Summary:You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.
Word count: 3423
Warnings:Language, mission/war related violence and gore, shooting, enemy deaths, i think that’s all…*shrugs*
A/N: Chap.9 finally, I know! This is a it of an information dump/setting the rest of the story arc up chapter. I tried to dial down the angst since you lovies all told me how you cried on the last chapter :( and put some action and humour in instead. I hope you like this one and I CAN’T WAIT to give you guys chapter 10 in a few days so please stick around through this one! it’s worth the wait!
**I’m actually legit terrified that i peaked with the last chapter and nothing will ever be as good, especially this chapter, but i hope to give you guys a good story for the rest of the series.
Feedback fuels my life btw….and the picture is from google…i searched for beautiful things… ;]
wake up we gotta go.”
rough, scratchy voice woke you from an uneasy sleep. Your head was pounding and your eyes felt sticky,
as if they’d been glued together in the night. “Mmm, wha—w’as happ’nin’?” you mumbled,
rubbing a hand down your face.
in Brooklyn, we gotta go. Get dressed,”
Clint replied. He smacked your leg and
the bed bounced as he got up and walked towards the closet.
about the desert? Nebraska?”
Mexico,” Clint clarified with a snort.
“There’s no desert in Nebraska.
Remind me to get you a map for your birthday. Now, get—up.”
He ripped the blanket away from you, causing you to squeal as cold air
rushed over your legs.
“Gah! I’m up!
I’m up!” You jolted upwards and
scrambled out from the bed.
Hey Fam, did I tell you how much I love Maximillian Kolenda Pacioretty. Like he’s the captain of my heart and I think he’s the best human ever. Like seriously whenever the one who shall not be name (trashbag therrien) made shitty comments (LIKE THAT TIME HE SAID PATCHES WAS THE WORDT CAPTAIN EVER), Patches just continued to do his thing and hockey. Patches didn’t even throw therrien under the bus when he got fired (that was like a blessed day). My first ever hockey jersey was my Pacioretty one and I cry a little inside when I wear bc The Light of My Life Max Pacioretty ya know? He’s such a great soul and so pure. Anyways please continue with your day and sorry for the sudden burst of emotion.
Marinette’s heart lurches painfully at his question. In the past several months she’s become expert at the Art of Reading Adrien, and the way that he nervously fiddles with the scarf belies the even voice she hears. She hopes he doesn’t think she’s going to deny him this.
“Close your eyes.”
He complies, and as she twists off the couch to face him, she hears his restrained breathing.
Scratch nervous, he was terrified. She puts a hand between his shirt collar and his scarf, hoping to ease his nerves as she leans closer and takes him in.
Framed in the red sunlight and his eyelashes grazing his cheeks, he looked serene. Had she not known him, the assumption would have been fair.
Her eyes slide along the strange patches of light thrown across his face and drift down to his mouth.
…How long had she really wanted to do this when she wasn’t busy lying to herself? She tries to push the thought out of her mind as the centimeters between them compress and her bangs mingle with his.
She’d dedicated to memory his laughter at the first stupid meme she’d shown him, the pride in his compliment when she made a bad pun to his face, the way he’d bear hug her at the end of her shift and try to stop her from making it to his door, and the pain that the gesture did little to mask.
She does her best to etch into her memory the brief hitch in his breath as she gently touches her lips to his.
“Of all planets, it had to be a desert one? I can’t take MY hotness and the planet’s heat. I’m going to melt.” He huffed, looking at the others.
Allura sighed, “We needed a place to land. When Haggar hit Voltron with her spell, we didn’t know what the potential effects would be. Coran is running tests now.”
The team sighed in unison, but decided doing a little scouting wouldnt hurt anybody.
Just get a look around.
As time wore on, and small talk was made here and there, Lance began to notice Hunk looking uncomfortable.
The yellow paladin was limping, and rubbing random parts of his armor.
“Hunk, buddy, are you alright?” Lance asked, make the five of them stopped and attention to go to the man.
“Uh, yeah? Or, actually, I don’t really think so but it could be nothing. It’s like, I’m not sure.” Hunk sighed, and reached to take off his helmet.
“I think it’s just too hot—”
A round of gasps and a shout from Pidge startled the large, anxious boy. He looked around quickly, “What? Is there something on my face?”
