the walk up was a husk

Hot For Teacher [Rick Grimes x Reader]

Character: Rick Grimes

Word Count: 4,022

Prompt/Summary: High School/University AU 

Warnings: Smut, Language, Dirty Talk, Taboo Relationship, Unprotected Sex

Note: I’m baaacccckkkk! Sorry, it took me so long to start writing again, this pesky thing called real life kept getting in the way. Anyway, here is some STRAIGHT UP FILTH for @such-a-common-girl ‘s 1K Writing Challenge. Congrats Ana! No one deserves 1K more than you, girl! Enjoy!

Keep reading


Vegas | Tease | Oops | D | Game | Mistake

Note: Here’s Vegas 3, enjoy this banter, sin, and fluff. I enjoyed writing it. I love this series so much, actually. Oh yeah, and this is only halfway edited, so don’t kill me if there are careless mistakes.

Word Count: 2293

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Warnings: SMUT. quickie, mouth covering, trying not to get caught sex

Originally posted by matthew-daddario

“Daveed!” You yelled frustratingly from his kitchen. It was the morning after the concert and you were sore, frustrated, and most of all energy-deprived, so when you realized that you couldn’t reach the coffee mugs in his kitchen, you were already fed up.

You felt a warm pair of bare arms snake themselves around your waist and a body press itself against you from behind.

“Hmm?” Daveed’s breath was hot against your neck, creating goosebumps on your body.

You sighed, subconsciously leaning back into him. “Why do you put your coffee mugs so damn high on the shelf? You know I can’t reach them.”

“My bad,” he murmured, reaching up to grab a mug for you and set it on the counter. You knew he was smirking even though you couldn’t see him. “But it’s not my fault you’re short.”

Keep reading

Finding a Dream - A Super Sons Story

Synopsis: Jon has to support and comfort Damian, who’s begun to have recurring dreams of a friend he was supposed to have…a friend that doesn’t exist in this timeline…a boy named Colin Wilkes.

This is my first serious Damijon fic, so I hope you guys enjoy :D

“Damian, slow down!”

“Ironic, considering you’re the one with super speed. I’m leaving you behind if you don’t keep up!”

Jon sighed in resignation as Damian ran ahead of him. They were at an abandoned warehouse this time, another late night out in Damian’s frenzied search for someone who seemed to never actually be there. Damian leaped atop a stack of container vans, meticulously searching for any clues. Jon trudged behind him, trying his best to pretend he didn’t want to go home. Not that Damian was stopping him, but he was too worried about his friend to even consider leaving.

Keep reading

Here’s to Happiness (Lin x Reader)

Word Count: 3,126

Warnings: swears and angst…

Authors Note: i know its been a while yall and im really sorry! its almost been a month. I had finals just this past week and i was so drained but i managed to milk this fic out! enjoy, and let me know what you thought!!

Summary: He deserved to be happy, but so did you. 

Dedicated to: @hamilton-noodles because she’s a super good friend of mine and makes me happy.

Not requested


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! Whenever you get free time, may I please request a scenario with Sir Youngjae(Got7) and JB in the shower? With like lots and LOTS of dirty talk, and a daddy kink. 😆😆 Also i love you!😙okay bye bye.😶


“Hey Youngjae.” You sighed softly opening the door to drip your things on the floor with a groan.

“Hey Y/N. What’s wrong?” The male asked softly looking at you from the couch. He had worry etched on his features and lately all you had been doing was coming home to vent to your best friend. You felt a little bit bad for it because he deserved so much more. Shaking your head, you gave a soft smile moving to take off your heels and lock the door passing by the back of the couch where he was residing you ruffled his hair and made your way up the stairs towards your shower.

“Don’t worry about it cutie. I’ll be down soon.” You called out stripping your clothes and going into your room. You were grabbing all the things you would need to shower, and when you walked out from your room with a big fluffy towel around your waist and a bottle of shampoo you heard the door open and shut signaling that your other best friend and roommate was home.

“Hey Jae.” You heard Jaebum’s husked voice greet from the door and you trembled feeling a soft trace of want reside in your lower belly. Shutting the bathroom door, you turned on the water, letting it steam up the place and get warm. Your mind wandering to Jaebum and how you just wanted to see him. Play in his hair as he gave you those dark gazes. He would make everything better. Just like Youngjae would. You knew both were helpful but the problem was you were feeling both. You had found yourself may nights laying on your bed with your fingers buried deep inside of your pussy as you took turns crying out their names. It was a sinful thing to do yes but you really couldn’t help yourself.

You had all been best friends for so long. Dating back to your kiddie days and then some. They were always sort of home for you, once upon a time you called them brothers until Jae messed around and hugged you with his hands to low on your back. That was the first day you felt something, and you stopped using the term brothers and opted out for the O word instead. Usually you addressed them by names and they gave you shit for it but it was kind of charming watching them fuss and beg for you to address them as your elders. They had both grown up so well, and Jaebum hitting puberty was one of the best things that could have ever happen to him and you. But you knew they had girlfriends or flings, and you had awoken many nights, making a journey to the kitchen only to hear them giggling and watching movies or the soft bang of the headboard against the wall. So, you never admitted your feelings and some days it was hard. You snapped at them for a lot of dumb shit and often stormed off crying leaving them confused and concerned. If they tried to give you advice or help you, sometimes you shut them out like today. But you wanted to leave with them because they were home, and it was easier to pay off things this way.

Sighing softly, you let your towel unwrap from your body and press onto the sink. Moving to pull back the glass backwards you stepped into the shower immediately getting under the hot water that was shooting pellets onto your skin. Groaning softly at the pain you took it so that your muscles could relax and breathe a bit. Mind going blank for a second you dipped your head under the water letting it drench your hair out. Eyes still closed, you blindly reached for the shampoo only to remember you didn’t bring it with you into the shower. Whining rather loudly (it borderline turned into a scream) you were about to step out until you felt the cool liquid being poured on the center of your head from above. Jumping you reached out hands backwards you felt a toned body behind you, Jae’s soft laughter filling up the space.

“I called your name at least three times. How can you say you’re ok when you keep spacing out?” He asked softly moving his hands to lather up the shampoo on your scalp kissing across your shoulder blades. Your insides tightened and you felt your body was burning up and not from the water.

“Jae! Get out!” You tried to push him away embarrassed and covering up your body.

“I’ve seen you naked before kid.” He teased letting his nails scratch lightly against your head stopping half of your protest.

“Ok but I was younger! I was undeveloped.” You tried to reason as he pressed against you.

“Well I guess lucky enough for me, I stayed around to see what the final product was.” He teased with a soft laugh his voice dropping another octave. You were about to go on a tangent and rant but he pressed his hips against yours sighing softly. “Jaebum will you hurry up and get in here, princess is at it again.” He called out, your eyes snapped open to see the glass door slide open before Jaebum was joining you both in the shower that suddenly felt very small now. You opened your mouth gently watching the gorgeous male with his swooped back dark brown hair and silver studs in his ear. He leaned down to press a small kiss against your parted lips that made you even more flustered.

“Don’t do that.” You whispered softly.

“Why not?” He asked tilting his head, the water no longer hitting you, just his back as Youngjae continued to soap your head as if this was the most natural thing to be doing.

“Because.. It’ll give me the wrong impression.. And make me feel things.” You admitted looking down.

