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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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Petal

college!sebastian stan x reader

masterlist

Summary; Your boyfriend Sebastian has been spending much time studying, hardly sparing himself a break. Finally, he sees the pros of taking one

Warnings; smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, fluff

divider by @firefly-graphics

Sebastian was to be home any minute, he had been prolifically stressed from his classes regarding his law certification, and you had decided to exhibit him a well deserved distraction that would surely take his wired brain off from the course that was practically running through his veins at this point.

It seemed that at every waking moment, he was doing something to aid his studies, and whilst that was great that he was so dedicated to passing for this insane qualification, he did need to take breaks here and there. He wasn't the only one suffering from his late nights, and his resurrection from slumber at the crack of dawn, no. You were too, you missed him, despite being in the same apartment and room as him for the majority of his spare time.

He acted as though he had no time to spare, but you were well acquainted with his schedule, especially by now. The only difference was, that he had no occupation for a moment to relax with you, or by himself. His showers took five minutes every morning and evening, it was as though he were rushing to clean himself so that he could proceed to go back to putting his nose in a book, or searching specifics online.

But tonight, you were going to cut him off. If he didn't endure a moment of mindlessness, then you were sure to go mad yourself. You were keening for his touch, all you had received in the past few weeks were chaste kisses on both your lips and forehead, as well as verbalised 'I love you's. Perhaps it was selfish, he was striving towards a great achievement in his life, and you wanted a little bit of attention, but you knew he was holding himself from any relief also.

From the minimal time that he spent under the cold stream of the showerhead, he didn't have enough time to rub one out, and there was no fear that you had of him seeing another woman. Sebastian was not like that at all, and you had the clarity of him being in the kitchen half the time, typing away on his laptop, as he ran over some old notes and updated them.

Currently, he was out, he was in his lecture. There was a span of fifteen minutes from the time that he would be on the walk home, and you knew that was exactly how long that took in your shared student apartment, because you too endured your studies. But once more, your own were pushed to the side as you speculated your appearance in the silver tapestry of your mirror.

Your hand steadied on your right hip as you posed in front of it, twisting your waist to find the most attractive angle for you in your new wear. The underwear was tight, and not to mention, completely sheer. It's see through nature made wearing it practically pointless, but considering his current frustrations, it was only fair to give something to rip off of you.

Truthfully, you had to admit, you looked damned good. There was no way he would choose studying law over ravishing your body, a spark jolted through your body as the door behind you opened, and with a seductive bite to your lip, you turned around, only to scream and cover your body with your hands, or at least to the best of your ability. "Holy fuck, don't you know how to knock?!"

"I didn't think I'd have to because your human dildo isn't here!" Anthony defended himself, having turned around, as the image of you, one of his best friends, practically in the nude, burned behind his eye balls. The fact that he had seen you made you feel sick, this was not how you had intended the afternoon to go.

"Is there a reason that you burst into my room looking for me Mackie?" The question was indeed one that you wanted to know the answer to, you still felt so exposed, although he was not looking at you. That was certainly something that you were going to avoid telling Seb, that would definitely be a big distraction from his work.

And of course, alongside that, he would have an intent to possibly murder your flat mate, and whilst Chris would be laughing at that, there would be a heavy hotness to your face, as you watched them immaturely battle. Anthony cleared his throat thoroughly, directing towards the face that he was about to speak.

"Definitely not to see you like that." Retorted the math major, shrugging the shiver off his shiver as the memory tormented him once more. "But... me and Chris were going to meet with Scarlett, Takia and Brie, we were going to see if you and Seabass wanted to join, but as I saw against my own will, you have something already planned for your dinner."

“Um yeah, no, we’ll pass. Thanks tho buddy.” Oh god, to say you felt awkward was an understatement. If you were wearing clothes, or at least more socially appropriate ones, you’d go to him and give him a typical punch on the shoulder. Though, if you were clothed more body wear, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. Only things like this happened in college flats, that was one thing that could be confirmed.

“Okay then. Good to know...” Anthony closed the door and proceeded to enter the kitchen. He went grab himself an apple, and realised then that it was an unfortunate consequence, but he had lost his appetite. There had been nothing wrong with your appearance - nothing at all - but you were his flat mate and friend! And, you had a boyfriend, whom was also a great reference of social interaction for him.

The sound of keys interlocking with the outside of the door echoed through the kitchen, someone was outside, and he’d be write in assuming that it was Sebastian. Chris was presently occupied by scouring the internet for ways to surprise the girl he was currently hanging with, and honestly by that, Anthony was scared to enter his room.

It could have been anything that he was searching, but to his contrasting luck, the last resident of their flat entered, creases firm on his brow, from thinking too hard. Sebastian was mulling over the lecture that his professor had given his class. Remember to take a break every now and then. Maybe he was right, a break couldn't postpone him from graduating him that much, could it.

Perhaps he was putting it all off, because after receiving his degree, the four of you would have to find somewhere else to live, and a part of Seb was inclined to ask you individually to move in with him. A one bedroom apartment would be cheaper than one with three rooms, and atop of that, he wouldn't have to be cautious of minor things like walking around the flat in little to no clothing, or fucking you on the kitchen counter.

They were all coupley things that he had wishes to do, but because there were another two men residing with you and him, albeit them being your friends, he didn't allow you to do so in anything less than one of his shirts that cascaded down your thighs, so that if you weren't wearing panties, everything would be concealed. Anthony gulped, remembering he had seen you in your surprise for this man, and gosh, did he want to keep quiet about his accidental peek.

Sebastian wasn’t the jealous type, it was rather refreshing how he found that to be an unappealing trait, however, it would still not settle well that someone saw his girl, in a compromising choice of wear that was supposed to be for his eyes only. He would surely make it clear that you were his, and thus the fucking in the kitchen that he dreamt about would be more than likely to unfold, as he rammed you against the cupboards, caring not if guests were due.

“Hey.” It was a breath of fresh air to speak to someone who was not on his course, it was as though he had become estranged from the people closest to him during this part of the term. Thus a striking pang of guilt landed in his chest as he wondered how you must have felt. He hadn’t touched you in any intimate sense in weeks, it certainly felt like years.

That truth gave him no pride, he dropped his items on the counter, planning on returning to them after he had tended to greeting you. A long kiss sounded nice, strung by a chord of untwined tongues that groomed the insides of your mouth, as you reciprocated. If he was very generous to himself, he’d perhaps lay down for a moment, and allow his pianist hands to wander for more than a moment, stroking them up and down your thighs, until he gave supple attention to your sweet delicacy, dipping down to kiss it and run his fingers over the beautiful gates that only he was allowed to surpass through.

Anthony muffled a reply to him, before shuffling out the room, casting him a weird side eye, but Sebastian thought little of it as his mind was preoccupied with something other than his studies. Oh, and how he didn't mind. The mental image of your nude portrait blessing his eyes was enough motivation to have him striding at a fast, yet considerable pace, towards the door to your shared bedroom.

He knew you must have been inside, he saw your lanyard hanging on the coat rack, that was literally a makeshift piece of wood that you had drunkenly returned with one night, along with a very much intoxicated Paul Rudd. There had been construction nearby, and you thought that it was possible to turned the sharp edged plank with nails sticking out as a bedframe. Least to say, Sebastian did not allow that to happen, knowing that one morning, you would end up spiking your scalp against one of the rusted nails.

People had gotten hurt by it from where it was already, there was that time that Tessa had tried to lean on it for a photo, that in retrospect was an applicant towards your photography course, but that didn't end well, you were pretty sure there was still a streak of her blood stained into one side. That may have been why Chris had turned its weight around after that. However, none of you had the money to spare to invest in a real rack, so for now it stayed.

It sure as hell wasn't coming with you guys when you moved out, that was one thing that Sebastian was going to ensure. If Anthony wanted it, then so be it, if all went to plan, the pair of you wouldn't be living with the lovable goof when the time came. Turning the knob to the room, Sebastian heard a gasp, and thus after he shut it, he saw you wrapped up in your robe, your head cocked to the side as you seductively tried to settle on your small double bed.

"You made me jump Sebba." No, he could tell that you had been taking a short nap, as though you had wanted to forget some details from your day. And that you did, and you hoped that Anthony did as well. "Have you got much work to do bubs?" You raised yourself on your elbows and shuffled towards him as he came to sit on the side of the mattress.

"Think I'm going to take a short hiatus from it for a few hours." Now that certainly sounded pleasant, you hummed at his words, stroking his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his hand that moved cup your cheek. "Have I been neglecting my little petal?" It was a name he used whenever he was seeking forgiveness, but this time, you shook your head, frowning, as you settled a small smile on your face.

"You've been understandably busy, I get that. I'm not going to go as far as to use that word babes, you've just had a little time to yourself and your schoolwork, and that is fine." He tapped your chin, cocking his head to the side, inviting you to straddle his lap. You'd have been stupid if you refused after all the time that you had spent mentally apart from him, so without another hint, you clambered over his thighs, a giddy expression corrupting your face.

"This is why I love you. So open minded, and not to mention, that mind of yours has had me doing some thinking." Nodding in a current to prompt him to continue, his hands eased their lodging onto your bare thighs, stroking the skin with large soothing swipes, making any hair on your body stand on edge, as he averted his eyesight to the split of your gown that crisscrossed around your chest. It wasn't a sexual focus however, it was more so as though he feared a rejection of one kind.

"Hope you're not gonna propose us having a kid or something, because now is certainly not the time." At your humour, he sincerely laughed, causing a calm to wash over you and him, as he finally looked you in the face. “Unless you mean buying a plant, our last one died, and now you use the old pot to stub out your blunts." You could see the improvisational container as you turned your head to the side, seeing its white exterior be a gradient of light to shielded grey.

"I want you to move in with me." Sebastian responded straightly, bracing his slightly nervous palms to the divot of your waist, as he grasped the skin below your ribs, swirling the pads of his thumbs across your skin, caressing each nimble pore on that part of your body. His breath captured the side of your neck, as he licked a sweet line across a vein that he specifically picked out using his

"We already live together silly. Unless we're gonna move to mars." As you spoke, your brows optimistically raised, as your forearms found a home around the back of his neck, as you pressed tentative kisses to his clean jaw. A series of giggles evicted from you as you darted your tongue out to taste his sharp skin, your hand slipping down to control his own, trailing his touch beneath your gown so that the tips of his fingers were brushing the mesh of your underwear that was poised in a curve upon your hipbone.

"As much as the space nerd in me would love that, and not to mention you would make one foxy astronaut, I meant, after this, and here, we find a place for just you and me. I get if you don’t-“ you pressed your left forefinger to his lips, humming with a smile as he shared a gentle kiss upon your skin. He took the digit into his mouth, sucking the skin and swirling his tongue around the crescent of your nail.

“That sounds... perfect.” Ushering your finger from out past his lips, and the barrier of his nipping teeth, you languidly stroked his bottom lip, spreading the small extent of saliva that had coated your finger. “I’m so happy you’re taking a break Sebba, you deserve it. There’s something I want to show you baby, I know you’re going to like it.”

“Is it under this robe by any chance?” Obliging his answer with a supporting action, you allowed his hands to remain beneath the sleek material, as you untied the thick strand that tied the two sides together around your body. Pushing the dark silk from your shoulders, you revealed the design of petals that prompted through the thin material of your undergarments, everything exposed through the sultry and intimate pieces.

“Do you like it?” You seemed to have forgotten about Anthony seeing you in the internal wear, and from Sebastian’s honed gazing at your full breasts, your nipples sternly grew hard, telling him without need for word that he was silently turning you on. A sigh escaped from him, as he plucked at the seam of your panties, tugging lightly at the side to drag the material up your slit, grasping a light moan from your intimately affected lungs.

“My lovely petal, like is an understatement. You do all this for me, I don’t think I’m going to know how much this was, especially where we’re supposed to be budgeting.” Seb quirked his unbrushed brow, pressing his lips against the column of your throat, intaking the smell and pungent taste of your floral perfume. “But I’m not going to complain, because seeing you like this is certainly worth a fine penny. Is it ungrateful for me to want it off of you though?”

“Wait.” You instructed him, pressing your tongue into the divot of his chin, swiping a line of saliva through the bone structure. “I think we should get my money’s worth. First, I want to get my fill of your appreciation, and then maybe, maybe then I’ll allow you to discard piece by piece from my skin.” Your dominant hand pressed against his growing bulge as a you slid off his lap, running your nose along his thighs, as you fiddled with the purchase of his jeans, him helping you tug the denim off, and down his thick thighs.

“You’re so good to me.” He leaned back, curling his fists into the sheets, as he watched you enduringly pat him over his boxers, drawing a spot of precum to seep out onto the white cotton. “My beautiful petal, hungry for my cock, you want it, don’t you? Want to suck my hard cock, practically starving for it, ain’t ya?” Profusely nodding, you drooled as he twitched, and pushed down his underwear, revealing his uncut, and growing cock.

“Holy shit.” Escaped you as a breathy conjunction of two words, your palm reaching out to rotate his foreskin in your hand, pushing the layer back gently to reveal his hidden slit. Your tongue darted out over the flushed head, suckling on the sensitive portion, spoiling yourself with the salty taste of his aroused skin. “You have such a pretty cock baby.” Pressing a kiss along the length, you dragged your tongue up his shaft, before returning to the tip, swallowing down his cock in your throat.

“Fuck.” Your boyfriend revelled in the pleasure, one of his hands capturing your hair in its hold, running his fingers through your locks as you bobbed your head. Gargled sounds choked out from your easing throat, as you continued your administrations, making Seb squeeze his eyes shut, as he endured the pleasure that you pledged him with. “Baby...”

You moaned around his cock, your glazed irises peeking up at him, before pulling off, a strand of saliva connecting you to his hung length. “Say it.” Was his demand as his hand pressed the cheeks of your face together, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pout. It was a notion of past experiences that reminded you of what he was speaking of, you blinked your lashes innocently towards him, steadily breathing through your nose as he patiently awaited for you to carry out his order.

“I’m your cockslut.” You mumbled out, spit pooling out of your mouth and rolling down the cleavage of your lips, descending onto your chin, and slipping to be a river down your chest, playing hide and seek in the cups of your sheer bra. “Love your fat cock, and your large balls, and the way your mouth exhibits complete bliss over my pussy.” He tilted your head to the side, as he leaned down, his spare hand reaching behind you to remove your bra, leaving it hanging loosely off from your shoulders.

“How about I eat your cunt, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you petal?” A whine slipped from your lips as you shouldered off the floral laced bra, discarding it on the bedroom floor, as you waded your legs about so that you could do the same with the slim lined panties. “Come on then, get up on the bed pretty girl, let me at that pussy.” Doing as he said, you clambered onto the mattress, your front against the sheets as you tried to position yourself. A slap rumbled off your ass cheek, as Sebastian struck down on the globe of fat, straggling a surprised moan from your lips.

It seemed like he wanted you to remain on your stomach, and so you did as he breathed a swab of cool air upon your clenching lips, swiping his tongue from your heavy clit to your soaking entrance. “Sebs, do something, please.” You collapsed your face into the bed, wiggling your ass towards his face, earning yourself another spank to your behind. It stung, but it was a hot heat that granted you a minor bit of relief; it was certainly better than nothing.

And then, his tongue probed at your entrance, test tasting your cunt as his muscle flicked deliriously over your clit, his forefinger prying at your slit, and slipping without struggle inside of your walls, evoking a withering moan to collapse out from your chest. Another digit slunk through your folds, filling your further, as his pace increased, his mouth surrounding your clit, and rolling the bud around with his instigating tongue. “Petal, pass me the lube.”

With a light head, you blindly reached your hand across to on top of his bedside table, locating the bottle with your fiddling hands, tossing it back towards him. A thump indicates that it did not land on the mattress as planned, instead the container of lubricant hit him in the forehead. A frown covered his face as he shook his head, removing his fingers from your folds, as he grasped the bottle, splurging some of the clear and slippery liquid onto his fingertips.

Seb spread it around his fingers, rubbing it onto his skin, as he applied a little onto your tight hole, prying at your puckered entrance with his lubricated digits. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You gently rubbed your face against the sheets as Sebastian entered his fingers into your ass, quickly thrusting them in and out of you. “Feels so good Sebby, shit.” He continued his administrations with a clenched wrist, evicting pleasure upon you as you practically sobbed onto your shared bed. “No, no-“

He removed his fingers, as well as his own shirt that was still covering his chest. Seb clambered off the bed for a moment, locating a condom, as he gave his cock a couple of jerks, rolling the avast protection onto his length, as he positioned himself on his knees behind you. He entered you swiftly, returning his fingers back into your tighter hole, as he began to thrust into both of your entrances. Sounds of pleasure were compelled out from your lungs, as you half screamed his name; there were tears collecting in the corners of your eyes as you endured wafts pleasure from both intimate angles.

He curled his fingers within you, picking up his pace as his hips profusely clashed against your own. He was chasing a high, whilst simultaneously reducing you to nothing but a racer to your own. “So fucking tight; in both holes.” His teeth clenched as he moaned at the sensation of your walls clenching harshly around him, as he filled the condom with his white and warm seed. He remained inside of you as he brought one hand down to your cunt, playing with your clit, as he sternly thrusted his fingers into your ass.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak, cumming around his softened cock, and mewling into your own wrist. Sebastian extracted his tender cock from within you, also removing his fingers, as he swiped off the condom, tying to open side so that no cum would spill out, and then discarding it in the bin. “Shit, I was wanting some attention from you, but I didn’t know I was going to get that.” You laughed lightly, feeling a little hazy and drunk from your numbing orgasm.

In turn, your boyfriend laughed too, grabbing his shirt from off the ground, and lightly pulling you up, helping you into the baggy material. He pressed a sweet kiss upon your forehead as he rolled to be laid beside you, bringing your sweaty body into his matching side, watching through appeased lids at how you curled yourself into him. “I love you darling.”

“I love you too Seb.” You replied, pressing a kiss to his soft nipple, as his arms locked adoringly around you. “And I’m so proud of you for putting your all into your course.” Your nails stroked down his stomach, as the two of you laid upon the sheets, rather than underneath them.

“Of course I would, it’s for our future in the long term of things.” He stated, brushing any loose strands of hair out from your face. “But I guess it’s okay to take a break sometimes. And that, well that was certainly worth the time away from studying, it always is with you.”

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astrum-naut · 3 years

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hopeless desires [y! jason todd x reader]

warning: graphic mentions of death and murder, possessiveness, jealousy, unhealthy behaviors

AUTHOR’S NOTE: firstly, matthew daddario as jason todd is *chef’s kisses* he perfectly encapsulates the grit and hurt the character has to offer, and here is the 2nd batboy to grace our presence :’’)) first angsty bit, poor jay :(( you really feel for the man but his actions are not all justified. but most especially poor reader. i’ve thought about publishing his head-canons along with dick’s (maybe tim’s and damian’s if i’m feeling inspirational enough since applications are on the horizon and i need to prepare). for me, he’s still pretty soft (i don’t like writing hardcore yans at all :// they’re a turn off and it makes me stop reading) but he’s much more darker compared to peter, clark, and cameron.

but without further ado, this is a work of fiction and everything written does not fully encompass and describe jason todd’s personality and character. also, feel free to send in asks / questions / clarifications / thoughts about him :DD

Blood gushed down Jason’s fists as he repeatedly pummeled your ex to the ground. He could clearly hear the sound of his skin breaking under the force of his punches and he did not dare stop. He relished in the blood squirting on his clothed form and his screams piercing the air of the Gotham alley, he wanted the bastard to feel the same way he did when he took you away from him.

His rage did not falter at your past lover flinging his arms towards his neck, attempting to scratch at any surface his nails could reach but to no avail. Hell, given the right time he might even laugh at the imagery. “Why the long face? Thought you were ready to suffer and give up everything for them. Guess you don’t keep your promises.” Jason seethed, kicking the man’s stomach mercilessly as the latter recoiled in pain. The latter hyperventilated, trying to catch his breath from the violence he had been inflicted upon. “Please, leave me alone. We broke up ages ago, before you came! There’s nothing between us...” He roared, his voice cracking at the end weakly as he tried to hug himself, striving to shield himself from any blows Jason planned to do to him.

The brunette scoffed, lowering himself to his level and gripping his face and pushing him towards the brick wall with a brute amount of strength. The man in question yelped and continued to sob, his nails dragging down the entirety of Jason’s left hand. He squeezed the man’s head, aiming to crush it as he spoke, “You weren’t the first one you know. I’ve seen too much of you, circling around them like a bunch of animals. They were all that I had and when I died, I got replaced by the likes of you sons of bitches.” The man whimpered at his tone as he continued, “But now that I’m back, I’m not going to stop until all of you are done interfering with us.” He wraps his hands around the man’s head and cracks his neck swiftly, his body hits the pavement lifelessly as Jason wipes his mouth with his hand.

His blood still continues to boil at the man’s state, death still not satisfying his possessive tendencies. He lets out a puff of air and proceeds to clean his mess, stuffing the man’s body in a black garbage bag and soaking the sticky fluid with a rag coated in hydrogen peroxide.

Soon after the whole ordeal, he walks towards the diner and grabs a quick meal with you. Despite your lovely appearance and personality gracing his presence, he couldn’t take his mind off that guy. He clenched his glass of water and nearly crushes it as he thinks of what possibly happened while he was gone. You’ve spent the majority of your most formative years living as one should, while he was enforced into the life of crime and justice as soon as he learned how to talk.

His eyes glazed over at the thought of him being able to live a normal life. No more Batman, no more gunfire, no more unhealthy lifestyles and morals hanging by a thread. He didn’t have to worry about the next big threat that would tear the city to shreds, he didn’t have to keep on fighting with his extended family out of his deep-seated issues, he would have just never existed. He thought about running away multiple times, settling down somewhere in the woods, where’d you both enjoy literature and perform domestic tasks as spouses. Maybe if it even went there, you’d have children.

