blue pool. The smell of chlorine is overwhelming and you start to realise that there aren’t very many good hiding places in a place like this.... And Mirio is nowhere to be found. You grip the quirk extractor as you hear a door towards the back of the room slam shut. Another exit… your footsteps echo far more than you would like for them to as you head towards the door.

“Gotchya.”

The voice startles you. Your grip on the quirk extractor falters, coupled with the way you jump… you watch as it slowly descends into the water, effectively pricking the pool. The ball at the end of the extractor emits a green light as it sinks to the bottom. “You idiot!” you shout before you can think better of it. Mirio steps from the wall and quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Me idiot? You’re the one following me with the stealth of one of the 3 stooges.”

He looks even more dangerous up close. A long scar descends from his chin down his neck. And while his eyes are the same colour, there’s a glint in them which your Mirio lacks. He’s faster as this version of himself, and you don’t have time to think before your back is against the cold tile wall. “So gorgeous, gonna tell me what that thing was and why you’re following me… or will I just rip the answers out of you one by one.” You’re too confused watching as he looms over you. His expression is half pleased, half irritated. You inhale to speak but the words don’t come. The smile on his face right now… it’s the expression of someone who has killed and enjoyed it. It’s never something you could have pictured to play across Mirio’s face and it jars you. A chill runs up your spine and goosebumps prickle on your arms. He’s terrifying but also so beautiful.

One of his hands moves up to grip your throat as he growls, “I’m waiting, bitch.” You flail as his grip tightens, scratching your nails into his arm in hopes that he will let go. “Please Mirio, I-I’m sorry.” His grip loosens suddenly but his hand stays around your neck. “What did you call me?” You cough and inhale, then meet his eyes. There is a familiar curiosity within his gaze but it’s joined by something else, that same strange glint. Is it amusement or something much more sinister? You can’t put your finger on it. “Mirio, your name is Mirio,” you murmur. A sly smile crosses his face as he moves closer to you, his hips pinning yours to the tile. “Yes, but how do you know that?”

You stutter, trying to find the right words, a sigh haphazardly escaping your lips as the heat from his body becomes intoxicating. “You been sent to spy by the heroes?” You shake your head and try to wiggle free, but only succeed in grinding against him. A low laugh bubbles from his throat as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and stills your hips with his other. “That’s real cute, but not gonna get you out of trouble with me…” His eyes flick down your body then back up. “Quite the opposite actually,” he teases. Your face feels warm and your eyes dart down and away. “Aww you’re so shy now, makes me wanna eat you up.” Mirio tilts your chin upwards so you’re looking at him. His eyes have softened slightly. “Just tell me,okay? I don’t wanna have to hurt ya.” There's a strange pleading in his tone, a sincerity you didn't expect. “We know each other, Mirio… well sort of,” you match the tone of his voice. A smirk breaks on his face, “are you my stalker?” You roll your eyes, he still had a sense of humour in this universe. It’s nice to know some things never change.

“No, no we’re friends, but I know a different… you.” He blinks before his eyes narrow. He starts to speak but you continue to explain… about your quirk, the Mirio you know, and how you’d planned to steal his quirk. You show him your locket, the engraving. He still seems suspicious as he turns it over in his hands, examining it. “You’re a crafty little liar, I’ll give you that, had this made and all, but now I’ll have to pull the truth out of you, and like I said, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you.” “Wait… I can prove it, just let me use the mirror… then I’ll leave you alone.” Mirio looks you up and down again before opening the locket and holding it out for you.

You focus on your reflection and watch as your face turns that strange blue black colour. Guilt seeps from your mind and travels down your spine as you’re pulled towards your reflection. The quirk extractor was sitting at the bottom of the pool, now carrying within it the power of chlorine… You hadn’t helped Mirio, only discovered a dark side to his existence… which wasn’t all that bad it seemed. He hadn’t harmed you at all, just threatened you slightly and even then it had seemed he was teasing and flirting more than anything. Your Mirio had never flirted with you… on purpose. The pull of the mirror became stronger and there was a strange sadness, a feeling that you would miss this version of Mirio. This version of Mirio was void of the sunshine that the original Mirio held within him at all times, but this Mirio seemed to see you. This Mirio had given you more in a few seconds than the original Mirio had in years. You shut your eyes as you began to fall into the mirror’s reflection. The original Mirio’s words that he’d said to you that day still hanging heavy in your heart. You laugh at your own pathetic nature for the second time today. You fantasies of Mirio were just that… just fantasies. In all universes.

A hand pushes you backwards away from the mirror. The impact is so strong you stumble, but the same hand catches you and pulls you into him. You gasp for air, your head reeling from being ripped from the portal. Mirio holds you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just- I didn’t want you to go.” His voice is riddled with guilt, shaking slightly. You fist your hands into his shirt, gripping the fabric as you struggle to stand. “Whoa whoa, hey,” he consoles as he sinks to his knees, bringing you with him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. “I really didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m okay, I’ve just never been pulled from a portal before,” you stutter. His thumb brushes over your face temple. “You remember your name?” You state your name and he repeats it, “Y/n… I love it.” A smile plays on your features, cheeks heating once again upon hearing the compliment. “Hey, what’s 2 + 2?”

“4,”

“Damn, well I guess you’re a math wiz.”

Your eyes flutter open and he smiles, “there she is.” You squeeze your eyes shut then open them once more in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “Are you gonna kill me now?” you drawl. Mirio pouts, “well that depends, are you still gonna steal my quirk for other me?” You laugh and roll your head away from him. “I can’t, it’s in the pool now, it’s absorbed the fucking power of chlorine.” Mirio laughs, “well whose fault is that?” You look up at him, there’s an intensity to his gaze when you meet his eyes. Your heart hammers against your chest… “yours.” You start to sit up, his arms still cling to you. “You’re the dummy who let go just ‘cuz I scared you.” You hum considering his words, “you don’t scare me Mirio.”

His arms relax around you and you move to lay down on the tile floor. Your back relaxes against the floor and you move your arms over your head to rest your head in your hands. “You should be afraid, I’m a whole different me, sweetheart,” he remarks. He moves to lay next to you, mimicking your position. “You’re still Mirio,” you sigh, your eyes taking in the blank space of the ceiling. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, my body count, nothing.” “You’re still Mirio,” you insist. Laying like this you can hear the echo of your words bouncing off of the water. “He’s lucky, other me… to have a girl like you.” His last few words are whispered, failing to bounce around the room. They hang over you, adding weight to the atmosphere. “Ah well, the Mirio in my universe doesn’t see it that way,” you deflect. Mirio rolls to face you, his head laying in the crook of his arm. “I know we don’t know each other… not really, but it’s strange, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are practically on fire now, that small glint having grown into a flame. “In a way we have, I know a version of you… what I’ve come to find is every universe has overlaps of some sort… you and the Mirio I know will share some things… memories even.” Mirio’s face lights up, “yes exactly, I feel like I’ve seen you in a dream or something…” You shrug, “it’s possible.” Mirio smiles, it’s a familiar smile, a sincere happiness that the Mirio of your universe wears often. Much different than the smiles this Mirio had even just a few moments ago.

“Why are you a villain?” you ask him. Mirio clutches his chest in mock pain. “That hurts, sweetheart… Just because I don’t accept the truths the rule makers of our world have given me… that’s what makes me a “villain”?” You narrow your eyes, “I meant more that you’re a hitman working for Shigaraki Tomura.” He laughs, “heard that did you? Guess you were following me for longer than I’d realised.” He pauses and moves closer to you. “I have no problem getting rid of a few people who won’t contribute anything of value… most lives are a total waste, I’m merely an exterminator… getting rid of the bad to make more space for the good…” He says it so casually that it makes chills run up your spine. “So does that make you the good or the bad?” He laughs again though this time he is less amused with your question. “I’m just a sacrificial pawn, sweetheart… can’t be good to make space for it.”

You reach out and touch his bare arm. His skin is hot against his fingertips. “You didn’t hurt me… when you thought I was lying, you can’t be bad…” He smiles, “That’s just because I see how good you are and I want to protect that… protect you.” His hand begins to mirror yours, stroking up and down your arm with light fingertips. “If you can see the good, then that makes you good.”

His fingers grip into your arm and he pulls you closer to him. He reaches for the back of your neck when he notices the smudge of ink on his hand. He examines your arm and finds the numbers. “What’s this?” he asks. You sigh, “it’s the time I have to go…” He pulls your face closer to his, your noses almost touching. “You can’t stay?” You shake your head, “Only for 8 hours, else I’ll be torn apart by the universal pulls… I’m not really supposed to be here ya know,” you joke. Mirio’s face falls, “Can you come back?” You shrug, “I can but the time I can stay is deducted every single time I return to a universe until I can no longer visit anymore…” Mirio’s thumb rubs soft circles into the flesh of your cheek. “What should we do then?” he asks. You smile sadly before sitting up. You give him an impish smirk. “Well, there’s a pool, I say we swim.”

You start by removing your top, slowly peeling it away and discarding it to the floor. Mirio follows, taking off his grey tshirt. His figure is chiseled, each muscle toned and defined. You start unbuttoning your trousers when you feel the heat of his chest flush against your back. “Can I?” he asks as his hands rest on your hips. You nod and he slowly pulls your pants down your legs. He helps you step out of them before throwing them towards the growing pile of clothes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, trailing kisses up your thighs. You grab his face with two hands and pull him to standing. “My turn,” you smirk, looping your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him towards you. You undo his pants, kissing down his chest. Savoring the taste of his skin. He groans at your touch and you feel the heat pooling low in your belly. His pants removed his stands only in grey underwear, while you remain in your bra and panties.

You teasingly move away from him and stand on the first rung of the ladder in the deep end of the pool. You look back to where he stands, calling him to you with your gaze. He groans as he moves towards you. “I’m really holding back you know,” he growls, pressing his chest against your back, his a. “Why hold back? You can have whatever you want… Just take it, make it yours.” Mirio trails his lips up your neck, ready to suckle a mark into your skin, when you add, “if you can,” and step off the ladder into the blue water.

As soon as the water touches your skin you’re swimming towards the other side. You hear Mirio dive in after you and know that this has all been futile. He grabs your hand and slings you gently towards the wall. He places both of his hands on either side of your body, pinning you. You wipe the water from your eyes before wrapping them around his neck. “You caught me so fast… I thought you’d chase me around more,” you provoke. He shakes the water from his hair and moves his body closer to yours. “Chasing you is a waste of fucking time right? I want to have you,” he growls. You open your mouth to say something but are silenced by his lips on yours.

The kiss is needy, sloppy. He kisses you like he’s starving, finally being fed. His tongue draws circles around yours before sucking it into his mouth. You moan into the kiss and he responds by pulling you closer, grinding on your clothed cunt with his hardening cock. He moves to run his tongue along your bottom lip before nipping at it. You sight into the kiss, turning your head to deepen it. You pull away a wry smile on your face. Mirio’s pupils are blown, that unfamiliar glint in his eye now having a name for it, desire.

“Miri, I want you,” his hips stutter against yours upon hearing this. “Fuck princess, I won’t be able to hold back anymore if you keep looking at me like that.” You pepper kisses to his face, tasting the chlorine on his skin. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, “I trust you, you’re good to me, I’m yours if that’s what you really want.” His breath shakes upon hearing this and he presses his forehead to yours. “Mine? All fucking mine? Like this me?” You nod and kiss him again. This time you catch his bottom lip and suck it, pulling on it just to hear him moan.

He helps lift you to where you’re sitting on the edge of the pool. He peels your panties down your legs before spreading them. He kisses one of your thighs before massaging the other. “So fucking perfect,” he praises, “all fucking mine.” He trails his hand and mouth up the inside of your thigh. He spreads your folds, drinking in the sight of your bare cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’m gonna make you forget about any other versions of me, you’re going to be all mine.” He presses a kiss to your clit, “gonna be all fucking mine, princess.”

