#so that's another lesson for me about how i truly can't shut my mouth about anything ✌🏻😌 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvangelbreak · 3 months

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Deprived | Three

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, smoking (cigarettes) word count: 3.4k a/n: thank you so much for the love on this series!! just letting y'all know it's gonna be a slow burn so it's gonna be quite the long series. also made this chapter a bit longer so pls lmk if you like the longer chapters. things will get more exciting from here dw. love you all <3

pov: layla

I was planning on staying at school the whole day, I truly was. But when I felt more eyes on me than usual and murmurs surrounded me with every step I took, I decided I didn't have the energy to endure the whole day. I would skip my next two lessons and come back after lunch, considering I skipped my last two lessons yesterday and the whole point of me being here was to not get expelled for missing too many lessons.

Matt and Chris talked amongst themselves behind me as I walked to my locker but stopped earlier than when I reached it considering theirs were a fair distance from mine. I swung my locker open, still hearing murmurs of my name as people passed by me and I sighed, resting my head on the small shelf inside my locker. I looked across the hallway to see Matt talking to both of his brothers now, looking like they were having a serious conversation.

I pulled my bag out of my locker, swinging it onto my shoulder before I slammed the door closed louder than I usually would out of frustration. People turned to look at me and I slid my hood on, walking down the hallway as people started filtering out for their next class. I walked out the front door without being stopped by anyone, a breath of relief leaving me but once I noticed how hard it was raining, my shoulders slumped slightly.

I couldn't be bothered walking all the way home and back, especially in this rain but I also couldn't stand being at school at the moment. Amidst my thoughts and pulling my pack of cigarettes out of my bag along with my silver zippo lighter, I hadn't noticed the doors of the school opening.

"Hey, social butterfly," Matt appeared beside me, his hair now covered by a black baseball cap. I placed a cigarette between my lips, throwing the packet in my bag before lighting the end of it, "You're gonna smoke that here?"

"Social butterfly?" I asked, not responding to his question verbally as I took puffs of the cigarette.

"The first thing that came to mind," he shrugged, leaning his back against the brick wall behind him.

"Don't you have a class to get to, Captain?" I asked, sarcasm in my tone as he smirked at me. I made sure to blow the smoke away from his face as I spoke since I knew how much it pissed most people off.

"Don't you?" he retorted and I rolled my eyes, looking out at the rain-filled car park in front of me, "Where you going?"

"Don't know," I shrugged, not looking over at him as I spoke, "Can't stand being here but I can't be fucked walking home and back."

"Why don't you wanna be here?" he asked, his question sounding genuinely curious rather than prying.

"Because people can't shut their fucking mouths about me," I answered more harshly than intended before I looked to my right at him, noticing he was looking at the cigarette in my hand, "You want one?"

"Oh no. I don't- I've never..." he trailed off, shaking his head making me snicker to myself.

"Of course not," I mumbled, taking another hit before I let my right-hand drop to my side again, flicking the ash on the floor. Suddenly, the cigarette had been taken from my hand and Matt held it between his lips, taking a long drag.

He exhaled the smoke before he started coughing, holding his chest in the process making me chuckle at him. I took the cigarette from his hand, his cold rings brushing my fingers as I did so.

"You good?" I asked, amusement written on my face and he nodded, coughing lightly, "Went a bit hard for your first time there, pretty boy."

He had a pained look on his face as he looked over at me while I took another drag, looking out at the rain that didn't seem to stop, "How do you do that? It's not even enjoyable."

With a shrug, I said, "Just habitual at this point."

A silence fell between us for a few moments before Matt asked, "You hungry?"

"What?" I asked, pure confusion on my face as I looked at him and he pushed away from the wall.

"I wanna go to McDonald's. You might as well come with," he answered before swinging the door open to the school and walking inside. I stayed in my position, debating whether or not it's a good idea to go with him.

I didn't have any money on me but I also didn't want to stand here for the next few hours doing nothing so by the time he returned, backpack on his shoulder, I dropped the last of the cigarette on the ground. I squished it with my feet before turning to him.

"I don't have any money for food," I told him honestly and he waved me off as he grabbed his keys from his backpack.

"My treat," he answered quickly before he walked into the rain towards his car. I watched as his pace quickened and I bit my lip out of nervous habit. I shortly followed after him, jogging towards the car before I jumped in the passenger seat and swung the door closed behind me.

"I can pay you back tomorrow," I said as he started the car and he gave me a strange look as if he didn't know why I said that.

"It's just McDonald's. My bank account will live," he replied with a smirk and I shook my head.

"I'm fine to pay you back, I just don't have any money on me right now," I pushed further, never liking the idea of people buying things for me.

"Layla, I promise you it's fine. I asked if you were hungry, not if you had money to pay for your own food," he stated matter-of-factly and I pursed my lips before I slumped back into my seat. A brief pause was placed in the car before he said, "Seatbelt."

"Oh shit. Right," I clicked myself in quickly before he repeated the process of placing his right hand on my headrest, turning around and spinning the wheel with his left hand as he reversed.

"You can be on aux if you want," he said as he put the car in drive and we rolled out of the car park.

"I doubt you will like my music," I mumbled in response and he smirked, glancing at me quickly before looking back at the road.

"Try me," he answered and I raised my eyebrows, grabbing my phone from my pocket and plugging it into the aux cable. I clicked on my most recent playlist, the first song being Message in a Bottle by the Police. I looked over at Matt to study his reaction to the music, his hand tapping against the wheel lightly along to the beat.

I hummed along to the song, looking out of the window at the rain pattering along the road. As we pulled into the cark park of McDonald's, the next song began playing which was Paper Machete by Queens of the Stone Age.

"What do you want?" Matt asked as we joined the back of the small queue of cars in the drive-thru, leaning his elbow on the window as he placed his head on his hand.

"Uh..." I trailed off, trying to think of what to get since I hadn't ordered fast food in a while, "Just a large fries is fine."

"You don't want anything else? Cheeseburger or nuggets or something?" he asked and I shrugged, "You like nuggets?"

"I don't mind them," I answered truthfully and he nodded.

"You want a drink?" he asked as we rolled up slowly, only one car in front of us before we had to order.

"Just a medium sweat tea is fine," I replied and he nodded before we rolled up to order.

Matt ordered what he wanted first before ordering my fries and sweat tea but I turned my head when he said, "Oh and can I get a 20-piece nuggets as well. Thanks."

With that, he rolled up to the next window and used his phone to pay for the food before we waited.

"Do you really need 20 nuggets?" I asked and he smirked at me, leaning against his hand again.

"No that's why you're gonna have some," he answered like it was obvious and I frowned. We pulled up to the last window, grabbing our food and Matt handed me the drinks to put in the cupholder before he gave them a quick thank you. He pulled into a car park and slid his seatbelt off.

"Give me the receipt," I held my hand in the middle of the car, sliding the seatbelt off my body and he held the bag in his lap.

"Why?" he asked with a squint of his eyes and I did small grabby-hands with my hand that was reached out.

"I wanna know how much it all was," I answered honestly and he shook his head.

"You don't need to. You're not paying me back," he said with a smile as he handed me one of the large fries from the bag and placed the nuggets on the console in between us.

"Matthew. Give me the receipt," I deadpanned and he grabbed the receipt out of the bag. I was waiting for him to hand it to me but instead, he started ripping it into pieces making me groan, "You're an asshole."

"I'm an asshole because I'm paying for your food?" he asked, a smile still on his lips as I frowned at him while he began eating his food.

"You're an asshole for not letting me pay you back," I mumbled in response as I started picking at my fries.

"Have a nugget and you'll forget all about it," he shrugged, sliding the nuggets towards me slightly and I rolled my eyes, reluctantly grabbing one from the box, "When do you wanna go back?"

"Never," I instinctually answered and he just looked at me, waiting for a real response, "I don't know. I need to go back for my last two periods."

"We can go back at lunch?" he asked and I nodded in response before I turned up the volume on the radio that was still playing music from my phone. The song that was now playing was Hypnotize by Biggie and I lip-synced silently to the words as I slowly ate my food, "So you do listen to rap."

"I listen to everything," I shrugged and he hummed suspiciously making me look at him with a squint, "What?"

"Nothin'," he shrugged, an amused look on his face, "Just hear people say that a lot and they listen to the same three genres."

"Give me a genre and I'll name at least three artists I listen to," I challenged and he chuckled before turning to face me more.

"Pop," he looked at me intently.

"Lady Gaga, Billie Eilish, Beyonce," I answered easily and he nodded.

"Metal?"

"What kind of metal?" I asked, knowing he just group all heavier music together, "Nu metal would be Slipknot, Korn and Limp Bizkit. Death metal would be Cannibal Corpse, Morbid Angel and Blood Bath. Metal core would be Bring Me the Horizon, Parkway Drive and Trivium. Or heavy metal would be Black Sabbath, Pantera and Van Halen. Shall I go on?"

"Alright I got it," he chuckled before taking a sip of his drink as he thought again, "What about rap?"

"Tyler the Creator, Biggie and Trippie Red," I answered confidently and he nodded again.

"Jazz?" he asked and I snickered as he was struggling to think of more genres.

"Billie Holiday, Miles Davis and Nat King Cole," I had a cocky look on my face and he raised his eyebrows.

"Country," he stated, now looking as if he was trying to challenge me more.

"Kasey Musgraves, Zach Bryan and Shania Twain,"

"Grunge,"

"Soundgarden, Nirvana and Alice in Chains,"

"Reggae,"

"Bob Marley, Peter Tosh and Jimmy Cliff,"

"Rock,"

"Foo Fighters, that's a big one, Lenny Kravitz and Fleetwood Mac,"

"Okay, I got no more. You win," he held his hand up in surrender with an amused look on his face.

"I mean I could keep going but I'll let you think about it for a while," I answered, a small smile on my lips triumphantly. He just stared at me for a moment, unmoving as he studied my face, "What? Do I have something on my face?"

I wiped my hands around my mouth and he shook his head with a smile, "No. I've just never seen you smile before."

"Oh," I let my smile drop, feeling slightly insecure as he stared at me.

"You should do it more," he shrugged as he threw his trash in the empty bag, "You have a pretty smile."

"Alright, stop gassing me up. I just proved you wrong on so many levels," I answered, brushing off his compliment as I felt my cheeks heat up.

"Yeah, you're right. Don't wanna make your ego too big, rockstar," He answered with a chuckle and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

"Rockstar?" I questioned, finishing the rest of my fries before throwing the trash in the bag he had now placed in the back seat.

With a shrug, he replied, "You like music a lot. Just seems fitting."

"You come up with the weirdest names," I stated and he smirked at me cockily.

"Don't think I didn't notice what you called me earlier," he said making me frown further in confusion, "When I was coughing my fucking lungs up. You called me pretty boy."

"At least the names I call you make sense," I rolled my eyes, trying to brush over the fact I called him that.

"So you think I'm pretty?" he asked, the mischievous look written across his face.

"Now whose ego is big," I raised my eyebrows, a small smile falling onto my lips.

"You're the one who said it!" he threw his hands out in front of him dramatically making me chuckle.

"It's fitting because you're conventionally attractive and that's why so many people love you," I shrugged, a smile still on my lips, "And plus you're captain of the hockey team. That always gets you far in popularity."

"You don't seem to care about popularity though," he stated, a questioning tone behind his words and I nodded.

"Why do you think I never talk to anyone?" I asked rhetorically before I looked out the window, "Yet people still love to talk about me."

"I mean..." Matt trailed off making me look back at him to see he was still looking at me, "I never really intended to be popular. I kinda hate it honestly."

"What's there to hate about being the most loved person in the school?" I asked with a distasteful chuckle.

"I only talk to my friends but everyone still loves to talk about me," he echoed my statement from earlier and I bit my bottom lip while nodding, "It's not all bad. Just gets annoying sometimes."

"At least people say nice things about you," I mumbled making his eyebrows furrow as he looked at me, adjusting his hair in his hat.

"Not always," he retorted making me look at him as I took a sip of my drink, "Especially with Chris being my brother and the fucking idiot he can be. Just because he's with a new girl every week, doesn't mean I am."

"Not as bad as people saying I killed my neighbour's cat," I raised my eyebrows and he pursed his lips, nodding in agreement.

"I can't argue with that one," he smiled a little bit as I bit my lip again, "How many piercings do you have?"

His sudden question threw me off but I answered regardless, "Nine."

"Wow," he seemed surprised and I now noticed the fact he had his ears pierced, the shiny silver earrings dangling from his ears.

"I have my septum, eyebrow, 3 in each ear and then my tongue," I stuck my tongue out to show him the silver bar that was through my tongue and he once again raised his eyebrows.

"Do you have any tattoos?" he asked and I nodded. Instead of explaining, I slid my leather jacket off and my black hoodie. I showed him the black and white tattoos that scattered across my arms, all for various different meanings.

"I also have a couple on my legs but kinda hard to show you those right now," I shrugged and he grabbed my wrist, pulling my left arm towards him gently as he looked at the permanent art on my skin.

"What's this one?" he asked, pointing to one of the bigger tattoos I had on my tricep.

"It's the welcome home cake from Coraline," I explained as his fingertips dragged over the tattoo raising goosebumps on my skin, studying it like he was genuinely intrigued, "My mum and I used to watch it a lot when I was little. It's always been my favourite movie."

"That's cool," he smiled at me, letting go of my wrist and I slid my hoodie back on, the cold air nipping at my skin, "I wanna get more tattoos. Where do you get yours?"

"Uh, one of my dad's friends did them. He's not licensed though so I'd recommend going somewhere that's professional," I smiled tightly before I realised I'd never noticed his tattoos, "I didn't know you had any tattoos."

"My parents said I have to wait till I graduate to get ones that are visible like on my arms and legs and stuff. But I have these on my hips," he lifted up the hem of his hoodie, sliding the waistband of his jeans down slightly to reveal two lightning bolts on either side of his waist travelling along his v-line.

"Oh wow," I took in a breath, feeling my face heat up as he slid the waistband back up and fixed the hem of his hoodie.

"I also have these on my collarbones," he announced as he pulled down the neckline of the hoodie to reveal a trail of leaves on either side of his collarbones.

I smirked as I looked at them before looking up at his face, "Big on the symmetry I see."

He shrugged in response before grabbing his drink and finishing the last of it, "I don't know what to get next."

"You gonna get any more piercings?" I asked, genuine curiosity in my words and he shrugged, "You should get a lip piercing."

"I'd have to wait till the seasons over if I get any piercings because I'd have to take it out before I play," he explained and I shrugged in response.

"It's only another month right?" I asked and he nodded in response, "Come with me when I get my lip pierced when the season is over then."

"You think a lip piercing would look good on me?" he asked, pulling his visor down to look at himself in the mirror.

"Mhm," I hummed in response as I looked at him inspecting his own face in the mirror, "Wait. I have an idea."

I unclipped one of my tiny hoop earrings from my ear, making sure to clean it a bit with the sleeve of my hoodie, "Look at me."

He turned to face me and I grabbed his chin to turn his head to the right further. I grabbed the small ring in between my fingers as he just stared at me before I mumbled, "I can't put it on if you have your mouth closed."

He let his jaw open, leaving his mouth ajar as I slid the ring over his lip. I moved it around, realising it didn't sit properly since it wasn't positioned on the inside of his lip correctly. I used my left thumb to pull his bottom lip down slightly and he looked at me intently while I slid the ring further down his lip till it looked satisfactory.

"There!" I nodded and he looked back to the mirror, tilting his head side to side to see if he liked it, "Perfect."

"Why get a piercing when I can just put on a fake one?" he asked with a smirk and I noticed the ring flash in the light as he turned to face me.

"Because fake piercings are corny," I deadpanned and he ran his tongue over the ring.

"It feels weird," he said before looking back at himself in the mirror, "But it does look good."

"Told you," I smiled at him and he shook his head with a smile on his lips.

"Should I leave it on when we go back to school and freak everyone out?" he asked, a mischievous look on his face as I pursed my lips with a nod, thinking of the shock on people's faces when the Matthew Sturniolo would walk into school with a lip piercing, or at least a fake one.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo

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in-superbloom · 3 years

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okay so. i never really did a review (feels weird to call it a review tho so let's say a very opinionated essay that's totally the opposite of what college taught me) for wfttwtaf but i never really know how to do that for any album, doesn't matter how much it makes me feel feelings, bc i simply can't write about my own emotions in cohesive thoughts ✌🏻😔

so instead, i let my brain do this thing he usually does when i listen to an album that leaves an effect on me, which is pretty much just creating visuals for the songs bc apparently my feelings translate better into images/vibes rather than words lmao but since i am unfortunately not skilled to drawn/paint/created actual visual stuff, i just wrote them so i'm gonna leave them here bc why not <3

i just really love when music (art in general, but especially music for me) makes your mind run wild & be so inspired that you can't help but create something based on that feeling <3 a great example of that is the amount of art everyone here (on tumblr!sos verse, but also tumblr & the internet in general) create based on other peoples' art & i just *clenches fists* really love that 💜

anyways !! if you're reading this, i hope this makes sense to you & if you wanna chat about the album, my mail box is always open 💜

• track one: starting line – like the mv, but he's running like he's trying to get away from something, always looking behind his shoulder, stumbling on things/people on the streets. also maybe not flying?;

• track two: saigon – then he reaches a tiny but unique/eye-catching door, gets intrigued & enters. he has to go downstairs through a dark and narrow corridor, he hears muffled music coming down there. he reaches the door & the music is now clear, it looks like there are disco balls everywhere ((pink, blue and purple bc ofc)), the place is packed with people dancing & just vibing™. he goes to the dancefloor, but soon it gets overwhelming so he tries to reach a wall or the other end of the club, but he can't. the more he walks, the furthest he feels from the walls. everything has a psychedelic look, also some of those trippy effects he used on motion, and no one seems to notice/ care about him. this goes on until the end of the song, then he finally finds a door ((not the one he came from)) and opens it;

• track three: motion – he expects to find a street, but instead he's inside a room. it's a bit dark, all he sees are shadows, but then suddenly everything turns into an explosion of colors ((when the songs picks up in the beginning)), all dancing in front of him, making him feel lost & dizzy. he keeps walking, but every now and them he stumbles on something ((random things like animals or weird props or stuff that aren't supposed to be alive, but are)). he admires everything with a childlike wonder, touches things and then they turn into something else, or change form/shape/color. in the end, he's distracted looking at something and then falls like the floor reached an end;

• track four: place in me – he fell right there where he is in the mv/visualizer, it goes on like that;

• track five: baby blue – make it look like he fell asleep after the end of place in me, so he's very confused when he wakes up & it looks like the place is falling apart, like end of the world type ((like the lamentis thingy on loki)). things are exploding & he can see another planet very close to the one where he is. it's a bit scary but it's a breathtaking view nonetheless. he's mesmerized, but also kinda already accepted his fate? he's not trying to run to find a shelter/salvation or anything, just watching it all fall apart. at the end, he stops, turns around & looks at the path that he was walking ((full of nature things colored in every shade of blue and also glittery dust)) and he's just admiring it when he's hit by a big rock maybe? or a moon, who knows;

• track six: repeat – he's throw away to somewhere that's not collapsing, it looks like a pathway in the woods? but like, no florest too near, and it's sunny but not too warm, and the path is filled with green grass and flowers. he lands in a place that looks like a field but not quite. and then after walking for a while, he finds himself, but another version of him. maybe a younger one or an older one or both? like, they both just stop and stare at each other and kinda do this lil dance of trying to touch the other & watching the other, both a lil frightened but completely intrigued. maybe the older version of him? ooooh maybe it starts with an older version, but then every time present luke gets distracted by something else or turns around for a second, the other luke is getting younger, until he's just a lil kid. the ending is the mini luke offering his hand for present luke to grab, so he can lead him to a house that was near where they were. ((or maybe mini luke makes him run after him));

• track seven: mum – luke enters the house & immediately recognizes it as the house he grew up in. every step he takes, a wall or an object or a room brings a memory & it plays it out like a hologram. lots of memories. then in the guitar solo part, he finds a guitar in the room where he used to play the most when he was a kid ((maybe some cool&cute effects going around him, representing the sound coming from the guitar)). before the solo ends, you can see a shadow in the threshold of the door, and when he finished the guitar solo, luke turns around and smiles, getting up to hug the person ((it's his mum)) but maybe you never actually see her face?;

• track eight: slip away – he steps out of his childhood house and enters this big dark room. there's only a lil blue light coming from the very center of the room. when he gets closer to it, he sees it's a lil star, who looks very scared. as soon as she notices him ((he tries to reach her)) she runs out of the door on the other side of the room. he's worried&intrigued so he follows her, but when he opens the door, he immediately falls, this time he's in what looks like the clouds ((blue hues ofc but clearer ones, not as dark shades like the ones in place in me & baby blue)), and soon he finds out he can "swim" through them. he does that for a while until he sees the lil star and tries to follow her again. this goes on until he finally gets close to her, but when he touches her, she literally slips from his grasp bc he's being teleported again ((but make it look like she's the portal));

• track nine: diamonds – it starts with a close up on the water maybe? and then the camera keeps getting higher & suddenly he falls into it and soon the camera follows. he's distorted for a bit, especially when he notices he's already too deep into the water, away from the surface. then he tries to swim to the surface, but there's a bunch of things?? or like weird and mean seapeople maybe? trying to drag him down ((kinda like that scene on harry potter & the goblet of fire)). he tries his best to fight them, but what gets him away from them is a group of nice seapeople who came to his rescue. then they all swim away from the place they were ((also maybe slip in some diamonds or things that look like them around there?));

• track ten: a beautiful dream – he reaches a lil city? under water with the help of the nice seapeople & then there's this piano on the ground ((maybe covered in seaweed and stuff like that)) and he's immediately drawn to it. he plays/sings the song ((maybe like the guitar effects in mum, the sounds coming from the piano affect the place around him even tho it looks like he barely notices it)). when the song is finishing, he notices a white light coming from the surface. he looks at it & then follows it;

• track eleven: bloodline – then he's getting out of the water? at some beach perhaps? he's slowly getting out of the water & there's this beautiful sunrise behind him. he's singing along, looking like he just came out of a battle but at the same time he's in peace with himself, looking not exactly happy but relieved. he's walking on the beach, making his way home but he's not in a hurry. then in that lil bit in the end of the song, he gets out of the frame after looking straight to the camera maybe?? and the camera focuses on the sunrise and then everything goes black;

• track twelve: comedown – he wakes up in a bed ((like, this is him waking up from all these dreams)) & he's slightly confused bc the dreams felt so real, but he's feeling better & not so lost anymore. he goes out in a walk that maybe shows every place he was in his dreams? but like, this time you see what they really are bc every place in his dreams was inspired by a real location/thing, just reimagined. but like, he doesn't enter anywhere, he's just walking & you can see the places on both sides of the street. like, it's clearly a set up location but it's just representative. maybe you can see some of his friends/family at some of these locations or maybe they're all together in one place? but they don't look at him, they're just talking&laughing with each other. he looks happy, at ease & he's smiling, wearing a yellow or gold shirt. in the end, he reaches a cliffside maybe? somewhere that leads you to think that he'll go through another portal, but then he suddenly stops, looks down at the cliffside and crouches down bc he saw the lil blue star from slip away but it's now a necklace. he picks it up, with a small&easy smile and then looks at the camera, gives a bigger, real smile, gets up and turns around, going back to where his friends&family are, but the camera stays there, just watching him go.