But he knew he was in too deep. If he disappeared, how would the rest of his estranged family members react? Territories and entire strings of connections taken by his own hands won’t just sit there while he’s having the life they wanted to live as well. They’d be after you, possibly murdering you or even committing the most heinous crimes towards you. The reality of the situation made his eyes watery and throat clump up. It was a dangerous choice he knew he couldn't maintain whether he wanted it to or not. He was not destined to be with you as much as he wanted, the universe stacked too many odds against him for you to be together, and he’d have to live with the fact. In the back of his mind, he also knew you weren’t willing to bear the burdens of his actions and live the rest of your years in pain and suffering. So, the friendship you have now would suffice--

“Jay? Is everything okay? You’re zoning out again...” Your soft voice pulls him out of your day-dream as he shivers at your touch. You were caressing his hand and looking at him with so much concern as he coughs in embarrassment, “Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

You smile at him sincerely, the expression never failing to make his heart stutter as you spoke, “Don’t be silly, I care about you. We’re friends after all.” Your words cause him to look at you darkly, eyes spinning with sadness, anger, jealousy, and defeat. Maybe if he paid close attention, he could feel you retracting your hand and staring at him fearfully.

“Yes… Thank you for worrying about me...”

Yet, every time you manage to say them, it always brings him one step closer to taking you for himself and leaving his abusive life behind. Truth to be told, he’d never be satisfied at the relationship you have with him currently. He’s too desperate and blind to the universe’s plans to listen and he’s going to make sure that one day, you know of it as well.

#yandere jason todd yandere jason todd x reader yandere jason todd x reader angst yandere jason todd x reader imagine

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pixie-cocaine · 4 years

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ATEEZ Reaction To: Having a wet dream about you

yourusernames: Omg can I request ATEEZ reaction to having a wet dream about their friend? (Who would start developing a crush, who would want to have a one night stand and who wouldn't care at all?) Thanks!!

A/N: These reactions are based solely off of what I think they’d do, I am in no way, shape or form, telling you that this IS how the members would handle this scenario. Like shit, I dunno the guys :/. This is a gender neutral reader reaction btw :)

(This is very explicit, you have been warned!!!)

Hongjoong ♡:

• It felt like the actual thing

• Your lips; sweet like pink lemonade and eyes staring into his with a soft sparkle that originated from his bedside lamp

• but what felt more real than anything was you

• Your scent, your taste

• Your touch...

• It was all overwhelming in the sense that he found himself breaking out of his dreaming state, breath heavy as if he’d been sprinting for hours, and a lusty sheen screening his mind from acting with any sense of rationality

• He was horny horny, dawg 💀

• I feel for that man, it’s tough...

• He could already tell that he had an...accident, before he pushed the duvet off his body due to registering the last couple twitches of his restricted cock in his shorts

• No wonder he could ‘feel’ everything so well

• He wasn’t able to sleep the rest of the night.

• Couldn’t help but begin to feel a crush blossom for you

• As y’all already know, the man gets attached to the ones he spends the most time with

• You’re no exception

• Would end up telling you about his feelings. It was eating him up inside to keep it to himself

Seonghwa ♡:

• He has no right looking this good, dawg. It literally makes me so mad lmao

• Lemme lick your face, I bet it tastes like expensive concealer and everything I’ll never have >:}

• Anywhore

• He felt feverish, even inside his dream

• It was odd; he could feel you, but he couldn’t feel you. He remembers the surreal sensation of warmth under his palms as he grabbed onto your bare ass whilst you bounced you on top of him, panting hard and clutching at his damp hair to pull his head back

• He groaned, and just as he went to switch positions, he was snapped out of his dream

• Was like “Fuckin pardon?” when he realised where he was; his empty bed, alone in his own room, no sign of you

• Frowned, pushing the covers off of him because dawg, he was heating up OwO

• Then realised the large wet spot at the front of his sweatpants

• “What the...”

• Was never the same™

• Everytime he saw you, he couldn’t help but feel that same heat in his hands, and he felt guilty about it.

• Didn’t know how to approach you about it at all. What was he supposed to say?

• “I nutted in my pants because I dreamt about doing the dirty with you”

• Just wouldn’t bring it up

• Good chance he’d catch feelings. Seonghwa builds bonds with the people he knows, it’s very easy to tell that when he cares, and he would care dearly for you. Once the chance that anything intimate between you two arises, I’m sure he’d begin to think of you romantically once you’re shown in said light.

Yunho ♡:

• Now wouldn’t a flustered Yunho be a sight? Damn...

• He loved looking down at you

• The way you smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling his bare chest into yours as you whispered how good he felt inside you, cooing out words of praise and encouragment

• It was hazy, but he can still vaguely remember how you kissed him so sweetly. How your fingers smoothed his bangs away from his eyes, and how you moaned into his ear softly with each thrust

• It was only when you cupped his cheeks and spoke, did you break him out of his dream;

• “Wake up.”

• His eyes shot open

• Only a blue ceiling stared back

• “Mmm...?” Yunho sits up and rubs his eyes roughly, already aware of the blush that paints his cheeks and nose because he can feel the heat in his face

• Said ‘What the fawk 😃’ when his brain caught up with what he just experienced, as well as the stickiness that clung to his inner thighs when he moved to go get some water

• This bitch was contemplating his whole life after that

• Is ‘UwU’ with you from then on cuz a babie caught butterfwies ;(

• Rlly bad at hiding his feelings lol, you’d catch on eventually

Yeosang ♡:

• It was messy, to say the least

• Kitchen island sex? Yup :D

• The dream wasn’t at all put into play with any sense. You guys were just... in the kitchen, when you confessed your feelings and made a move on him

• A deep kiss mixed with the pounding of nervous hearts all put Yeosang in a fever outside of his dream

• “Say you like it,” You panted, using the hand on the back of his head to push his forehead against yours while the other kept you from laying onto the island

• “I like it.. Fuck, I like it”

• “Yeah?” His hips stutter when you clench your walls around him, and in turn, he lets out a choked-off gasp

• “Y一Oh my god一Yeah...”

• Damn... he was FEELING it lmao

• Funny thing is that he slept throughout the entire dream and woke up only when his foot did a little mid-sleep spasm

• Stared at the wall while frowning for soooooo fucking long

• Whole time he said ‘ya know wot, that’s real interesting 🤔’

• Then was like “Prolly just horny 😃. oh well, time to change my underwear”

• And that’s what he chalked it up to in the end. Would maybe make a joke about it to you next time y’all hung out if he’s feeling loose enough and doesn’t mull over it for too long

San ♡:

• HEATHEN

• Hold on, lemme get a half-assed feel for the man... yes... mm-hm... ah, I see... OK!

• So, from what I can tell, San would distance himself from you slightly. Maybe.

• That night, as he lie in his bed, breath coming faster with each motion that went on in his head, he saw you in a way that he never thought would happen.

• Skin, slick with sweat and eyes like burning coals as they focused on him. There wasn’t much to remember before it was already fading, but he could still make out how much his stomach lept and spun, heart oh-so thunderous in his chest. Whatever you did with him in the dream... it sparked something inside him.

• San was in a daze as he woke up, his body not quite cooperating with him when he tried to sit up, and instead, falling limp with the next couple of attempts.

• WHEN I TELL YOU THE SOUL WAS SUCKED FROM THIS MAN AISDIUBFADEBI-

• Really just stared into space with the look of a dead man

• What did he do when he finally saw you again?

• ✨ pretend he didn’t see shit ✨

• Not the masked uncomfort-

• Depending on whether you’re one for confrontation, he might just cave if you press him about his weird behavior enough, but be fast, because I’m sure he could push his feelings down succesfully if he tried hard enough.

Mingi ♡:

• Dude... the fucking happiness of the dream...

• Silly giggles when you’d accidentally bonk eachother while switching posititons, bright smiles when you stared at eachother after a long time, random compliments, and nothing too serious that you couldn’t find playfulness in. Even when you’d both stop smiling to let out small moans and feel the moment together, it was always lighthearted.

• FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK IM SO ANGRY-

• It was some shit you’d see at the sundance ;(

• Then he woke up-

• You were the first and only thing he thought about as he gained conciousness. He wanted you... you, you, you, just you.

• He’d never wanted anything so bad. A sudden longing that made a lump form in his throat and an overwhelming feeling of how much he’s always wanted you.

• So, like Mingi does, he strived for that goal >:D

• He made an effort to see you as many times as he could and whenever you were free to hang out. And finally, one night when you both lie in his bed and gazed thoughtlessly at the ceiling, he told you.

• “I had a dream about you, you know.”

Not me basically making a summary of a could-be fic-

Wooyoung ♡:

• Now believe it or not, this bitch is hard for me to get a grasp on. All I can say with confidence is that he has the sex appeal of a milf stripper and is kinda stubborn-

• Hmm.... bothered.

• That is the feeling it would pull from him.

• Hungry; frequent patterns of warm breath against sweat-slicked skin, mumbled curses past wet lips, nails dug into his stomach deep enough to draw blood yet barely acknowledged through animalistic films over both your eyes, and teeth furrowed into the flesh of his shoulder as you scratched at the blank canvas of his back.

• It was all raw sexual aggression from both sides. So much so, that you both practically fought during it.

“I hate you. I hate you like you don’t even know, Wooyoung,” You speak, breathless, and reach up to weave both fists into his hair, “I love you so much that I fucking... hate you.”

• Then...

• Gone.

• Just like that, the dream was replaced with the sight of familiar bedroom walls as Wooyoung opened his eyes, a sigh escaping past his lips when he finally pieced things together.

• “As if I wasn’t already stressed enough...,” He murmurs, staring down at the new stain on his sweatpants.

• From that point on, it’s a new habit for Wooyoung to catch sight of you and keep his gaze there; just staring when you’re not looking, and feeling terrible afterwards. He feels like he violated you somehow, and with that ball of dread in his stomach whenever he sees you, he becomes distant.

• It’s not catching feelings so much as it is a new desire.

Jongho ♡:

• Jongho, Jongho, Jongho... whatever will we do with you?

• Upfront about it, surprisingly.

• He caught feelings. How could he not when you’re one of the most breath-taking people he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing?

• That face of yours, along with your voice so soft and encouraging in his ears, was enough for him to cave.

• “Just like that, baby... Just like that.”

• He doesn’t even remember the details of the dream. Just your words and kisses, which still make the touched skin of his body heat with excitement whilst he blinks down at his hands.

• He clenches them; one, twice, then lets them fall back to his sides. He doesn’t need to look into his pants to know that he’s soiled himself.

• He feels kinda... empty? After the dream. Lmao just as exhausted as San was, really, but both at the fluttering his heart when he thinks of you, and the dream itself, so cleans himself up real quick before going back to sleep.

• The fluttering doesn’t go away the next morning.

• So... he tells you :D

• As soon as you walk through the door, holding a bag of snacks and drinks for preparation to crash at Jongho’s apartment for a little bit, he sits you down on the couch, much to your confusion at the serious face he has.

• “I know that this kind of thing can ruin friendships and I don’t want that. At all. But, I had a... dream, about you last night and now I can’t really stop thinking about you...”

• Not the pounding of his heart making him dizzy :*

#ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #Smut #kpop reactions #idol reactions #idol reader

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mc-critical · 3 years

Note

Been a while but didnt want to overwhelm you

Hope You're fine!

So my question is between Nurbanu Sultan, Safiye Sultan and Mihrimah Sultan who was more Influential during Selim's and Murad's Reign? We Know that Mihrimah acted as Valide sultan too (with Nurbanu) and Safiye, considering Mihrimah's Support shouldn't have been far too off considering she was also Haseki and Very Respected.

My List in Selim's Reign Would Be

1.Mihrimah

2.Nurbanu

3.Safiye

My List in Murad's Reign would be

1.Nurbanu

2.Mihrimah

3.Safiye

Murad Respected Mihrimah Sultan Very much so i believe , as long as mihrimah lived, Sultan Murad Held her high in Status, Considering the rank in the harem Mihrimah,as a royal blood sultana plus older than nurbanu, should've been comparable to her or more influntial.

Let me know your opinion<3

During Selim's reign, both Mihrimah and Nurbanu certainly played historically, since Mihrimah was defacto his Valide and Nurbanu - his haseki. Mihrimah could be the one that dominated at first, because she ruled his harem and certainly kept stuff under control, but when Selim eventually married Nurbanu, she became the most influential woman in his reign. Safiye wasn't all that influential during Selim's reign, since she was gaining a favorable position in Murad's harem and the battle between her and Nurbanu probably intensified only during his reign.

In the show, things aren't so predetermined. We had Mihrimah leaving the capital even before SS died and Selim officially ascended the throne, leaving stuff to Nurbanu and Safiye even earlier. It's pretty much up for speculation on whether she came back or not and how involved she was in Selim's reign. The amount of influence she had in the reign depends on whether she came back or not. If she didn't come back, she could've definetly supervised stuff or at least send someone to tell her what the news are through Safiye, whom she herself trained in the show. Then I don't really see her coming back or doing stuff directly, because she had Safiye for this purpose already, she had someone to work against Nurbanu who was to keep being faithful to her (and judging by Safiye's characterization in MCK, yes, she stays true to what Mihrimah has told her about Hürrem and her legacy and based nearly her entire philosophy and principles on that). She would visit Selim, she would still help him if he needed that help, no matter how resentful she was to him for Bayezid, Selim himself would want to calm her. She left stuff go according to her plans (Safiye ultimately defeated Nurbanu) and she would have a say on how this whole battle would go before her death, but would she have all the say, if she somehow didn't rule Selim's harem? I doubt it. But then again, Selim would want her back, because someone would have to rule the harem after all and for them to maybe start over. She may try her best to rule his harem, to work against Nurbanu as a Valide and to enhance the conflict between her and Safiye and she may be the dominating force for a while, but Nurbanu would gain the upper hand eventually, due to all the support Selim would give her, especially if Mihrimah wouldn't want to let go of her resentment of Selim and he saw that. It would be a hard fight between them, since I feel who's more influential depends not as much on their positions in the hierarchy as it does on whoever gets more support from Selim eventually. Nurbanu would know that, too, and strive to keep the influence she had on him, while I think for Mihrimah it would take more time to try reaching out to Selim, because he had a finger in a wound of hers that probably would never heal and that could lose her some points. And once again, Nurbanu would prevail, because of Selim marrying her, hence giving her more priveleges and she would be more confident about asserting herself against Mihrimah. Nurbanu would perhaps struggle with Safiye more here than historically, because again, the battle would be on way earlier, but Nurbanu would still dominate as a favourite and haseki, while Safiye could show her force in a similar role to Nurbanu in Selim's reign only after Murat took over. Here too she would have the last position.

For the infamous fight for influence during Murad's reign historically, I have some quotes from Pinar Kayaalp's research on Nurbanu named "The empress Nurbanu and Ottoman politics in the sixteenth century. Building the Atik Valide": "In short, in contrast with Selim, who was rebuked for having transferred his authority to his imperial Divan, Murad was condemned for having conceded all his power to a close-knit coalition within the imperial harem loyal to the Valide Sultan. Murad’s haseki, Safiye, joined the fray, sometimes collaborating with but often acting against her mother-in-law and her allies. 125 Contemporaneous dispatches and relazioni of Venetian diplomats carefully reflect the transformation of power, following Nurbanu’s and Safiye’s political trajectory day by day. The minute details given in these sources illustrate that their authors discerned not one, but two foci of power in the imperial court. A relazione, that of Paolo Contarini dated 1583, stresses the good fortune of the Venetian Republic for having Nurbanu’s full support, since she was the most influential of the Sultan’s council, seconded by Safiye. It is a common occurrence that he shies away from any action necessitated by the [exigencies of] the day ahead, resting a deed principally on the counsel of his mother, believing that he could never obtain a more affectionate and faithful advice than hers, stemming from the reverence that he nurtures for her and his esteem for her rare qualities and many virtues. Another [woman] who has authority over His Majesty is the Sultana, his wife, who is also engaged skillfully in the affairs of state and makes her opinions heard, because she is loved infinitely by the Signor. As a result, this empire more and more has come to be governed by the [two] Sultanas, who use the magnificent pashas as the executors of their wishes and who summon them at their will as their counselors." The fight between Nurbanu and Safiye clearly marked Murad's whole reign and Nurbanu apparently held her ground very well, given Murad leaning on his mother's advices and support. She was the most influential person in his reign, with Safiye as an opposition and unfortunately or not, Mihrimah... wasn't much of a factor during the reign. After all, she lost the position as Selim's Valide, she died very early in Murad's reign and the quotes detail how the political power between the two forces that were Safiye and Nurbanu was growing rapidly. There isn't so much Mihrimah could've done historically, since the pashas and the divan probably had to choose to be either on Nurbanu's or Safiye's side.

In the show, we're again left on more speculation. And Mihrimah could've had more say than historically, because we were shown that Murad respected her, as well, and she specifically instructed Safiye. Until she died, she could've helped Safiye in her battle and if she was still in the castle, support her even and make things even harder for Nurbanu, and if she wasn't, she would've visited them at the very least, since Murad would surely ask about her. She would have reached out to him comparatively more easily than Selim, because there was no fight between both of them. Mihrimah could've ensured Safiye's victory somehow, with a plan or an advice Safiye followed even after Mihrimah died. But even then... the battle was between Safiye and Nurbanu and its outcome was the decider of who was the most influential. Here Nurbanu probably had even more of a struggle, because Murad was infatuated with Safiye even before Selim's reign officially began and it's more likely that he would get in fights with his mother because of Safiye. We know that Nurbanu does eventually become more cruel (Safiye saying she was the cruelest sultana she has even known) and that Safiye has been exiled once in the Old Castle during Murat's reign, so she has had much power and ruthlessness at her behest. We also know that Safiye eventually has gotten used to her own power so much that she refused to give up from it in MCK and I kinda doubt this began only from Mahmud's reign. (that's why I think Safiye has the best material for a spin-off out of the show!SOW - the contrast between her E239 words and MCK Safiye is massive and it's worth observing how we got from the person being there for a sole task and fulfilling the role Mihrimah trained her for to the person who not only got out of the role, faced so many hardships from the system that she gained a vast knowledge of it, but gained this much power, correspondance with queen Elizabeth, such presence and such a big confidence in herself.) So judging by the show' canon dynamics and from what we know, in Murad's reign, Nurbanu and Safiye were fighting tooth and nail with different amounts of upper hand when Nurbanu's influence as a Valide dominated until Safiye took over and Mihrimah probably helped Safiye to gain more supporters.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #mihrimah sultan #nurbanu sultan #safiye sultan #selim II #murad III #ask #therealhaseki #sorry this came out late again #I had irl stuff to deal with the last few days

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waithyuck · 3 years

Text

smile

***part of the nct almost collab by @hyucksie***

pairing: zhong chenle x reader (f)

genre: ANGST, a single grain of fluff

word count: 7k

warnings: swearing, depictions of depression, overall sadness, frustration/anger, the reader is sort of obsessed with chenle, heartbreak, descriptions of a panic attack + anxiety, chenle becomes an ass :/, forced kissing, hyuck is a good friend :)

a/n: my piece for the ALMOST collab! I hope you all enjoy this mess of feelings 🥴 idk if this is actually good or not but I think I’m happy with the way it turned out ??? idk anyway enjoy lmao

———

Ever since you could remember, you’ve had a crush on Chenle.

Literally ever since you could remember, considering he’s been in your life since you were five years old.

Classic boy next door trope, you could say.

You attended the same school and even shared classes together throughout your elementary and middle school years. High school obviously had a lot more freedom, giving you the opportunity to pick and choose classes that suited your interests. naturally, that pulled the two of you apart in a certain sense.

You could recall one instance in the very beginning of your freshman year where you caught Chenle and some random girl kissing behind the bleachers. It tore you apart inside, so young a fragile at the time, but you threw on a smile like you always tended to do, and let out a quick and airy apology before running off into the safety of Donghyuck’s arms.

Nonetheless, you and Chenle were pretty damn close; kind of like those best friends you see in books or stories...except that in fiction they usually end up together, and you and Chenle, well...haven’t yet.

You still had hope though, that maybe he felt the same way you did for him. You held onto that hope and cherished it, considering it was the only reason you could get up and face the world on most days.

Yeah, you knew it was pathetic. at least you could acknowledge the fact that relying on feelings from a boy you liked was incredibly stupid, but hey, you had the brain of a senior in high school.

Anyway, you and Chenle were very friendly toward each other, and of course you would talk to each other out your individual windows sometimes late at night, but it wasn’t like those stories people read online. You were simply really good friends; nothing like brother and sister, but certainly not anything more than just friends.

You’d say you probably know more about Chenle than most; besides your shared friends Donghyuck (who was already in university, and your closest friend next to Chenle) and Jisung (who was just a tad bit younger and too shy to really hold a conversation with you). You paid close attention to him because, well, who doesn’t want to know everything about the person they’re crushing on?

Even so, it was definitely a given that Chenle was extremely passionate about his schoolwork and his future career. This kid wanted to be the ‘best lawyer the world has ever seen’, according to himself. You were always supportive of him, egging him on when the workload got to him and assuring him that everything would be okay in the end, even when he was exhausted from all his extracurricular activities and volunteering. Chenle seriously seemed like he would work himself to death.

You never really fully processed what him being passionate about his future would mean for you, and how it would affect your relationship and friendship with him. You didn’t even know that he applied to universities at all (since he didn’t tell you and you were kind of oblivious, to be honest), let alone which ones he strived for.

Fast forward to the present, it was currently the middle of November and school was going full swing, your senior year of high school passing by like a breeze. You were currently hanging out with Donghyuck, who was in town for the weekend from his university in the next city over. It was always nice to see him, his presence always putting a smile on your face.

You both sat at a window seat in the middle of a fairly busy restaurant, joking with each other and picking at your food lightly as you conversed. It grew silent for a moment, your chuckles dying down from some stupid attempt at a joke by Hyuck, before he broke it.

“Did you hear that Chenle got into Harvard?” Donghyuck absentmindedly spoke quietly, picking at the salad seated in front of him on the restaurant table. “Full fucking ride.” He didn’t even look up to meet your now bulging eyes.