A large hand rest on his cheek, but didn’t move further. “Please tell me this is just try skin?”
Shiro had his eyes wide, “Hunk, you look like a Balmeran. Did yo— Pidge!”
The green paladin was sprouting antennae like things on her forehead, like the Olkari.
“What’s going on? Paladins?” Allura said over com, only hearing grunts and shouts.
The entire team was doubled over, their limbs contortion into species that only a few they recognized.
It wasn’t painful, in a sense.
But it also wasn’t pleasant either.
“Princess, look!” Coran could be heard, “Don’t you see?! Haggar’s Magic is turnin into the original makers of the lions!”
The mustachioed man almost seemed excited, despite the circumstances.
Allura was not as excited, looking a little less than horrified. “Paladins! Did you hear that?” She noticed her uncle paying more attention to the screen to watch the team.
“Coran, please try and fix up the damage the castle took during battle. We need to leave as soon as possible so we can get this reversed.” The Princess demanded.
Outside, most lay on their sides and panted. It was quite a stampede of multiple alien species.
Keith sat up first, shaky. But in all honesty he didn’t FEEL much different, in fact, the only thing he noticed was that the heat didn’t bother him.
It felt refreshing, actually.
A species that lived within volcanoes.
“Is everyone…okay?” It was a sort of dumb question. Everyone certainly wasn’t okay, their bodies just drastically different.
“I’m okay.” Pidge answered, sounding a little bit sick. She was impressed by the Olkari, but only for their skill. Not their look.
Hunk nodded, “I’m alright too. Boy, what do you think Shay would think of this?”
Shiro was already standing, now helping Keith. “Are you okay?” The black paladin had concern and also confusion in his voice.
So this is what Haggar had done to them? What was her point? It didn’t largely affect the group much so far.
There had to be something they weren’t seeing. Would the lions not accept them?
No, precious Paladins hadn’t all been human so surely other species were allowed inside.
They were still the same people as well.
“Come on everybody, we need to get back to the castle to see if there’s a way to reverse this.” Shiro let go of Keith, turning.
One, Two, Three, himself was Four…
Wait, where was Lance?
“Oh my god! Lance?!” Hunk shoved past Shiro all of a sudden and everyone turned to see their blue paladin.
It was an unanimous hold of breath.
The bottom of his armor was completely gone, discarded a few feet away, and any cloth that remained was torn at.
His legs gone.
Now, not completely detached of course, but replaced. With what?
A several foot long mermaid tail, bright blue and shimmering in the desert sun.
“Holy sh…” Keith trailed off and they all quickly followed Hunks footsteps.
The yellow paladin, looking Balmeran, rolled Lance over with a grunt. That tail was massive and weighed more than Lance himself normally.
“Lance? Hey, Lance, I know I look funny but it’s Hunk. Are you okay?” Worry etched into his voice.
The mermaid boy’s eyes were wide, and a solid blue color. Lighter blue pupils danced in the middle. Scales ran around his cheeks, all the way down his neck and arms and back in light patches.
He had thick gills flaring on the sides of his neck, and Lances mouth wide open as he was seemingly gasping for air.
The blue paladin already was red in the face, and it became quite obvious that he was in a “fish out of water” state.
“Oh god, Shiro, guys— L-Lance can’t breathe!” Hunk feel his own breath pick up, and he grabbed one of Lance’s webbed hands.
“What do we do?!” Pidge asked, all eyes going to their leader.
Way to be put on the spot.
Shiro turned, seeing the castle as a faint speck across the hot desert plains. There would be no way to get Lance back in time.
Especially in this state, and how hard he would be to carry with the massive mermaid tail.
Shiro cursed in his head, “Uh, I— Princess Allura, we have an emergency. Lance was turned to some, uh, merperson? We need to get him back and into water, he can’t breathe.”
Even the black paladin was a little flustered, because this was one of his teammates lives on the line.
He managed to keep a strong demeanor.
Static answered them, before Allura finally responded back. “Can you carry him? Coran just shut down the castle for repairs, we can’t get to the pods for at least another five minutes if we were to power on again.”
Keith was next to Lance now, wearing the same worried expression he did when Lance was in the healing pod.
