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#so silly. the energy the eyebrow quirk

lixiepixiedust · 6 months

Text

friends

pairing — badboy!felix x fem!reader; highschool au; friends w/ benefits

word count — 3.1k words

warnings — she/her reader, they argue way too much in this, jealousy (both ways), felix is kinda aggressive, uses of korean names, suggestive, small make out, almost sex

summary — you and felix have been friends with benefits for far too many months and everyone knows you secretly like each other. when mutual jealousy arises, you too get into an argument that makes your feelings way too obvious its silly.

"Y/n!" A boy in your year approached you with an eager expression. His name was Juwon, and you two have talked a few times in Chemistry class. He was nice, super weird, but nice. You still tried to avoid him when could since being around him was often draining.

You chuckled awkwardly, "Hey, what's up?" you asked.

"Can I ask you something?" he inquired, lowering his voice.

"Sure," you replied with a forced smile.

"You know, Felix?" he blurted out quickly. "Are you dating him?"

Your smile faded as your eyebrows furrowed, "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know, I've just noticed you two walking home together and chatting in the hallways," he explained defensively.

"Are you stalking us?" you asked skeptically.

"No! I'm not stalking you," he clarified.

"Ok, this is kinda weirding me out," you chuckled, clearly uncomfortable.

"Sorry, I just see you two so often," he said.

You raised an eyebrow, still puzzled by Juwon's sudden interest in your relationship with Felix. "Okay, but why do you care if Felix and I are dating or not?"

Juwon scratched the back of his head nervously. "Well, um, the thing is, I sorta have a crush on you."

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that confession. "Oh," you said, not sure how to respond. You took a moment to process this information. It explained his odd behavior and sudden interest in your personal life. "Look, Juwon, I have to be honest too—I'm not looking to date anyone right now. I've got a lot going on."

Juwon nodded, disappointment evident on his face. "Oh, I see. Well, I guess I just wanted to know for sure. Sorry if I made it weird."

"It's okay, Juwon. I appreciate you being upfront about it," you said, trying to ease the awkward tension.

"Well, you know, cause you're not with anyone, I was wondering if, I could get your number, though?" he asked tentatively.

You thought about it for a moment. Despite his quirks, Juwon seemed like a genuinely nice person. "If you want it, you have to promise me it's just as friends," you said with a small smile. "I hope you understand that's all I'm looking for right now."

"Nevermind, then," he replied, a bit crestfallen. "Bye, Y/n."

After Juwon left, you sighed, feeling a mix of relief and sympathy for him. You gathered your things and decided to take a break in the hallway. As you walked towards your locker, you couldn't help but mull over the recent encounter. The hallway was relatively quiet, and you leaned against your locker, staring absentmindedly at the passing students.

As you were lost in thought, contemplating the conversation with Juwon, you suddenly heard familiar laughter approaching. Turning your head, you saw your boy best friend, Felix, walking down the hallway, engaged in a lively conversation with a girl who's name you completely forgot. They seemed to be getting along well, laughing and sharing jokes as they walked.

A strange sensation gripped your stomach, a mix of surprise and discomfort. You didn't expect Felix to be chatting so animatedly with another girl, and for some reason, it made you feel a twinge of jealousy. You shook your head, trying to dismiss the irrational feeling. After all, you and Felix were not dating yet, and you had no right to be possessive or jealous.

Felix looked up, and his gaze met yours. That familiar smirk played on his lips as his flirty eyes eyed you up and down, assessing you. You couldn't help but clutch your bag. You gave him a small wave, matching his energy, but he then continued his conversation with the girl beside him.

As you turned away from Felix, trying to shake off the strange feeling in your stomach, you unlocked your locker and gathered your homework and textbooks. With a deep breath, you tried to compose yourself before making your way to find, your bestfriend, Chaewon.

Spotting her not too far away, you weaved through the crowd and approached her. Chaewon's eyes lit up when she saw you, and she enveloped you in a tight hug. "Y/n! How's it going?" she exclaimed.

You returned the hug, grateful for the comfort of a friend. "Hey, Chaewon. It's been a bit of a day, to be honest. How are you?"

"I'm great! I'm ahead on all my work. Come to my locker, tell me everything."

You nodded, and you both made your way to her locker away from the bustling students. You stood beside her as you shared a bit about the encounter with Juwon and the unexpected interaction with Felix and the girl.

Chaewon listened attentively, concern evident on her face as she closed her locker. "Sounds like a lot's happening. You know, guys can be so confusing sometimes. Maybe Felix was just being friendly with that girl, you know, like how he is with everyone? You two have been fucking for like months, there's nothing getting in your way."

You chuckled nudging her playfully. "I'm not worried about that." you lied.

As you continued chatting, Chaewon suddenly looked past your shoulder, her eyes widening slightly. "Hey, speaking of the elephant in the room," she said, pointing discreetly behind you.

You turned around, and indeed, Felix was leaning against a nearby wall, observing the two of you with a playful smirk on his face. Your heart skipped a beat as you caught his gaze. "Hey, Y/n." he called, strolling over with a confident stride.

Chaewon shot you a knowing look before excusing herself, purposely leaving you alone with Felix. "What's up, Felix?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

He leaned against the locker beside you. "Just wanted to see you. How was today? We didn't have time to talk at all."

"Yeah, um, nothing else besides Lee Juwon asking if we were dating," you admitted, avoiding eye contact with Felix.

Felix raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "And what did you tell him?"

You sighed, "I don't even think I gave him an answer after all. Then he told me he liked me."

Felix remained silent for a moment, his jaw tensing. "Juwon has a crush on you?" he repeated, his tone more serious than before.

"Yeah," you continued, "he asked for my number, but I made it clear that I'm not looking to date anyone right now. I just wanted to be honest with him, cause I would've told him we weren't dating."

Felix's expression shifted, a subtle disappointment flickering across his face. "Oh," he said, his usual playful demeanor momentarily subdued.

"Yeah, sorry if that's not what you were expecting," you added, feeling a bit uneasy about the whole situation.

Felix leaned back against the lockers, running a hand through his hair. "No, it's cool."

You nodded, appreciating his nonchalant response. "I mean, we're just hanging out, right?"

"Right," he said, though there was a hint of something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place.

After a moment of silence, you mustered the courage to bring up the topic that had been bothering you. "By the way, who was that girl you were talking to earlier?"

Felix's expression brightened a bit as he remembered the interaction. "Oh, her? Just someone from my last period class. We started talking recently. She's cool." Felix nudged you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, though."

You tilted your head, trying to maintain your composure. "Oh, I'm not worried. Why would I have any reason to be worried?"

Felix chuckled, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Right, right. We're just hanging out, after all."

The mocking tone in Felix's words didn't go unnoticed by you. You felt a surge of frustration, but you tried to brush it off. "Exactly, just friends," you replied with a forced smile.

Felix's smirk widened, and he looked down at you, a subtle condescension in his gaze. "Glad we're on the same page, then."

Your irritation grew, but you bit your lip, choosing not to escalate the situation. "Yeah."

The tension between you and Felix lingered as the conversation continued. The casual banter that usually flowed between you two felt strained, and there was an unspoken frustration in the air.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, you found yourself heading towards the exit with a mix of apprehension and determination. You reached the school gates and you noticed Felix a few steps ahead of you, also making his way out. The distance between you felt like a vast chasm, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Despite the silence, Felix glanced back and caught your eye, a momentary flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.

When you stepped out into the fresh air, Felix slowed down, allowing you to catch up. He reached over and effortlessly took your bag off your shoulders to carry it for you, a gesture he had made a habit of since the beginning of your friendship. It was a small comfort, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that seemed strained at the moment.

The two of you walked side by side, the silence becoming almost suffocating. However, Felix's act of taking your bag spoke volumes. Even in the midst of frustration and unspoken words, he didn't want you to bear the weight alone.

"So, Felix, anything interesting happen with you today?" you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from the awkwardness.

Felix shrugged, his eyes still holding a hint of irritation. "Not really, just the usual. Classes, hanging out, you know." He snapped sarcastically.

"Mhm," you replied.

The silence that followed was filled with an uncomfortable energy. You could sense Felix's annoyance, and you were growing increasingly frustrated yourself. It was as if the unspoken tension was bubbling just beneath the surface.

Finally, Felix broke the silence with a sarcastic chuckle. "So, you and Juwon, huh? Quite the love triangle developing here."

You rolled your eyes, irritation rising. "Don't be ridiculous, Felix. It's not like that. I told you I rejected him."

He raised an eyebrow, a smug expression on his face. "Sure, sure. After all, we're just friends, right?"

You clenched your jaw, annoyed by his insinuations. "Yes, Felix, just friends. Is that so hard to believe?"

He leaned in closer, a challenging glint in his eyes. "Well, if we're just friends, then why do we-"

"Felix, stop." You interrupted him before he could finish his sentence.

Felix sighed. "I was about to say: Why did it bother you so much to see me talking to another girl?" That was clearly not what he was about to say.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "It didn't bother me. I was just curious. That's all."

Felix's smirk only widened. "Curious, huh? Seems like someone's a little more invested than they're letting on."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. "You know what, Felix? This whole thing is ridiculous. If you're going to act like this, maybe we should just stick to being actual friends and nothing more."

"Wait, I thought we were friends to begin with." Felix laughed which pushed your buttons even more.

The irritation between you and Felix continued to escalate as you walked towards the intersection where you two normally split up to go to your own houses after school.

Finally reaching the familiar crossroad, you stopped and turned to face Felix. "Give me my bag."

Felix crossed his arms, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, come on, Y/n. No need to be so uptight about it."

You gritted your teeth, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Felix, I mean it. I just want to go home."

He chuckled, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. "You know, you're being quite stubborn about this. What's the harm in hanging out a bit more? We're just friends, right? "

You sighed, feeling a mix of annoyance and fatigue. "Felix, we're not in the mood for this right now. Can we please just go our separate ways?"

But instead of acquiescing, Felix shook his head with a playful smirk. "Nah, I've got a better idea. How about you come over to my place?'"

The irritation reached its peak as you reluctantly allowed him to guide you in the direction of his house. "Fine, but only for a little while. I've got things to do."

Felix grinned triumphantly, his playful demeanor seemingly unaffected by the tension. "Deal."

As you and Felix approached his house, a familiar sense of comfort washed over you. You had been there countless times before, and despite the current tension between you two, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a fleeting sense of happiness at the prospect of spending time in a familiar environment.

Felix swung open the door with his usual flair, ushering you inside. The air inside his house was filled with a mix of warmth and familiarity.

You had been to Felix's house many times before, and despite the current tension between you two, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort at the prospect of spending time there.

Reaching Felix's front door, he swung it open with a flourish, gesturing for you to enter. "After you, my friend,"

You stepped inside, the familiar surroundings evoking a strange mix of emotions. It was a place filled with memories of laughter, shared secrets, and casual hangouts. The familiarity momentarily lifted your spirits, and you found yourself slipping into a momentary sense of contentment.

Felix closed the door behind you, and you both made your way to the living room. "So, what do you feel like doing? Homework?" Felix asked, attempting to break the awkward silence.

You hesitated for a moment, still grappling with the unresolved tension between you two. "Honestly, Felix, I don't know why you insisted on dragging me here."

Felix plopped down on the couch, looking at you with a casual grin, ignoring your question. "Or..." he took your hand and pulled you onto the couch with him, "My parents aren't home, but that doesn't matter cause we're just friends hanging out, right"

"Why can't you let it go, Felix?" you retorted, your frustration reaching a boiling point. "I don't understand why you're so pressed about this whole thing."

Felix's anger suddenly bursted out of nowhere. "Because we're not just friends, and you damn well know it!"

His words hung in the air, the weight of the unspoken tension finally surfacing. Before you could respond, Felix closed the distance between you two in an instant. The sudden intensity caught you off guard as he slightly pushed your shoulders against the side of the couch, pulling you into a hot, angry kiss.

The kiss was a collision of conflicting emotions—frustration, desire, and a hint of desperation. Felix's lips pressed against yours with a fiery intensity, as if trying to convey everything he couldn't put into words. The anger that had simmered between you two transformed into a raw, passionate exchange.

For a moment, you were suspended in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. The familiarity of Felix's touch, coupled with the undeniable chemistry, ignited a spark that had been smoldering beneath the surface. It was a heated kiss that spoke volumes, a silent admission of the unspoken connection that neither of you could deny.

The air crackled with the intensity of the moment, and for that brief instant, it felt like the world outside ceased to exist. The kiss lingered for what felt like an eternity, and as Felix finally pulled away, hovering over you.

Felix's eyes bore into yours, looking down on you. "Do friends make out every week, or is that just us?"

You took a moment to collect your thoughts, the conflicting desire within you. "Just us," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"So, we're not just friends, are we?"

Felix, sensing the subtle shift, leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze that spoke volumes. Without saying a word, he traced a gentle path with his fingers along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine.

Your breath caught as Felix's lips latched onto the sensitive skin of your neck. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and your heart raced in response to the unexpected touch. His kiss was rough, mirroring the unspoken desire between you.

Felix sucked on your neck, leaving a mark. It sent a wave of tingles through your body, and you couldn't deny the magnetic pull that drew you closer. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against your skin.

As Felix continued to explore the delicate curve of your neck, a mix of emotions flooded your senses—desire, uncertainty, and the undeniable chemistry that had always simmered beneath the surface. It was a moment suspended in time, where the boundaries between friendship and something more became increasingly blurred.

Finally, Felix pulled back, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of playfulness and sincerity. "Friends don't usually do that, do they?"

You took a deep breath, attempting to process the whirlwind of emotions that had just unfolded. Felix's eyes searched yours for a reaction, and a vulnerable tension lingered in the air.

"No," you replied, your voice dripped with lust.

Felix grinned, his playful demeanor returning. "Well, I guess that means we've crossed the line ages ago."

He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and leaned in for another kiss, the intensity of the moment still lingering. You reciprocated the kiss, but as Felix's hands began to wander up your skirt, you felt a surge of hesitation. Even though you two have had sex a few times already, you first needed to talk this whole thing out. Pulling back slightly, you met his gaze with a hint of caution. "Felix," you breathed out, "Stop, slow down."

Felix's hands halted immediately as you pulled away, and he looked at you with an understanding expression. The room, once charged with a heated atmosphere, seemed to cool down as Felix maintained a respectful distance.

"Sorry," he said softly, catching his breath. "I got carried away."

"It's okay," you replied, your voice a bit shaky.

As the tension eased, Felix reached out to gently fix your hair, his touch tender and considerate.

Felix, with his usual playful demeanor, leaned back with a smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes undiminished. "Well, that was unexpected of friends, right?"

335 notes · View notes

necstasy · 22 days

Note

paul atreides x bene gesserit reader? 👀 pretty please

slight manipulation?; bene gesserit reader; &. PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

"have you mastered it yet?"

you know what the atreides son is speaking of. the voice, one of the most difficult parts of the bene gesserit training. for a second, you wonder how he knows of the technique. and then you remember his mother, a woman the reverend mother has spoken highly of during your training sessions, despite her defiance.

your eyes watch you and paul's hands as you go to speak. they hang in suspended air off to the side of you both, fingertips touching lightly as paul leads your hands up, down, and to either side. he's creating a box, you realize. it's a soothing and mesmerizing dance.

"no. not yet."

paul hums. his free hand moves from behind your back to your waist.

"it's difficult." it's not a question, he speaks from experience. your eyebrows furrow. you have the urge to ask him how exactly he knows. you want to know if he is being trained in the ways of the bene gesserit, something a man has never been privy to.

but so much else is already sacred in this space. in the dead of night, in your guest quarters, a space that you should not be sharing with the only son of your host for the next week. but it was only natural that you and paul found each other. there was a pull drawing you towards him since you got off the ship. the order of events surely would have driven you two together in an intimate space sooner or later.

"it is," you agree after a moment.

paul shuffles just a bit closer to you. the bend in your elbow increases as your bodies get closer. paul's hand flexes as he bunches the dark fabric of your nightgown in his hands, pulling you just a hair closer. you shouldn't be this close to him. you've never been this close to a man before.

the energy is electrifying.

it buzzes through the air, pulsating between you both to the beat of your heart. you try to call on your learnings. you try to calm your heart in the most simple human ways, the ways your mother taught you before the reverend mother did.

paul licks his lips before he responds again. he takes a moment, he breathes, and you pull your eyes away from your hands to look at paul. the glowglobe hovering just behind you illuminates his face perfectly. it casts shadows where his curls lay over his forehead, it deepens the impressive hollow of his cheekbones. you can see how long his eyelashes are, and how colorful his eyes are. you're hyper-aware of the moles dotting his face, and the scar he has in his cheek.

you're even closer than you thought, but you like it.

"i found that ... pleasure can help you."

your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline before they fall back to their resting place and push together instead.

"pleasure?"

paul nods.

"how do you mean, my lord?"

his lips quirk up at the honorific and you suddenly feel silly for using it. paul doesn't mention it, though.

"when i'm alone in my room at night, in my own company—" the image enters your brain before you can fight it. paul on his back, his hand below his waist, his eyes heavy lidded and his breath even heavier. you swallow and clear your throat.

"it's like i can feel it wanting to come out of me. and the mornings after, when my mother makes me use it, it's easier."

you don't know how much truth exists in his words, and his suggestion, even if it has yet to be blantantly placed in front of you, is dangerous. it's stupid and risky. and yet, you find yourself drawn to it. that same pull that brought you to paul is bringing you to wanting him to lay out his invitation.

he does soon after.

"do you want to try it?"

you do. you really, really do.

"how would we do it?"

paul pulls you even closer to him and now your chests are touching. he's fighting back a smile, it's obvious in the way the skin around his lips dimples for a second before returning to neutrality. when he speaks, it's harder for him to hide it.

"i don't have to touch you if you don't want me to."

"i want you to." the admission slips from your mouth so quickly and so easily. it's a little embarrassing. your skin warms.

paul takes a moment. he stares at you, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. "okay," he finally says. his smile takes over the lower half of his face. "then i can touch you, and you have to focus, okay?"

you nod.

paul slinks his hand up your back, over your shoulder, and cups your cheek. he intertwines your fingers, your hands still suspended in the air, and he moves just a bit closer until his lips finally lay onto yours.

#&. paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #timothee chalamet x reader #&. chats

181 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years

Note

jade hi!!! i have an idea for shy reader. im thinkin eddie x shy reader and maybe corroded coffin has kind of blown up? like maybe they’re on tour or just an occasional big stadium gig. but r always comes even tho she is like very sound sensitive (do u hear me projecting) it is not her space at all but she still comes for him <3 like soundchecks and things she has like earplugs in but is still the most proud gf. idk!!! lov u

hi!!!! love u i hope this was a req cos I took it as one!! sound sensitive and shy reader with rockstar eddie is a seemingly unlikely pair but so cute!! fem!reader♡ suggestive

Eddie says you can sit wherever you like during soundcheck, whether that be sidestage, by the barrier, up in the VIP section balcony, or even just plain centre stage with him and the boys. Which is ridiculous because you'll definitely be in the way if you do, but he has awfully convincing reasoning.

"I'm gonna marry you," he says succinctly. "If people aren't used to seeing you by my hip by now they will be eventually."

So you don't go sit up on the balcony. You're also not gonna entertain his silly ideas, sitting neatly in a fold out sidestage with your ear plugs in, ear defenders in your lap. Eddie has assured you time and time again that nobody is gonna judge you for wearing them, they're not foreign to people in show business, but you can't make yourself unless the music is extremely loud.

You scratch at one of the cans and watch Eddie run his hands up the neck of Sweetheart the third, looking odd in his hoodie and sweatpants.

He has a complex about your 'giving up your dream' so he can chase his. And sure, you have ambitions, there are a thousand things you want to do, but none have ever felt as present to you as music is to him. Well, besides being his girl. You don't under evaluate the happiness you've found with Eddie, the late late nights and the early mornings, moments stolen between flights and buses and shows and interviews. It's all worth it to be with him and see his wicked smile during shows.

His smile isn't nearly so electric right now. He's got his eyebrows scrunched up, picking at strings and apologising and then rescinding his apology when somebody rags on him.

They start to play the crowd pleasers and you turn to your book, humming with your leg tapping to the rhythm. You get lost for a while and don't notice when the music fades away, nor when Eddie comes to stand in front of you.

You can vaguely hear voices, so you look up, and when you find Eddie as close as he is you jump. He reaches out with two panicked hands and plants them against your hiked shoulders.

"Just me," he says, or mouths, one hand moving to your ear. He pulls an earplug free carefully.

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly.

He gets all cuddly, hand curled around your earplug and arm around your neck. His mouth is a heat over your forehead as he lays kisses from temple to temple, chest rumbling with a pleased sigh.

"Plugs are doing their job," he says.

You twist your hands into the front of his hoodie where he's leaning over you, unsurprised by his affection. He's always like this.

"You don't have to stay if it's too loud."

It's really loud. "It's alright."

You feel his lips curve into a smile. "No," he says, pulling back quick to cradle your cheeks. "It's loud. I was thinking, maybe you should take a break tonight. Stay at the hotel."

You don't get offended, though insecurity rears it's head for a split second. Why doesn't he want me at the show? It's gone as quickly as it came, dissolved by his concerned eyes.

A break would be nice. You love to be here and to support him but the constant sound is overwhelming, and it builds up until you're wiped of energy.

"Stay home, watch a movie," — he leans in, lips quirked into a knowing smile — "what kind of movie's up to you."

"Eddie," you murmur pleadingly, turning in your seat to make sure no one's listening.

He shushes you and dips down until his mouth is near your ear, hands holding you in place. "We need some inspiration, don't you think?"

You're melting. "Eddie, please." Don't do this here.

"Yeah, just like that," he murmurs.

You push him forcibly away from you and glare at his giggling, his slight bend at the waist and his hand pressed to his stomach.

"Jerk."

"I'm serious about taking a break," he says as his laughter tapers off. He licks his lips. "It'll be tough but I can make it through one night without you."

"Night?"

"Show," he amends, leaning down with a pout.

You give him a faux-reluctant peck.

"Definitely not the whole night. You better still be there when I get back," he warns.

You will be. You open your arms expectantly for a proper hug though you can't bring yourself to ask, and lucky you, Eddie collapses down into your chest smelling clean and familiar. He's warm. There's an inherent excitement that comes with being loved like this, the evidence of his affection in his adoring hands as they rub your back and the corner of his smile against your cheek.

"Not going anywhere," you murmur. His arms get that little bit tighter.

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #rockstar!eddie munson #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff

889 notes · View notes

luffyvace · 4 months

Text

Izuku x male reader

This is fluff so it’s gonna be sweet but don’t expect only “cute baby Izuku 🥺” bc I’m writing accurate to canon him/manga him 😜

(Your a UA student in class 1A for these<3)

Izuku’s Love languages are acts of service and quality time

even though quality time sometimes get scarce because class A is hectic

its called quality time not quantity time

Its about how you spend your time together, not always how much

although I will say you make as much time for each other as possible

you guys train, eat, nap, jog, watch tv/videos together

And of course make lots and lots of jokes

you two have so many inside jokes class A doesn’t understand 😂

It fine you don’t explain it, it’s funnier that way

he does you lots of favors for acts of service

you really don’t even have to tell him!

its the little stuff like, cleaning up a mess for you, getting your jacket when he knows your going out, reminding you about tests and to study!

which on that topic you two study together when you can

but izuku is really busy and spends a lot of energy in the day

As we saw in some episodes he goes to sleep as soon as he makes it in his room

but he does his best!

your likely busy too! Like I said UA is pretty hectic

Even though he has a lot on his plate, he makes time for you

he does lots of little things for your relationship

weekly mental check ins where you sit down and talk/vent or chatter if the week has gone good

video game marathons/competitions

going out to events together likes pop up festivals

buying each other clothes spontaneously

(oops this is coming off really gn let’s switch it up<3)

when izuku realized he was in love with a male..

it made no difference

No fr mha is modern enough to have the clock app why wouldn’t this kinda thing be normal

he might not have realized he was bi before you though

originally he thought he was straight bc he always got flustered around girls

but when you came around and made him feel way more nervous than any girl ever had??

yeah you know that bi panic meme?

he got a slap of that

💥💥

Homophobes is not the worst he’s run into tbh so now that he stands up for himself, he will stand up for you and your relationship as well!

he doesn’t really have the best roasts or whatever but he certainly doesn’t let them get away with it!

forget them tbh let’s move on to a more wholesome topic 💗

Meeting inko!!

when she found out you were a guy she raised her eyebrows then slowly smiled

she was 100% supportive!!

izuku wasn’t really hesitant about telling her or anything because he knew his mother isnt judgemental

when she meets you she’s ecstatic!

she makes a savory dinner and probably shares way too many adorable stories about izuku’s past

Which he gets really embarrassed and you guys end up in his room after so she can’t keep rambling

random but I also feel you and izuku also read manga together

If you like it :)

training with him is..harsh to say the least 😀

like fr no holding back for either of you

If you don’t have a combat compatible quirk this is basically a one-sided beating

only playing!

but seriously he’s letting loose

”what if this was a real battle and you were in danger?!”

”ok but..your punching me like IM the villain”

you’ll be aight 🙂

He told you about his quirk depending on how soon you two met

If you met in middle school or before he likely told you like straight away

mb all might he couldn’t keep it in

if you met in UA, However, he probably either waited a few months after you became friends or started dating

he tells you when your friends if your instant best friends but if your just the occasional “hi m/n!” Then it’s likely after you two get together

pranks.

Yes they happen.

him to you, you to him

you still teenagers after all why not?

if your feeling a silly goofy mood what better to do than surprise your partner? 😋

oddly enough, once you get close enough in the relationship, I feel he’s the one that initiated them!

you guys only do innocent little things that don’t hurt anybody, of course

annoying each other also happens

not in the actual annoyed sense

just the type where your like “BRO STOP!!” But your still smiling 😂

like idk putting one putting their feet next to the others face typa thing

again still harmless

your never really mad at each other and you always make jokes and laugh it off in the end

heroes.

how could I not talk about this?

they’re his favs!!

not to mention I hope your fav hero all might..

bc one, his room.

and two, his rants.

like you’d have to explicitly state you either have a diff fav or are just tired of the rants bc…..bro will go ON.

If I’m gonna talk about heroes gotta talk about villains too right?

so izuku tells you that he wants to save the villains

and that he sees children in them

unhealed, scarred, children.

he rants to you about this on mental check in days

and you listen, he appreciates that.

he gets the feeling no one gets him in that sense, and even if you don’t at least you hear him out!

izuku so so so loves you!

it’s super sweet that you so so so love him too 💝

Writing for izuku is so easy! I love writing for my favs bc thoughts pop out like poop :)

(LOL). No seriously I wrote this faster than expected. Hopefully I clear drafts soon so I can open requests :^

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punkassbookjockey26 · 1 year

Text

Show and Tell

Yo yo yo, waddup. It's been a while since I posted anything, and not gonna lie, I'm not even sure if this is any good. But here it is.

Thank you to @shyvioletcat for providing the inspo for this story. Although, I did take a few liberties lol.

Rating: PG? PG-13? Who knows?

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

“Alright, everyone – let’s get our listening ears on and catch a bubble in your mouth!”

Rowan Whitethorn always felt a bit silly pulling on his ears and puffing out his cheeks, but whatever got his rambunctious group of Kindergarteners to quiet down was worth it. When pursuing a degree in education, he didn’t think he wanted to be in a classroom full of five and six-year-olds, but he had such a fantastic experience while student teaching that it seemed like a waste to be anywhere else.

“Now remember, we’re doing show-and-tell today. What do we do when our friends are up here talking?”

“Listen!” A chorus of children practically yelled it at him, and he smiled widely.

“That’s right. We listen, and we pay attention to what they’re saying. Now, is there anyone that wants to go first?”

Several children shot their hands straight up in the air, but one, in particular, was practically bouncing in her seat, almost too excited about getting selected. Everly Galathynius was a very precocious child. She had an overabundance of energy and effusiveness for a five-year-old that surprised even him. He had learned early on that when she felt emotions, she felt them strongly. Happy, sad, angry, upset – it didn’t matter. It was always a production.