// now some notes bc i love to over explain myself //

• the "water" one was supposed to be slip away, but alison @bandsanitizer was talking about a beautiful dream these days & said that something about the song reminds her of a sonar-like sound & the idea of searching for something, so that got me thinking about the ocean & relating it to this song and it also makes a lot of sense with what the album represents in my mind, so it made me change that. thank you for that miss alison, it's always a pleasure to read your thoughts 😌💜

• & it also fitted well with the “i can't fight the bloodline living in the seams back home” line from bloodline, so i wanted that one to be related to the water as well bc that's all i can think about when i hear that lyric;

• something in common that appears in every single one: an object or something related to time, since it's the big common theme on the whole album;

• in each song he's wearing the same outfit he wore in the starting line mv (white tee + black pants + converse) but in each one of them, that red shirt is in a different color;

• i had the visuals from starting line to mum very clear in my head on my first listen of the album, but i only truly finished writing all of this yesterday bc i wanna listen to halsey's new album and see if my brain does this thing again, but i wanted to finish wfttwtaf first <3

& that's it bc i already talked too much for a day lmao if you read all of this, you're a true hero & i love you <3 have a nice day 💛

#some trippy and weird thoughts brought to you by my weird brain <3 #with the incentive of the twinkling blue lights in my room that i was staring at when i first heard the album <3 #there's like. a lot of meaning behind these things if you really look into it #& i could probably rant about them but let's not do that bc i feel like this is way too much already #i've literally been formatting & fixing this for an hour now and this was supposed to be quick #so that's another lesson for me about how i truly can't shut my mouth about anything ✌🏻😌#but i enjoyed writing this so. yeah <3 #can you tell i'm a frustrated kid bc i love to create stuff like this & actually make something out of it #but i currently can't so i just write & daydream & cry </3 #*sighs as a sad girl living in a small & very non-artistic town*#lrh + wfttwtaf #anna talks music #wfttwtaf #anna talks luke

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daydreamtofiction · 2 years

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Sublime Dexterity II // BBC Sherlock

Part One | Masterlist | Requests are Open

Summary: It’s been weeks since the night Sherlock Holmes gave you your first impromptu violin lesson, and you haven’t stopped thinking about those hands since. Now, you’re fed up of waiting for him to walk through that door again, so you decide it’s time to pay your virtuoso a visit. (Sherlock x Reader)

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: Smut, mild bad language, masturbation (self, giving & receiving), oral sex (giving & receiving), unprotected sex, size kink(?), bottoming out, praise, overstimulation, readers must be 18+

A/N: I received so many requests for a part two of this fic that I just can’t accredit it to one specific request. So instead I’ve accumulated all the suggestions/asks I received and put them all into this piece in some way or another. I also incorporated another request I received for a smut piece where Sherlock was especially ‘well-endowed’. So to the anon that requested that one, this piece is for you too! Secondly, I just want to say I’m so unbelievably thankful for the amount of love and positive feedback part one of Sublime Dexterity received. I honestly appreciate every single like, reblog and reply so much. It truly keeps me going and makes me so excited to share more writing with you all. So thank you, and I hope you like part two just as much.

Three hundred and thirty six hours. That's how long it had been.

You worked it out on a calculator as you sat behind the counter at work, chin on fist, struggling to think of anything else besides the looming closing time; wondering - as you had done every day for the past two weeks - if today would be the day Sherlock Holmes walked back through that door.

At first, the aloofness of his quick exit had intrigued you, excited you; the way he left you standing there without so much as a goodbye, nothing except the memory of his touch between your soaking thighs. But now, you were just plain annoyed, so frustrated that you couldn't even concentrate as you served your last customer of the day.

"Is there a returns policy on these?" he asked.

"What?" you replied, your eyes flitting over his shoulder to the door every few moments.

"Like, can I try them out in my clarinet and if I don't like them I can bring them back?"

You stared at him blankly for a moment. "It's a pack of reeds..."

"Yeah, and?"

"And you have to wet them in order to try them... with your mouth..."

"So?"

"So no, obviously you can't return something that you've soaked in your own saliva."

Your tone was a little more harsh than you'd meant it to be, but the absence of your tall, dark stranger for yet another evening had stolen every ounce of patience you had left.

You rang the customer up and waved goodbye as he trudged out the shop, packet of reeds in hand. The bell above the door rang on his way out, making you sigh in disappointment; another day, another entirely underwhelming conclusion.

You locked up and tidied around before making your way into the stock room, shutting the door behind you and leaning back against the shelves with a long, frustrated exhale. Had he really walked out that night and not given you another thought since? Simply seized the moment to show what his hands were capable of; got off on the fact that he could please you in a way no other man had ever done?

Or had this been his plan all along? To give you a taste of him, just enough to make you crave more. To leave the memory of his touch on your skin, like a bruise that wouldn't fade.

You slipped your hand down the front of your trousers and began working your fingers over the place that longed for him, throwing your head back and closing your eyes with a sigh as you remembered his deep voice in your ear, his hard length pressed against your back. You rubbed circles over your clit, letting out a soft moan as you pushed firmly against the throbbing bud, like applying pressure to a wound, though it did little to quell the ache.

You were ashamed of how many times you'd touched yourself to the thought of him. In just two weeks, you'd lay in bed almost every night and came to the memory of his fingers plunged deep inside you, his palm pressed firm to your stomach. And now, as you stood there working yourself to your own climax inside the dingy, cluttered stock room, you were sure you'd reached a new low.

You let out a moan as your orgasm rippled through you, though it paled in comparison to him, leaving you feeling flat and irritated, like a firework that failed to fully explode. You redid the button on your trousers with an annoyed huff, wondering why the hell he had to go and show you the full heights of pleasure your body was capable of. Because now, even you - who knew your body better than anyone - couldn't seem to satiate its needs.

You couldn't keep doing this, you thought as you threw on your coat and hooked your bag over your shoulder. Couldn't keep fawning over a man you barely knew, a stranger. It was a chance encounter that should remain nothing more than a memory - a wild story no one would believe even if you told them.

But even as you repeated the words in your head, there was a part of you that still didn't believe them. You wanted more. And if he wasn't willing to give you more, you needed to know why.

You punched in the code on the alarm system and stepped out into the cold London evening, burying your mouth and nose into your scarf and turning the key in the shutter. You stood waiting for it to slowly descend, glancing down the street in the direction of your flat, before turning and looking the other way; the way that would take you towards Baker Street.

"You can't," you whispered to yourself, pausing for a moment in thought. "Can you...?"

The shutter clattered against the pavement, stealing you back to reality. You crouched down and locked it in place, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before taking off quickly down the street, refusing to look back, scared you'd change your mind.

When you arrived outside, you hovered for what felt like an eternity; climbing the steps before quickly hurrying back down, checking the address several times online to make sure you were definitely in the right place.

"For gods sake, just do it," you said sternly, forcing yourself up the steps and lifting the crooked knocker on the door.

An older woman answered the door with a kind smile, directing you upstairs without even asking your name, making you wonder just how many people came by with cases for him to solve; how many people in London had a mystery, a secret of their own.

You thanked her and climbed the stairs slowly, your heart beating heavier with every step. But as you reached the top and turned on the landing, you stopped suddenly at the sight of another man standing in the doorway of the flat. He was shorter than Sherlock, smartly dressed with greying hair combed neatly to one side.

He looked at you, then down at his watch. "It's a bit late, isn't it?"

You blinked a few times before shaking your head. "I'm sorry?"

"Is it an appointment?"

"Er, n-"

"You know, I've told him to stop making appointments for after 6pm." He walked back into the living room as he continued to speak. "I mean, I know it's not exactly a conventional job, but come on, just some semblance of normal work hours. Would that be too much to ask?" He turned around to see you still standing halfway down the landing. "Come on, you're here now, might as well sit down."

You hurried to the doorway and watched him gesture to a chair in the middle of the room, two armchairs either side of it.

"You must be John Watson," you said, walking over and sitting down. "I've read your blog, it's brilliant."

"Oh, well thank you very much."

"But I'm not here for-"

"Look, I apologise if I sound a bit snippy," he said, unintentionally cutting you off again.

"It's fine, really. I'm-"

"I'm just..." he huffed. "I was supposed to be going on a date. But now that he's arranged to meet with a client, I'm going to have to cancel, despite me reminding him about twenty times that I had other plans tonight."

"You can still go. Please go, I'm not-" You stopped speaking again. But this time, it wasn't because of John.

You sensed his presence behind you immediately, like a storm cloud after an unrelenting heatwave; dark, moody, but so unbelievably welcome. You watched John's eyes flit up to him, mouth pressed into a straight line, like he was ready to unleash hell.

"Could've told me," he said.

"Told you what?" Sherlock replied.

There was that voice again, as low and rich as you remembered. You glanced over your shoulder, taking slight pleasure in watching his face change when he saw you; his brows coming together over his eyes, jaw slackening, lips parted in shock.

"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly.

John sat up straighter. "Wait, you didn't know she was coming?"

"Why would I know she was coming?"

"Because... You... Because-" he looked at you. "You're not a client?"

"No, sorry," you said with a slight laugh. "I did try to tell you."

"Right. Well then... Who are you?"

Sherlock stepped forward quickly. "She's-"

"I'm his student," you said.

John's eyes narrowed. "Student?"

"Well, I'm hoping to be," you said, glancing up at Sherlock. "Mr Holmes gave me a very masterful violin lesson recently. I just came by to see if he'd be interested in... doing it again."

His eyes were burning into you, like the truth behind your words had lit a fire inside him. He walked around you to the black leather armchair on your right and sat down, crossing one leg over the other, his gaze never leaving you.

John stood up, gesturing towards the door. "So I can go then?"

"I'm not your keeper, John. Yes, of course you can go," Sherlock replied. "Wouldn't want to keep you from another night of riveting conversation."

He spun around and pointed at him angrily. "For the last time, Lisa is not boring."

"Sure." He gave a sarcastic smile.

John huffed, grabbing his jacket and walking out without another word.

You waited a moment, listening to his footsteps as they faded down the stairs, the sound of the front door opening and closing, until finally, there was silence. You turned to see Sherlock still looking at you, head slightly stooped, hands gripping the arms of his chair.

"This is quite stalkerish of you," he said, half-joking.

You shrugged, letting out a gentle sigh. "I suppose I got tired of waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to come back to the shop."

He paused for a moment, glancing up at the ceiling, as if pondering something at the back of his mind. "I don't believe I said I would come back..."

"You always come back," you whispered.

He looked over at you, a fleck of sympathy in his eyes, before clearing his throat. "Yes, well, I just haven't needed anything."

"I thought you said you liked to browse?"

He suppressed a smile, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "I've found myself rather busy lately, haven't had the time."

"Taking clients after 6pm?" you asked with a smirk. "Yeah, Doctor Watson doesn't seem best pleased about it."

He chuckled softly to himself. "I thought it was the easiest way to stop myself."

"Stop yourself?"

"From coming back..."

"Oh." You shifted awkwardly in your seat. "Well I apologise for turning up like this then."

"No, you misunderstand me." He shook his head. "You see, I have a rather... addictive personality. So I had to keep myself busy." He paused. "Otherwise I have no doubt I would have been at that shop door every single night."

Your breath hitched. "Oh..."

You could feel your frustration dissipating, making way for relief, flattery; you could almost picture him watching the clock each day, counting down the hours until your closing time, his need for you burning like an addict craving his next fix.

"So, you want another violin lesson..." he said, fingers steepled to his mouth. Those fingers, the ones that had rubbed and stroked and curled so expertly, now pressed delicately to his lips, like a taunt.

You squeezed your thighs together, steadying your breath. "Is that something you'd be interested in?"

He shrugged. "From what I recall you were a rather fast learner. Shouldn't be too hard to teach you a few more things."

His words were dripping with their true meaning. To anyone listening in, it would have sounded innocent, perhaps even formal. But to you, it was agonising.

"Maybe I could teach you some things too," you said.

He tiled his head, glaring at you hungrily. "I'm a notoriously terrible student."

"Oh really?"

"Mm. I have a hard time... relinquishing control."

"That doesn't surprise me."

You stood up, taking off your coat and scarf and draping them over the back of your chair. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked across the room, taking his violin off the stand near the window and running your hand over it slowly.

"Come on then," you said. "Or did I come all this way for nothing?"

He dropped his head to hide a smirk before rising from his armchair, straightening out the cuffs of his shirt and running a hand through his hair. You waited with bated breath as he made his way over, the familiar scent of his cologne drifting towards you, igniting memories of his arms wrapping around you, his chest pressed against your back.

You stared up at him as he closed the distance between you, your heart pounding in anticipation, mind reeling with thoughts of what he was going to do; bring the instrument to your chin again, demand you play as he ran his hands down your body, teasing you, pushing you to the limits of desperation.

But no. Instead he reached out and gently took the violin out of your grasp, placing it back down before returning a hand to your face. You felt his fingers delicately turning your jaw up towards him, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip as his eyes assessed you carefully.

You felt a deep yearning in your core as his lips met yours. Gently at first, but quickly transforming into something more ardent. It was strange to think that this was your first kiss - his fingers had been inside you, he'd heard your moans, felt you come undone in his arms, yet somehow this felt like the most intimate thing you'd ever done.

You moaned as he parted your lips with his tongue, his hands weaving into your hair and tugging on it gently, tilting your head back, proving his desire for control. But you didn't care, in fact, you enjoyed it. You'd wasted so much time sleeping with men who seemed to stumble and wander aimlessly over the planes of your body. It was glorious to finally have someone take charge, to show you exactly what you wanted instead of staggering around in search of it.

"I fear I'm a terrible teacher too," he muttered against your lips.

"Why's that?" you replied.

"Because somehow, my hands always end up on you instead of the instrument."

You drew in a long breath and gazed up at him through heavy lashes. "Mr Holmes," you whispered, exhaling slowly. "I couldn't care less about learning the violin."

His breath quivered slightly, his jaw clenching as he tried to remain composed. "I thought that's why you came..."

The corner of your mouth lifted in amusement. You couldn't help but smile at his feigned naivety; the ease with which he pretended to have no idea what your true intentions were. But he knew. You both knew. That's why the violin was on the floor and not in your hands, why his fingers were still tangled in your hair, why you could still taste his kiss on your tongue.

"I came," you replied slowly. "Because last time, the lesson was more of a... demonstration. I wanted to try a more interactive approach, to have an opportunity to be more... hands-on."

There was a musing hum deep in the back of his throat. "I apologise if you were not satisfied with my teaching methods-"

"Oh I think it's obvious I was very satisfied." Your eyes trailed down his body. "Which is why I want more."

He looked down at you, brows heavy over his eyes, making his gaze seem darker, more intense. "You know, I don't even know your name..."

You shrugged softly. "You're Sherlock Holmes. I'm sure you can figure it out all on your own."

He breathed out a laugh, like you excited him, intrigued him, like he realised in that moment you were more than just 'the woman from the music shop', more than just an instrument he could make sing with his skilled hands.

His fists tightened in your hair as he pulled you into another kiss, backing you up to the table near the window and sitting you amongst the piles of books and papers. You fumbled for the button of your trousers, popping them open hastily and parting your thighs as his hand immediately slipped down beneath the fabric. He groaned against your lips as he drenched his fingers in your wet, hot desire, like he'd thought of nothing else but this moment for the past two weeks.

You arched your back, pushing your hips forward into his touch and clutching at the sleeves of his shirt, desperate for more friction, for the magic you knew those hands were capable of. But a glimpse of the open door from the corner of your eye made you stop.

"Do you have somewhere we can go?" you whispered breathlessly.

"Hm?"

"Somewhere we're less likely to be... walked in on?"

"No one will walk in on us," he said, planting a hand on the table as he leaned further into you.

You let out a moan as he rubbed circles over your clit, forcing yourself to speak through the pleasure. "The woman downstairs let me walk up here without even asking who I was. Someone could definitely walk in."

He pulled back and looked at you for a moment, then to the door, then back to you. "Fine, come with me."

You followed him through the kitchen and down a small hallway to his bedroom. He stepped aside, allowing you to walk in first. It was everything you thought it would be; dark, minimal, tucked away in a quiet corner of the flat. You wondered how many people, if any, he had brought back there; if the sight of a woman in his room was as alien to him as it felt for you to be there. Or if he often found himself between the sheets with other people, making them moan and gasp and writhe in pleasure.

You felt his body against your back, his hands snaking around your waist and pulling you close to him. You placed your hands over his, letting your head fall back as he kissed your neck, tracing his lips up your jaw.

"I know you said you don't like to relinquish control," you whispered, turning around to face him. "But I'm going to need you to actually let me touch you this time."

He let out a deep, wanton exhale as you brought your hand down to his crotch, gripping the outline of his hard length through the fabric of his trousers.

"After all," you said as you unbuttoned them quickly. "You've heard my moans." You lowered yourself to your knees. "I think it's only fair I get to hear yours."

He remained still as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and pulled them down along with his underwear, a soft sigh of relief escaping his parted lips as his cock sprung free from their confines. You bit your lip at the sight of it; long, thick and firm as it hung heavily from his body, sending a jolt of electricity to your core as you imagined the feeling of it inside you, the fullness, the depth it could reach.

"That's going to break me in half," you whispered, half-joking.

"You'll manage," he replied, his voice dark and authoritative, making you throb with desire.

You wrapped your fingers around his length and took a deep breath as you leaned in, flattening your tongue and dragging it up the underside from base to tip. He blew out a slow, controlled exhale, bringing his hand down to your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as he watched you part your lips and take him into your mouth.

He sucked the air in through his teeth and let out a deep groan as you began to move back and forth, your hand and your mouth sliding together, soaking him, leaving no inch of him untouched. You glanced up to see his head had fallen back, eyes closed as he continued to moan and sigh, giving in to your desire to hear his pleasure, the sound just as gratifying as you'd expected. He brought a hand to the back of your head, gently encouraging you to take him further, and you couldn't help but yield, sinking forward until you could no longer breathe.

A groan spilled out of him like honey, so rich and thick and decadent, pouring into your ears and travelling straight to your core where it dripped from you, creating a wet, hot pool between your thighs.

"Perfect technique," he whispered, struggling to stay composed by choosing his words carefully, like he was trying to hold onto whatever remnants he had left of the ruse you had both created - of this being a lesson.

You glanced up at him, holding back a gag as his length kissed the back of your throat.

"You shorten it," he muttered.

You pulled back, releasing him from your mouth, a thick rope of saliva connecting your bottom lip to the head of his cock. "What?" you replied breathlessly.

"Your name," he said, drawing his thumb across your mouth to wipe it away.

"You can't possibly think you can deduce someone's name from... this."

"Am I wrong?"

You didn't answer, instead you wrapped both hands around his slick shaft and began working it at a firm, steady pace, watching him buckle slightly, his breath hitching. You returned your mouth to him, but it only took a moment for him to pull his hips back out of your grasp.

"Tell me, am I wrong," he repeated.

"I'm not telling you anything," you said, almost annoyed that he'd interrupted you. "So I suppose you'll just have to keep working on it."

He observed you for a moment, bringing his hand back to your face, his fingers caressing your cheek and settling under your chin to tip your head up to look at him. You waited silently, on your knees at his feet like an obedient disciple gazing up at your master. He brought the same thumb he'd used to wipe away the saliva back to your mouth, grazing over your lips before pushing through them. You sucked on it softly, the ache between your legs intensifying as you remembered fantasising about this moment while watching him from behind the counter, remembered what had just been there instead of his thumb.

He slid it back out of your mouth slowly, letting his hand fall to your throat, fingers wrapping around it with a gentle squeeze. You felt him pulling you up, a silent instruction for you stand, and you obliged, stumbling to your feet as he kept his grasp.

You swallowed hard, knowing he could feel it in his palm, your pulse in his fingertips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, releasing your throat and letting his hands fall to the hem of your jumper. He pulled it over your head quickly, throwing it to the ground as he continued to kiss you. You followed his lead, your fingers reaching for the buttons of his shirt and popping them open, one by one, as he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of the trousers and underwear that had pooled around his ankles. You slid the shirt down his arms and threw it aside, smoothing your palms over his bare chest, dragging your nails down over his ribs, his stomach.

You only realised he'd been backing you up towards the bed when you felt the mattress against the back of your legs. You fell back, breathing heavily, your skin pricking with goosebumps as he curled his fingers into the waistband of your trousers and dragged them down.

"If I remember correctly," he said. "Last time, you were quite a fan of my hands."

You let out an audible moan, the sheer memory of his touch making your stomach flutter, your nipples harden beneath your bra.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, stooping his head to lay kisses along your inner thighs.

You shivered, certain you could feel your heartbeat in your clit as it throbbed in anticipation.

"Touching you was... exquisite," he said, his lips moving closer towards your centre. "But I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wished I'd gotten to taste you too."

Another sound escaped you, a cross between a whimper and a moan, like his voice was enough to get you off alone, like you could come just from him speaking in your ear.

You lifted your hips, practically begging him to take off your underwear. But instead, he simply moved it to one side, like he was too impatient, too hungry to waste time sliding them down your legs. He ran two long fingers up and down between your folds, letting out a heavy breath, almost like a growl, when he felt how wet you were. So ready, so desperate for him. He circled them gently over your clit, his eyes flitting to you to watch your reaction; how you threw your head back and writhed in pleasure, every nerve inside that tiny bud igniting beneath his fingertips.

You gasped as he buried his face between your thighs, listening as he hummed in approval, dragging his tongue over your slit, lapping and sucking like he was revelling in finally getting to taste you, just like he'd wanted.

You closed your eyes as a string of moans began to pour from your open mouth; the feeling of him devouring you so exquisitely making your toes curl. You reached down either side of you, clutching fistfuls of duvet in your hands as your back arched off the bed, his name falling off your tongue between heavy breaths and soft desperate cries.

He left no inch of you untasted, your entrance so wet with slick and spit that you could feel it dripping from you as he pulled away, the cold air tingling against your hot, wet entrance.

The loss of warmth and friction made you whimper, lifting your head to search for him like you were scared he'd disappeared. But he hadn't disappeared. He was there, looking up at you with a slightly furrowed brow.

"You've already had an orgasm today..." he observed bluntly.

"What?" you replied breathlessly.

"Today. You've already came once today."

Your eyes widened, stunned by his deduction, unsure you even wanted to know how he'd come to that conclusion.

"Oh, yeah I... well, I-" You struggled to speak, pausing as you tried to think of something to say. But after a moment of stammering, you simply sighed. "Do you want me to be honest?"

He waited.

"I... I did it before I came here," you admitted quietly, almost embarrassed. "Got myself off... while thinking about you."

"Hm." He pondered for a moment before rising to his feet and taking a step back. "Show me."

You stared at him.

"Show me what you did," he repeated, walking away and taking a seat in a chair opposite the bed facing you.

As you lay there, legs still parted, face still flushed, you weren't sure you'd ever felt more exposed. But there was something about him that made you so willing, so compliant; he could have told you to dance and you would have got up and done it.

You reached down, your fingers slipping through the soaking mess between your thighs and pressing to your clit. You lay back and closed your eyes, rubbing circles over it, your hips rocking against the soft mattress.

"Tell me what you were thinking about," he said.

"Your hands," you whimpered as you pressed harder, sending jolts of electricity through your body. "Your fingers inside me. The feeling of you... hard... pressing against my back."

You glanced down between your legs to see him sitting opposite you in the chair, palming his hard cock as he watched you masturbate. The sight was too delicious to bear, making you throw your head back with a cry and shut your eyes again.

You quickened your pace, pulling a quick, unexpected orgasm from the depths of your core, shuddering as it burst through you, leaving you shaking, whimpering as you lay there alone.

You felt the weight of the bed shift, looking down to see him crawling up between your legs, feathering kisses as he went along your thighs, your stomach, your breasts, your neck, until he finally reached your face, leaning down to press his lips against yours. You felt his cock rub against your clit, so tender you let out a soft hiss.

"Sensitive?" He whispered.

"Mhm" you mewled, shivering as his cock caught your clit again.

"Maybe we should stop there," he said, thrusting lazily against you. "Pick back up next time..."

"So you can disappear for another two weeks?" you replied quietly - defiantly.

He fell silent, regarding you for a moment, his eyes darting over your face. "It runs in the family."

"What?"

"Your name."

You huffed in disbelief, rolling your eyes and grabbing his face in your hands. "I'm not waiting again, Sherlock."

His brow twitched, like he was suppressing his amusement; your desperation to have him inside you turning him on.

"Okay," he said simply.

He rose to his knees, allowing you a full view of his naked frame, the large member you could barely fit in your mouth now hanging inches away from your soaking entrance. Then the memory hit you, your own voice echoing in your mind from earlier: you're going to break me in half.

He gripped your thighs in his large hands and pushed them open. "Part them for me," he said. "Wider."

You did as you were told until you were splayed out before him, completely open, waiting with shallow breaths for him to enter you. He shifted forward, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing the head through your folds, drenching himself in the cocktail of slick and saliva between them.

"Jesus," you breathed, looking up at him and shaking your head. "There's no way..."