“He doesn’t HAVE five minutes!” Keith felt anger boil within, and the ground at his knees sizzled and smoked.
“You have to carry him! Try!” Allura said, “We are powering on the castle. We will get there as soon as possible!”
It hit the team hard how grave of a situation they were in now. Lance was dying, turned into a water creature in the middle of a hot desert.
It was impossible.
Hunk spoke fast. “I’m Balmeran right? Could I heal him or something?”
Keith looked up, “Do you know how to do that? Don’t you need the Balmera planet’s life force?”
Everyone deflated when Hunk shook his head slowly, scared. All heads slowly bowed to look at Lance.
He had passed out, but his gills still desperately fought for a source of air that they could breathe.
They were slowing.
Lance looked so dry.
“We…have to try carrying him. Come on.”
The team silently surrounded Lance, picking him up from different angles and hoisting him off of the dirt.
Hunk and Shiro at the tail, Pidge and Keith near his upper human half.
They walked and walked, despite physical exhaustion and the heat they all had to keep going.
Save your friend.
Keep going, keep going.
Team Voltron knew it wasn’t going to work out. They listened to Allura and Coran in their headsets, bickering about how quickly things needed done and what needed done.
This wasn’t a walk to save their friend.
Even if they had tried harder, Lances survival probability wouldn’t have been much better.
They were too far away from the ship, and Lance was heavy in this condition.
With sullen faces and sweaty palms, gnawed lips and teary eyes, they walked on.
This was no longer a walk to save their friend. Not anymore.
I’m an eclectic witch, more or less. My personal practices are a hodge-podge of things I’ve picked up all over the place, peppered with my own ideas, obsessions, and twists on things. Over time, all that different stuff has simmered and condensed into a thick, pungent stew with a particular flavor of its own. I’ve decided to call this concoction “weirdling witchcraft”.
I’m not entirely sure many other people will like the taste of this particular woo-woo stew, but I’m gonna share it anyway…just in case.
Now, the tough part. Actually defining the thing.
Weirdling witchcraft is, more or less, the practice of strategically suspending your belief in reality. What the flying fox-nuggets do I mean, you ask? Well, I’ll attempt to tell you.
As humans, our perception of all that surrounds us is very limited, and our understanding of “reality” is little more than a rough framework, hand-holds in the darkness. Through science, we’re able to illuminate little patches, but even light leaves things unseen, and the darkness of the unknown stretches on into infinity.
All that, the unknown, the unknowable, is the stuff of magick. As witches and practitioners of the occult, we are largely differentiated by our varied modes of not only defining it, but perceiving, shaping, and interacting with it.
Weirdling witchcraft, in particular, is about celebrating it.
It’s about living with the viewpoint that nothing is truly mundane. Existence itself is a marvel and a mystery. We move through layers of reality both seen and unseen, all of it tangled together into a greater whole.
To be a weirdling witch is to live amidst and as a part of all that with an open mind, a sense of wonder and a spirit of exploration. To perceive the world as a magickal and alien place and to experience it as best I can, while at the same time maintaining the kind of practicality required to take care of myself within whatever framework I’m currently existing.
If that’s about as clear as mud (or if it just sounds like general occultism), I apologize. However, this is officially the first in what’s going to be a series of posts describing my path and the practices and ideas that define it. Don’t worry, though. I’ll still be posting mostly sigils :P
“Shhh, they’ll hear us.” He cooed softly into your ear as his body pressed downwards into yours, the heat of his skin pulsing a desire so deep you couldn’t deny the attraction.
You hadn’t wanted this to happen. You hadn’t wanted to end up here, spread wide on the couch in the boys dorm with Jungkook’s body nestled so comfortably between your thighs. When you were intimate, you were usually so much more careful - Jungkook taking every pain to eliminate the potential to be found. Because if any of the boys walked in on you, it was game over. For both of you. It was your job on the line, and his reputation.
But lately, you couldn’t help it. And lately, you’d found yourself needing him so much more, the willingness to risk it all for what he offered you growing beyond what you could rationalize. So here you were, legs opening for him with such ease after he’d cornered you with that cute, shy smirk he so often flicked your way despite the danger. You’d only meant to drop off their outfits for the photoshoot tomorrow, however him answering the door alone (the others were sleeping, he’d informed you) and wearing that smirk had instantly told you you’d be here longer than you’d intended.