It wasn’t that she was a bad kid. She loved school and being around her classmates. She caught onto concepts quickly and had a bright openness that made everyone want to be her friend. She was also fiercely competitive and wanted to be first in everything, whether answering questions or being a line leader. Needless to say that Rowan was not surprised to see her tiny hand shoot up in the air.

If there was anything that Everly struggled with, it was waiting her turn. Patience was not a strong trait that she possessed, and Rowan was adamant that she learn at least some measure of it before she left his classroom. So he purposefully selected another one of her classmates to come up first and almost laughed at the enormous pout that spread across her face.

His amusement only grew when he continued to ignore her pouting and called other members of her class up to share. Everly was practically vibrating in her chair when Rowan finally decided it was her turn. He barely finished calling out her name before she sprinted to the front of the classroom with her backpack, her two blonde pigtails flying behind her.

Rowan sighed. “Everly, you know we’re not supposed to run in school.”

Her excitement didn’t even dim for a second. “I know, but I want to share!”

He supposed it was his fault for keying her up with his impromptu “lesson,” but this child was going to be the death of him. “Alright then. Go ahead.”

Everly took a deep breath and pulled out what she had brought from her backpack. “Today, I brought my mama’s favorite toy!”

Rowan quirked a skeptical eyebrow toward the young child in front of him. “Your mother has a favorite toy?”

“Yes! I found it a while ago, and she told me. She keeps it in her room and won’t let me play with it, even though I ask really nice. But today, I found it in the bathroom!”

Everly dug through her bag as Rowan had a brief moment of clarity. But before he could reach the front and stop, she displayed the item she had brought high above her head like a trophy.

It was a vibrator.

A hot pink, glittery vibrator.

And Rowan was now in hell.

“Okay, that’s enough now, Everly!” Rowan exclaimed hastily. “Thank you for sharing! Let’s go ahead and put that away now!”

Everly took a step back and pouted. “But you let Declan share! I wanna share!”

Rowan stepped in front of her, blocking the view of the class. “You did share, Everly. And now it’s time for you to put it away.”

“No! I waited forever, and now I want to share! Please let me share!” She was near tears, and Rowan knew he had about two seconds to solve this before he had a full-on meltdown on his hands. He was quite unsure how to handle the situation, though. It wasn’t like they taught him this in undergrad. But he needed to remove the... object from his classroom, stat.

He hesitated, and Everly took full advantage immediately, darting to the opposite side of the classroom, still holding the vibrator above her head. “I didn’t even get to show the best part!”

Oh, dear god.

A loud buzzing noise filled the classroom, and his students were suddenly very interested in what Everly had in her hands. His students crowded around her, excited to see her new “toy.” Rowan forced himself through the throng to reach the perpetrator of the insanity, deftly plucking the offending object from her hands.

There was a moment of stunned silence before all hell broke loose in his classroom.

------

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose, running through what he would say to a Ms. Aelin Galathynius about why he needed to speak with her urgently regarding her daughter. He hadn’t met her yet if he remembered correctly. Everly and her mother were noticeably absent at the parent night a few weeks back, and she hadn’t responded to any of the previous requests he sent out to meet. It was exceptionally bad luck that their first meeting would be him discussing how her daughter managed to get ahold of a vibrator and bring it to school.

Everly sat dutifully in the corner, her eyes cast down on the floor and her blonde pigtails hanging limply off her head. Realistically, he knew he shouldn’t punish Everly. She was five and couldn’t possibly know her item was inappropriate or how it was used. But that didn’t negate that Rowan now had to talk to a woman he had never met about her masturbatory aids.

They sat in uncomfortable silence until Rowan heard the sharp unmistakable clacking of heels hitting the tile floors outside his classroom. The door pushed open, and while he hadn’t known what to expect, he hadn’t expected an impossibly gorgeous golden-haired woman dressed in an impeccable business suit glaring at him with anger scorching hot.

“Is there a reason you’re holding my daughter hostage, Mr. Whitethorn?”

Her hands were placed on her hips, her full lips downturned in a deep frown, and Rowan couldn’t help but be stunned by the fiery woman standing before him. He almost forgot why he needed to speak with her, but he quickly regained composure when it became apparent that she was surveying him like a lioness ready to pounce.

Rowan cleared his throat and came to greet her. “Ms. Galathynius, thank you for coming today. I need just a moment of your time to speak about what happened with Everly in class today.”

“Is she in trouble?” The blonde quirked her eyebrow at him.

“Well…no, not exactly.” Rowan flushed, rubbing his hand behind his neck.

“Was she hurt? Did you allow someone to bully her?”

Anger flared inside him. “Excuse me, Ms. Galathynius, but seeing as you have never met with me or really know anything about what happens in this classroom, I resent the accusation that you think I would ever allow any child to be bullied.”

She rolled her eyes, dismissing his anger. “Okay, well, if she’s not in trouble, hurt, or being bullied, why are you wasting my time?”

Rowan felt the indignation surge at the audacity of this woman. “ I didn’t realize that your daughter’s well-being was a waste of your time. Perhaps I should have called her father instead to help with this matter.”

Rowan visibly saw her shoulders tense. “He wouldn’t have cared, just like he didn’t care when he chose to walk out of her life four years ago to make a brand new family with his brand new wife.”

Her venomous admission momentarily stunned Rowan as she stared him down, and he felt some of the anger filter out of him. Regardless of the situation, he needed to understand why he had asked her to meet. “Ms. Galathynius, I apologize for that comment. It was uncalled for –

“You’re damn right it was.”

“- However, I do need to discuss with you the nature of Everly’s show-and-tell contribution today.”

She sighed deeply, and Rowan watched all the anger drain from her lithe body. “Alright, then. What happened during show-and-tell today?”

Rowan paused a moment before walking back to his desk. He pulled open the top drawer and gestured to the offending object, now stashed in a Ziploc bag and lying on a stack of papers.

He watched as Ms. Galathynius lifted an eyebrow in suspicion before rounding his desk to peer at what he was trying to show her. Her color completely drained as she took in the pink, glittery vibrator nestled inside the drawer. She looked back up at him with shocked eyes, a heavy silence hanging in the air.

Rowan wondered how long it would take for someone to break the silence. He had been mortified knowing that he would need to have this conversation. And although it hadn’t started out quite the way he had planned, he wanted to spare Everly’s mother the indignity of shoving her personal private life back in her face.

Ms. Galathynius stepped back, and Rowan noted the bright red heat of embarrassment creeping up her neck. She turned towards her daughter, clearing her throat. “Everly Grace, can you come here for a moment, please?”

Rowan watched as Everly gingerly slid out of her chair and shuffled towards her mother. She looked up with wide eyes lined with tears, and it broke Rowan’s heart. She hadn’t been in trouble with him, not really, but he couldn’t explain why he had to take her ‘toy’ away and why she couldn’t keep showing it to the class. The tantrum that ensued had been nothing short of legendary.

Her mother cleared her throat. “Everly, love, can you tell mama why you took her…um… special toy to school today?”

Everly perked up a bit, smiling at her mother. “I heard you talking about how much you like it with Auntie Lys the other day!”

The red on her face deepened, and Rowan stifled a laugh. Everly’s mother continued. “And you know you’re not supposed to go into mama’s room without permission, right?”

The brightness on her daughter’s face dimmed. “I know, mama, but I really, really wanted to share it because you said you like it so much! I like sharing my toys, too!”

Rowan couldn’t help it. A snort escaped him at the exchange, and Everly’s mother glared in his direction. Despite the hell this child had put him through today, her absolute innocence in the situation was damn near comical. And if he weren’t so embarrassed about the position he and her mother were now in, he likely would have laughed when it happened.

It sure explained a few things, though.

Her mother sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Sweetie, can you please wait right outside the door? I need to speak with your teacher alone. Just wait right there, and I’ll be out in a minute.”

The second the door shut behind Everly, Ms. Galathynius snatched her vibrator from the drawer and stuffed it deep in her purse. She turned to look at him, her hands back on her hips but with a noticeable flush still lingering on her skin.

“So, I suppose this is the part where I apologize for being a pill, but seeing as my child has embarrassed me enough today, I’m not going to.”

There was a beat of silence before both of them burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, I had no idea what to do with your child today, Ms. Galathynius. She ran around the room, waving it above her head like a flag. She even managed to turn it on, and that was a whole thing by itself.”

Everly’s mother wiped tears away from her eyes as her laughter died down. “Please, call me Aelin. And I swear, I had no idea she snuck into my room this morning. She told me that she was bringing her doll today. Serves me right for trusting my child.”

“Oh, so you know how your child behaves sometimes?” Rowan smirked down at her, and she rolled her eyes, albeit playfully this time.

“Would you believe me if I told you she got it from her father?”

Rowan pretended to think about it for a moment. “After meeting you today? Absolutely not.”

He smiled widely at her, and she returned it with a grin, momentarily stunning him for the second time that day. It transformed her whole demeanor. Gone was the stubborn mother who accused him of allowing her child to be bullied. Instead, Rowan had a beautiful woman standing before him, with hair spun like silk and bright turquoise eyes ringed in gold.

Clearing his throat, he stepped back away from Aelin just to get some distance. “Just one question, though.”

Aelin cocked her head to the side. “What’s that?”

“Grace? Really?”

Aelin's answering laugh drew him right back in. "I was hoping she would take after her name, but here we are."

She smiled at him again, and walked out the door to his classroom. Rowan felt himself warm with that smile, and watched as the door slid shut, wondering if he would ever have a chance to see her again.

----------

Tag List:

@faerie-queen-fireheart

@1islessthan3books

@superspiritfestival

@jesstargaryenqueen

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@morganofthewildfire

@chieflemming

@swankii-art-teacher

@rowaelinismyotp

@mariamuses

@booknerdproblems

@story-scribbler

@whoever-you-choose-to-love

@nehemikkele

@thegreyj

@livsdriverslicense

@elentiyawhitethorn

@highqueenofelfhame

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowaelin court #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin and rowan #aelin x rowan #modern au #songfic #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog #fanfic #fanfiction #pabj26writing

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fertilize-my-eggs · 2 years

Text

"First time for everything huh?"

Paired: dabi x chubby fem! Reader smut

*I know this was few days ago. I've been soo busy* but thanks you @queenkhepri for the request !! It's gonna be very sweet and soft love-making hope you don't mind😋💦

Hope y'all enjoy!! WARINGS: soft smut 18+ minors n ageless blogs DNI.

Warnings: lot of petnames + bodyworship + little fatphobic but murder involve >:D + both losing v-cards + soft love-making and bit rough at the end.

You made a loud yelp being pushed up aganist the hard wall."please don't hurt me.."

You look up to see two big male criminals looking at you with disgust and maliciously.

You couldn't do anything about it, you're a quirkless individual and you happen to be at the wrong place wrong time.

"Shut up worthless fat cow.. We're want something from ya." You cry out as his sidekick pull your hair hard, tears coming down your face. You were about to ask them a question until you heard a deep raspy chuckle close by.

"Well well that's no way to treat a lady." You turn to your side to a man that's look to be criminal as well, you close your eyes hoping he's good man.

"Oi piss off, we're in the middl-.." In a flash he's pull you out of their way to the side and onto the dirty ground. You whimper out as you cover your whole body in fear.

You heard some yells and painful screams then silence.. You slowly open your eyes to see some blue flames and bodies being burned to a crisp.

You watched the man use his quirk to save you.

"Thank you for saving me..." You slowly get up and brush the dirt off of you, he turn towards you with a warm smile.

"No problem doll." You look down to blush deep red, he's quite handsome not gonna lie.

You tuck your hair behind your ear and smile.

"what's your name?" He come towards you and lean in.

"The name is dabi sweetheart."

And that how's it all start at first you had no clue why he always so nice and sweet toward you. You thought that was it from dabi saving you from those people but he always make sure you were safe, always walk close by whenever you go out shopping or to the store for groceries.

And that's when he pull you close and ask you to be his girlfriend.

You were shock at first but you said yes to him.

The first date where you and dabi went to a nice bar, he's talks about his job while meeting his boss and the gang.. Yeah no you didn't realized they're were a group of villains but dabi trust you enough not to tell plus they're were pretty nice people.

After that's chaotic dated, you invite your lovely boyfriend at your house for more drinks.

He's ask for a nice cold beer and you walk into the kitchen, dabi has been in your house few times but now that you two are dating he's had the energy of own the place.

You grab a beer, get some red wine as you walk back to where dabi at.

You see him relaxed on your soft queen-size bed as you give his drink as you sat next to him as you sip your wine.

You sigh softly enjoy the calm atmosphere.

You turn towards him, give him a silly smile.

"What's with the face doll?" His eyebrow rise as he chuckle.

"Ooohh nothing honey.. I got an idea." You hiccup as the alcohol is kicking in.

His sapphire eye looks at yours as he wait for your answer.

"I was thinking *hiccup* if you could play with my nipples." You look away and begin to giggle for few mintues knowing it's was a drunk joke.

There was a long pause as you finally look at him, the atmosphere changed it's heavy, heated.

You can tell he's wants you and the way his eyes guide your body all over making you feel the heat.

"... Yes I want to.. If you let's me dollface." You can tell he wants.. No need this. Your soft hands lock hold of his as you lean in.

"Please do.. Make love to me." His hands pull yours to his lips as he's begin to kiss it.

It's was soft and tender with each kiss getting softer each time.

He remove his hands to dance on your cover body as he lay on top of you.

He grabs the end of your shirt and asked. "may I?" You turn to the side with blush.

"Yes please dabi."

You grab his wrist nerously as you look up at him.

"I-I never done this with anyone to be honest." You turn your head away to feel embarrassed.

There was other pause but you felt his hand move your head back to look at him.

"First time for everything huh?" You can feel your cheeks turn red but did a small nod.

His smirk grow big then lean in and whisper.

"Me too, I'll try my best to make you feel good." He's nip your ear.

"Let's me know if I'm doing right princess."

You couldn't trust your voice so you nod your head again, dabi take your shirt pulls it up and off your body.

You close your eyes realized you didn't wear a bra, you hear a deep groan and the feel of his fingertips touch your soft skin.

"You're beautiful... Too fuckin' sexy." He lean in to kiss your round belly then slowly up to your chest, you let's out a moan of his name as he begin to lick and toy with your nipples.

Your fingers grab hold of his charcoal black locks, pulling it gentle.

"It's feels good d-dabi.." You whimper out as your hips begin to roll up as you now realize you can feel his cover hard-on.

You cry out as his mouth pull your nipple a bit hard but sucking more, you look down to see his bright blue eyes turn dark and more lustfilled.

He pulls back to remove more of your clothing, you grab his shirt too as the clothes throw to the side.

Now you and him are in your underwears as you look up with small smile.

"Can I remove yours and you can remove mine?" He nod his head let's you go first.

You grab the black boxer to pull down, his cock flop out as you begin to drool.. He's so pretty... And big too you were getting a bit nerous but he's grab your chin and kiss you passionately.

"It's okay baby, I'll get you nice and wet.." He groan out." So don't worry it's will fit."

You weren't able to reaction in time as he quickly pull your panties out and threw it in random part of the room.

He's grab your thick thighs up as he dive into your most sensitive area, your eyes roll back cry out.

His pierced tongue roll your clit so heavenly you never felt like this, for an inexperience oral you can said he's a pro!!

He's a natural at this, you rised your back up and let out moans for your lover. His large hands caress your body and every bit of it.

You can hear his heavy groans and loud slurping echo in your small room.

The vibrations on your clit makes you hit your high very quick, you cry out his name as your hips roll his face.

His eyes look up with a drunk expression."mhmm fuck that's was hot." His fingers pull your lips gently apart as he get to look at it.

"I can eat you out all day dollface.. Let's try fingers next.. I gotta stretch you out so you can take this cock." You look down at his red-tip cock twitching with excitement and pre-cum leak out.

You gasp out as you felt his finger go inside your entrance."Fuck.. You're tight." He groan out, his single finger move in and out at slow pace.

You roll your hips back at the same pace but you want more."Can you add more fingers.. Please dabi." He chuckle softly as second finger slide in your tight wall.

Your moans were turning him on more, the sweet mewls and whines make him go fast but not to fast to hurt you.

Few mintues goes by as he remove the soaked fingers as he's move it to your lips.

"Suck." You obey as you begin lick his fingers tasting your sweet juicy while you were sucking it, his other hand grab his base just to tap your entrance.

You gasp loudly by how's heavy it is, you can tell he's has few piercings."are you ready doll?" He's remove his fingers to let you speak.

"I-..." You look into his eyes then down at his dick for a bit. "I'm ready but be gentle okay?" His hands intertwine with yours as he give a sweet smile.

"Yeah don't worry babydoll." At first he try to roll his lean hips to yours but his dick slip and slide. It's very clumsy at first until his tip penetrates your hole. Your eyes close tight never felt anything like this.

Make a high-pitch squeak as you hold his hands more, he stop to put his thumb on your cheeks.

"It's okay... Just relax for me princess, it's will feel good." He groan out long and low.

You nod your head, your velvet walls letting him inside more, you feel his hips roll back and foward with each slow gentle thrusts.

You open your eyes to look at his warm expression then slowly move down to his muscular abdomen flexing each time he's roll forward.

Your thighs wrap around his waist pulling him close to you.

"You can move more baby.. Ahh it's feels.. Fuck! It's feels amazing." Your eyes roll back.

Dabi thrust a bit faster but not hard, his head rolls back to let's out a animalistic growls. His mismatch hands grab your supple soft thighs tight leaving his mark.

His balls slap aganist your ass loud, his thrust hitting all the right places. You can feel his piercings slide in and out of your little hole fast.

Then you felt hot and heavy liquid fill your inside, your eyes wided in shocked.

Did he just... He calls out your name as he reach his high, his body goes stiff feeling more of his load pumps inside your virgin wall.

He look up at you with a smirk, you were confused until he pull out and manhandle you to lay on your stomach, he give a good slammed in your cum fill hole.

You cry out as his hips move inhuman speed making you drool out and tears leak out.

His fingers lock together with yours as you begin to reach your second orgasm.

The cry of his name as he nips your neck giving some love bite in their awake.

Dabi grab your hair to give rough tugs but not too painful.

"Love ya' like this, too sexy.." He's groan out as he's reached his end too.

He roll off of you pants heavy, you look at him with sleepy expression. After few mintues of silence until dabi speak up.

"Shit... I forgot to put a condom on."

#anime #bnha #mha #fanfic #minors dni #dabi #smut #x reader #dabi x female reader #chubby reader #quirkless reader #first time #lose v-cards #virgin dabi x reader

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alby-rei · 2 months

Text

Comte's Ghost Mansion (IkeVamp; Luig's Mansion AU) Part 4

a/n: What do you mean this silly ghost AU has LORE??? What will you do against a playful ghost who can split himself into multiples? Only one way to find out! Happy reading~ ✨

Tags: Humor, Crack treated seriously, Luigi’s Mansion AU, Spooky scary spectral vampires, Ghostbuster MC Word Count: ~1900 words Characters: You, Sebastian, Ghost!Arthur Previous: Part 3 Next: Part 5

~*~

You returned to Sebastian, retelling the events of your incursion. The rain had stopped by now and the clouds parted. He scrawled furiously in his notebook, like your words were made of gold. You expected him to be mad at you for capturing a couple of his esteemed residents.

“While I should be, I’m more impressed that you succeeded at all. They’ll be fine. Keep up the good work.”

He took the Poltergust off your shoulders.

“I suppose an explanation is in order,” he said.

“About time, yeah.”

“Follow me.”

Sebastian ushered you into the garden shed. It was a lot bigger than its exterior suggested. Sebastian unlocked a compartment at the bottom of the machine. Two portrait paintings emerged, one for each captured resident. The musician maintained the scowl he wore upon capture while the trapeze artist smiled ear to ear with his eyes closed.

“He’s a writer actually,” Sebastian corrected you regarding the latter.

“A clown-ish one,” you added.

Sebastian chuckled. “It’s part of his charm. Come, I made you some food. You must be starving.”

“Yes, please!”

He asked for your choice of beverage, impressing you with the variety he listed. Alongside it, he brought you some bread, cheese, and a handful of washed grapes.

“I grew them myself in this garden,” said Sebastian, referring to the grapes.

You thanked him for the food. While nowhere near a full meal, it regained some of your energy.

“How long till the sunrise?” You asked.

“Not for another six hours or so.”

This was going to be a long night.

A yawn escaped past your lips, but you had no desire to sleep. You returned the conversation to the portrait paintings. Sebastian explained that the residents weren’t originally ghosts, but some mysterious event caused their spirits to roam at night.

One of the residents, a bright-minded inventor, built the Poltergust 1899 to take care of that. As the only unaffected human, it was Sebastian’s job to capture them, lest they escaped the mansion and never returned.

Every night, Sebastian patrolled the halls. And every morning, he placed the portrait painting above their bed to return the spirit to its vessel. When the residents woke up, they retained no memory of their ghostly wandering.

“And what made you think it was okay to put me in harm’s way?” You said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Harm? They won’t hurt you. Unless you disturbed them in some way, like I had specifically instructed you not to.”

You mumbled some excuse, but Sebastian was not convinced. What you had not noticed before were the dark circles under his eyes. Fighting off those ghosts was not so terrible, you persuaded yourself, and you had nothing else to do for the next six sleepless hours. It was kind of fun, in a strange way. A far departure from your regular life. And if it all turned out to be a dream, you wanted to see it through till the end.

After a good while of rest, you asked Sebastian to hand over the refueled Poltergust.

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re willing to go back in?”

“You, sir, still need to find me a way home. But until then, I’ll take care of it.”

He thanked you profusely and became quite animated. Upon seeing your shocked face, he pardoned his excitement and returned to his stoic self.

To ease your journey, he replaced the residents’ belongings in your pouch with a master key and a map.

You decided to explore the west wing this time. The first unlocked door revealed a massive library with aisles of bookshelves on two floors.

You’ve come to realize that everything in this mansion was so…grand. No wonder the butler looked tired. If he held sole responsibility for the whole manor’s upkeep, of course he would jump at the opportunity to enlist your help.

Walking by the bookshelves, your bookworm heart could not help but inspect the titles of each aisle. Most of them were written in French, some were in English, and the rest were new to you.

Something skittered down from the ceiling. It was a colony of cotton-like creatures with little bat wings and dotted black eyes. You waved the tube of the Poltergust at them, but they weren't affected by your presence. They seemed harmless. Cute, even.

"There you are, Sebas!" A voice called out behind you.

You tried to turn around, but you could not move, as though you were tied up. "Oh dear, you're not Sebastian at all." The voice lilted, sounding amused rather than disappointed.

"Let me go!" You wiggled as hard as you could. As you did, the invisible rope around you took shape as two tweed-covered arms.

"Easy there, dove. It wouldn't do for a pretty bird to injure itself in its haste."

You pushed your elbows as far back as you could; you just needed to reach the switch on the machine.

"Where are my manners? The name's Arthur, mystery writer at your service, but you can call me anytime." He winked.

Another writer, another clown. But some things were better left unsaid, you reminded yourself. You implored him again to release you.

“Humor me, why don’t you? I’ve been deprived of good company for so long.” You could practically see his pouty lips and puppy-dog eyes matching his tone. “Oh, I’ve got it! Let’s play a game, shall we?”

He let you go. Just as before, when you reached for the doorknob, it was locked. You readied your Poltergust 1899, bracing yourself for whatever he may throw at you.

When you turned back around, there were three of him. Three separate, identical copies of him. They all wore the same blue three-piece suit with a loose tie, just as they all wore the same cheeky grin.

“Turning your back in a duel may prove a fatal mistake, my dear,” said one of them. “But I am nothing if not a gentle-ghost. Here’s how this game works: Only one of us is the real Arthur. If you can catch the real me, you win. If you catch one of my clones, we get to play again.”

A one-in-three shot at nabbing the right one. Not the worst odds, you reckon, but choose incorrectly and you may find yourself stuck here way longer than your patience would allow. You had no negotiation power in the matter.

“Fine, I’ll play your little game.”

The three ghosts beamed excitedly, zipping around with incredible speed. They roamed freely in and out of the bookshelves. Every now and then, they would look back at you, like puppies making sure their master was still playing along.

It was one thing to play spot-the-difference when hovered side-by-side, it was another thing entirely when they were zooming around like children riding out a sugar rush. There must be some way to slow them down, you thought.

Your first attempt was to brute force it—aim at the nearest one and see what happens. You caught one on his path out of a bookshelf, but a well-timed levitating book took the hit and blocked the vacuum tube, allowing him to escape. It was a copy of ‘A Study in Scarlet’.

“Cheeky,” he lilted. “But I won’t go easy on you. Unless you could offer me something enticing in return.”

With every word he uttered, your desire to put him in his place only rose.

More books were pulled out of their stations to shield the frivolous phantoms. You tried to move them out of the way, similar to how you did with the violins, but these books were too light and stuck to your tube instantly. There was not enough resistance to redirect their course.

You needed a way to shoot them far enough to secure a capture.

You leaned against a bookshelf between the aisles to catch your breath. You had been running around with little success. Seeing you dispirited, the flirtatious triplets hovered around you, leaning out of the bookshelves with arms crossed.

“Well, this is no fun,” said the first in front of you.

“How about a hint?” said the second to your right.

“And a prize for your efforts!” said the third to your left.

While they chatted over ‘prize’ ideas, you look at each one properly. There actually were some differences between them. One of them, floating in front of you, pushed up his square-frame glasses, and you wondered if it had always been there. The one to your left wore a golden earring at the top of his right ear. It did not seem incorporeal like the rest of him. Like he wore it specifically for the occasion. The last one wore gloves of midnight black.

The earring bearer spoke next, “I can confidently tell you that I’m not the real Arthur.”

The one wearing gloves added, “In fact, he’s the real Arthur.” He pointed at the glasses-wearing ghost.

“Me?!” The accused shot back. “I say that’s a bold-faced lie!”

“And the best part,” said the third. “Only one of us is telling the truth. Good luck!”

And they were back to their zooming selves. The machine weighed you down the longer it remained on your back. It’s low rumble went from soothing to distracting as you tried to think.

If the second one is telling the truth…then the first one is lying.

There was also the issue of the troublesome books that each one kept near and dear. You kept trying anyway. Each book that you caught was replaced by another. Half of the bookshelves were emptied by now. You wondered if there was a limit to their range. All the while, the frivolous phantoms observed your strategy with intrigue.

But if the first is lying, then there would be two real Arthurs. A contradiction.

The glasses-wearing one had a tendency to loop like an infinite symbol, like his course was predefined. The earring bearer always stayed in your vision, but just out of reach.

On the other hand, if the second is lying… then the glasses-wearer was telling the truth.

Another book obscured your aim. A copy of Bram Stoker’s ‘Dracula’. In your frustration, you reversed the strength dial a little too far, and it shot the book up onto the second floor of the library.

And if that’s the case, then the first is lying, too. It’s worth a shot.

“Hey! That was one of my favorites,” said the earring-bearing ghost. He turned to fly after it, and that’s when your opportunity arose.

It must be you!

With a strong conviction, you cranked up the strength of the Poltergust and aimed at the retreating ghost.

“Looks like turning your back was your fatal mistake, sir.”

As soon as his tail was caught in the machine, the other two phantoms vanished in a show of smoke.

You heard something clank against the floor. It was the golden earring, and beside it was a little treasure chest. Inside it was a brilliant blue gem, and a message saying, ‘Best two out of three?’

You rolled your eyes, trying your best to push down the smile that made your cheeks hurt. The click of the library door signaled that it was unlocked again. You sighed with relief and made your way down the hall to the next target with Sebastian’s map as your guide.