He lowered his tone, eyes fixed on you. "Trust me, you can take it."

Your voice caught in your throat. That was possibly the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to you; it made you want to take it, all of it, to let him use you completely.

He pushed the head of his cock into your entrance, making you gasp and reach up to grip his shoulders.

He remained still. "You tell me when you want more."

You steadied your breath, whispering softly. "More."

He gave a gentle thrust, pushing further into you. You felt your walls stretching, a deep, intense pressure.

"More," you repeated.

He obliged, sinking deeper, having to force his hips against the resistance of your body.

You were holding your breath, your nails digging into his shoulders. "More."

He shifted his knees slightly before sinking himself into you, burying his cock to the hilt with a deep, heavy groan.

You cried out, your mouth falling open, eyes clamping shut. You never thought it was possible to feel so full, your body so completely invaded in the most welcomed way. Your thighs began to clench around his waist but he pushed them apart gently.

"It's better to keep them wide," he said, looking down to admire the sight of his entire length completely sheathed inside you. "See," he said with another groan. "I knew you could take it."

Your stomach fluttered, his words only adding to your hot, yearning desire, making you roll your hips instinctively, letting out a loud gasp as you felt the head of his cock stroke your cervix.

"Careful," he said.

"I don't want to be careful," you whined, bringing your hands around his waist, palms splaying out over his back. "I want to still be able to feel you tomorrow."

You watched him falter, his head dropping to hide a shaking breath, a growl rumbling in his throat.

"You think I can take it," you continued. "Make me take it."

You'd said earlier that he was going to break you in half, but if you didn't know any better, you'd swear you had broken him. He could barely look at you, the desire to do as you'd asked so strong you could practically feel him forcing his hips to remain still.

He inhaled deeply, lowering himself until his chest was pressed against yours, elbows resting either side of your head. "Tell me your name."

You smiled, tilting your head back and kissing him just once. "Fuck me... and I'll think about it."

You could have sworn you saw him roll his eyes, and though you may not have known him for long, you knew it was definitely something he would do. He made it clear he liked to be in control, yet there you were, lying beneath him, denying him your name and ordering him to fuck you. It had clearly touched a nerve.

He drew his hips back, looking into your eyes with a stony resolve, before snapping them forward again, so hard it made your body shift beneath him. You gave a feeble hum, the only sound you could muster amid the shockwave rippling through your abdomen. He brought a hand down to grip your waist, holding you firmly in place as he gave another powerful rut, his cock kissing your cervix again, sending you floating between the realms of pleasure and pain.

You hadn't even realised you'd brought your thighs together again until he knelt up and pushed them apart, allowing him full access to sink right down to the root of his manhood with every pounding thrust, groaning and grunting as your walls gripped him, tightening around him like your body didn't want to let him go.

You winced, and he noticed immediately, slowing his pace and softening his force.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked breathlessly.

You shook your head, snaking your hands around his back and pulling him down to you. "No, no you're not hurting me. It's just... ah." You gasped. "You're so..."

"I know," he whispered, like he was soothing you, coddling you. "I know, darling."

You almost melted beneath him - the confidence, the unexpected 'darling', the gentle tone with which he reassured you. You never knew someone cosseting you could turn you on so much, and you weren't sure you'd ever tire of hearing that rich, strong voice babying you as he drove his cock deep into your aching centre.

"Do I feel good?" you asked, desperate to hear more.

"Perfect."

There was something about the way he praised you that took you back to the night in the shop; how he had touched you, teased you, gained so much pleasure from making you buckle in his hands. You wondered why he'd chosen you. Why of all the people in London, in the world, he'd found himself so drawn to the woman behind the counter in the music shop. Why when you'd turned up unannounced at his home, he didn't turn you away, but instead welcomed you in, worshipped your body like a gift that had been hand delivered to his door.

"Do you think you can give me one more?" he asked.

"One more?"

"Orgasm."

A shiver ran up your body and escaped your mouth in a quiet breath. You'd never been a multiple kind of person, and your second climax of the day was still ringing through you like a bell whenever his length brushed against your clit. But stranger things had happened, you thought; you'd never squirted before either, until Sherlock got his hands on you.

You nodded, feeling his arms wrap around you and lift you from the bed, rolling you over until you were straddling him, his cock still buried inside you. He was sat up, your arms draped over his shoulders as he reached around to unhook your bra, peeling it from your body and immediately laying kisses along your bare chest.

"Lean back," he said. "Just a touch."

You did as instructed, leaning against his palms which were spread over your back, holding you in place.

"That's it," he said softly. "How does that feel?"

You began to rock gently, your bodies at the perfect angle for his hard length to make contact with your G-Spot on every gyration of your hips, creating a friction that made you burn with pleasure, like a match being struck, setting you alight from the inside out.

"Good," you said with a deep, satisfied groan. "So good."

He ran his hands down your back, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips to direct your pace, pulling you harder against him, like he was chasing you to his own completion. Your stomach began to coil, your breathing so shallow you could barely see straight, losing yourself in the feeling of his penetration, his hands clutching your body.

You reached down and wrapped your fingers around his wrists, bringing his hands up to your chest, your neck, like a silent instruction for him to grip your throat again. He obliged, caressing the soft skin of your neck, fingertips dancing over your pulse before squeezing softly.

“I love these hands,” you whimpered.

“I know you do,” he replied with a breathy moan.

“I want these hands on me forever.”

He dropped his head, curls falling over closed eyes as his composure wavered, a string of groans and incoherent words falling from his parted lips.

The familiar rush began to build. But unlike the orgasms you’d given yourself - the shivery, electric energy that burst from your clit and rippled along every nerve ending - this one was heavy, guttural, a ball of fiery, intense pleasure deep in your core.

You didn’t know how, but Sherlock could tell you were close. He brought his lips up to yours, enveloping you in a desperate open-mouthed kiss, like he was close too, but he needed you to come first. He began to meet your rhythm, thrusting into you with every buck of your hips, coaxing your climax to the surface until it finally spilled out and overwhelmed you completely.

You cried out, letting your body fall forward; chest pressed against chest, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“That’s it,” he whispered as he held you. “Come for me.”

You were shaking, moaning against his skin, so spent you could barely feel your own limbs. He let out a soft grunt, tightening his grip on you as he gave one last deep thrust, plunging his cock as far as your body would allow and releasing himself inside you.

You’d never felt like this before; so overstimulated you could almost cry. You lifted your head, letting him cup your face in his hands and look at you. He was panting, beautiful features glistening with beads of sweat, thumb stroking your cheek to calm you down. You leaned in, kissing him gently, so thankful you hadn’t just turned around and walked home that evening.

He broke away, resting his forehead against yours before muttering a single word, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, taking a moment for it to register in your mind.

But when it did, you gasped softly, realising that he had just whispered your name.

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kazuhasbunny · 3 years

Note

*slides in a $10 bill for the food* I'd like a sadistic childe punishing his sub with organism denial after they were being a brat and instead, having them please him instead until his sub grows extremely needy and begs to be fucked relentlessly. By the way, this can be a full fic or a drabble, your choice, love ❤ /p /pos !! (p.s I adore your work)

— hope you learnt your lesson .

pairings : tartaglia/childe x fem!reader

warnings : light bondage (hands tied up) , orgasm denial , overstimulation , spanking , light choking , facefucking , degradation , name calling , praising kink , breeding . lmk if i missed out anything !

so true anon !! getting punished by childe for being a whiny brat .. ok i'll do more then LOL also tysm anon ! love u dearly <3

— undercut nsfw !

"bad bad little girl .. you've been awfully naughty today.."

his voice rings in your ears , your hands were tied up to the bedpost , legs spread wide open for him to fully take in your view , his fingers drenched in your juices as it slowly slides in and out of you , the desire building up needing more of him but this was merely just a punishment .

"i-i'm sorry chi-sir .. i-i didn't mean too i s-swear it's just-"

SMACK! a hard slap on your thigh , making you whimper and shut your eyes over the stinging yet pleasurable pain . your mind was clouded with the feel of his fingers in you , it felt so good .

you were so close . so damn close to that sweet release of yours until he brought his fingers out and smacks your drenched cunt with said hand . all you could let out was a pathetic whimper as the man above you laughs at your invulnerable state , oh how adorable you look all tied up , fully submitted to him

"bad girls don't get to come . they don't even deserve the slightest of release , you get that?" you couldn't bring yourself up to look at him in the eyes , but he can't just leave you like this- what did you even do to unleash this monster infront of you ?? "sir.. p-please let me cum .. i-i'm so sorry i swear i'll be a good--"

SMACK! and another one from him . you should really learn how to keep that pretty mouth shut before he does that for you . which is what he's intending to do right now . hard cock , long and veiny , dripping with precum infront of your face . an unamused face plastered on him as he unties the cloth on your wrists setting it free and a sudden thrust into your mouth makes you choke on him

"ah ah , be a good one and take all of me in you" a rough grip on your hair , tilting your head to stare up at his beautiful features as a smirk settles on his face "and i might even just let you go this time by letting you cum on this fat cock of mine . you'd want that , don't you ?" you could only give him a nod , face so puffed up and red from all the crying , truly a sight to behold

his hips start moving slowly , making sure to let your mouth relax from the sudden intrusion . teary eyes shut itself as tears run down your face , a sadistic look on childe's face as he grips your hair harder , his other hand on your neck , a light and gentle grip on it feeling the outline of his cock everytime he thrusts into you

"such a fucking slut . my slut . so good for me"

his pace starts to increase , fast and merciless making you choke on air everytime , a pleasurable sound for him . deep growls came out from the man above you , drenching yourself more than ever . sometimes you think that you could even cum even from his voice itself .

his thrusts went on until the he was about to cum , quickly pulling himself of you with a loud pop leaving your mouth , a trail of saliva connected to the tip . he lets out a low laugh and carress your tear stained cheek

"my my .. you've been such a good girl today~ i think you deserve your reward now ? hm?~" he swear he saw stars shining in your eyes , looking up to him nodding furiously so eager to please him and to be relished with the sweet feeling of release . reminded him of a cute little puppy with a treat dangling off it's owner's hand , quite similar to your situation but for your orgasm instead

"aw how adorable you are~ get down on all your fours now girlie , master's gonna give you the best release of a lifetime~" you obeyed him like the obedient little puppy you are , a wide smile on your face so excited to get filled up properly-- not only that , he's gonna let you cum ! once you're on all fours you purposely raise your ass higher , shaking it too impatient and just wanna get this over with

"hey now , good girls stay still . you're a good girl aren't you?"

you stayed still not wanting to make him mad again . his hands gripped on your cheeks , spreading them apart watching your cunt clench on literally nothing , humiliation spread onto your whole body and he laughs at this making you whine and push yourself onto him which results with a harsh spank "keep this up and i'll fucking take back your need to cum bitch . so stay down or you're not getting anything"

his tone changed so fast .. it made you scared so you just fully listened to him this time . you never really intended to make him angry but when he does , you're in for a whole ride . your thoughts wandered of for a minute till you feel your walls stretch around him , so tight around him emitting a groan from him

"hmm .. already prepped you so well just now yet you're still so tight ? i trained you so well~" a harsh thrust made you wail into the pillow , gripping tight onto it "s-so good. .. c-childee~ m-m--oore!~ p-please sir.." he hugs you from behind arms wrapped around your tummy , eyes lidded with lust as he goes down and whispers

"i love you so much .. are you gonna cum on me, hm ? my little pet wants to cum so bad doesn't she~"

a jolt of pleasure waves through you when he rubs his fingers over your clit , so fast- it was too much-- your knees buckled underneath him falling limp into the bed as you came around him hard , clenching his cock tears spilling out from you crying into the pillow now a babbling mess yet he still fucks into you , overstimulating your whole body

"nn-ngah! n-no more-- childe please ! t-too mu-ahn-m-much!~ c-can't mnn n-no~" a sudden bite on your neck , laughs rumbling through his chest vibrating your back . his face buried in your neck coming up to your ear "didn't you say you wanted this ? aw.. little girl can't take too much cock in her? too bad .. because this pussy of mine is for me to use however i want"

sharp thrusts , fast pace . you can't handle it as you came onto his cock again , clenching onto him "hah~ another one ? you're so sensitive" his fingers rub onto your clit again , your screams were muffled- he was being too much you can't help but squirm and thrash underneath him, wanting him to get off of you .

displeased by your actions , he flips you over onto your back , legs hoisted up to your chest fucking into you hard in a mating press position . his cock hits you way deeper like this , smirk so wide on his face eyes , sweat dripping from his face . all you could do was hold onto his arm , gripping it tightly . so helpless underneath him . poor you , all you asked for is a single orgasm but you ended up getting more than what you hoped for

"there there , don't cry .. shh .. gonna make sure to fill you up so good .. my puppy did so well for me ! yes she did~ gonna treat her well with my cum nghh~" his breathing ragged , few more hard thrusts and his hips stilled into you , filling you up to the brim . the sensation of being filled up so much made you cum around him again , fully limp against the bed . your eyelids were heavy , slowly into unconsciousness

"asleep already ? hm.. too bad .. well.." he took a spare cloth and drenched it in water , cleaning you up making sure to clean every part of you if he can . childe will surely make it up to you in the morning , begging you to forgive him for being too rough making him laugh at the image in his head . once he's done cleaning you up he settles down beside you , eyes locked onto your sleeping ones a soft smile on his face , his eyes faltering away drifting to deep slumber with you .

#eli.posts #eli.answers #eli.sins #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin imagines #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #sub!reader

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umiarumi · 3 years

Text

fucking three houses | lorenz hellman gloucester

the whole reason i wrote this collection was because of an inside joke. "wouldnt slut shaming lorenz be funny?"

The resounding tune of the clock striking noon echoed around the monastery, prompting you to perk up from your studies. Usually, you studied in solitude. As outgoing as your allies made you, you always held onto that ease and pleasure being alone supplied you. With how lust-induced your recent activities had been, a little peace and quiet would do you some well-deserved good.

You shut the book regarding tactics your professor had recommended you. The soft shuffles of former students leaving the library and hushed chatter reverberated around the room and halls. Of course, you were at war but there's always time to get better at what you do. You chuckled at the thought of some grizzled lady wielding a sword studying. Well, that is you after all!

Sliding the book back in its respective shelf, you hummed as you remembered Tomas. From what you gathered, the Tomas that the faculty knew was replaced. Unfortunate, but unsurprising knowing the enemies working behind the scenes.

You shifted your thoughts to your upcoming mission. Some scouting mission from the empire detected commotion in Garreg Mach. You huffed at the thought. Of course, you'd expect Edelgard to retaliate but damn, that was quick.

You shook your head, well, it was tea time! Noon meant the yard would be filled with people gossiping and sipping alike, the hobby so ingrained in them that they retained it through the war.

You walked past Seteth, nodding to him. He nodded back, cracking a soft smile. You'd rarely see that emotion! You giddily laughed as he turned the corner, pleased to see he was loosening up.

Walking down the stairs, you passed a rushing Lysithea who didn't even recognise you. You grinned, shaking your head. Always in a rush, that girl! Or, well, woman. She'd like that better.

Sauntering, you caught a glimpse of a certain purple and ginger-headed duo bickering. "Lee! Lorenz! Whatever is wrong, my dear friends?" You cheered, slinging your arms around the two. Leonie raised a brow at you, grinning, seemingly relieved at your arrival. Lorenz, on the other hand, froze up. "Although you may have connections to House Riegan, (Y/N)..." He grumbled, sighing.

"Oh chill, Lorenz!" You guffawed, shaking your head. He'd become considerably more agreeable, but God, he'll hold onto that 'treating commoners with his version of respect' ideal forever.

Leonie nodded with you. "Yeah, buddy." She pointedly looked at Lorenz, crossing her arms. "Well, apparently (Y/N), Lorenz thinks that he can't take me to tea because I'm 'unpleasant'". Hands now on her hips, she turned back to you.

You smirked. "Lovers quarrel?" You asked, shifting your weight.

"NO, DUMBASS!" "Absolutely not!"

You cackled at the yells, waving your hands in front of your face dismissively. They really did act like it!

"My bad, my bad... now, Leonie is a great dining partner! But... I doubt tea is even your thing." You offered, mockingly putting on a wise tone. She slowly nodded, realising you're right.

"Yeah! A good meal is better than tea. Thanks for seeing my point, (Y/N)." She slapped your back before, turning away. "I'll spend this time on training, can never get enough!" She waved goodbye to the two of you, although you supposed it was more to you.

Lorenz sighed, brushing his, admittedly less foul, hair out of his face. "I fail to see why you defend her." He muttered, looking to you. You raised a brow, tilting your head for that added 'what do you mean?' effect.

"Simply put, she wouldn't make a fair tea partner. She accused me of the reason being that she was a commoner, but it truly was not! I explained to her, but she seemed to have not appreciated my honesty, either." He pondered, lips pursing.

"Well, Lorenz! I think you need a lesson in manners." You bluntly asserted, placing your hands on your sides.

"Why I never-"

"Not that you don't have wonderful manners! However, your honesty can be jarring... you come off rude, man." You explained, patting his shoulder.

"So I am to lie?"

"Gah! No! Look, how about we discuss it over tea?" You suggested, exasperated. As intelligent as the dude is, his social cues with... commoners and the rest of us normal people are is abysmal!

He nodded. "A splendid notion! Shall we take this to my dorm? I feel as though the tea court will be filled by now. I also have some delectable flavours and tea sets!" He smiled, leading you away.