It had all started over a year ago, after a night of heavy drinking. For some reason, you hadn’t stopped it when he’d asked to continue, though. Your discreet meetings with the shy maknae had blossomed as his confidence had grown with your body. He knew how to please you now. He knew how to touch you in ways that had your knees weak and your heart fast. He knew just how you liked it, and he knew he could have you anywhere and anyway he wanted.
The quivering fingers that had once explored your body tentatively - their shakiness giving away his nerves - were now smooth and calculated as they slipped under the silken lace of your bra. The fumbling over your nipples in blunt strokes had been exchanged for the delicate circles of varying pressure he was now administering, causing the heated pool in your core to pressure your hips into rising against his thick erection. He wasn’t the shy maknae anymore. He was your Jungkook.
‘Fuck… Oh, god.’ In mere seconds, his palms slid their way around your ribs and your the bra was gone, the plump flesh of his pout dusting speckled kisses across your tits. Your hips rose against, trying desperately to build the friction between your thighs. His lips encased the soft rose flesh of your left nipple, tongue stroking deftly against the metal of your piercing. Another breath blew a moan straight from your mouth as he circled again, the very quiet clink of metal against his teeth sending a shiver through you.
His mouth continued to caress your nipple, one hand cupping the other breast as his thumb and forefinger pinched against the skin of your right one. Briefly, he pulled away, eyes meeting yours to flash you a warning.
‘I’m serious. Hoseok is a light sleeper.,’ He warns before dotting a kiss in the middle of your chest without breaking eye contact - the beginning of a slow, careful path down your torso. ‘Can you handle it, Y/N?’ Two hands raked down your ribs as he kissed against your flesh, making their way to the matching lace panties that were already showing the signs of your arousal, a damp patch visible in the light silk fabic.
‘Jungkook, I…,’ It wasn’t often that he offered you oral sex. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to - but lately, your meetings had been brief and quick. The last time you’d had the chance to fuck, it had been in the bathroom of a venue. The whole ordeal had lasted 10 minutes before you’d been interrupted by a sharp knock on the locked door, the thought of being caught enough to make Jungkook soft and you too scared to keep going. So to have Jungkook looking up from this position - on his knees, deep eyes peering up at you as his hands rested delicately on your hips - was too much to deny, despite your apprehension. ‘I can.’
Your agreement is met with the softest kiss against the pearl cream of the material, a shivering jolt flushing through your entire system. His fingers looped against the material before slowly pushing it to the side, tongue stretching to circle your already swollen clit.
‘Mmmm…,’ He murmured into your folds as his tongue slipped deftly through you. ‘This is what I wanted.’
‘Fuck, Jungkook.’ It’s all you could offer him as the waves of pleasure seeped through your entire being. Instinctively, you found your hands reaching up to tug lightly on his already messy hair, tangling into the knotty strands.
‘Shit…,’ He chuckled smoothly, the vibrations purring against your core. ‘I love it when you get aggressive.’ It was then that his lips curled into a smirk against you. It was then that you felt the smile flick across his face, stretching pleasingly as the movement tickled smoothly against you. And it was then that you knew no matter where you went, or what you did, you were his. And he could have you anywhere.
When I was a kid, the one thing I wanted more than anything else was a Cabbage Patch Kid.
But, in the late 80s/early 90s - they didn’t make Cabbage Patch Kids with light brown skin and dark brown hair and eyes.
There was black and white and that’s how the world was divided….but not because I grew up in Southall.
Pretty much every kid I went to school with had brown skin, brown hair and a mom who made them eat rice every night.
So, where were our dolls?
I watched Hasan Minhaj’s Netflix special - Homecoming King - recently and I fucking loved it. LOVED it. It was like hanging out with my coolest cousins - it was hilarious, heartfelt and bilingual.
Here’s a dude that looks like me and sounds like me.
Someone who can reference Drake and knows heartbreak.
Someone who also understands that if you’re reading this, it’s already too late, I’ve bit the fucking laving in the biryani and I think I might be dying, man.
Over the past couple of years - I’ve noticed it more and more.