~*~

Tagging: @starlitmanor-network

Back to Masterlist

#ikevamp arthur #ikevamp arthur x reader #ikemen vampire #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire arthur conan doyle #ikevamp writing #arthur x reader #arthur x mc #arthur x you #starlitmanornetwork #alby rei #ghost mansion au #luigi's mansion au #ghostbuster mc #spooky scary sparkly vamps

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soloorganaas · 1 year

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hi!!

i’d love to know about petty oneshot and the prof au please!!<3

hey kat!! ty for your ask, these are some of my fave fics 🥰

prof au is my shorthand for right back where we started from before i'd decided on a name😌 as i have a lot to say about the second fic i'll keep it short - it's a PoA au set in a world where sirius fled with harry to california in october 1981, and raised him there without ever contacting remus again. he comes back to hogwarts at the beginning of harry's third year to keep an eye on him seeing as people keep trying to kill him and dumbledore's doing fuck all about it teach law and ethics and low and behold.... who is also teaching at hogwarts this year....

petty oneshot is a fic @impishtubist bullied me into writing a while ago which i started writing then Life happened and i stopped writing for like a month and didn't finish it. but its a combo of petty anti-remadora fun (hence the name), harry learning to be an animagus, and sirius being a super famous ex-convict who constantly embarrasses his godson. its fun and silly and 💕 petty 💕 and i will absolutely finish it at some point

i bring to you (and imp) the humble offering of this snippet:

“Britain’s sexiest bachelor,” Remus said in a deeply amused voice, glancing up from the newspaper to raise an eyebrow at Sirius.

He smirked, digging out another segment of the grapefruit in front of him.

“What can I say Moony? It’s my rebellious, ex-convict charm. The public are enamoured.”

“Apparently so.”

They held each other's gazes for a moment, a crackle of electricity passing between them.

“I suppose you’re quite in demand,” Remus said mildly and glanced away to sip his tea. “As you’re such an eligible bachelor.”

Sirius’s lips quirked with a dangerous smile at the undercurrent in Remus’s voice. He cocked his head, surveying him with interest.

“Perhaps you want to stake your claim.”

Remus’s eyes held a mischievous sparkle. “I’m not too concerned.”

Heavy footsteps sounded from across the cottage and they looked up to see Harry appearing at the bottom of the stairs, hair somehow even more of a mess than usual and shrugging a satchel up onto his shoulder.

“You ready?” he asked them, walking over to the kitchen neatly marked off from the rest of the room by a tall, slightly splintered beam and the scrubbed wooden table where Sirius and Remus were currently sat.

“Just finishing breakfast,” Sirius told him, wrestling with another segment of grapefruit.

Harry tugged the satchel up his shoulder again, full of nervous energy.

“The shops won’t run out of ingredients, don’t worry,” Sirius reassured him.

“Here, Harry. Look at this,” Remus said, picking up the Prophet and handing it over. “Sirius is gracing the front cover again.”

Harry let out a moan of despair. “Oh my god,” he said, burying his face in his hand. Sirius grinned.

“Hey, you should be proud! Famous godfather.”

“Yeah, but famous like this!”

Remus chuckled, finishing his tea and getting up from the table. “Harry has to face the brunt of the public’s obsession with you, remember Pads.”

“This is all anyone’s gonna be talking about at school now,” Harry muttered, dropping the newspaper down on the kitchen counter.

Sirius scoffed. “I doubt that.”

He shot Remus a smile as he reached over to grab their plates, brushing his thigh affectionately as Remus moved back towards the sink.

“They’re all fucking in love with you!”

Remus chuckled as he passed Harry. “I sympathise, Harry. He was like this at school too.”

“Oi! It’s not like I was encouraging it – I was bloody obsessed with you for most of it!”

“I’m offended at the idea you’re not now.”

“Can we please get going,” Harry said, closing his eyes for a moment in embarrassment.

Sirius clapped his hands in excitement, jumping up from the table. “Today’s the day, Prongslet! Beginning of a beautiful journey.”

Harry grinned, leaning into his half-hug as Sirius headed over to the small hallway to grab his cloak.

“Hopefully a much shorter one than Sirius and your father’s,” Remus mused, tugging on his shoes.

“He’ll be an animagus in no time,” Sirius said confidently. “I’m passing on my expertise.”

Harry went to wait outside, almost bouncing on his toes with excitement, and Sirius paused to slide an arm around Remus’s waist and lean into his ear.

“I’m still obsessed with you now,” he told him in a low voice.

Remus hummed happily. “See… I said I had nothing to be concerned about.”

#wolfstar #asks #i fucking love married wolfstar raising harry so much #fam: christmas gift #hp

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 2 years

Text

Imagine Trying to Cheer Nanaue up With a Makeover:

A/N: I love Nanaue/King Shark from The Suicide Squad very much and I haven’t written an imagine in forever, so here’s a silly thing I came up with at like 2am a couple of nights ago. Also Reader is a part of the Suicide Squad in this so... yeah. Also, this was beta read but it was beta read at 5am so... yeah, lol.

“Do you think he ever gets bored of like… just wearing jeans?”

Cleo stopped staring out of the bus’s window to glance down at you slumped against her shoulder, then to where Nanaue was sitting across the aisle pouting. She looked back at you and after a moment gave a low-energy shrug. “I don’t know, I don’t think he seems to mind. He’s probably more upset about the fake moustache.”

Poor Nanaue, not being allowed to join the rest of Task Force X-slash-the Suicide Squad in the gentlemen’s club to find the Thinker. Your skills on the team included using technology to make realistic illusions that would have dealt with the “King Shark doesn’t have a feasible disguise” problem that DuBois and Rick were using to keep Nanaue out of the public eye but when you offered up the suggestion, you were shut down by the secondary issue of the demigod seeing every living creature as food. So there you were, feeling bad that Nanaue couldn’t join the fun as the bus slowly pulled up to the club.

“Well, guess it’s time,” Cleo commented at you. She lightly shrugged and you moved off of her so she could place Sebastian on her shoulder instead. Then she stood up and adjusted the dress she was wearing as her own disguise.

Sebastian gave you a cheerful wave and squeak as he passed and you smiled and gave him a quick head pat in return. You however made no other move to prepare to leave the bus, which had Cleo quirking an eyebrow at you and shooing you to move so she could get past.

“I don’t think I’m going to go,” you said as you pulled your legs up onto the chair and wriggled your way across the seat to give her room to get out.

“Why not? It might be fun.” Despite her very casual attempt to convince you, your rat-controlling friend shuffled past you into the aisle.

“Might be,” you admitted, “but it’s not fair that all of us aren’t able to go. Besides, I don’t drink and clubs aren’t really my scene.”

Cleo snorted and offered you a smirk. “And you think it’s mine? Or his?”

She pointed and you looked over at Abner, the Polka Dot Man, who was trying to decide whether or not he should tuck in his shirt while Dabois and Rick tried to brief the team in the aisle next to him, with very little success.

You smirked back. “To be fair, you look very pretty. Like my grandma. In her coffin.”

The comment earned you a flick to the forehead, which made you snicker. Then Cleo shoved her hand into your face as she flipped you off but she had a goodnatured smile on her face all the while. “Fuck you.”

“Hey,” Rick suddenly hollered in your direction, and the two of you jolted to look over; he was coming your way. He stopped in front of you and Cleo, grabbing the back of the seat in front of you as he threw an expectant look your way. “What are you doing? Get up, we’re about to go.”

You frowned and looked over at Nanaue again, who had now moved to grumble in the back of the bus. His back was facing the rest of the team in pouting defiance.

“[Y/N],” Rick scolded, “no.”

You turned back to the man with a puppy dog-eyed pout. Outside of Harley Quinn, you were the longest reoccurring member of the Suicide Squad–killing, robbing, and being good at your job had a habit of doing that to people under Amanda Wallace’s thumb–so you and Rick knew each other well. Well, not well; you barely knew each other really, but you had a love-hate relationship that you enjoyed. That is, you loved to give him shit and he was forced to admit that you were a pretty good asset and thus had to endure you.

“Ricky,” you whined, flinging yourself over his arms, “he looks so sad, though.”

Rick sighed but made no move to remove you. He knew that if he actually tried to wrangle you, you would do the exact opposite of what he ordered you to do, so he tried half-hearted reasoning. “We are this close of being done here, [Y/N], and this whole thing would be a lot easier if you could just… illusion us in and out of there.”

You gasped, eyes growing starry as you stared up at him. The expression changed from lovestruck to morbidly amused in a flash as you smirked, “Aw, Richard, are you saying you need me?”

“I’m saying it would be easier–”

“Say please~”

“No.”

“Please~?”

Rick looked like he wanted to bash his head into the nearest wall. The thought made you giggle. After a few moments of what you assumed was silently begging whatever higher powers existed to give him patience, the soldier’s eyes rolled back to glare at you. “Please, would you just–”

“What’s going on?” DuBois yelled from the front of the bus. You peeked over Rick’s shoulder and saw his older war buddy glaring. The man, first name being Robert and alias being Bloodsport but you liked DuBois better, was messing with his mundane clothes like everyone else with. You supposed that being imprisoned for a while with only orange jumpsuits to wear would make any other clothing feel a little odd.

You answered before Rick could with an aggressive wave in DuBois’s direction, just to make sure he knew who was talking. “I’m not going!”

DuBois’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “You’re not going? Why?”

“They are,” Rick tried to intervene, “Just give us a minute–”

“We don’t have a minute!”

“We also don’t need a minute!” you chimed in. You sat high up on your knees on the bus seat and tapped Rick’s nose with a finger. “I’m not going. The idea of needle-head man freaks me out and it’s probably smarter to leave Nanaue versus a very nom-nom-looking human bus driver, yeah?”

You heard shuffling from behind you followed by a questioning sound from the shark-man in question. “Nom-nom?”

“No,” Rick, DuBois, and Cleo sounded at once, then Rick gave you a glare.

The kindly stating that you weren’t going didn’t seem to work but pointing out that you were more qualified to keep Nanaue from eating people than Milton was definitely a swaying argument. Just for added effect, you clasped your hands together and gave Rick your best puppy eyes and smile once more, although it once again cracked and turned into an expression that was a little more unsettling when you pleaded, “I’ll be good, I promise! C’mon, Dick Flag!”

“Heh, dick-flag,” Cleo snorted next to you.

Rick frowned but you could tell his resolve was cracking. “You’re not much better than the bus driver. Probably worse. You killed 500 people in two days because you said they all looked like your ex.”

Your eye twitched. “They did! At the time. And if he hadn’t cheated on me and stolen my money, it would have never been a problem.”

DuBois broke first. “Flag, we don’t have time. We’ll figure out something else, let’s just get the hell out of here.”

For a moment, Rick looked like he was preparing to argue further but he quickly decided it wasn’t worth it. He pointed a warning finger at you before turning and walking to the front of the bus, then out of it. One by one, the other squad members followed, until Cleo and Sebastian came up the rear and the two waved at you before departing.

“And then there was three,” you chirped to no one at all, although you were still in the presence of the pouting Nanaue and Milton the bus driver. You sat and waited until your teammates disappeared into the club, then twisted in your seat to face your sharky companion. “Hey, Nanaue!”

Nanaue only grunted in response. After being disappointed twice now, he wasn’t willing to take the bait for a possible third.

You had no intentions of disappointing him, though. You hopped over the back of the bus seat, then the next two, until you were sitting in the same row as him with only an aisle separating you. You waited there for a moment to see if you would earn anymore acknowledgement and when you didn’t, you slid over to sit directly next to him.

The so-called King Shark’s small, dark eyes watched you but when you got closer, he harrumphed and turned as far away from you as he could without literally leaving the bus through one of the windows. You gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder but his only response was to cross his arms and growl over his shoulder at you, “Go away.”

“But Nanaue, how will we go explore the town without each other?” you asked. In the meantime, you pulled up the sleeve of your disguise’s puffy blouse and fiddled with the dials on an augmented arm brace that you wore underneath. Once you were satisfied, you pressed a button on the brace an a small puff of pink smog was released from a grate on the device’s wrists. For anyone else, the puff was simply a small billow of colored air that smelled a bit sweet, but you knew that there was an army of microscopic nanobots following your orders. As the smoke dispersed, you pulled down your sleeve again and wafted a breeze in Nanaue’s direction.

“No exploring,” Nanaue pouted, “No disguise. No fake moustache.” Then he caught a whiff of your brace’s work and shifted to catch you still waving air at him. “Ew. What is that?”

“Well,” you started, then paused as you took a glance at the bus window to confirm your nanobots were working. The reflection in the glass showed you sitting next to a random, albeit large, human man instead of a sharky hybrid and you grinned. With a point at the window to draw Nanaue’s attention there, you continued, “It’s not a fake moustache but it’s one heck of a disguise.”

Nanaue looked at the window, then grunted in confusion at it. You drew his attention to the reflection itself and then he growled at the reflection that didn’t seem to look like it belonged to him, only for him to be surprised that that the human reflection moved with him. You watched with an amused little smirk as he executed some tests; he raised a webbed hand and the human reflection followed, he tilted his head and the reflection did the same. It took him a little while to get to the most obvious conclusion–that the human reflection following his movements was in fact his own–but then he looked at you as he raised both hands to his face, patting lightly. He groaned confusedly with a twinge of sadness, “Human?”

“Oh, gosh, no,” you said as you quickly shook your head. You placed your hands over the shark-man’s own and squeezed, giving his face a squish. “You’d be much less fun that way, promise. I just gave you a little disguise of your own so you wouldn’t feel left out on the party! You’re still all sharky-like, I just changed what everyone else sees.”

“Party?” Nanaue echoed as he dropped his hands. His head lurched to look towards the club where the rest of the team had gone.

“I mean we could go in the stuffy boring bar,” you admitted with a tilt of your head and a bored sigh for effect, “or we could take a walk on the town. Check out the stores, try some of the local cuisines, have a nom-nom chaser or two…”

Nanaue’s eyes shined like little black pearls; he didn’t get some of the words you were saying, like cuisine, but he certainly understood nom-noms. He got to his feet, jostling you and the entire bus in the process, and pushed into the center aisle. In the process, one soft, silvery hand engulfed your own human-toned one and Nanaue dragged you after him. “Friend and Nanaue get nom-noms!”

