#I love reading lying on my stomach and my cat just loves it. Hates being moved. We are locked in combat post any cuddle sessions.
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Alternative form of 'Hitting Wangxian with a Catboyification beam'
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#I don't have much more of an explanation to this other than 'i was struck by the vision and needed to create it'#They are both catboy coded. To me. On slightly different alignments of catboy but still.#LWJ is catboy: Fussy + bites and WWX is catboy: Stinky#Neither of them take well to being moved from their nap spot.#I love reading lying on my stomach and my cat just loves it. Hates being moved. We are locked in combat post any cuddle sessions.#I am a cat lover. I love them. They are Rotten little Stinkers. I love them#LWJ is like. *the* definition of 'cat that only likes those its in a bonded pair with.#The kind of cat that screams if it sees any neighborhood cats wandering outside.#wwx is a 'outdoor cat that wandered inside and became domesticated but NOT owned' kinda guy.#he is a menace on the local bird population and the only reason he's not dad to all the kittens is that he got fixed young.#UNLESS: the golden core transfer here was the balls (?) Animal control took JCs balls and WWX gave his up (????)#((I Also Don't Know What I'm Saying))
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minors mdni
hobie is always down to help you study.
it starts on a wednesday night. you’re both lazing around in your apartment. candles are the main source of light and the smell of lemon zest wafts through the walls. tyler the creator’s dogtooth is lulling through your kuromi speaker.
it’s hobie’s choice. you both knew you’d be too focused to fiddle around with the music. if given a choice, you will turn into a two hour doom scrolling session of funny videos and cute cats anyway.
you’re lying on your stomach, neck deep in your pink ipad. hobie lays behind your with your feet on his chest. he absentmindedly runs his fingers along your calves. occasionally, his fingers dig into the muscle and provide you with temporary relief.
he catches up on his usual forums, criticizing the government and the rich. it’s bit ironic, he knows, to be so deeply in love with you but hate where you come from. his morals go out the window with you, though. especially when you turn and look at him with a sad brown eyes and a grimace. all he wants to do is remove hardship from you life, forever.
unfortunately, he has to be realistic and there is only so much he can do. “what?” his hands rub over the balls of your feet, covered in frilly white socks.
you’re always complaining you’re cold, despite never actually getting up to change the temperature and wearing the thinnest layers of clothes. today is no different. you’re wearing a flowy white tank top with matching shorts. he tells you it reminds him of a paper bag. you tell him to shut up.
“i don’t wanna do this anymore.” your cheek drops to your bed amid your complaining. your brain is fried with all the unnecessary reading you’re being forced to do. what you thought was supposed to be a quick little study session turned into hours of you curating a study guide for this unit.
hobie stopped by a while ago, bringing takeout with him. he originally came when you both thought you’d be finished soon but seeing how you weren’t, he stays by your side to keep you company.
“then don’t.” he shrugs. he’s not being helpful, he’s aware, but he never went to college and he doesn’t plan on it. like he will ever spend years at a government institution and follow their rules just to get a piece of paper. “ ‘s all a scam, anyway. meant to keep the average person down and pump ‘em right out to capitalism.” he looks up from his screen, his apologetic smile all mocking and sarcastic. “not that you would know anythin’ ‘bout that. basically invented it yourself.”
you narrow your gaze and huff when you turn away. “you’re so annoying.” if he didn’t have a hold of your leg, you definitely would have kicked him in his jaw. “not everyone got bit by a radioactive spider and is in a band.” you grumble into the palm of your hand.
at this, hobie is scoffing. he sits up, pushing your legs onto his lap. you can feel his finger between your shoulders and can only guess he’s pointing at you. “be serious, love. when’s the last time you spent your own money?”
“that’s not what we’re talking about!” you whine, both to evade his question and display the distress currently ruining your day. “i’m tired of this. just wanna download it into my brain.”
the screen of your ipad goes dim, as if on purpose. it’s reminding you of the control is has on you when you tap it to pull it out of sleep mode. you much rather would like to chuck it across the room but then you’d have to buy a new one. not only does that entail spending money you didn’t want to spend but also an earful from your boyfriend about how wasteful you are. about how you’re fueling the fucked up ethics surrounding consumers and producers.
you didn’t want to experience either.
“okay, okay.” hobie’s pointing finger is eventually replaced by his hands. they engulf your shoulders but press and roll them till you’re no longer as tense. “tell me how i can help.” he peers over your side to get insight on your progress. all he sees in a bunch of words, having no concept of what you’re studying. he’s willing to help, though, how ever you’ll have him.
you shake your head with a drawn out sigh. at this point, you need a break. maybe it would be better to come back with a fresh mind and clean slate. “you can’t. i’m just not gonna finish ever.” you snap the apple pencil back in its case and flip the cover over the top.
you officially give up, pushing the tablet away from you. your body flops on top of your mattress and your eyes flutter closed. what else are you to do than take a nap and hope your study guide studies itself. “jus’ won’t do it.”
hobie rolls you over by your waist. you didn’t protest and he likes that. it’s so easy for you to snowball and begin to complain about everything. he lets you, knowing you’re just expressing your frustrations but he can’t deny that he still likes to prevent it when he can.
“you been buggin’ me all week about how you need to pass this test. you’re not going to not do it.”
you feel the mattress dip from his weight when he leans to pluck your ipad up from above you. you gripe and grouse loud enough for him to hear you only to be met with it plopped down right in your chest.
you just barely open one of your eye to see if he’s serious about his opposing stance. when you see him looking right back at you, you know he is and that only further annoys you. “but i’m not doing it, not right now. i can’t.”
he pulls you until you’re seated, despite your purposefully limp body making it difficult. “you don’t really have a choice, sweets.” if you don’t do it now when he’s here to hold you accountable, you won’t do it at all. “i’ll help you. come on.”
“you can’t.” your exasperated by his insistence. he’s always like this, always forcing you to do things you don’t want to. in hindsight, you’re grateful because it’s usually something you really should do. “you don’t even know what i’m talking about.”
“i don’t have to know what you’re talking about to help you. you’re one studying, not me.”
you have no idea how much has passed since that conversation. truthfully, you have no idea if time is passing at all.
how your study session escalated like this, you have no idea. hobie and his infinite horniness is really the reason behind this, as he is with almost everything.
“read the next line.” he speaks from above you. he’s still seated, however you’re lying on your stomach again. you’re back, focusing the best you can due to the conditions of this time being. your bonnet is hanging halfway off your head from all the sliding you’ve done.
hobie is gripping one of your ankles, the other free to move behind his back. unlike other times you take too long to follow directions, he states his piece again. “i know you heard me, babydoll.”
it originally started out pretty enjoyable. you’d read out your little facts, tell him what it meant, show him you understand. in return, he’d praise you with soft words and grind the baby blue vibrator against your clit.
the first few times, you found the waves of your orgasms to be pleasant. it served as the perfect incentive to motivate you to study. however, now is an entirely different story. instead if a reward, it operates as a punishment. you’ve been pushed far past the point of overstimulation and lost count of the number of times hobie had you creaming all over yourself.
your lips tremble and you do your best to ignore the soft buzzing between your legs. much to your dismay, it’s still on and on the lowest setting. how long is stays like that is up to you. “in – infants first experience trust versus mistrust.” your hand flies behind you when he presses just right. the usually enjoyable feeling is underlined with pain and has you wanting to snap your legs close.
“move it before i do,” hobie says after giving you opportune time to correct your decision. he doesn’t like being mean with you, would much rather spoil you and never see you lift a finger. sometimes he does have to put his foot down, though he never really revels in it.
you hesitate, blubbering about how rude and unhelpful he is. you’re only lifting one finger at a time off his wrist. he wouldn’t care if you weren’t simultaneously attempting to pull away from him.
“gonna tell you again one more time, angel.”
your hand is gone before he finishes his sentence.
you don’t see hobie smile your obedience but you hear it, hear how lighthearted his voice is when he speaks again. “so trust and whatever. what about it?”
he’s still so gentle with you even like this. he only holds tight enough to keep you still and sometimes he takes pity on you. like this time when he turns the vibrator off. just enough to let you think.
you can’t think, though. you’re blank and growing more restless the longer nothing forms in your head. it’s such a simple topic until there’s three different people who theorize the meaning behind it. “something with nature and nurture, i think.”
“something? you think?”
hobie can’t believe what he’s hearing. you knew your fate when you said it, yet you continue to speak it. to your defense, you weren’t all that confident in your response. if it didn’t align with what you said before, he’d catch it and somehow you would end up back in this situation again. either blamed for not expanding earlier or for being incorrect now.
“it’s not a direct response,” you immediately defend yourself. you look over your shoulder, hoping to plead and response. “psychology is like a big written response test. everyone’s brain isn’t the same.”
he cocks his head, tenderly stroking your calf. by now, he’s used to your excuses and isn’t interested in negotiating the answers with you. “yeah? is your test written response?”
you suck your teeth and face the decorative pictures on the wall in front of you. what does he want you to do? break into the classroom and take the answer sheet? “you’re so mean to me. you hate me.”
hobie only rolls his eyes at your dramatics. while he did expect it at some point, your constant protests still has the same effect on him. “you’re such a crybaby. not gonna be sayin’ that when you pass.”
he turns the vibrator back on and reinstates his grip on your leg. he doesn’t have to, not with the way you collapse. your face is in your hands, muffling your garbles. if it was any other day, he’d feel betrayed. how dare you keep him from hearing what sounds he’s causing. today though, he’s more lenient.
you’re trembling when he circles it between your folds. you reach, seizing a hold of your cinnamroll build-a-bear. you feel a bit of guilt for your poor bear having to witness such lewd acts but the feel disappears the moment he turns it on the highest setting.
it’s so sudden, both the settings change and how quickly a weak watery stream comes out of your pulsating hole. you shriek through the rhythmic clenching until you’re whimpering.
your pussy is aching, tightening around nothing and begging to be filled. your clit may be sensitive but your need is not yet satisfied. “oh my god ‘bie. can you please just fuck me. i’ll study and be quiet and do whatever you want. please.”
hobie only laughs. it’s genuine though, soft and sweet when he pats your lower back. “can’t baby. that’s not what we’re doing here. if you do well next week, maybe.”
you feel like crying. how much longer did he intend on doing this? how much longer are you going to be tortured? is this how you die? you know your complaints would be ineffective in receiving the results you want so you sniff, sucking it up. you’ll just agree for now and get what you want later.
surely enough, on next tuesday you’re excited to show him your high marks. thanks to his unconventional methods, you make a ninety-four. and just as he’s suggested, you’re rewarded with an amazing night full of no sleep.
#ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙#astv hobie#hobie brown#hobie smut#hobie x black!reader#hobie x reader#hobie x y/n#x black fem reader#x black reader#x reader
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Always Black Cats And Bitter Coffee: Chapter 6 [part 4]
Chapter 6 [part 4] : finale
warnings: mentions of stabbing, guns, shooting, two deaths, blood, anxiety, blame, guilt
It was a few weeks after Minho and Yunho found you, bound and gagged, with a knife sticking out of your abdomen. Now you were standing in court, the best lawyer your parents could buy one one side of you, Minho on the other, he holds your hand in comfort, squeezing it every now and then to reassure you. Behind you, all your friends are sitting down. Even your parents decided to take time out of their schedule to support you in this trail.
Since you had finally healed enough, it was time to put Sanni on trial, and lucky you because you were her main victim, meaning you had to testify to everything she did. The courtroom is silent, no one dares say anything, and her side is empty. The jury sends you sympathetic glances despite not knowing the whole story, and you hate it. You never did like being looked at in sympathy.
You can’t breathe in here, waiting for Sanni to walk in, the pressure is killing you, you tell Minho you’re gonna go take a walk outside, clear your head a bit, he asks if he needs to come with you, but you tell him you need to be alone. You walk to the back of the courtroom where the door is situated, and right before you open it a loud bang echos from the other side, you hesitate for a moment before hastily opening the door, worried about what had happened, the people in the courtroom behind start to crown together to try and see for themselves, and you vaguely register your friends calling for you.
The scene before you makes your stomach churn all over again, the new scar now placed over your soulmark paining as if the wound had just been made. You look at the security guard lying down on the ground, a bullet hole in his head, next to him stands Sanni, blood splattered over the uniform she wears. She looks tired, her roots are growing out, the pink dye in her hair fading. If this was another time, another place you might have felt bad for her, but you can’t bring yourself to do so anymore.
She looks at you, and there are tears in her eye’s. A part of you is scoffing at the fact that she can actually feel human emotion, but the other part of you, the younger part, the part of you that spent years loving her, it breaks. “You love him, don’t you?” she cocks her head in Minho’s direction, you can’t bring yourself to speak, so you just nod. She brings the gun up to her heart, right where the fake soulmark she plastered on herself is located.
“My heart’s only ever belonged to you, It can’t continue beating without knowing that it’s beating for you.” You wonder where all the other guards are, if nobody’s going to stop her, why she’s suddenly showing such raw emotions that she’s never shown before. “I just want you to live with the fact that the end of my beating heart is your fault.” She says, and your body moves before you can stop it. You reach out, hand brushing with hers as she pulls the trigger, the blood splattering from her heart directly onto you, your hand is intertwined with hers as she falls, causing you to go down with her.
You can’t help the tears that fall, and you hate it. You hate her. You hate the fact that despite everything she’s done, there’s still a part of you that loves her. You feel someone kneeling behind you and wrap their arms around you, vaguely registering its Minho, your actual soulmate, the man you are in love with. You fall backward, releasing your grip from Sanni’s warm hand, and the cold metal weapon rests inside it. You cry into Minho’s chest, not paying attention to the commotion surrounding you.
abc x 2 masterlist | Soulbound masterlist | Stray kids masterlist
Current Taglist[7/30]: @i-dont-know-me-either @gaysontheprince @skzhoes @xavi-in-kpopland @moonlight-894 @foxilsdenn @conwunder
note: rahh, we finally ended the series! thank you to all of you who read and enjoyed my work🫶 I hope you look forward to the next installment of soulbound. and thank you to @wolfferno , who helped me with the last chapter🫶
also do you guys want memes or no???
#asher 🌑 speaks#skz#stray kids#smau#crossover#skz smau#abc×2 smau#kpop x male reader#stray kids lee know
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Oh my gosh that story with Jonah and Leo was SO GOOD - would you ever consider a part 2 with Leo and Jonah talking about what he was saying???
- 💋
You guys really should stop indulging my angsty self. We'll end up killing this boy.
This is a continuation of this fic: Feverish Leo has a nightmare and overshares his past with Jonah. - Which happened before Sicily!
Warning for the f- slur and mentions of past child abuse, thread carefully.
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JD let out a pitiful meow as Leo stopped her from escaping and squeezed her to his chest, kissing the top of her head. Jon snorted, noticing the cat staring at him, as if begging him to help her run away.
"Sorry, little miss, I guess you're stuck," he whispered darkly, crawling back in the bed with a bottle of Gatorade, "bottom's up, Leo."
The blonde coughed weakly against his fist and took the bottle from him, taking a small sip and grimacing when it hit his irritated throat. He gulped down a couple more sips then handed Jonah the bottle back, slumping against the pillows and letting out a soft burp.
JD burrowed against his stomach, starting to make biscuits and Leo opened a smile, running a shaky hand over her fur, "her belly rubs are better than yours."
"Yeah but hers don't come with a get-well-soon blowjob," Jonah deadpanned, rolling his eyes and moving closer so he could push a strand of hair out of Leo's eyes. His hair was much longer than usual and Jon loved it, he knew Leo wasn't cutting it entirely for his benefit too.
"What exactly did I tell you last night?" Leo sighed, turning slightly so he could meet Jon's worried eyes, "you have that freaked out look on your face."
Jonah cringed. He thought he had his usual bitch face on, but clearly Leo was getting better at reading him.
"Not too much," he reassured him, fiddling with a strand of golden hair, "don't worry-"
"I'm not worried," Leo shrugged, sounding exhausted. His voice was basically gone, he had spent the better part of the night coughing, once the fever broke, "I don't mind you knowing, Jon."
Jonah sighed, pulling his hand back, "you thought you were back home... And I think you thought I was your dad? You kept saying you'd stay out of my way and behave, so if you could stay home instead of going to school..."
"Sounds very on brand with dad," Leo snorted, without any humor, "he hated when I stayed home instead of going to school."
"Even sick?"
"Especially sick," Leo scoffed, "and give him my germs? Please."
Jonah bit on his lip, angrily munching over the words he wanted to call the man, "your father was a piece of work."
Leo let out a chuckle and slid down the bed just a little bit, continuing to pet JD, "he was complicated."
Jon didn't think there was anything complicated about the man being a cunt. He trailed a hand over Leo's arm, up and down, "did he... Did he abuse you?" the words were whispered, he couldn't bring himself to say them out loud, "I- I asked you to remove your shirt and you freaked out..."
Leo flinched, then opened and closed his mouth twice before saying, "no, he didn't," he wasn't lying, but it wasn't all of it. Still, he shut his mouth and avoided Jonah's gaze, focusing on their kitten who was playfully rolling onto her back on his stomach, little spotted belly open for him to rub.
"Leo?"