He drags his tongue, slow, up your slit and circles it around your clit before sucking on it gently. You stifle a whine and you can feel him smiling in pride. “That is princess, lemme hear those sweet sounds.” He does the same move again and this time you don’t hold it in. Your sounds of pleasure echo around the pool, bouncing around and finally landing back on your own ears. But you don’t hear them, as you’re too lost in the pleasure. Mirio grips the wall of the pool with one hand while the other comes up to rest on your lower abdomen. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your clit while his tongue circles your hole. “Tastes so fucking good,” he growls and then shoves his tongue inside. The muscle is hot, wet, and he slowly begins to add more pressure to your clit while tongue fucking you. You’re completely overcome with a mind melting pleasure as you fall back onto your elbows, your hips grinding against his face. You aren’t sure how, but you can already feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Mirio seems to know as he picks up the pace. “Cum all over my face- wanna taste you-” His permission was all you needed and soon you’re clamping down around his tongue, calling broken syllables of his name. He kisses your cunt as you come down from your high. “Such a good girl for me, cumming when I say.”

He lifts himself out of the pool and removes his underwear. He’s thick, incredibly so and long. The head is red, leaking pre cum. You groan at the sight, cunt aching to be filled. You reach for him, pulling him on top of you. He kisses you, deep, passionate, with lots of tongue and teeth. You can feel his cock, thick and hard pressing into your thigh. He ruts his hips into yours, his cock sliding along your thigh. “Please,” you beg. He growls and flips you to where you’re on top and he sits pressing you to him, cock wedged between the two of you. You grind against him in anticipation. “Please Miri,” you plead. He lifts you and in one swift move, you’re impaled on his cock.

You cry out, and it echoes back to you. The stretch is incredible, a pleasurable, dull pain that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He carefully thrusts up into you, and you crumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t wanna hurt my baby,” he coos, body stilling. You shake your head, “no it feels good, y-you're just so big.” He laughs darkly, “you love the pain, don't you?” He gives another thrust to test your reaction and this time he can feel it. Your pussy dripping down his cock.He looks down, eyes blowing at the sight, “fuck baby look, I’m not even all the way inside…” You look down and moan, his cock is a little over half inside. It’s too big to fit all the way. “You cute little cunt keeps throbbing on my cock, and when she does, she drools.” He wipes up some of your combined juices with his thumb and rubs into your clit again, just as he had before. Then he starts to move.

He starts slowly bouncing you in his lap at a gentle pace, but soon his eyes change and his thrusts become harder and faster. “I’m sorry princess, but you feel too good, I need more of you, need all of you.” Mirio fucks into you harder, his cock so big he hits every spot inside of you that makes you weak with each thrust. Your cries become louder and more desperate. His cock kissing your cervix with each thrust causes you to disintegrate in his lap. The lewd sounds of his hips smacking into your ass fills the pool. Mirio’s eyes flick down and he growls. “Look at that baby, ‘m all the way inside now, doing so good, so fucking perfect taking every inch I have to give. God you’re fucking made for me.” You sink your teeth into his neck in a desperate effort to stave off your orgasm, to savor the moment you’d waited so long for. The moment where you and Mirio Togata become one. But it feels too good, the pleasure so intense that you’re pushed over the edge again, clenching tightly around Mirio’s fat cock. “Fuck baby, do that again, milk my cock for me while I fuck you into my shape.”

His thrusts become sloppier but he manages to continue to hit all your spots, driving his cock into you at a bruising pace. You’re shaking in his lap, body convulsing from your last orgasm as another starts to build. “Fucking hell baby, you’re so fucking perfect, and you’re mine, all fucking mine.” His hips start to stutter but his pace quickens. “I’m all yours Miri, yes, I’m yours,” you moan. He pulls your head towards him and kisses you with that same hunger as before, teeth gripping at your lower lip and him sucking on your tongue. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, white hot. It’s too much and sends him over the edge. “That’s it, milk my cock, milk my fucking cock,” he pants, pouring his cum deep inside you. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine forever,” he growls as his hot ropes of cum still paint your walls.

Your body is shaking, the post orgasm cold mixed with your wet body has goosebumps prickling your body. He pulls his cock out and groans at the way his cum drips from your hole. He smiles, “you’re even more beautiful now that I’ve claimed you.” You smile against his skin. “I feel more beautiful,” you reply. But Mirio’s words ring in your ears. You sit up quickly but wince. “I hurt you, I’m so-” “No, that isn’t it…” You lay your head in the crook of his neck. “The longer I’m here in this dimension the weaker I become… but I’m okay, don't worry.” You nuzzle into him, trying to steal some of his warmth. He caresses your back, “I wish you could stay…” “I-I have to go back, we can’t be together forever, even though it’s all I want,” when you finally say the words you start to cry. Mirio wraps his arms around you. “You’re cold,” he says. He helps you up holding your hands, “can you stand?” You nod and he walks you back towards the shallow end of the water. He eases himself in first and then takes your hand to help you do the same.

He cradles you to him, “but you can go back to other me, and when you make love to him, you can just think of me… we’re the same.” You look into his eyes, face pleading, “that’s just it Mirio, you aren’t the same at all… he will never love me.” Mirio’s face darkens, anger, pure anger resides in his features. “Why not?” You take a deep breath. These were the words that haunted you from the moment the other Mirio had spoken them. “He told me, I will always love you, but I will never, ever, love you like that.” You whisper this secret to him.

Mirio can see it, the weight you’ve carried in your heart. That Mirio might save people all day long, be an actual hero, but he’s the one that’s more fucked… evil. Breaking the most perfect girl he has ever known into small pieces. No, Mirio could never let such evil exist, even if that evil was technically himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he cradles you protectively.

Your eyes widen, and you grip onto his face. He looks at you, smiling. “Miri, do you really want to be with me forever?” He nods and kisses you, “more than anything, you’re mine now, I’ve claimed you, you belong to me.” “I belong to you,” you echo and press your forehead against his. “I think I know a way,” you inform, the grin breaking over your face. He awaits an explanation with wide eyes. “You can come back to my world with me.” Mirio narrows his eyes in confusion, “won’t that kill me? Like it kills you?” You shake your head, “no… that just has to do with the limitations of my quirk… I’ve brought someone back with me before, the only thing is… that there’s already a Mirio in my universe, which could technically throw time and space out of balance. But there’s a small window where it wouldn’t… and if you really want to kill him… then there would only be one again.” You smile and hold his face, peppering it with kisses. “You can kill him and take his place!”

You’re met with Mirio’s grin and another sloppy kiss. “I knew I was right about you, you’re perfect.” You both climb out of the pool and dress in your clothes again. You put the locket around your neck and open it focussing on your reflection. For the first time, holding the mirror, you don’t feel the weight of the other Mirio’s words. This Mirio, now your Mirio, has filled the void that the Mirio of your universe put inside your heart. You wonder now if you’d really loved him all this time or if it was a disguised hatred and rage. You’d always found blood somewhat disturbing but now you were excited to see it. Excited to watch the man who hurt you bleed out and be destroyed by the man you loved. Excited to watch him die.

You grip Mirio’s hand in yours, finger interlaced. “Just don’t let go, no matter what, okay?” Mirio kisses your hand. “I won’t, swear,” he confirms.

Your face begins to change and you feel the gravity sucking you back into your reflection, but this time, you won’t be returning to him alone and in pieces. You’ll be returning to him whole. This time… it would be him lying in pieces on the floor.

#mirio #mirio togata #mirio smut #bnha #mha #bnha mirio #villain mirio #bnharem collab #bnharem #villain au

177 notes · View notes

uramichislefttiddie · 3 years

Text

Blue lock random head cannons (:

||Contains: Meguru Bachira, Yoichi Isagi, Rensuke Kunigami||

||Warnings: fluff if anything||

Meguru Bachira

No matter if you have long or short hair, he will always want to style your hair for you wether that ranges from dying it to just simply tying it up or curling it etc. However most of the time he will want you to style his hair after he’s done yours, he especially loves the feeling of your fingers messing with his hair. If your sat down doing something always expect for Bachira to rest his head in your lap waiting for you to comb through his hair with your fingers and if you still haven’t done so he will start messing with your fingers hoping you get the message.

It was a late Saturday evening around the time dusk was settling into the day, the orange shade breaking through the pristine glass of the window that rested behind you and Bachira. You had been playing (choice of game) for the past few hours as Bachira was eating about the 3rd can of pineapple trying his hardest to not spill any of the juice anywhere as he fine well knew you’d make him clean it up and at that moment he’d like to avoid cleaning at all costs. You had started to slowly become bored, the silence now finally getting to you. As you turned your head to look at Bachira he was still stuffing his face full of pineapple. No matter what he always had that bright smile that had entranced you from the first day you both had set eyes upon one another.

“Bachira that’s the last can, you’ll make yourself sick soon!” He slightly turned his head in your direction, cheeks puffed with a small grin accompanying his face. You turned back to your game making a new goal of at least finishing this one level before doing anything else. After awhile still having not accomplished the goal you soon felt a slight weight on your lap, Bachira was staring up at you waiting for you to realise what he was wanting. You had known for awhile now that combing his hair was the easiest way to get him asleep. However you were very fixated on doing this one level and to your knowledge you had failed to realise Bachira was wanting attention.

Just as soon as you were about to compete the one level you had been struggling on a soft hand had grabbed at yours removing it off the controller and resulting in you dying once more.

“The hell Bachira! What was that for?” You hadn’t meant to shout at him but it was during the moment after all day you were so close to finishing what you had been wanting to finish.

“Ah, sorry y/n I forgot you were playing that, I’m really sorry!” You could tell he was sorry as he was looking at your with saddened eyes.

“Eh, it’s alright just please ask me next time that’s all you need to do.” You gave him a small smile as you laid his head back onto your lap and started to massage his head as he slowly closed his eyes soon falling to a soft slumber.

Yoichi isagi

Isagi is very skilled in art, at the beginning of your relationship he had a small sketch book he would carry about and inside that book unbeknownst to you was little doodling’s of you at different angles and at different locations you two would go together so he could remember these moments. After awhile being in the relationship he asked could he draw you to which you agreed and ever since than he loves drawing you when he has the spare time.

It had been about 5 month’s since you and isagi started dating, you was both sat down in the grass watching the sunset, both of you were occupying yourselves with things that interested you both, art being isagi’s. for awhile now you you felt as if someone kept looking at you, but you didn’t want to suspect that straight away.

“Hey…y/n can i- wait never mind it doesn’t matter.” Spoke a soft voice from next to you, you looked to the direction the voice came from and tilted your head in a confused state.

“What is it Isagi?” You gave him a soft, reassuring smile. He opened his mouth hesitantly and looked anywhere except from you. “Hey you can tell me you know?”

“It’s just I was gonna, well, ask if I could draw you?” You started to giggle slightly and looked at him. “Of course you can Isagi, you don’t need to ask me!” Isagi turned away shyly recounting all the times he’s done a quick sketch of you previously. He quickly smiled at you and turned around to grab ahold of his bigger sketch book and a few different pencils. He soon started to sketch you making sure to take into account all of the details on your face. About 20 minutes later he tucked the rest of the equipment into a small backpack and closed the sketch book, you turned a confused look to him wondering why he isn’t showing you, soon enough Isagi had caught onto your puzzled face. “Oh I’m going to give it to you on your birthday alongside with many more things!” He said with much enthusiasm and a big smile with puppy dog eyes. “But my birthday isn’t for a few more months!” You whined at him. He let out a laugh and shuffled to you and gave you a quick kiss. “Yeah exactly it gives me more time to make it the best for you!”

Rensuke kunigami

So in his trivia section is said the last time he cried was when watching E.T, so whenever you two end up watching movies he always hides the disc for E.T as he doesn’t want you to know he cries at the movie. To him he feels as if he has this certain image he needs to uphold. If you were to ever ask about if he has the disc for E.T he’d straight away make an excuse wether it’s believable or not like one time he made the excuse that “he dropped it in soup and it stained the disc” You had to just play along and believe him obviously.