You would have clapped if you had both hands free but you simply grinned and followed Nanaue off the bus, much to bus driver Milton’s dismay.

~~~~~

“Nanaue~” you sang from your perch on a chaise-style lounge chair in a random clothing boutique. The rest of your sentence faded off a bit as your eyes caught a particularly interesting tidbit in the magazine that you were perusing and you casually kicked your feet as you looked the text over. Towards the end of the reading, you remembered that you had been saying something and shook your head to refocus. “Nanaue, how’s it going in there?”

Some grumbles sounded and the curtain that separated from you from the dressing room that your companion was in shivered. From the gap between the floor and the curtain’s end, you could see Nanaue’s feet turning, and a bulge appeared caused by his dorsal fin appeared briefly in the fabric as his back faced the exit. Eventually, he got twisted around enough in the tiny space to be able to grab the curtain, but rather than pulling it open properly, he yanked it off it’s rail completely and tossed it to the side.

You tossed your magazine to the side and clapped as he wriggled himself free from the dressing room and stepped out into the viewing area. “Look at you! What an outfit for a man! So much better than some of the stuff that everyone else was wearing, like that god-awful yellow shirt that Rick had on. Didn’t fit him too bad, though.”

Not too long into your and Nanaue’s tour, you managed to find a store that sold clothes for larger men. With some minor editing–like tearing a hole in shirts for a fin and hemming some pant legs–you were able to come up with enough outfits for Nanaue to give you a little fashion show and the demigod, high on exploration and human flesh, was in a good enough mood to give you what you wanted. Instead of his usual and only pair of ratty shorts, Nanaue now wore a pair of what looked like jeans but were made with a stretchier fabric along with a tank top and a brightly patterned button-up polo shirt.

“And I thought the jean jacket was the best one.” You chirped as you hopped to your feet. You tried to circle him and assess the outfit from all angles but to no avail because Nanaue started turning with you. You checked out the outfit in the three old mirrors that faced the viewing area from different angles instead and noticed the collar of the overshirt twisted oddly–probably because it wasn’t really a shirt meant for people with fins on their backs–so you stepped up to Nanaue and fixed it for him. Then you stepped back and placed your hands on your hips with an approving nod. “This one’s definitely the best. What do you think?”

Nanaue shrugged but then appeared to notice one of the mirrors for the first time. He eyed himself a bit and flapped his arms, then shrugged again. “Okay.”

“That’s all?”

“Mhm. Hungry.”

You sighed but you couldn’t really blame him. He was quite big, after all.

“Well, let’s head out then. Sorry for the lack of cash, Ms. Shopowner, Ma’am! You’ll just have to put it on our tab.” You waved over to the counter, where the bloody remains of an arm sat on the glass, then headed toward the shattered front window of the boutique with Nanaue in tow. “Wait, do clothing stores even have tabs? Hm.”

Nanaue shrugged yet again and grabbed the leftover arm as he ambled after you.

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timptoe · 1 year

Text

Six Words for Shepard

Hi @all-truths-wait-in-all-things, I'm your Harbinger of holiday cheer for @masseffectholidaycheer! You said you wanted something fluffy about Jack and your Shepard, so I took the six descriptive words you gave me and wrote a sestina about Marin. And then I wrote a bunch more words about Jack writing the sestina, including teaching a toddler to say "fuck." The world is dark and cold, so I hope this silliness brings you a bit of warmth.

Read it on AO3.

----

C-Sec Holding Cell, Presidium Commons, Citadel Fifteen days before the end of the Reaper War

In retrospect, it’s all Miranda Lawson’s fault, really.

Jack blows out a breath as she leans against the wall of the C-Sec holding cell. She’s seen worse. The three-meter square room is fucking spacious compared to some of the other jails she’s been in. And clean, too. Immaculate. Not even any blood on the walls. Is it really a jail if there’s no blood on the walls?

She touches the forcefield over the doorway, which sparks at the contact. Yeah, still a jail.

Really, if Miranda hadn’t put her nose where it didn’t belong— But that’s what she does best, isn’t it? Puts her fucking nose in other people’s fucking business because she’s always got the fucking best ideas.

Shoulda flipped the table over the moment she sat down.

Jack sighs, a particular voice in the back of her head whispering, That’s not fair.

She loves that voice. Hates what a goody-two-shoes it’s made her, but…loves it all the same. Which is why she even deigned to talk to Miranda in the first place. Why she was even able to without throwing her off the balcony and straight into the Presidium’s pool.

Because of Marin fucking Shepard.

A year ago, Jack’s conversation with Miranda would have ended with a detonation of biotic energy in the former Cerberus operative’s face. But Jack’s apparently mellowed in her old age. Shepard would say she’s “learned restraint,” with that fucking mischievous twinkle in her eye that makes Jack’s toes curl, but Jack knows what it really means: she’s gotten soft. Hell, the topic of her and Miranda’s conversation itself proves how soft she’s gotten. How soft Shepard’s made her.

So maybe Jack likes a little softness now, fuck you. She’s still a badass where it counts. And as long as Shepard never finds out about any of this, she can still hold her head high the next time she sees her, pretend she’s not some gooey, emotional, doe-eyed…

Ah, fucking hell. I am, aren’t I?

Jack sighs again, looking around the small holding cell, putting her head in her hands. She should’ve just left the moment Miranda sat down.

—— Café Majestique, Presidium, Citadel Ten hours before the present

She slams the pad down on the table with a mighty “FUCK!”

The crash of the pad echoes around the café in the brief silence that follows. She glances around at all of the patrons who are decidedly not looking at her, making eye contact with the one salarian who is. “What the fuck are you looking at?” she growls.

He beelines it for the exit.

Jack pinches the bridge of her nose and glares down at the pad where it rests on the table. What a fucking joke, she thinks. A war for survival raging across the galaxy, her own students facing Reaper-mutated soldiers every day now, fucking Cerberus ascending, and this is the thing that finally breaks her?

I’m the fucking joke.

“Glad to see you’re just as stable as ever, Jack,” comes a lightly-accented voice behind her.

She tenses more at the accent than at the unexpected interruption it brings. Of all the people in the universe, she would rather have Harbinger himself sit down in the chair across the table instead of the woman who does. Shoulder-length dark hair, skintight white bodysuit, enigmatic quirk to her lips.

Of course it would be Miranda Lawson right now.

“Cheerleader,” Jack sighs, “what a pleasant fucking surprise.”

Miranda pops an eyebrow. “That’s a downright cheery welcome coming from you. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m real fucking dandy. Is there something I can help you with?” Jack asks through gritted teeth.

“Not really, just ducked in here for a moment and saw a familiar face, thought we could catch up,” Miranda replies, smiling wide. The smile doesn’t reach her eyes, which flicker to look behind Jack’s left shoulder, then off to her right, before landing back on Jack herself.

Jack leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Cerberus?”

Miranda nods once.

Jack considers her options. On the one hand, she could get up, walk away, and leave the personification of everything wrong with the galaxy to her own just desserts. She’s pretty sure Miranda would be fine—Miranda’s biotics are almost on par with hers, not that Jack would ever admit that out loud—but she might break a nail, and that would be glorious. On the other hand, though, she could help the cheerleader screw over the organization that kidnapped her as a baby and raised her to be the twisted monster she almost became, had Shepard not stepped in. She owes Shepard everything. And Shepard’s voice, as ever, is in the back of her head, telling her what she should do.

Jack’s grown to love the voice, even if she hates having to help Eugenics Barbie.

“Fine,” she says nonchalantly. “Want me to blow this place up? Pretty sure I can channel the blast so it mostly doesn’t hit you.”

“Charming as ever, Jack,” Miranda says sharply, though Jack swears she sees a hint of relief in Miranda’s eyes, “but no. Just need to sit here a couple of minutes, then I’ll be out of your—“ Miranda glances at Jack’s mohawk-ponytail. “Huh, you actually do have hair now.”

Jack glares.

Miranda waves a hand dismissively. “Sorry, sorry. Just talk to me for a minute, give the guys following me time to give up.”

“Just…talk to you.”

Miranda arches an eyebrow. “A simple enough request.”

Jack laughs. “What the fuck do you and I have to talk about, cheerleader? The weather?”

Miranda rolls her eyes. “Anything. What about…” She looks around the cafe, her eyes landing on the almost-forgotten pad on the table. “What about this? Why were you yelling at it when I walked in?”

The horror that strikes Jack’s heart at the thought of Miranda seeing what’s written on the pad is the split-second of hesitation Miranda needs to scoop it off the table.

“Give that back!” Jack growls, practically diving across the table. Miranda deftly defends herself with one hand, starting to read the pad from the other.

“Violets are blue Roses are red—“

“Stop it!” Jack sends a biotic pulse out, trying to pull the pad back. The ease with which Miranda blocks the pulse, not even looking her way, is infuriating.

“Violets are blue Roses are red Your butt’s really cute I’m…glad you’re not dead?”

Jack groans in defeat, collapsing onto the table.

“Jack, what the hell is this?”

Jack mumbles a response into the table.

“What?”

“A gift for Shepard.” She sits back up in her chair and squares her shoulders, staring Miranda down like the former Cerberus operative’s a charging brute. If she’s gonna die of embarrassment, she’s gonna go down swinging.

“A…gift. For Shepard.” Miranda blinks. “You wrote Shepard a poem?”

“Writing, I’m writing a poem,” Jack snaps, trying—and failing—again to snatch the pad back. “It’s not finished yet.”

“That’s actually really—“ Jack can see Miranda physically stop herself from saying cute, and the shame of appreciating the gesture is almost unbearable.

“Don’t start,” Jack warns.

Miranda fixes her with a look. “You really do care for her, don’t you?”

Jack grimaces. “I’m not talking about this with you of all—“

“Jack.” Miranda places her hand on Jack’s, the tenderness of the gesture stunning Jack into silence. “Look. I was wrong.”

Jack raises an eyebrow, keeping her hand still.

“The psych profile Cerberus drew up before recommending you for recruitment on the Collector mission said you wouldn’t be able to form attachments. That you’d be a perfect weapon: volatile, dangerous, and expendable.” Miranda withdraws her hand, focusing instead on flicking through the screens on the pad. “I believed them. And I was wrong.”

“Yeah, well, you were wrong about a lot of things,” Jack snaps.

Miranda nods. “And you were right. About Cerberus, and about Shepard.”

“Well. Yeah. Good.”

Miranda continues idly swiping through the pad as Jack collects her thoughts. A year ago, Miranda would’ve been paste on the Presidum ceiling for daring to touch anything of Jack’s, much less something so…private. Even now, Jack’s fingers are unconsciously flexing as she holds back the reflex to destroy everything around her.

Because that little voice in the back of head, that voice she doesn’t get to hear often enough these days, is saying, Don’t.

“Actually, some of this isn’t bad,” Miranda muses, continuing to swipe through the pad. “Good, actually. Your use of imagery is evocative, and your word choice—“

“I don’t need a fucking lit-crit lecture, professor,” Jack says crossly.

Miranda shrugs. “I’m just saying. Some of the more free-form ones have potential. So why…?” She leaves the question unfinished, clearly unwilling to say So what the fuck was up with that first one?

Jack says nothing, just glaring out into the fake Presidium sky.

“Jack,” Miranda says, exasperated. “I’ve actually studied poetry, you know. I’m trying to help you.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” Jack snaps, finally snatching the pad back. “I don’t want your help.”

“Fine.” Miranda crosses her arms, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

She probably could help, you know, Marin’s voice echoes in Jack’s brain.

Fuck you, Jack thinks back.

Only if you’re good, Marin’s voice somehow winks at her.

Jack tries very hard not to think about what it says about her that she has conversations with her girlfriend in her head. Instead, she picks a window on the opposite side of the Presidium, stares it down like it’s an enemy Husk, and says to no one in particular, “I’m trying out metered verse.”

A beat. “I’m sorry?”

Still avoiding any sort of eye contact, she continues, “I submitted one of those free verse poems to a journal and got rejected. They said I should go for metered verse. That’s what…that was. An attempt. At meter.”

Another beat. Two. The silence stretches, so long that Jack wonders if Miranda has actually left. This was a bad idea, terrible. Telling Miranda anything, not throwing her bodily off the balcony before, deciding to write a stupid poem anyway, all of it. Fine, whatever, no worries, she’ll just—

“A sestina.”

Jack blinks, looking back at Miranda in confusion. “What?”

Cheerleader is looking at her thoughtfully, studying her like she’s never seen Jack before.

“A sestina,” Miranda says again. “Six stanzas of six lines built around six different words, with a seventh half-stanza recapitulating the six words. Blank verse, so it doesn’t rhyme, which I think is your problem. Highly structured, which I also think will help you, given how you thrived on the Normandy.”

Jack just stares at her. “What?”

Miranda rolls her eyes and leans forward. She grabs the pad again and starts typing. “Look, I’ll find examples for you on the extranet. I know it’s unusual, but if I know you, and my extensive additions to your psych profile would suggest that I do, you need a form that lets you be evocative while giving you boundaries. Which I know you secretly appreciate, because again, you’re dating Shepard.”

She hands the pad back, having successfully found half a dozen extranet sites with examples, definitions, and commentary about this poetic form Jack’s never heard of. Jack reads silently for a little while, Miranda giving her the space to do so.

After a few minutes, she looks up begrudgingly at Miranda. “Six words, huh.”

“All built around six words,” Miranda nods.

“But…how do I pick six words?”

Miranda shrugs. “Up to you, you’re the poet. Make a list of her qualities, flip randomly through a dictionary, talk to people around here who know her. Doesn’t matter.”

This…could work, damn it all. Miranda’s been right before, not that Jack will ever admit it. And she’s sure as fuck not gonna admit it now.

But something subtle in her eyes must shift, because Miranda gives the barest of smiles. “Here, start with this word: addict.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve seen Shepard around coffee and you can honestly say she’s not addicted?” Miranda chuckles. “Plus, you can use it in multiple ways, which’ll help in constructing the verses.”

“Right.” Jack muses for a moment, lost in thought about poetry construction, Marin and coffee, the taste of coffee on Marin’s lips…

She shakes her head, clearing those thoughts in time to see a sly smile on Miranda’s lips. “See? Evocative.”

Then, suddenly, Miranda’s all business. “Well, thank you for letting me crash your writing session, but I think I’ve lost my tail, so I’ll be—“

Focusing intently on the pad, Jack interrupts conversationally, “Two men came in through the door behind the counter about five minutes ago and sat down at a table on your four. They’ve been staring at you ever since.”

Miranda goes perfectly, and utterly, still. “Ah. Alright. I…” She trails off, her eyes darting back-and-forth, trying to come up with a plan.

Jack chuckles, then looks up at her. “Miranda, you are an insufferable know-it-all, a war criminal, too obsessed with your own self-image, a patsy for terrorists, and just generally the worst.”

If possible, Miranda goes even more rigid, her ice-blue eyes staring daggers at Jack.

“And you’re one of Shepard’s, so I’ve got your back. Plus,” Jack ducks her head back down and mumbles, “you didn’t laugh. At this.”

She can feel Miranda’s eyes on her. She glares at the Shepard in her head. You make me soft.

Marin’s light chuckle just echoes in her brain. Doing the right thing sucks sometimes.

“Go,” she says to Miranda before she can change her mind. “I’ve got this.”

Miranda nods, and starts to get up. “Don’t…blow everything up.”

Jack rolls her eyes. “Oh look, you’re assuming the worst about me, what a shock.” At Miranda’s look, she glares. “I’d invite you to watch my finesse and control to prove you wrong, but you’re supposed to be getting the fuck out of here, Cheerleader.”

Miranda chuckles. “Right.” She turns as she walks away to say, “Send me a copy when you’re finished? I’d just love to see how the sestina turns out.”

“Not on your fucking life,” Jack calls back.

As Miranda gives a laugh and moves toward the exit, the two Cerberus thugs get up from their table, making a beeline for her.

Jack smirks. Not so fast, dickwads.

— Financial District, Presidium, Citadel Nine hours before the present

“I’m sorry, who are you again?”

Jack rubs her temple, trying her level best not to swear in front of the toddler in the woman’s arms. Rebekah Petrovsky, mother, Citadel entrepreneur, and—crucially—somebody who asks entirely too many questions.

“Ma’am, as I’ve already said, I’m a…friend of Commander Marin Shepard. She’s spoken so…highly of you, I just want to ask you a question.”

That is a fucking lie. Shepard’s ranted about this woman multiple times in Jack’s presence, decrying “breeder culture” and “genetically engineering kids” and also “people who apparently can’t make a decision without involving me for some ridiculous reason.” Somehow, Shepard had crossed paths with this kid-obsessed lady a lot over the last three years, much to Shepard’s chagrin and Jack’s delight.

Less delight now that she’s experiencing the woman’s shrill tone for herself. But who better to know Shepard than someone she’d helped out more than once?

“Oh, if it’s a favor for Commander Shepard,” Petrovsky says, the namedrop positively dripping with…something, “that’s different. How can I be helpful?”

“Just…” Jack grits her teeth so it looks like she’s smiling. “I’m working on a…project for her, so I’m asking people who…know her how they might describe her.”

This was clearly the wrong thing to say, given the pure delight that springs into the woman’s eyes and the word vomit that spills forth from her puckered mouth.

I’m in hell, Jack thinks, I died and I’m in hell and I’m being punished, I’m probably gonna have to plan this woman’s baby shower now, what the fuck is she going on about…

“I just couldn’t believe that Michael would put little Jake in danger like that! But that’s when dear Commander Shepard walked up and…”

“Ma’am— I’m sorry, ma’am, if I could just…”

“And I was just so tickled when she turned out to be alive after all! You know, I told Michael…”

“No, I don’t need— That’s not what I’m asking you for, just stop…”

“But Michael wouldn’t listen, he thought that the daycare on the Citadel would be—“

“Oh would you just shut the fuck up!”

Petrovsky stares at Jack, mouth wide open, for a long moment. Jack growls, “Just. Describe Shepard. In one word. One.”

The woman draws herself up to her full height, lips pursed like she’s sucking on a lemon, adjusting the laughing toddler on her hip. “Nice. She is nice.”

“Shut the fuck up!” the toddler parrots, delightedly clapping his hands.

Jack snerks.

The fury that crosses the woman’s face as she puts her hands over the boy’s ears feels almost better than sex.

“How dare you—“

“Look, lady, it’s not my—“

That’s when Jack spots the C-Sec officers in the distance over Petrovsky’s shoulder. And when they spot her. Guess her little stunt in the café got some attention.

Jack claps the woman lightly on the shoulder. “Thanks lady, you’ve been a big help. And you…” She leans in closer to the toddler, who looks at her with big, shining eyes, and says, “Fuck!”

The kid delightedly repeats, “Fuck!”

Jack sprints away, cackling as she hears the woman’s indignation. Nice certainly describes Shepard more than it describes her.

— Rodam Expeditions, Zakera Ward, Citadel Eight-and-a-half hours before the present

These C-Sec officers are better than the ones she’s tangled with in the past. That, or she’s easier to track now that she’s official Alliance personnel or whatever.

But Jack didn’t spend most of her life committing worse crimes than teaching a toddler to curse or, you know, biotically stabbing a couple of Cerberus assholes to get caught now.

She creeps along a wall, peering into the next corridor. A couple of shops, no sign of—

Wait. Shit. There they are.

Hoping they haven’t seen her yet, she darts into a nearby store, some tourism shop or other. As her body breaks the plane of the doorway, it chimes and a voice says, “I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite store on the Citadel.”

Jack yelps in surprise and tumbles ass-over-teakettle into the counter.

The turian behind it cocks his head at her and says, “You alright, ma’am?”

She pops her head up and peers out the doorway. “Uh…old ex-boyfriend. Can’t let him see me.”

Turians don’t have eyebrows. She’s honestly not sure what they have, but whatever it is the merchant does, it feels like he raises an eyebrow at her. He points behind the counter. “Hop back here for a minute, then, catch your breath.”

Jack hops over the counter and crouches down, breathing hard. She looks up at the turian, who’s staring at her like she’s a particularly weird looking bug. She starts to glare back before deciding not to piss off the guy who’s kinda rescuing her.

And then she replays the last twenty seconds in her head, and her eyes go wide.

“Sorry, was that— Did Shepard actually record an ad for this place?”

The turian grins. “About a year ago! It’s great, my business has skyrocketed since she did that.”

Jack blinks. “You know that she did one for, like, every store in this ward, right?”

Now he full on laughs. “Oh yeah, it was incredible! The looks on the other guys’ faces when they realized…oh, it was too funny. They were so pissed! Buncha them tried to do something, but she’s a Spectre, so what’re you gonna do? So they all just decided to delete her ads and pretend it never happened. Which leaves me,” he winks, “the only one left with an endorsement from the woman kicking the Reapers’ asses.”

Jack chuckles. Then, she cocks her head at him; she can use this. “So…if you were gonna describe Shepard in just a word, you’d say…”

“Funny,” he answers without hesitation. After a beat, he adds, “Or sarcastic. She roasted me when I asked her to record that, but…” He shrugs. “Worked out for me in the end.”

Funny. And sarcastic. Yeah, those both track. Jack’s been on the receiving end of Shepard’s particular brand of humor more times than she count. It used to bug the shit out of her. Now…

She smiles softly. Hearing Marin laugh makes the worst day better.

The turian taps her on the shoulder, shaking her from the brief reverie. “Look, lady, I think your ‘ex-boyfriend’ went chasing a donut a few floors down, so if you don’t mind…”

Jack springs back up. “Yeah, got it. Uh, thanks, man.”

She vaults back over the counter and saunters out, Marin’s laugh still echoing in her head.

— Purgatory, Presidium, Citadel Seven hours before the present

“What do I think of Shepard? What are you asking me for, Jack?”

“I…it’s for a project, Tali. Just answer the question.”

Jack walks through the crowded bar, trying to blend in. Act normal. And what’s more normal than talking loudly on a call with a friend in public? Besides, there’s no point to suddenly having all this power from the Alliance if she’s not going to abuse the comm buoys for her friends.

“I mean…she’s great? Definitely one of the top ten humans I’ve ever met,” Tali responds, amused but with a note of confusion. “You of all people should know that, Jack.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m just…”

“…it’s for a project. Right.” The holo-mini of the quarian above Jack’s omnitool shrugs.

Jack swallows her frustration with a shot of…whatever she swiped from the bar, she wasn’t really paying attention. “Look, Tali, you were there at the beginning. Way before me. I’m looking for your…unique perspective.”

“I am rather unique, that’s true.” Jack can hear the smile in her voice. “Well, more than anything, I’d say that Shepard is a huge nerd.”

Jack raises an eyebrow.

“What, you think that every time she came down to Engineering it was just to visit you?” Tali scoffs. “She helped me recalibrate that intake manifold like a dozen times. I think it was her way of dealing with being on a Cerberus ship, at least as first, but she asked a lot of good questions. Like she was actually interested in how everything worked.”

Jack nods, thinking. Yeah, that sounds like Shepard: asking too many questions and, to Jack’s eternal surprise, caring about the answers. Those long talks in the engineering subdeck felt like interrogations at first, until they didn’t. Until she looked at Marin, really looked at her, and saw someone who wanted to know her.

It was terrifying. Still is, if she’s honest. But…good.

“You know,” Tali says conspiratorially, “on our last mission, Shepard stole the mounted head of a husk from this guy’s laboratory.” Jack snickers at the way Tali draws out the ‘oh’ in lab-OH-ratory. “She keeps it in her cabin so she can run ‘experiments’ on it, but really I think she’s just trying to get it to make friends with the hamster.”

Jack laughs. “What a fucking nerd.”

Tali crooks a finger at her, in a gesture Jack’s come to think of as a wink. “See? Told ya.” She cocks her head suddenly, looking at something out of the projected field. “I have to go, we’re pulling into Thessia. Call you later?”

“Sure, thanks, I—“

A large hand falls on Jack’s shoulder, another one clicking her omnitool off. She instinctively starts to flare, but the biotic explosion dies as she turns her head to see who the fuck is touching her.

C-Sec uniform. Military haircut. Stern look on his face.

“Hi, Jack,” Commander Bailey says.

She groans.

Ah, shit.

— C-Sec Holding Cell, Presidium Commons, Citadel Now

She knows she could’ve gotten away. Punched Bailey, thrown a shockwave at his team, darted out of Purgatory and hijacked a freighter to parts unknown. But her damn students need her to be on the Citadel right now, respectable, not a fugitive from justice or whatever.

So does Shepard.

Once, she would’ve been overjoyed to have a chance to punch a cop. Now…she sighs and kicks the floor. So fucking soft.

The forcefield abruptly shuts off, and she looks up to see Bailey and his un-punched face glowering at her. “Come on, Jack, you’re done.”

She stands up and follows him out of the cell. “That’s all?”

Bailey rolls his eyes as he walks. “Normally, using biotics to stab two guys through the feet with coffee spoons into the floor so they can’t move would get you a harsher punishment than a couple of hours in a cooling tank. Which…why, Jack? Just why?”

She shrugs. “They were Cerberus.”

He stops walking for a second, shaking his head. “Ah, well. I’d tell you not to do it again but…fuck those guys.”

She laughs in spite of herself.

Bailey keeps walking. “And anyway, I couldn’t keep you in there even if I wanted to. You’ve been sprung.” He glances sideways at her, eyes twinkling. “Special Spectre dispensation.”

Jack blanches. Shepard…wasn’t supposed to find out about this.

He chuckles at the look on her face. “Eh, I wouldn’t worry too much. Best soldier I’ve ever seen, but underneath it all, Shepard’s as fluffy as a goddamn marshmallow.”

They walk out into the artificial light of the Presidium proper. “Next time, try not to be so public with your vigilante justice, yeah?”

“No promises,” she bites back.

He sighs. “Yeah, I thought that’d be a bridge too far. Well. See you next time, then.” He turns to go, then stops and turns back. “Oh, right. She wanted me to make sure you got this.”

He swipes a message over to her omnitool, text only, before walking away. She pulls it up: an address, some apartment on the Silversun Strip she’s never been to. The rest of the short message just says, Meet me here. About 36 hours out. Thessia went bad. Need you.

Jack’s heart twists. Marin’s messages are usually longer, sprinkled with anecdotes or curse words, depending on who she’s dealt with. A message this short…

…deserves something soft.

Jack squares her shoulders. Well, she started today intending to write Shepard a poem, so Shepard’s gonna get a fucking poem.

Addict. Nice. Funny. Sarcastic. Nerdy. And…she thinks back to what Bailey said. Marshmallow.

Marin Shepard in six words.

Jack gets to work.

— Anderson’s apartment, Silversun Strip, Citadel Thirteen days before the end of the Reaper War

Jack is clearly not rich enough to be in this building. The doorman stares at her tattoos. The receptionist stares at her mohawk-ponytail. The guy in the elevator stares…elsewhere.

But all she has to say is “I’m with Commander Shepard,” and they move out of her way. She smirks at each one of them, reveling in the power that simple phrase contains. No wonder rich people are such assholes, this feeling is intoxicating.

Soon enough, she’s knocking on a wood-paneled door at the end of a hallway, awkwardly holding the oblong package. Jack’s cased enough buildings to know this is the corner suite, and she idly wonders who Shepard killed to get access to this place.

The sarcastic question dies on her lips as Shepard—no, Marin answers the door. There’s no trace of the soldier, the leader, in her posture. She just looks…exhausted.

“Hey, Jack,” she says. “Come on in.”

She leads Jack into the apartment, a two-story, wide-open, immaculately decorated space that immediately sets Jack on edge. Nothing good ever happens in places like this. Drug deals. Trafficking. People with too much power deciding the fates of people with too little.

She looks over at Marin, who’s now sitting on the edge of one of the many couches, head in her hands. Well. If anyone could redeem a place like this.

Jack walks over to the couch, resting the package against the table and sitting down next to Marin. “You look rough, Shepard.”

Marin chuckles bitterly into her hands. “I feel rough.”

“I like rough.” Jack puts a hand on Marin’s shoulder. She’s shaking; not a lot, but too much. “Alright, whose ass do I need to kick?”

Marin glances over at her. She’s not crying, but she has been. Her eyes are red and puffy. And kind. Always kind.

“We lost Thessia, Jack. Kai Leng beat us there and took something we need.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “We’re running out of time.”

She leans into Jack, and Jack just holds her for a long moment. Soft.

After a while, she says into Jack’s shoulder, “Tell me something good.”

Jack thinks for a moment, and then chuckles. “I stabbed two Cerberus jackasses with coffee spoons the other day. Felt fucking awesome.”

Marin laughs, squeezing Jack tight before leaning back to look at her. “Yeah, I think I heard something about that.”

“Thanks, uh,” Jack rubs the back of her head, “thanks for getting me out of there.”

Marin grins, tired eyes full of mischief. “What’s the point of being a Spectre if I can’t abuse my authority for my…friend?” She winks.

It’s Jack‘s turn to laugh now. “And what authority are you abusing to squat in a place this fancy?”

“Ah, yes. This,” Marin says, spreading her arms wide, “somehow belongs to Admiral Anderson, who was apparently a pirate king in another life and didn’t tell me. Pretty lavish, right?”

Jack arches an eyebrow. “That’s a word for it.”

“He’s loaning it to me for a little while,” Marin says. “Hackett wants us to go into drydock for retrofits before we take Earth, so Anderson offered me this place to stay.” She shrugs, as if the commander of the Earth resistance forces gifting her a palatial apartment is a regular occurrence.

Then, she gets a keen look in her eye, peering at the package. “But the tour can wait. What is this?”

Jack blushes out of nowhere, suddenly so fucking nervous. Ugh. Such a joke. “It’s a…present. A project I’ve been working on.” A huge grin starts to cross Marin’s face, and Jack furiously says, “Don’t you fucking start, you little—“

Marin throws her arms around Jack and hugs her tight. Jack stiffens for a moment, then awkwardly hugs her back. She mutters, “It’s not a big deal, don’t make it a thing.”

Marin laughs as she pulls back. “No promises.”

She picks up the package and unwraps it. The large frame shines in the apartment’s down-lighting, the canvas within white with swirling blue calligraphy. Jack has to physically stop herself from twisting her hands nervously as Marin’s face goes slack. “Jack, did you make this?”

“Yeah.” Jack gives a tight nod. “Yeah, uh, they taught me calligraphy when I was in…when I was little. Said it was good for fine motor skills, biotic control. I don’t get a lot of chances to…use it. You know.”

Marin nods absently, tracing her fingers over the letters. Then all at once, her eyes go wide. “Wait. This is a poem. Did you…” She looks up at Jack. “Did you write this, too?”

Jack nods again, not daring to speak.

She watches Marin read it, her lips unconsciously mouthing the syllables. Jack’s been an experiment in a lab, trapped behind glass walls, trapped under psychotic expectations. She’s been in firefights too many times to count, pinned down by overwhelming forces, out of ammunition, her amp fried, her companions dead. She’s seen horrors most people couldn’t even comprehend, in her dreams, in her thoughts, in her bed.

Never, in her whole life, has Jack been more scared than watching Marin read her poem.

It takes a while, too. A sestina is long; too long, she thinks. Marin’s eyes flit over it, back and forth, taking in every detail, every image, every mistake, probably, she thinks. This was a mistake. Too much. Too much of me, too silly, too soft, too—

Jack’s eyes meet Marin’s as she finishes reading. The look she gives her fills Jack with a warmth she’s never known.

“How?” Marin asks.

Jack huffs uneasily. “It’s Miranda’s fault. Told me about the form, told me go talk to people about you.” She grins, adding, “I got to teach Petrovsky’s kid to say ‘fuck’.”

Marin laughs, long and loud. She looks back down at the poem, and softly says, “Why?”

Jack can’t help herself. “Because you’re worth it.”

“Thank you,” Marin whispers.

“It’s a little rough,” Jack responds.

Marin’s smile outshines the stars themselves. “I like rough.”

She gently puts the frame down, and they lay entwined on the couch for a long time, reminding each other exactly what they’re worth to each other.

They don’t even need six words.

—

Six Words for Shepard

The light fades, dark falling like an addict Tumbling to the ground. Everywhere, the nice And the cruel, the meek and the proud, funny And serious and even the nerdy Fall silent, their echoing sarcastic Words melting like a steam-drenched marshmallow.