"He was just..." he shrugged, "he was weird and he scared me. He fucking terrified me," Leo looked up, "I don't know if it was some form of homophobia, because he always knew I was gay, he made it very fucking clear he knew it with the name calling, but he just... I didn't like undressing around him. Or being near him, to be quite honest. But he didn't abuse me like that."
"Like that?" Jonah repeated, voice a whip. He had never felt so heartbroken or murderous.
Leo shrugged again, "well, there was the name calling. You'd the surprised how many slurs there are other than faggot," he smiled without any happiness, tickling JD's belly, "then there was the beatings. It didn't happen often, only when he was really wasted, but towards the end..." he shuddered and Jonah moved away from the bed, getting up.
He couldn't sit still, too angry, and Leo looked up, concerned.
"Jon?"
"I'm fine," he waved him off, pacing the room, "...Was he like that before your mom left?"
Leo frowned, confused "I don't know, baby, I don't really remember anything from back then. I was too young and trauma..." he touched his temple lightly, "kinda fucks with your memory. My whole childhood is a little bit of a blur."
Jonah ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the tight curls' roots, "when- When did she leave again?"
"I was ten," Leo answered and then the next question Jon was going to ask, "and seventeen when he passed away."
"Suicide, right?" Jon sat back down, near his knee and JD meowed, jumping to his lap. Leo nodded, quietly seeming to be thinking over everything.
"Hung himself in the living room," he said in a hesitant voice, clearly scared he was freaking Jonah even more.
Jon squeezed their cat, causing her to meow and try to bite his fingers "that's why..." his mouth was dry, "another day, you mentioned a fan... That's why...?"
"Yeah," Leo shuddered and curled up on his side since JD was no longer sitting on him, watching Jon, "what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that I hate him," Jonah answered honestly, "and I hate the fact that you still have all these scars, I wish - I know it's silly, but I wish I had met you earlier, I wish I could've helped."
Leo smiled sadly, "I wish I had met you earlier too, babe," he sighed, coughing again, "I don't hate him... I'm pretty sure he had the same chronic depression I have-"
"Being depressed doesn't cause people to abuse little kids, Leo," Jon said sternly, "sucks for him, but this justifies nothing."
Leo nodded, wincing "yeah, I know... But I can't help thinking it if he wasn't so severely depressed, things would've been different. He wouldn't have drunk all the time, for starters."
"He'd still be a fucking asshole," Jonah scoffed, leaning in and planting a kiss on his boyfriend's forehead, lingering there, "I'm happy you moved here and that... And that we found each other... And that you told me all that."
Leo melted under the kiss, tugging on his sweater and causing Jonah to crumple on him into an awkward hug. JD let out a yelp and jumped away from between them, offended.
"Doesn't this scare you?" Leo whispered, voice muffled by Jonah's sweater, "I know it's a lot, the- the past, yeah, but also now-"
"Nothing about you scares me," Jonah hugged him a little bit tighter, "we all have baggage, Leo," he pulled back to look him in the eye and met Leo's feverish gaze, blue eyes searching his face as if Jonah was going to pull back and say gotcha, "I want to help you carry yours too."
Leo let out a little scoff, pulling back with a smile, "since when you're so good at communicating?"
"Please," Jonah rolled his eyes in a playful manner, pressing his forehead to Leo's, "you're so feverish, you're delusional."
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𝐒𝐮𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐤𝐮: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲! (𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 + requested ❤️ )
⚠️ don't report, if u don't like just leave and scroll :)
⚠️ nsfw, slight smut, pet names, ...
⚠️ i will NOT tolerate hate comments, especially hate towards LGBTQ+ .
With that noted, thank yuuuuu
"Tecchou... please~ stop it... hhh",
"Please..."
Jouno's yelps and helpless crying, moaning was filled in the room- where Tecchou was busy making love with him. They were the high rank mentors made to train and manage the military unit camp, which gives them much privilege to be in a private accommodation with qualified infrastructure. Like ocean waves, Jouno in pure pain and exceeding pleasure, was hip thrusting to Tecchou's movements. The soft bouncy bed made it easier. He was lying prostrate (on his stomach), letting Tecchou thrusting his ''dripping heavenly thing'' from behind. Tecchou, was so excited and almost shooting to the rooftop. In his sadistic rising nature, his eyes was sparkling in desire and sweating, going harder and faster every time Jouno's tears falls down while having himself engulfed in pleasurable pain. Jouno had never shown this vulnerable side of him, as we usually have been seeing him torture the soldiers rather than training with his subtle words, until the moment Tecchou violently threw him on bed.
Just 2 hours ago, they were training, until another mentor of the military camp came up to hit on Jouno.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Saigiku Jouno?"
He nodded his head, forming a soft smile.
"Ah yes, I sense that you're trying to reach out to me. I can tell that this crucial matter you're hiding and the urge to talk it out makes your heart beat rise...", Softly like a subtle knife blade, he continued to carve into the random mentor's insecurities. Having used to a way of speaking that makes people stimulate their nervousness, Jouno has driven the man crazy.
"wdjkwsjfw, I've had enough! You're gonna get punished for being like that to me, pretty boy."
Before Jouno could react, the man forcefully land a grip on Jouno's delicate wrists, trying to reach to his thighs...
"What the-", Jouno thought in shock. He couldn't let people harass him like that, just because he's pretty. He couldn't even see what the man looks like.
Filled with disgust, Jouno squirmed, until Tecchou suddenly came.
"Oh there you are, little kitty! I mean, my little kitty!", Tecchou exclaimed with sarcasm, trying to emphasize the ''my'' with respect to make the man back off. The man got off, as expected and stood in awkward silence as Tecchou kissed and hugs Jouno tight, while giving the man a death glare that can send chills and awkwardness down the spines.
Jouno who had grew cat ears days ago, twitched his fluffy assets (cat ears), meowing in respond to Tecchou's embrace. Tecchou, marking Jouno as his, was chuckling.
"Why would a pretty kitty boy like him be derelict?", Tecchou made a smug smirk, leaving the mentor guy to blush in rage and helpless embarrassment, running away in shame.
And even if kitty Jouno is derelict... He was made derelict for Tecchou to come and mark him..........
❤️ ❤️❤️ THE END. ❤️❤️
Thanks for reading hehe :3
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Enemy - E. C
Pairing: Edward Cullen x Vampire! Fem! Reader
Summary: Edward meets his seductress once again
Warnings: Smut, 18+ content, banter between muses, femdom, Sub! Edward, not in an alternate universe just set in the seventies, Volturi! Reader, oral (m), mention of Edward being killed, swearing of course, Vaginal sex, kinda dubcon but not really? Public alley sex.
A/N: Edward smut is hard you mfs better love this.
If he had a working heart, he was sure it would be pounding so loud the whole city could hear. He sat on his balcony, eyes scanning the crowded Paris streets. To find her, the woman who was to destroy him. Alice had warned him just a week ago, her vision being one of chaos and pain. Behind it all, was a womans face. Not just any face however, it was Y/N. A member of the Volturi, whose heart was set on pulling him limb from limb. Everyone in the house had decided it would be best if Edward were to depart from their permanent home, flee to Paris for a short time. He was akin to being alone, but to be alone while watching over your back 24/7 was not the same. While he hated every second of his existence; He knew that if he were to give up and let her kill him, she would surely only continue to his family. He couldn’t let that happen, so he kept moving in the shadows. She wouldn’t move on until she had his head.
He racked his brain, trying to figure out a long term plan as this could only work for so long. She was strong, killing her wouldn’t be easy nor would it be something he wanted to do. Perhaps he could change her mind, he could talk her down from her dedication.
He sighed, walking into the main room and grabbing his jacket.
He needed to eat.
The elevator ride down was slow, and he tapped his finger against his thigh. How he hated human life, but at the same time desired it more than anything. Tedious elevators, the need to eat every single day, the need to sleep. The doors finally slid open, allowing him to walk down the lobby and out of his building.
The street was unusually crowded at this time, the past five days the streets were deserted as soon as the clock struck nine-pm. He couldn’t run to the closest forrest or country plaine, he needed to leave the area before they could see him take off.
So, he started walking. Voices filled his head - the French didn’t try to hold back compared to Americans. Thats when he realized, it was friday night. There were people flooding the streets. More specifically, humans flooding the streets.
“Shit.” He breathed out, knowing that he’d not only have to cancel his meal, but interrupt someone else's. He started walking to the loud music, cursing himself for being this stupid. Who other than Edward Cullen would want to find his potential murderer?
As people danced to the music, he slid toward the bar. He ordered a beer to maintain face amongst the others around him.
“Merci.” He started to turn back to the dancing bodies, but stopped when he heard the order the bartender was receiving.
“Un whisky et un verre de ce champagne.“ The man said, waiting for his drinks to be prepared. Thats when Edward realized. He had ordered champagne. Both the human man and the bartender had thought it was weird someone would order champagne in a club like this. But she always ordered champagne, always. It was what she would tell her victims to order before she took them outside.
He watched the man take the drinks, hoping he was wrong about the partner. He cursed as he realized he wasn’t. She drank, flirted, and of course lured him outside. Throwing some coins on the bartop, he quickly followed. But, he was too late. Her body was flush against the human mans, she was having a bloody good meal. Edward would be lying if he didn’t debate joining her.
“I see you’re still denying your nature.” She pulled off of him, letting the body drop as she stood still.
“I see you’re still wearing red so you don’t need to worry about stains.” He replied. She smiled and turned to him, looking him from head to toe. “I don’t know why you still despise me after all these years, Y/N.” her smile faded.
“Despise you? No, Edward I quite admire you.” She walked over to him and pressed her hand to his shoulder, “I really do think you’re one of the strongest of our kind. You could be stronger, but you suppress yourself. You drink rats blood, while I drink how our kind is meant to. Shame, really.” She walked behind him and her hand wrapped around his neck. He couldn’t move, her powers overtook him. “Imagine the life you and I could lead if you would just submit”. He shuddered at the last word. He was always a sucker for her when it came to seduction and she knew it.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, nothing much. I just want the natural order to be restored.” She smiled and kissed his neck sofly. “Imagine yourself, in Italy with the most powerful of our kind. You could have me every night - for the rest of eternity.” his eyelashes fluttered as she continued kissing his neck. “Do you want to see how good it would feel to be with me every night?”
“Please.” He whimpered. Thats all she needed to release him from her grasp and push him against the dark brick wall. Their lips connected as if they were puzzle pieces, moving in perfect harmony with each other. She pulled away, slithering down on her knees, she was going to make him realize how much he needed her.
“Shall I?” She asked, running her hand up his thigh softly.
“Yes, God, please.” Edward begged, she loved hearing him beg for her touch.
“You always were weak when it came to sex, wonder if you still moan at the smallest, little,” Her hand groped his growing cock. His stomach fluttered with pleasure, and he couldn’t hold his moan, “Touch. Edward, you can read my mind, you can see what I have planned.” He looked inside her head, seeing the pleasure she could inflict upon his body if he would just wave a white flag.
As she took off his trousers, he debated surrendering or not. Was she worth living a life he wanted nothing more than to shun? Every time they saw each other, the sex was electric almost. She made him feel like a prey being hunted by a predator, and he loved that. As much as he hated to admit it, part of the reason he kept turning down the offer was because he didn’t want to ruin the cat and mouse relationship. He knew she loved the chase, that was why she was so persistent. But did he still feel a hatred towards her? Yes. He had seen her slaughter entire groups because she didn’t get her way. But tonight, he decided, he would wave a white flag and lower it once the sun rose.
He snapped back to reality, she hooked her fingers around the waistband of his briefs, looking up at him through her long lashes. He looked down, beginning to place his hands on her head, but was stopped by her pinning him to the wall. Her gift was useful in many situations.
Tugging down, she smiled when his dick was finally isolated. He was all hers tonight, he was painfully hard for her and only her. Her hand grasped the shaft, pumping a few times before licking a long stripe up. He made a moan of pleasure and she rewarded him with taking his length down her throat. She gagged and felt his hips buck, making her withdrawal.
“Wait-” He began.
“No, you broke the rules. What did I tell you about greed, Edward?”
“That it had no place in our sex life.” She smiled and stood, slapping his cheek a few times.
“Dress. We’ll be going to my hotel room, you may not deserve anything, but I do.” He rushed to pull up his pants and follow her.
She pushed him down on the bed as soon as the door was shut, lifting her dress up, she straddled him.
“Imagine, you agree and this is every night for the rest of our time.” Pulling down his pants she spat on her hand and guided him to her slick cunt. He slid in with ease, making her eyes roll into her skull. He could hear her mind scramble as she slowly rocked her hips. “Feel so fucking good, shame you have to be so fucking stupid.”. He was sure if he had blood he would have just bitten it and bled out. She was so fucking hot, watching her nails dig into his firm stomach. He adored her from this angle, especially when she didn’t even bother to to take her clothes off.
“Can I touch you, please?” She smiled and nodded, letting his hand move so his thumb could skillfully rub her clit, making the coil in her stomach tighten. Her movements got faster, and he heard her mind beg for more. He slightly lifted his hips while continuing his fingers. Her orgasm washed over her, causing her to scream out in pure bliss. She stopped her hips, swinging her leg over his body and straightening her dress. He looked at her in confusion, he still hadn’t cum.
“You can cum when you agree to join me. I had my fun, now leave.” She said coldly. He pulled his pants back up, stumbling back to the apartment he had spent every night and day in. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider saying yes to her.
As long as it was her
—
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#edward cullen fanfiction#edward cullen x reader smut#edward cullen x reader#edward cullen smut#headcannons twilight#twilight smut#robert pattinson x reader#robert pattinson smut#edward cullen fanfic
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me looking at my own post: you could fanfic out of this!
Anyway here’s how I think a typical “Martin’s Poetry Corner” would go!
~*~
Martin: And for my second thing, we’re going back to the poetry corner!
Jon: Again? Didn’t you have a poetry corner last week?
Martin: It’s been well over two months since the last poetry corner, my dear. And just for that comment I’m going to up the amount of the poetry corner. From now on this podcast is me reading poetry interjected with some guy talking nonsense.
Jon: You say that like the majority of our audience wouldn’t prefer that. Also, some guy? I’m wounded! Earlier you were calling me ‘beloved husband’ and ‘cherished one’ and now I’m ‘some guy’? What did I do to deserve that level of downgrade?
Martin: You decried the poetry corner!
Jon: I decried nothing! It was a purely non-judgmental comment on the frequency of it. If you want to do poem every week, I have nothing against that.
Martin: Hmm. I might test you on that. I know the whole point of this thing is to share things we think are lovely, and I do find all the poems I read lovely, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have an ulterior motive.
Jon: Oh? And what might your nefarious hidden agenda be?
Martin: I’m certain you’re the only one that would find it nefarious, but I can, must, shall, and will find a poem that affects you. Now, I’m sure the listeners at home would decry that goal. After all Mary Oliver, Maya Angelou, Wendy Cope, and Langston Hughes all did nothing. He didn’t even blink at “The Two-Headed Calf”, surely there can’t possibly-
Jon, laughing, which severely limits how much he’s able to sell his faux offense: I’ve been affected by poetry before!
Martin: Name one poem you had an actual strong reaction to.
Jon, smugly: It’s almost certainly not one you know. It’s called “Streets” and it’s by this really obscure author. God, what was his name? K was his middle initial I believe?
Martin, laughing: Piss off!
Jon: Well it’s true! I felt something at all of your poetry.
Martin: Liar! I very distinctly remember you calling it ‘almost affecting’! And you declared I was enamored with Keats, which doesn’t even make sense, we have wildly different composition styles.
Jon: You’re working from incomplete information. That tape was from my first read through. It was the reread where they got me.
Martin: Reread? I thought you hated rereading things?
Jon: Typically, yes. But. Ah. It was during the year you were gone.
Martin: Oh. Oh, love.
Jon: It’s been half a decade since then, Martin, I can assure you I’m fine. Though, I suppose reflecting on it, the affecting quality was more to do with who had written the poetry itself. Even now, you could write a grocery list for fun and I’d be hopelessly endeared by it.
Martin: Shut up.
Jon: I shall not! It’s been a hell of a road to get here, I think it’s more than acceptable to flaunt how much I like my husband, especially when he’s doing something he enjoys. In fact, I think it’d be more than appropriate if I did one of your poems for one of my wonderful things next week.
Martin: Absolutely not! Jon, there is a certain level of ‘embarrassing old men in love’ we’re allowed to be in the public sphere, and that would exceed it by, fuck, tenfold? Our quota would be wiped out for the year. For the next five years. No. Besides, my poems aren’t meant for anyone’s eyes and ears but my own, and occasionally you when you’re being nosy.
Jon, with audible shit eating grin: So you’re saying you wouldn’t like to hear your poetry in my voice?
Martin, having a gay panic despite being married to this man for years: I..uh..
Jon: Yes?
Martin: I would..I would like that very much. Privately. Er, please.
Jon: Well, since you asked so nicely. I suppose the poetry corner shall remain yours, for now.
Martin: Thank you for your grand generosity and understanding. Speaking of, should I get to the actual poem? I think I might have a winner with this one.
Jon: Please do.
Martin: So this week I’m bringing a poem written by an, as far as I can tell, unnamed ninth century Irish Monk-
Jon: -ninth century? Decided to abandon the contemporary route then?