As you walked back into the living room with hands full, consisting off a bowl of popcorn and two drinks of your choice, kunigami was across the room frantically searching for something within the pile of dvds he had in a glass shelf. “Hey kunigami, you alright over there?” You had questionably asked in his direction whilst placing down the products onto the oak table resting infront of the rather large couch. “Oh uh I was just trying to re arrange the dvds so it’s easier for you to choose one!” He quickly explained whilst scratching the back of his head and giving you a not so reassuring look. You decided to just ignore him and carry on setting up the movie night layout. Kunigami was starting to walk up the stairs making you even more confused with his behaviour. “Hey where you off to, your acting quite odd?” He halted in place and slowly turned around to face you with a surprised look plastered across his face. “Uh just going to the toilet quickly.” He carried on walking upstairs leaving you to pick out a film to watch. As you sauntered over to the shelf’s you started to scan looking for one specific you had been meaning to watch for awhile now, no matter how much you looked you could just not find it despite remembering seeing the dvd many of times.

Footsteps were heard behind you followed by two arms wrapping around your figure. “You found one to watch yet.” You soon started to piece things together and turned to him with a snark on your face. “Yeah where did you put E.T too kunigami? I know you have it so don’t pretend you don’t.” As soon as those words left your mouth his face dropped of colour and eyes went big. “Oh I…yeah I accidentally sat on it the other day and broke it in half, sorry y/n.” You started laughing and playfully pushed him making him look at you confused. “No need to hide the fact you’ve hid it, your sister already told me about the time you cried whilst watching it kunigami!” He stared at you for what seemed like hours but soon enough he let out a laugh and his cheeks accompanying a bright red tint. “Hey I told her to keep that a secret damn it!” He looked at you for a second than went running back upstairs and bringing down the dvd and waving it about in your direction. One second you had seen kunigami walking down the stairs than within a blink of an eye he had fell on the stairs laughing as he did so. “Well…here it is!” You ran over to him making sure he wasn’t hurt but not being able to hold in the laughter that was wanting to escape. “Hey if you cry, I’ll be right there!” You said almost mockingly. He whipped his head to you with an unamused look. “haha very funny but keep this between us! I don’t want no one else to know this.” You gave him one more look before walking over to slot in the disc for E.T to start playing, as you went to go lay down on the couch you turned to look at kunigami who was still situated at the bottom of the stairs where his fall had ended at. “Oh yeah thank you for the help!” He shouted whilst laughing, you soon laughing back.

#blue lock #anime #rensuke kunigami #yoichi isagi #bachira meguru #blue lock x reader #x reader #anime x reader #anime x y/n #anime x you #anime x gender neutral reader #manga x reader #anime / manga

107 notes · View notes

a-nice-and-interpretive-fanzine · 3 years

Text

[ID: A cream-colored banner that says "A Nice and Interpretive Fanzine: essays and art about the meanings we've found in Good Omens." There is a photo of a book page with a key on it behind the banner text. The photo source is rosy_photo on Pixabay. /end ID]

A Nice and Interpretive Fanzine: Information Masterpost

Welcome!

This is a zine for those of us who love the subtle, complex work that is Good Omens, and who’ve enjoyed the thoughtfulness of the fandom as people interpret how the many moving pieces of the story come together, creating a slightly different meaning for each of us.

To put it simply, it’s a book full of the fandom’s own analysis and commentary about the Good Omens TV show, enhanced with illustrations from our brilliant artists.

This zine is analytical in the sense that all the writers are expressing their own nonfiction thoughts and feelings about the show, rather than writing fanfic, but it is not meant to be heavily academic. Anybody who likes to pick apart the series and discuss it should be able to enjoy it.

The zine will contain essays by fans who are passionate about analyzing and interpreting different parts of Good Omens - the characters, the plot, the writing techniques for the book and script, the cinematography of the TV show, the popular content of the fandom itself. Accompanying these essays will be black and white illustrations from our artists.

How are you organizing this process?

May 1-May 15: Everyone submits their application to do writing or art through a Google form. Behind the scenes, I’ll be setting up a separate email and Discord.

May 16-20: Applicants will be screened during this time.

May 20: I’ll email everyone to let them know the outcomes of their applications. The final participants will get a link to the Discord server for the zine (totally optional, of course).

May 21: If there’s any clarification or solidifying of ideas that needs to happen, I’ll contact you and discuss with you by this point. This is also when artists will be matched up with essays.

May 22 to August 14: This will be a period of just working on our essays and art. The Discord chat and Tumblr will be there for support and for exchanging ideas!

August 15: Participants need to email their full works to the zine’s email address by this date. No special formatting is needed; I’ll do that in InDesign.

August 15 to August 31: I’ll be putting the zine together in InDesign.

September 1: Preorders will open.

September 30: Preorders will close.

October 1: The zine order will be placed!

October 15: Assuming all goes well with printing and shipping, the zines will be shipped out in waves starting on this date. If the printing or shipping from the manufacturer is delayed, then shipping will just start ASAP.

Writer Application HERE Artist Application HERE Asked and Answered Questions on Tumblr The Fanzine's Page on Twitter

Read below for more detailed information about the zine in a Q and A format!

What are the specifications for the zine contributions?

For writers, I’m starting with 3k words or fewer per essay (approximately 10 pages at the size of this book). This depends heavily on how many participants we actually get, so it may change!

For artists, I’d be looking at black and white works, 300 DPI, 5.5 x 8.5 inches or smaller. If your art is supposed to fill up the entire page (i.e. no white space), please make it a total of 5.75 x 8.75 inches with nothing too important around the edges to account for bleed during the printing process.

Can I submit an essay to this zine if I’ve already posted it on Tumblr?

Not as you’ve already posted it. We don’t want to just copy/paste the exact thing that hundreds or perhaps even thousands of people have already read.

However, it IS fine and maybe even a good idea to take the same thought from your post and refine it, preserving your same thesis. For example, a lot of Tumblr posts are just us fans jotting down 5 or 6 paragraphs of random thoughts at 2 AM, but some of them are really cool thoughts! Expanding them and turning them into a bona-fide Essay would make those posts into excellent zine chapters. And you can copy small pieces of your own language as long as the whole thing isn’t just pasted word-for-word.

How long do essays have to be? Is there a limit?

With the number of writers we have, I've calculated that each person should ideally keep their essay to about 6000 words. There is wiggle room.

There’s no real minimum for your contribution; some analytical ideas are really good but can be expressed concisely, so it’s okay if your essays only come out to a few pages typed. For reference, with our book size, a page is about 300 words.

What happens if the zine sells a lot and you end up not only breaking even, but turning a profit?

It’ll go to charity. While I’ll ask the participants what they want to do for certain if we do make enough money, my suggestion will be donating it to Alzheimer’s Research UK in honor of Sir Terry Pratchett.

I’m not really comfortable calling this a “charity zine” up front since I simply don’t know if it will raise a significant amount. For the most part, I just want the thing to physically exist, which means breaking even, and don’t want to make it more expensive for buyers than it needs to be to afford the printing costs.

What kinds of essays are you talking about? What could be included?

In short, any analytical thoughts about the Good Omens TV show - and possibly even the fandom as it interacts with the show - are possible inclusions for the zine.

To expand a bit, think about the meta posts you see floating around Tumblr. Often these involve analyzing characters, or picking up on patterns in the plot. Sometimes fans use their own background knowledge to write posts about the significance of certain costume choices or the way music plays into each individual scene. Some posts examine the ways the series approaches gender, while others might discuss ways that the characters present as neurodivergent. That’s how diverse the pool of possibilities is for subjects in this zine.

How does art come into this?

Images will be black and white, to match the bookish mood of the project overall. Images can range in size from a half page to a full page.

I’m planning to talk to the artists and authors and loosely pair artists with essays that appeal to their personal interests.

I know how to illustrate a story, but how do I illustrate an essay?

There are infinite answers to this! I’ve seen some beautiful symbolic artwork in the fandom already (e.g. a number of takes on Aziraphale munching on an apple with Crowley in snake form curving around him), and there are tons of symbolic motifs to draw from, but these are not the only options. An artist illustrating an essay about cinematography, for example, could draw a well-known scene from an alternative angle. An essay about Heaven as a capitalist corporation could be illustrated with a cartoon of Gabriel giving some sort of excruciating PowerPoint presentation. A character analysis could be accompanied by a simple portrait. And on and on. I’m not interested in limiting the possibilities by trying to make a list, but just know that there are many and you don’t have to make it complicated if you don’t want to.

If the writers can reuse their essay ideas, can artists reuse their drawings?

Similarly to the writers, if you already have an interpretive drawing that you’re in love with, artists can use the same ideas and the same fundamental composition that is present in their own existing work. However, it has to be redone in some significant way. Whether it’s taking something you drew in 2019 and redrawing it using an updated style, taking a sketch and turning it into a lined and shaded piece, or redoing a full-color drawing so it presents more strikingly in black and white, it shouldn’t be identical to the thing you’ve already posted.

So how are you choosing participants here?

It’ll be based on what people are interested in writing about (or illustrating). I’ll be looking for people who are passionate about their essays, but I’ll also be looking for variety. It all depends on what people want to offer, so I won’t know for sure what it will look like put together until everyone’s application is in.

For artists, I’ll be trying to figure out whose style looks like it would adapt well to illustrations in black and white, and also who demonstrates an interest in the same subjects as the writers.

If we don’t get a lot of applicants, I’d love to simply include everyone, but I can’t commit to that without knowing for sure how many people are involved.

Do I have to use a formal writing style to participate?

No. You should use a style that makes your thoughts and ideas as clear as possible, but as long as it’s understandable, you can also get a little artistic with it. You can “write like you speak,” though perhaps in a more organized way. You definitely don’t need to worry about stylistic rules like not using the first person. This is not academia.

Is this zine going to center only on Crowley and Aziraphale?

That remains to be seen! It depends on what ideas show up in the applications. There will be a lot of the ineffable partners for sure, but whether the whole zine will center on them or whether there’s plentiful stuff about other characters will depend on what the participants suggest.

Do we have to agree with all your personal interpretations of Good Omens to be in the zine?

No! In fact, I’m assuming that a number of essays will contradict each other, too, and that’s perfectly okay. The zine is a sampler of fan interpretations meant to inspire, not instruct. It’s not “Here’s a fan-made guide on how to understand this TV show,” it’s “Look at all these moving parts and how many meanings we can find in them. What does it mean to you?”

However, there are some basic rules and assumptions by which I’m working here.

I don’t personally have the energy to include essays that are highly critical (“negative”) in this zine. It’s analytical but also meant to be fun.

I’m pretty focused on the TV adaptation. This isn’t “no book analysis allowed” but just that the essays will end up being weighted toward subjects that apply to either the TV show or both the book and the show.

Each writer should focus on making their own points over disproving other fan interpretations. If you’re writing in an expository style, it’s normal for the essay to contain rebuttals to opposing ideas, but these should be minor supporting points, not the heart and soul of your essay. For reference, I’d say the majority of meta I see floating around on tumblr would follow this rule just fine.

Essay ideas that seem to contain bigoted or exclusionary sentiments will not be accepted (no TERFy stuff, for example).

What kinds of editing will go into the zine? Are you going to argue with us about the contents of our writing?

While I might ask you to elaborate on certain points in your writing or clarify your thoughts about your subject, I’m absolutely not here to ask you to change the thesis, opinions, or headcanons on which your writing is based. If I really have a problem with your initial idea, I’ll tell you that up front and politely decline the contribution.

While formatting the zine, I’ll make minor edits if I think I see a typo or misspelling, something small and obviously unintentional. As with any other zine, your content won’t be changed without consulting you.

Is this a SFW zine?

Yes. If people want to discuss sexuality in a theoretical way, like erotic subtext, that would be allowed. There are canon references like Newt and Anathema’s moment under the bed that might come up, too. But there will be nothing explicit, and since these are essays instead of stories, there will be no “action” going on between characters. Let’s just say sex isn’t a forbidden topic, but it will be like discussing it in English class.

As for other topics that could make the zine NSFW, like gore or extreme language, I don’t think they will be an issue. Some dark topics, like abuse by Heaven and Hell, may be discussed, but they will be warned for, and these are not stories, so you aren’t going to see violent actions playing out.