We are all drifting, like a marshmallow Drifts in the cup of a coffee addict, Buffeted by fate or the sarcastic Laughs of a galaxy that destroys nice People, nice places, all that the nerdy Among us hold dear, their grief turned funny.

Yet we have a champion, a funny Idea as we sink in this marsh, mellow Soil for the dark. But with her nerdy Humor, warrior’s will, she seems an addict Not of the drink, but of all that is nice, Just, and good, eschewing the sarcastic.

And although it may seem still sarcastic To extol her virtues, there’s a funny Virtue in this exhortation, a nice Reminder that my love’s sweet marshmallow Core is filled with steel, and like an addict, I’ll ever seek her, for she is nerdy.

She’s a champion because she is nerdy, Her great mind always at work, sarcastic Quips only for fools, never the addict. Her plans outstrip friend and foe, and funny Though it is to have such a marshmallow In command, her calm shepherding is nice.

Don’t think that I’m just being fucking nice. See for yourself: the Commander’s nerdy Sense of righteousness, as the marshmallow She is, kills hostiles like a sarcastic Retort, their lives short, brutal, and funny. The rest, her heart cleaves to like an addict.

So sings this addict, drunk on my love’s nice, Sweet wine, a funny showing of nerdy Verse for my sarcastic, fierce marshmallow.

#mass effect #jack mass effect #fshep #my writing #sestina #harbinger of holiday cheer #this was the MOST fun to write #I haven't written Jack yet!#and I haven't written a sestina in years #fandom is the best

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insult-2-injury · 2 years

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Take a Seat- Chapter 8

After a skirmish up top, your failing shop falls under the watchful gaze of the Eye of Zaun. And his blue-haired gremlin daughter.

I am squealing. Look! Look at this amazing, beautiful, wonderful, PERFECT artwork of knife girl done by the insanely talented @dad-dumpster. Full body here! This is exactly who I picture when I write my scrappy lil' knife girl. I'm so happy to finally have a face to her name and am just over the moon! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

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You started on the knife right away.

How could you not with that stunt he’d pulled behind the bar?

Snake. Oh, he was a snake alright, and none were so slimy as him. He’d known exactly what he was doing when he’d gotten so close, that oppressive energy of his laying claim to every prickling nerve in your body, steeping you in a thick haze of smoke and spices, leaving you drunk off the memory of it alone.

You could have walked away, could easily have ducked underneath the cage of his arms, but you hadn't, and it'd had nothing to do with standing your ground. You were so foolish, should never have allowed him so near. Why were you crafting a weapon for him anyway when he’d already forged such a potent one with his proximity alone?

Because it kept you distracted from this silly little preoccupation with the man, that’s why. You couldn’t even find it in you to be embarrassed. No. You’d leapt straight to fury when you’d gotten home that night, because he’d watched every stupid little tell on your face as if you were the highest form of entertainment, all while he’d presided over you with that despicable smugness.

The worst part was that you had no one to talk about this little infatuation with. It wasn’t as if you could talk to Cecil about it, although she probably already had an idea seeing how diabolical and giddy you always were whenever you flew down the stairs unscathed each week after meeting with him.

Besides, she was busy. Things between her and Sevika had really kicked off at the Last Drop that night and the way she put it, Sevika had made her dance alright. So, that tiny, glowing sliver of regard for the Eye of Zaun and his daughter was minor, really.

Nothing to worry about.

He’s holding the reins.

Your jaw clenched.

You were no marionette, dangling off his proverbial strings.

Oh, but he did like control, didn’t he? He didn’t just like it, he needed it. Tightly wound control lay in the rigidity of his shoulders, in the smooth, calculated movements of his long-fingered hands as he conducted a conversation, seamlessly bending it to his will. Even so much as a quirk of the eyebrow, a cock of the head seemed orchestrated, pre-planned.

So, what kind of chain reaction would occur if you were to budge such an unmoving monolith? Heat grew from the thought alone, sending a pulsing ache between your thighs.

Pushing. Pushing. Pushing. What exactly did you think the outcome would be?

An irritable murmur in your chest morphed into a howl of frustration as you snatched a knife up off your worktable, spun on your stool, and whipped it across your tiny house, where it stuck right into the pupil of Silco’s sketch, drywall dotting the floor beneath.

“Picture book, my ass.”

You shoved fingers through your hair, pushing back unruly strands only for them to fall again into your eyes.

Stefan’s words wormed through your head.

“I’m afraid after what happened, you’ve become disillusioned. Resentful.”

Perhaps he was right. You’d been systematically changed.

So, who was this new you, torn between two extremes? Your traitorous head, and… something else. Something darkly exciting.

You flopped onto your bed, thinking about Friday.

____________

With zero context for the agenda of the night other than "wear a coat," you did just that, tossing on your favorite lightweight one over a sweater, cute but threadbare. Your knife belt hung loosely across the tops of your hips and your pants clung tightly to your leg, flaring stylishly at the bottom.

If he was planning on sending you down the river on your merry way, you’d opt for style over comfort.

You grabbed your bag and a warm headband and you made your way to the Last Drop, wondering where the night was about to take you.

_____________

“We’re going on a field trip.”

Jinx materialized out of thin air the moment you walked in the door of the Last Drop, snatching hold of your elbow and tugging you toward the stairs, her thin, adolescent frame cutting easily through the crowd while you felt like a battered fruit, clobbering through flying elbows and stomping feet.

“First of all, whoa. Second, where are we going?”

“What?”

You repeated your question through the din of the crowd.

“My secret lab!”

“Secret lab? Is that why you’re wearing sunglasses indoors?”

“What?!”

“Why are you wearing sungl- NOT YOU. NOT AGAIN.”

The same drunk menace that had Shirley Templed you weeks prior was ahead, staggering directly into Jinx’s route, whiskey sloshing and you quickly brought your free hand up to both guard and shove her drink-toting hand away from you, successfully spilling most of it onto her head.

Ice cold liquid drenched the bottom of your sleeve as you cackled in victory. Jinx looked back at you, the hair framing her face wild and frizzed, her lips forming into a wide, toothy grin as she answered your question.

“I was making lightning!”

You accepted the vague answer with a contemplative bob of your head. You expected nothing less than the unexpected.

“Cool. Always need more of that.”

She giggled craftily, in a way that only Jinx could, and pulled you up the stairs, but not before you jabbed your fingers in Teddy’s direction, who was standing watch.

“I know full well there’s an elevator in this building, Teddy. I remember,” you yelled as you passed in a blur, “And I will ride it again. Mark my words.”

The mountain of a man hardly ever spoke a word, but you could tell he found you at the very least amusing.

He was an intimidating size, but was gentle, calm in the eyes- you’d always been good at spotting them, those little glints of goodness in people, and you rather liked the guy, despite his refusal to allow you onto the employee elevator, an issue you’d decided you were going to drag to hell and back.

It was heartening, however, that he’d allowed you past each week with not so much as a glance. You liked to pretend it spoke to some level of trust, but there wasn’t much of that to go around in the Undercity.

Jinx was a fountain of buzzing, youthful energy as she bounded up the stairs with you in tow, but you fell behind quickly and were a panting mess by the time you arrived at the threshold of Silco’s office, the door standing open.

You stood outside to catch your breath, huddling into your coat as if to ward yourself against a storm, enraptured by the way the blistering force of Silco's presence seemed to bleed into the hallway outside.

His critical gaze pinned you the moment you crept in. He beckoned you forward with a tilt of his head, eyes sliding down your jittery form and pausing on your drenched sleeve.

“Same drunk woman as before,” you spoke irritably as you casually stepped over Jinx’s prone form sprawled across the floor, where she played a dangerous game of catch with a brightly spotted grenade.

“I suppose staying out of the way wasn’t an option,” he said, and you tried to ignore how confidently imposing he appeared as he stood up from that pretentious high back chair, long fingered hands at work organizing papers into a neat pile in a corner tray of his desk.

“Never,” you responded, swinging your prying eyes away just as his began a slow crawl to meet yours.

“I thought not,” he said, the sounds of shuffling papers pausing briefly as he studied you.

Heat blossomed at the tips of your ears as you traipsed toward his shelves, which you’d never had the guts to examine closer until now.

You eyed his little trinkets, book titles blurring as you feigned interest, a little lost in thought as you trailed your fingers across them, picking up a thin layer of dust.

The silence, however short, held a devastatingly loud weight, the rhythmic noise of the grenade slapping Jinx’s palm like a sharply ticking clock.

“She’s hellbent on my destruction,” you continued, filling the quiet. “No tact at all. Just stumbles around your bar like she owns the place, can you believe it? Needs to be taught a lesson in bar etiquette.”

“Bar etiquette? In the Lanes?”

“Of course. For example, let’s see…” You listed them off on your fingers. “Don’t pay in change. Wait your turn-“

“Don’t get sloshed!” Jinx spoke, sounding splendidly proud of herself and you spun around, pointing at her approvingly, raising a third finger.

“Exactly.”

You turned to Silco.

“Whoever she is, she’s a social criminal.”

“For getting drunk at a bar?”

Silco’s eyebrow quirked and you shot him a cooperative smile, leaning back against the bookcase.

“Yep. Bars are for board games and-“

You prompted your blue-haired friend with an outstretched palm and she rolled her eyes.

“Jinx.”

“What?”

“Say it.”

“I’m not sayin’ it, knife girl.”

“Jinx, don’t embarrass me in front of the Eye of Zaun.”

Sighing, Jinx caught the grenade with ease, holding it between her long, twiggy fingers as she sat up, arms rounding her knees, addressing Silco.

“She thinks when she says ‘hijinks’ that it’s the funniest thing.”

You adjusted your stance, crossed your arms.

“It’s the highest form of comedy, you wouldn’t get it.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Genius.”

“Stupid.”

“Hm,” you said, shaking your head. “That’s so weird, I can tell she’s trying to say ‘genius’.”

“Jinx, grab your things,” Silco interrupted, and you turned only to catch the tail end of something strangely unsettled in his gaze falling into a steel impassivity.

“On it!”

The girl was a blue blur, and you stepped to the side as she sprung up, sticking out her tongue at you as she ran.

“Jinx.”

Two braids cracked through the air as she swung her head back around to Silco.

“Grab your coat.”

Jinx threw him a silly, two-fingered mock salute and ran out the door.

Tenderness tugged at the corners of your lips as you gazed into the empty hallway, huddling unwittingly into the jacket he’d requested you bring. He’d been right, you’d realized as you’d walked there that night, the crisp, stinging air whispering of the upcoming winter.

Funny, how he’d bothered to even mention.

You marveled at how disastrously thin the air became as Jinx’s electric presence disappeared down the hallway, her clomping footfalls fading, carrying with it most of your aplomb.

Remembering your present company, you turned your head achingly slow to meet Silco’s waiting gaze, inhaling lightly as the wick of the connection was ignited again by the deadly intensity of his mismatched eyes, by the remembrance of the tension outside the bar just days ago.

How did he do that?

You allowed the strange moment to spark and fizzle for as long as you could manage before letting out a breath, walking forward and taking a seat.

“I heard something about a secret lab?”

He nodded with an odd, deliberative look, the next words out of his mouth deceptively quiet.

“Do you know how to keep a secret?”

You blinked, noting the way the corners of his lips creased shrewdly at your hesitation, at your perplexed search for a double-bladed meaning behind the lilted words. You wondered, picture book as you were, if he saw the fleeting thought cross your mind of reaching across, grabbing the silk, smooth bind of his tie and bashing his forehead into his own desk.

“I do.”

The remaining papers in his hand were abandoned into a drawer at his side and the desk creaked as he was suddenly hinged forward, his palms propping him on the desk as he stared down his nose at you. There was no hint of playfulness peppering his voice anymore, only cold steel.

“How about when the stakes are high?”

You waited, eyes darting between his.

“Jinx trusts you.”

“I understand.”

“I really don’t think you do.”

Humor had no place in this conversation, not when it came to Jinx’s wellbeing, and you knew how she depended on you, how you’d become somewhat of a beacon of normalcy in her strange adolescence. You wouldn’t betray that for the world, surprised at the protective instinct you had for her, maybe a little unnerved at that little thread of violence in you that had pulled taut weeks ago when you’d thought she was in trouble.

You spoke straight from that well of compassion, voice earnest and strong.

“I would never put Jinx in harm’s way.”

His undamaged eyelid fluttered as he searched you, contemplating something, and you swore there was a touch of softness at the corners of his eyes for just a moment as his shoulders seemed to sag just slightly.

“I believe that.”

At the startling admission, there was a sharp flare of light in your chest, like a matchstick scraping across jagged rock.

He didn’t trust you, how could he? But he trusted Jinx, and Jinx trusted you.

He straightened, expression ironing back into one of formality, peering at you in a way that made you feel like a child.

“Not on purpose, perhaps. But accidents happen. Secrets are spilled and rumors spread like wildfire.”

A jarring, mean little stripe of anger licked its way up your spine, directed at the hard wall that had slammed like titanium over his features again, and you stared down at your lap, nose twitching in frustration.

Why did everything have to hold the weight of a threat? Why was your competence always called into play? First your brother, now Silco. Why did your choices never feel like your own?

He walked from behind his desk, adjusting his tie, fixing his cuffs, addressing you as he passed in a swift movement that stirred the short hairs by your ears, tickling your neck. He stopped across the room by the ornate, curling coat rack just beside the door.

“And that’s when things start to get a little messy, hm?” he nearly crooned, pushing his arm through one gold-embellished sleeve.

You stood as well, brushing off some invisible lint off the front of your thighs in order to not be distracted by the vision of him as his coat settled perfectly on his wiry frame.

“Don’t tell anyone about you, Jinx. Anything.” Your voice was unintentionally waspish and you leaned back into the desk for support as his head swiveled toward you. “I get the picture.”

“Do you?”

He began a slow prowl toward you, rolling a pair of velvety, violet gloves over his fingers as he did so, head cocking. You gritted your teeth at his power play, and he didn’t miss the clench of your jaw.

“Do you understand the damage that a big mouth could do?”

Fire licked across your insides and your fists balled at your sides.

“Have you considered anything at all, the target you have on your back now?” he posed. “You work under me, or have you forgotten?”

It was like a warning, you thought, but why only now? Janna, you were so sick of warnings.

He loomed before you, an arm’s length away.

You knew he was just trying to get to you, you knew he was pressing your buttons, but still you had to snap your mouth shut, the beginnings of a retort sharp on your tongue.

“What was that now?"

“I understand my situation,” you snapped, not allowing yourself to be bowled over this time, even as your insides twisted at his proximity. “I’m not stupid.”

His lips twitched and it sent you over the edge.

“I’ve put myself in a risky position, I know that. My brother used to give me so much shit for it. He still does, thinks I should set my sights on a life of shitty Piltovan cigarettes and cheap metal. But that’s not me.” Your voice pitched and you spoke quickly. “I might die. I might die today. People die all the time down here. People die whose only crime is minding their own fucking business. People die-“ you trailed off, eyes narrowing on the white silk of his tie.

“People just die,” you finished, surprised he hadn’t cut you short yet, his gaze flickering oddly across your face. Your eyes met again. “You don’t have to keep threatening me, telling me the stakes, I’ve always known them. I don’t need and I won’t tolerate anyone else questioning my decisions- whether I understand. I make my decisions and I accept my consequences.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been tilting forward in your aggravation until you felt the whisper of his warm breath across your forehead. You quickly retreated, the backs of your thighs hitting the edge of his desk as you leaned back again, and he seemed to almost catch himself as his form unconsciously followed yours.

Your heartbeat was rapid, breath ragged with unknown emotion, and you searched for a semblance of balance, gripping onto the edge of the desk to quell the nervous trembling of your hands.

You swallowed.

“And if you’re going to kill me, just don’t do something boring and tedious like dump me in the river.”

Silco regarded you for a long moment, like he was trying to puzzle out what exactly you were, equal parts wild and daft perhaps. Save for the twitches of his gloved fingers, every inch of him was still.

His voice was soft and achingly low when he finally spoke.

“Sometimes I fear Jinx may be in the hands of a mad woman.”

You exhaled a startled laugh.

“You think she’d accept anything less?”

Silco’s lack of answer spoke volumes.

Clomping boots in the hallway sent him back just a step, but his sharp eyes still studied you with a careful scrutiny.

Jinx burst through the door, carrying a cardboard box that was overflowing with all sorts of gadgetry- tools, metal scraps, all teetering comically as she wobbled on her feet in order to maintain balance.

“Need a bigger box?” you asked, voice catching with tension as you peered around Silco’s form.

“Nah, I think I got it all.”

You shuffled your feet, stepping forward, your shoulder brushing lightly against his, sending a skitter of lightning down your arms and into the tips of your fingers, which you wiggled softly.

His knife-bladed nose cut through the air as he looked down at you at his side, eyes never leaving yours, face so very close.

“Since I’m important enough to know the location of a secret lab,” you spoke solemnly, “Any chance I get elevator privileges?”

As if a spell had been broken, Silco’s eyes rolled upward and he spun, stalking toward the door.

“You are bothersome.”

You grinned and followed.

<3 <3 <3

Well, there it is folks, chapter eight. I’m very sorry for the long wait and I’m sorry that it’s probably shorter than you would like after months of waiting, but I decided to cut 8 and 9 in half.

I put my little nose in some other projects for a time (check those out if you’d like), but now I’m excited to continue this story and have a fresh perspective on where to steer it. Finally getting into some emotional depth and chapter 9 will only continue to expand upon that. Eee! I'm so excited to share!

I really hope you enjoyed and the next chapter will be out MUCH sooner, I promise! Please let me know if you enjoyed, I live off of nice comments and kudos and all that deliciousness. AO3 link if you want!

My inbox is always open! :)

Stay unhinged,

Love, Sulty

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#take a seat #silco x reader #silco #silco x knife girl #silco arcane #arcane #silco x you #jinx #reader insert

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naturepointstheway · 2 years

Text

Flufftober Catch-up, day 4: “Supporting Silly Quirks/Hobbies”

Cats the Musical--mute Zurich!Misto--Tuggoffelees. I’d say the “silly” part of “silly quirk” comes from the other cats’ view of Mistoffelees’ spinny stims. @flufftober

---

Tugger didn’t care one bit how “odd” other cats found Mistoffelees’ curious quirks he did to either calm down, or just let an overwhelming emotion free. Stressed or embarrased? A scritch behind an ear. Happy and jovial? A twirl of his hands, never without his delightful wide, joyous smile. But the best, every time, were his spins. He did them so often, every day, that Tugger had by now a refined idea of the subtlties of his spins that told him Mistoffelees was stressed and needed alone time or, on the opposite end, fully exuberant. They were not the same as his Conjuring Turns, which were always more controlled with great concentration on his face, every muscle taut with energy and strength.

Tugger didn’t care if Munkustrap found Misto’s random spins distracting, or Etcetera found them too weird for her, or if Jellylorum gave him that look of disapproval every time she caught him doing it. They were always a delight (as long as they were happy spins, of course) to watch, and Mistoffelees didn’t seem bothered by others’ disapproval--or he was just very good at hiding it.

One lazy afternoon in the junkyard, most of the other cats having naps in the sun or enjoying some communal grooming, or just staring into the void thinking about their third name, Tugger spotted Mistoffelees stretching out his spine before immediately leaping into a lazy, contented spin. His eyes were half-closed with bliss, arms raised almost lazily above his head, twirling with pointed foot nestled against the back of his other leg.

Then, an idea struck Tugger, spurning him to leap down from his perch, narrowly missing landing on top of Munkustrap below, who was apparently so deep in his grooming he didn’t even notice, or at least didn’t bother with a reaction.

Tugger ambled over to Mistoffelees, announcing his presence with a loud meow, startling Mistoffelees out of his spin, the smaller cat leaping back in alarm.

“Hey, I was watching you and had an idea,” Tugger steamed right on ahead, “You know what could be fun?”

Mistoffelees, despite still looking a little annoyed, quirked an ear toward him.

“A spinning competition!” Tugger declared, “Between you and me.”

A raised eyebrow from Mistoffelees, a look of skepticism.

You know full well he’ll outspin you any day.

Tugger didn’t care--he wanted a little fun to break up this lazy, sleepy afternoon.

“Who can go the longest without getting dizzy?”

Mistoffelees clearly was trying to hold back his smile as he pointed at himself. Tugger grinned, readying himself to do some spins.

“And I’m not talking about your Conjuring Turns, Misto,” he added, “I mean your...non-conjuring turns. Spins.”

Mistoffelees tilted his chin, confidence radiating from every inch of him.

I CAN outspin you any day, Tugger, but I’ll humour you, his posture and face seemed to say.

And he wasn’t wrong, but Tugger really wanted to see if he could outspin Misto somehow.

“Okay, I’m ready--now!”

Tugger ignored the tutting of one of the older cats who clearly didn’t approve of him just wanting some fun with Mistoffelees. Instead he concentrated on his own spins, spotting something in the distance as much as he could to keep from getting dizzy as long as he could.

“Seventeen!” he exalted, stopping right when he was starting to get dizzy, despite the spotting. He looked to see Mistoffelees still spinning. “And of course you’re still going.”

Mistoffelees’ face broke into a grin as he did a last few spins before stopping with a flourish of his arms, and a self-proud gesture to his chest.

“Okay you win this time, but that was just a warm up,” Tugger said, shaking out his limbs, ready for a second round. “How many did you do?”

Mistoffelees held up his front paws, counting up to just shy of thirty--and that wasn’t even a Conjuring Turn.

“Again, but opposite direction and other leg?” Tugger himself found that he preferred one leg over the other if doing several spins in a row.

Mistoffelees nodded, readying himself again, as did Tugger.

This time, Tugger managed fourteen--and naturally, Mistoffelees again beat him well into the twenties.

Tugger, you may as well give up now.

He ignored that thought, still determined to try. After taking a moment or two to stop feeling light-headed from so many spins in such a short time, Tugger had another idea.

“Okay, you know how we were spotting the whole time, Misto? How about not?”

Mistoffelees again tilted his chin, puffing out his chest, ready for the challenge both knew he would, again, win.

“Alright, let’s go...now!”

As he expected, he got dizzy pretty quickly, managing a round ten before having to stop and lie down to stop his head spinning. Meanwhile, Mistoffelees kept going non-stop, not appearing to have noticed Tugger had stopped for several spins. But perhaps he then did so, and stopped, stumbling only a little, managing to stay standing and strong.

Yep. You knew he’d win every time.

“Okay, Misto, you win.” Tugger sighed, turning on his side to look up at a very smug Mistoffelees. “I knew you would anyway. Was pretty fun, not gonna lie.”

Mistoffelees bounced in joy, spinning a few more times before settling down on the ground next to Tugger, raising a paw to begin grooming it.

“How do you do it?” Tugger marvelled, “It’s almost like...”

A pause in the grooming, Misto tilting his head as he looked at him.

Tugger grinned with a wink. “It’s almost like you’re a magical cat. Little wonder your Conjuring Turns are so dazzling. You could spin all day and not get dizzy. And here I am on the ground after, what, ten spins with no spotting at all.”

Mistoffelees purred loud and proud, smiling as he resumed his grooming.

Magical Mr Mistoffelees. Indeed.

#Cats the Musical #Rum Tum Tugger #Mr Mistoffelees #Tuggoffelees #flufftober2022

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august-writing · 1 year

Text

Master plan - drabble

Just some fluff with Vinni and Rhyin

Vinni sat primly on the bench outside the Health and Safety department, her hands occupied fidgeting with her sash. It was a lovely late summer afternoon. The tree beside her perch cast dappled light, freckling her in sunlight. She walked past the spot every day for most of her life. She'd sat just like this at the end of her first day; tense and waiting for her father to pick her up. Of course he stopped coming when she'd become brave enough on her own, and she'd left the bench to be used by others. But, well, then she made friends with Rhyin, and he'd sit out here waiting for her.

So here she was. Waiting. And trying very hard to calm down and think about her master plan to get him to go dancing. With her.

Vinni pressed her hands to her cheeks, willing the warmth to disperse into her fingers. Her face felt so hot. She bit her lip imagining how red-faced she must look.

Silly, silly girl. You haven't even seen him yet. You're gonna embarrass yourself before you start talking.

She jumped up to her feet and dropped her hands to her side, taking a composing breath. "Just act natural," she whispered. Her head tilted slightly in confusion. What do I naturally look like? Oh no, he's so smart and observant. He'll notice something is off. Oh no, oh no what if he asks me what's wrong?

Her hands came up and pressed against her mouth, holding her pounding heartbeat in her throat. Gulping didn't seem to shove it back so her hands would have to do.

I thought figuring out your feelings was supposed to help. Now everything's a bigger mess.

"Vinni?"

A jolt raced through her, crashing into her fingers still clamped over her mouth. It was Rhyin's voice. Of course it's Rhyin you goose, this is where you always meet.

"Hm?"

She turned around to face him and...oh no he looked so confused. Which was kinda cute how much expression he fit in his eyebrows. He always looks so distressed and serious, it was so funny.

"What are you...doing?" A quirk of a smile pulled the expression all together into endearing.

"Hmm, it's comfy?" Vinni mumbled through her hands, sure that she looked ridiculous and red. Would her face ever feel normal?

"Okay...well, uh…" He trailed off, glancing around.

Abruptly, Vinni took a seat. She wanted to open her mouth and tease him for being nervous about whatever—what was making him hesitant?—but she didn't trust herself to behave right then.

Rhyin noticed her move and sat down next to her.

Oh no. He's so close. Can he hear my heartbeat? There's no way he hasn't noticed my blush. I'm such a mess, my plan is gonna fail. Vinni ventured a peak to the side and caught him staring. Panicked, she froze like a deer.

"So how was today?" Rhyin calmly asked.

"Oh, it was good. A bit busy but, you know, that's normal. You?"

"Nothing interesting. Except Ketsler. But again, that's normal."

Vinni's nervous energy spilled out into a laugh. "He sure is!"

Rhyin raised an eyebrow. Oh no.

"Vinni, are you sure today was normal? You seem...upset."

Yep I'm busted. Not like I'd ever really tried to keep something a secret from him. Oh well, time to get on with it.

"Well I'm not upset exactly, just nervous." Her gaze dropped to her lap, and her hands busy at her sash again.

He folded his arms, and she took it to mean he was listening.

"My sister is having a party. She is so excited about it she's even gotten my mom to be happy it's happening. I think it'll be fun. She's inviting her friends and they're from outside the capitol so it's kinda big. Also that means they know the best dances; those folk ones. I was gonna ask Ketsler if he wanted to come, but he's gonna be busy which means it's just me. So well, do you want to come?" She looked up at him, searching his eyes for an answer.

Somehow Rhyin folded his arms tighter, and looked more sceptical with his eyebrow raised. "Vinni. Your brother hates me."

"No! He doesn't, he just doesn't like you for some reason. Besides, he won't be there."

"I won't know anyone but you, and everyone is going to be upset that you brought me."

Vinni rolled her eyes. "I don't think they'll really notice. We don't have to stay the whole time."

"Why would we stay at all then?"

"Free food?"

Rhyin sighed. "I don't dance."

"Oh, well that's easy, I'll just teach you. Unless you meant you don't dance because you don't like it, but that's silly. So really you have to dance with me."

She expected him to frown at her, or at least huff. But no, he was smiling?

Why can't you smile more? I wish I could make you happy all the time... Just tell me what you need. Oh, it hurt. Like a weight on her heart, dragging her back. She wanted to grab his hand, to sit up next to him and squish her own happiness over.

"Okay, fine I'll come." He leaned back against the bench, looking up at the tree.

"Really!" She gripped her knees, a grin across her face.

"Sure, just don't make me talk to a lot of people."

"Okay, I won't." She hummed happily.

My master plan worked. For all your genius tactics I've tricked you into having fun. You're doomed, you fool, this is only the beginning of many.

#text #writing #my writing #my story #drabble #vinni #rhyin #vinni/rhyin #keepers #oc #original character #original story #writers on tumblr #salt and light

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

journey, m | ot7

full title: journey to the dick

pairing(s): ot7 x reader

summary: A Cinderella story but it's a dick pic. Yup, that's right. You find a dick pic on your phone and make it your mission to find the owner of said dick. Time to fuck the seven hottest guys you know! Onwards!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of alcohol consumption / partying; horny crack, everyone radiates chaotic energy and wants to fuck; reader is comparing their dicks to above-mentioned dick pic so there's a lot of talk about dick, did I mention there's a lot of dick? dick; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics in some scenes, m-receiving oral, cowgirl, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking, handjob, thigh fucking, dance studio sex, overstimulation, fingering, dry humping, 69, face-sitting, photography during sex, m-masturbation, being cummed on (neck / chest [a cum necklace LMAO] + hand), film studio sex, wall-fucking, being overheard / walked in on during sex (and not giving a shit, oops), implied car sex, implied threesome); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader; each member has their own scene

appearances based on the 'Butter' jacket photoshoots yes, the opening line is #50 of my prompt list LMAO title comes from Journey to the West, except it's dick because that's way more important. also, yeah, this is basically a harem hentai, but it's you and BTS, woohoo! :D

"Whose dick pic is this and why it is so inspirational?"

Park Jimin craned his head over to look at your phone, black hair brushing against your forehead. "Damn! That is an incredible dick."

"What are you guys talking about?" Kim Taehyung muttered, yanking your phone out of your hand and peering at the screen. His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up into his dark brown hair. "Oh, ho! What a high-quality specimen of a dick."

"Why is it on my phone though?" you frowned, taking your phone back from Taehyung. You were sitting next to Jimin on their sofa, contemplating the great mysteries of the world. The black phone case had a cute mouse holding a large sewing needle and sitting next to a spool of sky-blue thread. "I didn't take this one, sadly."

"Maybe you were real drunk," Jimin offered.

"I haven't been real drunk since I projectile vomited in your guys' parking lot."

"That was last week," Taehyung reminded you, smiling amusedly.

You narrowed your eyes. "Look, it was a bad breakup."

"You went on, like, two dates," Jimin laughed, smacking you in the arm.

"It had potential!"

"Yeah, a potential dumpster fire," Taehyung added, rolling his eyes as he sat down on the other side of you. "I know you go for the quiet, nerdy ones, but you're just–"

"Brash? Forward? Ready to sit on dick at any second?"

Jimin was being very helpful.

Taehyung shoved Jimin's grinning face away. "It's a conflict of personality and yours is quite intense, so maybe you should try and be more open-minded about other options."

You frowned, not enjoying this pep talk that you probably needed. In fact, you avoided said pep talk at all costs. You reached back and yanked on Taehyung's ponytail. He prodded you in the left breast in response, glaring. You smacked his hand. He smacked your hand back.

Hey, when you don't have a good reply, resort to violence, right?

You looked back down at your phone. Swollen, red-purple, a good thickness. Nice length too, so hard it was sticking up without the assistance of a hand. You could spy the white pre-cum beading at the engorged tip. It was a strangely clear and well-composed photo. Black boxer briefs. Blue jeans, white shirt.