Jaebum gripped your chin making your eyes rest on his and you saw a smirk lie on his lips. “Why fight something you want to feel?” He questioned, and seeing your eyes open wide he answered your questions before you could ask them. “We have known for a while now Y/N what you feel for us. You were good at covering it up, but then your gazes started to linger a bit too long. You became too moody to always be on your period and I heard you moan our names before. At first I just heard Jae’s name so I stayed because I was going to go get him. But after a few more minutes I heard a soft call of my name. I was going to tease you more on it, wait it out but today Jae told me about how stressed you were. So, we want to make it better.” His eyes watched you. “So, before you say no think about this. Who knows what will happen after today, if our schedules will keep lining up. We are here now, you want us and we want you. Don’t fight it.” Jaebum whispered moving his hands behind his back because he wouldn’t touch you without permission. But once you gave him a head nod his lips was pressing against yours as he took a kiss from you.

He pulled you close to him tilting you a bit so that the soap from your hair would fall down your body, his hands traveling at your sides, he growled lightly biting on your bottom lip staring down at you. He looked back at Youngjae before he reached behind him to shut off the shower picking you up he tossed you over his shoulder carrying you into your bedroom. Pressing your wet body down on the bed Jaebum crawled between your legs letting your lips connect again. Youngjae stood back for a second watching the hot make-out scene before him. He was a pleasure and not being one for competition he would rather watch you feel good then demand your attention. He was soft, and Jaebum was aggressive. Jaebum kissed down your body towards your pussy spreading your legs wide and pressing them harshly towards the bed. Looking down at him, your body was propped up on your elbows, enjoying the teasing flicks of his tongue. Seeing Jae stand against the wall you couldn’t help but want him and make him feel wanted. You beckoned him towards you with two fingers and he came eagerly crawling on the bed.

“I want to taste you.” You whispered out and gripped at his dick stroking it slowly. Your mouth falling open when Jaebum let his tongue go to work on stretching out your tight pink walls, you wrapped your lips around Jae’s swollen head sucking and licking up his salty precum before hollowing out your cheeks. Bobbing your head up and down you tasted all of him letting your tongue swirl around his shaft slowly.

“You like that baby girl? You like sucking your daddy’s cock off huh, who would have ever thought you were such a dirty little slut.” Jaebum growled moving to slap at your pussy before he was crawling besides Jae, looking down at you he let his dick press into your face as well. “Come on baby girl be good and use that tiny little hand. You can get us both off.” He instructed gripping your hair harshly. Jae was a moaning mess bucking his hips against your mouth, you pressed your hand against Jaebum’s shaft slowly starting to stroke it and match the pace of you sucking onto Jae’s dick. Your mouth stretched out and you tried to give them both pleasure while Jaebum was slapping your ass kneading the flesh.

“Come on my little slut don’t keep teasing. Fucking choke on me already.” Jae grew impatient forcing your head down onto his cock, Jaebum helping by directing you with his grip on your hair. Jae reached his hand over to rub his fingers up and down your wet slit, plunging two inside of you he fucked you fast and hard with them, scissoring and stretching you out he watched you with parted lips and rosy cheeks feeling the slow buildup of his orgasm. He moved back to take himself out of your mouth, switching to move behind you he flipped you on your stomach so that your hands and knees were onto the bed. “Suck off your other daddy while I fuck this pretty pussy nice and hard.” Jae commanded leaning down to bite on your left ass cheek before smacking the flesh.

Jaebum smirked opening your mouth with his fingers he guided his hardened shaft into your mouth groaning at the wet feeling of your tongue on his flesh. You concentrated on making them both feel good, moans spilling from your lips as Youngjae entered you from behind. You rolled your hips backwards onto his dick and he moved his hands watching you. “That’s right baby, show me what this little pussy has got. Yeah you like that? Fuck daddy’s dick.” He pushed you, his hand moving to rub fast at your clit while he watched your hips slam back against his. Your ass jiggling with every thrust you fucked yourself on his cock. Your eyes staring up at Jaebum who was all the while staring back down at you making no other noises besides the silent moans feeling your lips suck on his skin. You took him deeper almost choking as you let his tip brush against the back of your throat. “Faster baby. Fuck that pretty pussy.” Jae groaned out slapping your ass turning it red. You obeyed him letting your hands dig into the sheets as you slammed yourself backwards onto his dick repeatedly feeling your flesh being stretched. Your wet walls wrapping around him you felt him twitch inside of you knowing that he was close you circle and wound your hips doing any and everything that you could until he was pulling out of you gripping harshly at your hips.

Jaebum moved back for a bit stroking his dick, he watched as Youngjae got back on the bed, stroking his dick until he was spilling his white seed into your mouth. You swallowed everything he had greedily, licking around his swollen cock that was now going limp you made sure to clean up the bitter sweet tasting white stuff. Youngjae leaned down to kiss your lips stroking your cheeks softly. Jaebum pulled you back after some time moving to sit down on the bed he looked up at you pressing the tip of his dick against your entrance teasing you as he rubbed it up and down your opening but just not pushing into you yet. “You know what I want.” He said simply, his hands wrapping around your waist until he was hugging you close to his body. His arms trapped your frame against his, nodding your head you reached behind you grabbing at his dick, letting it rub up and down your dripping center a bit more, you soon were sliding down on him taking him inch by inch until you were hissing at the stretch of his dick in your pussy. He moaned rolling his head back his body completely engrossed in the pleasure of being inside of your wet pussy. You let your hands move to press on the top of his shoulders slowly moving yourself up and down onto his shaft. Your hips snapped against his but he didn’t speed you up nor slow you down just let you take him inch by inch. His hands moved to grip at your ass cheeks slapping them he kneaded and played with them while he leaned down to suck on your left nipple. Youngjae joining on his other side he took the liberty of pressing his plump lips against your right nipple adding pleasure to your body.

Your hips started to move faster, your hands moving behind you to rest on his knees you leaned back some to slam your hips down against Jaebum’s letting them both see how well you took his dick inside of you the wet lewd noises bouncing off the room walls. It felt so good to finally have him inside of you, after all these years of longing and wanting here you were enjoying the both of them. Youngjae reached down to rub his hand against your throbbing pink clit adding to the pleasure of your erratic hips. “Are you going to be my good slut and cum for daddy? I know you want to. I know you want to paint my dick with your wet juices. You’re my good girl, right?” He asked gripping at your hair making you look in his eyes.

“Yes, I’m your good girl daddy.” You whimpered out knitting your eyebrows together, his hips rolling up a bit to meet your thrust Jaebum gave a wild smirk groaning out your name.

“Then show me how fucking good you are and cum all over my dick.” He commanded you as Youngjae’s fingers moved faster against you. Giving in you nodded your head, rolling it backwards to cry out Jaebum’s name first and then Youngjae’s you came hard on his shaft, following the instant feeling of his cum burying himself inside of you. Your hips slowed down to ride out your orgasms, stopping completely after sometime you leaned up to press kisses against his lips.

Out of the blue Youngjae was pulling you off of Jaebum’s dick pressing your face down into the mattress slapping your ass. “Well since you moaned his name first. Let’s see if we can change it this time shall we?”

Shepard Headcanon incoming

Shepard gets a lot of shit in ME1 for her alien squadmates. I can see her walking up to Garrus before her Spectre induction and just telling him “I may do something stupid, just follow my lead.” and that’s it. And he stares at her blankly and inevitably gives in once she flashes an evil grin because he knows it’s going to be a total clusterfuck of chaos and entertainment and he’s down to stir the pot.