Your blood ran ice cold as your heart began to seemingly stop beating, freezing just like your veins.

“He what?” you practically screeched, causing the boy across from you to jump slightly.

Hyuck looked at you then, his cheeks filled with food as he grasped his chest dramatically.

“Uh yeah?” he replied like it was obvious. “He’s really passionate about his career choice, you know.”

“Of course I know!” you shrieked at him, your hands going up to pull at your hair exasperatedly. You chewed your lip, your heart pounding and squeezing in your chest at the notion of Chenle’s inevitable departure from your life. “What, you think I wouldn’t know that the boy I’ve known since I was a LITERAL CHILD, isn’t passionate about his future?!”

Donghyuck was now looking around the both of you, taking notice of the strangers who were now staring at your visibly panicked form.

“Y/N, calm down, please–“

“I’m calm! I’m perfectly fine! ahah,” you chewed on your nails frantically as you tried to quiet your mouth and your mind, your leg shaking nonstop under the table, causing the silverware to shake.

You distracted yourself by looking out the window to your immediate left, trying to watch the people walk by like it was some sort of therapy for your bustling thoughts.

“Why didn’t he tell us he was applying to–“ you cut yourself off quietly, stopping your question short. ”...How does he know already?” you asked, your voice small.

“Early action or some shit, I guess.”

It was quiet for a few minutes between you both; Hyuck continued to munch on his salad and you could feel his eye warily watching you as you chewed your nails to nubs.

“...Are you okay?” he finally questioned, his voice comforting as he pulled you from out of your own head.

“Just,” you bit your lip, your eyes spaced out as you stared down at the floor. “Why couldn’t he have picked a school around here?” Your voice was small and quiet, and you could hear the boy across from you sigh. “Why couldn’t he just do that, like you?”

He didn’t really say anything then, picking up the fact that those were most definitely rhetorical questions. You didn’t touch any more of your food, your stomach tied up in knots, making you feel sick.

“Y/N...”

You didn’t look at him, your face hot with embarrassment from how much pain your heart was actually feeling at the news that Chenle, the boy you have loved for years, would be leaving you.

“He’s really excited about this...you…” he trailed off, trying to pick his next words carefully. “You need to show him some support, even though I know it hurts you.”

You knew that deep down, Hyuck was absolutely right. What kind of friend would you be if you were selfish and kept yourself wrapped up in your own feelings? You sniffled and picked your head back up, finally looking at him.

“You’re right. you are absolutely right.” you finally breathed out, trying to slowly calm your aching anxiety. “Just like always, Hyuck.” You cracked a slight smile then, and he returned it, seeming relieved that you snapped out of your panic, even if it was just a little bit.

“At least you can acknowledge it, angel.” He sent you a wink along with the pet name, and you jokingly gagged, which caused the both of you to laugh.

With the mood seemingly lifted, you were able to enjoy the rest of your time with Donghyuck, even if the anxiety of Chenle leaving was still a heavy presence in the back of your reeling mind.

——

That same night, you laid yourself across your pillows and stared up at the ceiling, not even bothering to change out of your slightly uncomfortable jeans. The lights were on and all was quiet as you laid trapped in your own thoughts, the inevitable scene of your crush of many, many years leaving replaying on loop inside your head.

You tried to distract yourself by working on some miscellaneous homework assignments, trying to get your work done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

You were just getting in the flow of writing a rough draft for an essay when you heard your mother yell up the steps at you.

“Y/N!” she called, startling you. when you replied with a ‘Yeah?’ she continued, “Chenle is here, I’m sending him up!”

Your heart jumped and you quickly shot up from your bed, trying to get rid of any clothes strewn around your floor to at least make your room somewhat presentable. As you slammed the hamper lid shut, you heard a small knock on the door before Chenle let himself in, already beaming at you.

“Y/N, I have some awesome news!” he immediately spoke, shutting the door behind him. You will yourself not to let your heart sink, already knowing what he wanted to share with you he reached behind him to grab his book bag, and once it was in his grasp he set it on the floor, taking a seat beside you on your bed.

You tried not to let your heart race as his shoulder brushed against yours, and you tried to convert up your nerves by giving him a smile in return. Chenle rummaged through his back before angrily grunting, turning to face you.

“I left something at home that I wanted to show you, shit,” he murmured, his hand coming up to swipe over his face. “I can go grab it real quick–“

“Let’s just go to your room, it’s literally right across. We can climb,” you suggested, wanting to escape the suffocating warmth of your own bedroom. Plus, you were always more comfortable sitting on his mattress anyway. “It’ll be fun, like when we were younger.”

You two both grinned at each other then, Chenle nodding his head in compliance as you both stood, preparing yourselves for the leap out of your bedroom window.

You didn’t bother with a jacket; you were only going to be out in the cold for about five minutes tops, anyway. You allowed him to go first, his body jumping out and landing on the roof of your shed with ease. You quickly followed suit, landing a little rough but still in one piece, nonetheless.

He generously offered to prop you up first so you could skillfully open his window from the outside, which you gladly accepted with a smirk on your lips.

“You’re the best at it.” he replied, slightly whining at your smug reaction. “Always have been. For some reason I can never get it open!!”

You ignored him after that, focusing on keeping your balance on his shoulders while you lifted the window open, pulling yourself up on the sill and throwing yourself inside with a dull thud. You heard the scrapings of Chenle making his way up the side of his house, and he toppled in not long after you.

“I’m definitely never doing that again,” he panted, laying flat on his back on the floor for a few moments. You stared back at him from his bed, giggling at his heavily rising and falling chest. “Maybe not never...but not again anytime soon, that’s for sure.”

He managed to pull himself up from the carpet, dusting off his pants and shrugging off his coat before joining you on the bed. He pulled a piece of paper from his nightstand, and your heart began to pound with untamed anxiety.

“This,” he started, his eyes sparkling as he looked at the piece of paper before looking back at you. “is my acceptance letter to Harvard. I got in, Y/N!!!”

Chenle was so excited, and you couldn’t help but swoon at the absolute elation in his eyes as he went on about what he was accepted for and even what the letter said.

You, of course, didn’t tell him that you already knew, courtesy of Donghyuck. If you would have known that Chenle applied to Harvard, you would have had no doubts from the very beginning that he would get in.

Maybe he didn’t tell anyone just in case he wasn’t accepted, and if no one knew then there would be no one to disappoint.

You knew that no matter what, you could never ever be disappointed in Chenle. He was too smart and too good to ever be thought of in that way.

All you could do was smile and smile some more as he went on, barely breathing before he finally took a short pause. His eyes fell down to look at his denim covered legs, and he bit his lip as you watched him in the sudden quiet of his room.

It didn’t last very long, and he took a deep breath before breaking the short silence.

“They want me to fly out there as soon as possible,” he finally spoke, looking up at you from where his gaze was previously on his lap. “I talked to our school, and they’re willing to let me graduate early. I have all my credits, which is really cool.”

Chenle seemed excited, but he spoke softly, as if he knew how hard this news was for you to hear. You surprised yourself at how composed you were acting, despite the jabbing pain you felt in your heart with every word that passed through his lips.

“That’s great,” you commented, a tight smile lining your face, your voice so close to breaking. “When do you leave?”

A question you didn’t really want the answer to. You didn’t want him to leave at all, and gaining the knowledge of a deadline wouldn’t ease your aching heart any.

He shuffled on the bed, pulling his legs up to sit fully on the mattress facing you. He clasped his hands together and sighed, his bleached blonde hair falling into his eyes.

“The end of December, right before new years,” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes trying to gauge your reaction, even though you weren’t really giving him anything to work with.

That was really soon…

“Wait, but that’s before our semester ends—“

“I know.” he cut you off, smiling brightly. “Like I said, the school is alright with this all happening. They’re really happy for me.”

You sighed, nodding in understanding. It was silent for a moment once more between the two of you; only the sounds of distant cars driving down the otherwise quiet street could be heard for a few moments.

“I just want you to know that I’m really happy for you too, Chenle.” you softly spoke, your hand reaching out to boldly cover his own sitting on the bed in front of you. He stared down at your now touching fingers, but didn’t move to pull away from your warmth.

“Thank you,” he smiled, surprising you by taking your hand in his own and squeezing it, taking your contact with each other a step further. “It means a lot coming from you.”

“Does my approval matter to you?” you questioned, not able to keep it from slipping past your lips. His eyebrows quirked up and he tilted his head a little, looking away briefly before making eye contact once again.

“Yeah, I guess it does.” he replied. “I never really thought about it before, but now that you brought it up...it really does, so thank you.”

You stared at each other then, your lips parted and dry, your brain not sure what to say to him in response. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your ears were consumed with the rhythmic beating and blood rushing happening within your own body.

His brown eyes and dyed blonde hair captivated you and your tongue felt like sandpaper inside your mouth. he looked like he was fighting with himself in a way; restricting his body from moving closer to your own as you sat there in the silence of his room. Your body seemed to mechanically move on its own as it scooted closer to him, your fingers tightening around his as you situated yourself against his body, your face now just next to his. His eyes flicked down to your lips before moving back to your wide eyes, and you felt your stomach jump in anticipation.

Before either of you could do anything, a loud bang came from outside of his bedroom door, followed by a yell from his mother.

You sprung away from each other and you immediately shot up from his bed, already sprinting to his open window from which you came in from. Chenle stood as well, looking between you and the locked door that held his mother back.

“I’ll see you at school.” you hurriedly whispered, taking one more glance at his red cheeks before leaping out the window and down onto the grass below.

You climbed your way up to your own open bedroom window, using the shed and throwing yourself inside quickly before shutting it and closing the curtains. Once you were sure everything was locked and the lights were all off, you slammed yourself down onto your mattress, shoved your face into your pillows, and screamed.

——

“Can we go for a walk around the neighborhood? I want to see all the Christmas lights before people start taking them down.” Chenle spoke through the speaker on your phone, his face not in view on the screen as you FaceTimed each other. You heard shuffling on his end as you focused your attention on your laptop screen, mindlessly shopping online for random things to keep your mind off of the fact that Chenle was leaving in just three days.

The few weeks you had with him passed by like a blur, and you both tried to spend as much time together as possible. Between having to spend time with your family and other friends, it wasn’t as much as you would have liked it to have been.

“Yeah, sure.” you mumbled, closing the laptop on your bed with a soft clack. “Meet you outside in fifteen?”

“Make it ten.” he replied with a smile in his voice, before hanging up.

You sighed heavily before putting your coat on, bundling yourself up for the bite of the cold outside. It was bitterly freezing, and you knew without your whole winter ensemble that you wouldn’t be able to feel your fingers within two seconds flat of being out there.

Fumbling with the buttons and zipper on your coat, you managed to make it outside in seven minutes even, meeting him on the sidewalk just down your driveway.

“Wow, not late for once.” he commented, nudging your shoulder as the two of your began to walk in sync down your brightly lit street.

“Knock it off, I can be on time when I try hard enough.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him, a hint of a smile gracing your lips as you began to take in the beautiful lights around you.

Christmas truly was a beautiful time of year; not just for the holiday itself, because not everyone celebrated it obviously, but for the decorations and the sense of home and warmth.

Chenle and yourself both kept relatively quiet as you walked on, only making noise when you wanted to get each other’s attention to point out certain decorations on some houses. It was rather peaceful, and your heart was swelling with warmth in adoration as you looked to admire his face, which was illuminated by the colorful Christmas lights surrounding you.

Your stomach jolted slightly. This may be the last time you see him for a while. You didn’t mean for the intrusive thought of his absence to wiggle its way into your mind, but it was too late to fight it off.

‘I should just confess’, you thought, now nervously picking at your nails, and chewing your lip to bits. ‘There may not be another chance like this, not for a while.’

It was selfish...but it was now or never.

Too shy to actually confess your feelings first—and thinking back to certain moments that you’ve shared with Chenle to come to this conclusion—you decided to take a different approach.

Get him to confess first.

“I need to ask you something,” you blurted out, your brain scolding your mouth silently for being so goddamn reckless in a moment of weakness.

Maybe this was a bad idea...

Chenle quirked his eyebrow up at you before stopping, turning to face you entirely.

“What’s up?” he replied, his hands stuffed deeply in his pockets in a desperate attempt to keep them warm. His nose was red from the chill in the air and his lips were the same shade from him biting them, the sheen of his chapstick almost completely gone now. His eyes were glassy from the wind blowing and even though his cheeks were blotched in crimson, you thought this was the most beautiful he had ever looked.

You couldn’t do this. Fuck, you really couldn’t do this. Why did you have to open your big, stupid mouth—

“Hey Y/N? Are you in there?” he suddenly broke you from your own thoughts, causing you to jump a little in your boots. “What did you wanna ask me?”

“Uh,” Quick, think of something dumb! “You know, why is perfume so damn expensive?”

You wanted to throw yourself into a frozen lake at this point, as you watched his brow furrow in confusion.

“Uhm, I don’t know,” he bit his lip for about the hundredth time since you started your walk. “Ingredients maybe? Higher end perfumes probably have stuff in them that are more hard to come by, so that’s probably wh—“

“Do you like me?” you interrupted him loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as you practically belted out your original question.

He seemingly froze in front of you, and definitely not from the cold air whipping around your bodies as the wind harshly blew.

“Do I...like you.” he repeated back, formed as a statement more than a question. “Like...as in romantically?”

You didn’t even have to nod for him to know what you meant; the look in your eyes told him enough. The pleading, glassy look as hope swirled beneath your irises, just absolutely begging him to say that yes, he did like you in the way that you liked him.

“Yes,” you confirmed audibly anyway, heat flickering throughout your entire face. “You know, b-because I think before we almost kissed in your room that one time not too long ago, and we’ve been more touchy lately—“ you would have continued on your panicked rambling if he hadn’t cut you off, beginning to speak solemnly.

“Y/N...I..” he started, shaking his head as he tried to get his thoughts straight. “I do. I really do,” your heart jumped at his confession, and you allowed it to spread in your body like wildfire. It didn’t get very far, because he continued to speak. “but I...I can’t.”

You visibly deflated; your heart shattered like glass and everything colorful around you seemed to fade into a greyscale, the holiday lights surrounding the two of you no longer sparking any kind of joy. “This scholarship...my future...it’s important to me. I can’t let anything stop me, I’m so sorry…”

“Chenle...” you whimpered, stepping closer to him boldly, unsure of how to properly express your feelings to him at this point. You dared to breach his personal space, and he watched your every move with those same, glossy brown eyes that you adored every day for so many years.

You tilted your head, your lips ghosting over his own as he let out shaky breaths, yours matching his as you stood together in the cold.

His lips were right there. unmoving, as he didn’t pull away from you. If your leaned forward just a little more...almost….almostalmostalmost—so close—

“Y/N, stop.” he suddenly muttered, pulling you out of your trance. His head drew back as he stepped away, still in your reach but far enough to where your lips weren’t brushing against each other’s anymore.

You gritted your teeth at the rejected feeling that bubbles up inside you, the tears welling your eyes before spilling hotly down your frozen cheeks.

“I love you, Chenle.” you cried, gripping the rough material of his jean jacket. The darkness of the night could have hidden your tears if it weren’t for the moonlight blaring down on the two of you like a spotlight. “Please, I love you.”

He looked like he was trying to hold himself together, his lips set in a straight line as he looked away from you, his hands hovering over your wrists. Chenle gripped them suddenly, not hard, but with enough force to get you to pay attention.

“I love you too, Y/N.” he finally admitted, his voice quiet as he tried to restrain his emotions. “But I can’t pass this up. I just can’t.”

You should have forced yourself to understand. This was his life, for fucks sake. You shouldn’t have let yourself feel selfish, thinking that he would drop everything to stay here. With you.

“We can’t be together. I’m sorry.” he finished with that, slowly dropping your wrists from his hold. “If I…” he swallowed thickly. “If I let you kiss me, I know I wouldn’t be able to leave. I know it.”

He took in your figure at last, watching as your tears fell freely from your eyes in hot rivers down your already stained cheeks.

“Look, maybe someday this would work...but just, not now.” he sounded exasperated, running a hand through his hair. “Your life is here, and my life will be starting there. I’ll be busy constantly and it just...won’t be fair. It really won’t, you have to understand, Y/N.”

He watched as your hands shook when you lifted them to wipe your face, solemnly nodding in acknowledgement to his words.

“Okay.” you croaked, not meeting his eyes as you turned to walk away, leaving him in the middle of the park you used to play at when you were kids.

You weren’t going to put up a fight. You weren’t going to plead with him anymore. You were going to try your absolute hardest to stop yourself from being selfish in that way.

You were just going to have to live with that fact that you couldn’t have him right now. That you almost could have had him.

Almost.

——

Chenle faded out of your life like he wasn’t even present in the first place. You barely heard from him after he left; there would be miscellaneous texts here and there but overall, he was right in the end. He was really always busy.

His school workload was heavy, and you were aware of that, but a selfish part of you always seemed to get angry at him for not responding to you.

The worst part was not knowing whether he wanted to reach out to you at all.

He didn’t come home during summer break, which broke your heart a little bit. Donghyuck tried his best to be there for you as you went through the motions; you were constantly miserable at the reality that you most likely would never call Chenle your own.

Chenle didn’t keep in contact much with Hyuck or Jisung either, seemingly leaving you all in the dust as he went about his new life away from you. His parents talked to him all the time obviously, and your own mother would dawdle on about something that Chenle achieved at school to you, but you’ve come to pretty much ignore everything that had to do with him.

You went about getting your own education, passing your classes by the skin of your teeth during the first semester and then producing the same results during the semester after that.

You really couldn’t blame yourself for feeling so utterly heartbroken; you were in love with that boy for most of your life, and for him to suddenly rip himself away from you like that was wholeheartedly agonizing.

Chenle rarely ever came home; he did briefly for Christmas, but then hurriedly left immediately after, not even staying for the full duration of his break.

You actually ran into him by accident one day while he was still home, but you didn’t stay in his presence very long before wanting to go to the safety of your bedroom and cry.

“Did you even miss me?” you whimpered out, exhausted after your small talk had turned into a bit of an argument. He sighed heavily, frustrated no doubt. you could hear it in his voice as he spoke to you.

“What do you want me say, Y/N?” he countered, scoffing at you as you held back the pain you felt burning behind your eyes, desperate to cry. “I haven’t even had the time to miss anyone, let alone you.”

You stood in silence for a moment, baffled at his dismissive attitude of it all. It’s like he didn’t even remember that he told you he liked you too all those months ago.

“You...” your voice cracked a little, and you looked away from him. “Did you even try, Chenle? Did you even try to find the time to talk to me?”

He didn’t say anything back, only staring at you before tearing his eyes away, his jaw locked. You felt as if you already knew the answer.

You turned to leave, but felt his hand immediately circle around your arm, roughly pulling you back to face him. Taking one look at his face, you knew he was angry.

“Do you know how much it hurt, Y/N?” he barked out, making you flinch back slightly. “Do you know how much it hurt to leave you? I–“ he cut himself off as his voice cracked, turning his head away and swallowing heavily before continuing. “I wanted to, so bad Y/N. You have no idea.”

Your lips parted in shock, and you had a million things you wanted to say, but you managed to keep it all inside as he went on.

“But I had to control myself. I already came to terms with the fact that this,” he gestured between the two of you, “wasn't going to ever work out. I figured that out a long time ago... I had to distance myself from you, I’m sorry.”

You really didn’t want to accept that apology. You really really didn’t. Your anger was swirling inside you, a typhoon of emotions building and building as you stared back into his now cold brown eyes. To you, they used to be so full of warmth and friendliness, and now they looked distant and unentertained, like he didn’t want to be here in the first place.

That hurt like a bitch.

You scoffed at him, making his eyebrows raise in confusion before they furrowed, his eyes narrowed at you.

Yeah, you were probably being a bitch for not accepting his apology, and all of this was turning out to be super petty, but you felt like he deserved it just a little bit.

Deep down you knew he had a point; his reasoning was valid and it all made sense, but when did having feelings for someone like you had for him ever lead to rational decision making?

“You know, Chenle,” you started, shoving your hands in your pockets roughly to shield them from the cold. “I really thought that we could still be friends after all the bullshit, I really did.” He watched you carefully as you practically spat forth those words, venom dripping in your tone. “But then you went and messed it all up.”

You probably shouldn’t have added that last part; playing the blame game never worked in anyone’s favor in the end, but your emotions once again got the best of you.

Smoke practically blew out his ears as his mouth parted in shock. Your heart dropped when you heard the sound of sarcastic laughter falling out of his mouth, knowing full well that you fucked up this time.

“I messed it up? Me??” He was pointing to his own chest for emphasis, and you had the audacity to give him a quick nod. “Ahah, wow Y/N, that’s really rich coming from you.”

You didn’t even have a second to get a word in before he crowded your space, so close that your chests were touching. You drew in a sharp breath, not sure what in the hell he was doing right now.

“You were the one that was practically begging me to kiss you that night, remember? You were trying so hard,” he spat, so close to your face now that you couldn’t even feel the cold nipping at your cheeks anymore (whether it be from the embarrassment lacing through your veins or the extensive heat from his body, you weren’t sure).

You couldn’t think of anything to say in response; all you knew was that he was dishing out pretty low blows, and each word was like a knife being plunged into your chest.

“Like, how desperate are you?” he added in, now moving his hands to grip your waist, making you squeak in surprise. “You want a kiss so bad? Get fucking ready.”

You weren’t sure what he meant and your brain was having such a hard time comprehending anything going on in that moment, the pressure of his hands gripping your waist making all thoughts fly out of your head besides one.

Him.

“Wait, Chenle–“ you placed a hand on his chest to try to push him away, unsure of how you felt about this situation.

“What, you don’t want it now?” his voice was borderline malicious as he spoke to you now, making you feel incredibly small and vulnerable under his gaze.