More Indians represented in media.
More people who look like me and sound like me.
For me, it started with Kal Penn in Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle.
For the first time in my life - I saw an Indian character I could relate to. For once, I saw an Indian person who didn’t have a thick, ridiculous accent. An Indian person who wasn’t mocked with “smelly curry” jokes.
Sidebar: Literally fuck every single person who makes this joke. Firstly, people didn’t die in the spice trade for you to be so goddamn ignorant and secondly, do you even understand how complicated and lush and beautiful a curry is? How much time and energy and love it takes to make? No. You don’t. So, shut the hell up and try not to choke on your shitty mayonnaise sandwich.
I saw an Indian dude who dropped pop culture references and used the word “dude” about as much as I do. I saw someone whose dad looked like an angrier version of Paps. I saw an Indian who wasn’t a doctor or an engineer or a call center employee.
Alright, fine. He was applying to med school in the movie but like the man said:
And then came Mindy Kaling who was basically a goddamn revelation in really cute shoes.
A smart, funny, mouthy Indian woman WRITER who gives ALL the fucks about cute packaging for make-up and SNL sketches?
It was like hearing my voice for the first time. Holy shit - that’s what I sound like?! That’s amazing! My voice is like a cross between Fergie Asha Bhosle and Jesus!
And of course, there’s Aziz Ansari. A man who created a genuinely honest look at the first-generation immigrant experience for millennials with Master of None.
The “Parents” episode of the first season and the “Religion” episode of the second season really hit home for me. The former deals with the stark differences between immigrant parents and their children and the latter deals with coming out to your parents about your lack of religious convictions - both issues I’ve certainly dealt with in the past couple of years.
I am part of #NewBrownAmerica
I can talk about the issues of the GOP condemning systemic poverty as if it were a mortal sin, I can rhyme every single word in Montell Jordan’s This Is How We Do It, I know how Ganesh got his elephant head and that Mom has hidden little Ganesh statues in all of my apartments she’s been in and I’ve been making cups of chai since I was six-years-old, so I’m totally comfortable mocking the shit out of anyone who orders chai tea lattes.
Chai means tea. Latte means milk. You’re ordering a tea tea milk and you need to knock it off.
And I can do whatever the hell I dream of doing because isn’t that the promise of America?
I’ve even become more comfortable with speaking Gujarati. I mean, I’m super rubbish at it and my pronunciation will make every one of my masis wince, but I’m not embarrassed anymore like I used to be.
We were trying to book an AirBnB last night and I asked J to text the link to our buddy.
“How do I do that?” “Here. Batawu.”
As in, here. Let me show you.
I’m becoming more myself and it feels easier.
Maybe because I’m in my mid-30s and you just don’t care as much about that kind of stuff anymore but also because there’s a we now.
I see people like myself on television and it’s such a big fucking deal. And you know what’s even more exciting?
In like, fifty years - it won’t even be a big deal anymore. Some little Indian girl is going to see tons of people on TV like her and she won’t even bat an eye because duh, why wouldn’t Indian people be on TV like everyone else?
Representation matters and seeing this new crop of talented, smart, funny and brilliant brown people who grew up on Bollywood and Barbies, Ganesh and Ghostbusters and the goddamn pressure cooker going off at 8:00 in the morning gives me such hope.
((Just for the purpose of this one shot, Jaime was released from the Kingsguard after Robert’s Rebellion and retook his place as Tywin’s heir. I did my best to stick to your exact request. I hope you like it!))
Word Count: 2,162
Warning: Some Smut. Definitely. I suppose cousin incest.
You were born to Ser Kevan Lannister and Lady Dorna Swyft
and were raised in the halls of Casterly Rock right alongside your cousins,
Jaime and Cersei. You were beautiful, as all Lannisters are, and you had a bit
of wit and spunk as well. Growing up, you had the typical look of a Lannister
and was often compared to Cersei.
Day 3: Hunger
Hello reader! It’s 3:03A.M so…Anyway here is my day 3 one shot.