You yelped, catching up to him. What was the deal with guys walking briskly away from you?

~~~~

"Please, take a seat." He offered, pulling out a chair for you. You mumbled thanks, sitting down.

Crossing your legs, you hummed. Was this a curse? Was this going to end up in you fucking the most pretentious man? Well, the omniscient presence watching your every move knows the answers.

As he poured the tea into your embellished cup, you admired the colour. "How pretty! And the teacup compliments it!" You whispered in awe, looking back up to Lorenz. He smiled sweetly at you, almost in the way one would at a kitten or puppy.

"I'm glad you have a knack for spotting artistic factors in the simplest things." He said, sitting down opposite you.

"However, on our way here, I thought about something."

You gulped. How was your impending lecturing being turned on you?!

"Y-yes?" You stuttered, bringing the teacup to your mouth, sipping nervously on the steaming liquid.

He eyed you, before humming.

"I doubt you're the most qualified person to teach me about manners." He said, gauging your reaction. You halted sipping on your tea.

Collecting yourself, you placed your teacup back down. "Oh? Why would that be?" You questioned, fiddling with the tablecloth.

"Well, you seem to have time engaging in certain... promiscuous activities, that isn't exactly too innocent or polite." He murmured, sipping on his tea.

Your eyes bulged, hands antsy as they moved to your face to hide your shock.

"For someone so carefree to participate in such... activities in public, you sure do seem to hold a facade of modesty." He replied, watching you sternly.

"Yeah, imagine how it feels having someone know of this!" You gritted your teeth, clenching your arms.

He raised a brow, smiling crookedly. "Certainly you wouldn't mind. Considering you would do so on holy grounds. You and Claude seemed to have not cared. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole monastery heard you."

You gasped, moving to get out of your chair. You didn't need a lecture from Lorenz.

He stood up with you, challenging your gaze.

"When I told Leonie she wasn't well-kempt enough... I suppose you aren't any better." He smirked, watching you bite your lip anxiously.

"Damnit, what do you want!? Don't tell anyone, I'll do anything!" You pleaded, taking a step forward. Lorenz grinned at this, raising a brow. He walked around the table, coming to face you directly. You looked down, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Since you're so eager to offer. Perhaps I could partake in those services Claude recommended to you?" He whispered, hand coming to tilt your chin upwards. Your face erupted in a dark heat, your heart thumping.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz.

You collected yourself, giving him a sly grin as your hands found themselves around his neck. "Well, if you're interested in a free trial..." You hinted, swaying your hips.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz.

He gulped, smiling crookedly. "You strike a hard bargain, my fair lady. I suppose I'd have to indulge." He murmured, grabbing underneath your knee and pulling your leg up to his waist.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz.

"Then, please, take whatever you'd like."

Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck-

Your lips were captured by his own, as you soon felt your weight shift as your body was lifted from the ground. You wrapped your legs around him fully as you were set down on his plush bed

The kiss heated up passionately, feeling Lorenz palm you through your normal uniform. Being a Sunday, no war business was discussed and no armour was worn. He cupped your breasts.

"You're hardly pleasant, ever so brash and callous. But not to fear, I'll mould you into a fair woman. However, I'd say I prefer your unabashed promiscuousness." He hissed, stripping you of your uniform. Soon, your bra and underwear followed.

He shed his own casual uniform, for once in his life, not caring. That was proved as much as he dropped his uniform onto the mahogany floors.

You were pushed down onto the bed as you felt Lorenz slide on top of you, his already hard dick grinding against your slick cunt. You sighed, capturing his lips in a kiss once more.

His hands moved to your breasts, removing his mouth from your own only to kiss up the skin. Poking, squeezing, kissing, licking. He left no stone unturned, or in this case, no skin untouched. His apparent fixation on your breasts soon shifted to your darkened face. He simpered at his work.

"You will be good practice for the future. I suppose a whore such as yourself wouldn't oppose being treated with such behaviour." He proposed, his hands stroking up and down your sides.

"I... I'm not a whore!" You defended weakly. Yet any argument was soon washed away as he began to rub his dick up and down against your vagina.

"Oh? Ah, I see. So making love... no, I should say, carelessly fucking your former classmates one after another was just a hallucination?" He asked, the tip of his dick sliding into your walls for a split second before retreating.

"N-no, that's not what I meant!" You cried out, frustrated at the lack of stimulation.

"Ah, straight to denial, I see! You have skipped explaining and gone straight to denying your needy, sluttish behaviour." He groaned as he felt you pull him closer.

You cried out in frustration before looking away.

" F-fine! You're right that I'm a whore! I'm a whore who loves her classmate's dicks! Now please fuck me!" You moaned, exasperated.

"That's wonderful to hear."

And no sooner than he spoke did he thrust his dick right into your pussy, a silent moan escaping your open lips. He leant over you, feeling your tits press against him. Your legs rose and wrapped around his pistoning hips.

You struggled to get a full breath at the pace he was thrusting at, it sent your head spinning. You couldn't think, you could only feel as you were fucked silly by the one guy you could never like.

Yet, that distaste furthered your arousal.

"You are far from suitable for me. You.." He heaved as you clenched around him. "Naughty. You're brash, loud, unladylike... but you make a wonderful cocksleeve." He groaned into your ear, letting out soft moans.

You felt the coil in your stomach tighten at his words.

"Then... you're just like me! Sinking down... to my level just for some pussy?" You teased, slurring.

He smirked annoyedly. "Tch, I wouldn't say that in your position." He grunted out, holding you tighter as he pistoned harder.

"O-oh! I... you!" You moaned, speech cutting off as you couldn't talk. It was so fast, so hard, so good!

The two of you continued to moan and grunt, accompanied only by the sound of skin slapping. The erotic groans of the man you held such distaste for was sending you over the edge. You hated it so much that you loved it.

To the means of an end, you felt the coil snap as he groaned once more in your ear, the spasming of your walls soon causing him to cum. You felt your ravaged pussy shudder as ropes of hot cum seared your insides. As he slid out, it trailed out.

Lorenz looked down on you, smiling coyly at the sight. "Speechless and fucked silly, that's a perfect look for you."

#fanfic #fire emblem x reader smut #fire emblem x reader #fe3h x reader #fe3h #fire emblem smut #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem #fe3h smut #fe3h fanfic #fanfic smut #smut #fanfiction #lorenz #lorenz gloucester #lorenz hellman gloucester #lorenz x reader #lorenz x reader smut

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the-marauders-enthusiast · 3 years

Text

I’ve Fallen in Love With My Best Friend - James P. x Reader

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: There’s an Amortentia lesson in Potions one day, and y/n feels confident that her best friend and crush, James Potter, didn’t like her back, as he has his heart reserved for Lily Evans. James also believes he’s in love with Lily, but things change when he smells someone else in the Amortentia.

Walking into Professor Slughorn's class, you noticed the other students were perked up, excited for the lesson. You sat down, confused, until you saw the potion on Slughorn's desk, which you immediately noticed was Amortentia. Like your other classmates, you also felt eager for the lesson to start.

Suddenly you heard some people stumble into the room, instantly recognizing them as your best friends, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. You smiled at James, seeing him scan his eyes around the room to find you. You waved your hand, calling him over to sit next to you. He grinned and walked over to the desk, sitting in the seat. "Good morning y/n!" he greeted kindly. He then looked around the classroom, his face morphing to a confused look when he noticed the buzzing excitement in the room. "Why is everyone so chipper today?" he asked. You then pointed at the potion on Slughorn's desk, "I'm guessing we're doing a lesson on Amortentia today." He was about to ask was Amortentia was, but was interrupted when Slughorn started talking.

"Good morning class, today we will be learning about Amortentia! Now, does anyone know what that is?" He questioned. You raised your hand quickly, and smiled when he called on you. "Amortentia is known as the world's most powerful love potion, and smells different to each person, as it's supposed to smell like whatever you love most."

"Perfect Ms. y/l/n! 10 points to y/h." you grinned proudly. You then heard Sirius' voice behind you, "Well I don't think prongs needs to smell it, we all know what it's gonna be!" He teased, James saying a lighthearted "shut up!" in return.

You knew what Sirius was talking about, of course. It was common knowledge that James was head over heels for Lily Evans, how could he not? In your eyes, she was everything that you wanted to be. Lily was gorgeous, popular, but most of all, she had James' attention. You've been in love with James about the same amount of time hes been in love with lily, and it hurt. It hurt being in love with someone who was so painfully obviously in love with someone else. Suddenly you weren't as excited for the lesson as you were before, as you weren't exactly thrilled to hear James talk about Lily's scent in the potion.

Slughorn started to call people up to smell the potion, and you waited your turn, watching them quickly walk to the desk when their name was called.

"Ms. y/l/n?" You snapped your head up. Everyone's eyes were suddenly on you, although the only ones that mattered were the hazel ones staring next to you. You started to get nervous, walking to the potion on the desk. Once there, you smelled the mixture.

broomstick polish, cologne, and freshly cut grass.

You rolled your eyes smiling, you had very clearly smelt one James Fleamont Potter. what a shocker, you thought. You gave a quick thanks to Professor Slughorn and sat back down, too embarrassed to share what you smelt with the class.

a few people went after you, and then James was called up. He smiled as the other marauders teased him. He confidently walked to the potion, grinning widely. Looking very sure of himself, he swiftly smelt the Amortentia. Then he suddenly had a puzzled expression on his face, quickly shifting to a frown. You started to feel worried as he nodded at Slughorn and quickly walked back to his seat. You instantly turned to him, "James are you okay?". His eyes widened dramatically, "What? oh yeah, I'm fine.", he replied quickly, avoiding your eyes. You frowned and turned back to the class.

When the lesson ended he practically ran out of the room, the other pranksters following quickly, looking ready for an interrogation. You just stared at the seat he was just sitting at, wondering what could have happened for him to act like that.

After that potions lesson, James had started avoiding you. Hed constantly make sure he didn't run into you, avoid your eye contact, sit far away from you at all times, and practically pretend you didn't exist. Any time you tried to talk to him, he would just brush you off, giving some lame excuse. It was as if the two of you had never been friends.

- "Hey James, do you wanna go to Hogsmeade this weekend with the others?"

"Sorry, I need to catch up on homework."

- " James! Wanna go to the library together after class?"

"I already have plans, sorry y/n."

- "Hey wanna go to the Quidditch pitch and practice?"

"Uh sorry y/n, maybe another time."

After a couple weeks of the neglect, your concern and confusion had turned into anger. What had you done to make him avoid you? And why couldn't he just talk to you about it? At this point, you had gotten fed up. You were walking to the Great Hall for dinner, and saw your friends about to walk in. Before a certain stag could enter, you grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back to face you.

"Oi! What are you- y/n!" He had a panicked expression, not expecting you to be the one who pulled him back. You made sure the other marauders were gone before dragging James to an empty corridor.

"What's your problem!" he asked exasperatedly, which made you scowl angrily.

"My problem?! You're the problem you idiot!"

He frowned, about to defend himself but you stopped him before he could.

"You've been avoiding me like the plague for weeks!"

"No I have-"

"Don't even try to deny it! I thought we were friends James."

"We are friends!"

"Then why have you been pretending like i dont exist!?" You shouted, feeling all of your anger bubble to the surface. James raised his eyebrows, shocked at the anger in your voice. you felt tears start to brim your eyes, "...is it me? Did i do something wrong?" Your voice had lowered, filled with fear, and you felt a tear roll down your face.

His gaze softened, "No, y/n, its not you", He said reassuringly. You felt more tears fall onto your cheeks.

"It just feels like I'm losing you James." You looked down at your feet. He lifted your chin to make you look up at him. "You could never lose me, y/n", he said with a pained expression.

Your brows threaded together, "Then whats wrong? Why haven't you been talking to me?"

He's silent for a few moments before finally finding the words.

"...I was scared", He whispered.

You frowned, "Of what?"

"My feelings. I've been so confused-"

"James i don't understand-"

"Please, just let me explain", he said nervously. You nodded, letting him continue.

"..For so long.. I thought it was Lily. I thought she was the one for me. I've been chasing after her for so long.. I was so sure that she was it for me. And then that Amortentia lesson happened. I was so confident it would smell like her.. but it didnt", he looked down and twiddled his thumbs, "It was you."

Your eyes widened, "James-"

"Just listen. I smelled you in the Amortentia. And for days after I was so confused about my feelings - feelings for Lily and for you. But the more I thought about it the more it made sense, and i started realizing how i truly feel. I used Lily as a distraction from the one person I actually loved, because I didn't know how to deal with those feelings. Because the truth is, I didn't know how to deal with the fact that I had fallen in love with my best friend... I love you y/n. It's always been you." He wore a pained expression, "And im so, so sorry i didnt realize it sooner."

You stared at him in surprise, well that's definitley not what I thought he was gonna say.

He grew worried at your silence, "Please say something." He pleaded, which seemed to pull you out of your stupor.

"Broomstick polish, cologne, and freshly cut grass", you stated.

He squinted in confusion, "What?"

"That's what I smelled in the Amortentia.. It smelled like you." He opened his mouth in surprise and you continued, "I love you James. I've loved you for so long, and I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear you say you feel the same way."

James' face brightened, and he pulled you into a bone crushing hug. When he pulled away from it, you noticed how close his face had gotten to yours, and it seemed james did too. He slowly moved his hand to grasp the side of your face, body moving closer as he placed his other hand on your waist.

"Can i kiss you?" He whispered.

You nodded, feeling heat rising up your neck and closing your eyes in anticipation. You felt his face inch closer, and he softy placed his lips on yours. Your hands immediately threaded through his dark curls, and you kiss him harder. You feel him pushing you back against the wall, the hand on your cheek moving down to your collarbone.

The kiss started to get a little more heated, but then you hear a voice across the corridor, causing you and James to separate and look toward the source of the noise.

"Ah! So dinner and a show!" Sirius laughed, Remus and Peter chuckling next to him.

"Oi, shove off" James says, smiling at them.

"But seriously, we're glad to see you too catching up again." Remus added.

"Thank you guys", you say fondly.

You look back at James, "I'm glad too.” you grinned at him softly before looking back at the group, “Alright can we go to the Great Hall now, I'm starving."

Sirius chuckles, "I didn't think you'd be hungry after eating eachother's faces off"

"Shove it padfoot."

#marauder #hp marauders #young marauders #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #remus lupin #sirius black #harry potter #harry potter x y/n

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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

Text

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 17- Goddess

Pairing: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 5586

Warnings: Slight mature content, nothing major

AN: Ya’ll have no idea how much I love this GIF of Ivar. His eye roll is literally what I imagine him doing all the time.

16- Free

...

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Steady your stance.

Pull the string.

Release the arrow.

It was a lot harder than Artemis anticipated.

She missed her target, a small, dark rabbit that fled the moment the arrow pierced into the damp earth beside it.

She sucks her teeth.

"Mm, that was better, but you still lack the patience." Ivar says to her with a chuckle. To him it was second nature, but watching Artemis with a bow was like watching a babe attempting to walk.

He sat as comfortably as he could on a chair brought by one of his many other thralls, and he watched as Artemis lowered her bow in defeat. It amused him to see her strive for perfection. It reminded him of himself when he was a child and still learning the ways of archery.

At his heels were his obedient elkhounds brought with him from Norway, eager to run wild and hunt even in the early summer heat. They were the same ones Ivar threatened her with, but that was neither here nor there.

He held one of them tightly in place with a leather strap, the other 3 pulling hard against a male thralls grip. They were beautiful things, large, with cream and black fur and large dark eyes. The hounds were adorable at first glance, but they were fierce, destroying anything in their path with ease if Ivar commanded them to.

Ivar snapped his fingers, and the wolf like dogs immediately ceased their whinning, staring up at their master with expecting eyes.

"Go." He commands, both he and the thrall letting go of the leather, the hounds instantly fled into the trees. All 4 returned with a dead rabbit in its mouth in a matter of minutes, surrounding their masters feet.

"Your hounds are show offs." Artemis pouts while Ivar grins, giving his beasts meat treats as the thrall collects the rabbits.

"Who else is to provide our dinner if you can't manage to shoot anything?" He says with a tired chuckle. His features betrayed him, revealing his discomfort from the usual pain that inflicted him daily, but it passed just as quickly as it came. He extended his arm out, palm open as an invitation for Artemis to hand over the bow.

Once securely in his hand, Ivar places his crutch to the side. He looks about slowly, listening to the sounds of the forest with his blue eyes closed and his lashes dusting over his cheekbones. Moments like these were the ones that Artemis admired the most, quickly scanning her eyes over him.

Ivar was no master of blades, but he was extremely skilled with a bow, and he almost never missed his target, Artemis had witnessed it many times when he use to train with his brothers.

Suddenly his piercing eyes fluttered open, and he silently motioned for Artemis to hand him an arrow from her quiver.

"Wha-"

"Shh."

He quickly reprimands her, putting a finger over his lips before placing the arrow in its place and stretching back the bow string as far as he could, aiming the sharp arrow towards the bright green tree tops. He stared up toward the skies for a moment in comfortable silence. Artemis would have spoken again if it weren't for the whizzing of the arrow soaring through the air at a raging velocity.

The tree tops shook a bit, and a squeal emitted from its depths before a dark shadow descended from above, falling at the foot of the large tree trunk. How Ivar had the ability to shoot down a squirrel from such a distance was beyond her, but most impressive nonetheless.

"Did you not mention your patron goddess was a huntress?" He asks with a smirk, and Artemis rolls her eyes with a snort.

"I am named after a goddess, but it does not mean I am one." Ivar shrugs, handing her back the bow.

"I like to think you are." He says, turning his blue gaze towards the familiar brown.

Artemis blinks, only able to conjure up a shy smile as she felt her cheeks burn. A strange feeling began to flutter in her lower abdomine. It was a strange feeling indeed, but she liked it, the fluttering intensifying when he bites his lips in apprehension.

"And what have you done to elicit such flattery from my brother?" Both too distracted with each other, they failed to noticed Hvitserk watching their scene, smirking at them in the way all the brother's

It was borderline infuriating.

"Shut up, Hvitserk." Ivar says with a growl, far less malicious than he wanted. He watches his hounds charge from sniffing at the green pastures to leaping towards his older brother in excitement.

"Forgive me for interrupting," Hvitserk laughs, trying to individually caress eat dog that pounced up his legs, "But the bishop has come to a decision. He wishes to speak with you."

Ivar hums nodding his head as he grabs his crutch, "Very well. Perhaps we shall gain a warrior on our side."

"Why do you wish for the bishop to fight for you?" Artemis asks quietly, cocking her head to the side in curiosity, "I thought you hated Christian's?"

"I thought so too." Hvitserk agrees, the smirk never leaving his lips.

"I suppose there are a few that aren't so bad." Ivar speaks just as quietly, his penetrating gaze lingering on her for another moment before motioning with his hands for the party to head back into the city.

...

The bishop, after being humiliated in the streets of York by the foreigners, proved himself, killing a taunting man before Ivar's very eyes and swearing allegiance to him. To sink a knife into another man's flesh and ending his life was enough to ignite Ivar, it could be seen in the way his eyes glowed.

Plans were set in motion once again, this time with King Harald Finehair, who had been a head strong ally with them thus far. The viking settlement in York would be overseen by one of Ivar's men now that the king of Northumbria was eliminated and the kingdom of Wessex weakend tremendously. Many who came with the Ragnarson's decided to stay in the Yorkish settlement, and that included Arvid and Alfhild. Artemis didn't know whether it was their decision or Ivar's, but she supposed it was for the best.

Alfhild was pregnant, perhaps a sign of their gods that their growing family should remain on English soil until their call back to Kattegat would come.

She was excited as any future mother would, rubbing her still flat belly in affection for her child to be. Arvid was pleased, though not as much as a man who truly loves his wife. There was a pride in knowing that a man could impregnate his woman, but if he could not love her, then what was the point? Arranged marriages usually ended in this way, loveless and disconnected, but it was clear Alfhild held much love for her husband who was as stubborn as mule. Arvid was a good man, but like most men, he failed in the arts of love.

The news spread rather quickly: Ivar the Boneless's slave was a woman whose life was now her own to command.

A few men saw it as an advantage to steer their eyes away from their duties. Admirers would visit to forge for idle talk, much to Artemis's annoyance, and Arvid's. Usually he'd send them away with a mouthful of curses.

Ivar remained good spirited. The leader of the largest army known to man spent whatever free time he had giving her archery lessons on days where he had the most time to spare. Normally any great leader would strain their minds on more pressing matters, but Ivar always seemed to make the time for her. She never asked for it, but she was starting to enjoy him company.

Artemis supposed life was bearable, for now. Ivar treated her well as he said he would, with a decent space in the church of her own, and she had access to as much food as she could want. After supper, she'd collect as much as she could, offering bread and fruit to the other thralls who were in far worse conditions than she’d ever been. It was the least she could do.

She spends her days in the forge with the other smith's, repairing weapons and restoring the ships, replacing the large iron nails holding the thick wood together. Her nights were held under candle light, mending and creating new chainmail.

Sometimes, her mind wandered off to her father, and whenever it did, she'd have to pause to gather herself before she could burst into tears.

The only thing she could hope for was for the dreadful weather to clear.

...

The weather never did clear.

The rains of York bombarded them. Each day the clouds grew darker and closer, bringing with them the harsh rains that soaked them to the bone. It worried some if they were to travel in a few days time in such conditions, but the men worked through it, preparing their supplies for their journey back to the north.

Ivar managed to crack the iron on the side of his brace, and Artemis spent her morning welding the split metal back together. After wiping her hands on a wet cloth, she quickly puts her cloak on with the hood over her face, running through the showers and into the church.

Inside was mostly vacant, save for a few guards that roamed about with ale in their hands as their pass time. Their eyes lingered on her for a moment, but she learned to ignore it.

The bishop sat alone with a dreary look on his face as he was clearly annoyed with the intoxicated guards. He was seated among the many rows of benches placed within, his chained hands set atop the wooden table top with a plate in between of bread and cheese.

He greets her with a nod of his head. His dirty hands worked to rip apart bread, popping them in his mouth and chewing the pieces unbecomingly. She returns the greeting, quickly making her way to Ivar's chamber.

"You will not like what you see." The bishop's smile was hidden behind a crust of bread. Her obvious confusion amused him.

"What?"

Heahmund chuckles in the way that older men do, deep and guttural. He shakes his head, ripping another piece of bread.

"I've heard many rumors of the boneless leader and his...condition," He begins, watching Artemis's mouth twitch at the corners, "Well, nevermind. I suppose you will see soon enough." Annoyed with his chatter, she stomps over to the chamber, finding the door slightly ajar.

She hesitates, before stepping in.

"Prince Ivar, I've repaired your braces as reque-" She stops, eyes wide at the scene before her. The blonde, Freydis, was completely naked and looming over a shirtless Ivar with a predatory smile. She was in the middle of kneeling, before both look towards the intrusion.

His fingers paused their skimming over the nakedness of her side, and Artemis thought it would be in her best interests to leave such an intimate sight, yet she found herself momentarily frozen in place.

"Gods, Artemis, have you no regard for privacy?" Ivar reacts quickly, pushing Freydis away roughly as he eyed Artemis with a look of...well, she didn't know what to call that look. It was strange, almost apologetic.

"F-forgive me." She stutters, placing the sack with his braces neatly into a corner before running off. She stops beside the bishop, placing a hand over her beating heart as she let's out a shuddering breath. The bishop raises a brow, watching her in amusement as she places her hands over her face in embarrassment.

"I warned you."

"Shut up." She snarls at him, dashing off into the rain without another word. The last thing she heard was Heahmund's laughter echoing after her.

She stomps into the forge, the heat of the fire mixed with rain made an uncomfortable combination of humidity and moisture, dampening her mood further.

"Did Ivar favor the repairs?" Arvid asks cautiously, raising at brow at how disheveled she looked. He was already sensing her foul mood. They were barely on speaking terms, treading softly around each other, but he knew when she was upset, and it was very obvious that she was now. He didn't want to leave her alone, but his duties were to help the other men load their wares onto the ships. He places his cloak about his shoulders, awaiting an answer.

"It was fine." She grunts, not meeting his eyes. Arvid frowns, placing on his hood.

"I am to help the others gather the supplies for departure. See to the repairs." With that he stepped out into the rain, leaving her alone with her troubling thoughts.

So what if he preferred the company of Freydis? That was no business of hers...she attempts to lecture herself.

She peels off her cloak, tossing it aside carelessly. Her hair was soaked, chunks of it across her brow and cheeks from running without her hood on.

The scene replayed in her mind over and over again. The image of Ivar's face and how his fingers lingered over Freydis's skin was seared in her mind. She wondered how his touch would feel on her own skin before scowling.

"Shit." She groans dramatically, wasting no time in busying herself pounding away at the whatever weapons needed repairs. She was glad for the distraction, as her mind raced with unholy thoughts that bolied her blood. She found comfort in the sounds of metal hitting metal, the pattering of the rain soothing her for once.