“No I–“

“You come to me and give me all that bullshit, and now when I’m trying to give you something that you wanted,” his grip grew tighter. “you don’t want it anymore? Make up your damn mind, Y/N.”

You did want it. There was still a huge part of you that screamed at you to just let it happen, but you knew it would be wrong. So fucking wrong. He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to; he was doing this because he wanted all this to end right here.

You were scared. He was scaring you with the way he was acting right now.

“Chenle, please—“

“Just shut up.”

Chenle didn’t allow you to get another word in before he crashed his lips against yours, roughly pressing his against your own so abruptly that you felt your teeth pierce the inside of yours. You tasted blood, but it wasn’t the first thing on your mind at the moment; Chenle moved his mouth against yours aggressively and without any emotion besides anger behind it, and you absolutely hated it.

Sure, it felt nice to finally get what you wanted, but in a way, you definitely were not. This isn’t what you wanted at all. You wanted to love him and you wanted him to love you...and you wanted it to feel nice.

His hands slid down to your hips and your stomach jumped in surprise as you tried desperately to match his pace to at least kiss him back a little bit. It didn’t last long, and with a strong push on your hips he effectively pulled away, your body stumbling back from the force of his shove.

His lips were red and puffy and his eyes were dark as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, panting slightly. You probably looked somewhat the same, but didn’t even move from where you stood as he stared at you. You felt your eyes become glassy from staring into space too long, and you felt your hands shake, but most definitely not from the cold.

“There’s your fucking kiss.” He finally said, taking two steps back. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

You didn’t even watch him walk back into his house. You ran as fast as you could back into your own home and immediately slammed the front door shut behind you, darting up the stairs without a single word.

You barged into your bedroom and without even removing your winter garments, you threw yourself down onto your mattress for what seemed like the millionth time in the last year, and began to sob.

——

Chenle’s parents said that he had commitments at the school, some sort of research or whatever, and that’s why he couldn’t stay home long. At the time, all you really thought was ‘good riddance’, but you knew that your heart would be back to obsessing over him in no time, even after what had happened between the two of you on the day you try so hard not to remember.

Well, at least he was flourishing at school.

When Donghyuck found out what had happened between you and Chenle during the time he was home from university, he was ready to kill someone. That someone being Chenle.

“He did what to you?!” Donghyuck screamed over the phone, causing you to pull it from your ear from the sheer volume of his screeching. “I’ll kill him, Y/N. I swear I’ll fucking kill that kid.”

“No need, Hyuckie. It’s not that big of a deal.” you replied somberly, sighing as you relaxed on your mattress against your pillows.

“Not a big deal??? Angel, he basically forced that shit on you,” Hyuck was speaking softly to you now, a stark contrast to his yelling from a few moments prior. “You should be furious at him. You need to tell someone—“

“I’m not mad,” you replied quietly, chewing on your bottom lip. “A part of me wanted that to happen, Hyuck. It just…” your voice trailed off, your brain trying to think of the right words to say. “Wasn’t what I was expecting, is all.”

The line was quiet and you weren’t sure what to say next, and Donghyuck must have felt the same. It was a really fucked up situation, you had to admit.

“I think I…” your voice sounded broken, but you continued. “I think I still love him.” The words came out as a whisper and they surprised even yourself, not expecting to admit such a thing after all that has happened.

“Oh, angel…” was all Donghyuck replied with before you quickly made up some lame excuse to hang up the call with him. You hurriedly pressed the ‘end call’ button and threw yourself back on the bed, spacing out once again just like you always do.

You managed to bear with not seeing or talking to Chenle after the incident (a huge part of you didn’t want to, after hearing what he had to say and also what he did during Christmas break), but when you stumbled across a post of his one night a couple months after while scrolling through Instagram, it had your heart shattering completely.

“What the fuck,” you whimpered, already struggling to hold back tears as your watery eyes stared daggers at the photo displayed on your screen. “What. The. Fuck?” you said it louder this time, with more malice, and you threw your phone across your bed to get it away from you.

Chenle had posted a photo of himself and another girl, kissing each other while snow fell in some random park you didn’t give a fuck about. He found someone else. He fell for someone else.

The hypocrisy.....he didn’t want to be with you because he wanted to focus on school, but then he goes and starts up a relationship with someone else anyway?

Maybe he did it to spite you.

At first, you felt pathetic for crying about it. You tried to muffle your cries in your pillow, holding back the ugly sobs that you so desperately wanted to let out. You silently cried, your heart aching and your lungs gasping for air as you fought the pain in the dark pit inside your chest.

You began to grow angry after a while, your thoughts spinning wildly out of control as your chest heaved, your nails digging into your sheets to keep yourself from clawing at your own burning throat.

You screamed.

You screamed and screamed and cried until there was nothing left inside you. You needed to let out the festering hatred you had grown for him since he left over a year ago. It was ugly and it was cacophonous, but you didn’t care anymore.

Your parents were luckily out, and you didn’t give a fuck about your neighbors. You poured out every raw emotion you felt until you sensed yourself beginning to calm; your chest no longer rose and fell like you had been running a marathon, your heartbeat quieted to a low thrum in your ears instead of a pounding drum, and your muscles relaxed, allowing you to lie down flat against your mattress.

Your pillow was soaked through with tears and your head was thumping, like your brain was smashing a baseball bat to the inside of your skull. You breathed in, five long seconds, and breathed out, seven seconds more, before bathing in the quiet of your room.

Your phoned buzzed from the end of your bed, and you hesitantly picked your head up, sliding to sit and reach for it tentatively.

It was a text message.

From: donghyuckie :P

hey, saw chenle’s post. ice cream in 20? I’ll pick you up

You smiled, surprising yourself entirely, as if you weren’t just screaming your head off just five minutes ago. You were incredibly happy to have such a good friend in your life, immediately knowing what you needed when you needed it. You were quick to reply.

To: donghyuckie :P

sounds good, I’ll see you then :)

You smiled again, and didn’t stop the whole night, Donghyuck's presence always comforting and joyful.

You would be okay, you knew you would. All you had to do was just live your own life, forget about Chenle, and be happy...always with a smile.

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #neothestars #nctcreations #nct: almost #chenle #zhong chenle #nct #nct dream #chenle angst #chenle scenarios #nct angst #nct dream angst #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #idk how to tag shjsjs #chenle fanfic #???#chenle x reader

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kienava · 3 years

Text

Randivor has me by the throat and won’t let go. Romance-heavy smut under the cut.

_______

Everything Else

_______

Eivor couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a sound she often heard coming from herself outside of mead-soaked feasts or on the heels of a successful raid. Even then, in halls filled with drunken friends and by riverbeds lined with fallen enemies, there was always an air of performance, a twinge of bold, fanged cruelty that came from victory.

Not tonight, though. Not with Randvi.

Their bedchamber was not a raised stage or a proving ground. There was no performance to be put on here.

Randvi’s touch was sharp, precise as a whetted blade splitting flesh. Where no blood spilled, a more delicate sensation lingered on Eivor’s scars. With muscles spent and nerves singed by a rush not unlike the storm of battle, Eivor could only gaze up at the ceiling. And laugh.

“What is it, my love?”

Eivor would never tire of this. Odin’s halls of glory were nothing to the glow of Randvi’s skin.

“Look up,” Eivor said. She pointed lazily. “There’s a face in the wood.”

Randvi settled the hand that had been tracing a tattoo on Eivor’s bare hip. Her palm burned against it as an ember.

“A face?” Randvi said, skeptical.

“Look,” Eivor repeated.

Careful to keep her head where it was on Eivor’s chest, Randvi glanced up. “Where?”

“Right above us. See the eyes and the mouth?”

“Is it meant to be frowning?”

“Hm. It does look displeased. I’m afraid I cannot empathize.”

Randvi pushed herself up on one elbow, taking her warmth with her. She stared down at Eivor, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. It was a familiar expression, one she could not resist making whenever Eivor arbitrated a ridiculous quarrel with a perfectly straight face. “Have you not noticed this face before?”

The dregs of a laugh caught in Eivor’s chest, rumbling deep and pleasant. “Sleeping in my own bed used to be more a privilege than an expectation.”

“Hm...” Randvi’s fingers trailed up to Eivor’s ribs. “Maybe you’re just spending more time on your back nowadays.”

Eivor’s breaking grin was interrupted swiftly. Randvi kissed her, long and full, the heat of her skin enough to melt tension that was already hours since dissolved.

“I am hardly opposed,” Eivor muttered.

Randvi’s hands betrayed no hurry - Ravensthorpe was well-stocked, thanks to recent river raids, and the Ostara Festival was coming to a close. Everyone was happy and drunk, off dancing until the sun came up and telling stories.

“Have you not had your fill for one night?” Eivor teased.

“We have many nights to make up for, darling.” Randvi’s mouth landed on the scarred line of Eivor’s throat. It was as a feather, tickling and tantalizing. “And I would expect Ravensthorpe's prized drengr to have more stamina.”

“Sweetness and salt, all at once,” Eivor prodded, head lolling back on a rumpled pillow. “You are a difficult woman to argue with.”

“Good.”

The woman with the wildling soul was pleased to reclaim her own freedoms. Time for exploration was something she treasured, she was already well-versed in traveling south.

Her gaze burned from between Eivor’s legs, twin blue flames as if the sky itself were alight. Eivor could let it consume her, she thought, and die breathless and content.

Randvi could hold her own in any fight, but she needed no blade to take a warrior apart.

When a shiver struck and made Eivor’s legs quake, Randvi did not miss it. “Who would have guessed the great Eivor Wolf-Kissed would fall to such a lightness?”

It was unusual, compared to how it had been with others. Strength was Eivor’s native language, something to strive for and admire. She’d always met opponents and lovers with the same shows of force.

But never Randvi. Hers was not an arena where power was proven with dominance.

Where drengrs roared and raised their fists, Randvi’s voice and hands were soft. Battles chewed steel and shattered bone, but this was a quiet and sure balm to the most harrowing of wounds unseen.

How amusing that Eivor knew she had wanted this for so long, yet she never minded when Randvi took her time.

Between gasps, Eivor asked, “Tell me - Randvi - when did you know?”

Randvi shifted as water, fingers flowing to where her mouth had barely left. “I know many things. You'll have to be more specific.” Her lips pressed together, shining into a smirk.

Eivor managed to think her question into form. “When did you know you wanted this?”

As the moon commanding a ruthlessly gentle tide, Randvi’s assured smile waned into softness. “I’ve always known, Eivor. Since the first moment I saw you. So hardened, so fierce. I wished to know what was underneath it all.”

“Oh? And so you - ah.” Bold to try and taunt from such a compromised and vulnerable position, but Eivor did not relent. “So you always wished to be as a dagger... to my sheath?”

Randvi paused - a warning. She sat upright, but her fingers remained still.

The way she regarded Eivor, as a wolf might a sheep - it sent sparks up the taut column of the sheep’s spine.

“A wise woman can make use of any tool, I think,” Randvi said finally. She knew she’d won the point even before her fingers dipped and curled, a flourish as graceful as a spinning silver sword.

Eivor’s back arched, and she was as a sheath, seeking. She conceded, “And wise you are.”

Fortunately, Randvi loved hearing such things, especially from Eivor, and it was a sure way to bring out a sly grin that thinly shielded a deceptively fragile part of her heart. If there was one thing Randvi deserved, it was praise. She’d gone unappreciated for too long - even a moment was a sin - and yet she never shied from her post at the heart of their town. It would never have become more than a pile of bricks and stray ships without her guidance.

“The oldest trees must envy you,” Eivor went on.

“Must they?”

Eivor would not have the chance to say more if Randvi was allowed to continue, the waves building. So Eivor sat up to see her face-to-face, pulling her into a narrow straddle and kissing her, first on the forehead.

“For all their years, you are sager,” Eivor said.

She took Randvi’s hand to her lips and kissed her palm.

“For all their strength, you hold firmer. And for all their roots,” one last lingering kiss over her heart, beating wild, sealed by the same steady, guided palm, “yours run deeper.”

Randvi said nothing for a moment, her expression one of pure, quiet awe. Then, she shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on Eivor’s. “Your poet’s soul is a dangerous thing.”

Eivor took her by the waist, revering the way she could look up at this woman who put the staunchest, most resilient trees to shame. “Even so, when the possessor is in truth the one possessed?”

“Especially then, you minx.” Randvi bumped their noses together, a novel gesture that Eivor was suddenly very fond of.

“I am afraid I cannot offer an apology.”

Randvi was the one to initiate their next kiss, though it was as fleeting as a bird over a river. “It is a beautiful thing, my love. I would accept no apology for it.” Her voice grew stern as she continued. “But nor do I possess the possessor in question.”

Eivor needed only gesture to their position. “Ah, but you do have me, do you not?”

“Cheeky,” Randvi chastised. She poked the side of Eivor’s face for good measure, and her touch trailed down to the jaw. “If that is the frame, then you are mine only insofar as you are your own.”

“Then I am yours - and my own, and the Raven’s - entirely.”

Randvi hummed, considering this, playfully cryptic.

“Do you find these terms of alliance agreeable?” Eivor joked.

“Ah, is this how you made us so many friends?”

“Well, these Saxons are less stubborn with their bellies full of mead and their mouths full of--”

With a kiss, Randvi cut her off and confirmed their jest of a treaty.

“I have made but one pledge in this way,” Eivor said for the sake of clarity. “And it is to the woman I call my wife.”

Randvi would have embraced her again and sent them both toppling onto the bed furs, but Eivor held her rooted in place.

Eivor’s hand snuck between them, finding its purchase as Randvi settled and relaxed against honed callouses. She had no qualms with the roughness - quite the opposite, actually. They built a pace together, painstaking, but with all of agony’s antonyms. Randvi’s breaths came faster, shallower, as she clung to the unwound remnants of Eivor’s dark braids and a shaky imitation of control.

“I must ask you,” Randvi exhaled all at once.

“Anything,” Eivor interrupted.

“Tell me when you knew.”

“That is not a question.”

Randvi nipped at Eivor's neck - not wolf-kissed, this time, but something close. “Petulant.”

“When did I know, or when did the gods know?” Eivor asked. Rarely did she have such a perfect set of conditions to toy with the greatest strategist the snows had ever produced.

“Either. Both,” Randvi managed.

“I cannot speak for the gods.”

Randvi grasped at the smooth muscle of Eivor’s back, blunt nails scraping across the flat planes of her shoulder blades. Her breath came hot against Eivor’s ear, along with her next words: “When did you know you loved me?”

The drengr’s iron resolve to taunt and pester shattered, armor falling away to reveal the poet’s vulnerable heart.

“I must be honest, you were the faster study between us, Randvi,” Eivor began. “I could not name the thing that pulled me to you, even when it was like a vine around my marrow, so ingrained that I could not walk without feeling its tug.”

“More,” Randvi said. “Tell me more.”

“Everywhere I went, I heard the flowers sing of your beauty. The trees whispered about your wisdom. Great dark clouds and lightning proclaimed your unwavering strength and loyalty to all those you care for.”

Randvi said no words, but she was not quiet.

“And these were pieces, pieces - only fractured shards of a reflection.”

“Eivor...”

“I did not realize they were my own heart-thoughts the world had given voice...”

A barely stifled moan.

“Until the wind itself called me back to you.”

With that, a broken groan slipped from Randvi’s throat and her rigid fingers dug in, bruising, driven by the sheer desperation for release. Her purgatory lasted, fueled by a merciless hand, until - “Eivor!” - less a name than a surrender to catharsis.

Eivor was braced for the collapse, easily keeping Randvi from falling limp into their bed. Somewhere in Eivor’s mind, there was a witty crack brewing about stamina and poetry and how’s that for wisdom, but the peaceful flow of Randvi’s breathing as it steadied and deepened was too lovely to cut short.

Eventually, Randvi righted herself, every inch of her covered in a fresh, fine dew.

“And you thought I was fierce,” Eivor said. She started to brush a piece of sweat-stuck hair from Randvi’s forehead, but the distance between them vanished quickly.

Randvi was not capable of sloppiness in anything she did, but this - crashing their mouths together while still working to catch her own inhales - was the closest she ever came. “I stand by it,” Randvi sighed as she rested her forehead against Eivor’s.

“I’ve thought of another question for you,” said Eivor.

“Hm?”

“Are you trying to wake the whole town?”

Randvi’s laugh was a delicate wisp, but not lacking bite. “And just how many times have you cried my name tonight?”

“You assume I can count that high?”

“If either of us wakes the town tonight, it will be you, my love.” Her thumb stroked the sharp corner of Eivor’s jaw before another promising kiss. “And that is as much a threat as it is a vow.”

“So be it,” Eivor said, lying back, arms splayed freely by her head. “Let them know for whom their jarlskona bends the knee.”

***

[cross-posted on AO3]

#randivor #randvi x eivor #eivor x randvi #randivor fic #assassin's creed valhalla #acv #my writing #valhalla #if you saw me take this down and then repost it no you didn't<3 #asscreed

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bangteen · 4 years

Text

Imperfect | Wong Yukhei

↬ Summary: Everyone thought Lucas would fall in love with someone young, someone beautiful. He fell for you, but why was it so hard to believe?

↬ Genre: fluff, angst

↬ Warnings: some bullying

↬ Word count: 1.4k

↬ Requested: yes, by @writtensincerely 💕

Lucas was everything almost any girl could ask for in a guy. He was tall, handsome, funny, talented, kind, honest, loyal… and you were one of the many who quickly fell for his charms.

You knew him better than anyone, having been his best friend since you were both very young. You were a year older than him, and he was like a younger brother to you. You got to see the sides of him that not every person could: what he was like when he was angry and sad, frustrated; what he was like when he was tired or stressed; what he was like when he cried and was vulnerable; you experienced it all. You witnessed the beauty of his character, and even despite his flaws—even despite being his best friend—you still fell for him.

⬖

It was an average day with the least expectation of something special to occur. No one expected the large commotion of girls filling the classrooms and reaching the hallways at school. No one expected Lucas to have confessed to you in front of the crowd of people as he had you backed against your locker. In that moment, you were visibly taken aback, and he quickly took your hand in his before running out of the school with you and to somewhere more secluded and private. You don’t know how you arrived there, but somehow that secret place ended up being the school’s rooftop, empty and quiet.

Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was how much he cared for you, but the incident where he had confessed to you just minutes before was to protect you. Just moments before he found you and had you pressed against your locker, one of his so called, ‘fangirls’, was bullying you again. It was a common occurrence for you. Girls at school weren’t very fond of other girls who were close friends with one of the most liked and popular guys at school.

The argument between you and the girl involved words about you and Lucas, and you had done everything to protect and defend him, telling her not to bring him into the conversation if it had nothing to do with him. The argument was quick to evolve into something physical, involving pushing and slapping.

Lucas quickly found you as a crowd had already formed, immediately pulling out their phones to film you both. Lucas quickly intervened without hesitation. He pushed the other girl off of you and pulled you behind him in a protective manner. He sent a harsh glare her way, his eyes filled nothing but anger towards the girl before he turned back around to face you, his features immediately, visibly softening.

“You’re such a disappointment. You can’t even fend for yourself without someone to save you,” the girl told you before she scoffed.

“I d—“

“So what if I happened to save her? Is it so wrong? You were bullying her, and I can bet at least some of the words that left your mouth, aimed towards her, involved me,” Lucas cut in, arguing back and defending you. “She’s not the one at fault here. You are.”

“What is it with you and her? What, do you love her or something?” She laughed bitterly.

“Funny you say that, because that was exactly what I came here to do.”

He turned around to face you again, at the same time, quickly pushing you against your locker, making sure to be gentle with you, not harming you in the process. His face was inches from yours as he spoke, “I like you, Y/N. Actually no, I take that back. I love you, Y/N. And though I don’t deserve someone as incredible as you, I can’t stop these feelings that I feel for you everyday.”

Gasps left the lips of the crowd around you. As Lucas’s sentence began to trail off, his eyes fell to your lips. He slowly leaned in, and when his lips brushed yours, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back. Your eyes were wide and filled with shock and confusion. The corners of his lips pulled up slightly into a smirk. His hand intertwined with yours before pulling you away with him, transitioning into a run.

That was how you found yourself here on the rooftop with Lucas. You two stood close, leaning on the ledge of the building.

“Why would you do that, Lucas?” You broke the uncomfortable silence, your voice filled with disbelief and disappointment.

Throughout your lives, you both went through many hardships, but you were always there for each other, You were his comfort when he longed for it most, and he had always loved and appreciated you for it.

“Hello?” You waved a hand in front of his face, successfully bringing him back to reality. “Why do you like me?”

He gave you a small smile before speaking, “is it so wrong to like you?”

You stood there, staring at him, unable to form any words for a moment before you responded, “you can’t date someone like me. You’re too good for me. What will people think of me if I started dating you? It’s already a mess as it is, but dating? I can’t, Lucas. I’m not young and pretty like all the other girls at this school. There’s so many beautiful, smart people here. Why did you fall for me?”

You looked down with an evident frown on your lips, causing Lucas’s eyebrows to furrow in concern.

“It’s not against the rules to like you. I don’t want to have to live up to other people’s expectations. I love you and no one else. You are young and beautiful, and I love everything about you. Nobody should decide who I get to like and who I get to date,” he paused, biting his bottom lip before letting out a sigh. “I’m so sorry if I ruined our friendship, and I understand if you don’t like me back.”

Though his body faced you, his eyes wandered everywhere but to yours. You noticed his fingers fidget with each other, scratching at the skin near his nails, something you knew he would do when he was nervous, a habit very few people noticed about him.

“I do like you back,” you said, the words leaving your lips softly.

His eyes darted up towards you and went wide as yours began to now drift off to anywhere but his.

“You like me back?” He asked, shocked.

You closed your eyes, covered your face with your hands, and bit your bottom lip in attempts to hide your smile as you slowly nodded. He brushed your hair behind your ear, and as he did, his attention went to the blood that had risen, making your ears appear red. This was something he noticed about you whenever you were embarrassed, and he was the only one who knew that about you.