Shepard gets sworn in and steps out into the Presidium, greeted with swarms of cameras and obnoxious reporters. Kaidan is fending off waves of them like husks as Garrus does the same on the opposite side. They are halfway down the steps, headed towards the skycar when she’s bombarded with questions about her crew of misfits. “How does it feel to be forced to work with so many aliens?” one calls out above the rest, making Shepards neck flash hot with anger.“Forced?” she says cooly, mustering all her media etiquette into one word as she grabs her Turian squadmate by the cowl and drags him in for a long, languid kiss. The crowd gasps, a wave of silence as Shepard can barely keep herself from smiling through it.

“I would never say forced.”

Under the Table [Rick Grimes x Reader]

Can you do an imagine where the reader and Rick are at a dinner party in Alexandria and the reader is wearing a dress that makes her hot and making Rick wanting her really bad? Smut please? Thanks! xx

Hope you enjoy anon! 

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving)

Words: 1,522

Keep reading

19 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me Before I Turned 20 so I Didn’t Waste a Decade:

 a list poem for working-class  girls trying to grow up and into themselves

1. It is okay to leave anyone and anything and anyplace that makes you feel like shit.  It’s hard, but it’s okay.  And fuck explaining anything to anyone, unless you want to.  Let them fucking wonder.

 2. Know who the fuck you are.  Not just on some touchy-feely fuzzy pretty-on-the-inside tip, but knowing who you are racially, culturally, in relationship to your sexuality, gender and your class- is a source of your power.  You define that for you.   Don’t ever let anyone else tell you who you are.  This may change in time, as you grow and learn more.  That’s okay.  Manage any shame or guilt you may feel through acts of accountability.

 3.  Be accountable for what you do.  This means owning up to how you fuck up, just as much as it means owning and defending the contested space you fill.  You will fuck up, and only you can seek atonement for this.  You will need to defend yourself, and rarely will anyone do that work for you.  Acknowledging both your mistakes and your rights is equally important.

 4. They will call you crazy.  You are a woman.  There is no way of going through the world in the moment we live in and not get called crazy by someone, often someone you wish would see you as deeply sane.  You are not crazy.  The world is fucking crazy.  If you are affected by this imbalanced, unjust world, it only proves that you are a sentient being with some sense of empathy.

 5. Empathy is built.  You need to learn to really listen.  This means listening without thinking about how it relates to you, or planning the next thing you are going to say.  This means seeing everyone, regardless of who they are, as a human being.  You cannot really be a human being unless you regard everyone as such, even your greatest nemeses and the gravest perpetrators.  All of our damage comes from somewhere.  Yours and everyone else’s.  Learn to listen to others.  Learn to listen to yourself.  Empathy cannot exist without really, deeply listening first.

 6. You are going to have moments of unbearable pain.  It takes time to learn how to heal yourself.  And healing sometimes still leaves scars.  Healing is sometimes incomplete.  Think of your scars as battle-wounds – evidence of how much wiser you are now- maps of where not to return.  Cherish these scars and honor them.  There will come times when they are the only reminder of where you have been, and how much you still need to grow.

 7. You are going to have moments of unbearable loneliness.  You need to learn how to love being with yourself, because ultimately, no one has the potential to love you like you can.  It is beautiful to love and be loved, but these are just hints as to how to regard yourself.  If you regard yourself highly, and learn to turn loneliness into soothing solitude, you will be capable of giving and receiving truly transformative love.

 8. Find something that makes you feel like the world makes sense, even if you can’t justify it intellectually to yourself or anyone else.  Personally, if I don’t rock a wall, get up, get laid, get down on a dancefloor, read a good book, write a poem, listen to a mind-blowing record or have a soul-shaking, satisfying conversation at least once a week, the world doesn’t make sense to me and I am unmoored.  If I don’t get these things for a month, I become a total, inconsolable, incomprehensible wreck.  This wreck can easily snowball into all kinds of self-destruction.  Find what works for you and be loyal to it as a loyalty to yourself.

 9. The world you live in is sick.  This sickness creeps into all of us, and in many it manifests as an inability to love oneself, let alone others.  Some of those afflicted with a parasitic strain of this illness will latch onto you as a host.  You may believe it is part of your nature to nurture and support endlessly.  These people will eat your love whole, and you with it, and leave you as a husk.  You can grow again from your husk, but it will be hard, and it takes time and the training of betrayal and heartbreak to learn to trust yourself enough to determine who is worthy of your trust.  Do not let anyone ride you.  Only walk with those who will walk side by side with you, as an equal.

 10. Do not fuck with lovers that don’t prioritize your pleasure.  That can look like a lot of different things, and you’re probably still figuring it out.  Don’t put up with lovers that don’t give you room to explore, to express, and above all – if a lover is only focused on using you as a vessel to reach their plateau –be out.  This doesn’t mean to ignore your partner’s pleasure, but rather to see yours as of equal worth.

 11.  You are not responsible for the actions of those who hated themselves so much that they hurt you on purpose.

 12. Collectivism is a beautiful concept, and something worth constantly striving toward and building.  Collectivism has radically changed and challenged unjust structures and institutions.  But if you sacrifice your own survival for the benefit of the whole, you will find yourself wringing your hands and questioning the meaning of your life and doubting the worth of others in light of their unabashed self-interest.  Find a balance.

 13.  Do not carry broken people who are not in the process of rebuilding themselves.

 14. You are not your job.  Your job is simply a paycheck, and you are probably not compensated what you are worth and it is not your fucking fault- you inherited a broken economic system, and you will not be the first generation to fight for your right to live.  But you need to fucking fight for your right to live, in solidarity, with those around you who are also struggling.

 15.  Going to college is an accomplishment.  It does not, however, make you better than anyone else.  It doesn’t make you essentially more intelligent.  You never really make it “out” of the class you came from, and you never really make it “in” to the class you aspired to.

 16.  If you cannot translate what you have learned from whatever access you’ve had back to wherever you came from, then you have not gained anything- you have changed.  Assimilation is a choice.  Seek to be a translator.  Seek to share your access to those who you may have left behind.  Seek to disrupt the structures that taught those of us who gained more access that we are worth more than where we left, and less than what we found ourselves among.

17. Never take validation too deeply to heart.  This is especially true of those who came up entrenched in the age of social media.  The gaze of hegemony is always on us.  Find validation in the ratio between how positively you impact yourself and others versus how you fuck up and hurt others.  You will hurt others.  Be accountable for this, when you need to be, and always be mindful of how often that happens in relation to those you help grow.  None of us can be saints, but we can be salient and sentient.

 18. Take your struggle to your community, and find community in those whose struggles intersect.  It is only within one another that we will make any sense of this destroyed world and it’s corrupt ideology that we’ve inherited.  Fight.  Fight.  Fight.

 19.  You are inherently valuable.  You have worth.  Ask no one for permission for this.

anonymous asked:

This will probably be a little different than the usual requests you get. I'd like to see reacts of the RFAs + Saeran when MC wants a break up.


-You brought it up after dinner, while the two of you were working together to wash dishes.
-He didn’t know how he managed not to drop the dish he was drying.
-You were being so casual about it. It almost scared him.
-He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice to sound just as calm.
-“M-May I ask why?”
-“I’ve realized I value you more as a friend than a partner.”
-He just nodded, not saying a word. He didn’t know how to react. Everything felt like he was walking through static- His head felt numb as his heart slammed against his chest.
-The two of you finished washing dishes. You grabbed your purse, kissed him on the cheek and told him you loved him, and you walked out.
-He just slowly got ready for bed. He slipped on his PJs, threw on his hoodie for good measure, and climbed into bed.
-That’s when it hit him. Your smell still lingered on his hoodie, his pillow, his whole damn bed. Hell, he was pretty sure he smelled like you too.
-He gripped his pillow tight and ended up quietly sobbing into it most of the night.
-He stayed off the RFA chat for a few days. He even stopped playing LOLOL for a while because of this. He just couldn’t focus on anything. Just was a husk until Seven managed to come over and help him through it.