Martin: Somewhat? The poem was written in the ninth century, but no one wants to hear me butcher the original, so I’m going to read the English translation by Seamus Heaney, which was done in 2006, so sort of contemporary? Depending how you look at it? Anyway, this is Pangur Bán:
Pangur Bán and I at work,
Adepts, equals, cat and clerk:
His whole instinct is to hunt,
Mine to free the meaning pent.
More than loud acclaim, I love
Books, silence, thought, my alcove.
Happy for me, Pangur Bán
Child-plays round some mouse’s den.
Truth to tell, just being here,
Housed alone, housed together,
Adds up to its own reward:
Concentration, stealthy art.
Next thing an unwary mouse
Bares his flank: Pangur pounces.
Next thing lines that held and held
Meaning back begin to yield.
All the while, his round bright eye
Fixes on the wall, while I
Focus my less piercing gaze
On the challenge of the page.
With his unsheathed, perfect nails
Pangur springs, exults and kills.
When the longed-for, difficult
Answers come, I too exult.
So it goes. To each his own.
No vying. No vexation.
Taking pleasure, taking pains,
Kindred spirits, veterans.
Day and night, soft purr, soft pad,
Pangur Bán has learned his trade.
Day and night, my own hard work
Solves the cruxes, makes a mark.
Isn’t that just delightful? Jon what did you-holy shit!
Jon, voice tight: What?
Martin: You teared up! You’re affected! Fuckin’ gottem!! I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known that the way to Jonathan Sims’ soul was through a poem about a man feeling kinship with his cat. Incredible.
Jon, slightly sniffling: It’s a very nice poem! You read it because it’s a very nice poem!
Martin: Yes it is! That doesn’t discount the fact that I have read poems about love and hardships and finding joy in being alive and it’s the one about the cat that gets to you. Of course. I love you.
Jon: I love you too. Even if you are a bit too victorious over this. I think that will wrap it up for this week?
Martin: Think so! And as we say at the end of every episode, uh, the way to a man’s heart is not through his stomach, but through cat poems from a thousand years ago.
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“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 18
>>Click here to read on Ao3<<
>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<
——-
CHAPTER 18: AFFETUOSO
Music glossary:
Affetuoso: to perform with passion and emotion
**Chapter illustration by @corgi-likes-chat **
----
(Mood Music: “Christofori’s Dream” - David Lanz)
Adrien’s eyelids fluttered open, a sleepy smile still present on his face. He breathed out a long, contented sigh, stretching his limbs out wide enough that they poked out of the bedcovers. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well.
Last night, after Marinette awoke him from his most harrowing night terror to date, he’d fallen back asleep and something remarkable happened: for the second time in years, he’d actually had a pleasant dream. The only other time he hadn’t suffered from his usual nightmares ever since becoming Chat Noir was on the first night that he’d arrived at the Dupain-Cheng residence.
He tried to think back, wondering what might have caused this, not just last night, but back on that first day Marinette had brought him home. What did these two occurrences have in common?
His mouth quirked to the side and his brow furrowed, deep in thought, trying to remember. He wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind when he’d arrived a couple of months back, given all that had happened when he ran away from his father; so it was no surprise that his memory of that night was hazy at best. Nevertheless, he hoped to find a correlation; if there was one, maybe he could figure out how to repeat it.
His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand sliding across his midsection. Disturbed by his movements, a smaller body rolled toward him, settling comfortably on his chest and breathing out a drowsy sigh.
He looked down and there she was: sweet, lovely Marinette; one of the dearest and most important people in his life. The raven-haired girl stirred, letting out a small whine; Adrien stilled, subconsciously holding his breath, not wanting to wake her and accidentally reveal his identity.
This became much harder when she reached around him, her fingers lightly skimming across his rib cage. His muscles tensed and he bit back a laugh; why did he have to be so darn ticklish?!
He readjusted himself, trying to shuffle out from underneath her; but she clinged to him like an overgrown barnacle, even in her unconscious state. I guess she’s a cuddler, he thought, and he couldn’t help but smile about how well that suited her.
It was still pretty dark in the room, as the sun hadn’t risen yet. He glanced over at the wall clock; he still had about an hour and a half before he had to report to work at the bakery, so he didn’t have to rush to get ready. Relieved, he sagged back down onto his pillow. He could relax for a little longer, he supposed.
Deciding to check his notifications while Marinette slept, he gingerly reached towards his nightstand to grab his phone, careful not to disturb her. He’d deactivated all his social media accounts since running away from home, so there weren’t very many notifications; there was a school-related email and a couple of late night funny memes from Nino.
Adrien checked the Ladyblog next. No news about any akumas this morning, thankfully. However, there were a few blurry snapshots of the previous night’s attack. He scrolled down for a bit, then stopped, his eyes popping open as he focused his attention on a particular photo.
He couldn’t suppress the lovestruck sigh that escaped his lips when he stared at a picture of Ladybug. His Lady was breathtaking, her eyes so ethereal, her smile utterly resplendent. She was indescribably beautiful, both inside and out and there was absolutely nothing he would change about her. He was hopelessly smitten, no doubt about it.
A few months ago, he would have berated himself for feeling this way about his mortal enemy. But his entire life had been turned upside down since then, and he wholeheartedly embraced this unexpected development.
The next photo was taken after the akuma was purified and the Miraculous Cure had set everything back to where it should be. Ladybug had seen that Alya was about to snap a photo, so she grabbed Chat and turned him around to face the camera, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. She grinned widely, and did a peace sign with her free hand. So cute.
He glanced over to his own face and instinctively grimaced. He was winking at the camera with a goofy, cheerful salute, not bothering to channel the suave, sophisticated mannerisms of a proper model that he’d incurred over the years. God, I’m so cringy, he thought.
Nevertheless, he saved the picture onto his phone. It was the first photo of them together like this, as opposed to impersonal ones taken by the media from afar, or during press releases and interviews.
It had only been posted a few hours ago, but already it had thousands of likes and comments. He didn’t dare look through those, however. Not since he first discovered the kinds of things people wrote about Chat Noir, both before and after his change in alliances. It was better to avoid those, lest he ruin his day reading about how much some people still hated him.
But he remembered Marinette’s words from the night before. She was right; he had to have hope, and believe that things would slowly get better. Attitude was everything.
Speaking of Marinette…
He looked down at his roommate once again. By this point, she’d slinked and climbed almost entirely on top of him, utilizing him like a mattress. His eyebrows scrunched together, and he wondered how in the world he’d be able to slip out of bed undetected.
All the stealth-based videogames I’ve ever played have prepared me for this moment. I got this!! he thought, hyping himself up.
Taking a deep breath in, he rolled over to his side, managing to slide Marinette’s ragdoll-like form back onto the mattress. She made a small noise and he froze, electricity crawling up the back of his neck. A few tense moments passed, and her stirring subsided, her breathing becoming slow and even once again. He exhaled, just now realizing he’d been holding his breath.
Freedom!! Adrien celebrated as he stood, stretching his arms high over his head, taking care not to hit the ceiling lights. His skin felt grimy with dried sweat from the night before; a shower was exactly what he needed right now. He tiptoed over to get a change of clothes from the dresser, giving the occasional glance towards the bed to make sure Marinette was still asleep.
As he made his way to the bathroom, he stopped by her side, a warm smile spreading across his face. He bent over and gave the top of her head a small kiss. Where would he be without her and her family? She and Sabine especially went out of their way to help him feel at home, to make him feel like he belonged, instead of treating him like a nuisance, or like some freeloader just taking up space. He loved them all so much; he vowed to himself to make it up to them someday.
He pulled the bedcovers up to Marinette’s shoulders so she wouldn’t miss the extra warmth too much, then made his way to the bathroom to start the day.
--
Marinette stirred, enveloped in softness and a familiar scent of spice and fresh rain. Eyes still closed, she extended her arm, reaching for the oversized cat pillow on her bed that she always liked to cuddle.
Her searching hand found something soft. Aha! She brought it closer, snuggling it tight, then began to get comfortable again. But then, her pillow started poking her cheek, over and over and over. The pillow’s poking only intensified when she tried squeezing it even harder. How rude!
Wait... what?
A single eyelid groggily slid open, meeting a small pair of eyes of a distinctive shade of green. A rather frazzled-looking Plagg stared back, his expression unamused from being squished between her and the pillow she was hugging.
“Sorry, Plagg,” she slurred sleepily as she pulled away to give him some space. “What are you doing here?”
He crossed his little arms, raising a brow. “I live here, remember?”
“But why are you in my room–– oh, wait…” she stopped, the memory of last night starting to rush back to her. This wasn’t her room; it was Chat’s. She’d slept in his room last night. And the bed she was lying in was his bed. These were his blankets and pillows, and they carried his scent. Heat rose to her face and a multitude of imaginary butterflies swarmed in her stomach as she realized that she’d actually spent the night with him, albeit under less than ideal circumstances.
And then a second realization dawned on her: Chat Noir was gone.
She sat up with a start, her head whipping back and forth to search for him. As she was about to panic, she heard the shower running in the en suite bathroom, punctuated by some cheerful humming. With a heavy, relieved sigh, she laid back down, careful not to squish the tiny cat god next to her.
“By the way, Little Bug,” Plagg murmured, meekly rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks for helping my kid last night.”
“Oh, of course, Plagg!” she replied. “I’m always happy to help however I can.”
He gave her a melancholy smile. “I just wish there was more I could’ve done. I tried waking him up myself, but he couldn’t hear me at all, no matter how hard I tried.” He sighed, twisting his mouth into a pained frown. “He doesn’t deserve this. He's already gone through so much.”
“Plagg, no, it’s okay! You did your best, and I’m sure Chat knows that too. I’m just glad I was able to get through to him. It was lucky that I happened to be downstairs at that time. Chat couldn’t ask for a better friend than you.”
Plagg grinned widely at her. “I always knew I liked you,” he remarked, scooting closer and nuzzling into her.
Marinette smiled back, returning the hug and kissing the top of his head, followed by providing him with some gentle scratches behind the ears. He let out a small, contented purr as he leaned into her hand.
After a few moments of hesitation, Plagg spoke again, “Little Bug, there’s... something else you need to know.”
They pulled apart, and Marinette eyed him with trepidation. “What is it?”
“It was too dark, so you didn’t see it, but–” he said with a grim tone in his voice, “–I need to let you know what really happened last night.”
“Huh?” Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. “What do you mean? I know he said his night terrors aren’t usually this bad, but was there something else?”
A dark look flickered on Plagg’s face. “Hawkmoth tried to akumatize him last night.”
Marinette felt like she’d been dropped into a vat of ice water. “W- WHAT?!” she sputtered. “B-but how is that possible?! Akumatized?? He was asleep! Hawkmoth can’t akumatize people who are unconscious!!” She paused, pondering the possibility. “Right…?”
“It’s tricky, but not impossible,” Plagg replied. “Hawkmoth knows about Chat Noir’s nightmares, so he must’ve sensed his opportunity and finally taken it last night.”
Marinette brought a hand to her temple in disbelief.
Plagg continued, “I don’t know why he decided to try it now, instead of when he first ran away. And what if–” he gulped, and his voice quavered slightly as he continued, unable to conceal his fear, “What if he tries it again? What if he tries it every night?”
“No… he wouldn’t… he can’t!!” Marinette cried, staring at the bathroom door, her mind racing a million miles a minute. She clenched her fists as she tried not to give into the feelings of dismay and anxiety that were clawing away at her. “Plagg… What do we do?! Hawkmoth’s patterns seem to be getting more erratic and desperate recently. Is he under some kind of deadline? Why is he doing this??”
“I can think of a couple of reasons,” Tikki answered from across the room.
Marinette practically leaped off the bed in surprise due to Tikki’s abrupt entrance. “Tikki!” she exclaimed.
The brightly colored kwami hovered towards them and elaborated, “Firstly, as Chat grows older, his powers will continue to get stronger, as will yours, so you’ll be more difficult for Hawkmoth to defeat as time goes on. Secondly, I think the effects of misusing the butterfly miraculous must be catching up to him as well. His desperation suggests that maybe he thinks he’s running out of time.”
“Out of time? What do you mean?” Marinette asked, confused.
Plagg sighed. “It’s his health,” he answered. "He wasn’t doing very well even before we left. Slowly but steadily, it’s been getting worse for a while.” He turned to face Tikki. “You think Hawkmoth believes that he’s gonna… you know... soon?”
Tikki shrugged in response, her expression blank.
“Oh… I see,” Marinette said, her voice almost a whisper.
Her mind raced, a torrent of emotions crashing into her simultaneously, like a rowboat in a tempest, slamming into a cliffside without respite.
She wasn’t sure how to feel about this new information. Her chest felt tight, like it did when she wanted to cry. Should she feel happy or sad that her mortal enemy was getting sicker and sicker, to the point where his life was potentially in danger? Was it okay to feel–dare she say it– relieved?
What was she supposed to think? As a hero, was it more important to be merciful, or was it more important to be just? Her heart felt like it was being pulled in two completely opposite directions. Despite hating the man with every fiber of her being, part of her thought that maybe dying was too extreme a punishment. And yet, at the same time, the hurt, embittered part of herself thought that maybe dying would be too easy, like he was getting let off the hook instead of being forced to acknowledge his wrongs and feel remorse for the horrible things he’d done.
For years, she’d dreamed about the day when Hawkmoth would be defeated and his miraculous confiscated. It was supposed to be a happy time, full of rejoicing and excitement. But she’d never considered the possibility that Hawkmoth would be defeated by an entirely different force, one that she had no say in how or when it happened. It didn’t feel fair. She hated feeling this powerless.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a brief tug at her sleeve. She looked down at Tikki, who motioned towards the bathroom with a small nod. It was then that she noticed the noise–or rather– the absence of it, which could only mean one thing: Chat Noir had finished his shower, and he’d be coming out of the bathroom any minute now.
“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Tikki whispered.
Marinette nodded. She turned to Plagg and whispered, “We’ll talk more later. I’ll call Master Fu later today and see if he has any advice.”
“M’kay. See ya,” he replied with a small wave. “Bye, Sugarcube.”
Tikki looked back and gave him a reassuring smile, then followed Marinette out the door.
Plagg hovered towards the windowsill while he waited for his charge, plopping down with a heavy sigh. He leaned against the window, taking in the many colors of the dawn sky, which looked almost too bright and vibrant for his liking. How dare the heavens look so beautiful while he felt so miserable inside? The day hadn’t even really started, and yet the only thing he wanted to do was to just crawl back into bed. He dearly hoped that the heavy, uneasy feeling in his gut would go away soon.
(A short while later)
Work at the bakery had been lively and hectic today; so much so that Chat Noir had to be reminded when his shift was over and that he needed to head to school. He gave Sabine a parting hug, the latter thanking him for his hard work and giving him some encouraging words as she helped dust the flour off his suit and hair.
Chat retrieved his cloak from a coat hanger by the door and stepped into the stairwell that led to the living quarters, so that he could retrieve his school supplies and exit through Marinette’s balcony trap door as he normally did. That was definitely one of the plus sides of working in the kitchen while transformed; he could wear his school outfit underneath and not require a change of clothes or a shower when he was through. He could merely detransform and be good as new.
As he ascended up the stairs, he heard a familiar deep voice call out to him from below. Chat froze, then turned around, trying to keep his nerves under control.
“Could I speak with you for a minute?” Tom asked.
Uh-oh.
“O-of course, Mr. Dupain,” Chat replied, trying to keep his voice even despite his nerves.
Tom’s face was mostly neutral, but his body was rigid and there was a hint of gloom in his eyes. Chat did his best not to cringe as he stood in front of the much taller man who, despite not being a superhero, looked like he could toss him clear to the Eiffel Tower if he felt like it. To prevent himself from fidgeting, Chat finally opted to stick his hands inside his pockets.
“What is it, sir? D-did I do something wrong?” he asked. “I was running a bit late, so I apologize if I didn’t put something back in the right spot. O-or did I mess up an order?? I’m sorry, I can go back and fix… whatever it is!”
“No, everything’s fine; it’s something else,” he answered, and Chat felt the stiffness in his shoulders ease a tiny bit.
However, it came back full force when Tom didn’t say anything else. Chat’s heartbeat sped up as they stood face to face in silence, unsure of the route this conversation was about to take.
What else could he be in trouble for? Did he find out Marinette had fallen asleep in his bedroom yesterday? Oh no… Did Tom think he and Marinette had… done something unseemly together last night?! Was he getting kicked out of the house?? His mind raced and his chest thumped, and he prepared himself to beg on his knees for forgiveness if need be.
A few agonizingly long and awkward seconds later, Tom spoke again, “Chat Noir… I wanted to apologize to you.”
“Oh, I see. Wait… WHAT?!?” Chat felt like someone had yanked the carpet out from underneath him. “Apologize?? What for?”
Tom lifted his arm to rub the back of his head, his entire posture taut as a bowstring. “We didn’t really get off on the right foot, you and I. You’ve been nothing but cordial and polite, and all I’ve done since you arrived is give you the cold shoulder, and for that I’m truly sorry. I wanted to clear the air and start over, if that’s okay with you.”
“Mr. Dupain! N-no, please, it’s okay!” Chat sputtered, his hands waving frantically. “I totally understand why you would have reservations about me living here, o-or even interacting with you guys at all! They’re totally justified concerns! I mean, up until a few months ago, I was still working with Hawkmoth; so the fact that you even allowed me into your home at all is incredibly kind of you! I’ve never felt any ill will towards you, I swear! You were just doing what any good father would––” he trailed off, trying to keep the melancholy out of his voice, “–would do.”