Fuck.

Could literally be any guy in the history of existence.

You turned the photo to Jimin. "Someone must have taken it last night when I couldn't find my phone for those two hours."

Jimin nodded. "Yeah, seems like it."

"You remember anyone in this outfit?"

Jimin snorted, wrinkling his cute nose. "Everyone was in jeans and a white t-shirt. 'Cause there was that wet t-shirt contest later that night, remember?"

You scratched your head. Ah, yes. Taehyung won. Man looked fucking amazing thanks to working out his arms and chest the past month. Was it solely for the purpose of a silly party gimmick? Maybe. You weren’t complaining though. You did what any good friend would do.

"Oh, right. Who won?"

Taehyung grabbed your shoulders and violently shook you. "I did! Obviously – ah, fuck you!" His tone quickly changed when he realized you were laughing like a maniac, doubling over in a pile of giggles with Jimin. "You're the worst," Taehyung pouted, holding his arms protectively.

"I'm just kidding, don't be mad," you chuckled, reaching over to hug him. He accepted it, but not without continuing to pout. You nuzzled his neck, placing soft kisses on his skin. "I bought you your favorite breakfast when you were hung over this morning, come on now."

His dark brown eyes shifted back and forth before letting out a long, deep sigh and hugging you back. Damn. He had a nice hug now thanks to these arms and his broad chest. He smelled like warm chamomile.

"I worked hard for these," he mumbled.

You patted him on the back before releasing him and holding up your phone. Back to the first order of business.

"Is this your dick?"

Taehyung scrunched up his face. "No? But I don't look at my dick at that angle either."

You puffed your cheeks and turned to Jimin.

"Is this your dick?"

Jimin plucked your phone from your hand. He tilted his head to one side. Then the other.

"Lemme check."

Then he stood up and started walking to the direction of the bathroom. Still holding your device.

"Uh..."

You trailed off.

Taehyung blinked.

The bathroom door closed.

Pants unzipped.

"PARK JIMIN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"You have to be kidding me, Jimin."

"Be reasonable. I can't get hard from this dick pic. Don't you want to know the owner of said dick?"

You pursed your lips and squinted at your phone, standing in Park Jimin's and Kim Taehyung's shared bathroom, because they were roommates and your friends. The mysterious discovery of said dick pic from last night's party sparked this Journey to the Dick, because it was a very impressive, intriguing, and, most importantly, inspirational specimen of the male genitalia. Clearly you had to investigate.

For science.

Which was why you were standing in the bathroom with Jimin's sweatpants off and begrudgingly getting to your knees. Begrudgingly, because...

"I thought we were supposed to be ordering pizza and watching Running Man."

"We are," Jimin answered cheerfully. "After you suck my dick."

You glanced at the photo once more.

It remained, indeed, very rousing of certain interests.

You gripped the waistband of Jimin's black boxer briefs.

Hmm...

Hold on.

You stood up suddenly and took your phone from him, sudden determination overtaking you.

"I have to do this correctly."

Jimin blinked rapidly, jumping with a yelp as you flung open the bathroom door to reveal Taehyung throwing himself into the wall, coughing awkwardly and hiding his face with his hands as you marched out purposefully. Jimin was still pants-less.

"In the proper order!"

Jimin and Taehyung shared a confused look.

"The hell does she mean, proper order?'

kim namjoon.

“Namjoon, may I look at your dick?”

Kim Namjoon looked up from his book and blinked at you over his round glasses.

“Pardon?” he replied in English.

“Your dick,” you responded in kind, in English and with succinct pronunciation. “Your penis. Your willy. Your ding-dong. Your–”

Namjoon removed a hand from his book and held it up. “My what?” he interrupted you, laughing.

Oh good, back to Korean so you didn’t have to flex all the different ways you knew how to say cock in English. “Take off your pants.”

He blinked rapidly, innocently sitting there in his flowy white button-up and brown pants. He even had suspenders. Fancy man. He had dyed his hair recently, a steel midnight blue. That’s how Namjoon was, attractive and book-smart. Absolutely won the lottery when it came to genes and brains. You couldn’t see the title of the book he was reading, but it was probably a self-help or philosophy book. He was into those nowadays, exploring the human mind, while you were more into exploring the physical aspects of humanity.

Fucking.

Luckily, fucking didn’t usually require reading.

(Usually, heh.)

“I have no objections to your proposition. I’m just confused on why so suddenly.”

You dropped your canvas tote bag on the ground. Your red, short summer dress covered in yellow lemons flared out as you shifted your weight to one hip. Your phone was in one of your hands and you waved it around like a baton as you talked.

“Aren’t I usually sudden when I want to fuck?”

Namjoon chuckled, rich and deep, shutting his book and putting it aside. Probably memorized his page number. Big sexy brain and all that jazz. A fantastic characteristic of his.

He also had a big sexy dick you were asking to see right now.

“You are, but sometimes you offer to buy me a meal or a snack first.”

“I mean, sure, if you want–”

He lifted a hand and cocked a finger towards himself, smiling. When he smiled, his dimples appeared. That was your favorite feature on Namjoon. You bounced over excitedly and sat on the couch, skirt flipping up and exposing your thighs, still holding your phone.

“I’m on a mission.”

He quirked an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses detective-style. “What kind of mission?”

You pointed to your phone. “Do you remember that party we went to, the one with the wet t-shirt contest?” You lifted your arm and flexed your rather defined bicep that made Namjoon raise his eyebrows and mouth a wow under his breath. Consistent handys really did the trick when it came to bicep muscle definition. “You remember, right? You showed off your guns.”

He burst out laughing, waving a hand. “They are not guns.”

“Sure, they are. I could do a lot of social justice with your biceps, Namjoon.”

He shook his head, grinning, dimples on full display. “And what’s with the dress? You don’t usually wear such a cute style.”

You ticked your phone to the apartment front door. “I’m meeting Seokjin later, but he said he’s going to play another round of bowling because Jungkook kicked his ass again. But anyway, back to what I was saying…”

“Ah, yes. I think I remember Jimin mentioning something to me now.”

You brightened, unlocking your phone and holding up the screen. “Right! I’m looking for the owner of this dick.”

His eyes widened and Namjoon leaned forward, readjusting his glasses again. “Wow. That’s quite a clear picture.” Then he coughed and averted his eyes.

You nodded quickly. “Well? Did you take this picture?”

He frowned and sat back against the sofa, sucking in a breath and ticking his head. “Mmm, maybe? I was pretty drunk. I don’t remember what I did…”

“Hah… Does this look like your dick, then?”

“How would I know?” he chuckled. “I don’t see my dick from that angle and I don’t have sober photoshoots with my dick.”

You pursed your lips. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to fuck then. Drop the pants.”

The thing about Namjoon was that he was a very reasonable man. You had a problem and proposed a solution and he, an avid learner who liked searching for answers to the great mysteries of this world, had the means to help you out on your quest, so he did. In addition, he thought you were hot, you thought he was hot, and you’d already fucked a couple times before Journey to the Dick, so the mutual agreement was already there.

Splendid!

The other thing about Namjoon was that he really liked to make you work for it.

Slightly less splendid.

“Are you choking?”

You squinted at him and flipped him the bird. He was well-versed with popular Western hand gestures.

Namjoon nodded sagely. “That’s good.”

And he put his hand back onto the back of your head and shoved your mouth down onto his cock once more.

You had half a second to breathe again before air was forcefully taken from you, Namjoon now holding you there, nose-first into his crotch, sighing contentedly as he expanded in your mouth. You planted your hands onto his strong thighs and pushed, but his hand didn’t budge. The safe signal was three taps and you weren’t tapping out yet. You glared and Namjoon closed his eyes, smirking slowly.

He left his round glasses on.

‘Course he did.

Damn you, Namjoon!

You reached up and pawed at the buttons of his white shirt, making Namjoon open his eyes to see what you were doing as you unbuttoned them rather deftly for someone who had his dick filling up their throat. He looked down at you, cocking an eyebrow. You cheekily cocked one back, poking his pecs with your pinky.

He grinned. “Hm? What’s that?”

You clenched your throat around the head of his cock and he gasped, losing grip for a split second.

In that split second, you threw his shirt open, glorious his tan skin and large muscular pecs now in view, and slapped your hands down onto his thighs, instantly starting a fast, rough pace, curving your neck with every swallow, sandwiching his cock between tongue and top of your mouth, pulsing your wet muscles all over his length, staring at that well-built chest, watching the muscles ripple with his sudden, abrupt inhale.

“Oh, fuck!”

Sometimes you let Namjoon have the reigns, but this time you were on a mission, although it was a little distracting now because presently you had an unobstructed view of Kim Namjoon with his shirt open, head thrown back, midnight blue hair fanning over the sofa, his full lips open and panting, tendons in his neck tensing, broad shoulders flexed, leading down his defined chest and abs, core tight from your intense pace, thighs hard under your hands, cock swollen and thick, pulsating in your mouth. His large hands planted on top of yours, squeezing them with his.

The three taps applied to him too.

Instead, Namjoon moaned your name and gripped your hands.

“T-The picture… f-fuuuuuuuck…”

Shit, that’s right.

You reluctantly slowed, tongue swiping all over the underside of his dick, tracing the veins, moaning hotly around his cock. He lowered his chin, panting hard, dark brown eyes half-open and framed by his lovely silver glasses. It was him who reached for your phone and unlocked it. He remembered your pattern lock and you had only told him once. All your consistent fucks knew how to unlock your phone.

That’s how you had so many pictures of, ahem, good times.

He placed the phone on his hip and his head fell back against the sofa, inhaling deeply as you continued lapping at the base of the head, slowly sucking on it at the same time to keep him hard.

“Mmm, fuck, that’s nice…”

You mashed the tip of your tongue against the slit and coated it with pre-cum.

“Ah, come on, look already and compare,” Namjoon chuckled in his deep voice, raising a hand to pet your head. “Then you can finish me.”

You popped your mouth off reluctantly. “Hmm.” You placed a few fingers on his cock and looked at it, positioning it to the correct angle that matched the photo. “Huh, it’s pretty close. But you have this noticeable vein here, and I think the head of your cock is slightly different…” You squinted and brought your face rather close to his stiff length. “The skin tone seems right, but it’s not exact, and I think you’re bigger…”

Namjoon wrapped his hand around his dick and smacked your cheek with the head.

“Oi!”

You puffed your cheeks, strings of saliva and pre-cum covering your face.

He grinned, dimples on full display. “Oops.”

You jabbed your finger at your phone. “I’m doing an investigation here!”

He shrugged cheekily. “You said it wasn’t exact. Get up.”

You put your phone on top of his book on the side table and glared at him. “Well, yeah, but no need to bop me,” you grumbled, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, standing up, and removing your panties as Namjoon reached over to his pants and pulled out a condom from the pocket.

You did say you were coming. Namjoon liked to be prepared for you.

“You said you liked it,” he mused as you straddled his lap.

“I do when I’m notin the middle of an important mission,” you huffed, picking up the hem of your dress and revealing your wet pussy, chin cocked in defiance.

“You don’t have to sit on my dick then,” he said, pausing with the condom right over his cock.

You frowned. “Hurry up.”

He cocked an eyebrow, dark brown eyes trapping you in his allure. “Doesn’t seem like you want it.”

You narrowed your eyes.

Growled.

Then you smacked his hands away and rolled down the condom yourself before sliding onto him with one swift motion, clenching your jaw at the sensation of being quickly and solidly filled up, not giving him or you time to adjust. Namjoon tensed his neck, grinning, large hands coming up to firmly grip your hips. Your own came up to grab his biceps and squeeze them, mustering up your most indignant scowl. He chuckled, smirking as you pulsed your walls around him.

“Hold your dress so I can fuck you.”

“Maybe I want to do the moving.”

He clicked his tongue and rammed his hips up into you, making you hiss at the feeling of his cock being driven into your tightness. Your nails dug into his arms, breaths shallowing into rapid gasps as he continued, firmly and roughly fucking you from below, hard thighs flexing and smacking into your inner thighs and ass.

“Hold your dress,” he repeated, voice low and commanding.

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered, reaching down with one hand to yank up your dress, pulling it up high so both you and Namjoon could watch as he very deliberately and very forcefully thrust upwards into your tight hole, smirking wider as he witnessed your expression and the strain of keeping the pleasure off your face.

“Don’t have to give orders if…” He jerked up particularly hard, hitting your sweet spot, causing you to gasp breathlessly. “You…” Smack! You bit you lip, moan trapped in your chest. “Just…” Smack!

“F-Fuck…”

“Listen.”

And then Namjoon seized your hips and fucked you hard and fast with you barely holding on his shoulder with one hand and the other clutching your dress, moaning his name shamelessly to his own face. Namjoon wasn’t a gloater. His face was serious and concentrated, brows furrowed and intent on giving maximum pleasure, maintaining clear control as you rapidly lost it, allowing and trusting him to lead you into carnal desires.

You leaned forward, hot exhale on his neck, changing the angle and letting him hit you deeper, tightening around him. You heard his breath hitch, hissing out your name. Your whispered against his jaw, close to his ear.

“You like it better when I don’t listen, Namjoon.”

So close, so close, so close.

He snickered, dark, devious, sensual.

“I dolove punishing you with my cock.”

You slid your hand into his midnight blue hair and shuddered, pleasure blooming from your core in heated throbs, savoring the intensity of the orgasm he gave you as Namjoon groaned in your ear, slamming you down onto his hard, twitching cock and moaning, spilling his own into the condom, thoroughly enjoying the vicious massage of your spasming pussy. You pressed your lips to his temple, flinching with the shivers that came after, riding out the peak by rocking your hips lightly, enjoying the fullness he gave you.

“Doesn’t seem like a punishment. I’m having a lot of fun,” you taunted, panting and mirthful.

He gave your ass a playful smack and you squeezed his length from top to bottom.

“We have time for round two,” he murmured, nibbling on your ear.

Kim Namjoon was a very reasonable man.

kim seokjin.

"Gah, fuck!"

"As a matter of fact, yes, let's."

Kim Seokjin nearly tripped and fell against the doorframe, gawking at you. His expressive brown eyes went wide, mouth open enough for a nice ice lolly to be placed between those plump lips.

"Why are you in my bed? Where are your clothes? Why are you holding Pink Bean like that?!"

You sighed exaggeratedly. Here we go. "I had a nice dress but Namjoon took it and said I can't have it back until after." You squeezed Seokjin's large Pink Bean plush that he usually kept on his bed, a fluffy representation of a boss from his favorite PC game, MapleStory. It had a bubblegum pink head, light purple horns, and a cute :3 face. You squashed it with your breasts and looked up at him, on your knees with your feet tucked under your ass, missing all your articles of clothing thanks to Kim Namjoon.

Such cute clothes only for him? I don’t think so.

Seokjin turned bright red, sputtering.

"D-D-Don't do that to Pink Bean!"

"Why not? You've fucked me from behind and I used Pink Bean as my chest support."

He strode across the room with two steps, his long legs making it easy, looking handsome and summery in his pastel yellow shirt and shorts two-piece set, flapping his hands helplessly.

"That was a special case!"

You started bouncing on Pink Bean, you and your tits. Seokjin's brown eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he actually tripped at the end of his bed, falling face-first with a high-pitched yelp.

"Seokjin, I need to see your dick."

He yanked his head up, chestnut brown hair flying everywhere, shooting you a confused glare.

"Yah! You can't just show up naked and start demanding dick while abusing Pink Bean!"

You reached up and scooped your breasts forward, squashing them between the purple horns, nipples poking out above Pink Bean's head. Seokjin looked like he was about to pass out. Probably from loss of blood to his head.

You balanced your phone in your cleavage, inspirational dick pic between your tits.

"Is this your dick, Seokjinnie?" you asked sweetly.

He started, squinting at the screen between your tits. "The heck? What is that?"

"A dick. Is it yours?"

Seokjin made a disgusted face.

"Are they really that ugly? Mine sure as hell isn't."

"Oh, so it's not? You know for sure?"

Seokjin scoffed. "Come on, there's no way that could be mine, look–"

And he sat up and yanked his shorts and underwear off, slapping them down on the floor and spreading his legs, presenting his very hard and quite pretty dick and balls. He huffed triumphantly, planting his hands in his hips.

"How could that thing compare to–gah!"

You crawled over Pink Bean, shoving the plush against your stomach and placing yourself between Seokjin's long legs, oblivious to his shriek of surprise, holding up his shirt as you compared his cock to the one on your phone.

"What the–where did you g-get that picture?!"

Your hot breath wafted over his twitching length as you held it delicately with your fingertips, ass up in the air, tilting his dick to adjust the angle so he mirrored the photo. "Remember that party with the wet t-shirt contest?” you explained nonchalantly. “The one where I said you'd totally win because of your broad shoulders, but Taehyung got more votes because he had been working out and looking all buff recently?"

Seokjin was gasping as you held up your phone. Hmm, not the same thickness. Plus, he seemed harder, sticking out straighter than this photo dick. But there was a small mole in his dick that seemed to match the picture. The length is pretty spot-on too. You scooted closer, cradling his cock with your palm and coaxing it with your fingertips, ass bouncing on Pink Bean's head.

"Oh, fuck..."

"Anyway, someone snapped this photo and I've been trying to figure out who, but everyone was drunk and, if I recall correctly, you were on a table dancing with a pool noodle and belting Kim Yonja's 'Amor Fati', so I don't think you remember much from that night."

Seokjin's voice was pitched, strained from holding back.

"I remember those... oh, fuck... those shorts you were wearing... ah, with your ass hanging out on the bottom... fuck, wanted to bend you over... but yeah, after that..."

Then you yelped when you felt his hands on your head dragging you forward and pressing your open lips to his cock.

"Ah, yeees..."

"Seokjin, wait–mphf!"

He shoved the head of his cock into your lips and looked down. You narrowed your eyes as he began to gently hump your face, filling your mouth with the hardness. You sucked in your cheeks a little, molding your mouth to him, still giving him your best annoyed face.

"Is it my dick?" he gasped, pushing deeper.

You made a confused noise and Seokjin frowned at you.

"Yes or no?"

Seriously? You held up your hand and hovered it in the air, wiggling your fingers up and down, the universal sign of–

"What do you mean, maybe?! Oh, it's because a phone camera isn't good enough to catch the majesty of my cock, is that it?"

You could had been annoyed, but then you thought about it. He brought up a good point. You hadn't considered that. Still, the shape wasn't exact though. A phone camera couldn't alter dick angle, right?

No time to think about it because Seokjin rammed his entire length into your mouth and down your throat in your moment of contemplation.

"Mmmphf!"

"Just, ah, don't move, let me fuck your face real quick–"

You didn't really expect anything less, so you pushed him down, sliding his shirt up his torso, changing the angle so you weren't straining your neck. Seokjin fell onto his elbows, hands letting go but hips still moving, groaning as you enclosed your mouth around him and rubbed your tongue all over.

"Ah, your ass is so sexy, damn, bounce it for me..."

He seemed to forget that in order to do that, you had to hump Pink Bean like a dog in heat but, hey, when the man who called himself World Wide Handsome (drunk and sober, that was the kind of man Kim Seokjin was) asks you to twerk for him, you do as you are told and give Pink Bean the best hump that plush is ever going to have.

"Fuuuuuuuck, yes, your ass is so perky and juicy, fuck, like a sweet peach..."

You tried not to choke with laughter in his dick, but the action made your throat muscles squeeze and spasm around the head, immediately making it jerk and swell at the added simulation, causing Seokjin to gasp your name and fiercely clutch his sheets.

"Fuck, yes...!"

You looked up, cocking an eyebrow, seeing his brown hair messy and fallen over his forehead, eyelids fluttering, panting as you took over the pace, firmly enveloping him all the way to the base, sandwiching him between your tongue and roof of your mouth, dragging the head over the slick wetness, pulsing expertly around his hardness. His dainty pink tongue flitted over his lips and made them glisten, full, plump, sexy as hell.

"I'm so glad Namjoon took your clothes," he wheezed.

This guy really said whatever thought that popped into his handsome head.

You smirked around his cock and wiggled your eyebrows.

Then you grabbed his hips and really gave it to him, fast and tight, angling your head so he slid into your throat deeply and easily, sending Seokjin into a sputter of curses, prayers, and blessings to who-knew-what, gripping fistfuls of his sheets and throwing his head back, beautiful neck on display and broad shoulders flexed, moaning loudly.

You almost stopped, awed by his perfectly sensual posture.

Then Seokjin thrust his crotch into your lips and gasped your name, shooting down your throat in swift, tense jolts, forcing you to stop staring at him and hurriedly gulp it all down, squeezing your eyes shut so you could concentrate, sucking in a short breath, and making him yelp, flinching to cram more of the head into your constricting throat.

You prodded his stomach sharply and drew an ‘X’, telling him to stop so you could swallow.

“B-But…”

You gave him a bunch of other hand gestures and none of them were nice. It contrasted the way you were lapping at his cock, coaxing him back to full hardness with soft tongue and delicate pushes against the roof of your mouth. He lifted one of his hands and started messing with yours, the one on his stomach making obscene hand signals. You felt him try and grab your fingers, poke at your palm, and, finally, grab your hand and tug it up, shoving your fingers into his mouth.

You popped your mouth off his cock in surprise. “Hey!”

Seokjin looked at you with giant brown eyes like a dog caught with a treat in his mouth. “Mmphf?”

You made a confused face at him.

His tongue started sliding between them, licking your joints and pads of your fingers, wiggling all around, covering you with his saliva and sending shivers over your skin at the strange sensation. You could feel the power in that squirming muscle, his brown eyes watching your reaction, your own eyes fixated on the way it looked, three of your fingers surrounded and crammed into those lush, soft, pillow-like lips, squirming, sensual tongue slipping between them, dripping saliva down your palm and back of your hand.

“H-Hey…”

It was bizarre, feeling an odd juxtaposition of the submissive nature of the act, and yet he was deliberate and forceful about it, staring pointedly as the tip of his tongue snaked out from the side of his lips, licking the side of your pinky.

“S… Seokjin…?”

He reached up and pulled your hand out of his mouth, the pads of your fingers dragging on his lower lip, wet streaks of saliva painted down his chin.

The ghost of a smirk on his open mouth, eyebrow ticking arrogantly.

You blinked at him, unaware that you were clutching Pink Bean with your other hand so hard that your knuckles were white.

Then Seokjin grinned and wrapped your wet hand around his dick and started jacking himself off with it.

“Hey! I want that in me!”

“What? Gah!”

Somehow, you convinced him to fuck you – read: threw Seokjin down on his own bed, put a condom on him, rolled him back on top of you and guided his cock to your pussy before grabbing his ass and yanking down, making you both gasp as he entered you with one smooth stroke, your back on top of Pink Bean.

Pink Bean was really seeing a lot of your naked body today, just like Kim Seokjin.

“F-Fuck– yah!”

That was his noise of protest as you yanked his yellow shirt over his head, throwing it as far as you could, out his still open bedroom door.

“Sorry, needed to get rid of useless things.”

“I like that shirt!”

You grabbed onto his wide shoulders and rolled your hips up into his crotch, wrapping your thighs around his waist and squeezing. He sputtered at the intense feeling of your pussy wrapping around him, arms shaking to hold himself up, brown hair messy and wild over his forehead, brown eyes wide in indignation.

“Sorry, my bad, I’ll pick it up after I get another out of this magnificent dick,” you quipped.

Seokjin turned red, unaccustomed to someone other than himself complimenting him.

“Why are you hanging onto me like a monkey – oh my God…!”

You used his mattress and Pink Bean to bounce up and down on his dick from below, fingers tangled in his hair, wetly smacking your hips into his crotch, panting his name into his ear, your cock feels so fucking good, love the way you fill me, fuck me up, Seokjin, giving him the praise that he wanted and that breathless moan he liked, the one where you added a bit of underlying mischievous depth, pulling back one of your hands and tracing his plush lips, his mouth opening and pink tongue lolling out, puling you into that wetness, locking his gaze with yours.

Soft and tight around two of your fingers as you slapped your hips into his, losing a bit of your power now that a hand was occupied, intense sparks shooting from your fingertips to your core, his tongue sliding sensually between them, your juices leaking out, getting wetter and wetter, head emptying and replaced with sinful pleasure as you stared into those dark brown orbs with blown-out pupils, sparkling eyes smiling at you.

Seokjin took over and started fucking you into his mattress (and Pink Bean).

Both of you completely forgot about the dick pic.

min yoongi.

"Ah, fuck, I forgot, I need to see your dick, f-fuck!"

"It's," Smack! "A," Smack! "Little," Smack! "Busy at the moment."

"Yoongi!"

The bed shifted and hit the wall.

"Oh no," came the most unbothered oh no behind you.

"Your damn neighbors are going to complain again," you hissed, planting your hands on the mattress and lifting your upper body up a little to scowl at him. "They're so annoying."

"Yeah, that's why I like fucking you," Min Yoongi snickered, looking back with his curly black mullet in complete disarray, smirking lips dark and swollen from making out. He raised an eyebrow at your displeased expression, dark brown eyes flashing. "Something wrong? Not rough enough for you?"

You narrowed your eyes. "I need to see your dick when it's fully hard."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sure. After this one."

"Yoongi–"

He cut you off. "Hand," he ordered.

You extended your left hand out back to him and he grabbed your forearm, long fingers gripping tightly, before proceeding his railing of your pussy from behind, your ass smacking into his crotch repeatedly.

"Yoongi – ah, oof!"

You slipped and fell face first into his pillows, gasping at the altered depth of each thrust, hard and deliberate, filling you up as you clenched around him, following his rhythm by pushing back with your hips and moaning as Yoongi slowly built up the pace, bottoming out each time.

"Why do you need to see my dick?" he asked nonchalantly as if he wasn't pounding you with it right this very second.

"Because, oh fuck, someone left a, fuck, Yoongi, yes, dick pic on my phone, aaah, right there, fuck, you're so fucking good, that night of the party, the one with the wet t-shirt c-contest, fuck, Yoongi, I love your dick so much, fuck!"

"Why would I do that?" he grunted, spanking your ass with his free hand and making you claw at his sheets, pain seeping into the pleasure and amplifying it, skin prickling hot, causing the excessive dripping between your joined legs. The headboard was now repeatedly smacking the wall.

"I dunno, you were drunk too, do you remember, mmm, yes, harder, yeah, like that, telling Taehyung you loved him and that he was your favorite little alien child?"

Behind you, you heard Yoongi choke slightly in embarrassment.

"No, I do not..."

"See, maybe you jacked off and snapped a memoir on my phone."

Yoongi let go of your arm and firmly gripped your ass with two hands.

"Memoirs are written."

"Maybe if they wrote their name, I wouldn't be on this journey – ah, Yoongi!"

You grabbed fistful of sheets and snapped yourself back up, your hair messy and cascading down your shoulders, meeting every vicious slap of Yoongi's hips to yours, his balls hitting your soaked clit and sending stings of satisfaction from your core to your limbs, so good, moaning his name, his growl of yours punctuated by his nails digging into your ass, give it to me, come on, and you fucked him back, pressing your palms into his sheets and feeling the shuddering ecstasy again and again, deep pulses tightening around his hardness, making him groan with want.

"One more, one more, I'm so fucking close, fuck..."

"You've been close, you're holding back, you're a dick, ow!"

Yoongi smacked your ass particularly hard and you clenched your core so tight that he gasped and probably delayed his orgasm even further.

"You're the one asking to see it," he panted, adjusting the angle to shove you further into his bed even though it wasn't possible, and continued his relentless assault in your pussy.

"If anyone has a nice dick, it's you, you bas... fuuuuuuuck, Yoongi, yes, I'm gonna c-cum, fuck!"

The pleasure shot through you like lightning, waves of tortuous triumph as you clutched his pillow and screamed his name into it, your juices leaking out from around his pumping cock and splattering onto his crotch and inner thighs, drenching his balls, saturating his skin with your sweet scent, Yoongi moaning your name and squeezing your ass as he fully sheathed himself in your shaking walls and exploded into the condom, his whole length twitching and shivering inside your spasming pussy, your ass prickling on pain, both of you gasping for air.

Someone on the other side of the wall was banging it and told you two to shut the fuck up, or at least you assumed that's what that muffled yelling was.

You and Yoongi ignored it.

"Are you... hah... okay?" Yoongi panted, rubbing your ass and kneading it.

"Of course, I am, what do you take me for, an amateur?" you chuckled, lifting your head, your breathing erratic and uneven. "Now let me see your dick, Yoongi."

The other side of the wall kept swearing. Very colorful, very loud, very upsetti in the spaghetti.

Poor thing must not be getting laid regularly.

"Fuck, fine, you know I like staying in there at least for a little while..." he grumbled, holding the condom down as you untangled yourself from his body, sighing exaggeratedly as you turned around and yanked it off. You tossed it into the trashcan that was already beside the bed.

Yoongi had the foresight to be prepared for a night with you.

"I don't have to leave soon. We have plenty of time."

The shouting through the wall seemed to have given up, kicking it once and swearing very heatedly before stomping off.

"You better not. I'm not finished with you."

You picked up your phone and unlocked it, opening your photo gallery, pushing Yoongi down so you could wrap your fingers around his slick, semi-hard cock. It throbbed contentedly in your hand as you began to move it up and down in smooth, tight strokes, flexing your fingers to add variation in the stimulation.

"Mmm, fuck, yeah, faster..."

You pulled the photo up and put your phone on the bed beside his hip and calmly continued your movements, looking down at him, him and fair-skinned cheeks with a slight fluffiness to them, him and his lightly upturned upper lip that gave him a cat-like appearance, him and his lowered lashes over black-brown orbs that held quiet, sensual intelligence. His hair was messy from fucking you so hard, but he was effortlessly sexy regardless, leaning back on his elbows, torso lifted to watch your hand. Yoongi noticed you staring and raised an eyebrow, wispy black strands grazing his dark brow.

“What?”

You smiled.

“Just thinking you’re really hot, Yoongi.”

He cringed slightly, ears turning pink and shifted his eyes away, closing them. Your own roamed down, down his defined shoulders and toned arms and chest, sucking in a breath at the sight, that slim waist and pretty hips, his cock filling up your hand, getting harder and harder, the head getting darker from sensitivity, the slickness of the lube and his own cum making it easier for you and better for him. Your other hand traced his side, running your nails over it and you heard his low moan, raising your head and your eyes found his. He was observing you again, glancing from the photo to you, the corner of his lips tugging upwards, ticking his head to the screen.

“That it?”

You ran your nails over his skin, just the way he liked it, light, pressing in a little when it came to the upper side of his hip, seeing his pupils expand and his breathing shallow, pink tongue licking his lips slowly.

“Yeah,” you replied breathlessly.

You increased the pace, pumping him from base to head, entranced by Yoongi’s expression, desire and cockiness despite becoming unraveled in your hands, his lower body trembling under you, your thighs pressed to his tense ones, tempting you to sit on and rub yourself all over them.

“Pretty dick.”

Slap, slap, slap. Hand on wet cock, sending shivers through you and through him.

“That’s why it could be yours.”

You saw his cheeks flush light pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he made piercing eye contact.

“Stop.”