-He’d just gotten done rehearsing for the day, and he was so excited to come over and hang out with you!
-He went ahead and pulled out his phone, leaning against his bike, giving you a heads up.
-“Hey, babe! I just got out for the day. We finished a bit early! You still on for today?”
-“Hey, Uhm. Not really.”
-“Oh, did something come up?”
-“Yeah, a bit. Uhm… Zen. I want to end things. With you.”
-He let out a nervous laugh, but when you didn’t laugh back, he felt his stomach churn.
-“You’re being serious?”
-“Yeah… I’m sorry, Zen.”
-He was quiet for a while, and before anything else could be said he ended the call and cut off his phone.
-He teared up a bit, but since he was still outside of the theatre, he just took a deep breath, climbed on his bike, and drove.
-He ended up driving for a while, just thinking about all of the reasons you could have wanted to end things. The rude comments his fans made once in a while? The idea of being known outside your friend circle? God, did he do something? Did he do nothing?
-He wanted to ask you a million questions, but instead he just went to his secret spot and smoked until 3 am.

-You brought it up one morning, while rejecting a morning cuddle session.
-He sat upright in a jolt, confused completely.
-Unlike the others, he did ask you several questions. Why? When did you decide this? Were you feeling unwell? Is it not something to be discussed? Was he not good enough?
-As you slipped into your day clothes, you gave him short answers, not looking at him.
-“Jumin, I just don’t love you anymore. Can you please just have someone drop off my things at my place? You can keep what you bought me.”
-He felt the threads that used to bother him suddenly squeeze him tightly, barely even allowing him to breathe.
-“Right. I’ll… Send someone to do that. Right.”
-He didn’t even go to work that day. He tried, but he just couldn’t focus on anything.
-It was hard to breathe, hard to talk, hard to move. Everything he did felt like it took every bit of energy from him, no matter how small the task was.
-Even Elizabeth 3rd wasn’t helping him.
-He stayed away from the chat, ignored all the phone calls, ignored Jaehee.
-Sometimes, once in a blue moon, he’d try to call you after drinking too much wine, but he’d always hang up before you could answer.

-She felt like her world was falling apart.
-Her first friend, her first business, her first long bout of happiness- All of it ended in a flash.
-You handed in your resignation, her shock making her need to close the cafe for a few days as you packed up your things. As you finished off any employee notes. As you left her.
-As you did this, once in a while you’d walk into her crying- But she quickly sucked it up and acted like nothing was wrong.
-Sending your last paychecks hurt her. She didn’t want to stop giving you any. She didn’t want to fill your position.
-She reverted back to the old C&R Jaehee. Completely focused on work and the slight Zen DVD. Even the DVDs were hard for her to take joy in. Her fondest memories were watching them with you.
-The Cafe wasn’t doing well without you, no matter how hard she worked. She was doing the work of two people. Sure, she used to do this before, but now it seemed harder, like there was a mental block.
-After a while, she would consider selling the cafe and go back to working for Jumin again. Anything to get rid of the barrier in her head. Anything to stop thinking about you.

-It hurt him so much. God, he couldn’t even compare it to missions where he had been fucking stabbed before.
-It hurt because it was his fault.
-You stood at the door, a few bags in hand, almost emotionless.
-Angry? Sad? Done? Done was the only way to describe how you were. What aura you had.
-He ended up hugging your knees, sobbing against your thighs, chanting a mantra of “Please” and “Don’t go”.
-He would change! He’d stop having those anger spells! Those days of pushing you away! Of saying he didn’t need you!
-He was just so so scared. You were the only one who made him feel worth anything. Who made him feel like he deserved to live.
-You ended up breaking down. He hurt you so much, he just wanted to pretend this never happened. Take you to space, let him hold you and never let go.
-But you pried his arms off and left, and he broke.
-He stayed in his room, he sold a few of his cars, he tried to get someone to track him down and hurt him. He deserved it, he deserved feeling nothing but pain, right? That’s what he did to you, wasn’t it?
-But he never could do it. He was too scared they’d try to track you down first, and he had hurt you enough already.

-You brought it up one night after an argument about something ridiculous. He even realized it was dumb and said he was sorry. But you realized you just didn’t have it in you anymore.
-He had his off days, he would admit that, and damn he was doing so much better than he was
-But it was so emotionally draining on you. You ended up being more stressed than when there was a bomb set to go off near you.
-So you ended it. Said you couldn’t do it anymore. You cried and he just stood there, silently crying along.
-He never felt so weak in his life.
-The one person that loved him, that wasn’t family, that loved him at his worst, couldn’t bare to stick along any longer.
-It hurt the most because he knew it made sense. He knew you needed to be okay and happy too.
-He begged you for one last hug before you went, and ended up not being able to let go for ten minutes.
-You couldn’t either.
-You said maybe, just maybe, if he was better in the future, the two of you could get back together
-He agreed, but he knew by then you would find someone who could treat you better.
-When you left, he actually ended up having to hug his brother for a while and just sob.
-Why did he have to have this life? What did he do to deserve this?
-The only bright side is that this brought him closer to his brother, and he was at least happy for that connection.

Requests are open!

Break Time

Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Reader (Human) x Stiles Stilinski
Words: 1,055
Warnings: mild mentions of smut, if you want to include play fighting that can be a warning :)
Request? yes or no
A/N: here it is! this one was from Prompt List 1. it is the third prompt  “Quit It, Or I’ll Bite You” of course the prompt has been BOLDED so you know where the lines come in. hope you all enjoy! 

Keep reading

Let Me Warm Your Heart Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Word count: 3040

Summary: Being rescued by a kind woman has loads of benefits. She cleans your wounds, cares for you and you get a glimpse in her life. Is this the beginning of that fleeting feeling called ‘love’?

Disclaimer: I don’t own the FBAWTFT, JKR does. If I did, my boi Credence would have the mushiest happiest ending ever. GIF Credits to the owners. That cute face though!! 😍

Warnings: Mentions of blood, abuse, loads of fluff

It was normally a short walk from the sushi shop till Y/N’s apartment. The upside was the confectionery on the corner. Having a sweet tooth, she was wise enough to keep her candy stash refiller close. Its windows were usually pristine and the door was always open. Through these, wafted the heavenly smell of freshly baked bread or melting chocolate, which the baker used in abundance in a variety of goods. That evening she was walking back home, just about to turn the corner of a road filled with closed shops. They looked like dark, empty husks left by their occupants for the day, she thought, especially the eerie mannequins wearing the flapper dresses. Y/N was wondering whether one would look good on her when she heard the sounds of a scuffle. 

“What ya boys say we beat some sense inta him?” It was probably the drunkards that frequented the playground she thought. They were usually up to no good. Not wanting to get involved but curious nonetheless, Y/N crept up the pavement and cocked her head to the side, hiding behind the barely there, crumbling excuse of a wall surrounding the derelict playground. The scene made her draw in a sharp intake of breath. Whimpering in the clutches of one of the drunk hooligans was none other Credence. Putting her Auror reflexes to use, she gave out a shrill siren-like whistle and a quick Sonorus charm did the trick. “Shit. Why’s the police here?” one of them muttered before they shoved poor Credence to the ground and made a run for it.