Will there be any “extras” like charms or stickers?

I’m not sure yet. I’m most inclined to keep it simple, because of the nature of the zine, but would be open to including some bonus items if there’s an artist who’s really passionate about it.

With that said, I am pretty committed to making a hardcover edition of the book available, in addition to the standard softcover version.

You’re doing this with only one mod?!

Yes. I personally find it easiest. While I’ve worked on multi-mod projects in other domains and adore all of my co-mods, it’s a little bit different when it’s a project with this many moving pieces that includes real-life components like printing and shipping. Though there are a lot of individual things to be done, I am experienced with all of them, so it’s less overwhelming to just take on the whole project. That way, I know exactly what needs to be done and when, and there are no issues with assigning tasks.

What qualifies you to run this zine?

The résumé answer: in fandom, I successfully solo-modded a large not-for-profit zine in the past, the @soulmakazine2018, and while I can’t speak for the whole fandom, it definitely seemed to be well-received. <3 In real life, I’m a case manager and this involves coordinating and communicating with a lot of different people including my 100-person caseload, budgeting services, and filling out all kinds of paperwork on the fly, all skills that can be imported into zine work.

The practical answer: well, I’m the one who decided to start this project, so if you like the sound of it, you're stuck with me. I say with encouragement and enthusiasm that if you’d like to do a different take on a commentary zine, you should absolutely do it.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #fanzine #good omens zine

89 notes · View notes

zet-sway · 3 years

Text

Spiritual Shrios Summer - EMBRACE

This is a prompt fill for @rosenkow’s Spiritual Shrios Summer!

PROMPT WORD: EMBRACE - | - WORDS: ~6100

Rated: “E” for “Awkward but Spicy” [NSFT] AO3 Link: "Too Much and Not Enough” Pairing: Thane / FemShep Summary: Maybe it's the traces of venom in her system or maybe it's just him, but this man beneath her - this assassin, feared and infamous for the lives he's taken - swells her heart with trust. It's a new and curious thing, so different from the trust shared between brothers in arms. It's simple intimacy, and maybe… just maybe… something more.

A/N: This fic is a god damn hot mess, and yet I have literally *never* revised anything so heavily in my entire life. Was supposed to be part of a slow burn but I'm impatient. I literally can't tell if this fic is worth reading. You decide lol

Thank you @quietonewisp for your feedback on my first draft! It's unbelievable to be in the same fandom with such talented writers after all these years. Thank you also to everyone who shared encouraging words while I was pulling my hair out over this fic :) this is my first attempt at writing Shepard as a thought out character of my own creation. As a result it's pretty awkward.

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

"I don't know how you do this," Shepard grunts through clenched teeth.

Every third day is yoga. And today, she thought it would be a good idea to try a headstand.

Thane guides her feet into the air, resting her knees against her elbows. Her hands are planted on either side of her head, elbows bent at a right angle to form three points of support against the floor. Truthfully, he hadn't thought she would struggle so much with this pose, given her strength.

"Push with your hands. Distribute your weight."

Slowly, he releases her calves and repositions himself behind her as she pulls in a sharp inhale, holding her balance.

"You better not be staring at my ass, Krios."

He raises a brow ridge. It's hard not to stare at her ass, thrust in the air as it is.

"You forget that I have perfect recall," he says dismissively. "I can reflect on the image of your backside at any moment of my choosing."

"So you admit you've been looking?"

"Shepard," he admonishes, "Just because I've seen your ass does not mean I consciously seek to see it." It's a stone cold lie, but an easy one to sell, especially when she makes a point of training her glutes every day during their morning PT.

Slowly, she lifts her knees into the air, shaking with the effort to retain her balance. "I bet you're an ass man," she grits out, one leg finally pointed straight into the air.

Thane sets his hands on her calves to steady her as she wills through the pose.

"I'm unfamiliar with the term."

She huffs, swallowing down a breath before speaking. "A man who prefers ass over breasts."

Only humans would have a word for something like this, he thinks. "As you know, women of my species do not have breasts."

"Yup," she hisses, slowly and carefully straightening her other leg. "That's why you've gotta be-" another shaky breath, "-an ass man."

Well… she's not wrong.

In truth, he finds breasts no more desirable than any other mundane part of the human body. The appeal, he suspects, comes from actually touching them - something he hadn't considered at all until she'd launched herself at him in the airlock weeks ago. He's replayed the experience in his mind hundreds of times by now. The insistent press of her mouth on his, her smooth human hands clutching at his shoulders... and the soft crush of her body against him. He hadn't pulled away, but he hadn't kissed her back either. Right now, he wishes he had.

There's a curious connecting thread between his return to the Normandy and her sudden urgency to speak to him - frequently. Even more curious - neither one of them has broached the subject of her impulsive kiss before his procedure.

With a relieved sigh, Shepard finally manages to straighten both legs and complete the pose. Toes pointed toward the ceiling of the shuttle bay, she trembles. It's all he can do to not close his hands around her thighs to feel every rippling muscle under her skin.

"Excellent work," he says, voice perhaps lower than he intended.

"My head hurts."

Thane shakes his head. "You're not distributing your weight through your hands. Push down, and lower your knees slowly."

She makes a strained sound, tenses her legs, and the motion is just enough to pitch her center of gravity backwards.

He catches her, but not before the rounded curve of her ass is pressed with distracting persistence against his hips. If he could have blushed, he very well might have. Looking remarkably contorted beneath her splayed hands, she grins at him.

"How's your perfect recall going to handle this one?"

He should say something, but he doesn't. With steady arms, he lowers her to the mat and she flops against it, sighing heavily. There's a familiar quiet about her, something he's come to recognize as the silence before a storm.

"...can we talk about this?"

His deflection comes instinctively. "Your mastery of the headstand will take some practice, but-"

"No," she says firmly. "This." She waves a hand between both of them. "I kissed you goodbye and we're both acting like it never happened. It was inappropriate of me. Did I upset you?"

This time he needs a minute to think.

"Shepard, I… no, you did not upset me."

"But...?" She sits up, knees drawn in a loose spread against her chest, arms looped around them. The same focus he'd seen in her face on Tuchanka is there now. But this time her expression is uncharacteristically open, visibly hanging on his next words.

She's not even trying to hide that she wants him.

So why does he resist?

Ten years ago he swore he would never love another, and he meant it. The compulsion to remain ascetic is by now second nature in him. But although the years have not dulled the memory of his beloved Irikah, they have brought a new perspective: the fires of one love are not dulled simply because the fires of another are kindled.

"I've recalled that moment more times than I can count," he says, finally.

"So... does that mean you liked it?"

"I enjoyed your kiss enough to admit that should the opportunity arise... I may not let go."

She leans closer, fingers lacing together with visible anticipation. "And what if I didn't want you to let go?"

The look in her upturned face is what does him in. In a rare display of impulse, he drops to the mat and kisses her. And this time he intends to savor it.

Somehow, the same humility that drove him to his knees before Irikah now folds him again as he gazes into the unknown with Shepard. A purpose, a reason to fight. And now perhaps... a reason to love. He's not sure if he would call it love just yet, but kissing her awakens his body like hot tea on a bitter cold morning. She draws him between her knees, lips parting eagerly beneath his seeking tongue. She tastes like coffee with an undertone of alien unfamiliarity, and his pulse quickens. He's already eager for more.

Shepard mumbles something against his mouth and he pulls away.

"You taste tingly. That's normal right?"

He smiles gently back at her. "Normal for humans, as I understand."

They lean together for another kiss before she releases him. "We still haven't done cardio."

He slips his arms around her waist and tugs her tighter against him, using his strength to pull her up with him as he stands.

"A quick jog around the hold, then?"

"...or," she says coyly, all suggestive eyes with a cautious smirk blooming across her face. "A quick jog upstairs?"

He shouldn't. At least - old habits tell him he shouldn't. But his heart says it doesn't much matter.

"Promise me one thing," he says with caution, taking her hands in his. This is not how he’d imagined his morning. After all the time they’ve spent seeking each other’s company, he hadn’t dared to think...

Shepard tips her head, listening, fingertips idly exploring the subtle texture of his scales. His throat feels dry and the words are stampeding through his mind so fast he can barely catch them.

"Embrace her memory as I have. Smile upon her with favor." The memories mingle together, threatening to overwhelm him. Shepard has already given him so much, and he still asks more of her.

"Your wife?" She leans into his neck, kissing his shoulder softly.

"Yes." He squeezes his eyes shut. His breath threatens to choke him. "I cannot and will not stop loving her. She is with me always."

Shepard smiles at him, as though he's asked the easiest thing in the world. Her next words are an intimate whisper against his lips.

"What kind of Commander would I be if I told you to stop loving your wife?"

Her breath fills his chest with warmth and wanting. Cupping her face in his hands, he kisses her glistening lips as though they were crafted specifically for him. They inhale each other, her tongue sliding against his as he breathes in her kiss. The word murmurs through his mouth and mind as a soft wind sighing through trees and grasses. "Siha."

This could be his second chance. An opportunity to fight side by side with a warrior angel, as he should have done years ago. Irikah was not a trained soldier, but she damn well could have been. She would have given everything to defend the innocent, and by all accounts, she had. Their son, alive because of her and her alone. He can taste her in the kiss, a familiar and soothing encouragement that makes his heart soar. Perhaps if he survives the mission, he will have learned something of her bravery.

There's a gentle tug on his shirt. Shepard leads him toward the elevator.

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

When they stumble into her cabin, her eyes are already bleary with his venom. Thane presses her into the bed, one hand cradling her neck while the other winds into her hair. His lips are slow but strong, kissing her like he knows nothing else. She's never felt so wanted before.

"How far do you want to take this?" she gasps when he trails her mouth down her jaw.

"This was your idea," his mouth is scorching on the column of her neck. She leans back to give him better access. "How far do you want to take this?"

Her insides are on fire at the feel of his mouth alone, and logic says she's crazy to jump into bed with another fucking species so suddenly. But she doesn't care - she's spent enough sleepless nights imagining this very moment. She wants his hands on her bare skin, she wants the forbidden unknowns of his alien body. With every fiber of her being, she wants. But it's easier to think about it than to say it.

"More," she says finally - breathlessly. Words are fleeting. Her hands fist the edges of his shirt and he obliges, pulling away so she can lift it off before she begins pulling off her own.

And then he surprises her by playfully rolling her on to her belly, kissing the back of her neck, her spine, palms trailing an electric line down her sides.

"I confess," he murmurs between kisses, "You were right to accuse me of being, as you say, an 'ass man.'" She moans as those strong hands settle on her backside, fingers kneading her flesh with delicious strength. Good god.

Words are difficult, but she manages. "Don't get any ideas, I'm not letting you fuck my ass."

"It wasn't my intention. Is that something humans do?"

Shepard snorts. "Don't act like you didn't know that."

He laughs like she's never heard before, a rich and jubilant peal in that dark voice she's come to savor. She can nearly feel the soft vibrations of that laugh through his hands as he presses his fingertips between her legs. “I’d rather know where you burn hottest,” he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he strokes her just hard enough to make his intentions understood.

"Oh fuck yes."

His palms return to her backside, sliding up to hook his fingers into her waistband. "May I?"

She nods furiously, her own hands closing over his to push her clothes off.

When she's firmly on her back again he drags down the zipper on the front of her bra. It's flung on the floor with the rest of her things and then she's bare before him, biting her lip under the heat of his hungry gaze. She wonders if he can see her body vibrating in anticipation.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, settling his knees between her thighs. He crawls up to kiss her. "For weeks, I've thought about touching you."

She hums as he strokes the rounded edges of her breasts.

"Your body is so wonderfully soft, will you tell me if there's something you don't like?"

"Yeah," is all she can manage before his mouth returns to her neck, his hands wandering like a dying man searching for water. She's certain to have hickeys by the time they're done.

Curious, she brings a hand up to stroke the delicate flesh of his throat. His answering groan confirms her suspicions, and suddenly his questing hands are not so chaste, closing with suffocating warmth around her breasts.