Tom winced and sighed heavily, crossing his arms. “That’s exactly my point, though. It may have been justified at first, but that was back then . I tolerated you for the sake of my wife and daughter, but I was always suspicious. I should’ve given you a chance instead of just judging you for no reason, especially after all this time. So I wanted to try to make it up to you.”
It was then that Tom brought something shiny out of his shirt pocket. It was an adorable little keychain shaped like a croissant. But wait… no, it wasn’t just a keychain, Chat realized. There was a key dangling on the end. A house key. Tom handed it over, doing his best to try to conceal a timid smile.
Chat gaped at him, reeling from what was happening. “I… I don’t know what to say. That is so generous of you! Thank you, Mr. Dupain,” he replied meekly, staring into his hands at the key. HIS key.
He felt the man’s large hand pat him on the shoulder and Chat looked up, meeting his soft, forest green eyes. “Please, call me Tom.”
Chat had to consciously fight the urge to let his jaw drop. If he wasn’t dreaming last night with Ladybug’s revelation, he was surely dreaming now. “Y-yes, sir! Uhh, Mr. Tom, sir. Uhh, I mean…” he stammered, still not recovered from having been gobsmacked out of nowhere.
The older man gave out a hearty laugh. “Just Tom. And please, if there’s anything you need, just say the word. Even if it’s just someone to lend an ear. You’ve got a good heart despite the bad hand that’s been dealt to you, and you have so much potential. We’re happy to have you in our family, even if you’re only here temporarily. Just know you’ll always have a home here with us.”
Chat’s heart swelled with affection, so full that it felt like it might burst, and his eyesight became blurry with unshed tears. He threw his arms around the giant man in front of him, someone who he never thought would fully accept him, squeezing hard.
“Thank you, Tom! Thank you so much, I’m just–” he let out a shuddering sigh then continued, voice cracking, “–thank you.”
Tom squeezed back firmly, giving him an affectionate pat. Failing to hide a sniffle, he then added, “I should let you get going, I don’t wanna make you late for school.” The pair pulled apart, and Tom ruffled Chat’s hair. “Be safe out there, kiddo.”
After saying their goodbyes, Chat bounded up the stairs, practically floating with glee. He’d missed this feeling; the feeling of being part of a family. As he emerged onto the rooftop balcony, he took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, his heart full of excitement and hope.
He arrived at the school in high spirits and a huge grin on his face. He detransformed in a discreet location and practically skipped to the school’s entrance; then he entered the campus, carefree, joyful, and blissfully unaware of the dark eyes that followed him inside.
#Miraculous Ladybug#Enemies AU#Marinette Dupain Cheng#Adrien Agreste#Chat Noir#Ladybug#Ladynoir#enemies to lovers#fanfiction#Discordant Sonata#ML AU#aged up#Eden writes#art by others#Fanfic art
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hiii i loved that fic you wrote for wanda and the reader! i think incorporating wanda's glowy powers would be cool, maybe if she was able to get her girl off while standing far away and really dominating her like that
Pairing: MCU Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch & Female Reader
Summary: Wanda gets a little sick of you not paying her the attention she deserves and decides now is the time to bust out her powers.
Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, oral sex, use of sex toys, BDSM
A/N: Sorry I took FOREVER to write this I just had to keep re-writing it, this is the draft I hated the least so hopefully you enjoy it. Also "All Work and No Play" has over 100 notes which probably isn't a lot to most of you but I appreciate it so much since it's my first time writing in so long.
You absolutely had it coming tonight. Date night, fancy restaurant, Wanda arriving home from work with flowers before bringing you out. All of that and yet you were still sat at dinner quietly, absent-mindedly pushing your food around your plate, only half listening to the girl in front of you.
You should've known that Wanda was never going to stand for you being quiet like this on your first date night in weeks
The starters had come and gone, and you were just finishing up your main courses when you felt something light graze up your neck and around your ear. Startled, you jolted around to see where it came from, but seeing no one near you, you assumed it had been your hair and turned back around, still not paying enough attention to the girl in front of you to notice the shit-eating grin on her face.
If you were unsure of who was touching you, you were about to know exactly who it was.
The feather-like touch that had grazed you before had now moved to the back of your legs, slowly applying more pressure as they rose upwards until all of sudden, it didn't feel much like a feather anymore. No, it was definitely a hand.
Wanda sat back in her chair, crossing her arms as you looked up from your meal, putting two and two together about the source of the phantom touch. As the hands you were feeling slowly gripped your ass, before one of them sneaked around to the front, dragging nails on the inside of your thigh, you sat forward, now paying her the attention she wanted.
"I thought we said we'd wait and see about you using your powers, I still don't know if I want to", you said sternly, although you couldn't deny that it did feel good to have her touch you, it always did.
"Actually, you said we should wait, I don't remember agreeing", she smirked, knowing that you were enjoying it at least a little bit. Who did you think you were, lying to a telepath.
"Wanda, we're in public, even if I wanted to we can't", you retorted.
"If you wanted to? I don't even need to read your mind to see how turned on you are, sweetheart."
It was with that remark that you became conscious of how heaby your breathing had gotten as the ghostly hand on your thigh had switched from scratching your sensitive skin, to lightly grazing its fingertips along you. You were also starting to regret wearing such a low cut dress, because without even looking you could feel the heat in your chest and you knew it would be bright red, making your arousal clear. Even if you had chastised Wanda for acting like this in public, the idea of her taking you right there in front of everyone as they were none the wiser had definitely turned you on.
You stopped your thoughts in their tracks, knowing exactly who would be listening to them.
"Fine", you huffed, "you can use your powers on me all you want tonight, but can we please just hurry up and leave".
She smirked wide enough that even the Cheshire Cat would be envious, but you would never be so lucky as to just get what you want right off the bat.
"Oh, baby, you know I'd love to take you home right now."
You knew there was a "but" coming that was going to make your night pure torture.
"But"- there it was- "we ordered dessert at the start of the night because you just couldn't keep your eyes off that brownie you saw the girl at the next table with. Since you wanted it so badly we can't leave, kitten, it wouldn't be fair."
Damn you and your stupid brownie.
The subsequent hour of eating and waiting for the bill could've been a lot easier if it weren't for Wanda wanting to find out just how turned on she could get you from the opposite side the of table. Her seemingly normal conversations about art, music and politics were only made to make it seem to others like you were a normal couple, completely masking all the times you nearly choked as she would dip a single finger inside of you, without ever moving a muscle.
The small moans that did manage to escape were explained away to those beside you as your dessert being particularly good, making the brownie a very popular choice for the tables around you.
Despite your little "When Harry Met Sally" moments, you eventually got her out of the restaurant and home without any major incidents, but she was certainly testing you, edging and teasing you the whole way home while never taking her eyes off the road. She had playfully threatened to use her powers on your before and you were really starting to wish you had let it happen sooner, maybe ignoring her and being a brat was actually the way to go.
Whatever calm facade she had put on in the car was gone as soon as you crossed the threshold of your house, as she chased you up the stairs to your bedroom, catching you in the hallway just outside it and pushing you against the wall, her eyes glowing red in a way you had only ever seen when she was angry. She kissed you hard before quickly moving to work on your neck, biting down on the skin, making you hiss. Your reaction only seemed to spur her on further, as she started sucking on the sensitive flesh, claiming you with the marks she was leaving behind.
Had your eyes been open you probably would've noticed the red glow coming from her fingers, before feeling an unfamiliar buzzing sensation in your underwear, making you shriek from the surprise and the pleasure.
"What, you don't like it, princess?", she teases, grinning into your neck as she continues her assault on it, her hands holding you tightly in place, just how she wants you.
The moan you gave in response clearly wasn't a good enough response, as the hand that had been holding your jaw moved to your neck, squeezing tightly as she pulled back from you, eyes still glowing a bright crimson colour.
"Answer me, sweetheart", she said sternly, tilting her head and squinting at you in a way that made your stomach turn.
Wanda had always been the more dominant one in your relationship, but tonight was different, she was cocky and arrogant and you loved every second of it.
"I love it, baby, p-please don't stop", you begged.
"Is this what I have to do to get your attention, are you that much of a little slut? I take you out for dinner, get you flowers and dress up for you and yet it takes me fucking you under the table to get your attention? If that's what it takes then I'll fuck you until you can't walk,", she growled deeply into your ear and all of a sudden you knew you were really in for it tonight, "but I don't think you deserve to actually feel me, baby, so I'm going to have some real fun with you tonight"
Dragging you into your bedroom, she forced you down onto the bed, hovering over you and kissing you while the vibrations continued, getting stronger with each passing minute, making your moans dirtier and louder as she upped the pace. What you couldn't see was her hands summoning what she needed to punish you for the night.
Just as you could feel yourself getting close to your release, she felt it too, stopping the vibrations over your clit, before standing up, pulling you upwards with her to strip you down. She stared right at your naked form while she stripped herself in front of you.
Sick of her just gawking a you, you sat forward and began kissing her stomach and tracing your fingers along her sides and thighs, looking up at her for approval, only to be met with a smirk and her hand in your hair, before she grasped it tightly in her fist, making your gasp again.
"Don't try and be good for me now, baby girl, it's far too late for that", she snarled, getting right in your face, only to push you back onto the bed and rolling you so you were lying on your stomach, almost instinctively smacking your ass as soon as she saw it.
You felt her straddle you as she leaned down and lifted your face off the duvet, wrapping a ball gag around the front of your mouth and tying it tightly behind your head
Moving down your body, she tied your wrists together with hand cuffs, and then did the same to your ankles, looping the cuffs on your feet around those on your wrists to hold your legs and arms in the air behind you. She grabbed the intersection of the cuffs and lifted you by it surprisingly easily, turning you to face the chair in the corner of the bedroom.
You whined against your gag as you saw her walk away towards the chair, swaying her hips as she went, just rubbing it in further that you couldn't touch her, but she clearly felt even more confident than usual.
She lay across the chair so her legs draped over the arm rest, her eyes no longer glowing as she had composed herself again, knowing exactly what she had planned for you.
"Ready, sweetheart?", she said with a smirk, knowing full well you couldn't answer.
You immediately felt a finger dipping inside you and the buzzing you had felt earlier resuming, making you struggle fruitlessly against your restraints, before you felt a second finger enter you roughly. Her pace was relentless inside you, curling the phantom digits just enough to hit your sweet spot every time, making sure you groaned into your gag.
"Look at me, princess", she said softly, as if she wasn't ruining you from across the room. Her hand began to sneak down between her legs as she watched you struggle and heard the filthy sounds she was forcing out of you.
The sight of her only made the feeling more intense, as she stared deep into your eyes with a grin before you felt a third finger enter you. After all the edging you tried to keep quiet, hoping to hide how close you were to cumming as she upped the speed of the vibrations on your clit even further.
Just as you reached the edge, you felt all the sensations stop, making you groan loudly at the feeling of being empty.
"Oh, baby, you don't think I can feel what my fingers are doing? Don't you realise I can feel you getting tighter and wetter for me? You think I wouldn't notice you cumming all over my fingers just because I'm not physically doing it? Even if your thoughts weren't so loud I'd know exactly what you were doing, princess."
She continued touching herself as you felt something new trying to enter you. You knew the feeling as soon as it dipped inside of you, unsure whether you were actually feeling her strap on, or if she had just created it with her powers. You didn't have time to think about it before you felt its full length being forced inside of you, stretching you further even than her fingers had. The feeling on your clit too had been replaced, what was once a vibrating sensation was now the softness of Wanda's tongue, licking small circles on your nerves and sucking it gently between her lips.
You wanted to close your eyes and just feel everything she was giving you, but the sight before you was just too good too miss, Wanda's head now thrown back over the arm of the chair, panting aggressively as her eyes started to glow again.
She picked up the pace of her tongue and the strap on, making you drool onto the ball gag as you got close again, so desperately needing to let go for her. Knowing how much she was enjoying the show, you rocked your hips back onto the strap on as much as you could, and let every moan come out onto the gag, getting louder with every thrust.
"Come on, princess, c-come for me. Come for mommy", she demanded.
Her commands sent you over the edge, forcing your body to convulse in front of her as you shrieked louder into the gag than you thought possible, coating her strap with your cum as it forced itself deep and hard into you, while her tongue suckled desperately at your clit.
She continued long as you had come down, forcing you into another orgasm, despite your protests and trying to wiggle out of your restraints, while she kept touching herself, not allowing herself to cum until she was satisifed with her work.
As your body slumped down hard against the bed, legs and wrists still bound, you looked up through hooded eyes to see Wanda desperate to cum, sweat dripping down her soft skin and her red hair sticking to her forehead as she let out deep, throaty moans. You groaned to get her attention, wanting to badly to be the one that got her off.
"You wanna help mommy cum, baby?", she asked breathlessly.
You nodded enthusiastically, as she stood up and came towards the bed. Too happy with how helpless you were, she decided to leave you all tied up for her as she removed the gag on your mouth, before lifting one leg onto the bed so you could place your head between her legs easily.
Feeling how desperate and swollen her pussy was, you wrapped your lips around her clit quickly as you felt her hand go to your hair, holding your head close to her.
"That's it, sweetheart, such a good little mouth for mommy. Just a little more, baby, make mommy cum nice and hard for you."
You knew she was the one in control, but the desperation in her voice, hearing her nearly beg made you need to feel her cumming even more. You quickened the movements of your tongue, drawing circles on her clit in the way you knew would make her head spin, sucking it between your lips harshly, forcing a scream out of her mouth.
Her grip on your hair tightened as she spewed praises for you, cumming with one final scream, throbbing between your lips as she threw her head back, panting as she felt you kiss her clit softly as she came down, stroking the side of your face as she felt you tasting her cum.
"Good girl, you're my good girl. You made mommy so proud, sweetheart."
You smiled as you looked back up at her, wriggling against your cuffs so she would get the hint, which she did immeditately, leaning down over you to unlock them. She moved your exhausted body up the bed towards the pillows, pulling the lotion from the other side of the room while sitting on the bed beside you.
Wanda smiled down at you as you rolled onto your back, kissing your lips softly as she took your hands and started rubbing lotion into your wrists to soothe them, kissing your hands as she went. She admired the marks on your neck and collarbones as she massaged your wrists, watching you fall asleep quickly after the night's activities.
It was then that she silently hoped you never behaved again.
#marvel#mcu#marvel cinematic universe#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff#scarlet witch#fanfiction#fanfic#wlw smut#marvel smut#smut
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Business (Mis)Management
AYO you know the drill. MGI Trope Tussle!
Fics Masterlist
Timari Oneshot 2.3K words
Summary:
"Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making. "
One shot using two prompts for this server event:
Day 3:College AU
Day 5: "Why'd you do that?" "I- I don't know..."
without further ado:
It was Tuesday, bright and early at 9:30 am, and Marinette was ready to commit murder. She was sitting in her Intro to Business Management course with her cup of coffee and notepad ready and pencil about to snap in her grip. Right before her, where her professor usually stood every Tuesday and Thursday, stood a surprise guest lecturer. One problem, though. Marinette hates the guy. She hates him and his stupid well-fitting suit that she dedicated actual blood sweat and tears into making.
Right there, on this awful Tuesday morning, stood one Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne looking all the world like he would rather be anywhere else; stupid rich people were all the same, thinking the world was doing them a favour by letting them grace everyone else with their presence. Marinette also wishes he was anywhere else but life doesn’t work that way. Her actual professor stood off to the side, waxing sonnets about how accomplished the young CEO was and Marinette listened to none of it. Rather, she was silently stewing in her thoughts, lost in how this man became the particularly large thorn in her side.
It was six months ago when she got an email asking for a commission. A commission for the exact three piece suit he was wearing today. He had gotten her contact from another client and his emailed request was perfect and professional. He had asked for the suit, listed all the required measurements and requested any personalizations he wanted. They couldn’t meet for any in-person fittings so it was currently both aggravating and satisfying to see it fit his lean figure so perfectly. The drama didn’t start, however, until two weeks after, when Marinette had sent the finished product to the designated address. While Marinette isn’t one for showboating and bragging about her capabilities, it grinds her teeth when others try to talk down on her skills.
When Marinette had sent off the suit, and emailed the man that the package was to be expected within three business days, she got a rather crude email in response, labeling her work as ‘tacky’ and a ‘pathetic attempt at wiggling her way into his family’s pockets.’ That had her doubletaking at the sender, making sure it wasn’t some spam mail that she was reading. Nope, that’s his email right there. Marinette remembered a particular twitch she had in her eye the first time she read that email. It was one thing to be ungrateful of a finished product, Marinette was no stranger to harsh critiques and pieces that worked better on paper than as actualized designs, but the accusation of being a gold-digger set off warning bells that threw her back into the tenth grade where she had battles with a rich blonde with daddy issues. At least he had paid her in advance for the suit. Marinette would have been perfectly fine with silently cutting all ties with Mr. Wayne right then and there, and putting the whole ordeal behind her, until he decided that a crassly worded email wasn’t enough. No. He felt compelled to go on national television and insult her suit for everyone to hear. Marinette remembers his words perfectly, as if they were ingrained in her memory forever.