Making sure that the hoodlums were completely out of sight, Y/N approached the shivering boy lying on the ground. She muttered Quietus, stopped whistling and waved her wand once, charming the area to make it seem empty so that no one accidentally stumbled upon them. She stowed her wand in its holster and approached the quivering boy. “Are you alright?” She asked in the gentlest voice she could manage, trying to pull his writhing form upright. But scared to his wits end the boy seemed to have gone into a panic attack. No amount of coaxing and cajoling was making it through to him. Taking his face in her hands, Y/N stared into his chocolate brown eyes for a few seconds making sure that she had his undivided attention. “It’s okay love, they are gone. You are safe now. Nothing will harm you…I won’t let anything harm you!” on hearing this, awareness dawned in his eyes. 

At least that was what she assumed when he gave a muffled sob and threw himself in her arms. Slightly taken aback by the sudden action, Y/N just whispered soothingly until Credence calmed down. Realizing that the people threatening him were long gone, he sagged in relief, his whole body turning limp in her hands. He sniffled quietly in the crook of her shoulder, his tears leaving a wet patch on her cloak. Credence idly thought that the woman smelled wonderful, like freshly mowed grass, coffee grounds, peppermint and a hint of something flowery. His fingers, which had been clutching tightly to the fabric of her cloak loosened their grip and withdrawing from her embrace, he blushed and gave her a small nod. “Thank you….for saving me and…sorry for….” at this point, he merely pointed to her cloak which was streaked with blood from where his fingers had gripped her.

Y/N’s eyes widened and Credence prepared himself to be admonished for ruining her clothes. But instead, she took his hands in hers and gasped audibly. “I am so sorry. If I had realised that they were harming you, I would have done something faster.” He looked at her with a puzzled gaze and she couldn’t help but think that he looked adorable. Puffy eyes which had turned red from the crying, a tear-stained face streaked with patches of blood when he had wiped his face, a pale face and mussed up hair. If you could ignore the obvious signs of being beaten, he almost looked like he had woken up and couldn’t get a bearing on his surroundings. Pulling him up with the tenderness of a mother with her newborn, Y/N spied the abandoned bag of food that she had left at the side walk when she saw the drunkards about to beat him up. She bent down to pick it up and said, “Let’s get your wounds bandaged.”

This was easier said than done. Credence had been reluctant to go to her house. “It’s getting late. My Ma…she will worry.” Detecting the notes of hesitation in his voice at the mention of his mother and not one to accept such feeble excuses, Y/N had said, “It won’t take long. I live just 5 minutes away. Come on, we need to stop that bleeding.” With this they had found themselves tiptoeing up the staircase and entering the apartment silently like fugitives. All this was a necessary precaution against complaining neighbours, she had said. God knew what kind of a fuss Mr Smith would create if he knew she brought ‘roughened up, good for nothing men’ to her house (his words not her’s). At this point her visitor had opened his mouth probably to turn down her help again but she had silenced him saying, “I’ll get the medical supplies. Just make yourself comfortable, okay?” Settling Credence onto the sofa, she entered the kitchen and retrieved the first aid kit from the nearest cabinet.

She unwrapped the gauze, cotton swabs and bandages, glanced over her shoulder to ensure that he was still in his place and took out her wand. It would do no good to either him or her if it was found out that she was a witch. For her because she would lose her job but majorly for Credence, because he was the eldest son of an anti-witchcraft zealot and it would be ironical if it were found out that he was rescued and helped by a witch. That didn’t stop Y/N from bewitching the medical supplies to heal his wounds faster though. Maybe she could even convince him to take a potion for minor abrations, she had a bottled version ready for times when she was posted on field cases. She filled a bowl with water, took some wash cloths and with the slightly magically modified medi-kit in tow, she entered the room again to find him staring at the photos adorning her wall.

Hearing her enter, Credence whipped his head to look at her and held up his battered hands as if non-verbally praying his innocence. “I am so-sorry. I was just looking. I d-d-didn’t touch anything I s-swear.” She frowned at his sudden frightened demeanour and said, “You don’t need to apologize, I’m not angry. I did say you could be comfortable. You can have a look around if you want.” Approaching him, she set the medi-kit and the bowl on the nearby coffee table and stared at the photograph that he had been staring at before her arrival. He looked at her once again with a confused expression. “If…if you don’t mind me asking, who…who’s that?” he timidly pointed at a picture of a family of three. A pig-tailed girl of no more than 6 years sat on a man’s shoulders, grinning ear to ear with a flower crown atop her head. A woman kissed the man’s cheek and held the girl’s hand while the man, presumably gave a huge belly laugh.

Fondness washed her features as she looked at the photograph. “They are my parents, that beautiful woman is my mom and the man laughing so raucously, looking like a happy lunatic, is my father”, Credence looked at her face but she had said it more out of warmth than with malice. “And that’s me seated on my father’s shoulders, pretending that I was the Queen and they my humble servants. I remember mother saying something on the lines of, “Well, a Queen needs a crown” and made that for me.“ She pointed at the tiny flower tiara and brushed the black and white picture lightly, as if wiping away non-existent dust.

Y/N seemed to be reliving that day of so many years past and he couldn’t help but feel the nostalgia colouring the room with something akin to love. “They look like nice people”, he said softly, breaking Y/N from her reverie. “They were.” She replied, looking back at him with a smile crinkling her features. But the smile seemed just a touch distant, hinting more of sadness than joy. He noted the past tense but didn’t pry further, it wasn’t his place. “Alright. We have to get your hands healed, take a seat.” Doing as he was told, Credence sat at the edge of the sofa. Y/N opened up the medi-kit and set out a roll of bandages, a bottle of some clear liquid and an ointment, before taking a seat beside him. She took his hands in her’s again and said, “I’m going to clean the dried up blood from your wounds. I’ll try to be careful but it might hurt just a smidge.“ 

He was thankful that she was being so thoughtful and gentle with him. She drenched the wash cloth in the bowl and painstakingly cleaned his hands. Sitting stock still so as not to impede her, Credence didn’t dare utter a word of discomfort. He was used to beatings much worse than this. Being treated so kindly was what he was unused to. He took in her form, gently tending to him, oblivious to his staring or the effect that she had on him. Her lashes, long as they were, brushed her cheeks everytime she blinked. Her touch was cool and gentle, holding his hands delicately, as if made from the softest of feathers. She absentmindedly brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen out of its place in her braid and he noticed for the first time how shiny her hair was. Being in such close quarters with her made Credence hyper aware of her ethereal beauty.

He couldn’t help but feel the tightness in his chest return, but this restricting feeling was different from the one he felt while in the playground. While that had felt as if he was about to explode like a pressurized cannon, this felt as if a mass of frothy bubbles had filled up his insides and where bursting to be released. “This might sting a bit”, she said again as she took a fresh cloth and dipped some of the liquid in the bottle onto it. It did cause him a bit of discomfort but he remained silent through it. It was the least he could do for her. “I think the wounds are cleaned up, all that remains is…” She trailed off, looking at his hands first and then fixing her sharp gaze on him. Credence looked down at what she had seen and shifted restlessly. The dried up blood had given his hands the illusion of being scar-free. And lost in his observation of her, for a moment, he had felt scarless too, both physically and emotionally.