*A long time after all canon events. Aged up, late high school years. Some “activity”. I wrote the full thing then thought ‘that’ part was shitty so I cut it out…*
He Tian had become infatuated. Completely, utterly infatuated. He had tried nodding it off as fondness in middle school. An admiration. A simple, playful game of cat and mouse you could say. It was never meant to drag him this far away from the sidelines. Never supposed to keep him up this late. Never meant to keep him under cold water for that long.
He couldn’t even figure when he had let himself be carried away. When he had developed difficulties pulling his eyes away from the small by subtle hip sway made when he walked. Or the shallow dips of his collar bone. The thinness of his wrists. His entirety practically screamed at his eyes, just begging for attention. Attention he was willing it give as long as it was silent. He had made the choice years ago to praise the body without touching. Or at least meaningfully touching. He was a flirt after all and Mo was such an easy tease. Somethings had to stay.
First year he had started to ponder the meaning of the heat he was left with after Guan Shan had touched his shoulder. Second year he skimmed over the several names for the same subject. Mulling over the slight differences between all of the names he still couldn’t pinpoint. Now was his third years. He had found the word defining his doubled sided bliss. Infatuation. He was infatuated with him. It was the only explanation.
It had to be that, otherwise He Tian wouldn’t have noticed all the little things in his behavior, his appearance, his speech. Normally, if it would’ve been an admirer he would have shrugged it off. He would’ve paid no mind, leaving the other to, he admitted cruelly, realize the lack of interest on their own. He would have never acknowledged every small quirk. Never study their behavior as intently. He Tian was an observer naturally but he was rarely this involved in a topic.
He’d never even take the time to list all the pleasing aspects of an individual. But, Guan Shan had been the one to change that, unknowingly. He Tian had the list memorized so well it was as if he had it plastered to his wall, pledging to it everyday.
One of those many reason was the fact that he had perfect skin. He Tian couldn’t call it anything other than that. It had no little marks anywhere. It was smooth and had a milky creme color to it. It was curved delicately to its owners bones.
How he craved to touch that skin. To taste it. To bruise it. He desired to feel it burn up underneath his finger tips. To see it flush red. He wished to see it form sweat droplets.
If only he could truly study the skin’s texture. Memorize every dip of the hip bone. Every bump of the spine. Ever corner of the jaw.
If he could he feel that skin against his. Have it rub desperately against him.
If only he could have Mo Guan Shan.
It was Friday. Lunch had been let out and all the students and teachers had left the class to enjoy their meals and socialize. Everyone has flunk the classrooms, opting to enjoy the sunny weather. All except the two of them, of course. He Tian and Mo had made an agreement a year ago to eat together during lunch, alternating between each of their classrooms. Today they were in He Tian’s classroom.
He Tian had stayed seated, packing up his supplies in the meantime. Mo had gotten rather comfortable with him over the years. This had its benefits and downsides. He was more mellowed out around him. He wasn’t as quick to jump down his throat after being teased. He was still mouthy every now and then. Still He Tian’s Sass and Ass department, or soon to be ass…in the future hopefully.
Also, surprisingly, he had also started to join the flirting. Mo’s flirting was always secondary and gentle. More playful. And as cute as it was, it was just another thing ripping up He Tian’s mind.
“Yo.” He Tian glanced up from his book bag. In the doorway was a familiar ginger, two sandwichs in his hands.
“Catch,” He quipped chucking the sandwich towards He Tian. The latter received and glanced back at the other. Mo walked the rest of the distance as He Tian scooted his chair back some. Mo slide in the small space between the desk and He Tian. Backing up a step, sitting atop the desk. He Tian gave a small grin before opening the wrap around the sandwich. “So, how has your day been, Darling?” He purred glancing up at the other.
Mo glared dully down at him before unwrapping his own sandwich, taking a bite. “My fucking legs are killing me.”
“Oh?” He Tian took a bite himself. “Why’s that?”
“First off, I had insomnia last night and then they expected me to do all these laps within 10 minutes.”
“Poor baby,” He Tian drawled sarcastically. Taking another bite.
Rolling his eyes, Mo continued, “I am. I should have just asked to go sleep in the nurses office.”
“Or you should have just stayed home and slept.”
“You know very well of the promise I made to my mother.” Mo replied sternly nibbling at his sandwich.
“Indeed, but still, if it was so bad you could of acted sick.”
“And do that to her, I don’t think so." "Plus, I’m exaggerating a little. My legs do hurt though.”