He smiled before pulling his lips into a thin line, still full of happiness as you were still facing away from him. Full of joy and relief, he began walking in circles behind you where you wouldn’t see him as he began doing small silent cheers with his fists. He jumped on the spot happily before running to you and wrapping his arms around you from behind. He rested his head on yours, pulling you even closer. You relaxed under his warm touch and looked into his eyes, turning around to face him. That same familiar smile was still on his lips, and you immediately returned it. He pulled you closer in his arms as your head rested against his firm chest. Everything felt right in that moment. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

If there was anyone at this school who didn’t care about age in a relationship, it was Lucas. To him, it was about the inside, and everything about you was perfect to him. He was grateful to have you in his life, someone who knew him better than anyone, someone who knew how to comfort him when he was upset or drained, someone who he loved and got along with perfectly. You were someone who pushed him to be brave, to go for the things he strived for in life. Without knowing, you were the one who gave him courage to go after you, and today, you were finally his.

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hpdabbles · 4 years

Text

Flower Language

Alphard Black is the white sheep in a black wool herd that he called his family. He knows the saying is “the black sheep of the family” but everyone in the family were odd, so hence he was the only white one since he was the only normal one.

In his personal opinion at least.

He just couldn’t come to understand their point of view. Not really.

Every since he was a child, he was vastly different from his parents and his two siblings. His many cousins joked all the time, claiming he had always been a bit a odd due to being born underneath a full moon at midnight, which caused the star he was named after to shine in the wrong way.

He doesn’t thinks he’s odd because he does not like hurting people, physically, emotionally or otherwise. His family lived on making the weak feel weaker, the poor feel poorer and the rush of lashing out with words or wands. They saw it as normal, he did not.

Despite not agree with them, he never really fought against them either. He didn’t like confrontation. He choose to stay quite and to watch, he tried not to get attention onto himself by being the one wallflower in the family. He learn to just be bland enough his relatives lost interest in him while firm and aristocratic to those outside the family.

He didn’t want pure blood high society to think they could walk over him nor did he want to shame his upbringing, because while he didn’t agree with them, he was still a Black and they had dignity that came with the status.

He was perfectly forgettable, keeping above average grades that gave him a invention to the slug club but nothing to make friends with. He didn’t stand out in any class beside Herbology, where half the green houses were striving with his special touch. At the Slytherin table he wasn’t alone, but he wasn’t included either.

Just a face among the masses.

If Alphard entered the room mostly people would look over him along with the furniture if he keep still long enough.

He liked it that way.

Alphard planned on staying that way, moving to France after Hogwarts maybe start a garden for potion ingredients and fade into obscurity. His sister was set to marry Orion, become the Lady of the House of Black, while his younger brother had been entered in a engagement with the Rosier House and was well on his way to make waves in the Slytherin house. He wanted to go into the Ministry, chasing some chair or another.

Alphard wanted to have dirt underneath his finger nails, the quite of the country said and the the lack of passive aggressive remarks at every family get together. He wanted children, because he adore them, the bright shine and carefree wonder they saw the world and the he secretly always wanted to be a dotting father, the kind he wishes his own father would be.

Read them bedtime stories, cuddle with them on the couch, play make believe tea parties, ride brooms in the afternoon, tuck them in and hold them when they had nightmares. Just, be a dad.

But he couldn’t seem himself married, as no one had ever peek his interest, even if he knew it was only males that caught his slight attention, fizzing out before the attraction truly began, so he doesn’t believe he will ever get that. Blood adoption is a process only married couples can go through, and he knows his family would never stand for regular adoption. It wasn’t worth the head ache fighting them over it.

His parents tried, of course they did, it was tradition for Purebloods to build a marriage portfolio around a wizard’s or witch’s fifteen birthday. It is a application on a special parchment said to be created by Merlin himself, that would not allow lies to be written, in a effort to make sure the magical abilities of possible children really would be the beat they could be.

This meant that everything else is truthful as well including the sexuality, which had a large role in making sure the child produced by the couple could be a squib since the Pureblood’s magic would not pass on willingly. If a wizard was force into a marriage with a witch when he didn’t fancy them then his magic would simply stop.

A Pureblood worst nightmare.

The marriage portfolio would be finished on the crust of the their birthday and sent out to every pureblood house at the end of every month along side the other wizards or witches that were still looking for partners.

Alphard always thought it felt like it is more of magazine subscription then a life long decision but he kept those thoughts to himself.

If a house found a portfolio they liked they would send a courtship request to the house the child came from. From there weeks of going back and forth of what the couple life would be like- such as housing, children, benefits each family brought to the table- until one side requested a engagement.

Once both sides agreed- usually between the parents only- they would be engaged and web on both parties seventeen birthdays but no one picked up Alphard’s marriage portfolio from the piles each month.

No one was interested. It hurt sometimes to listen to parents sigh as yet again the other wizards who fancied wizards didn’t want to fancy him. Didn’t even want to have a marriage of circumstance. His parents always received polite but negative answers when they set out a courtship request.

He stop hopping when he turn seventeen.

That why, one morning while he is enjoying a regular breakfast half listening to the fifth year perfect, Riddle, casually give out orders to the Slytherin table about some new Lord, he was stone cold shock when a unknown owl dropped a golden envelope on his plate.

He stares at it, wondering why it’s there. He doesn’t dare pick it up, in fear of the rose gold letters on the other side be address to someone else and this be a cruel prank or a mistake somehow. Alphard doesn’t know what he do if it was.

He plans on hiding it away, wanting to open it in the safety of his room but he can’t bring himself to move his hand and store it away. Around him conversations keep going, no one has noticed anything amiss.

No one sees the golden envelope but him. Alphard swallows, his not sure if it’s excitement or terror in making his stomach flip. Was he dreaming? Was the envelope really golden? Or had he somehow gone colorblind over night?

Unlucky for him Orion- his cousin and soon to be brother in law- turn his head slightly, looking away without interest then snapping his neck back to Alphard. Before he can beg the fifth year the House Heir shouts for all to hear. “Alphard is that a courtship request!?”

The whole table turn too stare at him with the same bewilderment he was feeling. Most alarming of all, was the way Riddle’s mouth snap close, pressing his lips tightly in displeasure for a few seconds before his face smooth out and he hid his displeasure of being ignore.

Alphard didn’t know what it was about the muggle-born but something didn’t feel right about him and he didn’t trust him at all. He was sure that something dark and cruel lived under the friendly mask he wore, because the way he casually cut people down with words and the intense stare he bore couldn’t be from the prince like appearance he kept at all times.

Having Riddle’s attention was dangerous, no matter how much everyone adore him. He wondered why no one else ever notice the danger but then he realized he is the only white sheep in a black herd he called Hogwarts house.

“Alphard! Some one wants to court you! ” Cygnus gasp standing up from the fifth years. His little brother's joyful relief tone is slightly insulting “Some one, actually wants to court you! Goodness, Mother will be overjoyed! Open it! Who is it from!?”

Face growing hot, he fights the urge to hunch his shoulders, knowing it would not seem right from someone from high society. He glances around the room discreetly and bites back a groan when he sees other students have stop to watch as well, even the teachers were smiling fondly staring down at him from the high table.

It’s a common occasion but everyone still loved a good courtship request arrival. It was practically like a proposal. Alphard just wishes it was more private then this.

Taking a calming breath he grabs the envelope, turning it around and only just stopping himself form groaning in relief when he spots his name in pretty rose gold ink.

It really is for him.

Opening the golden envelope with great care, hands nearly unstable with the shaking of his fingers, as they grip the handle of his letter opener, he pulls out the special parchment, the same kind the marriage portfolios are made of.

Quickly he reads over the words written on them as the hall falls into a hush. As his eyes run over the each letter, sincere and kind heart praise of his dreams, likes and dislikes has him wanting to bury his face and hide. He’s never been flirted with before.

It was oddly lovely to have someone flirt with him, sort of made him feel like he was special in a way. Alphard can hear his heart beat echo through the room and he half wonders in moment of mystification if the others can hear it too.

“Alphard?” Cygnus asks voice wavering with worry just a bit “What does it say?”

“A Lord wishes to court me.” Alphard answers face turning redder once he reaches the end. Compliment after compliment for his tiger lilies, were much more effective then calling him gorgeous even if the Lord also stated he is even if the photo of himself had only been included on his parents insistence. “He likes my flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“I added images of my garden to my portfolio. He says...” Blushing more intently and unable to shyly look down at the letter he admits with a slightly gooey voice. “He says I have lovely green thumbs.”

Some cooing is heard from one of the six year girls, the one who knows just how much his green thumb meant to him as she was vice president of the gardening club. He of course, is the president.

“That’s good to hear, he cares about your hobbies” Cygnus says sounding like he couldn’t care one bit. “Which Lord is it?”

The rest of the room lean in waiting for the answer. Who could want the boring Black after all?

Alphard checks the name sighed at the bottom having not read it, after gushing over the last line. These garden photos you’ve included took my breath away, Mr. Black you have such lovely green thumbs.

He nearly swoons once more from reading it.

“A Harry Emrys.” He says then does a double take as the same time the rest of the room does. “Emrys!?”

“The new Lord...” Riddle mumbles. With a jolt Alphard realizes the perfect had just been ordering the rest of the table that only he was allowed to court the Emrys lord. He had swooped in and stolen the last of Merlin’s line right under neath the boy.

His family all break into cheers, while the rest of the hall shout out his congratulations. This was certainly marrying up for him. They all knew it, the new Lord may be young- only a year above them if rumors are belived- but he had the most gold as everyone still used Merlin’s spells and by right of creation payed the Emrys family a small fee, not to mention it was Merlin’s family name.

Alphard looks Riddle calmly eating his bacon around the sudden crowd of people patting him on the back and good naturally teasing him. The fifteen year old didn’t appear bothered but he could spot the rage in his red eyes.

Alphard needed to be careful he didn’t...get a accident in the next couple of days.

“Oh look! He is so handsome!” Sally Parkinson said pulling out a photograph he hadn’t notice from the golden envelope.

The image of a waving man with wild hair and the most gorgeous pair of green eyes underneath a strange lighting scar had Alphard chocking on his spit. Because in one hand he was holding a pot with the most lovely white lilies he’s ever seen. The glowed in tune with the man’s waving meaning they strive on his magic.

He was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

No matter how much it upset Riddle, Alphard wasn’t going to let him steal Harry away from him.

#Harry Potter #hpdabbles #Time travel #Alphard Black Pov #Harry potter changes his name to Harry Emrys #Two flower nerds wanting to run to the country #Tom wanted the power of Merlin's bloodline #Love at first garden compliment.#pureblood politics

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quant-um-fizzx · 5 years

Text

Relenting

Synopsis: James Barnes had always been sweet, until he wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, your mutual attraction took a turn. Now, you can’t tell if he’s playing with you or playing you. Then, fate forces some honesty.

Warnings: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader. Smut, Dub-Con (Sex Pollen, my friends), Language, (some) Angst, elements of stalking & emotional manipulation. Explicit, rough sex, slight anal play. Literally the most dirty talk I’ve ever written.

Word Count: 5900

If you’ve come here expecting the comedy erotica or angst I write elsewhere, this is not for you.

This is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s writing challenge from the prompt: “Just a little more, baby.” (How we got here from there, I’ll never know.)

I’ve labeled this Dark!Bucky, but he’s probably more gray than dark. But not the soft, uses-all-the-bath-salts-when-you’re-out-of-town Bucky I’d consider more canon.

*****

No one can pinpoint when, nobody’s ready to say it out loud, but Barnes came back different. Off.

Wrong.

Might’ve been that mission in the Midwest (of all places to find that kind of cult) or when someone got it in their fool head to send him to verify exactly what the stone status was on Vormir. Your money’s on the veiled gateway rift that sucked him in but spit two out; he’d beaten his wild-eyed spare and flung it back into the void the moment it’d lunged for you.

Chances are it’s not a solitary event, but the culmination of everything. One could hardly blame him if it were.

Whatever, whenever, he’s not the same. Speech now often sly, maneuvering. Manners slipping into predatory where they’d always been soft.

Sometimes, you think you’re imagining it - cold glint like metal chips in ice eyes - that maybe you only see him differently because of failed romance.

Now, he delights in flustering you. Taunting and near cruel one moment. Playful, protective the next. Makes it nearly impossible to get a read on him.

You find, in spite of your better judgement, uncertainty is its own kind of clever seduction.

“Hey, I know this isn’t really my business, but whatever happened there?” Bruce inclines his head toward where Barnes stalks by outside the lab windows. His second pass since you started to prepping vials for transport. Dark, rough strides. He slips out of view and the lab seems colder. Sleek, sterile. Your mind conjures up memories of sandalwood on fleece, in stark contrast to the lab’s xylene and bitter almond air. “Everyone thought you two were a good match.”

You smile, wistful. Mourning. “I had hoped so, too. But,” you sigh, “what makes good theory does not necessarily work in practical execution.”

Banner tsks. “Shame. Ever since you came on board, you both used to get along so well. Even now, he still looks at you like you ought to be picking out curtains.”

You scoff. “‘Used to get along’ until he...never mind. Whatever Sergeant Barnes might really want, it’s not that. And definitely not that with me.” He’d made that perfectly clear.

Suddenly, as if he’d heard you - but he shouldn't have, couldn’t have - Barnes pauses outside. His glance locks on your eyes. You fumble and clink the glass against the tray’s edge.

Bruce shakes his head, gently using a tremendously large, green hand to steady the tongs you hold. “Careful there. Breaking that in here? Could’ve been ugly.”

“Doctor Banner,” you say, placing the final vial in its slot and trying to shift your attention from the man outside, “your report indicated that universal precautions were sufficient for international transport of these ‘classified contagion’ samples. As I have committed to hand-carrying them, despite possessing insufficient clearance to be privileged with details, if it would be best to utilize hazmat gear and airborne pathogen protocols, not only would I appreciate a full disclosure I would consider it your due diligence to do so.”

He nods. “You’re right. You’re right. It’s really an unknown at this point. I’m just being cautious. Using any iteration of the Hulk as a guinea pig is a scenario I strive to avoid.”

“Fair enough.” You click the lid closed, the half dozen tubes of churning red haze goo nestled securely inside. “Do I wait there for test results?”

“Nah,” Bruce says, already on the way back to his microscope. “Thorough runs could take longer than we can spare you here.”

Smiling, you return your lab coat to it’s hook, smooth your hair, and give the station a once-over, making sure everything has been completed properly. This also serves as a welcome delay to going out those doors and encountering the long-haired enigma who has plagued your thoughts for longer than you care to admit.

“On second thought,” Banner says, peering up over the eyepiece. “She could have a prelim synthesis to send back in no time. Their tech is so different.”

Taking a deep breath, you gather your gear and subtly check if Barnes is still nearby. Being off-kilter around him, while handling what you suspect is more dangerous than Bruce is letting on, is the last thing you need.

Being around Barnes doesn’t feel cordial the way it used to. Warm banter that had felt safe.

You can’t get a read on him, aren’t sure how you feel around him, about him.

You don’t love him. Probably easily could.

You might fear him. Probably, definitely should.

You do...care.

Lately, day in, day out, he’s there. Stalking along the periphery, a shuck peering out from woodlands.

He’s charming, affable enough for everyone else’s comfort. He used to be with you, too.

Even in a crowded room, he - sullen growl of a man - used to seem alone. The kind of alone that oozes off a person, rolls out from his shoulders. Used to it. Accustomed to it.

Trust only it.

When you first tried - heart in your throat and skin gooseflesh - when you first stepped up to that guy, part matinee idol, part drive-in backseat rogue, he’d turned in on himself. Tried to force his large frame to disappear. Behind his barriers, he’d just watched you. Wary. Accessing.

But the next time he’d been holding the wall up, ale bottle in loose metal grip, you didn’t have to look for an opening. He’d lifted his chin and inclined his head toward chairs.

After that, the pair of you could be found engaged in long, private conversations. Content to let whatever ruckus go on around you. Foreheads nearly touching. Fingers not-so-casually brushing together. Your stomach flutters at the memory.

Now, his attention makes the hair on your neck stand up at least as much as it travels down your belly, between your thighs. Puts you on edge, mouse batted between paws.

When you exit the lab, he’s waiting. Leans his back against a column, arms folded. Legs crossed at the ankles, pants taunt were they wrap around his thighs. His eyes flick to you, his only perceived movement. “Whatcha got there, Red?” He draws each word out as if puffing smoke.

Your eyes go wide before you can stop them. Left corner of his mouth ticks up, goal met.

The nickname startles you for a moment. It always does. He dusts the name off, digs it out once in awhile, just when you’ve almost forgotten. When you’ve let your mind scab over that single, awkward date. Forgotten how once upon a time, even his team thought you’d “be good together” and made that final push to fix you up.

It had been right after the rift clone incident. If you’d not been so caught up in him - that red warmth that unfurled in your chest - you should’ve known. Paid attention to his shift, his change. The tragedy of it all.

You’d worn a crimson silk column dress, French twist, Replique dotted on pulse points.

He’d worn black jeans and blood-dirt under his nails.

Peering at you over his menu, he’d dropped it down and motioned between you both. “You took this seriously, huh?”

Only just enough to have waxed everything reasonably prudent.

Crestfallen, your shoulders dropped. Clearly, you thought, you’d misread the prior conversations, his lingering looks, mistakenly thought he returned your interest.

Cheeks on fire, you’d started to fold your napkin and push your chair back. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. I won’t take up any more of your time. You may return to the Olympic-level brooding of which you are so fond and I will retire for the evening.”

He’d thrown his head back, barked what might’ve been a laugh. “You’ll ‘retire for the evening?’“ Shook his head. “Red, you’re too much.” He grabbed a waiter - not ours, but Barnes didn’t let that stop him - “Bring us that special and a bottle of whatever makes uptight dames spread their legs these days.”

You sat still, mouth open, staring at your fork.

He reached out, took your hand in his. Seemed to apologize with his eyes. They held yours, sky fading into sapphire. Held you without touching you.

You look up behind lashes. “Dinner is just...we can have a good time. Talk.”

“Yeah, let’s have the Blue Plate. See how it goes.,” he said.

Then, the air had shifted, when he seemed...vulnerable...he pulled away.

By the end of the night, the pulse pounds in your ears. You’d talked and laughed and when he walked you home, you knew you’d invite him in. You’d always known.

He’d walked you to your door, eight-to-ten now-uncharacteristically chivalrous inches between your bodies on the way up the steps. Single bulb buzzing overhead. The key had proven elusive. Always on its ring and placed in the back pocket of your purse, your shaking fingers had let it slip down somewhere in your bag.

He stepped in closer behind you, looking over your shoulder, breath passing over the shell of your ear. “You need a hand there?”

You jolted up straight, back bumping into his chest. “Thank you,” your voice cracked, “but I think I can manage unlocking my own stupid door.” You inhaled sharply through your nose. “Excuse me,” you said, sounding mousy even to your own ears. “I didn't mean for that to sound so rude.”

“You didn’t, hmm?” He hums, breath slipping down your neck and he wrapped his right hand low around your waist.

“No,” you swallowed hard. Your skin on fire under his palm.

“So, you’re saying you would like a hand...” He whispered, smoothing cool fingers down along the space between your hip and thigh.

Limbs shaking, desire and curiosity and confusion swirling in your veins. You tried to find your voice, leaned against his chest’s blister strum. Shuddered as another warm breath huffed over your skin.

“Y-yes.”

He spun you and you found your back suddenly against the cold, wooden door. His face hovered, lips barely an inch above your own.

“As much as I think you think you want this.” He traced your collarbone, eyes burrowing into yours. “As much as I enjoy hearing your heart race.” His finger dipped inside your neckline, under the edge of your bra, skimming pebbled flesh. You shuddered, worried some neighbor might be looking, but unable to tear your gaze away from his.

“Today’s your lucky day, Red. I am gonna leave ya jus’ the way I found ya.” He pressed himself against you, thigh wedged between yours. “‘Cause, if I stay here on this porch one more minute, with you an’ your wide eyes, smelling like sins you don’t begin to understand…” Stubble grazed your cheek. He hummed, words hot and heavy in your ear. “I think I’d ruin you.”

You wanted to grab his hand and hold it there. To ask him in and show what he did to you, to prove to him...to yourself...that this could be good. Special. Right.

“You wouldn’t ruin me. I - I trust you, ” you squeaked, instead. Tentatively closed that fractional space, brushed your lips against his.

He didn’t let it become a kiss. “You misunderstand me.” He moved back a bit, pulled his arm free and ran knuckles down between you, tracing your chest and then grabbing tightly around your waist. Pushed you, a quick snap, deeper into the door.

“I want to.”

Then, he’d bound off the porch and down the steps before the night air had even cooled your skin. Calling out behind him as he cut across the grass, “You aren’t ready, little girl.”

His words play back every night as you fall into fitful sleep.

Now, he looks at you knowingly. Like he knows where your mind was, that shared flickering old film reel memory.

You hold up the vials and manage a small laugh. It’s short. Belies your nerves.

“Oh, I - I have some things to deliver to Shuri. To Shuri’s lab.”

“Shuri’s lab.” He says, mouth moving as if rolling around an invisible hay straw. He still leans, unblinking, trained on you.

A moment of silence as he considers you. Electricity buzzes across your skin. Words rush out of you to fill the void. “Shuri’s lab. In Wakanda. Shuri’s lab.”

His eyes crinkle, pleased as you stumble over your words. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

Of course he is. You’re supposed to be smarter than this.

Across the hanger, Clint performs his pre-flight checklist.

“Change of plans,” he calls out, back still turned to you. “Laura’s got me roped into filming a play tonight.”

“Okay,” you say, unable to fault her for wanting to keep Clint as retired as possible. “I need to put these samples back on ice then.” You start to head back when a shadow emerges from inside the jet.

Clint says, dryly, “You’re going. Looks like I'm still the only one around here who doesn’t have a Wakanda stamp on my passport.”

Barnes peers down from the quinjet ramp, takes the checklist, and winks. Your stomach drops.