The familiar scraping of metal and the stabbing of a crutch engulfed the empty forge. She sighs, her eyes peering up at Ivar as he entered. Now fully dressed and looking very much like himself, he was certainly amused.

She glares but says nothing, looking back at the task at hand. The blade was almost new again, and with one more dip in the fire it would be complete.

"Artemis," Ivar grins, grabbing a stool to sit beside her as she worked, "I can hear your ridiculous hammering from my chambers," His smile remained, and before she could raise the hammer again to beat the sword, he curls his fingers around her wrist, halting her actions.

"Something is troubling you." He remarks, easily snatching the hammer from her hand. She rolls her eyes, placing the sword into the bucket of cold water behind her. It was finished anyway.

"I am fine. " She replies stubbornly, attempting to grab the hammer, but he successfully holds it away from her. Even sitting he was much taller then her, and he held the hammer above his head like a child stealing another's toy. Artemis scowls, not bothering to reach for it anymore.

"Why are you here?" Ivar rolled his eyes, handing her back the tool.

"I think it only right to check on the work of my blacksmith."

"Here," She says, removing the sword from the bucket to shove the blade in his face, "Here is my work. Good?" Ivar smirks, humming as he moved two of his fingers to push the blade away from him.

"She was just a whore, Artemis, a bed warmer." She gives him a sharp look, watching as his blue eyes twinkle with mirth. He was teasing her.

"So?"

"So why do you seem so upset?"

"I am not upset."

"You're a terrible liar." She scoffs, pursing her lips.

"They say you freed her. Is it true?" Ivar hesitates.

"Yes."

"I wonder what she has done to merit that," Artemis mutters, "But I suppose it is no concern of mine." She turns away from him, wanting so badly to hide her emotions.

Ivar frowns.

"Artemis, look at me." She sighs, but obeys, moving to bring her gaze back to his. He reaches a hand out, gently moving away the wet pieces of hair from her face with a chuckle. He admires her for a moment, watching her lashes flutter in nervousness. Her cheeks were flushed, and she worried her lip between her teeth.

Ivar sighs, bringing his hand back to run it down the expanse of the new braids he sported. He couldn't bring himself to admit what he was truly feeling, and neither could she. Instead he teased her, offering her a toothy grin.

"Did you want to be in Freydis's place? Did you want to be the one about to suck me off?"

There it was, the reaction he knew was to come. Her face transformed into that of an angry wolf, eyebrows arched and lips set in a line. She wanted to punch him so badly, feeling her fists curl up on instinct.

She stops herself. Still not a good idea to punch a viking prince.

She quickly grabs her cloak, removing her gloves and tossing them at Ivar before stepping out into the foul weather. She needed to think, and be away from him.

...

"So, have you done...anything with her...yet?" Hvisterk inquires, ripping the meat off a chicken bone with his teeth, chewing unceremoniously. Ivar sat quietly, picking at his food, his mind running off.

"Who?"

"You know who, " Hvitserk rolls his eyes but continues, "Because if you don't, I would not mind." He shrugs, a smile breaking out when his brother glares at him.

"You will do no such thing." Ivar growls, slamming his hands down on the wooden table top, immediately silencing the church. He looked around before motioning for everyone to continue their meals, and so the chatter began again. Hvitserk laughs, tossing the chicken bone at Ivar, who quickly swatted it out his way.

"So I see she is still yours without being yours. Tell me brother, how can you have such a brilliant mind for war, yet such ignorance towards affection?" Hvitserk wasn't much of a romantic man himself, but even he wanted to feel the tender touches of love.

"Blame these useless legs." Ivar snarls. His nose flares in annoyance, reaching out to gulp down his own ale, and once he finished it, he grabbed at Hvitserk’s. He slammed the cup down when he finished, and after a moment, he relaxes, drumming his fingers over the table top and finally meeting his brothers eyes.

"Artemis is a distraction," He begins with a hiccup, "She is a Christian."

"That cannot be the issue," Hvitserk snorts, reaching out to eat another leg of chicken, "She is educated in our ways, you saw to that. I think you're scared baby brother."

"Hvitserk," Ivar warns, "Shut. Up."

"And she is beautiful, Ivar, " He continues, lowering his tone, "You decided to free her. You know men will venture towards her like hawks. If you desire her, then claim her." He shrugs.

"She is not the type to be...claimed, Hvitserk. She is not like...Freydis." He mutters the blonde girls name as if a poison were coated on his lips. She had been so convincing, whispering in his ear all the things he wished to hear, telling him the things he was capable of, and yet it all felt so wrong. Especially seeing Artemis's eyes after that.

"What happened with that anyway? Was she any good?" Hvitserk asks, crossing his arms over the table and leaning forward with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

"Nothing happened," Ivar hisses, "She couldn't-I couldn't," He hesitates, "Artemis walked in on us-"

"She what?" Laughter bubbled in Hvitserk's chest, and he couldn't hold back the grin, "Ivar you must be daft. You’re setting her up to fall into the arms of another! As I said, I wouldn’t mind taking her off your hands-"

"I will fight you and all the others that dare approach her!" Ivar booms, slamming his hands onto the table, raising himself up as if ready to pounce at him. He gulps down the sudden rage, his eyes blinking, noticing his men once again stop to look at him.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Hvitserk asks, far use to his brothers outbursts. Ivar exhales through his nostrils, willing himself to relax. Slowly, he lowers himself back down with a plop, his eyes following his brother as he gets up and leaves the church.

He sighs, ripping apart a loaf of bread, and shoving the piece in his mouth.

How could he feel the way he did for a Christian? He swore to the gods he would stay faithful to his people, and to be with a true northern woman, but he found himself less interested in the women faithful to his gods, and more interested in that insuffereable woman faithful to her one.

"Shit." Ivar groans, dropping his head into his hands.

He was stupid.

...

Daylight came to an end and it had continued to rain in light showers that evening when the moon began to rise into the sky. Artemis searched for a moments peace, leaving the other blacksmith's with the remaining work that needed completing.

She bid England a farewell, knowing she'd never cross the sea again to view its horizon. Although it rained as if the sky were weeping, the surrounding nature was beautiful. Maybe not as beautiful as the hills of Crete or even the mountains in Norway, but it was peaceful.

There was a little yelp behind her, and she felt light nips against her ankles. Looking down she smiles at the pup as it cocks its head at her before wagging his tail, jumping on 2 legs to balance his paws on her leg. He was small, and a bit malnourished, with cream colored fur, black floppy ears and snout.

She often gave him bits of food when she had the chance, giving the pup reason to trail after her.

She smiles, bending down to scratch him behind his ears, grateful for his company. Picking a spot on the dewy grass, she spreads her cloak over it before laying down and closing her eyes with a content sigh. The rain had finally stopped and she was grateful, breathing in the night air. The river Thames' rushing waters helped to sooth her nerves.

It had taken some time, but her anger diffused. She couldn't be angry at him anymore, it was nearly impossible. Or perhaps she was just tired.

Or stupid.

The hound went to snuggle beside her, seeking out her warmth. It must have been an eventful day for both hound and girl, but they could forget all their troubles in that moment.

"Goddess of the moon, and hounds? And perhaps of torment as well." Ivar's voice was unmistakeable. Artemis could pinpoint it in a noisy crowd if she needed to. The sound of his voice in the distance was enough to have the hound act in suspicion.

"Prince Ivar." She greets him, eyes still closed, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He slithers along the damp grass, shushing the baby hound when it moved to growl at him.

"I never thanked you for repairing my braces, so...thank you." He plops beside her, laying down with his arms behind his head.

Artemis cracks an eye open with a snort. She turns to look at him, her eyes following the line of his profile. Ivar had his long hair loose, the dark strands forming waves from his earlier hairstyle, spread over the grass. It was a look Artemis was enamored with, but would never cared to admit. He was handsome indeed.

"Something tells me that is not why you are here." She says, and he finally turns to look at her, his blue eyes hard with determination.

"I wanted to...apologize for earlier. I did not mean to tease you so." Artemis sat up, turning to peer down at Ivar with a look of disbelief.

"Prince Ivar the Boneless does not apologize."

"I am being serious."

"So am I." He huffs, turning away from her to look at the moon, bright among the stars.

"It's fine." She finally says.

"That's it? It's fine?"

"Yes. "

"I meant what I said, you know," He continues, "Freydis was only a whore to warm my bed." He could almost hear how hard she was thinking.

"It's fine," She repeats, "There is no need to explain yourself, P-"

"Ivar," He cut her off, "You may call me Ivar." She pauses, fingers passing over the pups fur.

"Ivar." She corrects with a sigh, biting her lip to fight back a smile. It was different addressing him without his title.

She plops back down against the damp grass, her eyes moving across the night sky to catch a glimpse of all the stars. There was a comfortable silence that fell between them as they looked up at the heavens.

"Do you ever wonder," Artemis begins, "About the night sky, or the moon and stars?"

"No." Ivar snorts.

"There are stories my ancestors believed of the night," She recounts, "My father use to tell them to me when I was a girl."

"We have stories too. Nótt is the night sky, Mani the moon, and one of Aurvandil's toes is that star right over there." He points up, turning with a frown when Artemis laughs.

"What's so funny?"

"A toe?"

"Yes," He grunts, "What is it you Christian's believe?"

"That God created everything, of course."

"How dull." She laughs again, rolling her body to her side, finding he was already looking at her.

"The old Greeks believed the stars were people rewarded by the gods for noble deeds." Ivar smiles through his confusion.

"I like Aurvandil's toe better."

"It's, uhh, a beautiful toe, I suppose." Ivar chuckles, leaning up on his elbows.

"Why the sudden interest in the stars?"

"It was never sudden," She says, "I would sleep under the stars everyday of my life if I could. It is a comfort to admire the beauty in this world when it can be so cruel."

"Do you think me cruel?" Ivar utters the words softly, lowering himself to face her. It was getting darker, her features hard to make out with the simple light of the moon, but there was enough to see the surprise in her eyes.

"I...I think you cruel when the moment calls for it. Because you feel you need to be." Ivar closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat. She was right.

"Cruelty wins wars. It conquers land," He pauses with a shaky breath, "But it would not win your heart." Her brows knit together in confusion.

"What?"

Ivar rolls his body closer to hers until he looms over her, maneuvering himself easily between her legs. She didn't put up a fight, though her eyes were wide with shock. He holds himself up, putting a hand atop her chest and feeling how her heart beated like drum.

"What must I do to win your heart?" She blinks up at him, debating if she should take him seriously.

"Why would you want to win my heart?" She holds his stare, their breaths puffing over each other with every timid exhale, "I thought perhaps you held the heart of another."

Ivar sucks his teeth, knowing exactly of who she meant. He dips his body lower until their chests touched and the tip of their noses brushed. His hair shields the sides of her face, cocooning her with his intense eyes. She hesitates before bringing her hands up to his chest, skimming the leather until her fingers curl over his shoulders.

"You are a foolish girl, you know that?" He chuckles, "A beautiful, yet foolish girl." He pauses, biting his lip in nervousness before gently placing his lips over hers.

Her lips were so soft, molding against his like a dance they had rehearsed over and over again. It was everything he could have hoped for, and he already begins to feel the buzz of excitement. She grips the back of his neck, bringing him closer, needing to feel his warmth. She melts into his kisses, feeling a pleasant heat engulf her.

It was...perfect.

After what felt like an eternity, their lips parted with an obscene sound, and he places his brow on hers, breathing in her scent of damp earth. Artemis brings a hand up to trace her fingers over his face, down the length of his nose, and to his jaw. She bites her lip, feeling her skin blaze like a fever.

"Do you really think me foolish?" She whispers, her eyes lingering over his lips before trailing them up to his eyes. They lit up when he smiles, crinkling at the corners.

"Did you really think she could warm my heart?" He counters.

"It was quite convincing." She mutters, "I thought perhaps I’d have to make one for you as I did your braces." She shifts her head away from his to save herself the embarrassment.

"Stop," He says gently, nudging her face back with his nose, "Do not hide from me anymore." He rolls off of her, and within a few seconds, he tugs her over him, her legs coming to rest on either side of his thighs. She grips the neckline of his leather vest to stabilize herself, and his hands sneak up to settle on her hips.

"Ivar, I-"

"Just listen to me, Artemis," She nods, resting her hands over his chest, "I was never fortunate enough to show affection as plainly as any other man could." He takes in a breath, closing his eyes as if to sum up the courage, before opening them again.

"I cannot explain it, but there is something you ignite in me that I could not ignore, no matter how hard I pleaded with the gods to make the ache in my heart stop. I can no longer ignore it." This time he turns his face away from hers, and this time, she brings him back, her palm brushing gently over his sideburn.

"Do not hide from me." She repeats his words with a smile, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. The same fluttering sensations in her abdomen from days ago resurfaced just from the simple intimate action.

"My heart aches for you." He admits, and she could feel his heart beating wildly as he said those words, his eyes swimming with...fear. She watches him carefully in silence.

"Artemis." Ivar pleads in a tone that was foreign to her ears. He was anxious.

"What of Freydis?" He sucks his teeth, lifting himself on his elbows to get a better look at her.

"If I truly wanted her, would I be wasting time revealing my heart to you?"

"I am not sure what you would do, Ivar." She admits, and he sighs, understanding her skepticism.

"I've never used her before." He mutters under his breath.

"Hmm?" Another sigh.

"I said, I've never used her...services before. Today would have been the first time." Artemis lowers herself over him, pushing him back down so that her face hovered a few inches above his.

"Are you lying?" She questions.

"No, baby bird, I am not," He smooths her over with the nickname, bringing both his hands up to grip the sides of her delicate face, her eyes suddenly glossing over.

"I did not have the strength to rid my thoughts of you. I thought perhaps she could rid them for me. For once, I was wrong." He runs the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones, and her eyes flutter at the sensation.

There was silence for a moment as their eyes battled each others.

"You torment me." He whines.

"Not a pleasant feeling, is it?" She laughs at the pout forming on his pink lips, letting him guide her back to his lips. He nips at her lips, smiling when she moans in what was a mixture of discomfort and desire. She pulls away, panting slightly as she buried herself in the crook of his neck.

"You are not alone in your affections," She mumbles over his skin, "But I must confess that I am afraid."

"I must confess the same," He says, "Love turns even the bravest of men into cowards. I see that now." She shifts her face to skim her lips over the hot skin of his face before lifting her upper body up again.

"Hmm." She considers his words as she shifts her hips over his, watching how his eyes screwed shut, mouth falling open. She freezes, unaware of what she’d just done.

"Fuck," He growls, his fingers sinking into her hips, "How did you do that?" Her eyes widened, totally naive of her own actions.

"I-I dont know." She stutters. Ivar shifts her hips over his again, and she chokes, closing her eyes as her body trembled from the foreign sensations.

"That," Ivar moans, drinking in the sight of her own face of pleasure, "That."

She feels him growing under her, the pressure pushing up against the heat between her legs. She licks her lips, feeling a desire surge through her that she'd never experienced before.

Ivar stares up at her in wonder, chest heaving and hands twitching over her hips before pulling her down for another heated kiss. His large hands explore the expanse of her back, settling right on the dip, pushing down to follow the rhythm in which she moved.

"I've never done this before." He pants shyly over her lips, releasing another moan that seemed to vibrate through her.

"Neither have I." She pants back, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"But the rumors-"

"Forget the rumors," She interrupts him, moving back just enough to make eye contact, "You believe love is what you feel for me?"

"I do." He nods without hesitation. She throws caution to the wind, swooping down for another kiss before replying.

"Then show me."

...

@heavenly1927 @didiintheblog @rastakami23 @inforapound @leilabeaux @ostra814

#ivarxofc #ivarfanfiction #ivar imagine #ivar #ivar the boneless #vikingsfanfiction #vikings fanfic #vikings ivar #vikings

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currentlyprocrastinating · 4 years

Text

@oc-growth-and-development

I had no plans to take the written route for OC-tober until I got a spontaneous burst of inspiration a few hours ago. This is unedited so please have, well, mercy on me... hehe.

(Also, I'm on mobile; sorry for any issues with formatting and whatnot.)

OC-tober Day 2: Mercy

Word Count: 777

Warnings: minor descriptions of violence

Resentment flowed through her veins and creased her otherwise stony features. At the end of her outstretched arm, her trembling hand clutched the loaded pistol that had once been in the possession of her enemy.

Her enemy -- the one who had stolen years of her life, exploited her, blackmailed her with death threats against her daughter. They sat before her now, staring up without a hint of fear, despite the cold muzzle pressed against their forehead. Their expression remained the same as ever: calm, self-assured, triumphant. It only served to fuel the fire in her chest. She gripped the gun tighter.

"Don't say a word," she growled when they parted their lips with a soft inhale. Their words were dangerously charismatic; given time, they could sway even the most stubborn of people. If they speak, she decided, I'll shoot. She didn't have a choice, not if this operation were to succeed. Her enemy needed to be locked away permanently, whether it was behind bars or six feet under.

Lips still curled into a smug smile, they shut their mouth. Their eyes conveyed the message well enough: "This isn't the end, no matter what you do to me. I've won."

Fury boiled in her stomach, sickeningly. She hardened her mien, her finger tightening on the trigger.

"Viktoria," came their smooth voice.

She froze, unable to follow through the resolution she had come to not a minute before. Damn, was she really this conditioned? So conditioned that murmuring nothing more than her name sent a flurry of doubts throughout her mind? Perhaps she had been too confident about--

No! This will work. It has to! These aren't my thoughts, they're not my thoughts, they're not mine...

"What are you waiting for?" her enemy purred. "Don't you want to kill me? Add another body to the--"

"Shut up," she snapped. "Don't act like you're any better than me! You made me do all those...!" Words abandoned her.

They hummed, features softening with a faux gentleness, one still bearing a cold underhue. "What would your daughter think? How would she feel learning--"

"Stop it! Stop talking, stop thinking, stop- stop breathing." Viktoria hissed out a shuddering exhale. "You don't know a thing about her."

"I know lots of things about her. I have many informants."

"Had," she corrected, her confidence returning with the reminder. "Your whole organization is going down. Right now. As we speak."

"And why are we speaking? Aren't you going to kill me? Won't it feel so cathartic? To finally get revenge?"

Viktoria narrowed her eyes, swallowing thickly. Don't let their words get to you. After a few seconds, a sneer twitched on her lips. "What's this reverse psychology-esque thing villains always seem to do, hm? Dancing with death like this? You either don't care, or you truly believe I'll let you get away."

The glint in their cruel eyes answered. Both. Of course, thought Viktoria. At this point, it can go on without them. But... A small, acidic smile crossed her face again. "It won't last forever. We'll hunt down every last one of your advocates."

"I wish you luck."

"I don't need your luck. I don't want it, either."

They shrugged, still level-headed as ever. As though bored, their gaze began wandering. "Are you going to just stand there making empty threats? Don't be weak. Just shoot."

Her hand quivered as she battled against the impulses brought about by their words. She clenched her jaw, steadied her hand, and made up her mind.

She lowered her arm.

They grinned. "Same as always. Even with my help, you just can't do it, can you? It's a wonder I recruited you at all. Where did all my lessons go in that weak mind of yours? Don't you hate me? I have your precious mess of a daughter in my hands and she doesn't even know. And you're going to show me mercy? I suppose you think you're being noble. But, in our world, you should know it doesn't w--"

In a fluid, practiced motion, Viktoria drove the end of the pistol against their head. They pitched to the side and crumpled onto the hard floor, alive but unconscious. Their immediate influence shed from her thoughts.

The move was impulsive; she had hardly acted of her own accord. It wasn't of her enemy's, either. It was of instinct -- the desperate need to stop the intruding words.

She stared down at the notorious leader, triumph and relief settling in her chest. A vague smirk tilted her mouth. She crouched beside them, eyes narrowed mockingly.

"I'll spare you death," she whispered, "but I will show you no mercy."

#oc-tober #my writing #original story #original characters #viktoria #hb #october 2020 #my post #oc-tober 2020 #417 does a thing for once #light angst #formatting on tumblr is a betch #rifters crew #cos this story doesn't have its revised title yet #uhh... just in case i end up liking this better:#rifters #unedited works

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jeonscity · 6 years

Text

Delectable Lesson | m

Pairing: jimin x reader Genre: 99.9% smut aka a lot of smut Warnings: mature content Word Count: 8K

You revel in the sensation of the soft muscle brushing against yours, one hand curling around the nape of his neck to decrease the very little distance that remains. But the act does nothing to soothe the seething wildfire under your skin, your mind too engrossed in the languid press and release of lips, the occasional nip of your bottom lip, and the torturous flitting touch fueling your high.

Lips sealing yours in a feverish haze, he continues his enticing service, his lips working to monopolize your every waking moment. And it takes the littlest ounce of effort on his end to have you lost in the motion. There is just something about the way he licks into your mouth that has sparks of pleasure shooting through you, and god is it addicting.

He’s notorious for being the epitome of perfection, the very embodiment of what males aspire to be and what most, if not all females want in a partner; smart, great looks and god like proportions. And while to the public he is seen as an angel free of flaws, he was no more than a wolf in a sheep’s cloak, relentless in his truest form, and you the victim to his ruthless teasing.

A master in the arts of charm and sweet talk, you fall for honeyed words that conceal the wry grin behind his innocent façade. While cloaked in his virtuous disguise, words of endearment mask hidden meanings, his false front only then unravelling with whispers of enticement. Actions mimicking that of a predator watching its prey, he awaits for his window of opportunity to go on the offense. And you never seem to fail to walk right into the palm of his hand, today being no exception.

“Baby,” he breathes, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear.

Instant regret washes over you when the title of sentiment leaves his lips, all too knowing that this was the calm before the storm. And much like your previous endeavours, his actions following suit serves as your affirmation, your thoughts beginning to steer off course. With papers, books and the like strewn across the table, your body tenses when his hand finds your inner thigh, fingers tracing its length all the while dangerously making its ascent to the growing ache between your legs.

Pen in hand, your grip tightens when he finds the growing wet patch, cheeks immediately heating with embarrassment. Flesh tinging a pink hue, you clench your thighs together, attempting to suppress the flourishing heat behind the thin fabric and more importantly, to save whatever remained of your pride. However, all efforts go to waste when he spreads your legs further apart, your position working in his favour and to your disadvantage.

“You know the rules,” he growls.

Rules. The word hangs in the air at the brief recollection of the terms he was more than happy to share prior to the study session, one of which requires that you be seated on his lap. And despite your initial suspicions and the gruesome gut feeling of a hidden agenda, you give it no second thought upon the realization that anything less than an 85% on the test would be futile. Yet, at the pace and direction the lesson is going, studying would be an accomplishment in and that of itself.

“What’s the answer?”

His voice rings audibly in your ears and you have yet to make out the black texts displayed in front of you, the occasional grazing of his soft, plump lips steering your thoughts astray. Mind in chaos, your imagination begins to run its course, the vivid memories of naked, sweat covered bodies rubbing against each other augmenting the throbbing sensation between your legs.

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you bite down harder, the pain a much needed diversion from the heat working its way through your system. And with the momentary distraction, you regain the slightest bit of concentration, only then to have a single stroke shatter your efforts as a repressed moan escapes. The all too famous cocky smirk makes its appearance on his oh so tempting lips, his fingers continuing their delicious assault at your core and your body convulsing from the long, treacherous motions.

“If you don’t answer correctly, you’re not giving me much of a choice.”

What those words entail has your heart beating frantically in anticipation, the mere thought of the punishment in store amplifying the flames of your need. Lowering his mouth to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, he begins to work the flesh between his lips, until there is nothing but his masterpiece left to show. And in sweet conjuncture of the delectable sensation of his lips, he pushes your underwear to the side, the pads of his fingers making contact with your damp folds.

“Answer the next question.”

Any coherent thought is virtually non-existent, mind drawing a blank as the pleasurable rush shoots through you, occupying your every waking moment. Tongue glossing over your bottom lip, your eyes flutter shut as you immerse yourself with the breathtaking work of his hand.

“Baby…you need to concentrate.”

He continues his ever so languid movements, your fingers and toes curling as you try to remain still. Yet the delicate, slow and practiced strokes threaten your peace, his fingers teasing and coaxing each gasp and moan from partially parted lips.

“W-wait. Jimin…”

“If you want me to stop, you have to answer correctly.”

You lean forward, head almost in contact with the sheets sprawled in front of you, tongue slowly tracing over your bottom lip.

“You aren’t answering incorrectly on purpose are you?”

The words come out in a drawl, his lips curling into a lop sided smile as he watches you tremble under his divine touch. A touch so lethal that even the slightest brush has your skin burning like a thousand fires. Heart thudding against your ribcage, you try to attend to the inner voice screaming for you to focus, but your mind drifts off into the clouds as you lose yourself in the fleeting feather light touches running overtop your feverish skin.

“If you feel too much pleasure, you won’t want me to stop."

A sigh of pleasure, almost a whimper, escapes your lips, your inner goddess roused by the first contact of his fingers on your sensitive nub. Mind too preoccupied with the way his fingers find an easy rhythm, engrossed by the movements of his two digits gliding up and down the wetness already gathered, you feel the suspense rise to a dangerous high, each painstakingly delicious stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Stomach churning in anticipation, you release a shaky breath, awaiting and expecting the penetration of his fingers when a sudden wave of rejection washes over you from the unforeseen withdrawal.