Brought back to earth and it’s harsh realities, he said, “It’s okay. You ….have done so much… for me. I could bandage them…later.” He looked anywhere and everywhere but her, as if the mere sight of her would break this seemingly dreamlike state that he found himself in. If he met her eyes, she would know. She would know the truth. The truth about him, his Ma, his beatings, his tainted blood and all the things that were wrong with him. She would be repulsed at the mere sight of him and look at him with disgust just like Ma was. And then, she would have nothing to do with him. But Y/N surprised him once again. She took his hands and rubbing some of the cooling ointment on his hands, bandaged them carefully. She seemed angry but at what Credence didn’t understand. Had he said something to upset her?

“You don’t need to hide it. I can see what she has done, I’m assuming it is her by the way you react to her…” she whispered, but her voice carried to him in the stillness of the air. She brushed her hands on his palms, feeling the puckered skin which was marked in shades of red. A dull white in places where the old ones had healed and scarred, a raw red at the places where the fall had torn the skin again. Brownish bruises covered his fingers. Her flawless hands seemed almost otherworldly next to his and Credence was overcome by the urge to withdraw his hands and run away from this unreal sanctuary. “Don’t…don’t feel ashamed!” Her voice quivered and Credence looked at her again. Y/N’s face was flushed from the anger which quaked her voice and he felt touched. Nobody had ever cared for him so much. Not enough to heal him the way she did, not even to get angry over something like old scars and half healed palms. 

“You don’t need to worry. It’s alright…I…I deserved this…” He spoke carefully, trying to calm her anger and assuage her worries. She stared up at him defiantly and said, “Never for a moment should you ever think that you deserve this! You deserve kindness and love! Not beatings and pain and…not this… definitely not this….!” she trailed off, setting aside the bandages and looking at his hands again. She was more upset that he had thought and he couldn’t think of a way to comfort her. Credence berated himself mentally. He caused nothing but harm and problems for those who cared for him. It would have just been better if he had not come here.

He felt his hands being warmed by her touch and the pain seemed to abate a bit. Closing his eyes and dislodging the morose thoughts from his mind he said, “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt…much.” He shrugged as he looked at her again. "It shouldn’t hurt at all.“ She replied firmly, resuming to bandage his hands and tidying up his bruises. After she was done with his hands, Y/N stared up at him and asked. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Credence shook his head no. He felt an odd lightness in his being. As if he was floating in the air. “I should get going. It’s getting late…” he didn’t want to leave, this place that was the closed thing to an oasis in the desert of his life. “Wait”, she observed his face for a moment and wringed the wash cloth, motioning for him to come closer. He just stared at her, wondering what she meant. “Your face. It has a bit of blood on it. Let me wipe it off.”

If he had been frozen before, Credence became a statue carved out of stone now. There he was, sitting in the close proximity of this goddess of a being, wondering what good deeds he had done in his past life to have received this blessing. He would get beaten up a thousand times if it meant that she would be the one who took care of him like this. Slapping himself mentally for thinking of such impure thoughts, he continued staring at her as she grasped his chin with one hand and rubbed his cheek with the other. A look of intense concentration was on her face, her tongue poking out slightly as she wiped the stains away. Credence couldn’t help the blush that warmed his cheeks and dusted his face. He could feel her breath fanning his face and if he were to die this moment, he would die a peaceful death. 

Too soon the contact was over and he felt a mixture of disappointment and elation wash over him. Disappointment at the loss of the close contact and elation that it had happened in the first place. Y/N continued staring at him though and Credence couldn’t look away, trapped by the intensity of her gaze. He felt something shift in him as her eyes held his attention. It was almost as if the very air around them had changed, charged with an unknown energy. In those seconds of staring in the Y/E/C pools of Y/N’s eyes, he thought that something was about to happen. But she blinked and the moment was lost. She asked in a whisper, “You won’t stay if I ask you to, will you?” He shook his head no. “I can’t. Ma ….and my sisters will be waiting.” The implication of his words was clear. If he did not return home soon, his sister’s would suffer in his stead. 

Huffing an exasperated sigh she retreated back to the kitchen, to keep the supplies back in their place. “And I also had some nice sushi rolls today…” she knew he would still refuse but it was worth trying. Merlin, what had gotten into her?! He gave another shake of his head and said, “I must go….” He got up from the sofa and stared at her as she reentered the room to see him off. “Alright. Are you sure you can go back safely?” He nodded once in acquiescence. He fumbled a bit, unsure of what to do, as if wanting to say something but couldn’t find the words to do. He looked at her again and drawing confidence said, “Credence.” Y/N blinked once. Twice.

“It’s my name. Thank you for…saving me and helping me patch up”, he gave her a small smile. It was the smile that did it she thought. Just as he was about to leave, she spoke up, “Credence?” He halted immediately, looking at her curiously. “Y/N.” He looked at her for a moment before repeating it, “Y-Y/N.” Her name rolled off his tongue in a weirdly comforting manner. The exchange of names made something surge in Credence’s heart, something fluffy and full of warmth. It was as if the earlier bubbles had burst inside him and filled him with a joy so intense that he could hardly breathe. As he softly closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but think, maybe this feeling was what they called ‘love’?

A/N: Holy smokes. 3000+ words. It was a race against time to finish this. Fluff is really not something that I’m used to writing. So I have mixed feelings about this one. Let me know how you felt this one was. Hope you like it! Excuse any typos. Also shout out to the fantastic @imaginingcredence whose Credence head cannons helped me survive a writer’s block. They are amazing!! ~mystical reading nerd

I’m Going to Hurt You

Request: “Hey there!! Idk if you do Harry Potter requests, but if you do, could I request a young!Remus x reader imagine based off of the song “already gone” covered by sleeping at last, except with a happy fluffy ending? Thanks!!”

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Word Count: 2008

Warnings: ANGSTTTTT and violence n stuff

A/n: First time ever writing for this character, so I hope I did okay!

Remember all the things we wanted
Now all the memories they’re haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye
Even with our face held high
It never would have worked out right
We were never meant for do or die

“We’ll always be together, right?” You asked softly.

Your head was in Remus’ lap, a billowing willow floated above as a gentle breeze sifted through the warm summer air. He was playing with your hair, looking down upon you with a loving gaze.

“You know I can’t promise that.” He whispered sadly, turning his head to look away now. “I can’t imagine you living a long and happy life if it were by my side.”

You sat up, bringing your knees up to your chest. Your head hung to the side, a pondering look spreading through your features. You flicked your eyes down to his hands, taking his in your own, your thumb running over the white lines and deep markings.

“I’m never going to leave you.” You spoke, a solemn tone laced within your statement. “You can’t make me.”

“But I can leave you.” He sighed, pulling you towards his chest. “It’s only a matter of time before something happens. I’ll do something that puts your safety at risk, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

Silent tears now fell from your face, being soaked into Remus’ school tie. You knew he was right, but you wouldn’t admit it out loud. There would come a day that Remus would leave you, for your own safety. He didn’t want his condition to be the downfall of the love of his life, and so, when the time came he prayed he would be strong enough to do the right thing. To let you go.  

Keep reading

He’s a ghost wrapped up in peeling skin
A walking void masquerading as human.
Veins of air channel darkness instead of blood;
Holes, not eyes, are windows to the space where his soul ought to reside
But he is empty, empty, empty,
A hollowed-out husk wearing a facade of humanity
Dancing an endless, macabre mockery of what it is to be alive.
—  EMJ // Null And Void

request ; request ; can u do 457 with oak? it seems v angsty sooo :) thank u so much !