Shepard bites her lip. "Please don't tell me you think breasts are gross."

He shakes his head. "I'll admit I find it strange that human breasts are erogenous, given their purpose. But they aren’t ‘gross,’ as you say. Just... new." She pushes her chest into his palms and that gets a rise out of him - a lovely trembling purr in his throat. "And so soft, Siha."

"Feels good," she murmurs. With parted lips, she breathes her pleasure as he kneads her breasts in slow, sensuous circles, dipping his head to kiss along her sternum and at the tender underside of her flesh.

"I think I might like them,” he says, lips twinged upwards.

Her need flares with that simple statement and she pulls in a breath, straining against him.

"I hadn't imagined how... tempting they could be. Soft curves... ripe like fruit at peak season." A strained moan falls from her mouth when he punctuates his statement with a more appreciative squeeze and draws a thumb over one sensitive peak, his mouth close enough to make her whimper in frustration.

“You’re teasing me.”

"I’m exploring you, Siha. There’s so much to learn." He circles his fingertips around her nipples and they tighten in response. The visual alone has her reeling, electric sparks of need slipping down her spine and straight into her core. "Your body shows me what it wants," he murmurs. "My mouth begs to taste you."

He flicks his tongue out, sampling her in light, infuriating strokes, teasing until she's keening beneath his hands, eyes shut tight and panting over clenched teeth. It's hard to think about anything at all except his hands and lips and that rumbling voice shimmering across her sensitized skin.

She strangles out a moan when his lips close around her nipple and he hollows his cheeks, drawing it into his mouth before releasing it with a soft, wet pop. Her arms clamp reflexively around his neck in an unspoken order to keep still.

"Do that again," she gasps.

He complies without question, textured fingers on one breast and wet tongue on the other, toying with her. Her back arches, hands holding herself like an offering to his mouth, every touch like a phantom crack of lust between her legs. There's a low rumble in his throat, he's practically purring into her skin and she can feel it, thighs clenching together in desperation.

She whines when he finally pulls away.

"I'll be back for those," he promises. "I hadn't expected such enthusiasm."

Fingertips brush her inner thigh and she leans into the touch, wanting more - for fuck's sakes - more - gasping out a shuddering breath she didn't even know she was holding when he flattens his fused fingers into her seam. Face buried in her neck doing god knows what with his lips and tongue, he's exploring her by touch alone. Each press of his hand is excruciatingly gentle, pushing slowly into her slick channel, gliding upwards to her clit. She's so sensitive that she flinches when he brushes over it, clutching at his shoulders.

"Too much?" He asks.

She hadn't even realized her eyes were closed. Her throat is dry, but she rasps, "Not enough."

His full lips curve into a smile before he strokes her again and this time she moans, pushing back on his hand as much as she can manage. Her mind is chanting "please, please," but she won't beg. Not yet, at least.

His voice rouses her from her desperate thoughts.

”Your species makes great effort to avoid using definitive terms for this part of your body."

"Do we?” She asks, willing her thoughts to clear enough for her to speak. “I mean, there's pussy, snatch... cunt, if you're feeling profane."

His voice drops a register lower, and he leans close enough for her to feel his hot breath when he speaks. "Shepard, I believe the technical term is vulva."

She groans. Loudly. "Fuck off."

He huffs out a stiff laugh. "Perhaps you'd prefer something new. Ara'te. Chalice of Arashu."

She tries - and fails - to hide her impatience. "Really?"

"Do you find it repulsive?"

"No, I just... mixing religion and sex is kind of..." She fumbles with her answer, not wanting to offend, but the words are gone from her when he leans in and draws the flat of his tongue in a wide sweep between her legs. "-Jesus, Thane."

His voice is thick with amusement. "How interesting that you invoke the name of a god you don't believe in, if I touch you just so."

Shepard's mouth snaps shut and she looks pointedly away from him with a huff.

"But I digress," he says, fingers rippling along her seam. Scaled hands smooth over her slickness, spreading her with gentle consideration. His mouth is dangerously close, gaze fixed on her with eyes like gleaming onyx. Something in the way his voice drops sets her heart racing.

“You feel like the softest silk,” he whispers, each word rolling off his tongue in a veil of hot breath that cools over the heat of her wet center. Her eyes flutter closed as he presses his exploration, teasing her entrance with his joined fingers.

"Your body is a wellspring," he murmurs, slowly penetrating her with his hand. "Drenched with arousal… begging me into your depths."

She gasps when he takes the opportunity to flick at her with his tongue. Hips grind against his hand, desperately seeking more.

"What the fuck," she moans. "Don't stop."

He withdraws only to enter her again, this time sheathing an extra finger in her heat. Those fingers crook inside her and she damn near twitches off the bed, drawing a sound from him somewhere between amusement and arousal.

"So sensitive, Siha."

It feels like she's melting under the intensity of his touch, a thumb moving in teasing circles around her clit. She hisses, thighs clenching.

"Holy shit just touch me."

"Like this?" he asks in a tone that's infuriatingly playful, barely skimming his tongue across her clit.

"God damn it, Thane, you know what I want-"

He interrupts her, his voice suddenly more serious.

"Show me."

There's silence, and then Shepard blinks at him. "What?"

"Show me how you like to be touched."

"You want to watch me?" her mouth goes dry and her answering tone is more accusatory than she intends. "Because you're a freak, or because you don't know how to touch a woman?"

"Yes." He says simply, dodging both of her questions with irritating smugness.

Her knees twitch inward, uncertain, and with a deep inhale, he withdraws.

"Siha," he murmurs apologetically, taking her hand. "You've left all your confidence on the battlefield.”

The words slip straight through the cracks in her armor. It's painful, but he's right. Cerberus didn't bring her back because they wanted her, they brought back Commander Shepard. The woman she used to be is an afterthought. There's only the mission. The Hero of the Citadel. The Commander.

But here they are, Thane's enormous black eyes boring holes into her defenses in a silent plea for… something. His hand finds hers and their fingers intertwine, resting together on her hip. His expression is more unguarded than she's ever seen, eyes asking a silent question: Do you trust me? Do you want me?

"All my victories have been on the battlefield," she says, looking away.

His thumb soothes back and forth over her hand.

"Intimacy is not a war. What do you hope to triumph over?"

Still unwilling to meet his eyes, her face twists with discomfort.

"I haven't had a lot of partners. I'm laying here naked and you're playing games. I can't tell if you're just teasing or looking for an excuse to drive me off."

His expression softens. "Our differences are not merely physical, then."

She isn’t certain what he means, but Thane shifts to lay next to her, kissing her temple. His fingers tighten around hers in a gentle grip that doesn't let up, finally summoning her eyes back to his.

"On my heart, Siha, there is no place I would rather be than right here with you." There's a genuine apology in his tone, prying her heart open one painstaking centimeter at a time. "Do you want this?"

Her voice is small, but she doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Show me what you like," Thane's lips brush against her ear. "Remember that I won't forget." The way his voice rumbles makes her shiver.

He takes her hand and presses a kiss into her palm before setting it atop her thigh. It’s a relaxing gesture, indirect enough that he's not backing down while also letting her choose the next move. His lips are unhurried, traveling up her neck, against her ear, along her hairline.

Years of lackluster partners have tempered her expectations - she’s never shared herself with anyone as intense as Thane; and although she'd never admit it, his sexual confidence is damn near intimidating. But his hot breath against her ear and his endless, patient kisses are an irresistible pull of wanting.

This man is far from bored, she realizes. He's only awaiting her permission to give her something she's never experienced.

Her chest rises and falls in deep, shaky breaths. "No games," she whispers.

"No games," he agrees.

Biting her lip, she guides his hand back to the apex of her thighs. He offers no resistance, humming his approval when she slicks his fingertips through her heat and sets them carefully against her clit.

They move together then, her hand on his, teasing herself while he kisses her neck and shoulder, slowly making his way across her chest. How long has it been since she found release beneath the hands of another? The quiet intimacy of their joined hands, the subtle texture of his scales leaves her breathless, delirious with pleasure, his fingertips sliding effortlessly against her slick center. His mouth wanders over her skin, her breasts, every touch so electric she’s almost not ready for how fast her release sneaks up on her.

"I'm close," she whimpers with eyes squeezed shut, "Oh fuck, Thane, I'm so close."

"Yes, Siha,” he whispers. “Come for me."

She breaks. Every cell in her body clenches in a singularity of pressure before she's launched out in a million pieces, shimmering in the dim light. For once, it doesn't feel cold in her cabin. Waves of heat ripple under her skin, pulsing with every second she spends teasing the tail end of her climax.

She doesn't realize she has a death grip on his hand until she's gone completely still. If it hurts him, he says nothing, only wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close. When she looks back at him, he's watching her with a knowing, lustful smile. She reaches for him, stroking his delicate neck and earning an appreciative hum that makes her heart beat just a little faster.

"Not that I didn't like you before, but..." she brushes her fingertips along his jaw, tilting his head toward her, "God damn."

Maybe human biology actually is as interesting as he proclaims, if one good orgasm can flood her with this much oxytocin. Like crossing a proverbial threshold, she feels her confidence returning, if only just to tell him we are definitely doing this again. As soon as possible.

"The privilege is mine." His voice is flecked with desire, words she believes so wholeheartedly she can almost see them in the air.

"How are you still wearing pants?"

He growls approvingly as she climbs over him and her fingertips slip beneath his waistband.

"Let's see what I'm about to get myself into," she says with a sly upturn of her lips.

"Or, if you wish - what you're about to get into yourself, " he retorts with no small amount of innuendo.

Immediately she wishes they'd done this sooner. He's... gorgeous. It isn't so much that she thought he wouldn't be, but his anatomy is every bit as colorful as the rest of him and that is a surprise. His length blooms from its internal sheath, a strong and gently ridged gradient of red and purple, nearly glowing in contrast against his green scales.

"Nice," she breathes, reaching for him. "Sorry if I don't have any pretty words to explain how much I want to put this beautiful thing in my mouth." Then she has a thought. "Do you have any fancy words for 'dick?'"

He puffs out an amused laugh and cracks a smile. "I seem to recall you saying something about religion and sex..."

"Humor me," she says, leaning in close enough to make his breath catch from the proximity of her mouth alone.

"Amo'ti," he says. "In your language-"

"Spear of Amonkira?"

He raises a brow ridge at her. "I'm impressed."

She gives his length an appreciative squeeze, testing the give of his ridges, humming at the surprising velvet texture of his skin.

"Maybe," she says slowly, matching the intensity of his gaze, "You can tell me how impressed you are after this." And without any further pretense, she engulfs him with her mouth.

In an instant, his head tips back, and she feels a familiar confidence returning. Men, she thinks, are hopelessly predictable in their pursuit of a hot mouth to fuck. And exactly as expected, Thane's hips are rolling gently forward. She slips her tongue around his length, watching the dancing iridescent scales along the shifting planes of his thighs and stomach.

In the back of her mind, she wonders if drell even do this as much as humans do. But it doesn't seem to matter when he sets his jaw in rapt concentration, visibly struggling to keep his eyes open and fixed on her. She doubles down, flattening her tongue against the underside of his shaft and hollowing her cheeks on the upstroke. His hands thread into her hair, sweeping it from where it falls in front of her eyes and gathering it around his fingers.

Tempted to tease him, she pulls back until the very tip of his length rests against her lips and sweeps her tongue across the head with a seductive smile. Their eyes lock and the sound he makes causes her core to fucking throb with wanting. One hand working him with each teasing swipe of her tongue, she slips lower, plants her lips on the base of his shaft to kiss him with an open mouth. He's shaking now, he's got to be close-

With a strangled gasp, his hips twitch away from her and she stills herself.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No," is his breathless response. "Quite the opposite. Come here."

She climbs astride him, pressing the length of their bodies together as his arms enfold her. "That good?"

"Join with me, Siha," he murmurs, his voice low and laced with need. "Find your release in mine."

An unexpected chill slips through her, tingling every nerve with an onset of understanding. She can hear it in the undertones of his voice: I want you. This was never a game. We will be whole, together.