Your heart sinks in disappointment, the denial of your release only proving to be another challenge as the throbbing and pulsating sensation between your legs intensifies. You begin stirring on his lap, grinding your ass against him to elicit even the slightest sexual drive, only then to feel swift hands on either side of your waist, grip tight as he ceases all movements, both yours and his.

"Baby, concentrate.”

“I can't…not when you touch me like that.”

You answer him seriously but soon come to the realization of how light he makes of the situation when a repressed laugh leaves his lips. Attempting to get off his lap, he splays a hand across your stomach to keep you rooted place, and you grumble inaudible words as you feel his body lightly shake, chuckling at your bold confession. Immediately dismissing the impending shame, you barely give your feelings of embarrassment a second thought as you sit convinced that he truly was a devil in disguise.

“Then how about we change the rules. How about a strip game?”

He gives your collarbone a gentle nip before pulling back, and you don’t need to turn back to see the suggestive smile plastered across his lips.

“A strip game?” you repeat skeptically.

“For every question you get right, I’ll remove a piece of clothing.”

“And if I get one wrong?”

“You will remove a piece of clothing…of my choice.”

You turn to face him, the look of doubt apparent.

“Why don’t I get to choose what you get to take off?”

“Baby, you’ll be naked before I have anything off.”

“I’ll have you in your boxers before my shirt and skirt are off,” you challenge.

He moves his hand from your hips to curve across your jaw, his fingers delicately lining the surface, and you can’t help the breathy sigh, the remnants of his touch fiery.

“And if you don’t?” he whispers, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

“I’ll let you do what you want.”

Your offer piques his interest, the familiar smirk painting over his lips exuding confidence all the while radiating the sweet, feint scent of danger.

“Anything I want?”

Before you have the chance to conclude that yes, this decision is completely and utterly stupid and that yes, you should have just kept your mouth shut instead of provoking him, he urges for you to stand up, hands ghosting over your sides as he leans down, lips leveling with your ears.

“Don’t regret those words.”

The way the words roll from his tongue prompts you to respond, but you find yourself unable to, the words lodged in your throat leaving you speechless. Internally screaming and mentally cursing yourself for practically handing him a ‘do whatever you want’ card on a silver platter, you try to remain calm amidst the exhilaration and panic sweeping through you, heart beating erratically from both the fear and thrill of what was yet to come. But it’s too late. Images of you bent over the desk with hands held closely behind your back, bound together by a leather belt flashes through your conscious mind, thoughts in chaos at the illustration.

“You have an hour to complete the practice exam.“

His words bring you back into existence, the fantasy short-lived as the thought is forcefully pushed to the back of your mind.

"And as tempted as you are to answer wrong on purpose… don’t.”

You roll your eyes at the comment, returning the smug grin with a mocking smile, trying to mask the uneasy, eerie feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach. And as you stand, seemingly confident yet uncertain, he gestures for you to take a seat, to which you are more than willing to comply, half a mind already diving into the complex world of economics while the other half dwells and longs for his touch.

Focus.

Averting your gaze to the booklet in front of you, your eye shifts to the flock of jet black in your periphery, easily drawing your attention away. A tad bit stunned and breathless at the sheer sight of confident strides making their way to the bed, each step bold, oozing sexy, and emanating the aromatic scent of a self-made man who is ready to ravish you any way he pleases, your vision becomes hazy at the memoir of his perfect sculpture flesh against yours.

“I’m looking forward to the strip show,” he grins.

Your heart is ready to leap out of your chest, the occasional brow raise coupled with subdued hums, which you make out to be disapproving ones, has you breaking out in cold sweat. Breathing at a halt with the turn of another page, you watch as furrowed brows mar his flawless complexion, no longer able to call upon the confidence you had just moments before. Unwelcome self-doubt begins to consume you with the flip of the last page, and all thoughts of him being at your mercy gone as his face contorts in discontent.

“W-what?” you stutter, expecting for a snide comment only to get nothing.

You send a questioning look his way, but he is as silent as he had been the entire hour you spent working on the booklet.

“Jimin?”

Wordlessly, he turns the chair around and you can’t help the lump in your throat, uncertainty washing over you as you watch him take a seat as if he’s ready for the show to start.

Back leaning against the backrest with legs moderately spread apart, he crosses his arms over his chest which does a generous amount of justice to his chiseled pecs, the sight of tense meat rippling beneath the cloth mouth-watering. And you have half a mind to rip it off yourself, but only entertain the idea for a split second, recalling how his muscles work under his skin when he removes it himself, every inch defined and appetizingly taut.

You stare in awe, the memorization kicking in as you allow yourself secret glances. How could he, clad in only light washed jeans and a plain white tee, raised just high enough to showcase his perfect abdominal v, look so irresistibly tempting? But he does, seemingly effortless and without fail. And you may or may not be guilty of letting your eyes freely run down the length of his torso, a fleeting sharp inhale ensuing at the sight of his oh so happy trail disappearing beneath the fabric.

Time momentarily at a standstill and bodies briefly frozen in place, you feel the intensifying magnitude of the breathy sighs that saturates the confines of his room, turned on simply at the view of his teeth working at his lower lip in thought. Eyes locking with the pair returning your stare, you capture every nuance of his expression, even the sheer flicker of hunger and the subtle twitch of his lips that try to suppress the urging smile.

"Take it off.”

You take notice of his tone, the sound a dangerous combination of dominance and trouble, which only serves to further amplify the looming hunger brewing in the pit of your stomach. Mind at an impasse, you begin calculating and mulling over your choices, well aware that you are at a disadvantage as unvoiced protests competing against erotic thoughts blur all logic and reason. And if his words were capable of rendering you helpless, the pair of heated eyes glazing the length of your body would be the source of your undoing, his gaze entrapping you in what seems to be a hypnotic trance.

“Shirt. Off. Now,” he commands.

Although brief, you pick up on the desire flashing across his eyes, merely milliseconds passing before he masks it with a sensuous smile, the curves painting his face removing the veil of secrecy.

The beast is finally unleashed…and he looks hungry.

Hands at your sides, you begin to play with the hem of your shirt, raising it ever so slightly, just enough for him to take a peek at the flesh beneath. His eyes expectant and narrowing at the exposure, you continue to lift the fabric at a turtle like pace, dragging out every second and using his hunger to your leverage. He lets out an impatient growl, cuing you that you are taking too sweet of a time, and it only makes you want to prolong and savor the moment of denying him of what he wants.

The eagerness within the pair of mesmerizing brown pearls has your skin burning ablaze, and for a fraction of a second you consider allowing him to rip your clothes off, the cocktail of emotions rushing through you obscuring all rationale. But you see it. The growing boner which betrays the calm, aloof expression he is sporting. And it fuels your resolve.

“Remove your shirt first.”

Carding his fingers through silk black strands, he lets out an exasperated sigh as he grows more and more restless.

“Babe-”

“Shirt. Off. Now,” you cut off, repeating the same words he uttered not even minutes ago.

He arches a brow, and you respond to the bemuse look with the release of your shirt, allowing it to fall back in place. If it’s a game he wants, a game he will get. And you have every intention of being the victor.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you continue to challenge his patience, pushing every boundary known to man. Riding the waves of the overwhelming rush of confidence, you watch each minute pass, becoming increasingly convinced with each flying second that he’ll cave in. Especially so at the sight of the declarative twitching of his hand, a habit you’ve come to know to be his way of suppressing an impulse. He’s itching to remove your clothes and the thought makes you shudder in anticipation.

“Well?” you urge him to answer.

And it takes him, only what seems to be an eternity to respond, finally breaking the silence that fills the void of the overtly sexually tense room.

“Fine,” he says, and your eyes sparkle for the briefest of moments, the glitter vanishing just as quickly as they formed.

“If I get to remove your clothes,” he adds.

And just like that the tables turn in his favor.

Wordlessly he gets up, and you take notice of the look in his eyes. Something dangerous flickers and your heart is beating frantically as he approaches you with dark hues. You try to hide the panic flashing across your eyes but he picks up on it, his lips already curling into a cocky smirk.

“I’m done playing games. I want you. Now.”

The once angel like face is gone, replaced by a fierce look of a predator locking onto his prey. A look so animalistic and thrillingly attractive that you feel your stomach churning in promise, suspense beginning to build in pure anticipation for what this night will bring. Adrenaline works its way through your system, your heart throbbing achingly for the man making his way towards you. Gaze zeroing in onto his ravening ones, each second seemingly extended with every step taken, you watch him make confident strides as he works to close the distance.

Teasingly provocative, he continues his walk, only choosing to stop when in front of you. And you almost let out a whine, hands apt to reach for him to bring him flesh against you when he deprives you of the contact your body is yearning for. But he immediately makes up for it, lifting his tee over his head, and dear god, you can’t help but marvel at the mouth-watering sculpture displayed before you. He truly is a sight to behold.

While he stands opposite of you in all his glory, you feel a compelling urge to touch him, the compulsion too strong for you to resist. Entirely consumed by the feverous haze, your body begins to move at its own will, like some unseeable force pulling you towards him. Inch by inch, centimeter by centimeter, the distance shortens, all movements ceasing when your palm presses flat against his chest. The immediate contact makes you internally wince from the scorching heat, his skin hot to the touch. Fuck he’s burning.

There is no hiding the interest in your eyes, and you know he shares the same sentiment when you feel the uncontrollable beating of his heart, the sound beating in unison with yours. Eyes mirroring the look from the pair of brown irises staring down at you, you absentmindedly begin to trace over the definition of taut muscles, only then taking notice of his hands when you feel them working the hem of your shirt.

“Your turn.”

With quick haste, he has your shirt over your head, the piece of clothing discarded somewhere you didn’t care to ponder or follow where, completely invested in the moment. He then pulls back to peer down at you, and what he sees leaves him a tad bit breathless. You stand there, chest heaving as you try to regain control over your breathing, your eyes mimicking the look in his eyes.

Your body stills under the scrutiny of his gaze, view fixated on the tongue that traces over his luscious bottom lip. And you can’t help but glaze over yours, mindlessly imitating his actions as you watch the very lips tempting you curl up into a knowing smile at the sight of your lust filled eyes.

“Prepare yourself,” he says, words barely audible. “I don’t plan on holding back.”

Before you have the chance to process his words, Jimin’s mouth is on yours, kissing you like he’s been deprived of oxygen for far too long and you’re the only source of air. Indulging in the sweet savory taste, mouth molding against his in almost perfect precision, you feel hungry hands tracing across your back, skimming over your hips and thighs to grab a lawless amount of your ass. A moan escapes your lips, and Jimin wastes no time in taking advantage of your opened lips, slipping in his tongue with ease.

Time passes slowly, seconds prolonged and seemingly exclusive as you lose yourselves in one another. You guide him, leisurely drawing him lower, and he willingly follows, allowing you to take the lead. Mouth scalding on his, you ghost fingertips along his shoulder blades, beginning your exploration of the vast expanse of his back. Touch light and teasingly so, you trace overtop the skin with the pads of your fingers, outlining the angry muscles beneath it. And it only takes him a mere two seconds to feel your nails scraping the surface, the sound he releases nothing short of a groan.

“Baby-”

You take a nip at his lower lip, pulling the flesh back until he is growling against your mouth and shit, the vibration easily sends a pulse to your core.

“Pants,” you demand.

But before he can utter a single word, your impatient hands begin to travel the length of his torso, fingers finding the light washed material you want nothing more than to take off. And you know very well he agrees as his impending erection hiding beneath it grows.

Lining the width of the fabric, you follow the waistband, inching closer towards his happy trail until the pads of your fingers make contact with the refreshing cool surface of metal against your blazing skin. Not even a second later, your hands nimbly undo his button while he works the zipper of your skirt, the pieces of clothing freely dropping onto the ground, pooling around your ankles and discarded much like the lesson that is supposed to be taught. But you give it no second thought, the vivid recollection of him making love to you leaving you in despair and desperate for something more than coasting touches.

And you know he shares the same disposition when he peers down at you, returning the small smile splayed over your lips with eyes hooded and raw with desire, longing and what seems to be a bottomless pit of hunger, a look entirely exclusive to you that no one is aware of its existence. Or rather, that he is capable of such an expression. But he is, the goody too shoes he guises to the public nowhere in sight.

He kicks off his pants and prompts you to curl your arms around his neck, and you do while his hands are dead set on a journey down your thighs. Upon reaching his destination, he lifts you with ease, and you wrap your legs around his waist without missing a beat, feeling his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as he bears the entirety of your weight.

Feet padding across the wooden floors that spans his room, he carries you the short distance from the center of the room to his bed. Expectant that he would lay you on the bed, you prepare for impact, only then realizing that there is a detour in store when he takes a seat instead of laying you down.

Legs on either side of him, you begin tugging at the waistband of his boxers, urging him to remove the cotton soft fabric, but his hand finds your wrist and you can’t help the small ping of rejection when he prevents you from going any further. You pull back, eyes searching his, but you can’t seem to read his expression.

When he remains silent, you make another attempt to get closer to him but his grip only tightens.

“What?” you ask, suppressing the disappointment and slight annoyance as you stare into the pair of brown irises in front of you for an answer.

However, he averts his gaze to the wall behind you, changing from hot and heavy to distant and indifferent in a blink of an eye.

“The agreement was a strip show. Not a tease show,” he says in a matter of fact tone.

You catch glimpse of the pout betraying his haughty attitude, unable to hide the childish grin splaying across your lips at the sight.

“I thought you said no more games?” you play.

He is quiet for a long moment, teeth working his lower lip in thought, mulling over his options no doubt. And as he attractively sits in deep thought, you feel his grip around your wrist loosen, a window of opportunity presenting itself. Tauntingly so, your hand makes its way to his bare chest, fingers tracing over the contours of his muscles as you lean further in, lips barely grazing his.

“How about…” you begin, inching closer, “you remove the rest yourself?”

Your proposal piques his interest, and you’re certain he’s already ridding you of what ever clothing remains from the way his eyes hover over your body, brows furrowing in concentration.

And there is just something about the way his eyes light up in promise when you give the okay to strip you that has you somehow even more turned on, the mere expectation of all the things he can, and will do to you sending waves of pleasure to your core.

“So?” you push.

The sight of his jaw working under his skin has your inner goddess smirking triumphantly as he falls victim to the bait, the flare of fire in his brown eyes making you shiver in anticipation. His gaze trails down the length of your body, leaving behind a hot trail as his eyes becomes fixated on the growing wet patch pooling between your legs. And the instant his eyes make contact, you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to clench your knees shut to quell the dripping from your hidden folds.

“So wet already?” he teases, a small smile curving his lips.

You shift under the scrutiny of his gaze, causing him to draw in a sharp breath when you brush against his sensitive tip.

“Fuck,” he growls.

And you make another attempt to move, but he holds your hips in place.

“You’re really trying to push my limits today aren’t you?”

“That obvious?” you reply, teeth digging into your bottom lip sultrily.

“You’ll regret tempting me,” he warns, his hand already making its way up the expanse of your exposed back.

Leaning further into him, you press your chest against his, and he catches you, grip still firm on your hips. You look to him with a mischievous smile, carefully placing your fingertips over his lips and tracing their shape.

“Try me,” you provoke.

Although feint, you can see the subtle lop sided smirk painting his perfectly plump lips. Tongue glossing over the bottom pair, his hand begins its work at the clasps, unhooking them with ease. You feel the fabric loosen slightly, and he’s already leaning back, eyes deep with desire as he awaits the slow unveiling of your breasts. Under normal circumstances, you’d be more than willing to oblige, letting it fall, the piece of clothing stripping you down to all your dangerous, forbidden lusts. A temptress he’d call you, his hands apt to caress and massage over your breasts. To have his tongue gloss and swirl around the sensitive nub. And to have you writhe in pleasure from the nerve wrecking nips as he takes a lawless bite, teeth penetrating skin as he indulges in what he describes to be the perfect blend of soft yet deliciously so firm peaches.

And just as he catches glimpse of your areola, you abruptly cup his face between your hands, seizing his lips in a hot kiss as the black laced material pools around your waist. You hear him mumble inaudibly against your lips, well aware of a protest, but you take it all in, lips coaxing, nibbling and whispering against his. He groans, unable to hide his satisfaction, and there it is. The smile you feel against your lips.

His tongue demands entry and you let him in, your body answering whatever he demands, all thoughts of denial absent. Hands hungrily running along your sides, a gasp escapes your lips at the mere brush of his thumb on your nipple, the sensation sending flutters of pleasure through you. Shivering under his touch, you feel his muscles shift under you, another gasp escaping your lips at the briefest seconds of being airborne.

With a thud, you land on the bed, back resting on the mattress and your heart rate picking up pace.

“You’ve been warned.”

Your gaze meets his, and you can’t help but salivate at the sight. Desire is thick in his eyes, and damn, his body was like that of a god. Is like a god, made of contour and muscles – sculpted to perfection. He moves and you lay there speechless, watching every ripple of muscle as he hooks a finger into the waistband of your underwear, raising your leg and removing the only piece of clothing that has kept your lustful demons at bay. Seductively tracing his lower lip with his tongue as he lowers your leg, he begins to lean down, gaze zeroing in.

“You won’t have to worry about passing…”

Something flashes in his eyes. Alarm bells should have set off, but there was none. All you could hear is the pounding of your heart, your need blinding.

“You won’t even make it to class…at least not after tonight.”

Holding your gaze, never once faltering, he continues his descent lower, just enough so that your lips are hair width apart. It took every ounce of self control, your hand itching to snake around his neck and draw him towards you, the throbbing ache between your legs magnifying. Fuck. I want him. I want him now.

Eyes piercing through you, he patiently waits for the sheer flicker of amorous longing. And when he catches the glimmer of lust, the corner of his mouth curves up and that’s when realization hit.

This was really the calm before the storm.

In a split second – in one swift motion – his mouth is on yours, swallowing the gasp that follows when his hand finds your breast, cupping them in one hand, while the other on your hips, pulling you further into him. Shit. Sliding your hand around his neck and into his hair, you grab a fistful, taking a firm hold and ever so slightly tugging on the strands. He lets out a growl, and the reverberations sends out a shooting pleasure.

“Jimin,” you wrench out, practically panting.

You can feel him smiling as he buries himself into the side of your neck, his lips nibbling at your naked shoulder, sucking the flesh and leaving at its wake his work of art. Fingers digging into his shoulders, you roll your head to the side, allowing him better access, to which he shows no hesitation, his tongue continuing to ravish its surface.

Fuck. You wanted him in you, then and there.

Still holding you onto him, skin pressing against skin, his one hand continues to cup your breast firmly, all the while the other beginning to approach the ache between your legs. You buck your hips, desperate for contact, and when you feel his hand at your folds, a soft sigh leaves your lips, a shudder ripping through you. Teasingly so, the pads of his fingers begin to work your lower lips, steadily gliding up and down along it’s length.

As you lose yourself from his touch, you feel a growing pressure at your entrance. With no warning, he dips a finger inside. Then a second. You suck in a breath at the intrusion, goosebumps breaking out as he finds a steady rhythm. In then out. Then back in. With every thrust in, his fingers pushes further inside of you, deliciously curling and stretching you out.

Head rolling back from the heart stopping ministrations, he continues his enticing assault at your core, building a steady and painstakingly slow tempo. But you needed it faster. Harder. Hand falling over his, you urge him to go faster, feeling the build.

“Jimin.”

You’re practically begging.

“More,” you rasp out.

“More?”

You hear the thick lust in his voice and you are nearing combustion. And you know he is just as close to the edge, barely holding himself back as his hips move against you harder. Faster. The desire is almost near blinding, everything around you completely lost amidst the pleasure. Your focus is entirely on him. At how he would soon be inside you. You could feel him. Feel him through his boxers and fuck, you feel a pulse at your core at the friction.

Pulling his hand from between your legs, a withdrawal like surge crashes over you as you lay panting achingly from the sudden emptiness. Gritting your teeth in resentment, you prop yourself onto your elbows, eyes locking with his.

He dips down, gaze ghosting over your lips.

“What’s the magic word?” he asks, tone taunting.

“Now,” you breathe.

Eyes falling onto his lips, you snake a hand behind his neck, drawing him down in hopes of closing the little distance that remains. Lips just grazing his, he retreats, and you find yourself growling in frustration when he denies you the contact you’re longing for.

“Please,” you whimper.

He chuckles, nipping the corner of your lips.

“Spread’em.”

Falling back onto the mattress, you do as he says, your legs fanning open. He holds himself over you, lowering himself to plant a soft peck against your lips. Then your jawline. Then the side of your neck. Then your collarbone. There is no rush in his movements, every second being drawn out as he travels down the length of your body, at a painstakingly slow, sensuous pace. Then you feel the press of his lips at the valley between your breasts. Then the area just above your navel before he disappears between your legs. Then there it is. The long-awaited puff of air at your core.

Oh my.

Breath and temperature hot like fire, you close your eyes, relishing and welcoming the breeze as you wait in anticipation. And it only takes what seems to be the longest, torturous minute of complete silence before you feel the mattress dip under his weight. Then slick. You feel his hand at your folds, continuing their previous endeavors. Up and down. He slides his fingers along its length, and you could feel yourself nearly tipping over the edge.

And then he pulls back, leaving you in desolation.

“Jimin,” you say through clenched teeth, hands grabbing a fistful of his sheets in frustration.

He chuckles, his grin turning wolfish. “I want you screaming my name all night.”

You lift your head, trying to concentrate. But instead, you feel the ache rise, finding yourself drowning further into the haze of pounding desire. He lifts heated eyes on you and you can see the lust swimming in its depths. There is no hiding it. He wants everything you do. All the push and pull is to see who could hold out longer. Who could make the other break first. And if you’ve learned anything from your previous escapades, you’re well aware that he’s well versed with reservation and control.

Bending down, he presses a kiss on the flesh just above your heat, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you suppress the threatening moan. Slowly lowering himself, gaze locking onto the space between your legs, you suck in a sharp breath as he slides a finger in. Then he pauses once before going in deeper. Goddamn. He pushes a second finger inside. And then a third, stroking in and out, starting a rhythm. As you lay, gasping for air, waves of pleasure shoots through you, spreading to every inch of your body. And you can’t help but relish the euphoric sensation, feeling your high build yet again.

A cry escapes your lips, your back arching from the hard penetration, his fingers ramming into you with more force. In and then back out and then in again. Small whines pass through parted lips as you lose yourself, entirely immersed by the waves of pleasure washing over you. Rapt by the rush, you lace your fingers through his hair, pleading for more as your hips move in rhythm, meeting him with every thrust. You’re practically riding his hand, reveling in his caress as he reaches depths you never thought possible.

Shit.

Relentless, his fingers continue their delicious assault at your sex, and dear god, you’re on the brink of insanity as all thoughts obscure from his touch. And then you feel it. Your climax ripping through you.

Heaving for air, body limp and still shaking, he pulls his fingers out, licking off the residue. Standing up, he removes the only piece of clothing left, shoving his boxers down and tossing them off to side. You haven’t even had the time to register his absence, his hands at your thighs and spreading them wide – the night is far from over. And in one smooth movement, he drives deep inside, impaling you in the next second.

Finally.

He nuzzles along your jawline, a delicious shiver rushing through you as his breath caresses your skin. You allow your eyes to close, welcoming the familiar heat. Head drawn back, he begins trailing kisses down your throat, leaving behind a blazing hot trail at every contact made. Continuing his journey downwards, he finds the dip between your breasts, lingering long enough to have you all hot and bothered, before letting out a low growl and lifting back up to meet your lips. You sigh in contentment as his mouth moves over yours, relishing the sweet press and release of his lips.

And then he begins to move. You pause for a beat before moving with him, jerking your hips to meet him with each thrust. Fingers trickling the surface of your cheek, your eyes flicker open, your gaze immediately meeting his. He peers down through lidded eyes, the stark need for you lucid in their depths. It’s as clear as night and day, and the intensity renders you speechless, the depths of his eyes smoldering with desire. A look you are certain mirrors yours.

“Jim-”

He consumes the remainder of his name, his tongue prompting your lips to part. Without missing a beat, you do so, allowing him entry. The muscle sweeps against yours in one fluid motion, and you can’t help the shiver as he takes claim. He’s giving you a taste of what is yours, as you give him a taste of what is his. Mine. The word is left unspoken, but the message is loud and clear.