#457: “You told me you wanted to let go. That night… I was coming over to try and fix things.”

requested by anonymous

pairing ; oak x reader

summary ; some relationships, as wanted as they may be, are simply not meant to be.

words ; 1934

warnings ; lost relationships; angst.

note ; finally figured out a semi nice plot line for this request, so i hope you like it!


paris \ ‘pa-rǝs\ n

  • a sentimental yearning for a reality that isn’t genuine.
  • an irrecoverable condition for fantasy that evokes nostalgia or daydreams

You sighed out, looking up at the ceiling of your bedroom. You could feel the bass of the song playing through your speaker, the same song that had been playing on repeat for a while now. The same song you and… him would sing together, dancing around the kitchen and then kissing near the end.

It was the same song that had the definition of paris, something made up, but something you were living through. You had the feeling of dread, the feeling of being empty. You wanted nothing more than turn around and see him lying there, underneath the covers and reading a book, smiling softly at you once he noticed your staring.

He was always a gentle soul, even if he didn’t look it. His skin was dark, and his build was rather muscular, his height also added to the “intimidation bundle” as you’d called it. But he wasn’t as mean as he looked. He gave the warmest hugs, his chest was always an amazing pillow, his arms held you close to his chest when you’d sleep together.

He always wanted happiness for you. He hated knowing you were sad, he hated knowing that he probably had something to do with it.

It didn’t matter now, though. Nothing mattered ─ it was all in the past. He was gone, out of your life, no longer in the picture, no longer apart of the narrative.

But if that was true, why the hell were you still thinking about him? Why did your heart still yearn for him? Why did you still want to see him in your bed when you woke up in the morning? Why did you still want to kiss his lips, his cheeks, his nose still? Why was he still just as big a part of your life as he was when you were still together?

He shouldn’t be, you swore to yourself. We’re over, and I should be okay with that. He wanted to end it and I’m… I’m okay with that.

Maybe some things just weren’t meant to be, right? That’s the answer to your questions; you still thought about him because things weren’t meant to be and your heart refused to comprehend that fact. Yeah, that’s what it was.

You were not still in love with Okieriete Onaodowan. No. You were not and you would never be in love with him again.

Sitting up, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

The memory of that night came crashing into your mind like a wrecked freight train.

“You can’t blame this on me, Oak! It’s not my goddamn fault!”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘it’s not my fault’!? You were the one that caused it!”

Keep reading

My Waters Below My Hills.


Give up your waters woman, become but a husk so that you are remade from your dust. 

When I was little, I had a series of spells that would plague me at night. I would choke on my own breathe, until it felt like my body has closed itself up to world around me. Usually happening between the moments when I was just about to wake up from sleep, my body would seize as if I was stuck on the threshold of dreaming and waking. 

Here I would have visions as my eyes welled up with tears and my mouth opened in silent gasps, screaming out for the deaths that are yet to come in my family. Until my parents would come rushing through the doors, and I would gulp down honey water to choke me awake with the sudden sweetness. 

The sensation of losing your breath is as if you are becoming nothing, swimming through nothing, seeing nothing. Slowly.

When I was very little, I almost died. One of my lungs collapsed at night while I was sleeping, and liquid began to fill my throat till I could barely gulp down air. My mother heard me gasping in my cradle beside her bed, and rushed me to the Emergency Room.

Last night, I couldn’t stop drinking water and then expelling my waters until the flow became crystal clear. There came a knowing in my body that it was time for another passage into the world below and back. I filled my copper basin that have collected the ashes of my ceremonies for the past months with cold water from the tap, and sitting it in a triangle of wooden staves, floated a white candle in its depths. 

My body heats, and morphs, and changes as my skin transforms serpentine, grow scales, wings of white feathers sprouting from my back, my breathing becomes none existent and this time I let it. For I know it is the mothers sitting with me.

I fall asleep to the light of my white candle, my fetch swimming through the oceans in my soul, waiting for the dream to come, to incubate as so many of us have done in temples and cells and caves and arbours in all the days before and after us. 

You may see yourself swimming down a lake or well. You will see yourself pass through more layers or doors than you have ever thought possible, usually involving an increasing sense of claustrophobia or pressure as you get deeper and deeper. Eventually you will find yourself very close to the heart of the spiral, the ‘eye of the storm’ where things are weaved and unweaved. You will need to pass through and to do so you will need to be able to let go of everything of you that is mortal. You will also be stripped of the illusion of ‘up’ and ‘down’ and come to realize that in travelling ‘down to the bottom’ you have also reached the height of heights and are now in the stars.

- Lee Morgan’s A Deed Without A Name, page 133, from the chapter “The Water Below The Hills”.

As I woke up in the world of sleeping, I found myself inside the houses of my mothers. First I was in a small cottage by the Bayous of Louisiana, Maria making gumbo and fish head stew with black bread. The scent of her spices fill the tiny house with memories I didn’t know I had. She sprinkles a powder into my bowl of stew and whispers a prayer I can’t hear. “Time to meet your maker”, she says to me, and I think it’s my time to die. 

“Not like that baby”, she responds, “You got more than one maker”.

I take the bowl into my hands, and as I take my first dip and bit, the scenes around me shift. 

Now I am on the banks of a river, the earth yellow with minerals and nutrients rubbing warm dust beneath me. Around me are tents filled with women, they point to the rushing waters crashing against the jagged rocks, and tell me to get closer or I’ll never swim to shore. The bitter waters splash against my face, tasting of green things and ash. I am stripped down into my scales and fins, and dipping into the waters, my vision goes black. 

When I can see again, I am in my middle school classroom in China. Before me is stretched rolls and rolls of paper, and I am spending an eternity writing out line after line. My middle school teacher, stern, manipulative, who in one breath can weep in front our parents for our supposed failures and then scream and hit us with her ruler behind their backs, stood looming over me. I pick up my pen, and begin to write as I always have in the past, never stopping until the alarm clock wakes me up from my slumber.

Time to meet your maker baby.

Is she my maker? I wonder to myself, this woman who was my mother for most days when my own mother left me there in that institution each morning, and came to pick me up late at night. Was she my maker? This stern, cruel woman who’s images blurs with that of my mother’s, with that of the many teachers before her who attempted to drill into my head a mother tongue I was suppose to know but could never quiet get the handle of. I feel my arms and run my hands over the cruel lines left behind by her stings and pinches and slaps and wrenching. 

I look at the rough, thin paper under my hands, my pen scratching out symbols and characters I can no longer remember the meanings of. 

No sun shone through the windows, everything was dark except for that single fluorescent light that shone above our heads. 

Her shadow creeps through every corner of the wall, running against the lines of chalkboards that surround us, imposing their dark shadows against my body.

All those years of repetition, of stolen consent, of silenced voices. I did something I didn’t know I could do, and had never done in previous dreams like the one I am having now, in that claustrophobic classroom with that imposing teacher. 

I put down my pen, I walk up to her, I look her in the eye, and I say, firmly, quietly, “no”.

And I walk away.

She weeps as the alarm sounds and my eyes open to the sun streaming through my window, cascading onto the sea of plants lining my room.

Give up your waters woman. I did. Become but a husk so you can be remade from your dust. Was I ever a mother? Was I ever in past lives a woman with a uterus who didn’t need to hide behind the masculinity she was assigned at birth because of her genitalia? Did I ever feel the sensation of pushing life out from between the lips of my legs, feeling a piece of me slip out of my body, into my arms? Or given away to another? Or take herbs poisonous to this life suckling in my womb so that I wouldn’t need to do this?

I look to the mothers of my line, and they gently move my head to look forward into the future. 