You gasped sharply and ceased all movement, feeling his rigid stiffness pulse against your palm.

“Look,” Yoongi commanded in that low, raspy voice of his.

You bit your lip and removed your hand, strings of fluids snapping between your fingers and his hot, taut skin. His cock was so hard that it was sticking straight up, dark and imposing, twitching slightly. Long pale fingers picked up your phone and held it next to his erection.

“Well?” he chuckled.

You chewed on your lip, squinting at the screen. Reached over and ran your wet fingers over his twitching length, hearing Yoongi hiss and gasp at your touch as you angled his dick to match up with the photo. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult – the position seemed to match up perfectly. He was a little taller and thicker though. The shape of the head was similar, but also a bit off. The skin tone wasn’t quite correct either, the red-purple with subtly differing undertones. Still, lighting might affect that kind of detail. It wasn’t like you knew where this picture was taken.

“Hm… It’s really close, but not an exact match.”

“Well, damn.”

Yoongi tossed your phone aside carelessly, hand reaching out and you bent down, already knowing what he wanted, lips to lips, sliding against his body. You loved the way he kissed. Intense but soft, hand on your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek, nail grazing your earlobe, whispering into your lips, put me between your thighs, and you shifting up, closing your thighs around his wet cock, his lustful sigh and smirk on your lips, slowly thrusting in between your legs.

“Tighter.”

You hooked your ankles, one over the another and squeezed.

“Mmm, fuck yes, you’re so good…”

His words reminded you of the first time, crammed into the backseat of a small car, snuck out of a party to have Min Yoongi pull you into his grasp, tongue and lips all over you, your arms over his shoulders, wondering what you were doing because this kind of guy wasn’t your type, quiet, yes, a music nerd, yes, however he knew what he was doing, light bites on you skin making you gasp and slide down his jean-covered thigh, delicious friction to your soaked panties, tipping your head back to give that decadent mouth more access to your throat.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket. A certain someone was probably wondering where you were.

“Yoongi, how… fuck, yes, how are you so good… you’re so good…”

His deep voice over your vocal cords, vibrating them with his seductive tone.

“DND your phone,” he purred, drawing a line down your throat with his tongue, coating you with his saliva, his musky, woody cologne transferring to your shivering skin.

“What…?” you panted, unable to think straight.

He plucked it out of your back pocket, tapping it against your arm.

“Put it on do not disturb and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll be coming back to me all the time.”

You fumbled with your phone, strong hands scooping out your breasts from your top, those lips sinking into your cleavage and tongue ghosting over your nipples, moaning as you dropped it, ignoring Park Jimin’s text, lost in those skillful hands and that expert mouth that eventually kissed down to your pussy and drove you crazy, but not before setting your skin on fire and making you beg for it.

“Yoongi…”

His lips on yours, his eyes and your eyes both half-open, marveling at the way his lashes adorned those black brown orbs and the way he looked at you, drunk on lust and your body.

“You want me?”

Hands on your hips, grinding you down on his thigh, teasing you. He wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type… so why, why did that sly, knowing gaze do things to you? Why did it make your heartbeat stutter and your juices seep into the denim of his jeans, so turned on that you didn’t want anything else right now but Min Yoongi?

It just didn’t make any sense.

“Y… Yeah…”

That smirk.

“I know you do.”

You did end up coming back all the time.

He was very good and it wasn’t just his mouth.

Yoongi backed up and smirked, open-mouthed, mischievous, so fucking hot that you felt your pussy throb at the mere sight, his warm, pulsing length still jammed between your soft, closed thighs.

“You wanna ride my dick?”

You grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You completely forgot about the photo and spent the rest of the night on Yoongi’s cock and ignoring the yelling from his neighbors.

jung hoseok.

“Hoseokie…”

Teeth on your ear, a dexterous, teasing tongue flicking your earrings, your name coming out of that heart-shaped smile in a low, sultry whisper that contrasted it.

“You can’t come here looking like this and not expect me to want to ruin you,” Jung Hoseok purred into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Your lips curved into a smile.

You were on your knees, spread out a little, short black minidress hiked up your thighs, facing the mirrors of the dance studio. Hoseok knelt behind you, hands travelling all over your body. Deft fingers, neatly manicured nails, his sharp jaw grazing your shoulder, pulling down the thin straps. Your large hoodie was tossed to the side, scattered onto the hardwood floor in haste. The frosted door of Smile Hoya’s rented dance studio space was locked, hip-hop music blaring loudly, and in the center was you and Hoseok.

You knew he could hear your shuddering exhale well, already attuned to the sounds of your pleasure.

He smirked and kissed the top of your ear, yanking down the top of your dress.

It wasn’t like this the first time.

“Ah, well, I was hoping… wondering, ah… I don’t know how to say…?”

You were in his bedroom at the time, confused. “Yoongi said you wanted to talk to me about something? What is it, Hoseok?”

He had been very nervous, somewhat shaky, staring into your eyes. You reached over and squeezed his hand, tilting your head. He took a moment to speak, hiding his brown eyes under his blond hair.

“Uh, well, I was talking to hyung and I mentioned I… I feel like I have to put up a front sometimes. Because I’m so happy and stuff. Women expect me to be like that… in bed… And he suggested that maybe you could help me… chill out, but, uh, that’s really rude to say, ah, I shouldn’t have–”

He tried to yank his hand out of yours in panic but you held on, tugged forward by his movement. Hoseok squeaked, ears turning red, freezing in place.

“Hey.”

You held his hand and patted it with your free one, smiling gently.

“I absolutely can help you chill out when it comes to sex. What do you want to know? What do you want to do? I’ll teach you.”

You noticed his expression change from panic to worry, chewing on his lip.

“N… No, you misunderstand… It’s not having sex, I…”

He trailed off, suddenly silent. You frowned slightly, nudging him. Hoseok cleared his throat and looked you dead in the eye.

“I’m not nice.”

Now he squeezed your hand tightly, breathing in your scent.

“Or rather, I don’t want to be nice when I fuck. Sometimes I want to let go and just…” He frowned, not seeming to know the word.

You leaned in, whispering in his ear.

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, I just… don’t want to think about an image I have to uphold.”

You grinned. “Yoongi did direct you to the right woman.”

His blond hair was even lighter now, the tips dyed with navy, a soft, sexy contrast to his rich tan skin. This was now many, many fucks later, hooking up at parties, at random times at his apartment, and now at the space he rented to practice dance on his own. Hoseok liked to freestyle and feel the music. When he fucked, he liked to feel the moment.

His hands gripped your breasts and squeezed, sandwiching your nipples between his index and middle finger, tugging hard.

You gasped in his hands, just what he wanted, open-mouthed smirk and all.

“Hoseok… I have to… ah, ask you something…”

He shoved his hips into your back and you gasped at the thinness of his shorts, rubbing his hardening cock against the top of your ass. A brown orb watched you through the mirror and he was smiling that brilliant, heart-shaped smile, contrasting his forceful touch.

“What do you want to ask?” he chirped cheerfully, pinching your nipples and twisting them.

You moaned, savoring the swift, firm pain followed by the pads of his fingers rubbing the tips of your nipples, grinding your ass onto his stiff length. Your phone was in your right hand. You bit your lip, seeing him watch you carefully in the mirror. You raised the phone and unlocked it.

“Is this your dick?”

You noticed Hoseok pause and squint. You turned your phone and held at up so he could get a good look. His hands were still on your tits, although he had paused the moment to view the image, blinking rapidly at it.

“When was this taken?” He tilted his head, looking confused.

“The party with the wet t-shirt contest? The–”

“One where Yoongi grabbed Taehyung and told him he was his favorite alien child?”

“Oh? You do remember?”

Hoseok winced, as if the events of the night haunted him. “I remember… not much after that…”

“Oh…” You faltered. “So you wouldn’t remember if you took this picture on my phone, huh?”

“No, sorry.”

“Then… can I see it?”

He grinned. “You have to earn it.”

Earning it could mean anything.

Today, earning it meant cumming at least three times with Hoseok’s fingers before he even let you take off his shorts.

“H-Hoseok…!”

He always smelled so good, so fucking good, orange and musk complemented with the barely-there vanilla sweetness, a scent that always seemed to linger on your skin afterward. His lips were on your neck, leaving small bites, chuckling darkly. One hand on your nipple, the other between your legs, your dress bunched at the waist and your panties at your knees, not letting you take any of it off, forcing you to watch yourself as he wrecked you, teasing your oversensitive clit with his fingertips, slick and slippery, thighs shaking from the second orgasm and coaxing you to the third, sharp throbs of lust causing your eyes to roll back, head falling against his shoulder.

“Hoseok, p-please…”

He had no trouble holding onto you, flexible and strong, and you were grinding your hips down, lost in the feeling, leaking everywhere because he hadn’t actually put his fingers inside you yet, teasing you and teasing you and teasing you, driving you crazy, please put your fingers inside me, please Hoseok, your name murmured gently in your ear, no, not until the third time, and then I’m going to put my cock in you once you’ve shown me how good of a girl you are, and you were going to lose your mind, shivering in continued ecstasy, squirming in his hands, your own reaching back and fisting his hair and white shirt, moans masked by the loud music, so close, so close, your perfume mixing with his, sex and cologne, shivers and heat, teeth on your ear and circles rubbed onto your aching nerves.

Shallow gasps.

Peaking pleasure.

Seeing nothing but black, eyelids fluttering, wanton moans torn from your throat.

The song ended.

Hoseok removed his hand from your nipple and covered your mouth, muffling your scream as you came, taking your air and your sanity, pleasure rocketing up your core, crying out with need for something, anything, inside you, pushing your hips back into his crotch, feeling his cock swell at your bouncing ass, desperate for him.

The music began again.

Now you were on your hands and knees, suddenly released, gasping for breath, legs shaking from the aftershocks.

“Look.”

Turning around, your shaking hands pulling down his shorts hurriedly, still wearing your black dress and panties around your knees, hardly registering the inconvenience, not caring, completely focused on the semi-hard length in front of your face. No time. Hoseok gave you no time, grabbing your face and dragging your open mouth to him, sliding into your lips, his oversized shirt touching your nose, you whimpering at the hotness and tautness of his velvet skin. The fullness invaded your throat, taking your breath away. He buried himself all the way in before yanking his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside with his vest that was shed earlier, far too hot now, looking down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t choke.”

Hand in your hair, pushing you down, not letting you move as he rolled his hips into your face, the head rubbing against the rood of your mouth and your tongue pushing it up to make it tighter for him, taking him deeper, hazy and intoxicated on orange, musk and vanilla. His other hand held your phone up, unlocking it with ease.

Smirk on those lips, heart-shaped and teasing. “So? Is it mine?”

You whined, not wanting him out of your mouth.

“Your choice,” Hoseok chuckled, tone light and unassuming, the edge of danger only visible in those sparkling brown eyes. “Find out or I’ll cum in your mouth and not in that pretty pussy of yours I’m looking at right now.”

Right, because you were bent over, ass facing the mirror, wetness dripping down your inner thighs.

Fuck.

You backed up, growling, glaring at the picture you knew all too well now.

“Well?”

Fine, fine, fine, you were on this fucking Journey to the Dick, and it was starting to feel more like an annoying side mission than the actual main storyline, but, whatever, you reached up and angled Hoseok’s cock slightly, sucking in a breath with him as you looked from phone screen to the delicious real-life specimen. Hm, okay. Similar in length and color. Not in angle though. Shit. And not in width either, barely a hair slimmer and the vein placement was more prominent on Hoseok’s length than this dick.

“Fuck, it’s really fucking close but I don’t think it’s yours.”

“Shit,” Hoseok sighed, turning your phone off and tossing it onto his discarded shirt. “Oh well.”

You narrowed your eyes, pouting. “What kind of react–gah!”

Hoseok pushed you down onto the ground, pushing his shorts down to his knees and pulling out a condom from the pocket, cocking a brow. You sputtered, trying to untangle yourself from the labyrinth of your own clothes, but only managed to kick off your panties before he got the condom rolled down and pushed your legs up, lifting your ass completely off the floor.

“Can’t have this pretty ass on this dirty floor,” he snickered, lifting himself higher, bending you in half, almost on your upper back, nearly uncomfortable, but Hoseok was stronger than he looked, and when he gave you what you needed, you instantly forgot about the discomfort.

“Oooh, fuck, Hoseok!”

He plunged into you, into hot wet tightness, stretching you out easily from the previous wetness, clit throbbing as he smacked his hips down, his balls slapping against your ass, drawing out another moan as his fingers brushed your clit, making you spasm and clench around his cock as he teased the overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, yes, so tight, so wet, so desperate for a cock to fill this hole, aren’t you?” he purred, still so sweet but with such dirty words, so handsome with his blond hair and navy tips, heart-shaped smirk and glittering eyes, and the way he said your name, dainty and serene, slowly thrusting into you, but so hard, he was so hard from being inside you, completely consumed by the physicality of the act and no longer the same man who had been worrying about how you would perceive him.

That seemed ages ago now.

Your hands reached up between your legs, running your fingers through his hair, completely forgetting about the photo of the mysterious dick and focused on the one thrusting between your legs, smiling up at him, those brown eyes and lovely jaw.

“You’re so good, Hoseok, so fucking good to me, fuck, harder, yes, ah…”

Both of you forgot about the music, fucking through the pause between them, hoping that everyone else was too busy with their own choreography to think about the hot gasps and moans exchanged between you and him in the middle of the room, the act reflected in the wall of mirrors, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing off the walls, your name and his name in breathless whispers, tight and full and hot and wet and soaring on sky-high pleasure, climbing altitude and running out of oxygen.

“Fuck, gonna cum, fuck–”

“Ah, Hoseok, yes…”

Tip, free-fall, you clamping a hand over Hoseok’s mouth and his hand over yours, screaming into each other’s palms at the intensity and the force of orgasm, smacking your hips together and holding them there, feeling his cock twitch inside you and your shivering walls clamp around him in rough, intense pulses.

It took a moment to disembark from the euphoric high.

“Hah… we should… probably not fuck here…” he gasped, falling a little, cradling your ass so it didn’t directly touch the floor.

“I’d fuck you anywhere, so that’s your fault. You need to be the voice of reason.”

He laughed, rich and infectious, and you grinned, holding his head against your breasts and hugging him tightly.

park jimin.

“I hate you.”

“Come on, Jimin.”

"I was supposed to be first!"

"Oh my God, are we going on about this again?!"

"You were supposed to suck MY dick first!"

"Stop being a fucking brat, Park Jimin!"

"No!"

You tackled him and you both fell to the floor, rolling into a mess of giant t-shirts, fierce kisses and your hands in his now red hair, fiery and hot-headed like he was being right now.

"You little–"

"Don't you dare call me little!"

"I was gonna call you a little shithead but if you wanna be a big shithead, that's fine with me!"

He pinned you down and you grabbed his waist with your legs and rammed your crotch into his black shorts, making him gasp in horny pain and crumple into his laundry that you were supposed to help him fold, but instead you were wrestling and he was complaining about not getting his dick sucked.

It was your turn to pin him down with your arms and your thighs, Jimin seeing stars as he struggled to breathe from your lower belly smacking his erection the wrong way.

"Why, ack, why did you run off saying there's a proper order?" he choked out, choking harder as your panty-covered mound sat down on his length and started rubbing up and down, smirking down at him, his red hair flaring out on his cream rug.

"'Cause there is," you replied, calm and cool.

"Order of what? Order of how you fucked us?"

"Nah, I fucked Yoongi first, remember? At that party, ages ago..." you hummed, extending the expanse of your movement, sliding up and down his thighs, his plush lips open and moaning softly, his grip on your large t-shirt tightening. It was actually his, because neither you nor Jimin knew the meaning of keeping your clothes on.

"Yeah, in my car!"

"Eh, you were drunk and playing pool with Taehyung, which, by the way, he mad cheated and you didn't even notice."

"Fuck!"

You weren't sure if that exclamation was related to your teasing or Taehyung cheating, but Jimin removed one of his hands from your shirt and flipped off the wall, in the direction of Taehyung's room.

Ah, so not you.

"Is it age order? But Namjoon isn't the oldest..." Jimin refuted himself, frowning.

"He’s first because he's kind of like the leader of you guys, isn't he? You all end up listening to his reasoning anyway."

Jimin squinted, pouting. "That's just because his tall and smart and has a fatty IQ."

You grinned. "148."

Jimin looked very annoyed that you remembered the exact number.

“I never thought about it, but other than that, it is age order, huh?” you mused, bouncing on his dick.

He shuddered with satisfaction, rolling his hips into you. “Then why would you…?”

You shrugged. “Your names sound good together like that. Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook…”

Jimin added your name last with an amused smirk. You bit your lower lip, cocking an eyebrow and sporting a devious smile, leaning down. Lips to lips, a soft sigh, remembering that night, stumbling out of Jimin’s car and tangled in Yoongi’s touch, still kissing Yoongi with your ass on the hood of the car. Jimin had been annoyed at you then too, how could you fuck him first and not me, Yoongi laughing in that raspy, sexy way of his, because I asked, dumbass, Jimin grabbing your face and kissing you right in front of Yoongi, the older man clicking his tongue and squeezing your ass tighter, unimpressed.

In some ways, that night started off the chain reaction of hey, why not me?

Okay, maybe you did have some frustrations about your dating life and ended up tumbling into their beds for, ahem, emotional support, but in your defense, they were all great when it came to emotional support.

“Sit on my face.”

“That’s not the angle of the dick pic though.”

“Then just take the pic from that position. That’s how it was taken, right?”

Sometimes, Park Jimin was a damn genius.

He was great at eating pussy too.

“Ah, fuuuck, Jimin…”

A little messy at first, humming approvingly at your taste, thrusting his tongue into you and moaning as your muscles closed in on it, your slick nectar painting those beautiful, soft lips, him pressing them to your heat, lewd kisses, tongue swiping up and down.

“Gotta clean you up so you can dirty me up,” he breathed, tracing sensual patterns in between your thighs with his tongue, small nips to make you whine, his hands on your ass, moaning into your pussy as your kiss came into contact with his rigid cock, dripping saliva and licking it back up, gyrating your tongue at the tip and licking off the pre-cum, savoring the taste, strong and almost sweet.

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was frustrated with you.

“Fuck, give it to me.”

His hands on your ass, pushing you down, setting your pussy flush onto his lips, blocking off his airway and moaning hotly, desperate, needy, wanting your noises as you swallowed him, his length swelling in your mouth at the wet encasement, swirling your tongue all around.

You’re so mean. I can’t believe you wouldn’t ask me first, get on your knees, come on, aren’t you sorry?

You weren’t, not even in the slightest bit sorry for fucking Yoongi in his car, but you had enjoyed his little pout and twinge of jealousy, kisses up his muscular thighs, the same thighs you were clutching right now, one hand tucking your hair behind your ear, remembering his hand on the back of your head, pushing you down on his cock, the same cock you buried all the way into the back of your throat, blocking your own ability to breathe, suffocating on it as Jimin groaned, coming back up for air, rushing exhale washing over your skin before returning to his work on your clit, rapid, intense licks that shimmered pleasure through your veins.

Jimin made you choke on his dick after the Yoongi incident, but you were the one in control of it now, rutting the head against your throat muscles, feeling it get harder and harder. He always felt so good in your mouth, recalling him saying once, I just really like getting my dick sucked, shut up and stop shaming me, tongue and lips and saliva, remembering how much he liked it when you held the base and focused on the tip, his muffled whines getting more intense and vibrating your core, making sure to pop your lips over the bottom of the head every time you came up and then pressing them tightly as you went back down, doing it all at that fast, suffocating pace that made him stop licking you to throw his head back and moan, loud lust radiating off the walls, not caring about disturbing anyone, too absorbed into your pace to be considerate.

“F-Fuck, yeah, just like that, fuck, you’re so good…”

Jimin was part of the reason you were good.

He really liked getting his dick sucked. Your mouth was one of his favorites and usually readily available.

Win-win.

“Faster, fuck, oh, shit, I’m gonna cum, mmmphf!”

He grabbed your ass and smothering himself with your pussy, body trembling under you as his cock jerked and shot into your throat, your lips closing in, sucking hard to drink his cum, his moans filling your wet hole and tongue all over your clit, furiously licking as you rubbed the twitching head into the roof of your mouth, his hips squirming at the overstimulation, but his violent grip and nails digging into your ass was telling you to do it, telling you he loved it, telling you he needed it, begging you to do what you did best, gulping around the head and then jamming it into your throat, cutting off your air.

He sucked on your clit, hard, whining so loud that you could feel it in his chest and racing heartbeat pressed against your lower belly, almost lifting your lower half with his upper body alone, showing off his strength from dancing. You angled your head, taking as much as you could, nose in his balls, whimpering around his cock and the snap of orgasm making your entire body flinch, leaking all over his face and into his mouth, his nose buried into your pussy, tongue soothing your throbbing clit, wave after intense wave, barely breathing, lightheaded with pleasure, clutching his thighs tightly, naked bodies suddenly dirty, surrounded by clean laundry.

Jimin yanked his head out from between your legs, panting in satisfaction, diving back in to shove his tongue on your quivering hole and scoop out your orgasm, sucking it out to drink it, murmuring your name into your slick juices.

“You taste so fucking good, fuck…”

You came up for air, gasping, tongue lolling out, holding his cock and rubbing the slit against your wet muscle. His stiff length twitched, still hard because of your mouth.

“Take the picture, mmm, yes, did you forget?” Jimin gasped into your pussy.

You fumbled with your phone beside his leg, still reeling from orgasm and Jimin’s continued ministrations, putting it in selfie mode and seeing the lower half of your face, chin shiny with saliva, his cum dripping off your lower lip, his cock in front of your face and naked chest, your breasts pressed into his abs.

You thought about licking off the visible cum, but then you decided against it, snapping the photo with your tongue hovering close to his rock-hard erection.

You knew the composition of the inspirational dick pic now, so you brought it up in a photo editing app, putting the two side by side while wrapping your lips around the head of Jimin’s cock, sucking it leisurely like a lollipop. He didn’t ask you to get off.

Instead, he planted your pussy into his face and suffocated himself with it again.

You studied the two photos. Hm. Firstly, yours was much sexier. No offense to white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boxer briefs guy, but your glistening cum-covered lips and squashed tits in the background of the cock made the photo eons better than his. Jimin would definitely be asking for yours later. Anyway, back to the picture. Hmm. Jimin’s dick was slightly shorter and straighter, with a warmer skin tone to his purple-red tip, although the head shape was spot on. Was that possible to have a different length but almost identical head shapes? Did dicks work that way? Did Jimin have an equally sexy twin brother or doppelganger somewhere?

Hm, a threesome with basically two Jimins would be hot as hell.

He patted your leg and you climbed off him, sighing as you rolled over and pursed your lips, concluding that his wasn’t the mystery dick. Once again, close, but no dick. Wait. That wasn’t the saying. Eh, whatever.

“Fuck, send me that photo later, I’m gonna jack off to it.”

You laughed, feeling him crawl beside you and roll you onto your stomach, pinning you down with his naked body. “You wanna jack it to your own dick?”

He was rubbing said dick into the crevice of your ass cheeks now, using your saliva was lube. “Fuck yeah I wanna jack it to my own dick with your lips covered with my cum and your titties on my stomach, sounds fuckin’ hot.”

“You’re such a pervert, Jimin.”

“And you aren’t?”

The front door slammed shut. There was a loud yell of your name in deep baritone.

“Aw, hell no, I’m getting it in this pussy first, I got time before he comes to collect,” Jimin growled, reaching into his discarded shorts and ripping open a condom, scrambling off you and rolling it down his still-hard length, grabbing one of your legs.

You shifted to your side, glaring at him. “What am I, taxes?”

The deep voice called your name again, asking where you were.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer though, because Jimin thrust into you and you ended up moaning Kim Taeyang’s name to inform him of your whereabouts, causing Jimin to bend over and fuck you hard and rough.

“I can’t believe you would moan his name like that with my dick inside you,” Jimin growled, looking far too cute to actually be pissed at you. “Gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be sore for him.”

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was firmly fucking you into his floor and making you yelp as Taehyung burst the door open, sighing at the scene.

“Who would have fucking guessed what you two are doing…”

kim taehyung.

"You're so fucking stubborn."

"Wow, that's really rude, I don't make comments about your–"

"Shut up, I'm deleting his number."

You narrowed your eyes and frowned, sitting with one leg bent on Kim Taehyung's bed. He was currently in possession of your phone, clicking his tongue and pressing buttons on the screen.

"When someone tells you to leave them alone, you leave them alone," he scolded.

You cowered slightly, eyes shifting. "I was only asking if he was doing anything this weekend... I didn't have any ulterior motives..."

Taehyung squinted. You deliberately avoided his gaze. He sighed, crossing his arms. You were still wearing Jimin's shirt with nothing underneath so, uh, maybe he had good reason to be suspicious.

"You have a virgin kink."

You choked on nothing. "What, no, I don't–"

Taehyung reached over to his desk and put on the thin, gold-framed glasses he kept there. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. You abruptly stopped talking and gawked at him, breathless at the way his dark brown orbs were bordered by gold and his long, black-brown hair, the rest tied back in a small ponytail.

"And a glasses kink."

He took them off and you sucked in a tight breath, grimacing.

"That's why you keep going after these kinds of guys," Taehyung tutted, neatly folding the specs and placing them back on his desk. "And why you bonked Namjoon-hyung so fast, only to realize that he is not, in fact, a virgin."

"W-Well, he's still good..."

"Same reason why you got so excited when–"

"Look," you cut in, chopping the air with your hand, not letting Taehyung finish. His eyebrow seemed permanently raised. "I'm off my bullshit for now, no? I've got a mission–" You pointed to your phone and he held it out of your reach. You scowled and bounced back down into the bed. His eyes weren't following your face, but you ignored it. "–and I'll stop okay?"

Taehyung cocked his other eyebrow.

"Serious. You just deleted all the numbers except you and your friends, right?"

He turned the screen, thumb hovering over a certain number. Him and his friends were listed from one to seven, in order.

His thumb was over number seven.

"Don't," you whined. "Please, Tae."

His brows lowered, serious expression on his handsome face.

Then he smirked, dumping your phone on the bed.

"Silly girl," he drawled, crawling onto the bed, advancing towards you, sultry gaze and enchanting eyes making you forget about your device. "Why would I do that? He likes you so much."

You growled slightly, letting him push you down but not relenting. "That's really fucked up."

"That I wanna hear you say please?"

His hand lifted and cupped your chin, mischievous smile, unable to contain his pride for his little trick, sliding his leg between your thighs, tilting his head.

"Not just any please," he murmured, deep voice silky smooth, dark curled stands brushing against your cheeks he leaned in, hot exhale on your lips. "Your needy please when I threaten to take your precious Jungkookie from you."

You tried to close your legs but he stopped you with his knee, tilting his head, highly amused at your narrowed eyes.

"You don't like it?" He was leaning down, feathery kisses on your lips and cheeks. "I know you like it when I tease you." His honey voice was dripping into the fire, turning into fuel that fed the sparks of arousal, your hands coming up to clutch his black shirt, pulling down the center zipper, his deep chuckle in your skin, hand from your chin sliding up to your hair, the other tapping down your front, grazing the thin t-shirt material.

"Don't..." you gasped, his deft touch toying with the hem. “Don't use the others against me. That's not fair...”

“Mmm, yeah?”

Drawing circles on your inner thigh with his nail, nicking the skin.

"You only want to think about me?"

Your phone hummed with a notification. Taehyung chuckled, fingers creeping closer and closer.

"Aw, I wonder who that is? But that's too bad, because you're all mine right now."

You gasped, clutching his open shirt as his fingers slid in, two because you were already wet, shallow breathing and lidded eyes telling him enough, taking your lips with his, pace slow and steady and maddening, spreading your legs with his knees, forcing you to tip your hips up to him in an embarrassing position.

Then again, embarrassment during sex wasn't part of your vocabulary.

You pushed his black shirt down one shoulder and reached in, your fingers snaking to the hem of the white undershirt and stroking his skin, his satisfied exhale hot against your neck, you remembering the way the water drenched the fabric and stuck it to his golden tan skin, playfully flexing his defined chest and biceps, adorable and arousing because Kim Taehyung was both. He separated his digits inside your pussy to create a loud, sharp, wet squelch. You heard him grin, smug at the dirty sound, then begin plunging his fingers in and out, in and out of the tightness, trying to be as noisy as possible. You clenched your core to make him work for it, force him to be rougher with you, his fingers curling in your hair, yanking firmly, lips on your ear.

"See, how can those boys you pick keep up with you, hm? They won't know what to do with your pretty, sexy self," he purred, faster, harder, pushing you to the edge with your heated moan and your hands all over his chest, lifting your hips to meet his touch. "You need us to take care of you, don't you?"

Fuck, the way Taehyung said your name.

Like it was a decadent sweet he was craving, a taste compared to no other.

Your head fell back into the pillows, breathing in his warm scent in shallow puffs, his name pouring out of your lips, yearning and desire.

"Mmmm, Taehyung...."

Melting you into it, sweet bliss and sharp jerks of your hips into his hand, gasping at the flood of euphoria, trying to squeeze your thighs around his hand and stopped by his open legs. Your throbbing pussy gripped his fingers and made him hiss, his devious smirk growing as you lowered your chin again to look into those dark eyes, shivering under his intense gaze.

“Let’s play a little game.”

His tongue slid out, lickings your lips lightly.

“It’s called, how many fingers can I stuff in you before you’re begging for my dick?”

“What kind of – oh, f-fuck!”

One more.

Aching tightness, clenching your jaw, trembling at the ease of it, Taehyung cocking an eyebrow.

“Ah, yeah, three’s too easy, huh? You already warmed up.”

One more.

“Fuck, Tae, fuck!”

His dark eyes glittering, pleased at your reaction.

“That’s better. That’s what I wanna hear.”

Whines in your throat as he picked up the pace, fast and hard, clutching his shirt and his side, your nails digging in, stretched out and stuffed with four, your eyes rolling back and one leg sliding up to hook around his waist, meeting each thrust, so deep, so full, so wet, loud and obvious and uncaring of who was listening – probably Jimin with a huge smirk on his face – panting Taehyung’s name over and over, feeling the strength in his hold and his grip in your hair, pulling lightly, shooting pricks of pain down your head to meet the oppressive pleasure brimming in your core, closer, closer.