“You’ve seen the suits I’ve worn, I look like I escaped my own funeral. I’ve tried local, and outsourcing designers and tailors and nothing matches my taste. I’m only twenty-three and I dress like I’ve gone through my third divorce—”Marinette had turned off the television to shamelessly cry into her pillow. She couldn’t bear to hear him insult her design over the poorly timed laughs of the ‘live-studio audience’ that particular interview was filmed in front of.
After that, Marinette had reaffirmed her conclusion that all rich people were assholes best left to their own privileged bubble.
A solid clap snapped her attention back to the front of the lecture hall, eyes narrowing at the man by the podium. The presentation pulled up on the smart board indicated that he was going to be speaking to them about professionalism and how to engage in buyer-seller conversations. Oh that was bloody perfect. What did this guy know about any of those things?
The time was 9:45 exactly when the guy decided to start his presentation.
“Hello, everyone,” his voice was smooth and firm, not wavering while speaking before a hall filled with two hundred students. “My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne but you all can just call me Tim. It’s lovely to meet all of you and I’m honoured to be here speaking for you today.”
Cue a very predictable, very standard, very boring introduction. Marinette was beginning to tune out at this point.
“To start off this presentation, I would like to talk about misunderstandings in professional conversations.” He started walking across the front of the room. Slow and methodical; he knew he had all eyes on him and he was taking full advantage of it. Marinette wanted to gag. “Additionally, I want to discuss how to avoid them, and what to do if miscommunication occurs.”
Blah, blah blahblah. Marinette didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him.
“To start off, I’m going to talk about a situation I found myself in not too long ago.” That caught her attention. “It’s funny now and makes for great dinner conversation but not so much when it had happened. How many of you siblings?”
He paused and surveyed the room. His eyes passed over Marinette and for a brief second she thought he focused on her for a blink longer than necessary. She banished the thought from her mind; she didn’t have siblings so he had no reason to notice her.
“Now,” he continued, “how many of you have siblings who aren’t afraid to sabotage your work when they’re mad at you?”
Another pause as some of the students lowered their hands. Some were unsure and Marinette had a weird feeling in her gut. Her instincts were screaming at her but she couldn’t figure out why.
“Don’t feel shy,” the guy raised his hand to join the students, “my younger brother is a menace who can and has attempted to sabotage my business. Just recently in fact.”
Marinette looked around the room to see quite a few surprised faces. She was vaguely familiar with the Wayne family and remembered a few details about the youngest child. He was a menace, that’s for sure. As egotistical as any thirteen year old can be. That feeling in her gut returned with vigor. She was suddenly very alert and eager, almost desperate, to figure out how the ankle biter had sabotaged this man.
“About six months ago my brothers and I were butting heads as usual. My sister was enjoying everything while shit hit the fan from a safe distance. I’m not going to go into much details.” He’s arms were waving animatedly as he spoke. It was quite endearing. NO. Bad thoughts, Marinette. “The point of all this is that I pissed my younger brother off somehow. I don’t know, maybe I breathed too hard on his cat or something.” That got a laugh out of the students except Marinette. Six months. He said his brother had sabotaged him around six months ago. That gut feeling had turned her stomach into a pit, eating away at her nerves.
“My brother had hacked into my email and sent absolutely horrible replies to everyone that was marked as important in my contacts in a poor attempt at pretending to be me. Of course, most of those contacts work at Wayne Enterprises. It took a courtesy email explaining the mishap and a personal visit with an apology gift to clear the air. Now for the contacts who don’t work at Wayne E, that’s where it gets tricky.”
Marinette was holding her breath, wishing for this day to already be over and for the ground to open and swallow her whole. She both hoped she was and wasn’t wrong. On the one hand, it meant that he was truly that harsh in replying to her and she wasn’t among the contacts his brother emailed, justifying her slowly dwindling fury. On the other more plausible hand, it meant that he wasn’t responsible for the crude email. It still didn’t explain the interview he did but…but she never did watch the entire thing. She had started watching the interview already expecting him to tear her down. He never referenced her suit by any specifics before she had changed the channel. That probably meant that she had poorly misjudged him. But she would have been contacted in some way if she was among those people and she hadn’t. So he was still an ass to her. Right?
“For those who I couldn’t visit in person,” Oh god, he was still speaking. “I sent them more personal emails compared to what I sent the employees. That was really the most I could do and I hoped for the best. I got a reply from most; they were rather understanding, actually, some even claiming that their own siblings would do something like that. It went over pretty well.” He suddenly had this forlorn look as he rubbed his hands absentmindedly against the suit.
“While I was lucky that most of my contacts were understanding, one important thing to be prepared for is people who won’t be that forgiving. Do you see this suit I’m wearing? I love this suit. I will absolutely get buried in this suit. I had commissioned and received it just before the email fiasco and I, regrettably, never got a response when I tried to both thank and apologize to them. My brother had used my email to accuse them of being a gold-digger of all things. I would have loved to commission them again but it looks like my brother burned that bridge permanently.”
What? No. That’s not true and Marinette felt hot rage flare up in her. Was he really lying to try and save face right now? She felt the strong urge to interrupt him. To march down those steps and let him know exactly how she felt about him lying about emailing her to apologize. But, a treacherous hopeful part of herself whispered to her, she had to be sure. She had to have irrefutable proof that she wasn’t one of the victims to his rabid brother and he was just an ass.
She couldn’t get to her phone fast enough. She searched for all the emails the two had exchanged, finding the most recent to be his harsh email. She had another niggling feeling, however, and decided to check her spam mail.
Marinette has most definitely stopped breathing.
Right there, in bold letters sat a Wayne Enterprises email waiting to be opened and read. She couldn’t bring herself to click it open, ice flooding her veins, freezing her in her seat. She actually misread the situation. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to bash her head on the table and grovel for forgiveness from this very handsome man. She didn’t do any of this, however, managing some degree of composure and sat through the remainder of his presentation. She would bet her left leg it was the best presentation she would have ever heard but she couldn’t recall a single word of it from that point on; too busy digging her own grave and writing her own eulogy. She could never show her face around Gotham again. Her life was ruined.
The sounds of people packing up had her crawling herself out of her own head. She mechanically packed her things up, gazing pathetically at her blank notebook. She made her way down the steps, eyeing the gaggle of students surrounding Marinette’s biggest missed opportunity to date. She was just about to walk straight out the door, resigning herself to her fate when she made a hasty decision. She turned to the dwindling crowd and marched like a woman on a mission. She wormed her away to stand directly in Tim’s line of sight and she braced herself for possibly her dumbest idea yet. She listened to the conversation going on and as soon as it appeared she was not going to interrupt anyone, she shot her hand out and grabbed him by his suit. The act caught everyone’s attention but before she could chicken out, she turned to leave and pulled the businessman along with her, leaving stunned silence behind.
They didn’t get far out the door when he yanked her arm off him, stopping them in their tracks. He looked angry, confused but also very put out at her. Fair.
“Why’d you do that?”
“I— I don’t know.” His glare was intense. Marinette felt her face flush and her knees weaken. She wanted to make things right but it seemed she was only making things worse. She took a breath. Focus, she reminded herself. She just needed to address one problem at a time. “I mean, I do know why but I wasn’t supposed to do it like that. I just needed your attention.”
“Well now you have it. So what do you want?”
“I wanted to apologize. Not about dragging you out here. Yet. But for accidentally ignoring your apology email.” One of his eyebrows rose incredulously as she kept talking, but she ignored it and powered on. “It was, for some reason, in my spam mail and I didn’t see it. But if it’s any consolation, I would love it if you commissioned me for another suit. Or anything else really.”
“Pardon?” He didn’t believe her, or was at least confused by her, that much she could tell.
“You suit. I made it. Here, look.” She turned her phone screen, showing him their conversations in her emails. At his slightly more relaxed posture she continued speaking. “I’m glad you like the suit.”
“Huh.”
“Also I’m sorry for dragging you out here.” She had curled her shoulders into her ears, still holding her phone out like an idiot. His chuckle in response eased her nerves only slightly. He had a cute laugh. And he was cute too. Bad thoughts! Stop getting distracted!
“Okay, I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine.” The carefree smile he threw at her was disarming. “And I would love to talk more about working with you, Ms. Cheng.”
“Marinette, please, Mr. Wayne.” She could breathe easier now, no longer on the verge of catastrophizing. “If you want to get started as early as possible, I’m free for an early lunch right now.”
“Only if you call me Tim. And lunch sounds great actually. I know a great bistro off campus if you will let me escort you.” He really needed to stop smiling at her like that. Her heart couldn’t take it.
“Sounds wonderful. Lead the way.” He turned and offered her his arm. She was slow to move, still faintly caught in the emotional whiplash of the morning. Her gentle grip on his bicep was enough for her to feel the muscle definition under the suit. It pleasantly surprised her but not nearly as much as his next words.
“Perfect. It’s a date.”
What?
#maribat#timari#timinette#mgi server event#mgi trope tussle#college au#kinda#enemies to lovers#onesided enemies to prelovers actually#but it counts i think#oh well#mlb x dc#ml x dc#tumblr youre testing my patience lately pls#tumblr do me a solid#tumblr dont fucking try me#tumblr please stop hiding my posts#i beg#tumblr what do i have to do#no beta this is tussle
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evening shift - iii | b.b
pairing : bucky barnes x reader
summary : another evening shift leads to bucky coming to y/n’s rescue
word count : 1.1k
warnings : swearing, attempted assault (may be triggering given recent real world events to pls be cautious), teensy bit of violence
masterlist
Bucky woke up early on Monday, ripped from his sleep by a nightmare that often plagued his mind. He sat up like lightning, panting to catch his breath. He looked at the time: 5:47 am.
At least he managed to get some sleep, he supposed. Now all he needed to do was pass the time until 4 pm, when he would head to the bar where Y/N works to hand in his resume.
Making the most of the relatively empty streets, he decided to go for a run, at least until the sun rose.
-
Monday afternoons were always quiet. Not many people go out for drinks on Monday afternoons, so Y/N wasn't particularly busy when Bucky eventually strolled in around 4 and took a seat at the bar.
"Hey, you," Y/N smiled, seeming genuinely happy to see him. "How's that resume?"
Bucky handed her the sheet of paper that had his resume printed on it. "Ready."
Y/N's eyes scanned the paper. "Looking good," she said. "Want me to pass it on?"
Bucky nodded, bouncing his leg on the barstool.
He watched Y/N disappear through the staff-only door with his resume and anxiously awaited her return.
He thought about what would happen if he actually got this job. Y/N would be his coworker, perhaps they could even become friends. Or were they already friends? Maybe Y/N thought they were. Or she was just being nice and Bucky was reading into things too much.
She returned shortly after, looking rather put out. She noticed Bucky's concerned look. "Everything's fine with the resume," she reassured. "I've been asked to stay a bit later, which is a bit...shit."
"I'll stick around, if you want," Bucky replied. "Keep you company."
"I'd like that, although there are only so many drinks I can give you on the house," she joked.
Bucky took twenty dollars out of his pocket, sliding it across the bar towards her. "For the coffee and for your help."
Y/N shook her head. "Coffee was on the house and you don't have to pay me for being your friend, Bucky."
So they were friends. He hadn't really had a friend since Steve. Especially not a girl friend. And she had said his name... God, his name sounded so good when it came from her lips.
He tried not to think about Steve, or the way Y/N said his name. "Then I will have a cup of your finest coffee and you can keep the change."
She laughed but took the money. She took the amount for the coffee and put the rest of it in the tips jar. Bucky scowled.
"I'll get you that coffee."
-
The hours passed by and the sun had set. The bar was busier now, with more people having some drinks after work. Bucky had been sat talking with Y/N all afternoon and into the evening.
He learned her favourite colour and that she had an older brother. She survived the Blip but her brother didn't, so technically she was the older sibling now. But growing up, she had been the younger sibling.
Bucky had successfully avoided answering too many questions about himself. He made sure he didn't lie though, he hated the idea of lying to her.
At 7 pm, she had gone through the staff-only door and re-emerged with a jacket and a bag slung over her shoulder.
"I'm off," she announced to Bucky, heading around from behind the bar.
"Why not stay for a drink?" He suggested.
He would never have done it if he hadn't seen that man at the other end of the bar watching Y/N the whole time he's been there. Something about him wasn't right, Bucky thought. And with the number of drinks Y/N had made for him, he was very drunk too.
"I'd love to," Y/N said, causing butterflies in Bucky's stomach. "But I have to get home to feed my cat, he's probably wasting away by now."
"Oh," was all Bucky said.
"But if I could get your number, we could arrange drinks another time?" She proposed.
She wanted his number. She wanted to get drinks with him. More butterflies. Bucky fumbled in his pocket to pull out his phone and handed it to Y/N to put her number in.
"There," she said, handing Bucky his phone back. "Just send me a text and I'll have your number."
He sent a quick "Hi :)" text and they said goodbye. But he couldn't shake that uneasy feeling in his stomach, no matter how many butterflies replaced them.
-
Y/N was cold. She hadn't anticipated having to walk home in the dark and cold. Arms wrapped tightly around her body, she walked a different way home than she usually would, sticking to the main, well-lit streets.
"Hey, baby, where you going?" A voice called out from behind her.
Dread flooded her body but she kept walking, picking up her pace a little. She could hear the footsteps behind her getting closer and closer. A hand reached out to grab her wrist, pulling her to a halt.
"Where you off too, hm?" It was the man from the bar, she'd been serving him drinks all night. The smell of booze was radiating off him.
Y/N tried to pull herself free but the man had an iron grip on her poor wrist. She began to panic, her breathing quickening as she debated what to do.
She could run, but he would follow her. Then he would know where she lived. If she didn't run home, where else could she run? What if she ran into someone else with wicked intentions?
"Hey!" Another voice called out. Bucky. He stepped closer, into the light of the streetlamp. "Hey man, back off."
The man let go of Y/N's wrist and she backed away. "Why? Is she your girl?" He challenged Bucky. Bucky didn't answer. "Cos if she's not, then she's fair game."
The man's words enraged Bucky. He lashed out, landing a punch square on the man's jaw and knocking him to the ground.
Bucky stepped over the man's figure. "You okay, Y/N?" He asked, gently taking her wrist to inspect for injuries.
YN snatched her wrist back. "Were you following me?"
"I was following him," Bucky clarified, motioning to the unconscious man on the floor. "I saw him eyeing you up at the bar. That's why I asked you to stay. And then I watched him follow you as you left."
And here Y/N thought Bucky just wanted to have some drinks with her. "Oh," she said. "Thank you."
"Are you okay?" He asked again, ignoring her thanks.
She shook her head. He could tell she wasn't okay, her eyes looked bewildered and her shoulders went up and down rapidly as she breathed.
Bucky extended his arms. "May I?"
Y/N nodded, stepping closer to Bucky as he wrapped his arms around her shaking figure.
"You're okay now," he whispered to her softly. He could smell her perfume, the same floral scent as before. "Let me walk you home, hm?"
"Okay," she said, pulling away and wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
TAGLIST:
@felicityofbakerstreet
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes au#james bucky barnes#james barnes#sgt james barnes#james buchanan barnes#mcu#mcu imagine#marvel#marvel imagine#sebastian stan#sebastian stan imagine
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Happy birthday, Alexander
A Malec Oneshot 🔞
Having your birthday on a Sunday has its perks. You can sleep in, have a relaxed breakfast in bed, can cuddle with your partner for hours. Okay, you might have to interrupt it for all the birthday calls, but really, no one can drag you out of bed if you don't want to.
And Alec definitely doesn't.
The bed is empty beside him, but he can hear Magnus puttering about in the kitchen. He probably has bought Alec's favourite chocolate cake from the Parisian patisserie they had their first overseas date at. Or maybe he conjures up a French toast feast or Belgian waffles. Alec scents the air, but the bedroom is too far away from the kitchen to smell what Magnus might be up to.
It doesn't matter anyway. Alec is already in high spirits. This is their day, painstakingly shovelled out of their busy schedules. It's one of many things that Magnus has taught him. It's important to take time for the things you care about. And caring about their husband, both of them do.
There are footsteps and the sound of quietly clacking dishes coming through the open bedroom door, and it doesn't take long for Magnus to appear in it, a delicately filled breakfast tray in hand, red rose and all. He wears the maroon dressing gown that Alec loves so much on him and the warmest smile that still elicits tiny butterflies in Alec's stomach. This man is his, and Alec is the luckiest guy in the world.
"Good morning, Alexander."
Alec smiles back at him. "Good morning, love."
Magnus puts the tray on the bedside table and leans in for a languid kiss that makes Alec's blood rush south. By the Angels! Magnus is such a good kisser.
Alec pulls Magnus on top of him, and then they make out for long minutes, only shortly interrupted by a snap of Magnus' fingers to keep their coffees and oven-fresh pains au chocolat warm.
Alec's hands run over the smooth fabric of Magnus' clothes. He loves the feel of Magnus' muscles under his hands, the knowledge of how wonderful the skin itself would feel if he'd pull the gown away from his husband's perfect body.
Alec knows every millimetre of skin, every edge and curve of Magnus' body. He mapped it out a thousand times with his hands and lips. He loves his scent, especially in the morning when the remnants of his shampoo and shower gel have dissipated and Magnus only smells of himself.