Clint claps him on the shoulder. “Say ‘hi’ to those damn goats for me.”

Once inside the jet, Barnes gestures toward the insulated box you carry. “That it there? What did Barton call it? Funky Cold Medina?”

Of course. Yes, naturally. That’s exactly what it would be. Aphrodisiac Pheromones. Sex Pollen.

The mystery of why evil organizations frequently leave a cache of screw-or-die juice sitting around abandoned complexes for wandering bands of Do-Gooders to uncover is as baffling as why they consider rampant libido to be a great offensive strategy in the first place.

Nodding curtly, acting unruffled by the news, you brush past him and secure it in the cooler.

The plane is at cruising altitude before either of you speak again.

“How long has it been since you’ve been to Wakanda?” You venture, throat tight.

He runs his tongue along his teeth, never looking away from the sky, then answers, “Haven’t been back since Strange showed up.” He pauses, then continues, “Used to have a nice place there. Best view. Sunsets over still water.” Leans slightly out of his seat in your direction. “I think I wanna take you there.”

A smile comes over you, wide and almost hurting your cheeks. This glimpse of how he’d been, hope tingles along your arms.

“I’d love that.” And you would. Have him let you in, return to where he’d been and who he was.

“Sure thing,” he says, voice lilting out on a devil smirk. “I could take you there. It’s...secluded. Make you scream.”

“Why do you do that?” The tingles take on a different tenor.

“Do what?” He sounds believably innocent in the way a prostitute dresses up like a nun.

You fidget, nails scratching a foreign itch on your palms, and chastise yourself, reminded again why it’s better when you don’t get your hopes up. Don’t act on your urge to spend time with him. Your once almost more-than-friend...your wishful thinking...seems gone for good. Now, when he comes around, it feels like finding yourself suddenly teetering on a high ledge when you’d expected grass between your toes.

“Why must you be so...so, crude?”

“It is. I am. That’s the point though, isn’t it? You like it,” he says matter-of-factly, looking you up and down, “Hell, you crave it. And that’s what’s got you confused, all tied up in knots.” He turns in his chair, arms bent and leaning on his knees, casual, is if he was discussing new coffee in the common room or a cell phone plan. “Because you’re stuck thinking the goal is a fella wife-ing you up,” he snorts.

“Hell, Red, you’re still stuck thinking you want a guy grunting on top of you Tuesdays from 9 to 9:10 with a meatloaf pan soaking in the sink.” He shakes his head. ”You have hangs-ups and I’m not gonna play along with them like that boring ass agent you wasted time on.”

“Stop,” you whisper. “Please, stop trying to scare me.”

He blows out a lungful of air. “It doesn’t scare you. That I could just take it. That I could have you - have you in all the ways that you won’t let yourself think you want. The thoughts you kill before you can admit them in the back of that beautiful mind of yours. I could have you every one of those ways. But, that’s not how I want it. Not how I want you. What scares you,” he says, leaning in. “What scares you is, that I won’t. I won’t let you keep fooling yourself about what you really want.

“You know, deep down you know, that’s not how it’s gonna happen. You gotta admit what you need.”

He inches a little closer. “You’re gonna have to beg.”

Your heart stops, eyes unblinking. “You’re wrong.”

“No,’ he says, returning to the controls and beginning your descent. “No, you’re wrong - and I’m a different kind of wrong. I’m so wrong that I’m the only thing right.”

Your head pounds. Stomach lurches as the plane breaks beneath the clouds. “You used to be my friend,” you half-mumble, staring down at your knees. “Sweetheart,” he punches the word out, saccharine-sweet, “I was never meant to be your friend.”

Silence stretches out for several more minutes. Only the engine’s hum, lull and dense, barely bats at the thoughts raging in your mind. Barnes’ words, his presence, suffocates you. Even strapped securely in his pilot seat, it feels like he’s crushing your lungs.

The plane lands in an outlying region.

“I should be back by four,” you spit, container swinging wildly from your fist. The walk is probably twenty minutes from here and you relish the idea of having the quiet to process things.

“Orders are I make sure you’re safe.” He falls in step.

You spin and push a single finger into his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Your services are not needed, Barnes.”

“Don’t be like that,” he snaps, serious. “Just because you’re pissed at me for saying shit you don’t wanna hear, don’t put yourself in danger.”

“Danger? I think I’m infinitely safer out here. It’s Wakanda, the most advanced place on the planet!” You sweep your arms wide toward the city in the distance, towers like exclamation points jutting out of fields. “I’ll be fine. Besides, the plane could have flown directly to the palace but you’re the one who elected to land way out here.”

He pushes his hair out of his face, holding it up and off his neck. You notice the curve, the warm, inviting color of his skin. He looks out toward the trees, calm as anything, like your outburst never happened. “Guess I can check out the old stomping ground.”

Fighting the urge to flip him off, you march down the ramp, leaving him standing there. “By all means. Go have congress with a goat for all I care.”

Mid afternoon, as soon as you break the tree line on your return, he emerges from the woods. Appears freshly bathed in the river, mane wet and loose, shirt clinging to his frame.

“After you,” he smiles, wolfish, and bows exaggeratedly, inviting you to go first up the ramp.

Your eyes narrow, but you climb inside anyway.

Suddenly, coming around from behind you, his hand reaches for the biohazard bag containing the single tube Shuri had sent back.

“What are you doing?” You snatch the bag away, crushing it to your body.

He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Begging your pardon. Just trying to be a gentleman and carry your bag.”

“Knock it off, Barnes. If you’ve got a predilection for hearing every woman throw themselves at your feet, you can satiate it someplace else.”

“Oh, I can. Just don’t wanna.” His eyes narrow on the bag and he wrenches it out of your grasp, tosses it unceremoniously into the cooler and slams the door

You watch the cooler as if the door might burst open and the horny wrath of Hell take flight about the cabin. When it remains undisturbed until Barnes completes the pre flight rituals, you finally allow yourself to breathe a little deeper and turn away from it.

“And you wound me,” he croons, spinning his seat into position. “It’s not every woman.”

You roll your eyes, strap in, and swear you’re never giving him the satisfaction of hearing you speak again.

That resolve, among other things, breaks over the Atlantic.

The air fills, flowery. Like a florist’s shoppe - oh. Oh, god no - so many scents it feels fake. Cloying and sweet.

“Wha-What is- we need to land!”

He holds his hand up toward the windshield, water as far as the eye can see. “No problem. Just shout ‘ahoy’ when you spot some dirt.”

You fling aside the belt and run toward the cooler. Viscous sludge flows slick as mercury on the floor around it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Barnes yells from the cockpit.

You start rummaging through cabinets, looking for something, anything. “Maybe I can dilute it, cut the effects.” You open the cooler and pull the bag out. It’s ruptured, the vial broken and plastic cut, or eaten away by the chemical, it’s hard to tell at this point.

“By touching it?!” He punches in codes hard enough the key clanks echo. “Stop, just - just wait. Wait two seconds until I can find out what’s what.”

You fling the near empty bag at the back of the plane. “You! You did this on purpose!” The plastic thumps, hollow against the metal door. A roaring, mute thing.

Barnes shakes his head once, hisses between clenched teeth, “You’re the one who smashed it against their chest.”

Then, he cleanly switches tone - deep and clear - speaking into his earpiece. “Banner. Yeah, we have a situation here.

“The package Shuri sent back has been compromised. We’re mid flight, no safe place to put her down. Need to mitigate effects. Please advise.” He pauses, presumably listening to Bruce, then purses his lips. “Nothing? Banner, are you sure?” Turns again, gives you a gauging look.

This can’t be happening. Can’t. You start to shake, knees going out from under you.

He keeps his eyes on you, touches the earpiece. “Nothing. Understood. Barnes out.” Then rips it off and throws it hard enough to shatter.

A thousand thoughts swirl at once. Is it really going to work? How long do you have? What if you go at it like rabbits who just got out of prison and then have to face him day-after-day? What if it works on you both but he resists?

Preemptive humiliation, clawing feral behind your ribs, the terror of possibly being rejected if you, if you...finally admit...

Then, Barnes is there, crouched down beside you, offers you his hand. You wave it away.

“Doll,” he says, soft, like one might coax a fawn to take berries. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sniffling, you shake your head.

“C’mon,” he says softer yet and backing up, giving you space. “Get out of that. Come, sit.”

You look down and realize the liquid is seeping toward you. Some on your leg. Scrambling past him you make it to the other side of the cabin and slump back down to the floor. He moves away from the spill, but keeps his distance, placing himself on the other side of the aisle.

“Why?” Betrayal pours out of you.

He sits down on the floor opposite you. Legs bent and knees up, hands clasped and hanging between. “You gotta believe me, the very last thing I want is something happening between us that’s not real.”

You stare at him. He seems so genuine in this moment. But, you force focus, because this is how he always is, right before he pulls the rug out from under you.

When you don’t reply, he breaks the silence again. “Besides, maybe it doesn’t even work. Hasn’t kicked in already. That’s a good sign. I’ve been around that type of shit before,” he pauses, looking off to the right, unfocused on something that isn’t really there, remembering some horror you don’t want to contemplate. “It’s not always so bad.” He shrugs, picks a string off his pants. “Even if it is, if it is...bad, I know I can hold off.”

You can’t look at him. Not when his voice is soft and his words are kind and he reminds you so much of the man you fell...the man you...

dammit.

He gets up slowly. Checks the autopilot. Eases back down where he was. Boots scuffing out in front of him along the metal floor.

“Did you mean what you said?” You venture. He just raises his eyebrows. “When you said you wanted something real with me-with us?” You elaborate, barely audible.

He clears his throat, rearranges himself on the floor. Stares off at nothing. “Why else would I hold off all this time? At first, sure, I thought you were interesting enough. Probably good for letting off steam.” He looks to you for a moment, then away again. “Then, you just sorta snuck in. Took over. You and your little button up sweaters.” Gives a little chuckle. “Fucking seduced me with your cardigans and ‘Nova’ recaps.”

Mulling it over, you start to ask, “Then, why do you-”

“You know why.”

He blows out a lungful of air. “Because I’m not settling for half-ass. Never had much. But they always find a way to take even more.”

So torn up in your own stupid fears - selfish, petty girl - you never thought about his lot in this. A sob punches out of you. Made and unmade. So many times. Here’s another time, one more damned time, he faces control of himself being torn away.

You don’t know how long you sit there, crying into your hand. Eventually, he swipes a tear from your face.

He scoots back away. But his touch...lingers. He watches you trace where he’d been, little lightning strikes that turn and shift, then burn. Burns past your skin, thrums in your veins.

“It’s happening.”

“Nah, Doll. We’re halfway home, we’re not gonna do anything we don’t want to do.”

His voice, coffee rich and smoke, settles in your belly. Your hips clench, rock. You think, this must be the cusp, there’s more to come, but you want to tell him, show him...feel him before you’re so far gone it’s a blur.

Hazy want swirls around him, poppies and violets and jet fuel in the air. Your hand sneaks up under your shirt, the rough outline of it juts out over your breast. He’s sitting up now. Licks his lips.

“I can’t - noooo,” you say, breathless. It’s scorching now. Boiling, latent want bubbling up. You pull your shirt off, burning.

“I can’t wait,” you plead. He looks so good, always looks so damned good. “I don’t want to wait.”

His back goes straight. Muscles tense. Ready to pounce.

“Not like this.” His breath has picked up. “Not if you think you can tell yourself later that it was chemicals talking.”

“You want real, Barnes? I’ll give you real,” you purr. Stretch out lythe before him. It’s not so bad, but you know it will be. “I do want this. I want you. Always have.”

He smiles, crooked, but doesn’t move. “That’s nice. Real nice to hear.” Watches your hand go under your clothes, between your legs. “That’s not enough. I could’ve had you back then. Back on your porch. Had you a couple times. Taken the edge off. Maybe gotten it outta our systems. But,” he stops for a moment, seeming to reconsider when you moan as you slip between your folds. He palms the hard length of him. “that’s not enough. I want all of you.”

Electric yearning rolls your shoulders, pressure between your legs frustrating. “Please.”

“‘Please’ what?” He shifts again, watching you, sweat forming on his brow. Fists clenched at his sides.

“I don’t want to date you, Red. Don’t wanna be your boyfriend or any fucking trivial thing like marriage.” Stares you down, blue boring into your soul. “I want more than that meaningless shit.”

Your mind is nothing but the want of him - broad shoulders, his gravel-tired voice, the thick of him.

Skin on fire with tremors. “Anything you want, Bucky. Everything. Please. I just, just-” you moan, a twisted mess on the floor before him. Voice a shuddered breath. “You’re right. I want you everywhere. Mark me up. Show me - show me you own me.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Then, he’s there. Hands holding your jaw, angling you open, tongue a deep slide. He breaks free, swallows your breaths, presses his head to yours.

He’s out of his clothes while you fumble with what’s left of your own. They start to rip. “Shush. Let me.” Deftly, he undoes them, sets you free. “You need to wear these later. No one gets to see but me.” His eyes sparkle mischief until the thin sky edge gives way to black.

Cool fingers slide inside you. One, then two. Curl and pump, wet and obscene. Moments and, you’re there. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna come.”

He doesn't let up. “Yeah you are. Give it to me.” Your head falls forward, clinging, hanging on through a silent scream, wet rushes past his wrist.

“My turn,” he snarls. Towers over your, pushes a finger past your lips, hooks it around you cheek, and pulls you to his cock. Pressure and he angles your face up, finger replaced by thumbs at each side pulling your mouth wide - drool pooling - and pushes the tip onto your tongue.

You give a tentative lick. Try to work the girth of him while he holds you open. “Look at me,” he says, hair a veil framing his face. “You can do better than that. Don’t hold back.”

You keep your eyes on him, nudge his hands away, work him halfway down, salty musk on the back of your tongue.

“This ain’t about you being passive, Sugar. Come on. Show me what I do to you. Fucking treat me right,” he growls, grabs your head and shoves as you gag. “I didn’t spend months coming in my own hand, thinking about you, biding my time - waiting to do this right - for you to barely-”

Fast, determined, almost angry, you swallow him down as far as possible, eyes wet and blurred. Find the spot behind him, between his legs, warm, heavy, and rub in tight ovals. “Fuuuck - yesssss.” He twists your hair in his hands - holding you in your place.

“That’s it. Oh god, Sugar, you didn’t just come up with that. What else you got hiding, waiting to show me? So fuckin -“ he shudders as you massage him more, pinky brushing farther back.

He laughs, surprised. “Dirty girl.” He pulls out, then wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing himself there as he pushes back in. “You got the sweetest goddamn throat.” Thrusts while you run your circuits until he empties himself, head thrown back and thighs straining.

He moves faster than should be humanly possible, unfurls his jacket over the floor grid, and pulls you over it. Wads his shirt under your knees.

“Floor’s hard,” he says, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I only want you feelin’ me.”

“Spread.” He smacks your ass with a sting.

You obey, arch your back, offer yourself. He dives in with his mouth, tongue in deep. When he starts to thumb your clit, constellations bursting behind your eyes, you stop him. “In me. I want to come with you inside me. Only with you inside me.”

He smiles, face slick with you. Straightens, grabs your hips and pulls you to him as he starts his slide in.

You mewl, palms flat and fingers splayed. Try to relax through the stretch and drag, strain to take the rest of him.

He runs his hand over your spine. “Just a little more, baby,” he coos. “Fuck. Look at you. Takin’ me so good.

“You’re mine. The moment I heard your heart race, you were mine. When I made you wait, you were still mine. When I told you to beg for it and you did, you were mine. When I told you to spread your legs and you did it, you were mine.” He makes a final push, fully seated, sharp spark at your end. Holds you there, pulsing. Then, pulls out long, begins again.

It’s everything you ever wanted. He was so right. So, so right and you can’t believe you waited for so long and you really need to thank Shuri for not inventing vibranium test tubes.

“When that bastard wearing my face looked at you, looked at you like he had the right, that’s when-” He moans long and low, makes a particularly full stroke, air sucking through his teeth.

“That’s when I knew. No other man could have you. Even if that man was me.”

His hands dig into your hips. Anchoring you. He holds you open, watching. Cold thumb follows the line down the center of you. Stops above where you meet. Pad runs over where you’re tight and untested.

“Pleeeease,” you keen. You need him. Need him everywhere.

His hips falter, finesse sacrificed to curious need.

“Has anyone been in here before?”

“No,” you mewl, debauched, wanton.

His pace picks up. Harder, slamming, sting against cervix. “I need in there. Fuck. Sugar, let me in.”

Beyond words, you tilt your hips and push back, forcing him in knuckle deep.

“Only me,” he roars. “Promise me. Swear.” He angles over you, spreads you out, chest crushing to the floor. His free hand finds your neck. Pins your down. Breath harsh beside your ear.

“You. Only you.” You come, crying and clenching around him in all the places he is within.

He pulls out. Kisses your face as he lifts you, turns you to him.

He settles between your waiting thighs - surrounds, nuzzles in, taking in your scent - until there’s nothing you can see, or feel, think, that isn’t him.

Then he stills. Then watches. Then breathes.

Brushes his warm hand along the curve of your face. Presses a kiss, pillow soft. Weight pinning you down. He pushes fully back in, his head breaking skyward as you take him.

Hips rolling full - the drag and curve brings him to your chest. His tongue slips along you breast, seeks and teases. Licks and pulls you in.

His hands wrap around your thighs, anchors you, opens you up. Kisses deep and pushes in, until you’ve run out of you and he’s run out of him.

“Fuuuck, you feel so good. I knew you would. Thought about you every fu- every fucking day.”

He stops for a moment, beaming down at you. You realize you were the one talking.

“That’s my girl.”

Then, he’s moves, ruts, whispers faint praise into your skin. Low. Can’t quite hear.

And you want to hear.

You want to taste his secrets and feel his sounds and listen to his mouth on you.

You push up into him, hard, matching him. You explode again, suddenly.

“Fuuuuck. He swells. Rhythm falters. Marks your walls.

After, you tuck into his side, both of you curled up on the floor. His face is finally relaxed, serene. You press your lips above his heart.

“Bucky, I want you to know, I wanted this, I will always want this. I am yours. It wasn’t just the chemicals.”

He kisses the sweat and tears from your face. Tucks your hair behind your ear. “I know, Red, I know,” he says, eyes sparkling, voice sincere, “Bruce said there was ‘nothing’ to worry about. That wasn’t the pollen - that was just the antidote.”

#dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!fic

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jessahmewren · 5 years

Text

“Midnight in the Meadow” / Queen / Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

A young scientist has an unexpected meeting with an unusual vampire.

It’s Frian week day Five! Fantasy!

Rated M for violent and some sexual themes

Words 2597

Pairing: It’s Frian Ya’ll

Also on Ao3

-0-0-0-

Freddie slipped into the old t-shirt, letting the hem skim just below the waist of his worn jeans. He had been asleep all day, the moon was out, and he was hungry.

It was feeding time.

He tied back his medium-length hair, letting his black-painted nails flick expertly over the hair tie until his ebony locks were secured at the base of his neck in a low ponytail. He checked himself in the mirror, his gaunt face pale, dark circles under his eyes.

It was a myth that vampires couldn’t see their reflection. They were doomed to reflect on their cursed existence for all eternity.

Freddie grabbed his bag, opened his second story window and jumped, landing as gracefully as a cat before slinking off into the woods behind his home. It was time to hunt.

Brian watched the small herd of deer as they slept in the meadow, making notes in his journal. He had tracked the migratory habits of this particular herd across England and, as a scientist for Cambridge’s animal research department, felt most at home camping in a glen, squinting through binoculars at Mother Nature.

The meadow was quiet. The deer were munching contentedly on sweet grass, and a baby fawn nuzzled its mother, suckling gently. Brian smiled, taking more notes and jotting down the time. These deer were feeding late, which was notable but not unusual. It was the near winter, and the deer felt the season’s call to fatten up.

Unbeknownst to Brian, someone else watched the deer.

Freddie crouched in a thicket of berries, not fifteen feet from the feeding deer. He could smell the warm blood coursing through bodies, could hear their rapid heartbeats as they grazed in the meadow. The deer were totally oblivious to Freddie, though. Since his change, he had lost all human smell, making him the perfect hunter.

One of the deer had a fawn with her, and he frowned. He wouldn’t take the mother or the baby. There was another deer there, a young buck. Let him get a little closer, Freddie thought. His mouth began to water, and his eyes glowed as green as the meadow, the pupils sharpening to slits. Just a little closer. A sharp cramp in his stomach nearly doubled him over, but he never lost his focus as the young buck moved into his field of vision.

Brian watched through the binoculars as the young buck bowed his head to eat from the cool grass of the meadow. One moment he was munching the grass, and the next, two marble hands were wrapped around his horns, twisting his neck with a quick, efficient snap.

Brian cried out, dropping the binoculars as he rose from his hiding place. Through the fog he saw a dark head bent to the tender neck.

Freddie heard the footsteps approaching, but his hunger wouldn’t listen. His hunger, hundreds of years old and stubborn, said feed, so he fed on the little deer until it had nothing more to give. Just as the footsteps reached him, he withdrew, fangs still out and dripping down his shirt to turn and look at the intruder.

It was a man. A young man with curly hair. The man’s heart was beating so fast; he could hear it. He could smell it.

The deer had been small, the man had interrupted him, and he was still hungry.

He launched himself at Brian, knocking him to the ground and straddling him in an instant. They tussled in the fog for a moment before Freddie had an arm against Brian’s throat.

“What are you doing in my meadow?” he hissed. Blood spattered from his lips, and his fangs were still out.

Brian stared up at him in horror. “I…I’m watching the deer.” He finally managed.

Freddie turned his head, his green glowing eyes narrowing as if to better understand the odd man.

“To steal them?”

Brian shook his head. “No! To just…watch them. For science.”

Freddie ran his tongue over his outstretched fangs, lapping the dripping blood there, and smiled. “So you’re not a thief.”