“What do you want?” Taehyung growled, that deep voice dangerously low.

“Y-Your c-cock, p-please…” you managed to gasp out, chasing it, chasing the fullness and the depth.

“Can you take it? Can you take it like the good girl you are?”

“A-Ah, yes, please Tae, want it,” you moaned, your fingernails digging into his back, scratching down as your orgasm shattered through you, making your whole body shake and shiver from the intensity, him pulling out. Your moan turned into a hoarse whimper, squirming as he rubbed your clit with his slick fingers, spanking it and teasing it, rocketing you into peaks and valleys of cut-off ecstasy that drove you insane, clawing at his clothes, desperate for his body on yours.

“What’s your magic word?”

“Please.”

He grinned at you despaired tone.

“That’s it.”

It took no time at all, your shirt flung aside, Taehyung losing his clothes that were already half-off, hot body to hot body, heated kisses and rummaging in his nightstand drawer, groaning into his mouth as his cock slapped your thigh, hard and thick and ready, dripping pre-cum on you before he yanked you up on top of him, ripping open the condom.

“Work for it.”

Lacing your fingers in his, sliding down onto that impressive girth and gasping as it twitched inside you, rolling your hips down onto it, better than his fingers, bouncing on it with your tits following your rhythm, squeezing his hands. Taehyung liked this kind of intimacy, the kind where he was grinning like the devil under you but still holding your hands as you railed yourself with his dick, rough and hard with your own smug smile, a little erratic but somehow good that way.

He made you work for it and you were good at working for it.

You found a good rhythm and – ba dum tss – rode it, leaning forward to deepen the angle and make it last longer, pulsing around his length with your tight walls, control and power and endorphins, each smack adding to the lewd melody that mixed with heavy moans and shuddering gasps, bringing Taehyung on your rollercoaster, his hips rising, your name rumbling in his chest, blood thudding in your ears at the baritone depth.

“Yes, such a good girl, gonna make me cum, don’t you want me to cum for you?” he panted, fishing for the magic word, bouncing one of his dark brows, his long hair flared out on his pillows, high cheekbones and strong features no longer hidden by wayward strands.

Your tongue between your teeth, grinning wide.

“Yes, please.”

The right inflection of winded want, maybe a little mischievous, but Taehyung liked that, for there was no fun in someone who was too easy.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

He squeezed your hands and thrust his hips up fiercely, shock bolting from your core to your spine to your head, your head snapping back, gasp torn from your throat, flooding his crotch with your juices, overstimulated clit rubbing on the base of his cock and Taehyung was gone too, husky groan falling from his lips, slamming his hips up and locking his legs, shooting jerks of cum into the condom, aftershocks causing you to lose hold on your knees, moan pitching higher as you slipped down on his throbbing length, trapped on it because Taehyung wasn’t going to lower you until he was done, the head pulsing inside you, squeezed out by your shivering walls.

“T… Tae… the picture…”

“Ah… yeah… hold on… lay down for me…”

He wasn’t going to let you leave without his mark anyway.

“Serious?”

“Deadly.”

You laid back against the pillows, spent, holding your phone, Taehyung straddling your chest and stroking his slick cock, plops of cum and lube falling onto your chest, messy dark hair curling around his handsome face. You could see the purple-red head peek out from between his fingers, hear the steady slapping as he pumped it back to full hardness.

“Alright, let’s see.”

Your chest was rattling but you raised your phone, bringing up the picture as Taehyung gripped the base of his cock, lifting it up slightly to put it in position. You squinted at the screen, looking from the photo dick to the real one. Of course. He was definitely bigger, a little thicker, but strangely, the color was almost the same. Was that lightning or similar skin tone? Or perhaps men with really nice dicks just happened to have Taehyung’s tan complexion?

You wouldn’t question it if it was true.

“You’re bigger,” you sighed, tossing your phone aside.

Taehyung smirked proudly. “What a surprise.”

“We all knew that, even before I saw it.”

He chuckled, going back to fisting his cock. “That’s because Jimin has a big mouth and likes to spread rumors.”

“You like that he spends rumors.”

Taehyung shrugged, but his sly expression wouldn’t be hidden even as he shook his head to cover part of his face with his long brown hair, curtaining half of it with darkness, teasing and effortlessly sexy.

“Ready?”

“Mhm, do it.”

You raised yourself onto your elbows, smiling wide, watching his breathing shallow and his eyes close, losing himself in it, faster and tighter, the wetness audible, strong thighs shuddering at your sides. Then he sucked in a breath, hissing your name and tipping forward, painting viscous white strings onto your collarbones and tits, pushing his shuddering cock up and down to spread it out, your clavicle now sticky and covered in his strong scent.

Taehyung ticked his head, lips in a devil’s smile, chest heaving with exertion.

“Your cum necklace is extra pretty today. Take a selfie for me so I can jack off to your cute face later.”

jeon jungkook.

“Jungkook?”

Jeon Jungkook shrieked your name like you were Michael Myers and he was Jamie Lee Curtis, flinging himself onto his computer monitor and mashing the power button to turn it off, his long purple hair flying everywhere, brown orbs like saucers, entire body shaking so bad that even his eyebrow piercing was vibrating.

He froze like that.

You blinked at him from the doorframe of his rented studio room, one hand on the knob and the other holding up your phone like a kitchen knife.

His leather bomber jacket was hung over the back of his rolling chair. The chair was currently slowly sliding across the floor, away from him and his panic. Jungkook was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and loose black jeans.

For a guy scared shitless, his pants were pitching a very impressive tent.

Had he been watching porn?

“Er… I knocked…?” you said slowly, pointing to the door. “Do you not hear me?”

“Um, uh, n-no,” Jungkook sputtered, looking you up and down. “No, I d-didn’t.”

“I said I was coming by today. Via text?”

“Was that today?” he echoed hollowly like a ghost in a shell, the end of his question pitching to a higher octave. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Ah. Sorry. I think I f… forgot…” He was not looking at your face, instead staring at your thighs and your shorts, tight and tiny, shredded black denim paired with a loose, long-sleeved black top that read in bold, white, graphic, letters...

REALITY SUCKS.

You pointed to the turned-off monitor.

"Were you watching porn?" you asked cheerfully.

Jungkook's ears turned red.

"Yes," he blurted.

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

You nodded, closing the door. You tilted your head and locked it, just in case, before waltzing into Jungkook's film studio space, bouncing on the heels of your large black sneakers. "If you're gonna watch porn, you should lock the door. What were you watching? Is it lesbian porn again? Can I–?"

You reached over to turn the screen back on and Jungkook's tattooed hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you away from it and to him. You blinked rapidly, confused at his tight grip.

"N-No, you can't see. You can't," he sputtered, pinning you against his hard body.

You frowned, annoyed. "Why not? I like porn." You squirmed against him, but he sandwiched you between his forearms, forcing you to look up and face him, thinning your mouth into a line. He gulped, eyes shifting, holding your body against his. His lower lip trembled, mole underneath bouncing with his uncertainty.

"I... It wasn't porn..."

You stopped struggling, confused. "Huh?"

Those dark chocolate eyes found yours, looking guilty.

"I was looking at your pictures."

You blinked rapidly. "What?"

"You know... the ones I take of you sometimes... You said it was okay..."

Ah, yes. Jungkook liked to take pictures of you. He had mumbled that it was because he needed practice and, later in bed, he admitted it was because he considered you his muse, an inspiration of sorts, so would it be okay if, maybe, you just turned a little and laid in his covers just like... like that, yeah, could he take maybe one photo?

"Sure, knock yourself out, dude."

A bit later, far too late, you had realized that had been maybe too chill of a response, but Jungkook seemed to prefer that and he acted less awkward about it every other time he asked to take a picture. They weren't usually dirty pictures. Although you were naked in some of them, they weren't quite inappropriate, every single one framed with delicate, well-thought-out composition. You always sighed and told him he made you look better than you actually were.

Jungkook always insisted you were consistently beautiful.

You pointed between your bodies.

"Were you gonna get off to them or something?" you cheerily inquired, bumping against his pitched denim tent.

"N-No!"

His ears turned scarlet and he jerked sideways, but you held onto him, hands firmly on his hips, not letting him twist away. He quickly covered his ears and pouted at you.

"I was... I just missed you."

You smiled, squeezing his ass. "I missed you too, Jungkook."

Your tone was soft, gentle. He stilled and lowered his hands, lips parting at your words, slightly surprised, incredibly adorable.

His dick twitched in his pants and jabbed your crotch.

A pause.

Jungkook's eyes shifted to the side, mumbling under his breath. "And, yeah, okay, I got horny, but that's only because it's you..."

"That's great, since I definitely wanted to look at your dick as soon as possible!"

His eyes went wide.

You smiled widely.

Then he said something unexpected.

"Ow."

You looked down and backed up as Jungkook frowned and reached down to shift his rock-hard length in his pants, sighing in relief.

"Zipper was killing me..." he grumbled, running a hand through his purple hair.

"We should just take it off then."

"Pardon, we should wha–ah!"

You grabbed fistfuls of his black top and yanked it up and over his head, causing Jungkook to sputter in confusion, throwing his hands up as you unsheathed his muscular torso, leaning in, breathing on his skin, leaving him to untangle himself as your lips closed onto his dark nipple, tongue teasing the small nub.

"Ah, fuck!"

You lifted your lips, tongue still extended, looking up to see him flinging the shirt aside, his long purple hair messy and wild, tattooed arm and un-inked arm lifting, pushing his hair away from his face, his chest rising to your wet muscle, gasping. You had a clear view of that cute little mole under his lower lip, trembling with pleasure before Jungkook looked down at you, hazy chocolate orbs fanned by black lashes, breathing hard.

You ticked an eyebrow, licking slow circles, lips closing in again, sucking daintily.

He bit his lip and let it slowly tease out while you simultaneously teased him, your name leaving his lips in a low moan. You danced your fingertips up his thigh, nail tracing the seams of his jeans, kissing across his chest, his eyes following you, hips rocking into your touch, following your pace, letting you command it. His head tipped back as you kissed down his abs, whimpering with want, curling his fingers into fists.

Jungkook always made you feel like you were touching him for the first time.

"You're not a virgin?"

"No?" Jungkook had repeated after the first time you had fucked him, sounding confused. "I'm just like this? Is that bad?"

"W... well... no, and now that I think about it, you were suspiciously good..."

"You didn't like it?"

You had turned to look at him and, fuck, the way he looked at you, so cute and innocent, uh oh, and then the slightest hint of an open-mouthed smirk dancing on those shapely pink lips, reminding you of someone else.

"Namjoon-hyung said that's what you were into. Is he wrong?"

Voice so deep and so smooth, gliding over you like butter.

You almost hastily defended yourself but one look into those roguish, yet genuine, chocolate eyes and you couldn't lie.

"But... you should enjoy yourself too..."

Jungkook had grinned, endearing and heart-thuddingly handsome. "I do. I told you, this is how I am. You're just my type."

"And what's that?'"

He had pinned you back onto the bed, leaning in.

"Hot and horny."

Turns out.

Seemed to be a running theme with all eight of you.

Right now, his pants were falling and you were sliding up as your hand was sliding down, shushing him quietly, your other hand dancing up his neck and pulling his head down.

"Someone's gonna hear you," you whispered to his open lips, tone and touch implying you didn't give a shit who was listening, wrapping your fingers around his stiff cock the second he pushed his black boxer briefs down, his shivering moan tickling your cheek. His right hand came up to cradle your head and lean it against his, begging whines for you to move, pairing it with an irresistible, husky hiss of your name.

"Please..."

He liked it tight and he liked it rough, liked the way you could lock your fingers and keep that nearly suffocating pace, closing his eyes with a flutter and moaning into your skin, curtaining you with purple, his grip in your hair tightening as you built that speed, filling the rented studio with his silvery, erotic cries.

"Someone out there is going to think you're watching porn," you teased, nudging him with your nose, looping a finger back to smear the pre-cum over the swollen head. He bucked his hips into your hold, lips pressed to your cheek, intoxicated groan warming your skin.

"Kiss me and breathe into my mouth..."

You couldn't say no, not with his voice so soft and pleading like that, not with that edge of nervousness. Fuck, the way Jungkook succumbed to your kiss, uncontrollable tremors taking over his shoulders, hot taut skin twitching in your palm indicating he was close, and you almost broke away to say that he shouldn't cum like this, it'll be messy and get on the floor, but he grabbed your face and didn't let you go, whimpering in his throat, wordlessly telling you to do it, exhale into his throat and he groaned in his chest, long, drawn-out, consumed by lust, and maybe it was bad, but you loved it, loved the way he wanted it so bad, wanted you to push the air out of his lungs and suffocate his pulsating cock with your grip, pre-cum leaking between your fingers, finally pulling back and gasping, his lashes fluttering helplessly.

"G-Gonna cum, f-fuck!"

You had to think fast, looking down for a moment and feeling his cock jerk in your hand, swiftly switching to cupping the dark red head, thick white cum suddenly spurting your palm, Jungkook burying his face into your hair to muffle his wail, your scalp hot with his released exhale and your hand covered in his heated release.

You breathed in, smirking at the scent of dirty gratification.

"Jungkook..."

He whined softly, hips quivering as you covered his jerking length with your cum-covered hand, spreading it all over and getting him hard again.

"There's this picture..."

"Mmm, yeah, the h-hyungs told me... don't stop..."

You swung your hips from side to side, free hand running down his chest, your eyes roaming his toned body, his tattooed arm still hovering over your head, long fingers tangled in your hair still, squatting down and opening your mouth, tongue dancing out and licking your hand and the side of his purple-red length, wet sloppy kisses, slurping up his cum and moaning on the throbbing head, making sure that he could feel the sinful heat.

"Give me... oooh, fuck, give me your phone..."

Your hand left his abs reluctantly, tugging your phone out of your ass pocket and holding it up for him as your mouth closed around his cock, swallowing it all, eyes closing, cramming all of him until the head hit your inner throat and your lips pressed against his crotch, knees on the tile floor, thighs spread, hands poised in the air, unable to breathe.

Click.

You cracked open one eye to see Jungkook holding your phone above your head, teasing smirk on his shapely lips, mole winking at you.

“For me?” he asked, not quite innocent.

It was the first time Jungkook had taken an actual dirty picture.

You shrugged as if to say, sure, pulling back as he turned the phone around, the dick in question on the screen. You eased off his length, licking it clean, bringing up your wet hand covered in his cum, popping your lips off the engorged tip and sliding your fingers in your wet lips, tongue wriggling between your fingers, inspecting the two dicks. Jungkook was still hard – so hard that his cock was sticking straight out, almost mimicking the photo. You had to crouch a little more, tilting your head and placing your fingertips on his balls, raising his dick a little on the back of your hand, smearing saliva and pre-cum on your skin.

Yon continued to lick, grazing the underside of his length with your tongue and then pulling back, eyes going from the photo to the real thing.

Jungkook moaned above you, clutching your phone tightly, knuckles white under black tattoos.

Hm.

You tilted your head.

One way.

Then the other.

Hmmm?

Hmmmmmmm.

“W… What?” Jungkook stuttered above you.

You pursed your lips at the tip of his cock, swiping your tongue over it and sucking off the pre-cum. He gasped, hips shaking, threatening to shove it into your lips.

“It doesn’t look like your dick at all.”

“What?” He sounded startled.

You pointed with your dry hand. “The shape is a little off, you’re longer and slightly bigger, and the color is different.” You sighed, whooshing hot air over his soaked, taut skin, Jungkook whimpering. You squinted slightly.

“Still…”

You tapped your lips with his cock, thinking.

“I think he wears the same underwear brand as you.”

“He does?” Jungkook squeaked, spinning the phone around and blinking at it.

You shrugged. “And for some reason, the position of his hips reminds me of you. I don’t know why…”

He chewed his lower lip, staring at the phone.

“Oh well.”

You stood up abruptly at your words and plucked the phone out of his hand, putting it on his desk.

“If it’s not you, it’s not you. Let’s fuck.”

Jungkook yelped as you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and began stripping off your clothes.

That was his reaction that one time you lost strip poker to Kim Seokjin and him at that one party, not that your cared because you didn’t bother learning the rules. You had other priorities and they involved getting mostly naked and then pinning Seokjin down to make out with him as Jungkook gawked at the other side of the table, half-clothed, clutching his cards.

“I can… go…?” he had sputtered.

You surfaced from Seokjin’s plush lips, his hands around your bare waist, the taller man gasping for air, reeling from your kiss.

“I still have one more piece of clothing to go, Jungkook.”

Side of your lower lip between your teeth, cocking an eyebrow, swaying your panty-covered ass at those huge brown eyes.

“You can help, you know.”

Fun night.

His eyes were huge now too, your back against the wall and him rolling the condom down, lifting your leg and sliding into you, gasping at your tightness, leaning down to kiss you again, greedy and ravenous, his hips jerking upwards, forcing you on tiptoe. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails digging into that soft skin and strong muscle.

“F-Fuck me, Jungkook, mmm, fuck, yes…”

You didn’t really get to talk during that strip poker night because your mouth was full of Seokjin’s dick as Jungkook’s pounded you from behind, but it would be a crime to complain about such things.

You met your hips to his to deepen his thrust, enjoying his strength, powerful and steady, fucking you against the wall, wet slaps and soft moans filling the room between harsh kisses, lips swelling from the fervor, your ass even rhythmically smacking into the wall, but neither of you cared, your leg around his slim waist and his right arm wrapped around it, his fingers digging into your thigh, black tattoos and tan skin gleaming from sweat, his other hand clutching a fistful of your ass and ramming your drenched pussy down on his stiff cock, grinning at your soft cry of his name, staring into his eyes and not looking away, spellbound by chocolate orbs framed by wispy strands of purple.

“You always feel so fucking good…”

You pulsed around him, feeding the fire, wanton exhales mixing, dick pic forgotten.

“Hah…”

You rolled over, sighing loudly.

“Haaaaaaah…”

“You still fixated on that dick?” a deep, unimpressed voice said next to you.

You frowned and planted your phone with the inspirational dick on your face, praying for it to come to life and choke you.

“I never found out who it was…” you mumbled.

“Well, it is Saturday night. We can go crash a party and maybe you can find that dick!” exclaimed a joyful voice, poking your side. Your phone slid off your face and clattered to the floor. A cheerful hand covered in colorful clay rings waved at you and your gaze shifted to Jung Hoseok and his blond and pink hair. He was too cute and you were unable to help yourself as you looked at him, matching his heart-shaped smile.

“Nah,” you tutted. “If it’s not one of you guys… the dick isn’t worth it.”

You closed your eyes and sighed again, long and with longing.

“If it makes you feel better, we don’t know who it is either.”

You laughed hearing Kim Namjoon’s deep, serious voice. “How would you guys find out?”

“I know a lot of things,” Park Jimin’s angelic, light voice chirped.

“Too many things,” Kim Taehyung’s baritone voice remarked coolly.

“Are you gonna eat that slice of pizza, Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hyung, I am, no, stop–”

“Give Seokjinnie-hyung a bite!”

“Over my dead body!”

“Then you’re dead to me, boy! Respect your elders!”

You heard some slapping and flailing about, but didn’t open your eyes.

“He’s probably not a virgin anyway. Virgins don’t snap pics like that on strangers’ phones.”

You cracked an eye open and narrowed it at the form laying on the ground beside you. Min Yoongi was messing with his phone. His head was on a huge pillow that he wasn’t sharing. He seemed to notice your glare and turned his head to raise a lazy eyebrow at you, cat-like eyes shrouded by black hair.

“Isn’t that what you’re into?” he taunted.

Your eye twitched.

You growled, sitting up. “I’m not into virgins, damnnit! I just like listening to people who are knowledgeable about their interests, like how Namjoon goes on about human philosophy, and how Seokjin never shuts up about MapleStory, and like how you talk about music theory. Just because I don’t understand right away doesn’t mean I don’t try,” you snapped, prodding Yoongi’s firm pecs through his t-shirt. He didn’t move, completely unbothered as you continued your tirade. “I don’t know anything about TikTok, but I like listening to Hoseok talk about the latest dance and fashion trends. Jimin’s the only reason I don’t make an ass of myself at parties because he knows everything about everyone so I don’t accidentally sit in a taken person’s lap and cause trouble. Taehyung’s always following that animal rescue Instagram and giving me cool facts about all these different creatures. Jungkook can go on for hours about cameras. I still don’t think I even know how to work the aperture function on DSLRs, but as long as he will continue to explain, I’ll listen.”

You sucked in a deep breath and seethed.

“So what’s the difference?”

“What?” you scowled.

Yoongi shrugged casually.

“Why do you keep chasing dorks with glasses struggling to get stupid graduate degrees when the people you spend the most time with are here with you right now, ready to fuck you at any time?”

“That’s–”

Your words died in your throat, Yoongi’s words finally sinking in.

Silence.

“Hyung, I’m struggling to get a grad degree…” Namjoon cut in, but the black-haired man on the floor lifted a finger and sliced the air, quieting him instantly. Yoongi was watching you carefully, head tilting at your frozen state. Your brain seemed to have ceased function. His lips curved into a slow, open-mouthed smirk.

Yoongi dropped the bomb on you.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit suspicious that the dick had elements from all of ours, but never quite matched up?”

W… What?

Your head whipped to your fallen phone and you scrambled with it, bringing up the dick pic again. The photo showed up at the party with the wet t-shirt contest. Your phone has disappeared for two hours during said party. Everyone was drunk. No. Everyone had gotten drunk after your phone had mysteriously been found and returned to you. You spent the night in various laps doing various naughty things, not bothering to check your phone after retrieving it, leaving it as a later you problem. You filed through your memories, recalling their faces as you showed each and every one of them the photo.

Hold on.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit weird, almost as if…”

They weren’t as weirded out as one might be, seeing some random dick on your phone.

As if…

“As if one of us is good at photo manipulation, perhaps,” Yoongi purred.

As if they had expected to see such a photo.

Click.

You whipped your head to the left and a whirlwind of dark purple hair went flying under the coffee table, hiding behind broad shoulders, chestnut brown hair, and full lips forming an ‘o’. At the same time, the realization hit you like a falling piano from the sky.

“Did you all…” you choked, mechanically jerking from face to face, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and lastly, back at Seokjin because Jungkook was cowering behind him, large brown doe eyes behind a massive shoulder. “D-Did you all…?”

No way.

“Did you all take a dick pic and Photoshop them together into one superdick photo and PLANT IT ON MY PHONE?!”

One look at those seven faces and…

YUP.

Taehyung laughed, loud and rich, nudging Namjoon with his elbow. “Told you she wouldn’t check the details of the photo and realize it was from an outside source.”

You started and swiped around. The file name was close enough to your camera photos’ file names, but upon closer inspection…

“Oh my God…”

“She’s very easily distracted by dick,” Hoseok chuckled, infectious grin on his face.

“I am not!”

“Wanna bet?”

“Jimin, do not whip out your dick.”

You heard your name being called softly and looked up, clutching your phone, still stunned and flabbergasted that you had been lusting after a fake dick that was a fuckin’ Megazord of the seven dicks currently surrounding you and those seven were the very dicks that tricked you!

On purpose!

For what?

FOR FUN!

(GG, no re)

They got you good.

Your irritation immediately dissipated when your eyes found those anxious chocolate ones, long purple strands curling around his cheek, curious open mouth with the small mole underneath barely visible.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook asked quietly, pink lips curving into an irresistible pout.

Oh.

Shit.

Before you could quickly say, no, of course not, Jungkook, it was funny, I’m not mad at all, you felt a dark presence by your shoulder, raspy chuckle by your ear, sending shivers down your spine, whispering your name, devious and smokey.

“Whose idea do you think it was?” Yoongi murmured.

You stared into chocolate eyes.

Innocent.

Or…?

Jungkook’s pout disappeared.

His dark eyebrow cocked, mischievous smirk gracing those irresistible lips. No, not just him. Lowered lids and midnight blue hair, smug expression with a dimple. Kim Namjoon. Lifted chin, looking down at you with a sheepish yet wicked smile on full lips. Kim Seokjin. The black head of hair leaning his chin on your shoulder, laugh like a seductive purr. Min Yoongi. Tilted head balanced on long fingers decorated with colorful rings and bracelets, sly heart-shaped smile. Jung Hoseok. Shit-eating grin fanned by red hair, bouncing a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Park Jimin. Long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, spare strands framing a moody, handsome face with a glint of playful cunning. Kim Taehyung.

And then, Jeon Jungkook.

“The hyungs thought it was a great idea,” he drawled, silvery and sweet, looking extremely pleased with himself, running his tattooed hand through his purple hair, unquestionably guilty, but despairingly angelic in appearance.

These fucking…. Seven Kings of Duality!

You were positively fuming.

Silence.

An owl hooted outside the window.

“YOU PUNKS!”

You threw yourself over the coffee table and horny chaos ensued.

2021.09.01 - JK birthday drabble 2021.10.02 - Namjoon birthday drabble

masterpost

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x you #jungkook smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #jimin x reader #park jimin smut #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #namjoon smut

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severusish · 2 years

Text

One-shot

Description: It’s Severus Snape’s first year teaching at Hogwarts. He goes down to the Kitchens to get a glass of port and ends up being held hostage by concerned House Elves. Minerva floos in for her evening nightcap and cup of tea, as usual, and watches the scene unfold.

Word length: no clue

Minerva strode out of the Floo of the Hogwarts Kitchens. When she looked up, she saw Severus Snape, her former student and the new Potions Professor, in an armchair being fussed over by five or six different House Elves. When she exited the fireplace, the Elves froze and turned to look at her, looking for all the world like children caught doing something they shouldn’t have been.

Severus had a pained, almost embarrassed expression on his face, as though to say please get me out of here. His attempts to ward them off had failed and already he had eaten more in an hour than he normally did in a day.

But Minerva merely peered down at him from over her spectacles, and sat in the chair nearest to the fire. After a moment she snapped her fingers and a pile of scrolls and a quill landed in her lap. A beat passed, and she began to grade her students’ papers. Assured of her not having any plans to scold them for feeding her public rival, the House Elves began to fuss at him again. Tentatively at first, and then with increasing volume and energy.

After a minute, Minerva decided to contribute.

“You should give him chocolate, he was always fond of it,” she said, without looking towards the gaggle of Elves. The Elves collectively quirked their heads at this; two of them clapped their hands. One jumped in glee. Within seconds they were rushing about, summoning everything chocolate that they had and magicking up the rest.

“Why don’t you eat’s, sir?,” said one female elf despairingly. “You must eats. Soon you is be looking like a Bowtruckle, you is!”

A different elf, also female, clipped the one who had just spoken about the ear, using a silver food platter. The former elf held her head and groaned.

“Ow, Mitsy!”

“You’s deserves it, Gertie, and you’s is ought to be ashamed. House Elves is not to be calling Masters silly names.” A pause. “But Mitsy is being rights, Master Snapes. You needs eating.”

Throughout this exchange Minerva never looked at the Elves who surrounded the young man as though they were moths flocking to a flame.

Eventually, Severus couldn’t take it anymore.

“I thank you for your service,” said Severus politely, pushing another platter away. “Now. Away with you,” he added sternly, for good measure, lest they think him a pushover so soon into his career.

The Elves look at him with big sad eyes, unmoving. He pinched the bridge of his nose, looked at Minerva for a sign of a assistance, and finding none, sighed.

“You may put fresh linens on the bed in my chambers, and renew the spellwork in my fireplace,” he muttered reluctantly. “It seems to be faulty and that won’t do. I require it for Floo calls and travel.” He paused. “If you might have a look at the bathtub as well. I believe something has taken up residence in its pipes.”

Instantly the Elves perk up. All of them disappeared with a crack. In their absence a new Elf shuffled into the room and served Minvera tea the way she liked it.

“Thank you, Jax,” said Professor McGonagall, nodding at the elderly male Elf. The Elf, all grace, bowed his head slightly in return.

Jax turned to Severus. “I must apologize for my fellows,” said the ancient elf flawlessly, peering at Snape through watery, but frighteningly sage eyes. “They know a fruitful cause when they see one.”

The wise old Elf shuffled off, leaving Severus and Minerva alone.

“Say nothing of this,” said Severus in low urgent tones. “To anyone.”

“Of course not.”

“Because if you do—”

“Oh, spare me, young man, you know that I could hex you six ways from Sunday if I had a mind.”

“And you don’t?” said Severus, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, always. Ever since you were my student. You have a horrid snide streak in you.” She sniffed. “But I, unlike some, have the necessary self-discipline to repress my baser impulses.”

He stared at her disbelievingly. “That is… Laudable. Are you certain you don’t belong in Slytherin, McGon— Professor McGonagall?”

Minerva chuckled, both at his question and his mistake. “No. It was my first choice at my Sorting. And it’s Minerva, dear, not Professor.”

Severus blinked. “Then you must call me Severus.”

She bowed her head slightly.

After a moment, she spoke. “Do you play chess, Professor Snape?”

“I do not.”

She looked at him over her glasses. “I shall have to remedy that. Didn’t they play chess in the Slytherin Common room?”

“They did. I never joined. I merely watched.”

“Ah. Well. Meet me here this time next week, and every week after. Albus refuses to play chess with me ever since he lost the last time. I need an opponent who isn’t a sore loser.”

Taking this as his cue to leave, Snape stood, and bowed at the waist. “Tuesday nights at eight o’clock it is, then, M–”, he inhaled sharply and corrected himself. “Minerva.”

He was almost at the door when she spoke again.

“Oh, and Severus?”

He turned to look at her.

“I never did stand by what those four boys did to you during your time as our student. I fought Albus on every decision he made regarding what to do with them and what to do with you. James Potter was many things, but he was not a wise boy. He knew my thoughts on the subject; I told him many times in his private meetings with me that he ought to tread carefully and think before he acted. But, well,” said Minerva, giving a slightly wistful smile. “You know as well as I do that young men rarely listen to us old folk.”

Severus frowned. “The thought is appreciated, Professor McGonagall.” He paused. “Minerva. Good evening to you. I look forward to beating you next Tuesday.”

He bowed his head, and swept from the room, leaving Minerva to stare thoughtfully after him.

“Cheeky boy,” she said to herself.

Then, in the silence of the room, she turned back to her seventh year papers. Soon the only noise in the parlor of the Hogwarts Kitchens was the crackling of the fire, the scratching of her quill, and something that sounded suspiciously like purring.

#Severus and Minerva #ALSO HE HEARD NOISES IN THE PIPES ITS FORESHADOWING TO THE CHANBER OF SECRETS HEHEHE #snape and mcgonagall friendship #Snape and McGonagall #pro snape #snape community #snape defender #severusish says #severus snape #snolidarity #snape #snover #snoyalty #severusish writes #severusish fics #my writing #will upload to ffn #GOD IM BEHIND ON FICS

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