Alec rolls Magnus on his back and kisses him fiercely. Magnus lets him, moans quietly into his mouth. It's a heated slide of lips and tongues, teeth joining now and then. It's perfect, familiar and still full of surprises. Kissing Magnus never gets dull. And judging by the way the warlock returns it with enthusiasm, Magnus would agree with his husband on this.
Alec pulls back after a while, catching his breath. He sends a questioning look down to chocolate coloured eyes. They perfected these silent conversations over the last two years, the wordless 'Can I?' hanging in the air between them.
Magnus smiles at him softly as he usually does, his lips red and slightly swollen. Alec gets rid of his boxers, opens the belt of Magnus' bathrobe and pulls his satin shorts down, just enough to settle his throbbing erection in the crease right above Magnus' hip bone. To his surprise, Magnus lets out a discontent sound. Alec furrows his brow in confusion.
"It's your birthday, Alexander."
Alec huffs a laugh. "Yes, and?"
"You can have me."
It takes Alec embarrassingly long until he understands. His cock gets the message immediately after, though, and a shiver works itself through Alec's body.
"You don't have to," he replies nonetheless when the spike of arousal subsides. It's nice that Magnus is willing to sleep with him from time to time, even though he doesn't derive any pleasure from it. At least not in the traditional sense of sexual satisfaction. But Alec would never expect this from him, much less over the fact that it's his birthday. He wants Magnus to be in the mood for this kind of intimacy.
Magnus cards his fingers through Alec's hair, just the way the shadowhunter loves it. "I want to," he simply states.
And it is that simple. Honesty, that's what they promised each other. No pretending to be fine, no important words postponed to later, no doing things out of a misguided sense of duty.
Alec dives in for another kiss. He'll never get enough of these lips, of this man, of holding his heart and Magnus his in return.
He brushes the fabric to the side and kisses a long trail from the spot behind Magnus' ear to the place where he should have a belly button. Alec grins and enjoys the goosebumps that he can conjure on Magnus' skin when he does things like this. His husband is so responsive, and Alec loves it. Loves him so much.
When Alec pulls down Magnus' shorts, his dick is lying there, not even semi-erect. Alec ignores it. He learnt that Magnus' arousal is unpredictable and says nothing about how much he loves him, of how beautiful Alec is in his eyes, of how much he likes to feel and taste him.
Alec's eyes roam over Magnus' caramel skin up to his beautiful cat eyes. They smile at each other for a long moment as if frozen in time. Alec could bathe in the glow of their love for all eternity.
Magnus breaks the moment with a snap of his fingers, and Alec chuckles in surprise when he feels his fingers slick with warm lube.
"Impatient, are we?" Alec smirks.
"For you? Always, darling." Magnus grins up at him and spreads his legs invitingly. Alec's eyes fix on the inviting hole. He gives his own cock a few strokes before he touches the rim, a heady feeling overwhelming him.
It's not that they never have sex. No, far from it. Alec enjoys Magnus' body, his hands and mouth ever so often. But this here? This is special. This is something they haven't done since their wedding anniversary.
Alec loves being inside Magnus. It's not that he loves it more than all the other sexual things they share, but it's different. Very good different. Nothing compares to the tightness of Magnus' ass, the way he clenches around him, the feeling of being so utterly connected that they become one.
It's stupid, Alec thinks, as if we weren't one at all times and especially in bed. But tell that to his cock that springs excitedly at the mere thought of burying himself in Magnus' narrow heat.
Alec pushes a finger slowly inside. It always fills him with wonder how easily Magnus lets him in. It's trust in its purest form, and it doesn't cease to amaze him, doesn't cease to flood his body with all-encompassing want. Magnus does this for him out of love because he wants to give him what Alec could live without but is happy that he doesn't have to. They always do this on Magnus' terms, and knowing that his husband wants it, too, makes the sex for Alec only better.
"I love you so damn much," Alec breathes, looking up in his husband's eyes, and Magnus clenches around him as he laughs.
"I love you too, Alexander." It's spoken with such joy and sincerity, it takes Alec's breath away. How is this not a fairy tale?
"I can take more," Magnus states, and Alec chuckles. He complies, feels Magnus stretching around his fingers.
Briefly, Alec wonders if he is the only gay man with a cis partner who has no clue where his lover's prostate is. He only knows that he will stimulate it by mistake when he adds a third finger. But Magnus takes it. Alec hates it when he makes him bolt up the bed, the touch too intense and arrow sharp, nothing like the pleasure Alec experiences when Magnus does the same to him.
"Sorry," he mumbles.
"It's quite alright, Alexander," Magnus breathes. "I think I'm ready."
Alec furrows his brow in concern, but Magnus is already moving. He cleans Alec's hand with a snap of his fingers and pushes him on his back. Alec can't help but think that he's one lucky bastard as he watches his husband getting ready to ride him. He loves the sight of Magnus hovering over him, lining himself up with his dick. He looks so good like this, all sexy muscles framed by maroon silk, a masterpiece of art.
But it's nothing compared to the feeling of Magnus sinking down on him. Alec closes his eyes for a moment, tries to keep in the lewd moan threatening to fall from his lips.
Magnus clicks his tongue in disapproval. "Let me hear you, Alexander. Your passion is my greatest reward."
And so, Alec lets it out, moans Magnus' name and praises him as he starts moving. The drag of Magnus' walls over his cock, the quiet moans falling from his husband's lips—Alec can't help but think that Magnus enjoys himself.
It's not exactly true, he knows that. But Alec learnt to relish it nonetheless. Magnus wants to make him feel good, and who is he to deny his beloved anything? Magnus is in charge, can control the intensity of what he feels. And Alec is in for the ride, can enjoy the pressure of Magnus' hand on his chest and the slide of his ass over his cock.
Magnus moves his hips exactly how Alec likes it, pulls himself up just to slam down again, a constant assault on Alec's nerve endings. It feels like ages and seconds, an eternal tide. Alec gets lost in it, lost in Magnus' loving ministrations.
Alec hums when the telltale sign of concentred heat pooling in his stomach announces his near climax. He doesn't warn Magnus, well-knowing he might stop and prolong their love-making. But this is enough, will always be more than enough for Alec. The fact that Magnus allows him to have him like this—glistening with a sheen of sweat, eyes closed in concentration, his body moving in ways Alec's blood-drained brain can't properly process but that he enjoys to the fullest—is the greatest gift of all, birthday or not.
But something must have given him away. Magnus surely knows how to read his body, or maybe his mind even. He opens his unglamoured eyes, looks at him with so much adoration and love, it pushes Alec only closer to the edge.
"Come for me, darling," Magnus huffs out, strain clear in his voice, as he keeps on slamming their bodies together with clear intent. And Alec does. His body spasms, his sight is replaced with darkness and fireworks. He moans Magnus' name as he fills him as if there were a way to get even closer than this.
When he opens his eyes afterwards, his brain still far from being back online again, they are already magically cleaned, and Magnus lies in Alec's boneless arms.
"Happy birthday, Alexander," he chuckles against his shoulder.
Happy birthday, indeed.
#alec lightwood#magnus bane#fluff and smut#birthday sex#asexual magnus bane#malec fandom#malec fic#malec fanfic#malec fanfiction
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serre-moi fort | j. changmin
🐈 pairing: bf!changmin x fem! reader
🐈 word count: 2.2k
🐈 genre: fluff, domestic!au
🐈 tw: none, maybe the overuse of nicknames (?)
🐈 synopsis: while changmin goes out for a run, you decide to do some self-care and unfold the hammock dusting on the side of your house.
🐈 a/n: part 4/14 of my french project!! with my baby boi changmin!! i am sorry if i still haven’t written your request or i take too long to finish it, but the inspo hasn’t been really present 🤕🥺 i’ll make sure to write more!!
╰☆☆☆☆╮
A yawn escaped from your mouth as you blocked the light out of your eyes with your elbow, feeling extra sleepy as your alarm clock hadn’t rung off yet. What a great mistake you did by accepting your boyfriend’s idea of starting to wake up early, you should have refused last night.
You groaned as the annoying sound of an alarm finally rang, blindly searching for your phone on the bedside table. Changmin stirred on his side of the bed, turning to the side in great search of your body. Once he found it, he let out a sigh and kept his eyes closed, warm mouth resting against your exposed shoulder. Your hand settled on his forearm wrapped around your middle and you pecked his cheekbone, closing your eyes as you enjoyed the quietness of the morning for a while.
Changmin sat up after a few minutes, head heavily following the rest of his body. He stared at you still lying on your side, his hand gently rubbing your knee and he offered you a gentle smile when you opened your eyes to look at him. You mimicked him as he stood up, yawning as his hand rubbed his abs while making his way towards the kitchen. You deeply sighed as the birds started chirping, helping you slowly and start the day tranquilly.
Once you stood up, you went and opened the windows, letting the pale light and the fresh morning air from outside invading your room. The sky was still gloomy as it had just stopped pouring, the light fog due to the rain lingering around your neighbourhood, progressively disappearing as it rose in the sky. You wrapped your cardigan around your shoulders and joined your boyfriend in the kitchen, a hand gently stroking the back of his head, playing with the spiky, shorter hair. Changmin smiled at your display of affection and turned around to kiss you on the cheek.
“Are you eating this before going for a run?” you asked as you observed him spreading butter and honey on two toasts, only to find him shaking his head with a smile.
“I was planning on bringing the toasts to my baby back in bed, but it seems like it’s too late,” he said, and your face fell, making your boyfriend giggle.
“Oh, I didn’t know, Changmin. We’re so rarely together, I didn’t want to miss an opportunity of being with you,” you said, and he giggled, circling his arm around your shoulders.
“It’s okay, Y/N. Let’s have breakfast together now that you are up,” he suggested and you nodded, kissing him on the lips as he handed you the plate he prepared for you.
Changmin sat across from you, a banana and a protein shake in front of him. He never liked eating a lot before going on a run, he hated working out feeling nauseous or having a heavy stomach, hence the super light breakfast. You, on the other hand, had worked out yesterday, and since you only did it every other day, it was your rest day today. Changmin only had the weekend to go for a run since his work was keeping him extremely busy. Living this kind of life wasn’t the best when it came to personal life, but he was passionate about his job, so it was natural for him to make sacrifices.
“I’m going, babe. I’ll be back in over an hour,” he said while standing up, winking at you as he placed everything in the dishwasher before disappearing back in your shared bedroom.
He appeared a few minutes later, all clad in black gym equipment with a rain jacket from his favourite football (soccer) team. He walked up to you, the plastic of his shoes squeaking on the tiled floor and kissed your forehead as you were drinking the rest of your orange juice.
“Have fun and be careful!” you said as he walked out the door, waving at you from the kitchen window as he walked past it.
Weekends weren't only meant for fitness activities, it also meant self-care for you. So, after brushing your teeth and changing into your home clothes, you decided to grab a book and go read outside. The temperature was quite chilly since it was still quite early, but the cold couldn’t reach your body as you were wrapped into Changmin’s long black hoodie. You walked across the living room and opened the sliding glass door, shutting it behind you as you put down your book on the wooden table.
Walking to the side of the house, you found the hammock you had decided to randomly buy while browsing the web, and it was one of the best purchases you did for your house after the pillow made for taking baths. You unfolded it and cosied it up a bit by adding some pillows and two extra blankets, comfortably lying in it after taking your book from the table.
You had forgotten how fascinating this book was, getting back into the story as soon as you read the last sentence of the previous chapter. Not even noticing your surroundings, the neighbour’s cat casually yet carefully walked across your small garden and meowed before disappearing under the fence, but you didn’t hear it. Your hand dangling outside the hammock, grabbing some petals of the flowers planted under you and playing with them between your fingers, carefully reading the story as you were close to finishing the book you had started a few weeks ago.
Slamming the book shut after reading the last sentence, you sighed and wiped the tear that threatened to fall from your eye and rested the book on the floor. Crossing your arms on your chest, you observed the light blue sky before sinking deeper into the hammock, the wind acting as a gentle caress as it blew on your face. Resting a foot on the floor, you gave a quick swing to the hammock before replacing your limb under the blankets, feeling it move side to side as you closed your eyes. The slow shift rocking you like a baby in their mother’s arms, and you fell back asleep right here, face tucked into your boyfriend’s hood over your head.
The neighbour’s cat came back a few minutes later and gently licked your hand dangling off the hammock, careful of not waking you up. It sat near the glass window, its whines stopping as you weren’t responding, too deep into Morpheus’ arms to come back to reality.
The three-coloured creature ran off as soon as the front door shut close, Changmin heavily breathing as he had just stopped his sports watch. Looking around the house, he wiped the sweat pearling off his forehead with his sleeve as he called your name, a smile forming on his lips as he saw you on the patio.
Just like you did an hour and a half ago, he slid the glass door open and closed it without making a noise, gently talking to the cat as it came to him, tail raising in the air while walking towards the sweaty man. Approaching you with the cat on his heels, he admired your sleepy face as your fist was resting against your cheek, pushing up the skin under your eye in a cute way. He brought the blanket further up to your chin and delicately kissed your forehead, the action making you shift.
“I’m home, sweetheart. I’m gonna take a shower and I’m yours, okay?” he whispered, and you lightly shifted in your sleep, repositioning yourself in the hammock.
Changmin gently pushed it to make it rock slowly, earning a muffled groan of happiness from your mouth. He beamed at your behaviour and told the cat to stay outside as it tried to come in with him, the animal letting out a frustrated noise but sat in the grass anyway.
Once your boyfriend reappeared from his shower, you were still comfortably tucked inside your new bed. With the towel around his shoulders, he was quick to toss it in the laundry bin and pull out the hairdryer. The muffled sound didn’t even make you move, the cat staring at your boyfriend as he quickly dried his hair in the living room. It had come closer just the time he went back to the bathroom to put the dryer away, stifling a laugh as the cat’s position. It was calmly sat on the patio, its wide, green eyes staring up at you as you slept.
Changmin chuckled at the innocence of the scene in front of him, the kitty suddenly looking away from you as he opened the window door. It only moved when he neared you, pacing under the fence like there was no tomorrow. He shook his head at the cat’s silliness and threw a glance at your sleeping figure, trying to think of a way to join you without waking you up.
You felt a presence near you as an arm delicately lifted your shoulders and upper back, careful movements moving around you. Lazily opening an eye, you noticed your boyfriend all fresh out of the shower, who was trying to get into the hammock without waking you up. Changmin miserably failed as you sat and you stood up despite his protests for you to stay in the hammock, lazily waiting for him to sit comfortably. You smiled when he reached out his arms for you to come and lay on top of him, his leg falling off the hammock as you comfortably laid back, your warmth kept and increased by your boyfriend’s body and hot shower.
“Hold me tight, please,” you whispered as you felt him giggle under you, arms securely wrapped around your figure. Changmin made sure that you were well hidden under the blanket before starting to balance the hammock again, closing your eyes as the comfort lulled you back to sleep.
“I’m right here, love. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered against the crown of your head before kissing it, weakly smiling as his calm heartbeat helped you fall back asleep.
Changmin delicately plucked out a flower under the hammock and played with it for a while before pushing your hair away from your ear and slid it on top of it. Smiling at the pretty view of you sleeping with a flower on your head, he held you closer to him, as if it were possible. He stifled a yawn as his workout tired him out, his chin resting against your head as it was his turn to doze off.
__
You softly sighed and opened your eyes, a chest slowly rising and falling under your ear. You recognised your boyfriend’s fragrance as you hoisted yourself higher in his hold, delicately kissing the side of his neck. It was later in the day, you had no idea how long you had been sleeping for, but you were rid of any tiredness and felt at peace.
Changmin seemed to be quietly sleeping, his arm protectively wrapped around you as the other hung off the hammock. Something fell on his stomach from your head as you shifted, only to discover a flower with a smile. You stared at your boyfriend for a while and couldn’t stop smiling, but this delicate, romantic moment got ruined by the not-so-sophisticated grumbling noises coming from your stomach.
Trying to extricate yourself from the hammock without waking your boyfriend up, you felt his hand catching your wrist, his eyes slowly opening with a soft smile drawn on his face.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice deeper than it normally was.
“I’m going to make us something to eat,” you spoke, and he sat up, motioning you to come closer. You obeyed and he reached out for something stuck in your hair, only to find a yellow petal of the flower he had placed in your hair while you were napping. You smiled at the sweet gesture and he got up as well, kissing your temple as he slightly limped and whined.
“Argh, I forgot to stretch,” he muttered as he made his way to the kitchen, wincing then hissing at his sore leg muscles. Shifting his weight on his hands resting against the kitchen counter, you compassionately rubbed his back as you got out a pan from a drawer.
“I was too excited to come to cuddle with you, you seemed so peaceful that I completely forgot to stretch,” he said while wrapping his arms around your waist, earning a smile from you.
He peppered your cheek with kisses every time you moved around the kitchen, making a healthy brunch for the two of you. Once you were almost done, he let go of your waist to set the table, grabbing your shoulders and guided you to sit down to take the reins. Then, Changmin placed everything in the plates and served one to you, walking to his seat with his own.
You ate in silence, his hand linked with yours, the sun shining brighter than before as you finished eating. Changmin kindly rubbed your shoulder, whispering to go back outside while he cleaned and washed everything. You played with the cat for a while, giggling as you manage to place the flower on top of his head, the creature weirdly moving its head to get the thing off him.