“Would you like a massage my dear?”
“Yeah-no, I’m going to have to pass fucktard.”
Mo nudges He Tian’s leg, so he can slide off the desk. He Tian finished his own sandwich just as Mo was about to sit back up in the desk. “Take mine too?” He Tian asked sweetly.
Rolling his eyes, again, Mo took the plastic wrap. “You lazy fucker.” He says half-heartedly.
“I’m your lazy fucker though.” He Tian teases as he watches Mo throw the trash in the bin.
“Hardly, dickhead.” Mo replies dully. Once in arm range He Tian grips one of Mo’s thighs. Pulling him into his lap and fastening him there with a grip to his hips. “Don’t be that way,” He Tian purrs making a small blush creep onto Mo’s face. “C'mon, stop that.”
“What, you against straddling~”
“No the bell rings in 5. Lemme up,”
He Tian can’t but think, 'smart-ass.’
He Tian loosens his grip, not letting Mo go. “Goodbye kiss?” He asks puckering slightly.
Mo rolls his eyes, for the third time. Blushing a shade darker he places a finger to He Tian’s lips. “Nope, just a goodbye.” Mo mewls back.
Alright. You win this round. He Tian thinks feeling a fond smirk cross his lips. He releases his grip on Mo’s hips. Guan Shan hopping up shortly afterwards. Heading towards the doorway.
Stopping in front of the trim around the door he asked, “I’m coming to you’re place to make dinner, correct?”
He Tian crosses his arm over his chest and nods. Mo nods also before giving a sassy, “Alrighty, bye fucker,”
He Tian can’t help but smile to himself. “Later, Red.” And then he pops out of the classroom. Leaving He Tian smiling fondly towards the doorway. Utterly, helplessly gone. He truly had him wrapped around his pinkie. God forbid he realized it one of these days.
“Food.” Aw yes, one of the best thins to hear in life. Or so He Tian had decided. He entered his kitchen seeing the usual. A meal along the stove, plates, silverware, and a ginger. Moving towards the stove He Tian began to make his own plate. Glancing to his side he saw Mo yawn, stretching his arms over his head.
Mo began to leave the kitchen before He Tian caught his attention. “Where you going?” He asked grabbing a cup from one of the over head cabinets.
“I’m going to go lay on your couch. My legs hurt remember.”
He did remember actually. “Just go lay on the bed. The cushion will be better for your muscles.”
“Alright but if you make me wash the sheets when I wake up for some reason like; I drooled, or You got your germs on my sheets, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Go sleep.” He Tian replied giving a shooing motion. In response he received a grunt. Then he was left to eat in silence.
He finished a good minute after, placing his dish in the sink for later. He returned to the main room. Glancing to his left he saw Mo laying along his stomach on the bed. He Tian walks towards the bed, crouching near Mo’s face. He’s out. That was quick.
He Tian shakes his head before standing upright. His eyes trace out the outline of Mo on his bed absent minded. Coming to rest at the sliver of skin showing on his lower back.
He Tian stared at the light colored patch of skin. It looked awfully soft. He was oddly curious. 'Fuck…’
He Tian looked away contemplating whether or not to act. Logically, it was risky and impulsive. He had worked hard to keep this friendship stable. Tip-toeing around boundaries. But lustfully…When would he ever get a chance again. Actually never. He’d never get another chance to touch the pureness of Guan Shan. He admitted it was a pervy move but…
Easing into the bed softly, He Tian placed his knees on each side of Mo’s thighs. Lowering himself slightly He Tian let his hands glide over the exposed skin. It was soft as he had expected. He Tian thumbed around the dip of the hip. Drawing circles around the indention.
Gently, he raises the t-shirt further up Guan Shan’s back. He Tian lowers himself further, kissing the small of Guan Shan’s back. Trailing up along the spine, He Tian placed delicate kisses.
“He Tian," Mo croaks quietly.
"Yes,” 'He’s awake?’
Shifting Mo glances behind him. “What you doing…” 'Half awake at least.’
“Guan Shan.” 'Might as well wake the rest of him up’, He Tian declares to himself. He Tian rolls Mo over onto his back gently. Blinking slowly, he awakes. Mo stares up at He Tian realizing the situation. Slowly He Tian can see a blush arising.