Brian barked out a laugh, despite his compromising position. “Of course not. I…I didn’t know this was your meadow.” He looked into Freddie’s glowing eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Freddie’s mouth watered at the smell coming from the man beneath him…the blood pulsing in his neck, the soft warm skin against his arm and the unique musk of the man’s human scent...earthy and spicy; it awakened something within him that was far quicker than hunger. It was sharper, more distinct.

Freddie blinked, and his eyes no longer glowed.

Brian quivered a little beneath him. “Are you going to kill me?” He said quietly.

Freddie licked his lips, then drew in his fangs. “No, of course not darling.” He swallowed. “I don’t do that anymore.” He stood, dusting off his shirt, then helped Brian to his feet. “That’s why I hunt.”

Brian just looked at him a moment, rubbing his throat absently. “Well what—

Freddie just laughed. “Not what darling, who. ‘What’ is just rude. My name is Freddie. Freddie Mercury.”

Brian looked down at the hand extended to him, and hesitantly took it. The skin was smooth and cool, the nails painted black.

“Why don’t you come back to my house love? I can get cleaned up and we can have some tea. You’ve had quite the fright after all.”

Brian found himself nodding at the bloodstained face, wanting to know more this man and what (or who) he was. Maybe it was the scientist in him, but he was more curious than afraid.

Brian sat in a homey living room, a cozy fire blazing in the hearth. The man had left him to go upstairs for a moment, presumably to go wash up, and Brian surveyed his surroundings.

The cottage was spacious and well apportioned…rustic modern. Freddie had taste, and the few antique pieces he had strewn about the open-design living space spoke of life and history. Brian found himself leaning over a vase as Freddie came down the stairs in a patterned red jacket and cream-colored blouse opened at the neck. He wore a series of cords doubled around his pale throat, and Brian’s eyes were drawn to them.

“You like these?” Freddie said smoothly as he fingered the charms that hung around his neck. “The moon and stars. Picked them up in Dubai. They’re supposed to be talismans, in case I’m ever lost.” Freddie’s eyes, brown now and warm with knowing, flashed softly at Brian. “The moon and stars are my eternal friends, after all,” he said with a soft smile.

Brian’s mouth quirked, his eyes flitting up to rest on Freddie’s face. It was smooth, frozen in the bloom of youth. It couldn’t have been more than—“

“How old are you,” Brian asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Freddie straightened his coat. “23.”

Brian huffed a little laugh. “Is that really all?”

Freddie eyed him sharply. “Why? Does the real answer affect whether you take tea with me or not?” Freddie was already walking to the kitchen area, withdrawing a beautiful china teapot with gold leafing.

“No,” Brian exhaled. “I just…want to know more about you, that’s all.”

Freddie smiled. “For science?”

“No,” Brian said, meeting Freddie’s brown eyes in the warm light. “For myself.”

The kettle burbled. Brian settled on the couch, and Freddie served him biscuits. “I made these myself,” he said with some measure of pride.

Brian looked at them with some trepidation.

Freddie giggled. “Go on, darling. If I wanted to kill you, you would’ve been long dead by now.” He took a biscuit and put it to Brian’s lips. “Take a bite,” he said, just the point of one of his fangs teasing its way into view.

Brian savored the lemon ginger biscuit as the kettle screamed, unable to hold back the pleased little hum at the taste. Freddie was back in a flash, two steaming cups of tea in those delicate cups and set them on the coffee table.

“You did that very fast,” Brian said around a mouthful of biscuit. “Come to think of it, you cleaned up pretty fast, too. Is that part of –“

“Being a vampire?” Freddie flashed his fangs when he smiled.

Brian swallowed, taking a sip of tea.

“Is that what you are?”

Freddie crossed his legs, and again Brian was struck with his ethereal beauty, the grace with which he held himself.

“If the legends are to be believed, then I’m a vampire. I feed on blood to survive.”

Brian nodded. “How would you describe yourself, then?”

Freddie put a hand under his chin, his eyes slipping closed. “A man who is striving to be better.”

Brian found it a very thoughtful answer, almost philosophical. “That’s why you hunt animals.”

Freddie nodded, smiling. “I am sorry I have to do it…but I have to feed my hunger. Believe me, I’ve tried to fast. The results were…not pretty.”

Brian held up a biscuit. “Can you eat food?”

Freddie smiled, his cute overbite showing instead of his fangs. “Oh yes. But it doesn’t satisfy me. I can eat for pleasure though. For taste.” He sipped his tea as if to convince Brian of the fact. “But it doesn’t fill me. Nothing does except blood.”

Unbeknownst to him, Brian was frowning. To have to live that way for who knows how many years…denying your true self…

“How old are you, Freddie?”

Freddie looked sad for a moment. “I’ve walked this earth for 407 years,” he finally said.

Brian’s small intake of breath was loud in the open room, and he promptly clamped his mouth shut.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Brian said softly. “I don’t want to pry. I just find you fascinating, Freddie. And not as a creature to study in the woods, but as a person.”

Freddie blinked, his eyes curiously red. “Go ahead Brian. Ask me anything.”

Brian relaxed a bit on the sofa. “Why don’t you enjoy being a vampire?”

Freddie sipped his tea. “I reject killing to live. I stopped taking human lives over 200 years ago. I’ve been subsisting on animal blood ever since. It’s a viable substitute, but it’s also why my skin has such a pallor to it, and why I don’t have a lot of energy. I also have to feed more often than I would if I fed on humans.”

Brian nodded. “I find that very respectable. So you hope to regain your humanity?”

Freddie smiled. “That’s impossible, I’m afraid. But by honoring that little bit that resides within me, I feel that I can hold on to what I have left.”

Brian shifted on the couch. “What if…you were to feed on a human without killing them? Wouldn’t that sustain you more than an animal’s blood?”

Freddie shook his head vigorously. “Too risky. I might take too much. And it would still be against their will.”

Brian bit his lip. “What if it were consensual?” He nervously fingered his teacup. “I mean, what if the human were to consent to being bitten? Would you do it then?”

Freddie’s eyes narrowed, and his senses picked up on that sweet smell again…not just of Brian’s blood, but of his natural scent, and his instincts prickled.

“What are you saying Brian?”

Brian waffled a bit, pushing a hand through his dark curls. “I’m saying that maybe, since our misunderstanding in the meadow, that you could drink from me.”

Saliva filled Freddie’s mouth at the mere thought of piercing that tender neck, and he swallowed it down, shaking his head firmly. “No, Brian. Thank you, but that will not be necessary.”

Brian frowned a little, his eyes growing dark. “What if I want you to?”

“You…you want me to?”

Brian set his teacup down and crossed over to where Freddie was sitting. He sat beside him, his shoulder flush with his. “Yes,” he said softly. “I want you to drink from me Freddie.” He let his hand go up to lightly brush the open collar of Freddie’s shirt, then drift down to clutch a cool hand. “Please.”

Freddie swallowed, trousers tight at the proximity of the man, instincts screaming Drink! as he fought a private war with himself. He locked eyes with Brian, noticing for the first time the warm hazel, clear like a mountain stream.

“You know what this would mean, Brian. Your life would be in my hands. I could lose control; I could take too much.”

Brian stroked his face, leaving Freddie shivering despite his permanent chill. “You won’t,” Brian soothed him. “You’ll take just enough to help you.” Those hazel eyes looked up at him again. “Please, let me help you.”

Freddie licked his lips, the persistent hunger rising to an incredible ache. There was arousal too, under the surface of the hunger, springing to life. He wanted Brian, and not just as a meal. He leaned forward, brushing Brian’s hair away from his face and pressed his lips to Brian’s. He felt the man shiver and moan, his arms going around him, easily relaxing into the kiss.

Brian nipped his way inside of Freddie’s mouth, need leading the way as he captured the man’s velvety lips, wondering what they would feel like on his neck as they were draining the life out of him. He nicked himself on one of Fredde’s fangs, drawing blood, and a low, rumbling growl came from Freddie, sending a bubble of excitement through Brian.

Freddie pulled him away, tasting the blood on his lips. His eyes were meadow-green and glowing, and his fangs were fully extended…but Brian wasn’t afraid.

Freddie gingerly braced a hand on his shoulder and bared his neck. He mouthed it slowly, wetting it with his tongue and lips until Brian could feel the scrape of his fangs of his jugular vein. The sensation went straight to his cock, leaving him a panting, sweating mess.

“Take me Freddie,” he nearly mewled, “I know you need it.”

Freddie just sat, entranced, watching the throbbing skin of Brian’s stretched skin.

“Go on lover. Do it!”

With a final lick, Freddie sank into the buttery warm softness of Brian’s neck. The sweat warmth of his blood hit his palate immediately, and he groaned and fluttered his eyes as he sucked him down, caressing him the entire time.

Brian had never felt ecstasy like this before. From the moment Freddie pierced his skin, the pinch and pain brought so much pleasure, ratcheting up his spine like an orgasm that never released him from its grip. He could feel himself grow lightheaded as the blood rushed from his body...could hear the pleasured groans from Freddie, but he was helpless to do anything but to clutch on to him, even as his hold grew weaker and weaker…

Freddie finally released him, and Brian, now pale and unconscious, sagged in his arms. Freddie promptly carried him upstairs, tucking him under the satin sheets of his large bed.

Morning came without incident. Brian woke up in the bed alone, a glass of orange juice and a cream cheese bagel beside the bed. There was a note on the tray in elegant script. “Eat. Drink. It will help you get your strength back. And please visit my little meadow again soon. You are always welcome. P.s. Follow the moon and stars; they will help you find your way.”

Brian felt at his throat, and there was Freddie’s necklace, cleverly hiding two neat puncture wounds on his neck. He smiled.

-0-0-0-

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seasonofthegeek · 5 years

Text

Just for Tonight: Unbind Me

Today’s drabble was requested by the lovely @miraculouspaon for Gabriel and Nathalie. Because I’m in too deep with Just for Tonight and I feel so blessed that she is too so this is a drabble for the current storyline.

Nathalie knew she was experiencing a bond vision by the time she’d passed the third of Jagged’s guards who didn’t blink an eye at her out and about in the mansion. She’d been able to slip out of the suite without Penny even looking up from her tablet so she was obviously in some sort of dream state. Maybe the block between her and Gabriel had been lifted. Something was leading her down towards the basement anyway and her sire was the only one she could fathom calling out to her from there. After all, the only other bond she had now was the one with Jagged and she doubted he had found any type of control over it yet.

She thought about how tired she was of making her way through the labyrinth of the basement and then she was suddenly standing in a small dark room and looking over the crumpled form of Gabriel. There were perks to knowing she was in a dream.

“Are you alive?”

“We haven’t spoken in weeks and that’s your first question?” Gabriel groaned, turning his head to the side.

“It seems apt.” She knelt down and attempted to brush his stringy hair away from his face but blood had dried the strands to his skin. “This is how you really look down here, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have the energy to show you anything else.” His voice was tired but the exhausted look in his eyes changed when they met hers. “You look...”

Nathalie frowned and looked down at herself but she was still wearing the same pantsuit she’d put on for another day of being locked in her suite. “What?”

“Something’s changed in you.” That seemed to be enough to exhaust him and his eyes slid closed once more. “The bond perhaps.”

“I do feel better than I have in a long time,” she admitted. “Stronger.”

“Jonathan’s afraid.”

“He should be.”

Gabriel tried to chuckle but it came out as a weak cough.

“Adele and Adrien are okay as far as I know. Adele has been sent to work in the kitchen but Jagged is sparing her to win favor with me. He’s using Adrien’s marriage to his fledgling as a show of mercy for the other houses.”

His shoulders rose and fell in a relieved sigh. “That’s good to hear. I’d accepted the worst.”

Nathalie thought of a chair and then she was sitting in one, the ache from squatting near her sire easing away. “You’ve given up then.”

He was quiet for a long stretch. “What would you have me do, Nathalie?” he whispered.

“I don’t know, Sir. Not this though.”

Half a smile disappeared just as quickly as it had come. “Perhaps I should die.”

“We both know you’re too stubborn for that,” she answered quickly. She thought how nice it would be if Gabriel were better and sitting in a chair across from her but he stayed broken on the floor. Apparently her power over the vision only went so far.

“Once, perhaps. Now I’m not so sure.” He took in a deep breath and something wet and sickly sounding rattled in his chest. “I saw Madeline.”

Nathalie wasn’t sure what to do with that information so she only nodded, hoping he would continue.

“She was one of the spirits, of course. Her blood is on my hands just like the others.”

“In a way.”

Gabriel frowned as if he hadn’t expected her to agree with him but continued. “She said Felix is alive.”

One of Nathalie’s fangs bit into her bottom lip. “Jonathan confirmed the same. I wasn’t sure if I could believe him.”

“Perhaps there’s hope for you to find him unless it’s some form of a cruel ruse.”

They sat in the kind of silence only two people can have that know everything about the other and accept them all the same. They’d spent decades together, close to a century, and Nathalie found herself wondering if they would even make it to that marker. It was quite possible neither of them would survive in the end. Gabriel’s death would surely mean hers as well. He could release her from his sire bond but the mere thought caused her heart to seize up inside her chest.

“Sometimes I wonder...”

She startled when Gabriel’s voice broke the quiet between them. “What, Sir?”

“You call me that even now?”

Nathalie gave him half a shrug even though she knew he couldn’t see. “I know you like it.”

His eyes opened for a second or two and Nathalie thought he may have smiled before his face seemed to shut down again. “I love my wife and son,” he said, “but sometimes I wonder if I should’ve married you after Madi. Maybe...”

“I don’t think that would’ve changed anything, Gabriel.” Nathalie felt a lump forming in her throat and swallowed against it. “Besides, you do love Adele.”

“I love you too.”

“It’s different.”

“Is it?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes. And it does us no good to dwell on things that can’t be changed. We need a plan.”

“To what end?”

It was almost a visible thing, his failing spirit. The Gabriel she’d always known who was stubborn and determined was fading away and leaving behind a husk of a man. Even in its bad shape, his body might outlast his hope at the current rate. She had to give him something to hold onto. Gabriel needed a purpose; he always had. He needed something to strive for, something to fight for, and apparently the wellbeing of his family and house already seemed lost to him.

Nathalie went to her knees once more and put her hand to his dirty cheek. He was still under her touch for a few seconds before pressing up into it. “You’re my sire, Gabriel Agreste, and you owe me this.”

His eyes flew open as her tone turned harsh and Nathalie dug her fingernails into the soft skin of his cheek even as he tried to push his head back against the floor.

“I’ve followed you through everything. I’ve protected you and yours. I killed your father to save your family. I’ve broken my own heart into pieces to take care of yours and you will not give up like this.” She could feel her rage settle around her shoulders like a cloak and she wore it proudly. “Now tell me you’re going to try to fight.”

“Nathalie...please...”

She could feel his skin giving under the pressure of her nails. “Promise me, Gabriel, or I swear I will die with you and you will never get a moment’s peace.”

His breath was coming out in ragged gasps that sounded like they were being ripped from his throat. “I can’t,” he whispered.

“You will. Say it.” She moved to press her knee into his back and he jumped. “Now, Sir.”

The tension eased out of him and Gabriel took in a shaky breath. “I’ll fight,” he promised.

She nodded and removed her knee. Her hand went back to a gentle caress of his cheek and she leaned down so she could kiss his temple. “I’ll come for you as soon as I can,” she whispered. “That’s what I promise. I’ll never stop fighting by your side.”

“You okay? You looked like you zoned out for a minute.”

Nathalie blinked and found that she was no longer in the dirty basement with Gabriel but was back to sitting in the armchair across from Penny in her prison suite. “Just tired, I guess,” she lied.

Just for Tonight

Before Just for Tonight drabbles

Buy me a cherry coke?

#just for tonight #gabenath #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur

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rachel-hathburn · 5 years

Text

(( DOVE CAMERON, 23, SHE/HER, BISEXUAL)) [Y]? NO, THAT’S [PENELOPE WASH] BUT THEY CAN ALSO BE CALLED THE [THE WISEACRE ]. I’VE HEARD THEY CAN BE [DRIVEN && UPBEAT] BUT ALSO [JUDGEMENTAL && HIGH STRUNG]. THEY CALL OCEANSIDE THEIR HOME WHEN THEY AREN’T TOO BUSY BEING A/AN [ELEMENTARY TEACHER]. WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT THEM, YOU CAN ALWAYS PICTURE [SHARPENED PENCILS, THE FIRST BREAK OF DAWN, PAINTED NAILS]. – MEGAN, EST, SHE,HER –

LINK TO HER WANTED CONNECTIONS

>Penelope Wash| Pen, Penne, Penny, Princess P, PP, Poe<

Pronunciation

✎{PEN}-{EL}-{OPEE}

Age

✎23

Gender

✎FEMALE

Race

✎WHITE

Languages

✎ENGLISH- (A bit of french from one college class)

Height

✎5′8 (I know Dove is pretty short but I see Pen being on the taller side)

Birthday

✎ SEPTEMBER 15th

Zodiac

✎VIRGO

Blood Type

✎ O+,

Alignment

✎NEUTRAL/NEUTRAL

Spirit animal

✎COUGAR;

Leadership

Standing Behind Convictions

Confidence

Clever

Awareness

Learning Proper Use of Power

Messenger Between Human and Divine Beings

Balance

Steadfast

Responsible

Dependable

Family History

Penelope didn’t always live in her neighborhood or house she does now. She actually used to live in a far bigger house with her Mother, Father, and Older Sister. Her Mother and Father were the farthest thing from the nurturing type and treated their daughters like robots, always coding them to perform at an unachievable level; Her older sister Prim however didn’t find it so unachievable and was exactly what their parents always wanted. Prim went on to become a neurosurgeon and once she got to job moved out to Vermont, their parents deciding to follow with her. Penelope was left on her own basically at 19 and a half, with nothing but a crippling understanding that she was useless and began to forever deem herself that way. She tried to contact her parents and sister but seeing as none of them ever really took a liking to Pen, she never got a response back. Penelope was given everything in life, finically, and never really was taught how to support herself. It wasn’t long until the girl began getting heavily into the party scene which inevitably brings about a lot of negative inhibitions, however the girl struck gold with meeting the people she’d soon come to live with in the Animal House. These people soon became her family and she enrolled into a community college, got her degree in education, and landed an amazing teaching job at a near by school. ~• •~

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"Above all, be the heroine of your life. Not the victim." — Nora Ephron

Age of Appearance

✎Pen always tend to look a bit younger at first glance, especially without any make-up on, however her height and demeanor change that once you actually speak with the girl.

Body Type

✎Pen likes to take care of herself, she tends to keep busy with the chaotic house she lives in and with her work.

Skin Tone

✎Pale, blushes easily.

Complexion

✎ Freckles on the top of her nose, faint.

Birthmarks

✎She has a birthmark right under her rib-cage, someone once told her birthmarks are how you died in a past life, and she been convinced she was stabbed there ver since.

Scars

✎She has one large scar on her arm, a burn from back when the animal house began and she drunkenly tried to make stir-fry for everyone.

Cosmetics

✎It’s rare for someone to see Penelope with out her face done.

Outfit

✎She dress in a way that makes her look put together and classic. However she does step it up and go all out when going out on the town.

Accessories

✎She has a necklace from when she was little that never leaves her skin.

Body Modification

✎She has gotten lip fillers before and keeps up with them regularly.

Are they confident in the way they look:

✎Yes, Pen is secure in her appearance and takes pride in her looks.

~• •~

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“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”– Lao Tzu

General Temperament

✎Penelope is generally a bit cold off first impression, unless you’re close with her or are one of her students. However once she warms up to you the girl is very caring and attentive to your needs.

Happiness

✎Penelope finds her happiness through helping her students learn, she says theres nothing better than when a kid is struggling and then finally grasp the concepts, it is one of the most rewarding things to the girl and a big part of why she loves her job so much.

Sadness

✎There are many things that make the blonde sad, however only a few that really rock to her core. Poverty, kids coming in without supplies that are needed, and climate change are some of the more impersonal ones. Her family is 100% a home run of sadness.

Anger

✎Penelope gets angry when people are extremely reckless, which is ironic because she used to be the poster child for recklessness, I mean she is living in the animal house after all. But as she's grown up, the girl has done a big 360 and now is one of the most responsible people in the neighborhood. As she gotten to be the teacher to many of the children living around other close neighborhoods she finds it disrespectful when people are reckless outside of their own homes.

Confusion

✎Penelope is confused about what to do with her living situation. The girl wants to move and get a smaller place of her own but she knows some of her room-mates would fall off the deep end without the structure she brings to the house, and even though the girl puts on a tough mask, she is a softie at her core, especially for her room-mates who she deeply loves.

Favorites

Animal

✎She loves big cats. period.

Flower

✎forget-me-nots, when Pen was little the name used to make her cry, but they’ve come to be her favorite flower of all time.

Weather/Time of the day/Season

✎For someone living in California it’s hard to imagine her favorite weather not being clear and sunny; but yet, Pen likes the cold. Nothing makes her happier than when their little town finally starts to cool off a bit.

Food

✎Penelope is good a cooking, she can’t make anything extreme but she’s learned how to whip up a nice dinner and usually does so for her house.

Drink

✎Nothing makes Pen happier than a spiked lemon-aide.

Colour

✎Pink! If that isn’t obvious.

Country

✎All she has ever known is california, but the girl has always been fascinated by paris, hence why she took up french in college.

H͟a͟b͟i͟t͟s͟

Social skills

✎ Penelope is a natural at schmoozing and knowns how to put on charm when she wants to.

Insecurities

✎Penelope is insecure in that fact that she never feels proud of herself, her accomplishments never really feel like they’re enough and she is always striving to be useful or helpful to someone so she doesn’t get left behind. But she’d never say that out loud.

Hostility

✎Penelope tends to be very forward when she’s angry, but through working with elementary school kids she has learned how to calmly talk through her emotions, or so she tries.

Fears

✎Being completely useless.