Changmin laughed as he joined you on the patio, drawing his chair closer to yours and you kissed his cheek as he sat down.
Smiling to each other, you came nearer and delicately pressed your lips against his, feeling him grin in the kiss as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder blades. Once you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered the words you loved coming out of his mouth.
“I love you."
#oui oui baguette project#changmin#ji changmin#the boyz changmin#the boyz ji changmin#changmin imagines#changmin scenarios#ji changmin scenarios#ji changmin imagines#the boyz changmin imagines#the boyz changmin scenarios#the boyz#the boyz imagines#the boyz scenarios#the boyz fluff#the boyz fluff imagines#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#tbz#the boyz x reader#changmin x reader#the boyz au#tbz imagines#tbz changmin#tbz q#tbz scenarios#tbz fluff#tbz ji changmin#tbz soft hours
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johnny — part of the my bloody valentine collection.
prompt. the closer you are to your soulmate, the warmer you feel. the farther you are, the colder.
synopsis. johnny had always preferred you in winter clothes, anyway. you can say it makes his job a lot easier.
warnings. tread cautiously. smut, swearing, mentions of drugs, mentions of smoking, mentions of stalking, violence, implied kidnapping near the end, johnny's a lil delusional, implied slutshaming
disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.
inspired by red.
in a world where finding one’s soulmate is a big hot and cold game, having sex for the heck of it proves to be a challenge. who’d be willing to take off their clothes when you literally feel negative degrees because your soulmate lives on the other side of the world?
but it’s weird, really. some people don’t have their soulmates living in another country. some people lucked out and have their soulmate living just across the street, or next to their house, and probably didn’t need all those winter clothes that other people wear.
johnny had eventually developed an unspoken rule to only get with the ones who are bundled up in their ‘lil jackets and parkas, running the other way from people who show more skin. he isn’t a masochist, why’d he want to spend time with someone who’s close to meeting their soulmate?
it hadn’t been two years when johnny met you in the brick alleyway of a local bar near the university, in the shortest, skimpiest outfit he’s ever seen. he tried to stop himself, oh, he truly did, but your cat-like grace and alluring eyes threw him off his game completely. one bottle of cheap beer led to another, exchanging whispers led to kissing, and kissing led to… well, in your mattress.
sure, the springs digging against his back as you rode him like a fucking horse hurt but it has a charm to it. with the pain and pleasure mixing into something so blinding that it was the best sex he’s had for years.
it was only after he'd cummed for the 5th time with you that night and had called it a day, did he realize that you haven’t met your soulmate nor were you feeling any closer to meeting ‘the one’ despite not wearing a jacket in the least.
you don’t know the relief that surged through johnny’s veins when you said…
“what? soulmate? i haven’t met them yet. wait a minute—you thought because of what i’m wearing, my soulmate’s close?” johnny felt a little stupid as you laughed, tugging the bedsheets higher up against your chest. “people i fucked always ask me that but nah, nothing can stop me from wanting to wear something that makes me feel confident.”
there’s something about you that johnny suh cannot pinpoint. it was that annoying feeling of having the words at the tip of your tongue yet being unable to say them. maybe it was the way you talked? the way you acted? or just the charisma you seem to exude so effortlessly? johnny would rather die than admit to anyone that you got him wrapped around your pretty little nimble fingers with just the bat of an eyelash.
he felt like utter shit for literally walking out on you as abruptly as he did (screw drunk taeyong for getting into bar fights again) but at least you guys exchanged numbers and talked about all that needed to be talked about.
when johnny went out that night to try out local bars outside the uni, he never thought he'd be coming back home, sober and satiated, with a new booty call.
the arrangement went on a few more times. and by few, johnny meant a hefty few, considering you saw each other more than his ten fingers can count and had always alternated between his place and yours. although due to taeyong being a constant nuisance (“i’m not just going to fucking move my gaming nights just so you can get your dick bounced, suh!”) he was always at your place, instead.
not that either of you minded. johnny had to sneak in and out of the university because you lived off the campus grounds but it’s well worth it. anyone will do anything for a taste of heaven, right?
not that you were an angel by any means but johnny discovers your moans turn whinier when he addresses you as such. it makes his cock throb with want, hearing you lose yourself underneath or on top of him as he used you to get off.
“isn’t that right, angel? come on tell me how much you love me fucking you. this is what you live for isn’t it?” johnny hisses, leaning forward, his chest touching your back as he railed you from behind.
you were way too lost in the pleasure to even answer him properly. you just felt so full, the slight curve of his cock aiding him to hit all the right places whenever he ruts his hips forward. he doesn’t even need to use his hands on you and johnny revels at how amazingly responsive you are.
all he can hear is you and boy was it enough to get him off. from your moans, to the clapping, to the lewd squelching sounds, to the springs of the mattress poking your front. everything is leading up to that moment you’re both chasing, that searing pleasure of climaxing.
when he feels you getting closer, he flips you onto your back, wanting to see your face twisted in sheer ecstasy when he makes you cum.
“johnny!” you scream when he hauls your legs over his shoulder, hitting impossibly deeper, grazing the walls of your cervix. “shit, shit, shit—i’m going to—”
he halts all movements.
the answering whine he got from you made him quickly wrap a hand around your throat, the other gripping your hips so hard you just know it’ll leave a nasty bruise the next morning. “you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart. go on—you live for my cock, don’t you?”
“johnny, come on—ah!” he cuts you off with a pointed look, the hard thrust rendering you speechless as he wraps his hand just a wee bit tighter around your neck.
“what did i say about whiny angels, hmm?” he leans down to your ear, puffing his hot breath with every word he spoke and drawing more beads of sweat on the side of your face. “go on, love, don’t be shy. i know you love my cock but i don’t tolerate you ignoring my questions.”
well, you’re fucked—figuratively—as you fail to remember whatever question he asked you only seconds ago.
you squeeze your eyes shut when he starts moving in the slowest pace possible, teasing you and making you work for it. as if your dilemma is written clear on your face, johnny coos, tilting his head. “what… is my angel having trouble?”
the surprised moan you let out when he gives another hard thrust sends shivers down his spine. he revels at your scrunched up face, both from the pleasure and wracking your brain frantically for whatever johnny wants because you sure as hell know that he’ll keep this pace up just to torture you.
“johnny,” you plead, nuzzling your face by his forearm propped beside your head. but one look at his face and you know he won’t drop it no matter how much you plead and beg for you to finish. “i didn’t—didn’t hear what you asked—”
“that’s just too bad, now, is it?” you squirm underneath him with one particular hard thrust, your head nearly hitting the wall behind the mattress.
“please… re—repeat the question? i promise i’ll do anything! you know i will! i’m—i’m your angel, right? i’ll do anything! just—”
“fuck the question,” he gasps, feeling you clenching around him as he gives in to the pleasure he wants to feel. screw pretenses. “that’s good enough.”
he started yet again his brutal pace, stopping only after you finished so he could pull out, ropes of his essence painting your naked stomach.
johnny doesn’t immediately slump next to you, reaching forward to the box of tissues lying on the floor next to the mattress so he can clean you up. he knows your heart flutters when he takes care of you after, that’s why he does it always, without fail. he can feel your hammering heart as he wiped away all of his sticky cum off your torso.
both of you are shivering underneath the thin blanket. with the nature of the soulmate rules plus the busted heater in your apartment, being naked as the day you were born is quite a bad idea unless you want to suffer from hypothermia.
“want a cig?”
johnny chuckles, putting an arm up to support his head. “you always ask me that and i’ll always say the same thing. i—”
“don’t smoke.” you finish his sentence, your giggle rings akin to that of a little girl as you click the lighter, angling your head so the cigarette butt will reach the small flame.
“those things’ll kill you,” johnny mumbles, eyeing a discolored portion of the ceiling.
you snort, tempted to blow the smoke directly to his face but you know what happened before—angry sex with johnny suh borders more on pain than pleasure… but masochists are made to love the pain, aren’t they?
johnny bolts upright in a coughing fit, the springs of the mattress groaning in agony with the sudden movement. only after he’s composed himself again after that small blast of smoke you blew towards him did he start glaring at you. yet his annoyance dissipates the moment he sees the eagerness and mischief swirling in your eyes.
“you’re gonna fucking pay for that.”
johnny doesn’t like thinking that he’s growing attached. what the heck is taeyong even saying? feelings make everything messy and the last thing johnny wants to do is mess up whatever the fuck you guys have—not friends, not lovers, just smack dab in the middle.
so why is he so affected by the sudden infrequency of your texts? you used to reply within seconds after johnny asks if he can come over, now it takes you hours and more often than not johnny has already taken care of the problem himself by the time you replied.
and your texting style has gradually started to change, as well. gone are the days you’d humor him when he gives poorly disguised sexual innuendos for the fun of it. when johnny does end up coming over, you’re still as noisy and whiny as a bitch in heat but… there’s something off with everything.
with you.
johnny’s just concerned. can he not feel that way? concern doesn’t automatically equal to any romantic feelings whatsoever, right?
“are you okay?” he asks, never the type to beat around the bush with someone. he tries to force out a chuckle, afraid whatever he said sounded a tad too serious. “i mean, i don’t know. is there something wrong—”
“i met him.”
“who?”
one look in your eyes and johnny knew you were pertaining to your soulmate.
he dashes over to you in a heartbeat, running his hands down your arms but before he can even reach your hands, you’ve hissed and pushed him away. “you’re hands are freezing, johnny!”
it was only a moment, seconds of touching you yet he can feel you weren’t as cold as you used to and it only meant one thing.
johnny’s smart enough to know he wasn’t your soulmate because if it was, you would’ve gotten warmer from the day you two met—but no, you were as cold as him, and had excused fucking each other as a means of sharing body heat. but even if that was the case, you both have made the agreement to still see or fuck around each other even after meeting your own respective soulmates.
jesus christ, you were the one who brought the issue up! and now… now what’s this bullshit he’s hearing from you?
“i can’t—can’t do this anymore, john,” you say firmly as you stand across the room, far away from him. hugging yourself as if you were the one breaking and not johnny. “we’d be hurting other people—”
“but you said—”
“i know what i said,” you snap, piercing eyes heatedly finding his. “i was stupid back then, i thought i can keep this up but—the guilt, johnny. you don’t know how guilty i fucking feel!”
“guilty?” he asks incredulously, taken aback of the implications of that one word.
you being guilty meant you’ve already met and have probably spent a reasonable amount of time with your soulmate (so that’s what you’ve been doing for the duration of you not talking to him). you being guilty meant you’re not exactly the proudest with whatever relationship you have with johnny and had probably kept your little midnight rendezvous with him a secret to your soulmate. you being guilty meant the sex you had only an hour ago was meant to be a goodbye of sorts, if the apologetic look you’re shooting him is anything to go by.
“look,” he’s never heard you sound so defeated before. “it was great, okay? the time i had with you, sex and aftercare and pillowtalk—all that shit. it was great but we both know it’s going to end eventua—”
“is the sex that good?”
“excuse me?”
“oh, i see,” johnny says condescendingly, a tone he’s never used when talking to you before but you’re leaving him with no choice. “he’s bigger, is that it? that has to be it. i wouldn’t put it past you, anyway—”
the slap you gave him only served to make his cock twitch under his sweatpants.
“leave.”
staring isn’t a crime. what can a pair of eyes do? it may be sharp like a knife and heavy like a gun in one’s hands but other than that can it physically do any harm? the answer’s simple—no, it fucking can’t. this is why johnny, for the life of him, can’t fathom as to why and what taeyong is so pressed about. johnny never thought him as a nagger, but his friend has transformed into an overgrown bat hovering behind his shoulders as if he’s some kid in need of monitoring.
“you call her a slut and now you’re being a stalker. wow, john, how utterly irresistible you’ve become.” taeyong looks so unfazed by johnny’s sharp eyes that the taller male’s fingers twitched in annoyance.
“i’m not stalking her!” he hisses under his breath, elbowing taeyong’s ribs only to curse when his bone hits the plethora of enamel pins stuck on his friend’s leather jacket. “and i didn’t call her a slut, either. get your facts straight.”
“but you implied it didn’t you?”
before johnny can even growl out a response, taeyong has quickly slipped into the bodies dancing in the middle of the bar.
so what if you were here? so what if this is the same bar you guys met? johnny’s not here for you. fuck, no. he’s here because this bar is closest to the uni and he isn’t in the mood to walk farther than a few blocks.
but no matter how much he claims otherwise, actions have always rang louder than words and johnny knows he’s creating a fool out of himself every time his eyes stray a little too far left and onto your figure, sitting next to a guy whose arm is wrapped around your waist like a vice.
but that’s not the interesting part—johnny wonders why your soulmate has another girl pressed up on his left.
oh, that’s your soulmate alright. judging by how you’d fan yourself fruitlessly with your hands, judging by how you’d cradle the glass filled with cheap beer and ice in hopes of the cold remedying your dried up palms.
but what sold you out? it’s how your eyes met his from way across the room. he knows you enough to see the apprehension and shock in your face only to quickly school it into indifference. the moment you glanced between him and that shitty soulmate of yours, he knows you’ll come crawling back into his arms—it’d only be a matter of time.
and not even hours later johnny’s phone rang and he stared down at your caller id with a sense of pride and sick entertainment rushing through his veins.
he knew he won, he just knew he did.
“and what does the angel need in such an hour?”
funny how you kicked him out of your apartment and now you’re ringing up his cell on the exact time you used to meet each other when you fucked around.
you’ve always been someone he can’t read, someone he can’t understand. may it be your logic, or your actions, or the words you say but it was all part of the appeal. a mystery johnny can’t help but want to unfold. when you called, the last thing he had ever expected was to hear you half-crying and half-moaning out his name like a mantra. he hears the sharp slick sounds and your shaky breath and knows exactly what you’ve been up to.
johnny isn’t a cruel person. it’d be mean of him to not give in when you had asked him so nicely.
“i’ll be there in five, angel.”
you wind back to each other for numerous times even after that night. you yourself always in the same predicament of being high as a fucking cloud, and johnny constantly getting flashbacks of the first few weeks he had with you.
but the way you treated each other has long passed the blurry lines of unspoken boundaries. you just felt so warm lying between his arms that he can’t help but tuck you in tighter, running fingers through your hair as you slept like a baby next to him and not on your soulmate’s bed.
johnny thought he’d won after you came back to him. how foolish of him to think that winning had something to do with this when it had everything to do with the small sparks of desire eating away at his insides—the desire to have you all for himself.
johnny scowls when you ask him to be quiet while in the middle of sex just because your soulmate called. johnny scowls when you refuse to meet up with him because you already have “plans” with your soulmate. johnny scowls when he smells a faint cologne that doesn’t belong to him on the whole of your apartment.
you yawn, subconsciously trying to shrug off johnny’s arms from your body in your sleep as you turned your back on him.
but want to know what johnny hates the most? what leaves a taste so bitter in his tongue that his whole day becomes a whole fucking mess? you trying to push him away… only to throw yourself back right into his arms.
how confusing can you be? how much more of the awful migraines will you let johnny endure? you’re driving him up the wall, pushing him to the edges of his sanity and the frustration only serves to add fuel to the fire.
what was so great about your soulmate that you can’t leave the bastard for good? johnny’s not stupid, he’s seen hickies countless of times to know that some purple marks on your skin are more than that—those weren’t hickies, they’re bruises. and god knows how much johnny hurts inside when you flinch away from him when all he wanted to do was pick away a fallen eyelash on your cheek.
he needed to save you, to snatch you away from the horrors of tartarus to worship you like a goddess again. and when he mulled everything over and over and over in his head, he only came up with one thing.
johnny perks up when he feels the phone vibrating on his lap, your caller id flashing in the dark room as he gamed on his pc. he eyes the phone in the corner of his eyes, contemplating the choices he will make. it’s not that he doesn’t know it’s wrong, but he needs you to wake the fuck up and you were taking too little too long for his taste.
his ringtone is deafening in the quiet room, he watches it vibrate against the table for a few more seconds until it stops. you have one missed phone call/, it says on his notifications.
the screen turns black.
he makes his move.
“what took you so long?” you whine, eyes red and seeing everything in a kaleidoscope as you stumble towards the door in a haste to get to johnny. you hear him strut through the door, shutting it close before hearing the soft pads of his shoes hitting the floor when he toes them off.
“i had to run errands, angel.”
with your hazy mind, you don’t detect the scratchiness of his voice. it’s as if he screamed his heart out until his own voice started to feel like knives against his throat every time he spoke. you were too high, too stoned, that you thought he sounded like melted chocolate, the drugs fucking up your whole system.
you giggle, folding in on yourself as you slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall with your knees tucked under your chin. “what kind of errands?”
“want me to show you?”
you were giggling when you signed your death wish. “yes, please!”
when he leans down, you didn’t smell the metallic scent that seemed to cling onto his clothes, didn’t see the splotches of red that ruined his favorite white shirt, didn’t taste his inhumanity when he leaned down to capture your lips into a heated kiss.
everything is under a thick layer of guise when you look down high up from cloud nine. but if only your feet had been anchored to the ground, maybe you would’ve seen everything as it was—would’ve seen the bat as it comes swinging down the back of your head after he’d pulled away. not enough to kill, just enough to knock you out. the clock starts from there.
johnny needed to be efficient, quick on his feet, as he incapacitated you with enough cable ties and darted around your apartment to shove everything in his duffel bag.
he mumbles to himself as he slots you inside the modest clothes he bought—he’s seen your closet enough to know that there wasn’t enough clothes that can keep you warm, so instead, he made you wear his own.