Continuing to roll his hips, he pushes farther into you, going deep. The harder he went, the more you would unravel for him, your thoughts dissipating into gasps mixed with pleasure filled moans. Writhing with pleasure beneath him, he swallows your cries of bliss, tongue meeting and tangling with yours – commanding your mouth.

He’s hungrier than normal, as though being deprived the unity he craves. As he draws out every breath, you can feel yourself becoming breathless, your chest tightening from the lack of air. Turning your head to the side, you try to catch a breath, but instead, a sharp inhale ensues as his teeth sinks into the flesh of the side of your neck. Mouth parted slightly, a moan escapes at the opportunity, the pain immediately dissolving as his tongue traces over the indentations, licking fire overtop your skin. And you revel in the sensation as you are being pushed further to the edge.

I want more. I need more.

He holds still for a second, and you remain lying there panting. You want to reach for him and pull him back onto you, wanting nothing more than to feel his full weight on you. You pull at his hold on your wrist, but he holds you, hands still pinned above you. And just as you open your mouth to protest, your mouth immediately shuts close while your heart threatens to stop beating at the sight of him watching you.

His eyes smoldered, gazing back into yours. And you feel the full force of his stare as he strips you bare, seeing and reading into your thoughts and soul as though an open book. The primal part of you wants to run as a predatory look takes over his features, but a strange flicker of excitement fills you. Still inside, sheathed inside you, he lets out a grunt as you squirm under the scrutiny of his gaze.

Grip tightening around your wrists held above you, his free hand begins traveling down your sides, the pads of his fingers setting your skin aflame. Once anchoring you in place, hand gripping your hips, he draws back and slams into you with more force. Your back arches on impact. Breast lifting for him, he takes one into his mouth, devouring it, sweeping his tongue around the nipple, flicking it and teasing it. And he couldn’t help but take a bite, asserting just the right amount of pressure with his teeth which has sparks of pleasure rippling through you.

Then his thrusts are harder. Rougher. Relentless, he went in as far as possible, waking up the senses of your body as he hit the spot that has you gasping for air. Bent over you, he falls forward, face burrowing in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and you could hear him breath, pant, and grunt, the sounds drowning out your gasps and moans as he pounds into you in a god-like pace. The harder he moves. The deeper he went, the more you wanted to match him, thrust for thrust. And you did, lifting your body up, pressing all of your body up against him. Both slick from sweat, you seamlessly move together, easily gliding against one another.

Toes digging into the mattress, you grasp onto his shoulder tighter, nails breaking flesh and leaving at it’s wake crescent shapes that grace his shoulder blades. Losing yourself in ecstasy, you feel the pleasure consuming you with every forceful slam. Devouring you as he fills you. And you feel it building. You are at the cusps of your second orgasm and god, yes. His thumb finds your clit, his movement ruthless as his pace quickens. Hands raking down his back, you tighten your legs around him, bringing him even closer against you. And you can’t help but let out a soft sigh at the contact.

Skin on skin, bodies pressing and rubbing against each other, you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. Like a breathtaking fever, his feverous touch has your body scorching in flames, your body burning like a thousand fires.

The sensations are building. You are at the edge, simply hanging on a fine thread as he continues rearing into you. You want him to go faster. You want to feel the high and ride it.

Fuck. You are going to come. You can feel it.

In the next second, a shrill cry escapes your lips as spasms of pleasure join into one sensuous, long momentous ride. And you ride it out as he continues to chase his own high. You feel his body tense, and you know he is right with you when you feel his expansion filling you to extremes, before he loads you with hot come.

Wave after wave crashes into you, your orgasm swarming your body like a shockwave. Body trembling from your second climax, he holds himself over you and you feel beads of his sweat dropping onto the surface of your skin, the droplet momentarily extinguishing the heat engulfing you. He drops next to you, and you look through lidded eyes, unable to resist drinking in his features. As you lay beside him, gaze laser focused on his lower lip, he dips in for another kiss – it’s slower this time, reverberating a softness that contrasts the lust-filled indulgence just moments before.

“Shit,” you murmur.

A lazy smile adorns his face, a hand going to your hip and rubbing circles as you both catch your breath. Body tingling with awareness, you can already feel a yearning for him build as your body begins to react from the subtle, innocent ministrations. Clamping your knees together, you try to suppress the need throbbing between your legs.

“Round three? Already?” he teases, and you reach for the pillow, covering your face. But he catches the surge of colour on your cheeks.

“On a scale from one to ten, how screwed am I for tomorrow?”

He waits a beat before answering. “A solid ten.”

You let out a low groan. Taking a secretive glance behind the pillow, you can see the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin.

“How badly did I do on the practice midterm?”

“Not bad. You aced it.”

“What?!”

You shoot up from the bed, sitting up.

“Nice view,” he says with a low wolf whistle at the sight of your full and erect breasts.

Rolling your eyes, you grab his blanket and wrap it around you.

“What’s the point in hiding? I’ve already seen….and tasted everything.”

Your glare is gone just as quickly as it came, the familiar heat yet again pooling between your legs as images of the last hour flashes in your mind.

“So what was the point in all of this?” you gesture before crossing your arms over your chest.

He bites out a laugh before planting a kiss to your mouth. “A reward and punishment all in one.”

“Screw you.”

He’s now sporting a full-blown grin. “You just did.”

You roll your eyes, turning your back on him.

“I’m going to get you back,” you say with resolve, bending down to pick up his shirt.

Slipping into his white tee, half expecting an annoying retort, you’re left wondering why he’s silent. Turning around, your breath hitches when you catch the desire in his depths, his eyes darkening once again as he takes in the sight of you.

“Round three?”

You shoot him an incredulous look as he taps his bed.

“You do realize that I have to be up in less than 6 hours right?”

“I am aware,” he says as he rises up to his elbow.

He’s already undressing you, by the way his eyes are raking up and down the length of your body. Giving him a wary glance, you cross your arms over your chest to shelter yourself from the weight of his stare, but the intensity of his gaze amplifies when his shirt raises ever so slightly just above your sex.

In one fluid motion, he’s off the bed and in front of you. You had a second to realize what he’s doing as his one hand wraps around your waist, drawing you towards him so that your body is pressed right against his, while the other caresses your chin, lifting it up so that you’re forced to look up.

Your gaze meets his, and you can see the corner of his lips curve up into a smirk, before he dips down, his lips nipping at yours. You let out a soft sigh at the contact.

“All you have to say is you don’t want to and I’ll stop.”

He continues rubbing his thumb at your hips, the pads of his fingers tracing circles overtop your flesh. Warmth and a frenzy of desire washes over you from the touch, the need to feel him starting to build up again. And in a matter of seconds, you know the throbbing between your legs will obscure all thoughts, which only leaves you with really only one option –

“I hate you,” you say, eyes fluttering shut in defeat.

#jimin smut #jimin scenario #bts smut #bts scenario #bts imagines #jimin imagines #fanfic #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin fluff #kpop scenario #kpop smut #kpop fluff #like why was it deleted?

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5hfanfiction · 6 years

Text

Trainwreck (Chapter 4)

Trigger Warning: Violence, drug abuse

…

Camila is currently on her private jet, boredly flipping through a fashion magazine as she devours the mouth watering hamburger in front of her, made personally by her celebrity chef on board. She has on her favorite pair of Beats Headphones, which costs a fortune by the way, an oversized thrasher hoodie, ridiculously expensive white Gucci sneakers covered in diamonds, and a pair of jeans so tight that the young pop star can literally feel her balls suffocating.

Camila shifts awkwardly in her seat, subtly adjusting herself, and sighs. This day can’t possibly get any worse. First, she woke up with an excruciating hang over due to the large amount of alcohol she consumed the night before in a failed attempt to get rid of the stress of returning back to her hometown. Then, her psychotic ‘girlfriend’ came over, unannounced might she add, and gave her a long ass, completely unnecessary lecture instead of keeping her mouth shut and fucking her like she usually does.

Although it may not seem too obvious at times, Camila does care for Ariana—a little. She’s not completely heartless, at least that’s what she tells herself. What’s not to like? Ariana is beautiful, generous, and talented. And, the fact that she's amazing in bed is another plus.

But the fact of the mater is that Camila wants a girlfriend, not a second mother. She can’t handle the nagging and the constant arguing because even though she’s a year younger than the Italian singer, she absolutely hates being treated like a child.

People in her life are always controlling her. They tell her when to wake up, when to eat, when to leave her house, when to go to sleep, and the list goes on. She has enough on her plate as it is as one of the biggest celebrities in the world. And the truth is, Camila misses just being a normal kid more than anything. She misses the times when she could walk around without the fear of being recognized and trampled by fans. She misses the days when she couldn’t be forced in a relationship she doesn’t want to be in and could actually be happy with the girl she loves. But most of all, she misses the days when she could just sleep in, not having to worry about pleasing her fans, the label executives, and ugh, her mother.

Just the thought of her overbearing mother causes Camila to roll her eyes in annoyance. Why the hell is she always ten inches up my ass?!? she thinks to herself. Camila knows that her mother loves her and genuinely thinks that she does what she thinks is best, but after a certain point, the love can quickly become overwhelming.

Camila’s thoughts are interrupted when she notices her mother set the iPad that is literally always glued to her hands down on her seat. She gulps, suddenly feeling nervous, when she sees the older woman beginning to stand up.

Oh fuck, she’s coming, Camila says in her head dreadfully. Maybe if I look back down at the magazine, she’ll decide to ignore—

“Karla! Karla, can you hear me?”

Camila rolls her eyes at sound of her mother calling her by her first name. She knows that she prefers to go by Camila, but yet, every goddamn time that her mother calls her, which is annoyingly often, she always seems to forget.

“For God sakes, Mother! I can fucking hear you. I don’t even have any music playing.”

Sinu huffs, offended by the way her daughter has just spoken to her. If they weren’t currently surrounded by staff, she would take of her chancla and teach her spoiled brat a lesson.

“I would appreciate if you didn’t use that tone with me,” she snaps, pushing her glasses up her nose and smoothing down her skirt. When Sinu takes a moment to look her daughter up and down, she scrunches up her nose. From her unruly hair and the grease dripping down her chin, thanks to her delicious looking hamburger, to her outfit, her daughter looks far from the biggest pop star in the world. “And must you dress like such a hoodlum? Karla, you know how I feel about your uh… masculine tastes.”

“This 'hoodlum’ outfit costs more than your annual salary before I so kindly hired you as my manager. Don’t forget that,” Camila snaps. How long was this airplane ride anyway? If she’s forced to spend another moment with her mother, she’ll literally rip her hair out.

Sinu decides to ignore Camila’s rude comment for the sake of the staff that look like they are about to gauge their own eyes out from their incessant arguing. Instead, she grabs a couple of napkins from the small table in front of her and gently wipes the grease off of Camila’s face. When the younger girl whines and tries to pull away, Sinu grabs her by the chin and says, “Can you stay still for one second?”

Camila crosses her arms over her chest, accepting defeat. She reluctantly stays still as her mother tries tidying up her hair, but at this point, it’s a lost cause. She has Ariana to blame for that.

“How long until we land?” the younger Latina asks impatiently.

Sinu pushes up the sleeve of her expensive blazer to check the time on her clearly outdated watch. “We should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank God. I need to get off this fucking plane,” she responds dramatically, throwing her head back against the small window behind her. Camila winces and rubs the back of her head, realizing that she probably should’ve taken the hard glass behind her into account.

Perfect. Now I can add that to the list of terrible things that have happened to me today.

“Don’t worry, Karla. You’ll be home with you father soon. Meanwhile, I have to worry about flying back to L.A,” she says disdainfully. “I’m going to be stuck on this plane all day.”

Camila gasps and feels her heart stop at her mother’s words. Her palms suddenly feel sweaty and she starts finding it hard to breathe.

No. This can't be.

“Wait,” she says tentatively. “You’re not staying in Miami with me? You’re expecting me to stay with Dad by myself?”

Sinu is genuinely shocked at Camila’s reaction. This entire time, she had thought that her daughter would be relieved that she was staying across the country.

“Yes, Karla. This was the plan all along, wasn’t it?”

Suddenly, Camila feels her blood run cold. Is her mother fucking insane?!? Does she suddenly have extreme memory loss?!?

“Then why did you come on the plane in the first place?”

“Because I know how nervous you are about going to Miami. I wanted to support you.”

Camila ignores her mother’s statement, sweet as it is.

“You can't leave me alone with him, Mom.”

“Why not?”

“You know why!” she responds tearfully. “Please, I am begging you, do not leave me alone with that man!”

“That man is your father, Karla. And you will treat him as such.”

“Mami—”

“End of discussion! When you get off this plane, your spoiled ass is going straight to your father’s house!” Sinu exclaims. Her eyes are bugging out of her head at this point and her face is beet red. She takes a few moments to calm herself down before she continues with, “What is wrong with you? Why don’t you want to see him? You haven’t seen him or your sister in months.”

Camila quickly wipes at her tears and distances herself from her mother as much as she can on the small couch they are sitting on. She can’t believe her mother is actually leaving her in Miami to fend for herself. Who will protect her? Who will be there for her when she gets out of control?

“You know what? Forget it,” she responds while shaking her head. “Just get me off this stupid plane before I go fucking ballistic.”

Sinu senses that Camila still has something to say, but she decides to drop it. After the stunt her daughter pulled, the older woman knows that she can’t risk coming off as soft. She needs to stand her ground and play the role of a responsible parent that can properly discipline her kids.

It’s a few more minutes before the plane lands safety at the Miami International Airport. Camila doesn’t wait a single moment before grabbing all of her luggage, not even saying goodbye to her mother, and hopping off the plane.

Thankfully, her trusted bodyguards, Big Rob and Dwayne, are at her side. Because as soon as she makes her way to the passage that was supposed to be kept secret that leads to her black van meant to take her to her father’s house, she is suddenly surrounded by screaming fans.

And no, she’s not just surrounded by a a few dozen of them. As she struggles to make her way through the airport, hundreds of horny teenage girls and boys crowd around her, yelling her name, taking pictures, and begging for her autograph.

“Camila, I love you!”

“Camila, you’re so hot!”

“Camila, follow me on twitter!”

Although the constant praise she receives whenever she’s in public used to make Camila smile, the young pop star feels that she can no longer stand the sound of people demanding things from her. She should feel grateful for all the love the people currently blocking her van are giving her, but right now, the only true thing they’re giving her is a massive migraine.

But, the people Camila Cabello truly hates are the paparazzi. Ugh, fucking assholes.

“Hey Camila! How many whores are you gonna fuck in Miami? Is is true you’re cheating on Ariana Grande?” one of the paparazzo shout.

“Camila! How could you be dumb enough to participate in illegal street-racing? Did your father not raise you right?”

Camila grits her teeth at that last comment, resisting the urge to grab the dickhead’s camera and smash it to the ground. She’s done that in the past and she really doesn’t need to add another lawsuit to her belt, especially after the whole street-racing incident.

Overwhelmed by the feeling of bright lights flashing in her eyes, Camila reaches into the small backpack resting on her shoulders for her darkest pair of sunglasses. Ah much better, shethinks to herself as she puts them on.

After a long struggle and the help of her bodyguards, Camila is finally able to make it safely inside the van. However, before she is able to pull up her tinted window and leave the crowded airport, a letter from a fan manages to find its way inside. Without even bothering to look at it, Camila rolls her eyes and immediately tosses it out of the vehicle. She hears a few gasps from the fans, but she ignores them and immediately orders her chauffeur to get them the hell out of there.

…

“Do you need us to wait out here for you?”

“No, Dwayne. You can tell the guy driving my car to leave it here and get in the van with you guys,” Camila responds. “Besides, I’m staying with my Dad my entire time here. You can all go home.”

“Thank you, Ms. Cabello,” Dwayne and Big Rob answer simultaneously.

Camila gives them a quick nod before hopping out of the car, all of her luggage in tow. The pop star frowns as she watches the van drive off, realizing that this is it. She's really back in Miami and she's really staying with her father.

God help me.

Camila is filled with a sense of dread as as she makes her way to the porch of the house she grew up in. The house is quite small, only two stories high, and is probably the most ordinary home in Miami. The grass is green, perfectly clipped, and littered with various fruits and vegetables, planted by her father.

Camila smiles as she takes a peek of what she can see in the backyard where she spent so much time as a child. In it resides a big slide, a swing set and a barely noticeable sandbox, where she notices that the feet of a few Barbie dolls are sticking out of the sand. The young pop star chuckles. Typical Sofi.

When Camila makes her way back to the front of the house, a grimace immediately takes over her entire face. On one of the windows is a big sign reading: BLUE LIVES MATTER. It’s so typical of her father, him being a cop and a staunch republican. Ew.

A few seconds later, Camila is finally standing in front of the door of her childhood home. For the second time that day, her palms are sweaty, her mouthy is dry, and she can’t stop shaking.

Get a hold of yourself, you pussy, and open that door! she says to herself.

Ok. She’s gonna do it. She’s really gonna knock on the door. Camila takes a few deep breaths and finally:

*Knock Knock*

Ok one step down, one to go. All she needs to do now is wait for—

Camila is startled by the sound of her father roughly opening the front door. She immediately takes a few steps back to avoid another head injury.

It’s then that Alejandro Cabello emerges from the house, beer in hand and a permanent scowl etched on his face. It’s clear that he’s only just come home from work as he’s still in his uniform and has yet to take of his pants to lounge in front of the television in his boxers like he usually does. Camila gulps, intimidated by her father’s harsh stare. Damn if looks could kill…

“H-hi Dad,” she finally finds the courage to say. Her father clearly wasn’t going to be the one to start the conversation, so she figured, why not?

“What are you doing here,” Alejandro answers gruffly. If he’s tying to hide the fact that he doesn’t want to see his daughter, he’s definitely not doing a good job at at.

Camila clears her throat nervously, uncomfortable under his gaze. She hasn’t seen him in months and this is how he welcomes her?

“Um… you didn’t hear? Mom’s forcing me to stay here with you guys for a couple of months. I’m going back to high—”

“Staying here? Like hell you are,” Alejandro huffs, folding his arms across his chest causing a bit of his beer to spill over.

“What do you mean 'like hell you are?’ Where am I supposed to go?”

When her father doesn’t answer her, continuing to stare her down, Camila asks, “Look, can I come inside? I’m burning up out here.” Even at night, the Miami heat is unbearable. The young pop star feels like she’s on the verge of passing out.

Surprisingly, her father moves aside and allows his daughter to enter the home. The house looks the exact same way it did before Camila left for her world tour. While most people would find comfort in that, the young Latina doesn’t. It just shows her that absolutely nothing has changed, and that scares the crap out of her.

The kitchen is relatively clean, except for the few beer bottles that litter the counter. A quick glance at the stove tells Camila that her dad is boiling some pasta, the only food he knows how to cook. Well, that explains all of the empty takeout boxes practically spilling out of the garbage can.

Camila walks to the fridge and smiles as she observes all of the pictures stuck to it with little magnets. She sees a picture she’s never seen of Sofi in what she assumes is her first day of school and a cute old photo of her parents. However, her smile disappears when she realizes that all of the photos with her in them are gone.

She’s either been cut out of the pictures with the use of a scissor, made obvious by the jagged edges on many of the photos, or had pictures of her taken off the fridge altogether.

Camila sniffles as tears begin to sting her eyes. Coming here was a mistake; she can feel it in her bones.

Camila is startled by the sound of her father’s booming voice once again. She had not expected him to be so close.

“I don’t care where you go as long as it’s as far away from here as possible. Why don’t you go to that penthouse you wasted so much of your money on?”

Alejandro’s words sting a lot more than they should. It seems like whatever Camila does, she’s never good enough for her father.

“B-but I bought that house for you and Sofi. We were all supposed to move in months ago—

"We don't need your money,” he interrupts. “And we certainly don’t need you.”

“Dad…”

Although expected, the harsh words that stumble out of Alejandro’s mouth next rock Camila to her core.

“I need you to leave this place and never come back.”

“What? Why?”

“You go months without visiting your family and expect a warm welcome?” he responds menacingly. “Well you are not going to get one!”

“Dad, I’ve been on tour all over the world. And I’ve been recording my album—”

“I don’t give a damn about what you’ve been doing! You were here for a show just last month. But instead of coming home to see your little sister, you decided to whore yourself around at a club!”

“I…” Camila begins, realizing her mistake. 'I’m sorry.“

"Save your apologies!” he exclaims so loudly that his voice reverberates around the entire house. Camila prays that the neighbors didn’t hear that. “You’re a bad influence on Sofia and I don’t want you anywhere near her. I will not let you poison her with your lifestyle!”

“Dad, she’s my baby sister. P-please. I need to see her. I feel like she barely knows who I am.”

“Maybe that’s for the best. Do you have any idea how much of a disappointment you’ve been, Karla? Having sexual relations with women, taking drugs, spending all your money on a bunch of useless crap you don’t need! And let’s not forget about that atrocity between your legs.”

Camila knows that she’s made a lot of mistakes since she rose to fame just four years ago. She acknowledges that at most times, she’s a dick. She acknowledges that despite this, she often doesn’t feel guilty about her attitude.

But her father’s hatred towards her runs so much deeper than his disappointment for all of her mistakes. No, her father has always hated her, no matter what she’s done to make him happy. She would study her ass off and get the best grades in school, she would clean the entire house without being asked to, she would get him extravagant Father’s Day gifts, even when she had no money, just to try to make him smile. But it was never enough.

Camila knows that she’ll never win her father’s love that she so desperately craves. He will never accept her because of her sexuality and the deformity between her legs. She’s a monster in his eyes, and he’s always made that very clear.

“Dad, I know that you hate me but—”

“Oh, I more than hate you, Karla. I loathe you. I’ve loathed you since the day you were born and I’ll loathe you until the day you die. Your mother should’ve gotten that abortion when she had the chance.”

Camila’s mother gave birth to her at a young age, back when she still lived in Cuba in poverty. But Camila never considered the fact that her parents wanted to get rid of her at some point. Her parents never wanted her. No one does.

“P-please. Stop—”

“I want you out of this house. Now.”

“I’m not leaving until I see Sofi. Please, just tell me where she is!”

But before Camila has another second to think, she’s suddenly overwhelmed by the harsh pain of her father slapping her right across the face. She gasps, grasping her stinging cheek before falling to the ground.

Alejandro doesn’t stop there. He delivers a few kicks to his daughter’s stomach, ignoring the way she howls in pain, before climbing on top of her and punching her in the face a few times, leaving her bloody and bruised.

“D-Dad! Stop, please! I-I’m begging you! Stop!”

But he doesn’t stop. He stands up again, pulling his daughter’s legs apart, making room for his target. He smirks, proud of the damage he’s just done to his child, before delivering one last kick with all of his might— right to Camila’s crotch.

Camila doubles over in pain and lets out a heart wrenching cry before immediately reaching to cradle her genitals in agony. The tears don’t stop streaming down her face. She feels her heart literally break in two when she looks up to see her father staring down at her— smiling. He’s clearly satisfied with what he’s just done.

“Not so strong when your mother’s not here to defend you, are you?”

Instead of answering him, Camila let’s out another whimper of pain. Her body trembles in fear as her father leans down to take a hold of the collar of her sweatshirt, his grip suffocating.

“Now get out! You are no daughter of mine. Next time you come back here, I won’t be so easy on you,” he says as he continues tightening his hold on the pop star’s sweater. Alejandro can almost see the life draining out of Camila’s eyes as he squeezes, and for a moment, he’s tempted to squeeze even harder. But then, he decides that as a cop, it wouldn’t be wise to kill the teenager. He’ll let her go, for now.

As soon as her father loosens his grip, his breath still hot on Camila’s face, the young Latina immediately scrambles up with all the strength she has left runs out the front door. She stops and takes one last look at her small, two-story home, realizing that she’ll probably never see it again.

Tears burn her eyes when she realizes that, even worse, she’ll never see her little sister again. She’ll never get to hold her tiny hand as they walk down the street. She’ll never get to snuggle up with her on a cold winter’s night, each of them holding a large mug of hot chocolate, as they watch Disney movies together. She’ll never get to tuck her sister in her adorable princess sheets and read her her favorite bed time story after a long day of playing in the backyard. And finally, she’ll never be able to look into her beautiful brown eyes again, so similar to her own, and realize that she has a person that’s truly there for her, a person that is unaware of all the past mistakes she’s made and loves her unconditionally.

When Camila finally makes it safely to her car that someone on her team left outside for her, she locks herself inside and repeatedly pounds her head against the steering wheel before drowning herself in her own tears. She cries and cries until she has no more tears to shed and reluctantly starts her car.

When she arrives at the penthouse that she originally purchased for her father and sister, Camila is tempted to cry again until she remembers that she’s already cried herself out completely.

Camila’s Miami Penthouse

As Camila steps inside, she thinks of how luckily, she had already furnished the home as a favor to her father, so she’ll at least have some furniture to sleep on tonight. However, sleep is definitely not on Camila’s itinerary tonight.

The first thing she does when she walks in is take a seat at the bar she has installed in her living room. She reaches into her backpack that has been on her shoulders all day and extracts a large bottle of Vodka.