He rocks against her just enough to grab her attention. The brush of his length between her legs is electrifying - his eyes searching, his body asking.

"I'm… uh…" Shepard bites her lip, processing the words slowly. "I haven't been with anyone since I... came back."

His fingers intertwine with hers for the umpteenth time that morning. It's a gesture she's rapidly coming to adore for all its patience and admiration. He kisses the back of her hand, voice low and steady. "You're in control, Commander."

There's something in his well-placed acknowledgement of her authority that placates her. Maybe it's the traces of venom in her system or maybe it's just him, but this man beneath her - this assassin, feared and infamous for the lives he's taken - swells her heart with trust. It's a new and curious thing, so different from the trust shared between brothers in arms. It's simple intimacy, and maybe… just maybe… something more.

Eyes never leaving his, she steadies herself and sinks down on him.

They join together with delicious slowness, his hips willfully unmoving beneath her as she takes him in. The pressure is exquisite, edging somewhere between too much and not enough, each ridge of his florid length finding its place within the scorching depths of her body. She's nearly sweating as their hips go flush, eyes tipping closed with the sweet pulse of their joining.

One painstaking second at a time, she adjusts. It doesn't hurt, but she's afraid it damn well might if she starts riding him like her lust-fueled mind is screaming to. She stifles her own desire, wills her body for control as she twists and flexes herself to banish the lingering anxiety about her reconstruction. It might even be embarrassing - wriggling against him like a damn virgin - but there's no judgement in his eyes. If anything, he's holding back his own pleasure, unmoving while he waits for her. Hands braced against his shoulders, she pushes up, finally bottoming out with a low, wanting moan. His length lodges against her deepest reaches. It feels fucking perfect.

"Fuck," she breathes with a cursory flick of her hips. "Holy shit, Thane."

Features painted with pleasured focus, he's stone still beneath her, hands patiently cradling her waist. Thane, her unlikely but disciplined lover, waiting for her next order.

Her voice is a whisper against his lips.

"Let's fucking do this."

And with that, he begins to move with her.

The groan in his throat vibrates through her entire body as she begins to ride him. Her fingers clasp around his shoulders, afraid to put too much pressure on his transplant scars. He grasps her hands in his own, holding her firm and letting her weight fall against him, hips rolling with her as she finds her rhythm.

His voice is a breathy sound somewhere beneath her. "Siha… don't hold back."

She gasps when the next thrust hits home.

"Shut up," she huffs, slanting her lips over his.

Despite their hours spent together on the battlefield, his strength is shocking. It's near impossible to tell who's riding who, his hands firmly on her hips, his body moving beneath her like the rolling ocean, all muscle and sinuous control. Either sex is way better than she remembers, or he's just that good. He ripples in and out of her depths, each of his gentle ridges strumming her like a harp, sweat rolling down the back of her neck.

His venom is already refreshing its hold on her mind when she breaks their kiss for breath. There's a kind of weightlessness to the high - she floats up, baring herself to his wandering hands. They slide against the plane of her stomach, cupping her breasts, plucking teasingly at her nipples. It's enough to make her cry out, heedless to the rest of the world, grinding on him for all she's worth. She feels the hot coil of release building within her, sensations concentrated in every point of contact. The texture of his scales against her inner thighs, his teasing fingertips on her breasts… his burning length buried within her, filling her to completion like no other.

In the throes of his venom, her cabin disintegrates, and there beneath an endless veil of stars, they are one - chasing release in the arms of the other. Words can't describe this perfect headspace. Later, all she'll be able to say is how he feels so good, wishing she could borrow his eidetic memory if only for these few perfect, fleeting moments, to revisit at her behest.

She slips one hand down to massage her clit and pitches her head back in a gasp, walls clenching involuntarily around his length, drawing a low rasp of pleasure from his beautiful, perfect mouth. Their voices are a litany of breathless sounds, a chorus of shared ecstasy - the desperate succession of skin meeting scales, the trilling of his ruby throat and the expletives that fall from her parted lips. She's close - unbelievably close - and damn near unwilling to finish if it means this moment will end, a rare second climax bearing down on her as she folds against him. Even with her hand trapped between their bodies, the sweet pebbled friction of his scales threatens to push her over the edge whether she's ready or not.

She releases with a scream, his name barely intelligible in a strangled half-sobbed cry of bliss that can't be silenced even as she buries her face in his shoulder. Thane's strong arms wind around her waist, holding her as he drives into the silken, pulsing clench of her heat with abandon. The sound of him illuminates the darkness behind her closed eyes as he spends himself within her and she can feel it - a glittering tingle of sensation radiating between her legs, up her spine and blooming into a full scale high.

And then she sags against his chest, heaving breaths in tandem with him, unable to give two tenths of a shit about her hand going numb between them.

"Thane..." She whispers. "Thane, holy shit."

"Are you hurt?"

"...No. I feel... tingly. It's good. It's so… just, good. Holy shit." Her head lolls against his shoulder. She won't open her eyes - not yet. Whatever's going on out there beyond his embrace - for once, it's not her problem. She feels over-relaxed, tinged with unreality. Like a dream. When had she gotten so damn high? If they'd barely -

...Oh, she realizes.

Drell toxin. Inside her.

Thane hums in contentment, his familiar alien hands soothing through her hair. She wonders if he feels just as sated as she does.

"Tell me it was good for you too," she whispers softly against his aural ridge.

"Siha," his voice is quiet, as if murmuring a secret, "It feels unfair to tell you how many times I will revisit this memory."

"I'll allow it, if you tell me we can do this again."

"As if you even need to ask," he chuckles breathlessly. "Yes, I’d like that."

"I don't think I've ever been fucked like that. I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk straight.”

“Not the word I would use, but I’m glad to hear I’ve pleased you.”

She feels his mouth move in a smile and takes a strong inward breath, raising her head to look at him. She can see her own silhouette in his fathomless dark eyes.

"Say it," she demands.

His brows - those gorgeous, expressive, glittering emerald brows - raise in curiosity. It must be the venom making him so vibrant.

"Pardon?"

Shepard extends one finger to gently prod his chest. "Say 'fuck.'"

He laughs beneath her and it feels like her whole body is bouncing, joining him in his mirth.

That laughter reaches his eyes and his expression softens. "I think perhaps we've overindulged. I didn't expect you'd be so heavily affected."

Her eyes widen in mock incredulity. "Overindulged? Don't you dare tell me that was too much for you."

A viridian palm settles against her cheek, his lips curled in a soft smile so rare it seems like a gift. "What I mean to say is it may have been too much for you, Siha."

She pauses, pushes herself up on shaky arms and sits back on his thighs. He's softening within her, and the retreat of him leaves a trail inside her that feels... not exactly, but... Sort of like someone stuck a breath mint where it doesn't belong. Shepard smiles inwardly. It feels kind of great.

"I'm Commander Shepard," she intones, setting her hands on her hips in a dramatic display of confidence. "I can handle getting dicked down by the most deadly lizard in the galaxy."

Thane is damn near grinning now. “My apologies, Commander. I will think twice before underestimating your abilities in the future.”

"I'm not moving until I hear you say 'fuck.'" She retorts, arms crossed.

"You're wrong, if you assume I want you anywhere but right here."

He reaches for her arms, trailing down her to her wrists to clasp her hands. Above him, she watches as though entranced, the dim light of her cabin blurring the edges of her vision and bringing the slow intertwining of their fingers into crisp focus. For all their differences, they fit together so beautifully. Her heart feels full.

"Thane..."

Their eyes meet as he kisses her fingertips.

"Fuck you, Siha."

#zet writes things #thane krios #shrios #spiritual shrios summer #fshrios #o boy please dont judge me too hard cause ive never worked on a fic so hard in my life and i have no idea what i'm doing

35 notes · View notes

mistresseast · 3 years

Text

Here is my shuake temporary amnesia threadfic I posted to Twitter earlier! Presented to you in screenshots for the full cinematic experience of being spammed with gross fluff on your timeline. The complete text is under the cut in case you don’t want to or can’t wade through all of those images ❤️

The procedure was really simple. Akira’s appendix hadn’t burst or anything, it was just inflamed and the doctor decided to have it removed as a precaution. Nothing to get worked up about, Goro kept telling himself. His husband would be in and out within a day, no hospital stay required.

Akira was all jokes before the surgery, teasing Goro about putting on a nurse’s outfit to take care of him at home, and Goro just said something threatening about suppositories, which earned a cheeky laugh.

It didn’t take long, and the other thieves showed up right as Akira was getting out. He was pretty woozy as the anesthesia wore off, but Goro was just relieved everything had gone perfectly, according to the surgeon.

When Goro comes back, eyes red-rimmed but dry, the thieves are visibly struggling to hold it together. Ryuji is facing the corner, shoulders shaking. Ann and Futaba are clinging to each and Haru has her hand over her mouth. Makoto is holding her head like she has a headache.

Except when Akira is coherent again, he’s...weird. He keeps avoiding Goro’s eyes and he barely responds to the others when they speak to him. Goro tries to take his hand, and he locks up, going pale. The others just watch, looking awkward, and Goro excuses himself, suddenly feeling ill.

Akira is sitting up in bed, beaming.

“What happened?” Goro asks.

Sumi smiles innocently. “Nothing.”

Goro eyes them all with suspicion. “The neurologist will be here soon to clear him for discharge.”

“Great,” Ann squeaks.

“Somehow, I do not think--” Yusuke starts before two of the others shush him.

Well, that’s weird, but when are the thieves not weird? Goro is more interested in Akira, who’s staring at him with a crooked grin.

“Feeling better?” Goro asks, retaking his seat.

“I am now that you’re here,” Akira says, flashing him a wink.

Goro squints at him. “Are you sure? You were pretty out of it earlier. I can go get a doctor—”

“That was nothing,” Akira insists. “I was just surprised to wake up to someone so pretty waiting at my bedside.”

“Oh is that what it was.” Rolling his eyes, Goro sits forward to guide Akira back down against the pillows. “You shouldn’t be sitting up. You’ll pop your stitches.”

“Yes, sir.” Akira lies back obediently and catches Goro’s hand when he tries to pull away. “I can think of some more fun ways to pop them, anyway. Are you free later?”

Goro stares at him while Futaba lets out a hysterical giggle and Makoto mumbles something.

“You think you’re so cute,” Goro says eventually. “The doctor said to hold off on that for at least a week.”

"Oh, right." Akira hitches up his coy smile. "What's your schedule like in a week, then?"

Cheeks warm, Goro cuts his eyes to the others, who are all studiously avoiding looking at the bed. "What's gotten into you?" he scolds. Akira is never this…overt in public.

Akira's smile droops. "I...sorry, I—" He flicks a glance at the others as well, and Goro catches Ann giving an encouraging little hand wave.

"What?" Goro directs at her. "Is something wrong?"

She shakes her head quickly, eyes wide and glittering.

"Everything's fine," Akira insists. "I was just...uh, wondering if, after I'm recovered, you'd like to grab some coffee or something?"

Goro furrows his brows at him. "You realize that's a ridiculous question, right? What are you playing at?"

"But—you—" Frowning, Akira darts a look down at the ring encircling Goro's fourth finger, then over at the rest of his friends. "You guys—"

Futaba bursts out laughing and Ryuji nearly keels over from the force of his own elated wheezing. Makoto pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry," Akira mumbles, releasing Goro's hand, cheeks red. "I guess they thought it'd be funny to play a trick on a sick person."

"A trick?" Goro repeats blankly.

"Of course you're already taken, someone as hot as you—" Akira scrubs a hand through his hair. "I saw your ring but they said it wasn't—you weren't—"

Realization clicks in Goro's head and he angles a glare at the others, which apparently breaks the final seal because the remaining thieves, minus Makoto, dissolve into helpless giggling.

"I'm really sorry," Akira continues, oblivious. "If I knew, I wouldn't have hit on you, but you're just so...and when I woke up and saw you being so nice to me, I thought, you know—" he grimaces.

"Oh my god." Goro rubs his temples.

"When you left, I asked them if you were single and they said yes, but they were just taking me for a ride." Akira scowls at the others. "Not cool, guys."