“this isn’t my fault,” johnny says under his breath as if trying to convince himself. “she forced my hand. forced me to do it. this is her fault.”
with all your big talk of able to withstand the coldness from when you had yet to meet your soulmate, he knew you won’t be able to handle the freezing heights brought by the temperature now that he left your soulmate to rot in a ditch.
this isn’t my fault. this isn’t my fault. this isn’t my fault.
#q'd#nct imagines#nct scenarios#yandere kpop#yandere nct#yandere johnny#yandere nct 127#johnny suh smut
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Counting Down The Days
The real kicker here is that I don't even like Christmas and I don't know at all why I thought of this...
Fluff, not really sad
No Pairings
Spencer has never liked Christmas.
As a child, December rolled in and cast over the city an impossible task. His thin wrist grabbed as he tucked pudding into his sweater and his ears tugged at when he bolted for the door, knowing getting caught one more time would mean child protective services would come back. And each time he picked his mother up off the floor, every time he tucked himself in the coat closet to try and hide from her wailing and shouting, he knew they would see through the veil. His mother wouldn’t survive having him taken away. No one else can get her to take her medication. No one else could read her books in their original forms. German and Arabic and Spanish. And what was the point in reading Don Quixote except to do so in the original Spanish?
But not getting caught shoplifting in December, when all of the staff of every store was watching for just that, is impossible. December met icy cold fingers dragging through his stomach and lying to his mother that he had eaten something while he made her ramen. He can go one more day but she can’t take her meds on an empty stomach.
As an adult, these things have changed drastically. Christmas is great. He really can’t complain. He loves dressing up for Dave’s fancy dinner and turning into a bragging point. The feeling of Dave’s heavy arm around his shoulders, showing him off to his friends. Finally being able to understand what it must feel like to have a parent bragging about you to other adults, even if at a certain point they’re just trying to show up to their friends. That doesn’t change the flush in his cheeks or how nice he feels smiling and stuttering around an explanation of his PhDs. Stomach twisted up and cheeks hurting when Dave finally leans in and relieves the guests with a “see? Kids so damn smart I don’t even understand what he got a degree in!”
He misses Morgan and Hotch.
They’ll come around for Christmas, he knows.
Hank is getting so big and he’s carrying on the tradition of all of Spencer’s other nephews and calling him “weed” but there’s nothing like that big baby smile when he comes in through the door. Tottling steps and an armful of baby. It just makes him want his own kids but for now, he’s content with his nephews.
Jack calls him a lot. He got the ability to do math from somewhere but certainly not from his parents -- Haley was an English major and Hotch uses a calculator for basic math. So Reid is generally the only person that he knows who can talk math. Christmas will bring Henry and Jack home from college. There’s speak of a boyfriend but Emily knows only minimally about this from what she’s heard from Hotch and what Jack has told Hotch is also minimal at best. Henry is… JJ gets a lot of radio silence from him but Hotch is quick to assure her that is just typical. Jack did the same thing but now he’s a senior in college and Hotch is lucky if he goes three consecutive hours without some sort of text or call.
“Who is my doctor at home?”
“Do you think Uncle Derek can change my oil? Wait, can I go that long without checking it?”
“What year was Aunt Jessica born? Don’t tell her I asked you that.”
“How old are you again? 53? 60?”
Spencer is just excited to have everyone under one roof.
Hotch and Emily grew up under the kind of parties that Dave throws for Christmas. Tokens to be shown off by their parents and ignored under every other circumstance. Both having been shipped off at least once during their childhoods when they no longer fit a certain look. Emily was no longer young enough to attract her mother’s friends, breast a little too formed, and acne that could not be tamed. Hotch with shadows of bruises that would not heal. Dead eyes that no longer raised from the floor.
Dave’s parties bring out the worst in them. Emily is a very bad influence on Hotch and together they have considerable tolerance for alcohol, they can do some damage. But they’re not loud. Spencer loves to watch the two of them, the way they ease into the night. Hotch warm now, his edges softened to pleased little smiles and thoughtful hums. Emily is chatty, leans into touch, and stretches out like a cat bathing in the sun. The night ends with their soft arguing. Spencer could butt in at any time to the subjects that they talk about but he finds himself far more content to sit and watch. Emily’s toes tucked under Hotch’s thigh and his head turned on the sofa, lazily listening to her speak.
They always approach every subject as if it’s the simplest thing. Let it be Marx, spending the hours in front of Dave’s parlor fire speaking in hushed tones about surplus-value and what makes a commodity. About the ins and outs of Cormac Mccarthy, Hotch loves The Sunset Limited and Emily does not. Whitney Houston and how poor Hotch’s Spanish is and if that’s his fault or hers.
Garcia loves the parties even if it does create a little cognitive dissonance for her. Her parents would hate this but she feels pretty in her gown and no one lets her forget it. She keeps track of the kisses placed on her cheeks. Derek smelling of something woodsy as he leans in with a wink, “you’re very beautiful this even, mama.” And Savannah smells warm and inviting and she gives the very best hugs. “Green,” she whispers, “is very much your color.” How Hotch hums along to songs and always gives in to her request for one dance, his smile growing wild as she steps on his toes.
And Spencer loves that she always asks him to match her. So he’ll proudly come in with his matching bowtie or pocket square. Lending her his elbow as they step in, stepping just out of the way that the right people come to greet him and no one else. Morgan is warm and tight, always squeezing just a little too hard. JJ fussing with his hair.
But it’s only September.
He’ll have to pass through Halloween. Jack and Henry are too old these days to run through the bullpen dressed as whatever fictive hero they have grown obsessed with this fall. Coming up to his desk knowing he’s hidden the largest bowl of candy, that he’ll sneak into their pockets whole-sized candy bars to eat as they trick or treat. At best he might get some pre-game pictures from them both, neither having grown out of their love for Halloween. Jack is still very into dressing up but Henry will still throw something together.
There will be Thanksgiving, a holiday choppily shared between them all. Just showing up at Dave’s randomly or Morgan’s depending on who wins that argument this year. He’ll be lucky to see them all under the same roof. If it’s at Dave’s then he’s guaranteed warm and cozy Hotch and Emily. Both bothering Dave in the kitchen, their lost childhoods always burning the brightest around one another, and exasperating Dave. Maybe Garcia will win her favorite game and Dave will teach her to cook whatever he’s decided they’ll have this year. If it’s at Derek’s then at least he’ll get to see Hank. JJ and Savannah will be there, they’re pretty good friends. Garcia will certainly be cooking something and Derek will be manning the grill.
But it’s months out until December.
And all Spencer wants is unabashed affection.
Dave’s arm around his shoulder and his high sung praises.
Emily snagging him up to dance to “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” and kissing his cheek for the trouble.
To see Matt and Luke interact with the team. Dave’s attention turning to point out his other boys, “knuckleheads but they mean well”. How Tara will take up the empty space left on the couch and butt into Hotch and Emily’s argument, turning warm and comforting like the other two. And Spencer can’t wait to see how similar the three of them are-- you just have to see through the layers.
Until it’s nearly two in the morning.
Jack and Henry are missing, Luke thinks he might have seen them on the back porch.
Emily is sleeping, head in Tara’s lap and feet in Hotch’s. The other two blinking slowly into the fire, glasses of wine warm in their hands and dangerously close to falling.
Matt is sitting on the floor, children spread out around him.
There’s the buzz of conversation still coming from the kitchen. Garcia, JJ, Savannah, and Kristy giggling over wine and gossip they’re certainly not supposed to know.
Spencer looks up at the calendar sitting above his desk and crosses off the day.
He always hated December. He never got to appreciate Christmas. They represented everything he didn’t have, all the things he thought he could never have. But as mid-September leaves a crisp edge to the air, he finds himself counting down the days tell what used to be a measure of his insignificance.
Now it’s the only day that seems to matter. The only day he feels like he matters. Surrounded by the warmth of familiarity. By love.
He misses his family.
#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid#emily prentiss#penelope garcia#savannah morgan#derek morgan#aaron hotchner#jack hotchner#david rossi
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Hating Him - Bakugou Katsuki (1)
bakugo x (black) fem reader
( still can read if you’re not)
sorry if it bothers you, i just felt that my black readers weren’t feeling black as they were reading y/n stories cause i for sure wasn’t.
Warning: none
Summary: Bakugo and you have hated each other ever since you met, being on the same track team and having the same friend group didn’t make things any better. you 2 have to act like you like each other for the benefit of the friend group until one day you and him are forced to have movie night with the others and you both have had enough of each other’s shit.
in this chapter: you get invited to the movie night and bump into bakugo
The morning smell of outside filled your lungs as you stepped out your house. It was exactly 5:30 in the morning. The streets were not busy and there was barely any noise, just faint sounds of dogs barking and truck drivers in a distance. It was the perfect time to go for your daily run. The chilly air made you happy, it gave you more of a challenge. you zipped your nike training jacket up. It fit you tight, tugging at every curve of yours. The sky was a foggy blue, a few clouds started coming in, along with the sum.
You walked down the steps of your house, stretching your legs when you got to the sidewalk. You looked ahead and yawned as you walked onto the street. Your neighborhood was fairly nice to say the least. Everybody minded their business, especially since your house had been secluded. After your grandmother died, she left one of her houses she owned to you, making it easy for you since you dreaded the idea of having to share a dorm with someone, let alone having to get an apartment.
you placed your airpods in your ears and played Apparently by J.Cole. J.Cole had been your favorite rapper since you were 12 years old, you missed the days where your 12 year old self would dance around your room to his music, now you’re grown and responsibilities are becoming more than just making sure your chores were done. You stretched one last time before taking off.
...
Once you were done, sweat dripped from your face. your breathing was heavy and the cold water bottle in your hand had been long awaited. The sun was now out. The birds chirping got louder and the old lady from across the street was sitting in her chair with her small cat in her lap, you quenched your thirst, swallowing every last drop of water. “Good morning Y/n” She chirped. You wiped your mouth with your wrist smiling, turning towards her, “Goodmorning Ms. Rodriguez.” you reply as you waved.
You finally go back inside your house, feeling at ease. you take off your black vapor max at the door and go to your kitchen, grabbing a nutrigrain bar, you ate it before going upstairs to get ready for your classes. you took your curly hair out of its messy bun. the roots of your hair were finally breathing and it felt good. you scratched your scalp in satisfaction. you looked in the mirror, loving your features and your brown/caramel skin. you never felt the need to put yourself in the 3 categories because to you there was no need to, everybody in the community was black so why separate it into groups.
you placed the shea butter your mother made for you on your face. you took off your semi-sweaty clothes throwing them into your dirty clothes hamper and looked at yourself in the mirror. your body was perfect to most but you didn’t see what everyone saw. your thighs were too thick for your liking, especially since you did track. your breast were too big to you, they sometimes got in the way while working out. you had a 4 pack from the working out, everybody told you that you had an hour glass body but you hated it. if this what a hour glass body was, you hated it.
you took off your panties, replacing your old ones with Tommy Hilfiger ones. You grabbed a pair of black nike sweatpants that fit your thighs perfectly. You took off your bra, letting your breast breath and put on another sports bra, putting on a white t-shirt fresh out the pack. you ran chap stuck along your plump lips, they were more than plump actually if you like them so it didn’t matter. you picked out the roots of your hair leaving it’s on it’s curly state. you had dyed your hair a ginger color, which made you look like sza a little. your fro was like hers too, very big and curly.
You wrapped your apple watch around your wrist and put on some whit nike socks, along with your white air force ones. Your phone started dinging and it was the gc, you had been in with your friend group.
Mina :) > goodmorning whores. Time for class before you become drop outs.
Denki ⚡️> good morning Mina ;)
Midoriya🥬> Goodmorning everybody, i have a big test in Mr. Aizawa’s today so i have to get to studying, talk to you guys later.
Kirishima> Mornin. It’s beautiful out today, isn’t it and i’m not a whore mina.
You> yea, kirishima i’m pretty sure you got caught with cami in the janitors closet.
Iida> Mine was too, you guys need to stop texting and get to class.
You> sure, see you on the track field lida. this gc is getting deader by the day and it’s embarrassing to watch.
(seen by kirishima, Mina, and Bakugou)
lida> typing...
You shut off your phone with a smile, knowing that got him heated. You didn’t even care for his response. you loved messing with lida, it was funny, you sprayed a little vanilla perfume on your body and you were off to a place you dreaded.
...
You were now in the library studying with Mina. Mina was like your best friend, you told her everything and she told you everything. “Have you seen that picture of trey songz you know what?” she asked and your eyes went wide, in shock that she was talking about this in the library. “yes, but i can’t go crazy over it, he made the shit so corny. the whole post he made afterwards had me cringing at my phone so hard. i was like “boy what the fuck” he too old for that shit.” you told her and she giggled.
“I’m having a movie night with the rest of the group this saturday, you have to come. you never come to things with us anymore. Ever since bakugou started hanging out with us, you’ve been avoiding us. i’ve noticed some type of tension between you 2, i hope it isn’t sexual?” she stated and your stomach churned at the thought of that stuck up dummy.
“No, i just like staying to myself, that’s all. i think i’ll come Saturday as long as it’s not going to be a lot of people you know how busy i am with track and stuff.” you stated in reality you hated being around bakugo. especially since he always felt to make rude remarks towards you when everyone wasn’t around. He was normally mean to everyone, but you got it the worse since you had the shortest running time on the team. When track practice would come around you and him would argue with each other every second. you hated being yelled at or talked to badly and your mother sure didn’t raise a bitch so you talked to him just as reckless as he did to you and he hated every second of it since you were the first to ever test him. your personalities didn’t mix well at all.
“it’s only gonna be, denki, bakugo, kirishima, todoroki, asui, uruaka and deku but that’s if bakugo doesn’t mind.”
“yea, i’ll think about it.” you said softly.
...
you were now at practice and the death stares you received from bakugo made you just wanna slap the fuck out of him. His eyes followed you as you warmed up. You could see him start to come towards you and you sighed. His tall figure stood in front of you, blocking the sun, his body shaded you. “You draw too much attention.” He stated as the boys that were on the team stared at you. You were the only girl on the track team so you learned to get used to it. “I know, why are you telling me this?” you asked and he gritted his teeth, “All of those boys are practically eye raping you.” he states, taking in your appearance and you sighed, “I don’t know what to fucking say. these are the only sizes in shirts they have and if my curves happen to show then so be it. it’s not like the whole thing is out.”
Sweat dripped from the side of his head, he had on a white tank top and some nike shorts with some white vapor max. a towel hung over his broad shoulders. your eyes scanned his body, you never thought bakugo was ugly, he was perfect when it came to looks. He was very tall with a slim, muscular build, and a fair skin tone. He had short, spiky, ash-blond hair that looked soft. His eyes were a sharp and bright red in color that showed his hostility. his looks fit his personality though, very cocky.
“Why do you care?” You asked and his cheeks turned a bright pink and anger came upon him, this line made him mad, “I don’t.” he replied angrily. “Well then stop telling me things i already know. All you do is bother me.” you told and his lips curved into a smirk, “Your existence bothers me, imagine how I feel.”
You rolled your eyes, pushing past him aggressively. He can be so fucking annoying. Imaging having to be on the same team as someone you hate. It’s really irritating, especially when the person is somebody as arrogant as he is. He needs to be humbled.
...
You and Bakugou were the only 2 left after practice, your coach was mad at the both of you because of what happened last week with the sub coach. Bakugou had been bothering you that day and you snapped and then you two decided to have a race on your own which didn’t turn out so well since bakugou got mad that you won in the end.
So now you and him were being forced to do “after practice workouts” with each other. You were now lying on the ground of the track floor, exhausted. Bakugou was right next to you, your chest rose up and down, your breathing heavy and your legs worn out. You looked over at him, and he looked over at you. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just wouldn’t hate me so much and accept that i’m faster than you.” you stated and his red eyes stared at your light brown ones. “Can’t blame this all on me. You hate me as well and you don’t know when to shut up. You don’t have to respond to everything i say but you do.” He said and you placed your hands at your stomach, “I’m not about to let you walk all over me like you do everyone else. Your ego is too big and i’m doing nothing but lowering it.”
“Is that what you think?” he asked and you sighed softly looking him in his eyes trying to search for anything but anger but there was no other emotion but that, his pupils did dilate once he noticed how hard you were staring into his eyes though, “It’s not what i think, it’s what i know.” you said. “i don’t understand why you are always so angry all the time. I don’t even know how you have the friends that you have. obviously that means they see past it but i refuse to. i can’t. sorry but that’s just how i am.” you stated sitting up, he sat up with you staring at you, “i don’t understand how you have friends, you are very competitive and just avoid me then. We can always hate each other from a distance.” he stated and you smiled shaking your head as you stood up.
“Can’t do that when we have the same friends and are on the same team and i’m only competitive when it comes to track. So i’ll just hate you regardless and plus you always keep your enemies close. It doesn’t matter though, i’m still faster.” you added on that last part trying to make him mad and you could hear him start to yell as you walked off and a smile came upon your lips.
There’s no way you could ever be friends with him so why even bother trying. Something about him makes your blood boil.
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