Perfect for numbing the pain, she thinks as she sniffles and rubs at her eyes, so sensitive from all the crying.

After taking a few swigs straight from the bottle, Camila reaches into her back pocket and takes out a small baggie filled with a white, powder-like substance.

This is a habit that Camila has developed in the last few years, overwhelmed by the amount of work she’s put in for her profession. Without an ounce of regret, Camila empties the contents onto the bar’s counter, takes out a credit card to make a few lines, and sniffs up all of the cocaine she had in her possession.

At this point, Camila can’t give a single damn about any of the consequences. If she dies, who will miss her anyway?

Her parents hate her and she’s never allowed to see her little sister again. In addition to that, she managed to betray the greatest love of her life, one of the only people in this world that truly loved her for her and not the fame or the money.

As Camila sits at the bar of her penthouse, way too spacious for one person, she realizes that she is completely and utterly alone.

…

I’m sorry for the angst guys :(

This fic is really important to me because Camila’s relationship with her father is inspired by the one that I have with my own dad (slightly exaggerated but you get my point lol). So if you guys left some feedback on my Wattpad account (@xlaurmanix) and shared this with your friends, it would mean the world to me ❤️

Thank you guys for reading, and I’ll update as soon as I can!

#UPDATE #series #AU #g!p #slash #trigger warning #camren #laurmani #alren #laurinah #angst drama #family #humour #submission #Trainwreck

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shiparmada · 7 years

Note

I was wondering if you could please write young spiritassassin where before they start dating Baze is slightly jealous at this one guy who's head over heels for Chirrut who has it out for Baze and though he respects and understands Chirrut and gives him space (because Baze is respectful and wants Chirrut to feel free to do whatever he likes) he can't help but feel sorta jealous and lonely because that's his light and his love and he doesn't want his love with some jerk because (1)

loosing him would hurt and man is he in love with his little shining light. Meanwhile Chirrut is so damn in love with Baze he’s like “other guy who? Doesn’t ring a bell. Anyway let me tell you about my not boyfriend but basically boyfriend (I think) Baze who is the most handsome and wonderful person there ever was.” (2)

Well, Anon, I can certainly give it a shot!

Chirrut remembered the day he had realized he was in lovewith Baze Malbus. They had been sparring and Baze had gotten the upper hand,pinning Chirrut to the mat with his whole weight. Chirrut would admit that ithad not been love he had felt in thatmoment, it was a more primal bodily urge, but it was the starting point torealizing the love. Chirrut had thrown a few matches after that, wanting to bepinned by Baze again. He had to stop when Baze assumed he was throwing thematches to make Baze feel better.

But Baze had shown no interest in Chirrut. Baze was a hardman to read, but Chirrut had always had a certain talent for it. Baze did loveChirrut, but it never manifested as anything except a platonic familial love.With a lot of meditation and introspection Chirrut had come to learn to acceptthis, to learn to be content. As long as Chirrut had Baze’s friendship, Chirrutcould live with not having his heart.

Of course, after that was when Baze started acting verystrange.

Chirrut noticed it after a sparring match he had with Teli,an acolyte three years Chirrut’s senior, but who had not yet passed his fourthduan unlike Chirrut and Baze both. Teli had come to Chirrut at dinner onenight, face a scarlet red and worrying his lip with his teeth so much Chirrutworried he would start bleeding into Chirrut’s soup, asking if Chirrut wouldhelp him train. Chirrut had grinned up at Teli and agreed to it, making timethe next day. Teli had somehow turned darker, but nodded and left beforeChirrut could ask if he was feeling alright, Teli nodded and left.

What Chirrut had not seen was the way Baze glared at Teli,or the way he gripped his spoon tighter in his hand.

After Chirrut and Teli’s first lesson, Baze started avoidingChirrut. Free times they usually spent together were now spent apart, Bazegiving excuses such as wanting to go to the library and read up on the knownhistory of Kyber, or that he wanted to practice his breathing techniqueswithout Chirrut bothering him. The worst excuse of wall was that Baze wastaking a vow of solitude and locked himself away for two days.

Every time Chirrut would try to explain that Baze’s absencewas hurting Chirrut, Baze would dash away again.

All those thoughts and more were what Chirrut had beenthinking on when a fist collided into his chest and knocked the wind out ofhim. “Chirrut!” Teli’s voice said as Chirrut doubled over, arm instinctivelywrapping around his chest. “Chirrut, I’m sorry, I should not have hit you sohard!” The tall but lithe man moved close, touching Chirrut’s shoulder. “I hadexpected you to block, I am sorry.”

“Please, my friend,” Chirrut said once he caught his breathand he slowly stood up, rubbing the spot he had been hit. That would bruise.“It is my fault for getting distracted.” He gave Teli a bright smile to try tosmooth any embarrassment the other teenager felt, letting out a long breath.

Teli paused, hands out as if to catch Chirrut. Chirrut’ssmile softened and he moved away from Teli. “Perhaps we should stop for theday,” Teli suggested. His eyes followed Chirrut as he moved away, and Chirrutfelt his skin start to heat up.

“Probably a good idea,” Chirrut said, trying to laugh, buthis throat was tight. What was wrong with him? Chirrut moved over to the pegwhere his robes were hanging and he slid them over his shirt and pants.

“Chirrut,” Teli started, making no move for his own robes.“Perhaps if we’re done for the day, we could sit and talk? I’d like to get toknow you better.”

Chirrut hesitated only a moment. He had been thinking ofrushing off to find Baze, Baze had said he would be in the library all day soit would not be difficult to find him. Chirrut’s fingers tied his robes shutand let out a breath. Baze would almost certainly just run away when Chirrutfound him. Better to spend time with a friend who wanted to be around you asopposed to a friend who did not. “Of course, Teli,” Chirrut said, turning andgiving his new friend a smile. “I would love that.”

Teli sat against one of the walls and Chirrut moved to sitnext to him, pulling his legs up under him. “Chirrut,” Teli said and his handsclasped in front of him, thumbs sliding over each other, fingers tapping on thebacks of his hands. “I like you, Chirrut.”

Chirrut blinked, looking at Teli and giving him a smile. “Ilike you too, Teli. You are a good friend. One day you will make a goodguardian.”

“No.” Teli’s voice was tight and had an edge that Chirrutbelieved was unexpected. “No, I mean… I mean more like in a romantic sense.”Teli swallowed against his words, hands clenching in front of him. “As in…sometimes I day dream about us kissing, or touching, despite how very un-monklike those thoughts are. You’re handsome, and very distracting.”

Chirrut’s chest got tight at those words, but he could notstop the laugh that erupted from him with those last words. “I will try to beless distracting in the future,” Chirrut said, covering his mouth as helaughed. The strained look on Teli’s face quickly sobered him though and hereached out, placing his hand on Teli’s arm. “Teli… your words flatter me,truly… but I cannot reciprocate your feelings, as much as I would like to.”

“Is it because of Baze Malbus?”

He wishes he could be surprised the question was asked, butChirrut is not. He breathes in, breathes out. He counts in his head as he doesbefore he nods. “Yes,” Chirrut said, looking at Teli, the smile he gives itweak but it is genuine. “Please don’t tell him that, but he already has myheart.”

The older boy nodded and leaned back against the wall. “Ibelieved that was the case,” Teli said simply, running his bare feet over thefloor. “I cannot say I’m not disappointed. I had been hoping I could be the oneto snag you.” Chirrut laughed at that and shook his head before Teli asked,“What is it about Baze Malbus you like so much?”

“What is not to like?” Chirrut’s grin was back, his heartsoaring as he thought of his friend. “He is good, and kind. He knows how muchdamage he can do so he puts extra effort into being gentle. He has always beenthere for me, even when I could not be there for myself.” If those last wordsconfused Teli, he does not show it, so Chirrut continues, “I don’t have toexplain myself to Baze. Things are uncomplicated with us; we can simply beourselves and be happy with that. And best of all, he laughs at all my jokes,even the most terrible ones.” Chirrut’s cheeks hurt from maintaining such awide grin, but this was his favorite subject after all.

Then there were all the physical things Chirrut loved. Hisexpressive eyes and the softness of his hair. That ass that Chirrut unashamedlyadmired from afar. Yes, there were many reasons to love Baze Malbus.

“Does Baze know this?” Teli asked, drawing his knees to hischest. “It seems like anyone would be lucky to have someone who loves them asmuch as that.”

“No,” Chirrut said quickly, shaking his head and looking athis feet. “No I cannot do that. Baze is my best friend. It could ruineverything. That is not something I can risk.”

“Everything is as the Force wills it,” Teli gently remindedChirrut. “You are right that telling him could ruin everything… but like theForce, things are not always that simple. There are two sides. Telling himcould ruin everything, or it could make everything better.” Teli paused andthen tilted his head. “I just told you that I like you, did I ruin everything?”

“What?” Chirrut asked, startled. “No, of course not! I amhonored you would trust me with that confession.”

“Then perhaps Baze will feel the same way, even if he doesnot like you the same way.” Teli smiled and then stood up. “Will we continueour training? Same time tomorrow?”

Chirrut smiled and nodded, taking Teli’s offered hand as hereached down to help him up. “Of course. Same time tomorrow.” Chirrut pausedand glanced around. He was not looking for anything specific, just trying tocalm his suddenly racing heart. “I think I will… go find Baze.”

Teli’s smile was sad, but Chirrut knew Teli would find a wayto heal. “Of course. May the Force guide you.”

“Thank you, Teli.” Chirrut smiled and then dashed away fromthe training room.

Baze was exactly where he said he was going to be, sittingin the library reading one of the largest books Chirrut had ever seen. Chirrutwas sure Baze was not actually reading the book though. While his friend’s eyeswere looking at the book, they did not twitch and move as they scanned over thewords. Chirrut’s lips twitched up into a grin as he came up to Baze’s side andsat next to him, legs folding up. “Interesting read?” he asked, and laughedwhen Baze jumped in surprise.

“I don’t know how manage to do that,” Baze muttered andglanced over at Chirrut before turning back to the book quickly. “I thought youwere training Teli today… You should not be done for another few hours…”

“We finished early,” Chirrut answered easily, pressing thepalms of his hands into his knees and running them over the knobs and bumpsthere. “Teli and I got to talking… and he admitted that he liked me in aromantic sense, and-“ Baze’s shoulders went rigid at Chirrut’s words, snappingChirrut from his thoughts. “Baze?” Chirrut placed his hand on Baze’s shoulder,giving it a small squeeze. “Are you alright, my friend?”

Baze shrugged out of his touch and shifted away from him. “SoTeli finally told you?” Baze asked, ignoring Chirrut’s question. “It has beenobvious from the beginning.”

“Has it?” Chirrut asked lightly, opened his mouth to speak butthen Baze continued speaking.

“I suppose you’re coming to tell me that the two of you aregoing to start courting,” Baze muttered, and Chirrut had to school his face tocalmness at Baze’s wording. He made it sound so formal and cold. “I suppose youwill want to move into his room to spend more time with him…”

All Chirrut’s self-control could not stop him from laughingat that. “He just told me he likes me today,Baze! Not even an hour ago! Do you really think I would just leave my bed andjoin him in his?”

“Out of the two of us,” Baze said simply, turning his bodyaway from Chirrut’s and focusing more on the book, “you would be the most likelyto do that.”

Chirrut sighed, reaching up and scrubbing his hands over hisface, clicking his tongue. “You assume too much, my friend. For someone soclever and smart, you are dense.” When Chirrut lowered his hands, Baze waslooking at him, eyebrows knitted together. “Teli did tell me he likes me, yes,but I did not say that I liked him. Unlike you, he figured out the reason whywithout me telling him.”

The furrows between Baze’s eyebrows deepened at that, and heturned cautiously towards Chirrut, one hand on the book and the other on hisown knee, muscles tensed to run if needed. When Baze said nothing, Chirrutdecided to continue.

“I told him that I cannot be with him because my heartbelongs to another,” Chirrut finished, and his heart started fluttering in hischest. I am one with the Force, the Forceis with me, Chirrut thought to himself, taking a long breath to calm hiserratic heart. “Though he does not know it. He is a little too dense to figure it out.”

Chirrut saw the moment of realization, when Baze’s jawdropped from his mouth and his eyes widened as he stared at Chirrut. “You… you…”Baze tried, but then his mouth snapped shut, tongue rolling his mouth as hethought. “You like me?”

Chirrut nodded, letting his cool demeanor cover for hisexcited heart, the anxiety rising against the back of his neck. “I do. No,”Chirrut suddenly said, going against his previous statement, “No, I don’t likeyou, I love you Baze. It would be a lie to say anything else.” Chirrut pushedto stand up, smoothing down his robes in a mask of calmness. “I will leave youto keep reading, and you can give me your ans-“

Chirrut never got to finish his statement, because Baze’s stronghands were on his arms and Baze was standing to loom over him, pressing hismouth awkwardly against Chirrut’s. Chirrut made an attempt to answer the kiss,but teeth clashed and their lips did not quite line up correctly and then itwas over far too quickly. Chirrut would have time to be embarrassed about thenoise that left his mouth later whenhis brain was working again. Chirrut just wanted Baze’s lips back and he leanedforward against Baze’s chest.

“I love you too,” Baze whispered quietly against Chirrut’sdesperate attempts to get back to kissing. Baze laughed as Chirrut’s armswrapped around his neck and he leaned back against Chirrut’s attempts to get tohim.

“Then kiss me again,” Chirrut said, sounding petulant and angrybut not caring.

And then Baze did, and Chirrut felt himself melting into itin a way he did not expect.

#Anonymous #spiritassassin #bazechirrut #baze x chirrut #Alexis Writes #This prompt was very specific #I hope the story does it justice

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

Text

Ronnie, Bronson, Charlie & Bea

Ronnie: I'm going on a run Ronnie: who wants? Bronson: My stash is depleted for some unknown reason 🤔 please stock me up Charlie: Ooh, new year new you babe? Charlie: couch to 5k is it aspirational af 😍 Bea: ✋ me Ronnie: fuck off i just dont need you pussies crying when you can't scav my gear Ronnie: what'll it be princess? the usual Charlie: c'mon, we've always shared everything, nothing is your own #carekidlife Bronson: Ha! That'll be why the lock on my door never sticks Bea: yep, not decided to get heavily into crack since we last spoke, just lots of amphetamines in any form you find 'em, tah, got exams coming up Ronnie: Shame Ronnie: reckon I'd like you more on the hard shit Charlie: just in case you missed the old place, man, giving you that nostalgia for when you had to padlock anything that wasn't bolted to the floor 😜 Bronson: Good times! 😀 Bea: Shame I'm not trying to be your type then, I guess Bea: soz darling, spoken for 💋 Charlie: Truly, missing that tenner a week pocket money, LUXURY! Ronnie: fucking am Ronnie: pissing jobcentre Bronson: I'll add it to your tab if you're desperate as Charlie: gotta learn to play their game, babe Charlie: not throw the board in a hissy Ronnie: 🖕 doss cunts Bea: catch me here fanning myself with sweet, sweet debt for future me to give a shit about Bronson: I'll wipe it out if you use some to keep me sweet Bea: sweet enough sugar 😘 Bea: but forreal, if you could manage that I would be your sugar mama for LIFE 🙏 Bronson: It's student loans not the feds Bronson: Easy peasy Bea: true, like all branches of the gov, pretty fucking useless Bea: but I'm an immigrant as far as they concerned so they treat me SO good 😋 Bronson: Same, but we can always stretch our hands out a little further Ronnie: To jack it and pat yourself on the back at the same time, yeah? Ronnie: calm it down Bronson: New year, new look too! Green looks ace with black 😄 Bea: Clearly do not have natural rhythm Ronnie, that's really not that difficult Bea: You're not a drummer, are you? 😕 Ronnie: get off my tits all of yous Ronnie: do you want gear or nah? Bronson: 🤐 Bea: I thought you'd already gone tbh Ronnie: not trying to score that weak gay shit Ronnie: hitting up a more reliable source like Charlie: rude, i'm RIGHT here Ronnie: are you even gay fitzy? always in my pussy lad Bronson: 😷 Bea: 🤢 Charlie: idk, ask ur man 💖 Ronnie: that'll be why me and Bron's dads did a bunk Bronson: Get yourself locked up at the same time just for the d, did you? Romantic Charlie: if the porn n the stereotypes n the rate of STIs are anything to go by...love is in the air always in cell block h Ronnie: princess'll have some handcuffs to get you on your way to that good loving Bea: 🚿🧠 anyone got any bleach? Bea: Charlie isn't worth the 💰 use cable ties, more authentic Bronson: 99 🚔 My fingers are on the button....Stop for the love of god Ronnie: Bron can help you out there Fitz Ronnie: 🤓 Bronson: Take that over a thicko label Charlie: Look, babe, know you wanna tie me down forever but do it yourself, don't involve the kid Charlie: 💍 diamond or no D, soz Ronnie: Bring a needle I'll snag a gem Bronson: Don't go there, C, I'm still riding the ear infection wave Bronson: It's been 84 years Ronnie: yeah cause you're a mong that can't turn an earring Bronson: In my defense I was a legit child Bea: nothing screams low-class like stabbing your friends for the bants Charlie: and i already scream homo loudly enough, don't need another reason to be hate crime-d, a thank you Bronson: If I didn't know you I'd guess bisexual Bronson: You can have that for free Charlie: what a smooth-talker! thanks babe 💖 Charlie: and if i didn't know you, i'd guess you were trying to see my dongle Bronson: Been there, repressed the trauma o that Ronnie: get a fucking room benders Charlie: why you being so homophobic when we all know how bad you want on princess? cliche stuck in the closet much Bea: shut up Ronnie: in your wet dreams Charles Ronnie: fuck off Charlie: oh the delicious tension Charlie: too much for either to bear Ronnie: I know where she's been Ronnie: fuck that Ronnie: like you wish you could gayboy Bronson: Wait, you fancy Fraze, Charlie? Ha Bea: Bron can you not encourage either of them Bea: thanks Bronson: Sorry my mind's just blown I thought he was out of his straight boy phase Charlie: What? Its a compliment for you, he's adorable, why else would you be with him? Ronnie: they're both annoying cunts Ronnie: match made Charlie: and never out of that phase, bro 😍 #daddyissues Bea: get his name out of your mouth bitch Ronnie: oi get your mouth off his dick Fitzgerald you heard her Ronnie: princess is raging like Ronnie: when your mans a slag and youre a prude Bea: As if Bea: Only one McKenna fucked up to go near you Bea: #singletear Charlie: Children, enough Ronnie: Bron do that final 9 she's going off 😂 Bronson: Walking away Bea: know you're hard up but as per we're all funding you getting your rocks off so run along and do it, no need to bore me trying to get your kicks Ronnie: know youre a snobby cunt but I don't work for you Bea: you don't work for anyone, not even JC gonna fund your lack of a life Ronnie: 🖕 mad cause I don't need reddies to fund myself Bea: yeah fuming Bea: if only I'd have thought of selling my body, wouldn't even NEED to be at cambs rn omg Ronnie: nailed it Bea: 😂 Bea: whodathunkit Bea: talking to the cure for cancer stuck inside a waster here Bea: and I'm the snob, okay Ronnie: fucking hell Ronnie: devvo like Bea: We can tell Bea: you don't need to shout about it, you've got the energy of a walking wasteland Ronnie: can't wait until you take some more speed and get more smug Bea: Right? Bea: Must sting, better only getting better Bea: why don't you get something to numb the pain- Ronnie: let you know how it feels when the lads come up Bronson: A rare compliment, you hitting it already? Ronnie: you'll have your share calm the fuck down Charlie: i don't want any, i'm busy Charlie: glad you all noted my silence, feel so listened to usually! hmpf Ronnie: so now you're a little bitch too Ronnie: fuck's sake Bronson: PARTY TIME, am I right? Really in the mood now thanks everyone Charlie: who's in who's pussy, dollface? Charlie: keep your shirt on, Bro 😂 got enough with the two angry feminists here Charlie: I've got previous plans, if you're really so hurt, you can save me some, no? Whaddya mean that'd hurt more? 😏 Bea: you're alright, I personally rather you weren't there, suits me 😘 Bronson: Shirts already off, too late 😜 Bea: Standard 👌 Charlie: you big man whore Charlie: when i'm not around to be predatory, too, tuttut Bronson: I'd wilt under your stare, you know you aren't missing out Charlie: our beautiful wallflower Charlie: I bagsy being a red rose, lil trashy but iconic Bronson: Thorn in our sides Bronson: accepted Bea: Nice one, babe Bea: i'll be an orchid, because i'm beautiful, ornamental and high-maintenance Bea: getting in there before any of you fucks can Charlie: though your silence IS noted, wonwon Charlie: don't be cross at me 😘 Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: you're not the only one who's busy Ronnie: got a dick in my mouth too like Charlie: such a skilled multitasker Charlie: teach me your ways Bronson: in private please Bronson: not a lesson I want to learn Bea: we're not living in that teen movie Ronnie: On my way Bea: 👍 getting cash out, meet you there Bronson: Doors on the latch

Bea: Morning sweetness 😴 Bea: manage to recover your good vibe/night? Bronson: is it? 😪 Bronson: Until now it wasn't too bad Bronson: Do you get to say the same or is it pure suffering? Bea: Wow, when you hit bae up with that morning text and he's like day=ruined 😰 thought we was forever 😉 Bea: Decided to get off with someone around the same time I lost track of yous, so it was fucking awful, don't tell me you coulda told me that Bronson: It's only the comedown I wanna dump you're welcome to come and nap 💗 Bronson: Not to be that know it all Bea: Molly's such a cruel, cruel mistress, she wants you to miss her when she's gone 💁 Bea: Poor bubba, better than waking up next to that pushy bitch from last night though, Jesus, what was her damage? Bea: I reckon he'd actually gone out and had his drunken kebab and THEN PAID TO GET BACK IN Bea: No sir, not alright Bea: Why do I bother? Bronson: But I'm shamelessly smitten, only girl for besides present company like Bronson: Whatever it is she's not the first or last sufferer Bronson: Thanks for the bail out and sorry I wasn't there to do the same with kebab Kev Bea: N'awwh 💞 glad I hold more appeal than Tina, don't need to be going down that route Bea: It's an epidemic! Basic bitches who can't get a man willing, yeah take that out on innocent onlookers who ain't buying and talk about how your ex ain't shit for being a creepy letch Bea: We see you sweets 💅 Bea: Any time, even if you weren't there to take that donner breath bullet Bea: I'd never ask that of anyone, even Ronnie, though she'd brag about not being arsed, I'm sure 😂 Bronson: Next time I'll carry gum and throw it at whoever you deem worthy Bronson: Give me the nod Bronson: It was all over her socials like we had a good night together until I got there first Bronson: Rather take out Tina and all her mates Bea: as if you don't already Bea: if only little miss would-be-rapist knew that strong jawline was from gurning up a storm 😉 Bea: not so sexy now Bronson: there's nothing in my pockets I'm just pleased to see you Bronson: Seriously though, some of those selfies had to go for that unflattering reason alone taking into account none of her other antics Bronson: I looked a state Bea: 😂 not fallen for that one before but i'll make an exception for you boo Bea: catch me in my duvet cocoon, please don't look at me 'cos same Bea: I dread to think Bea: kept off my accounts for that reason and many more, some of us have reputations to uphold, skank Bronson: want me to check Bronson: clean up the carnage Bronson: Then brunch, your treat Bea: please Bea: roleplay my IT bitch and I'll be feeling my boss best in time for a liquid lunch Bea: will have to damage control my face first, enjoy watching me lovingly whilst I turn a -2 to an 11 Bronson: Never get bored of staring at you, you know that Bronson: Make my hair great again Bronson: Thanks Bea: when you shoulda been Trump's campaign manager 😕 Bea: sort the weave, clean up that twitter Bea: what a wonderful world it coulda been Bronson: Last night proves I can't stop him pussy grabbing Bronson: Need you for that one Bea: This pussy bites back 😼 Bea: its not your fault, girls like that, if you tell her to fuck off, and rightly so, it'd be made like YOU were being a prick to her Bea: gotta bullshit these hoes sometimes, tis the only way Bronson: Or playing hard to get...they fire that one at me loads Bronson: 😦 Bea: 🤢 gross Bea: got that one myself a fair few times, when I'm not being accused of being a prude by Ronaldo, hilariously Bea: People are the worst Bea: 'cept us Bronson: It's only because she likes you Bronson: Flattering, isn't it? Bronson: Being called broken is my fave Bronson: "Who hurt you?" You are right now, fuck off before you get a slap yourself to feel the pain of Bea: Wouldn't that just be the perfect solution in their simplistic little world? If only Bea: Save myself the feelings of disgust not brought on by kebab breath Bea: Though, if you think that that's love coming from Ron, then you do have an answer to their riddle right there, not real but the masses'll take one look at her and buy it 😜 Bronson: No arguments here Bronson: Your socials are sparkling now so that's real comfort to take Bea: 💖 yay Bea: the world never need know Bea: as long as I didn't drunk dial or text Fraze, this day is looking up, tah babes Bronson: Not to be a know it all again so quick Bronson: but I'm going to go ahead and guess the answer to that one Bea: BITCH DON'T KILL MY VIBE Bea: I'm sure I'd have angry ranting in my inbox if I had Bea: or a passive indirect on the socials, come across one perchance smartiepants? Bronson: Might've Bronson: I'll spare you Bea: Noooooooooooooooooooo Bea: Coulda had it all Bea: Really sours my Bloody Mary Bea: Fuck sake, now he's going to think I FUCKED kebab kev and enjoyed it meanwhile I sit here virginal and scrubbing my mouth out with soap Bea: How's this game fair again, please remind me Bronson: It isn't Bronson: But I can't tell you to stop playing Bronson: All yours Bea: you're meant to be a superwhizkid Bea: can't you think up a strategy so I win Bronson: Thinking cap is on Bronson: Because my hair still looks shit as much as Bea: I'll fix your barnet Bea: Between you and Charlie, honestly Bea: Never known boys like it 😂 Bea: blatant lie, have you seen how particular Fraze is but he doesn't really have much hair to be stylin' so Bronson: 👴 awkward Bea: you fool Bea: not like that 😂 Bea: though I'll keep it in my backpocket for when we inevitably row later Bea: #malepatternbaldnessBITCH Bronson: Freebie to kick your day off right again Bea: if you refuse to tell me what to do, could you use your skillz for good at least and fucking disable my phone when i'm fucked Bronson: Last time I tried you tried to fight me like Bea: Look, I didn't say it was a task for the fainthearted 😉 Bea: and yes, you would be the first to succeed too Bea: but if anyone can, its my man 😘 Bronson: Ego boost before eggs Bronson: Whoa Bronson: Today is looking up Bea: Gotta keep you sweet with all the bitching I'll no doubt do at brunch Bea: such a Carrie move, like no one cares bitch, write it in your column or books or...what did she even write? Or was she just monologuing at her computer, like all been there babe but don't act like its buying you all that designer Bronson: Her real true love was that laptop Bronson: Solved it Bea: 😲 Bea: but Mr. Big Bea: clue in the name Bronson: Could be his wallet Bronson: explain the designer gear Bea: Exactly Bea: Just my type Bronson: I'd go in for it if I can spend and send him the receipts Bea: you must be aware there are websites for that Bea: get on it boy Bronson: It all gets too sexual for my tastes Bea: set out boundaries Bea: different strokes for different folks Bea: i'm SURE there's a millionaire out there that just wants to chat Bronson: 🤔 There's enough fighting off advances in the club Bronson: Shelving that until millionaires become good people Bea: not bad people by default Bea: just a bad system they profit from more than you Bronson: Getting deep in here Bronson: Truth though Bea: real talk take #2 Bea: where do you think charlie was last night? and who or what was he doing? Bronson: Good questions that I have no answer to Bronson: If he had a job we'd all know Bea: I need to know, suspense is killing me Bea: I didn't think anything beat drugs in his book Bea: somewhat encouraging? Bronson: You could ask but I doubt you'd get far enough into the real Bronson: It is Bronson: Boy's growing up? Bea: Full of the #bants them two Bronson: Since day 1 Bronson: I'm coming to get you, Barbara Bronson: Ready yourself Bea: *falls over gravestones like a dumb bitch* Bea: i'm good to go and looking fly Bronson: I'll do the coded knock Bronson: Made up rn Bea: Helpful Bronson: That's my thing Bronson: Soon, my love, soon

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