Futaba snorts. She has her phone out and pointed at them but Goro can't worry about that at the moment. "Akira, how much do you remember right now?"

Akira shrugs. "Everything's pretty hazy. I figured you all had to be my friends since you don't look like family and you were all really happy when I woke up, but I can't remember the specifics. That happens with anesthesia sometimes, right?"

"Yes, it—" Goro breaks off on a sigh.

"Look, I'm really sorry again," Akira says earnestly, "—and I hope this doesn't make things awkward with us, but I just wanna say that I hope whoever you're with knows how lucky they are."

"Oh, they do," Ryuji pipes up. "They never shut up about it!"

The others all snicker and Goro wishes he was close enough to elbow Ryuji in the gut.

"Good." Akira smiles sadly, putting Goro in mind of a kitten left in the rain. "Who is it, anyway? Do I know them?"

Goro makes a strained noise in the back of his throat. "Akira, it's you."

Akira blinks. "What?"

Digging in his pocket, Goro produces a simple silver band and grabs Akira's hand. "You're the person I'm with, we're married—" he slides the ring into Akira's unresisting finger. "And your friends are all assholes."

Akira stares slack-jawed at his ring. "Wait, really?" He glances between Goro and the others. "Really?"

Goro nods with another sigh while the others struggle to compose themselves.

"Sorry," Ann says, at least looking a little contrite. "When we realized he didn't remember you, we just couldn't resist."

"We owe you," Sumi titters. "Please don't be mad! We'll make it up to you!"

"You absolutely will," Goro grumbles, already planning just how he's going to make the thieves pay for this.

"Hang on—" Akira snags Goro's hand again, eyes shining. "We're really married?"

"Yes," Goro answers patiently. "For nearly two years."

"Holy shit," Akira marvels. "How did I manage that?"

"Here we go," Futaba groans.

Goro shoots her a warning look before reaching over and smoothing Akira's fringe off his forehead. "Hopefully you'll remember that on your own soon." He doesn't really want to recount the whole operatic series of events.

Akira leans shamelessly into the touch, a dopey smile growing on his face.

The neurologist assures them that Akira's brain is fine and that this kind of disorientation is common after general anesthesia. Nevertheless, he stays in the hospital until his memories start returning.

"Look at it this way," Ann suggests while Akira hides his face in embarrassment and Goro signs his discharge papers. "Now you both know that Akira's not just into you because you tried to kill him."

Goro still isn't pleased with the thieves, but he's starting to see the humor in the situation. "That's definitely a load off my mind. Though now I'll have to rethink our anniversary plans."

Akira whines something that sounds like "please stop"

"I did quite enjoy hearing about how hot I am, though."

Akira lowers his hands, pouting petulantly. "I tell you that all the time."

"You should remind me more often."

"Oh?" Some familiar impishness sparks in Akira's gaze. "So you like when I praise you?"

"Your memories must still be hazy because that's not a secret."

"Please don't do this," Makoto begs.

Laughing, Akira ignores her and makes grabby hands at Goro. Smirking, Goro sets his clipboard aside and leans forward, allowing Akira to pull him into a kiss.

It's just as sweet as always.

#shuake #akeshu #shuake fic #my fic #isablogging

211 notes · View notes

queen-haq · 3 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 7

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and light smut.

Words: ~2200 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Chapter 7

You should have asked Billy to stop. The logical part of you knew fucking him in some dirty alleyway was wrong. You deserved better than this, even if he didn’t think so, but when his mouth was on yours and ravaging you, and you were filled with so much anger that you wanted to scream – well, it dulled the sane part of you. Your body was desperate for release and you simply gave into your baser instincts.

You ripped his leather jacket off while he did the same with your coat. You bit his bottom lip so hard you tasted blood in your mouth as he braced you uncomfortably against the jagged wall. There was nothing remotely tender or loving about this moment as he pulled your underwear down and hiked up your skirt to your waist. Knee propped against the wall, he balanced you atop his leg. You rubbed yourself on his thigh, groaning at the arousing feel of his rough jeans on your pussy. The moans you cried out were swallowed by his demanding mouth, his fingers bruising your hips as he held you steady.

You quickly unzipped his jeans, pulling his cock out, pumping him quickly before he forcibly removed your hand from his. His fingers slipped inside your mouth and you licked them with your tongue, your teeth nipping his skin. You were so wet already, grinding down on him, but he took his fingers from your mouth and reached down to stroke your pussy, getting you ready for him. You gasped when he penetrated you slowly, taking his time so you felt every inch of him impale you. Your body shuddered, quivering under the intensity of his gaze as he watched you take him in. Then he began to thrust, jostling your body hard against him. Clinging to him, you bit his shoulder hard each time.

You missed him, the feel of his hands all over you when he was excited, the weight of his body pressing down on you when he was inside you, how loud and wild he was when he was fucking you.

Eyes closed, you lolled your head back against the wall and moaned loudly as he brushed your clit. The combination of his cock and fingers drove you crazy, you were lost in a haze of ecstasy when Billy lifted you higher. You winced with pain as your back scraped against the wall but he didn’t notice, focused on maneuvering your leg around his waist so he can go in deeper.

Pain and pleasure rocked through your body. You could feel yourself getting close, so close, when he suddenly gripped your chin.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His voice was tender, gentle, eyes shining bright. “Look at me, Y/N.”

His beautiful brown eyes were glazed with need, mouth slightly open. He peered up at you, his nose crinkled, with the most amazed expression on his face. Struck by an intense wave of affection, you caressed his beard and leaned forward to lick his bottom lip. A warm, wicked smile marked his lips before he pulled your lip with his teeth, playing with you.

Hips undulating in unison, his fingers working you, you hit your orgasm within seconds and the world exploded.

As waves of pleasure surged through you, you rode them out, blissful and semi-aware of Billy still thrusting in you as he sucked the corner of your neck. He groaned loudly, his body shaking, when he finally came inside you.

Time stood still. Your body felt boneless, your mind soaring.

You were limp in his arms, probably heavy as hell, but he somehow managed to still hold you up, breath ragged at first but slowly returning to normal. He grasped the back of your head with one hand while cradling your face with the other, angling up to graze your forehead, your eyebrows, dropping gentle kisses on the top of your closed eyelids. You murmured contentedly, enjoying this unexpected moment of tenderness from him.

Then you heard voices approaching and your eyes flew open. The reality of where you were hit you like a ton of bricks. Immediately you untangled yourself from Billy’s arms, pushing him away, and started righting your clothes.

Your thighs felt wet, slick with his cum. You dug through your pockets for Kleenex, something you could use to clean yourself but there wasn’t any. But Billy was prepared, of course he was. His eyes glued to your face, he retrieved tissue from his jacket pocket and started wiping your thighs. “I can do it!” you snapped, grabbing it from him. When you felt somewhat presentable again, you started walking away.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

You pulled out your phone to request an Uber but he snapped it from your hand. “What are you doing? Give me my phone back!”

“I’ll take you home.”

“I’ll get home myself. I don’t need anything from you!”

“Just shut up and follow me to my car.”

The last thing you wanted was to spend more time with him but he was holding your phone hostage. You followed him grudgingly, careful to keep your distance. The car was parked nearby and upon approaching the vehicle, he held the passenger side door open for you. You knew better than to assume the chivalrous gesture was meant for you specifically. It was a thing he always did, as part of the charming image he cultivated, but whereas he usually wore a smile when he held the door open, right now he simply looked furious. You slid in; he slammed the door shut. As you buckled your seat belt, you grimaced. The same spot on your back that had scraped against the wall was now rubbing against the seat and the friction from the contact was almost painful.

The car ride home was filled with tension. You felt his eyes on you every so often but you refused to acknowledge him, not when your mind was reeling with hurt and anger. How could you be so stupid? You were supposed to move on from him, instead you fucked him in some alleyway next to a crowded restaurant. Worse yet, there was a chance your boss may have spotted you. You may have potentially risked your career for a guy who wouldn’t even go out with you.

Over the past year, researching him as you had, you’d come to realize he needed the finer things in life. His car, his penthouse, the clothes he wore, they were all a status symbol for him. He needed them to feel like he’d accomplished something, probably to separate himself from the kid who grew up in foster homes and had nothing. Women, obviously, played into that equation as well. Women like Dinah Madani, beautiful, powerful, accomplished, they looked great in his arms and made him feel good about himself – but you were not in the same category of women as Dinah and he treated you accordingly. She was good enough to take to the gala, to be the date he wined and dined. You were the woman he fucked in secret. Well, not exactly a secret because he fucked you on the street like you were trash. Somehow you didn’t think Dinah Madani would ever get the two-bit whore treatment from Billy.

Rage hit you again, and you scooted as far from him as possible. The movement caused the sore spot on your back to hit the chair again and you winced.

“You okay?” he asked.

You were starting to panic, taking count of everything that had gone wrong in the past hour. The man who tried to kill you was out on bail. Roger found out you had shared embarrassing info with a competitor, which may have potentially jeopardized your job. You just fucked someone without protection, someone who was known for sleeping around.

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, everything was weighing down on you. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You hunched over, clutching your temples, staring down at the floormat. You were struggling to breathe, your chest felt constricted.

You felt Billy rub your back, murmuring some nonsense to you, but you ignored him, instead closing your eyes to take a few deep breaths. You inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly. You did it for several minutes. Soon the panic subsided and a familiar numbness took over. Your mind was clear again.

So, yeah, you were in deep shit at the moment, but it was nothing compared to what you’d gone through in the past. You were able to get out of your family’s clutches, that meant you could get through anything. You just had to be calm and formulate a plan.

Okay. Out of everything that had gone wrong, the easiest thing to fix was an unwanted pregnancy. You’d go down to the pharmacy and get Plan B. That way you didn’t have to worry about being knocked up. And then you’d make an appointment next week with the clinic to get checked out. Even though Billy was usually very careful about using a condom – except today – you had no idea how many other women he was sleeping with and you didn’t want to risk catching anything from him.

Two things down, two more things to go.

First thing when you got home, you’d call Roger. You’d reassure him that telling Billy about Adam Preston was a one-time thing and you weren’t in the habit of divulging confidential information to a competitor. You were shook up yesterday, you weren’t in your right mind, and that had resulted in a terrible error in judgement. It was never going to happen again. And Roger valued you, he appreciated all the work you did, he wouldn’t hold something so silly over you. And if he saw you fucking Billy? You cringed at the thought, but there was no point in inviting trouble. If he did catch you red-handed, well, you’d cross that bridge when you came to it. “There’s a pharmacy at the end of my street,” you said to Billy, without looking at him. “You can drop me off there.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Adam Preston was the biggest problem you had to overcome. You’d already started looking into his family, trying to find dirt that you could use as leverage against them in case you needed to. But you remembered the look in Adam’s eyes when he’d been ready to kill you. He was unhinged and held you responsible for everything wrong in his life. There was a very good chance he couldn’t be reasoned with or blackmailed, but you were not going to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder in fear. No, never again. You’d spent your entire childhood that way, always wondering what inconsequential thing would set your father off. You were not going to live through that again. So, fuck Adam Preston. If he couldn’t be controlled, then he’d have to be eliminated. Simple as that. And you knew exactly who to turn to for that.

“Give me my phone,” you said to Billy, finally turning to look at him.

Dividing his attention between the road ahead and you, he shot you a confused glance. “I’ve been talking to you for the last ten minutes. Have you heard a single thing I’ve said?”

“No.” You held out your hand. “My phone, Billy.”

“Why do you need to go to a pharmacy?” He cast her a quick glance. “Did I hurt you?”

“I don’t want to get knocked up by you. So I’m going to the pharmacy to get that taken care of. Does that answer your question?”

You noted the way his jaw clenched, but you reminded yourself not to care. You were done with Billy. You were done with feeling like shit. The first time he made you feel worthless, you could console yourself with the fact it hadn’t been your fault. Before you caught him with Dinah, you didn’t know he viewed you. Every time since then, however, was a conscious choice on your part to engage with him which meant you were solely responsible for how pathetic you felt right now. He was selfish, callous, and treated you like shit, and yet you still fucked him. That was something you had to hold yourself accountable to.