Drives|Motivation

✎Penelope always feels like she has to prove herself, even if the only person she’s proving anything to is herself, and that keeps her driven and motivated.

Dreams|Aspirations

✎To have a family of her own and to make sure her students get the best education possible.

~• •~

First Words: ball

What emotions to the attribute to their childhood: rejection

Morning Person or Night Owl: morning person

Significant Childhood Memory: Pen’s parents bringing her and Prim to the amusement park because they both got straight As

Current Residence: Animal House

Occupation: Second grade teacher

What do they smell like: Vanilla and rose

What words or phrases do they overuse: “Okay- got it, thanks.”

Do they have a catch phrases: “Can you- not.”

What is their greatest accomplishment: Their job

What smells remind them of their childhood: The smell of pencils

What was their childhood ambition: To please her parents

Do they believe in love at first sight: No

Do they believe in true love: Yes

Have they ever had their heart broken: Yes

Are they ticklish: Very

Can they keep a secret: Absolutely

How do they display affection: Words of affirmation

Are they okay with PDA (Public Displays of affection): Yes, a tasteful amount

Are they a virgin: No

How do they want other people to view them: Successful

Are they competitive: Yes, very.

Deadly Sin : Envy

Heavenly Virtue: Diligence

Are they a minimalist or a hoarder: bit of a hoarder with classroom supplies

Where do they go to feel safe: in their room

Where do they go when they’re angry: the beach

What password do they use for everything: penpalpenny333

What is their favorite day of the week: wednesday

What do they keep in their pockets: spare erasers

What is their most treasured object: she has a necklace she wears 24/7

Do they have any pet peeves: slobs and slow walkers

How confident are they: 5/10

How generous are they: 10/10

How creative are they: 9/10

How honest are they: 6/10

How loyal are they: 8/10

Are they manipulative: She for sure can be but only if there is a calling for it

How predictable are they: Pen has her moments where the retired party animal will randomly appear but other than that her schedule is pretty regular

How do they flirt with people: by trying to appease them

Book smart or street smart: A healthy mix

Do they prefer being hot or cold: cold, pen loves the cool weather

What do they think is the worst thing you could do to another person: Abandon them

How do they deal with stress: By doing one million things at once

Are they comfortable crying in front of other: Only a select few, and even then its rather uncomfortable for her

What social justice issue would they be most passionate about: Proper education for less fortunate kids.

If they could change one thing about themselves what would it be: Pen would change her inner need to please and accommodate those around her.

Sexually Explicit Questions:

Are they a top or a bottom (Or do they switch): Definitely a secret bottom there is no doubt.

How important is sex to them: Like on a scale?? maybe a 6

Do they believe it is a mostly emotional act or a mostly physical act: Pen thinks it can be both

Turnons: Caring people, acts of service, when someone is trying not to smile.

Turnoffs: Ignorance, Toxic Masculinity, and people who hate children.

#os.intros #eee im so pumped #plzzz mssg me and plot w pen!!

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manako-no-yami · 5 years

Link

the cost of forgiveness

Rating: T Relationship(s): Past Dazai Osamu/Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, some present DazAtsu Tags: Denial, Unrequited Love, One-sided Love, Rejection, References to Unhealthy Relationships Summary:

Atsushi and Dazai go on a date. Akutagawa is the fallout of their happiness.

for day 7 of @dazaimultishipweek2019!

They’d never gone on dates. The idea seems absurd, anyway.

He told himself that they weren’t that kind of couple. That the hungry kisses that left his lips bruised, the cool, indifferent smirk that was always thrown his way when he was the only one left flushed and panting, the game of power that they’d always play, and that he’d always lose—that was just par for the course. It was just what was normal for them. He knew what their relationship looked like to other people, but it never mattered because he didn’t need approval from other people.

Only one person’s opinion had ever mattered. There’s only one person who’s back he’s forever chasing, only one person that can decide his fate.

He’s staring at that person, right now, and it feels like his fate is that of trash on the side of the road. Like newspaper floating in the sewer, soggy and disintegrating.

He watches through the window in disbelief, as Dazai smiles and laughs.

It looks like a genuine laugh. Dazai is a good actor if he wants to be, but there had always been an edge to him. A coolness, a distance. This warmth that Akutagawa sees in the picturesque little cafe isn’t at all like the Dazai he knows. It’s something that Akutagawa knows can’t really be faked.

You are either part of that world, or you aren’t.

Dazai isn’t. Wasn’t. Couldn’t be.

Nakajima is laughing too, hunched over across from Dazai, lowering his head so that his fringe covers his face a little. Dazai reaches over, placing his fingers under his chin to nudge it up, so that they’re looking in each other’s eyes.

He has a soft expression on his face. He pinches the weretiger’s cheeks and stretches them, his amusement and fondness glowing as Nakajima flounders and pouts.

It’s touching, really.

If it didn’t make him feel so sick.

He stands outside the cafe, in the cold, and watches.

I’ll wait until they leave, he decides. Until Dazai is alone, and then I’ll speak to him.

So he waits.

The streets of Yokohama are apathetic. The people bustle by, unfeeling, not bothering to stop and look at those that they pass by. It’s an apathy that Akutagawa knows well, from his time in the slums. The self-absorbed need to only care about oneself, to ignore the misery around you.

Cruelty isn’t a lack of feeling—it’s a survival tactic.

Maybe that’s why Akutagawa strives to be the most cruel of all. Maybe that’s why Dazai is so strong, so untouchable—his cruelty knows no bounds. He wields emotions like a scythe with an inviolable hand, steel doors locked around his heart so that he can safely juggle others’.

That must be what he’s doing with Nakajima.

It has to be.

As if on cue, the door to the cafe opens, and they walk out together. Dazai’s arm is slung casually around Nakajima’s shoulders. The tips of Nakajima’s ears are pink, the curl of Dazai’s mouth gentle.

And then it happens.

Dazai leans down and Nakajima rises to his tiptoes, fingers curling around the lapel of Dazai’s coat. Their lips meet, and Akutagawa stares, eyes wide.

It’s nothing, really. The barest brush, just a gentle press of their lips together. It’s short, sweet.

Tender.

They’re slow to part, noses brushing as they smile at each other, laughing together for no discernible reason, for no reason other than that they are happy.

It’s not hungry, it’s not possessive. It’s not a battle where one loses and the other wins, there’s no power imbalance at all. It just is.

Dazai never kissed Akutagawa like that.

This is… wrong. This is blasphemy.

Dazai isn’t capable of that kind of feeling. He isn’t capable of that kind of gentle love.

And if he was, the weretiger isn’t the one who deserves it. He isn’t the one that spent years, his entire life practically, chasing after Dazai. He isn’t the one that ripped himself apart, over and over, time and time again, out of yearning. He did nothing to deserve this. Nothing.

So why him?

Akutagawa is shaking, fraying at the seams. Rashoumon prickles against his skin, reacting to his distress.

So he turns to the only salvation left to him.

Anger.

He keeps it bottled up like a solid chunk of metal in his chest, and trails after them, keeping a distance between them and ducking into the shadowy corners of the buildings.

Not that it matters.

Dazai must know he’s there already.

“I have something I need to take care of. Atsushi-kun, you go on ahead.” Dazai says. Nakajima frowns, but relents.

“Okay. See you later, Dazai-san.”

Dazai tsks.

“What did I tell you to call me, Atsushi-kun?”

Nakajima blushes.

“See you later…Osamu-san.”

Dazai gives their linked hands a swing and a squeeze, then lets go. It’s obvious from the way they both linger that they’re reluctant to part, but eventually Atsushi crosses the street and Dazai stands at the corner, watching him go. Then he turns in the opposite direction and casually strolls past the various storefronts, until he arrives at a discreet alcove, a nook between buildings.

Akutagawa follows, brushing past other pedestrians, eyes intent on his goal.

And then he’s there. He has him in front of him, and they’re alone. Together.

“So? What did you want?”

He—

Suddenly, Akutagawa is left wordless, bereft. Why had he come here? What did he want to accomplish? Why, why did—

“Why did you do it?”

Dazai looks past him. Akutagawa hates that.

Look at me, he wants to say. Watch me. Everything I do is for you.

“Why did I do what?”

“Why did you…kiss him.”

Dazai sighs, stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Because I like him. Because we’re dating.”

Something in Akutagawa stops working. He goes blank.

“That’s a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“It has to be a lie. You’d never. You wouldn’t, not with—not with someone like that.”

In an instant Dazai’s eyes are flashing.

“Someone like what, Akutagawa-kun?”

This, he knows how to deal with. Akutagawa instinctively takes up a defensive stance, familiar with the steel in Dazai’s tone.

This, is the Dazai he knows.

“Someone like him. Someone who’s weak.”

Someone…soft.

Someone from the light.

Someone like Nakajima...with someone like Dazai?

If this is what Dazai wanted, then…what has Akutagawa been doing all this time? Has everything—is everything he is—is it all wrong? It can’t be.

It can’t be.

“Atsushi-kun isn’t weak,” Dazai says. “And I think you know that. He’s stronger than anyone gives him credit for. And it’s the very thing that you despise in him that makes him strong.”

Akutagawa doesn’t understand. None of this makes sense.

Dazai sighs.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry, Akutagawa-kun.”

…What for? This is all the weretiger’s fault. Dazai has done nothing wrong. It has to be Nakajima’s, because if it isn’t—if it isn’t Nakajima’s fault then—it must be his. Akutagawa’s.

For not being good enough. For failing.

But even so, he can’t just give up. He has to continue trying.

He refuses to let go.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you. For how I treated you,” Dazai continues.

The words are like a shock of cold water. He doesn’t understand how to respond, so he chooses to ignore it and say what he came here to say.

“Dazai-san, I can do better,” he says, taking a step forward, voice rasping in his throat. “Just give me a chance. I can do better! I can be better than him. I’ll do—anything. Anything you want.”

Dazai sighs, something in his eyes dimming.

“And that’s exactly why it will never work, Akutagawa-kun.”

He almost sounds...forlorn. Regretful. Like it hurts him to have hurt Akutagawa.

This is wrong. This is wrong. This is all, all wrong.

Dazai is not kind. He is not gentle, or caring, or forgiving.

He is skin rubbed raw, blood underneath your nails, a stern command that you must throw your entire being into fulfilling. Dazai is the unreachable, the untouchable. Being with Dazai is closer to worship than anything else.

And yet, he recalls the way Dazai had carded his fingers gently through Nakajima’s hair, pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m sorry, Akutagawa-kun,” Dazai says again. “But I have to be going now. Take care.”

No. Wait.

He stumbles forward, hand outreached.

You can’t leave me like this. Not like this.

Dazai’s feet come to a stop.

“Akutagawa-kun,” he says. “Allow me to tell you one last thing. Think of it as a parting gift, from your senpai.”

He turns to look over his shoulder and pins Akutagawa with a gaze so open it’s terrifying.

“Self-worth doesn’t come from the outside. It comes from within.”

The breath in Akutagawa’s chest hitches.

“Goodbye.”

#dazaishipweek19 #daaku #bsd #dazai osamu #akutagawa ryuunosuke #nakajima atsushi #fanfic #fic #ficlet #drabble #clod not lefting but #sighs only one more day left in dazai ship week :((((((

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lostinfic · 6 years

Note

I would love to read an Alec Hardy fic that involved him recieving oral. I think about that a lot. 😳

Anonymous said to lostinfic: 31/38 hardyxhannah

#31 Spanking

#38 Ownership/claiming/marking → already written

A/N: I tried to write this as in character as possible, so… yeah, it’s interesting

➜ Kink flashfiction

Ao3

It wasn’t planned. Far from it. But she supposed it had always been on her mind, ever since her failed foray into domination. She didn’t have it in herself to flog another human being, but she had envied the blissed out look on these men’s face as they submitted completely. But at that point, there was no one she trusted enough to even try this particular fetish.

It first happened two years into their friendship. A sporadic relationship that admittedly didn’t make any sense, yet somehow they just “got” one another.

She’d lost a boyfriend and had a big row with Ben. Her clients annoyed her to no end, and the men she hooked up with at night failed to make her come.

She felt scattered.

She couldn’t stand herself, yet felt very far from her own body.

So she went to Hardy.

Tess had taken Daisy out of town to see her parents. He was busy tearing rotten planks out of the patio behind the house.

The midday sun beat down over them, lending a hazy glow to the air. Mirage heat.

Hannah pulled the hem of her t-shirt through the collar and sat in the sun.

With a hand over her eyes, she watched him push on a crowbar until the plank cracked then pull it off with his bare hands.

“Don’t you ever stop working?” she asked.

“It’s cathartic.”

He threw the plank away.

“Maybe I should try that.”

“You’re more than welcome to help,” he said, wiping his forehead with his arm.

“Nah.”

“Why are you here anyway?”

She tried to explain what had happened with Ben and her boyfriend, and how she felt. It was a stream of consciousness more than a conversation.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Dunno what you want me to say, Han.”

“Could you give me a hug?”

After a moment of hesitation, he ditched the crowbar and wiped his hands on his worn out jeans. He tried to avoid touching her bare skin, but Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck so he had no choice but to hug her waist.

His skin smelled like salt and wood chips. His hands were rough.

“Better?” he asked.

It wasn’t enough. Like a spider web to tether a zeppelin, she might drift off any second.

“Tighter,” she asked.

His fingers reached for her ribs. Their chests expanded for breath alternately. In and out. From one to the other.

He rested his cheek atop her head. Closed his eyes. Allowed himself 10 seconds of respite.

“It’s only guilt you’re feeling,” he said.

She pushed him off.

“Just because you’re feeling guilty all the time doesn’t mean I am.”

Hardy reeled from the sudden backlash.

“I can live with my sins. I can live with who I am,” she insisted.

“You sure about that?”

“You think you’ve got me all figured out.”

“What d’you want from me?”

“Nothing.”

“Why are you here then?”

She should leave. But she couldn’t go. She stayed there, breathing raggedly, teeth and fists clenched. Her nails bit into her palms. She pressed them harder.

“Han?” There was genuine concern in his voice.

“I need a spanking,” she blurted out.

Hitting another person went against everything he believe in, but she convinced him. There was something about Hardy, he was a policeman and strived to do the right thing, from the beginning of their friendship he had been her rock. No one else would do.

Whereas she needed to give up control, he needed to regain some— especially when he was with Hannah.

It was bond to be awkward at first. The smacks were too light, and even though she'd asked for it she fought him. But when they both gave in, the relief was instantaneous. The pain grounded her, and made her feel absolved.

They didn’t talk about it afterwards. Not until she found herself feeling all out of sorts again the following year. Although she was reluctant to ask, this time she knew what the solution was.

After that, with each spanking session, it became easier to submit. It reset things between them, reaffirmed their trust and care for each other,

It became more pleasurable too. The proximity, the intimacy. If Hardy noticed her arousal, he never mentioned it.

It didn’t happen often, only a handful of times across the years, but he recognized the signs now. She would get restless and moody, snarkier than usual. A behaviour designed to push him away, not because she disliked him but because, sometimes, she disliked herself. He knew that now.

Like today. He'd spent the weekend in London with her and was about to leave for Broadchurch. She'd been acting strange since his divorce.

“Do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care,” Hannah shouted.

“I will.”

“Fine. Piss off!”

As she left the room, Hardy instinctively grabbed her arm. She looked at his hand, then at his face with a frown. He had never initiated it before. For the first time, he knew what she needed before she did herself.

“You’ve been bad,” he said.

Hannah swallowed thickly.

He gave her time to think, to voice her objection if need be. She hung her head.

“Over my knees. Now.”

Hardy let go of her arm and sat down on the couch. He patted his lap. He kept his voice steady and level, he never raised it, never threatened or tried to scare her.

Hannah shuffled over. Everything in her rebelled against this, even if she wanted it.

She knew he was right. Ever since he'd left Tess, she'd hoped for things she didn't dare admit even to herself. And when this weekend with him didn't turn out the way she'd dreamed, she took her frustration out on him.

“C’mon,” he said with a hint of impatience in his voice; it was part of his role.

Hannah placed herself across his knees, her cheek on the velvet couch and her feet dangling on the other side. He crossed her wrists behind her back and held them in one hand. An uncomfortable and unsteady position, completely at his mercy, but secured by his firm grasp.

As he’d learned to do, he squeezed her butt cheeks over her shorts to increase the blood flow and prevent bruises. She tried to squirm out of his hold, but this too was part of their roles.

“Why do I need to spank you today?” he asked.

She didn’t answer so he landed the first slap over her bum. She jolted in his lap with a fake cry of pain.

“Answer me.”

“No.”

He tugged down her shorts and knickers, then rained little slaps all across her bum and the back of her thighs. Tension started leaving her body. Her fists unclenched as her cheeks reddened.

“Because I’m being a brat.”

“Aye.” He spanker her again. “And?”

This was the hardest for her to admit. It took three more spanks.

“Hannah?”

“Because I don’t really want you to go,” she mumbled.

He slapped both cheeks hard.

“Properly,” he demanded.

“Because I don’t really want you to go,” she said louder.

“Well done.”

He stroked her hair gently.

He had mixed feelings about seeing her like that, he loved his strong, confident Hannah, he’d rather she didn’t drive herself to these extremes, but felt privileged that she let herself be vulnerable with him.

She turned her head and nuzzled his palm. She was already in a sort of daze, the world around her forgotten.

“Make it hurt,” she asked in a soft voice.

When his hand left her face, she braced herself for the spanks to come. He had her count them out loud, to keep her in the moment, otherwise she forgot her limits.

All her nerves were on fire. She was panting and moaning, trying to avoid yet asking for more. Harsh slaps alternated with soothing caresses in an unpredictable pattern. The vibrations echoed between her legs. Each one kindled the fire in the pit of her stomach.

She widened her legs.

Did she even realize she was doing it? He tried not to look, but the glistening shades of pink were too alluring. He shifted under her— she was writhing too close to his groin. This was for her, not for him.

He slapped her inner thighs, and she clamped them shut.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“No you’re not.”

She whimpered and tried to stay still. In this state, it didn’t even occur to her to shift position and seek the release she needed.

“Almost done. Can you take two more?”

“Yes, please.”

He spanked her twice, the hardest ones that echoed through the living room.

He released her wrists but kept a firm grip on her or else she would slump to the floor.

Hannah was high on whatever chemicals her brain released in these moments. The fact that he’d initiated the spanking had made the session even more intense for her. But she needed more.

She spread her legs again.

His breath hitch.

She canted her hips, pressing her pubic bone against his knee.

“Please.”

When he didn’t speak, she looked up at him and he remembered his role.

“Do you think you deserve it after acting like a brat?”

She surprised him by sliding to the floor between his legs. Her face was flushed, her eyes glazed over.

“I want to be good for you,” she said.

She ran her hands up this thighs, looking up at him with wide doe eyes. Her mouth followed the same path as her hands, and he hardened at the feel of her hot breath through his trousers.

“You don’t have to…” he said weakly.

“I want to. You're always there when I need you and you never asked for anything in return.”

This wasn't entirely true, but any rational though exited his brain when she unfastened his belt and unzipped his fly. She stroked him over the cotton of his pants.

He wasn’t fully hard, he’d been too focused on her, but it all came rushing to his groin the moment she touched him.

She grinned when he twitched under her palm. She looked more like herself now with a challenging twinkle in her eyes. Her fingertips slipped through the opening and grazed his length.

Shocked, he didn’t move and held his breath.

“Hardy?”

“Hm?”

“What should I do?”

Right, he was still in control.

“I don’t think you want to be good, you’re being a tease.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Then use your mouth.”

She nodded.

There was a single-minded determination to the way she licked and kissed him to full hardness. A sort of adoration he’d never been on the receiving end of.

When she wrapped her lips fully around the tip, he threw his head back and groaned. She focused on the head, swirling her tongue around and pressing it to the sensitive underside. She slipped her hands under his shirt, caressing his taut stomach. He fisted the couch cushions.

“Keep going.”

She took him, gagging deep.

“Careful. Slow down, love.”

He twisted her long blond hair around his fist and guided her rhythm. She hummed and closed her eyes, giving herself entirely to the task. Her warm tongue swirled around on the way up, her lips squeezed on the way down. His engorged glistened with saliva and lip gloss. She rubbed her thighs together.

It came as no surprise that she was extremely good at this. He chased away the nagging doubt that it was all an act, that she did it that way for clients too.

“Han,” he whispered like a prayer.

He caressed her cheek, and she released him with a pop just long enough to kiss his palm and offer a brilliant smile.

His pleasure escalated too quickly. He tapped her head to warn her, but she kept on sucking. He burst in her mouth with a grunt.

She continued to suckle as he softened, and he had to stop her when he became too sensitive.

She rested her head on his knee as he recovered.

He could have professed his love right then.

“Come here.”

He helped her to her feet, and she sat on his lap. He traced light patterns on her inner thigh, inching higher. He gave her time to change her mind, but even there her skin was slick.

“Kiss me,” he said. It was more a question than a command.

Any doubt that he’d overstepped the boundaries vanished when she cupped his cheeks and kissed him deeply. With a hand on the back of her neck, he didn’t let her break the kiss when he grazed her slit.

He moved slowly in and out, then added a second finger, keeping up the pace, then pressed the heel of his hand. The kiss turned messy and savage. Her juices coated his hand. Wet noises echoed in the room. His fingers moved quickly. He wanted her to see stars.

She clung to him, her nails left red crescents on his freckled skin.

She came fast and hard, her whole body quivering in his arms.

As she came down from her high, he rubbed her back in broad, soothing strokes.

Normally, she was happy and bubbly after a session, released from her anxieties, today she was unusually quiet.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“It was… different.”

“Yeah.”

“Talk to me, Han.”

She searched his face for a moment, then placed her hand upon his chest.

“I'm just realizing that... you’re the only one for me.”

“Good.”

And he kissed her.

#Thanks for the prompts!#I hope you don't mind me combining them #Hardy x Hannah #Teninch fic #lostinfic writes stuff #kink flashfiction #I don't know if anyone will even like this #Anonymous #Reply

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