“Y-yes?” Mo flops out quickly, eyes wide.
“Are you opposed to me continuing?” He Tian stared down at Mo seriously. Mo tilts his head away face now showing a clearer blush. “Uh, I mean…”
He Tian leaned in towards Mo’s face. “You mean..”
Mo Guan Shan stared at He Tian. He speaks in a chopped, flustered tone. “I am…not opposed..”
He Tian breaks the stare, giving a small smirk. “I’m glad.” He Tian leans in further. Carefully placing He lips against Mo’s. He presses softly. Seconds later he heard a hum from Mo and feels the other move his lips against He Tian’s. He pulls back smiling, as he looks at Guan Shan’s expression.
“You’re not just going to leave with with that are you?” Mo asks raising a brow.
Alright fucker. He Tian leans in quicker this time. He presses his lips against Mo’s more fiercely. Mo returns with a small fierceness, awkwardly. He Tian slides his hands under Mo’s shirt. Tracing the lines along his stomach.
Mo hums as He Tian runs his hands gently along his sides. Thumbing around his hip bone.
He Tian pulls his lips back a few centimeters allowing Mo to inhale again before clasping over his mouth again. This time He Tian slides his tongue into Guan Shea’s mouth, making the other gasp in surprise. He Tian watched Mo’s face light fire.
He let his tongue search the other’s mouth. Glossing over Mo’s teeth He Tian tastes the other’s tongue. He tastes like peppermint oddly enough. Pulling away fir a gasp of air, He Tian breathes against Mo’s lips. “You have gum?”
Mo panted lowly as he rose a confused brow. “I had…a Peppermint,” He Tian nodded. Moving his hand from under the t-shirt He Tian tugged at the hems. Pulling it off of Mo, He Tian removed his own shirt.
Gliding his fingers across the sensitive skin He Tian lowered himself. Kissing at the end of the ribs he trailed upwards. His eyes flicked up to Guan Shan’s as he headed up his collarbone. “He Tian…”
He Tian stopped at his neck. “Yes?” He breathed. He watched Guan Shan swallow unsurely before being told to continue. He Tian gave a small kiss to Mo Guan Shan’s neck. He then begins to suck on the spot, causing Mo to squirm underneath him. “H..he Tian..” Mo croaks. He Tian detached and views his first mark on the other. It was a simple dark red.
Feeling pleased with himself He Tian goes in for a second time. Mo tilted his head allowing easier access. He Tian sucked the skin with a little more force. Leaving a large blotch than the first. He Tian quicken his pace. He began to leave a minefield of hickeys. All ranged from small and red to large and purple. He Tian could feel Mo trembling underneath him.
“Guan Shan, you going to even make it to the actual round?” He Tian teased. Mo glared at him before closing his eyes.
“You,” Mo huffed. “Better put a condom on you fucker,”
Smirking down He Tian mewled back, “Of course my love.”
“He Tian, I’m going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow, you fuck!” Mo wailed moving slowly onto his side to face the accused.
“Most definitely.” He Tian confirmed making Mo pull an annoyed expression. He Tian chucked to himself.
“But that’s tomorrow.” He Tian slung an arm around the other’s waist. He pulled Mo close to his chest as the other blushes. Not refusing the embrace though. “For now just sleep.” Using his other free hand to switch the lamp off.
Sighing into He Tian’s chest Mo inched closer into He Tian’s chest. His forehead resting against He Tian’s collarbone. He Tian placed his chin atop Mo’s head.
“About time, huh?” Mo spoke quietly.
“Hm?” He Tian grunted.
Mo chuckled quietly before replying. “You think I couldn’t feel your stare digging into my ass 24/7?”
He Tian pulled his chin from Mo’s head. Leaning back slightly He Tian tried to see some of Mo’s dimly light features. “You think you’re cute, you little shit.”
“No,” Mo mused softly. “But you do,”
He Tian smirked, “Oh? When did I say that?”
“Good night, He Tian.” Mo said shuffling into He Tian’s chest again.
'You think you’re slick.’ He Tian thought shaking his head. Sighing contently He Tian quietly replied. “Yeah, good night, carrot-top.”