Parking his car a few feet away from the pharmacy doors, he turned off his car. His face was dark, his voice terse. “I didn’t force you to fuck me back there, babe. You wanted it as much as I did.”

You met his solemn stare. “You’re right. I did. I fucked you even though you make me feel worthless. There’s only been one other person who’s made me feel that ugly and I cut them out a long time ago - but not you, you I fuck.” A bitter laugh escaped you. “I told you about the Adam thing and what did you do? You went and threw it in my boss’s face so you can brag about Anvil. He could fire me tomorrow and I wouldn’t have any recourse because I’m the one who divulged confidential information. But you feeling smug and superior is obviously more important than me keeping my job.” You looked away from him, staring out the window. “You keep hurting me, and I just let you. For what? Because I have feelings for you? Because some part of me might love you? That’s not a good enough reason.” You shook your head. “I fought like hell to make something of myself, to be safe and happy. I’m not going to let these stupid feelings ruin all that. You will not destroy me.” You felt calm, at peace with your decision. “Give me my phone.”

Your fingers made physical contact when he handed you your phone. His potent stare was affixed on you, angry, volatile, filled with emotion, but you ignored his gaze and snatched the phone away from him.

You opened the door and exited the car, heading to the pharmacy. There was a line at the counter and you took the opportunity to block Billy’s number on your phone.

It was odd. Revealing your weaknesses to Billy, making yourself vulnerable – any of those would have made you hyperventilate before. You weren’t in the habit of giving people ammunition to use against you, but you suspected it was the only way to get rid of Billy permanently. And, strangely, telling him how you felt in the car was freeing. Because, ultimately, it didn’t matter what he thought, the only thing that mattered was you. And you were ready to move on.

Part 8

A/N - As always, thank you for being such a wonderful, generous audience and all the likes, reblogs, comments, asks, and messages you’ve left me. Trust me when I say, I’m committed to finish this story because of you :)

If you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list, please let me know.

Tag List

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh @maralisa124 @tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur @nemesis729 @lysawayne @kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda @advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer @dontjinx-it @darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting--heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher #billy russo imagine #a woman scorned

228 notes · View notes

purpleyellow · 3 years

Text

Intervention

BTS 8th member

Sunny’s masterlist

“The members finally talk to her about what’s going on”

a/n: Not himym being the only reason that I know what interventions are, anywho, welcome back to sunny’s breakdown ft some special guests . Please let me know what you thought of it, your feedback is always welcome💜

The confusion behind the scenes seemed to be minimal as BTS stepped on stage, allowing the girl to focus on the mental checklist she had made to make sure everything was fine for the performance.

Fidgeting with the settings of her in-ear, Sunny got brought back to reality as the spotlights turned on and off onto the members.

She squinted from the lights and said to no one in specific “The middle one isn’t in sync” before lowering her head again and pocketing the mic pack just as a screeching sound broke through the piece “And an interference just happened”

“Geez Sunny, let them do their job” Jin showed up laughing from her side and gave an apologetic smile to some of the staff who shook their heads “This isn’t their first soundcheck, everyone is still fixing up things”

“Yeah, my bad” The girl lowered her shoulders trying to find something else to focus on. Lately having nothing to think about meant going back to thoughts she did not have the energy to face.

Walking from one side to another, she played with the glitter on the mic as a melody started playing and they were told to go on the marks. It didn’t register on Sunny’s mind if it had lasted five minutes or half an hour, all she knew as that soundcheck was done and they went back to monitor the performance.

Standing behind Namjoon’s chair, the girl took a sip from her water bottle as they chatted and waited for the images to come in.

“Did you forget to drink your coffee or something?” Jungkook snickered leaning on her side and also looking at the screens showing the different angles. “You look like you have no soul”

“Because I don’t” Sunny’s monotone caught Taehyung’s attention, who softly slapped her arm and shook his head, mumbling a “Don’t joke like that” and making the two let out an emotionless laugh.

“Okay, I think we’re good” Namjoon thanked the staff, allowing the members to stand up and walk out of the room. Thinking for a second, the leader held Sunny’s arm so they could stay behind “You’ve been out of it a lot lately, we can talk about it for a few minutes”

Shaking her head, the girl kept walking with him by her side “I’m just tired but I’ll make sure it won’t be noticeable on screen and no one is going to get worried, I promise”

“If people are going to notice it or not is something we can deal with after. But I know it’s not just tiredness” He sighed pondering if he should keep going or not “Look, Sehun talked to me-”

“He’s got you worried over nothing,” Sunny stopped walking and looked up at him crossing her arms “Last time we saw each other I said things I shouldn’t have. That’s all”

“You’re not answering his texts and he told me what you said,” Namjoon tilted his head to the side and her gaze shifted to the empty hallway “I’ve always been here to listen to you. It doesn’t have to be today but please let’s talk about whatever is going on”

“Oppa, I-” Sunny sighed and took a deep breath to numb down the feeling of crying “It’s fine. Just a relapse of judgment”

“Having sex with an ex is a relapse of judgment, opening up about-” He said placing a hand on her shoulder but got interrupted by somebody showing up at the end of the hallway. “Unnie?”

“Yunhee, how are you doing?” Sunny smiled softly and skidded away from the boy, who gave the NCT member a small bow before walking down the other way.

“Sorry if I interrupted you guys” Bee smiled awkwardly and the older girl waved her off, giving her a hug before following a random path “Your outfit looks awesome, it reminds me of an ice princess” She commented after a silence fell upon them.

“Thanks, and you’re looking like a fluffy marshmallow,” Sunny said, making the younger giggle and look down at her pastel pink pair of sweats.

“We’re getting fitted in groups, I should get my outfit after the older members are done with theirs” Both of them nodded with the explanation and Sunny looked at the side to check out the three doors labeled NCT. On the other side of the hallway, she read Taemin’s name in one of them and the following one made her flight or fight senses come into play.

“Well, now that you’re here, I should go back to get retouches” She smiled, the nervousness barely being recognized in her voice.

“I was going to get something on catering, but I understand if you don’t want to come” Bee nodded clasping her hands together.

“Oh, yeah. I think I should go back though”

“Look who’s here” Baekhyun’s cheerful voice came from the door she was dreading and, turning around, Sunny saw him and Taehyung standing next to each other in the hallway “It’s been a while Sunny-ah. How are you doing?”

Giving him a smile despite not wanting to, Sunny nodded picking at the lining on her shorts “I’m fine, how are things going for you? Is… Sehun okay?”

“I think so for the most part, you haven’t talked to him yet?” He frowned, showing how part of things he was and Sunny once again nodded, averting her eyes and making the three idols frown at each other.

“Uh, I think I should go inside” Bee shifted awkwardly on her feet, bowing to the two males and looking almost hopefully at Sunny, who didn’t have the heart to ignore her and gave her a quick hug, mumbling an “I’ll text you later”.

“I'll be going too” The BTS girl pointed over her shoulder and went to turn around before getting stopped by her own groupmate.

“You and Sehun aren’t on good terms?” V frowned giving her a side hug that felt oddly suffocating.

“Taehyungie, you’re really out of the loop. They had a fight like two months ago, I thought it was settled by now” Baekhyun crossed his arms seemingly worried “Do you need me to knock some sense into him?”

“No, he’s fine. I’m- I don’t know” Sunny sighed her voice dropping a little before she looked up at Taehyung pleading “Can I please go away now?”

“Is everything okay?” He frowned again running a hand on her back but she pushed it away, finally breathing properly “Sun, do you need anything?”

“I need to get to hair and makeup, then make sure the in-ears are on the right volume before going on stage and performing well enough so I can go home and sleep,” She said it all under a breath and looked up to find the two men staring at her with raised eyebrows. “Can I please go to the dressing room?”

“You should take a rest” Baekhyun nodded going back to his room and giving her a knowing smile “It’s not worth going through all of that so people think you’re doing fine”

“I am fine” Sunny gasped after he closed the door. Turning around in her heels, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at V, who walked faster and blocked her path.

“You don’t have to insist on that so much. We’ve all seen how you’re acting lately, at least let us be there for you” Holding her shoulders in place, Taehyung tried to keep his tone down in order not to catch attention. Yet, the way he spoke gave her a burning sensation around her eyes.

Blinking aimlessly and shaking her head, Sunny bumped shoulders with him as she marched towards the dressing room. Making a straight line towards the makeup chair once she was inside of it without sparing a glance at the other boys.

“We’ll start the recording in two hours,” Namjoon said looking up from his phone and she nodded, closing her eyes for a second so the makeup artist could do her magic and opening them again after she was done.

Looking at herself in the mirror, the logical part of her brain recognized the reflection was indeed her own, yet a little voice insisted on the uncomfortable feeling of dissociation.

Again, time passed without her even noticing what was going on. By the time the members were being escorted back into the vans, Sunny couldn’t remember if she had looked into the camera at the right times, if she had made the right facial expressions, or even bowed when the boys did. Though, after years of experience, she trusted her autopilot to do all of those things without her acknowledgment.

“Oppa?” The girl squinted once they entered the dorms to find Suga sitting on the couch “I thought you were staying at your apartment” Sharing looks, the members slowly made their ways towards the couch as well, J-hope sitting on the smaller one and leaving a space on the side empty “What’s going on?”

“We’re doing an intervention,” Jin crossed his arms, nodding to the seat for her to get comfortable in.

Sighing, she dragged herself next to Hobi and dropped her body there. Looking at the ceiling while Namjoon, Jimin, and occasionally somebody else went on about how she needed to tell them what was going on.

“I’m sorry I worried all of you” She mumbled interrupting them and J-Hope held her hand, running his thumb in the back of it.

“We’re only worried because we don’t know what’s going on” Yoongi affirmed from the other end of the couch “Something has changed in these past few weeks, we just want to understand it better so you don’t have to go through it alone”

Silence fell upon them again as she chewed on her bottom lip, feeling like a disappointment for not having a good reason for the emotions she had been having “Nothing happened”

“Sunny, no one is going to judge you” Taehyung started making her shake her head.

“I mean it. There’s nothing logic that explains why everything is so blank nowadays. I can’t get excited anymore, it’s so frustrating because every time we perform or do anything at all feels like nothing” The girl began catching all of their attention. Toying with the lining on her shorts, she tried her best to keep her eyes dry.

“And I honestly didn’t want to get anyone worried because it’s all going to blow out of proportion and just thinking about it makes me want to lock myself in my room and just sleep because I know it’s not real. Everything is just in my head and I’m so tired of it.”

Namjoon’s voice interrupted her thinking as he felt she was reaching her breaking point “Just because it’s in your mind it doesn’t mean it’s not real. Every thought you have and everything you feel is authentic, sometimes you just need to organize them or get someone to help them make sense”

“I don’t want to drag anyone into this” Shaking her head Sunny sniffed making the boys share sad looks.

“But you want it to go away, don’t you?” The question came from Jin who leaned forward, looking carefully enough to notice her small nod. “I know you’re feeling like you’re going to disappoint people by asking for help. But the truth is we live as a society. You don’t have to face anything alone and we were all put into this world to help each other”

“I know it might be a big step, but later you can consider getting more professional help” Namjoon tested the waters to see how she would react to it. At Sunny’s eyes filling with tears, he slowly went back “I don’t mean it tomorrow, just talking to us is an amazing start”

“There’s only an amount of things the seven of us can say to you to help you go through this. But we’re always open to listen when you feel like it’s getting too much” Jungkook nodded giving her a thumbs up to which Sunny replied with a snort and a roll of eyes.

“Do you feel a little better?” Jimin sneakily asked and she nodded taking a deep breath.

“I still want to sleep though '' Making them laugh, Sunny rested her head on J-Hope’s shoulder and watched them nodding understanding at her.

“One day at a time. And together, not alone” Taehyung said getting up and giving her a good night hug. One by one the members started going to their rooms to get ready for bed. And for that night, Sunny slept a little more relieved than she had before.

167 notes · View notes