Some things do not need to be carried with you for all the lives you will live love.

The spirit of a child I didn’t know I had been carrying within my belly laughs and gurgles with joy.

Backstory. When I was nine years old my parents told me that we were going back to China for a summer vacation. After packing our bags and taking that arduous fourteen hour plane ride back home, we began looking for elementary schools in my area a week after we landed. We didn’t come back to Canada for five years. I was placed in local elementary schools with a series of abusive homeroom teachers. They were the mothers that my own mother refused to protect me from. They placed their hands without my consent onto my body, their fingers digging into my mind against my will.

Shaping me, gaslighting me, manipulating me into the perfect little brain washed, teacher fearing, government fearing student that the communist regime in China desired from every family at the time.

I could never say no.

These past few nights have been my beginnings and continuations in correcting that mistake of the past. 

Fic:  An heni a vez e grass ar merc’hed 4/?

Taking a leap here.  WWII AU, PG-13, wartime trauma and injuries, mentions of Nazis.  French puns.  Names changed to reflect the time and place.  The Syndicate are Nazi-adjacent but working for a different new world order.
Title is from a Breton proverb, but I just used the part that means “he who has the grace of women”.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Keep reading

Lustful Hate (Merle Dixon x Reader) - One Shot Smut

Originally posted by dixonbeth

Summary: Merle has been at the prison for a couple of weeks and he is getting on everybody’s nerves. But most of all, his presence stir a disturbing feeling inside of you, one that you’re not so willing to admit.

A/N: Story set in Season 3

Tags: @oswald-cobblepot-is-my-addiction @aya-fay @theamazing-bouncingferret @socktrollqueen @lucifers-trash-stash @ichimaruai

Warnings: Smut! Swearing and Explicit Language, Merle being Merle, Rough Sex, Cum Shot.

Keep reading

So, I saw @ithinkitsdashing’s art and it gave me feels and I threw this drabble together with a head canon of my own. It’s short and not my best (still haven’t slept) but I hope you like it.

When Varric returned to Kirkwall, he put it off. The city needed to be rebuilt. The city needed to heal. They may have placed a fancy coronet on his head, but he managed to orchestrate these changes from his former suite at the Hanged Man.

He had to frequent Hightown because of his station. He lingered in Lowtown because it was home. He made excuses not to go to Darktown.

He wasn’t ready to see the empty husk of the clinic. He had paid well to keep it out of trouble for years, but there was no longer a mage there to keep it running. Not a mage… the mage.

Varric’s footsteps are heavy as he walked up the last staircase. He wasn’t sure what exactly he expected..but it certainly wasn’t this.

The doors, usually barred shut or slightly ajar for refugees in need, were wide open to the streets of Darktown. Hanging from the entryway was a large lantern with a blue flame that burned bright over a couple of elven children as they skipped out, holding hands.

When Varric stood in the doorway, he was blown away by the sheer amount of people inside. Several mages walked among the cots, openly tending to the patients inside. Friends and family of the ill shared food, laughter, cats-

Cats. There were cats everywhere: sitting on patients’ laps, running across the floor, rolling underfoot. He watched a yellow tabby prance along the clinic towards a small, shallow through of what must be food just for the felines.

Varric shook his head and slipped among the people. The area that the mage once claimed as his own was now walled off. A familiar face guarded the door.

Lirene grinned as she caught Varric’s gaze and waved him over. He shook his head and laughed as he took the merchant’s hand in greeting.

“Maker, Lirene. What happened here?”

The woman’s face lit up with a smile.

“Anders happened. We honor him here. Everything he did for Kirkwall, for the mages, for the refugees, for the cats,” she paused to scritch at the ear of a black cat sitting on the desk beside her.

“We opened the doors after the battle, some mages stayed behind and helped us heal ‘like Anders would have done.’ Then the refugees started coming back, donated all they had. Someone found his coat and staff…so we walled off his room and placed them inside… People come by to thank him for everything he did for them, when no one else would.”

Varric’s chest tightened at the fact that even though he was one the run, Anders was still healing Kirkwall. Even before Varric was able to put Hightown and Lowtown back to rights, the inhabitants of Darktown took care of their own.

“And the cats?”

Lirene shrugged. “A lot of the residents noticed Anders tried to attract the cats to the clinic with food. Now that they don’t have to hunt down cats to feed themselves, the little beasts started coming here on their own. Donations started including food for them as well.”

She opened the door behind her and motioned for Varric to go in.

Inside, two staves were mounted to the floor. One just a basic staff that held up the mage’s coat, the other staff was topped with the golden visage of Andraste. All around were small candles, each one lit emitted a soft blue glow. A woman holding a small child kneeled before them. Varric couldn’t hear that words she spoke, but the sniffling and small sob was loud in the silence.

He kneeled beside her once she stopped speaking. “Did you know Anders?”

Her tear-streaked face turned to his voice.

“The Healer of Darktown saved my life by helping me out of the Gallows. Saved my daughter’s life by delivering her when I had nowhere else to go. I thank the Maker every day…the least I can do is return the favor. I heal in his stead.”

Varric noticed a small bauble that hung from her neck. A small cat’s face inlaid with blue stones for eyes.

“Healer, Rebel of Kirkwall, Patron Saint of Darktown’s cats. It doesn’t matter what name you use down here. He gave us justice. He gave us hope.”

That night, Varric sent off a letter to Hawke.


Tell Blondie he still has a home in Kirkwall, he just might have to share it with a few more roommates.


(A small cat necklace is enclosed)

2nd Time’s The Charm

Pairing: Baekyeol/ChanBaek

Genre: tutor!au, smut

Word Count: 6,334

Sypnosis: Park Chanyeol can owe his ways of brilliantly describing things to Byun Baekhyun.

Originally posted by lobbu-lobbu

Short and lean with almond brown eyes and stiff, wavy blonde hair. Those were the words that adorned the thin sheet of leaf paper tucked tightly in the palm of Chanyeol’s hand as he took heavy strides down Evie Mountain Court Dr. The paper hadn’t mentioned the three-story house he lived in or the winding cobblestone driveway he owned or the abundance of dusty Range Rovers that it donned. He’d only been given a brief excerpt of his appearance: short and stalky with brown eyes and blonde hair. Chanyeol reached his door at around seven-thirty p.m. It was a warm, careless evening as the chilly April wind lightly brushed the tall, stalky weeds of the garden. The sky wore a pale sun behind a sheet of thin clouds as cars nonchalantly drove past as if Chanyeol were some kind of invisible flower.

The door opened seconds later. Rooted to the threshold was indeed a short boy with brown eyes, blonde hair and a skinny figure. Illuminating those round eyes of his were a pair of thick horn-rimmed glasses, perched carefully upon the bridge of his nose.

“Hi,” he leaned casually against the doorframe. “You must be Chanyeol. From Mr. Evans’ English class.”

“That I am.” Chanyeol gave a curt nod and Baekhyun stepped aside, granting him entrance.

“Come on in.”

Baekhyun was one of the smartest seniors at Brooksville High. He had some of the highest test scores out of the whole alumni and Mr. Evans had personally recommended him to a lot of students, Chanyeol included. He and Baekhyun had met in school a few times: they were both in marching band, though Chanyeol rarely ever saw him except during football games and competitions when they played, but even then they barely talked. He didn’t necessarily have the normal intimidating look of a student who was very smart, but Chanyeol was just so socially awkward around everyone that he’d never really considered even talking to Baek until today when he really needed it.

Chanyeol wasn’t a very bad student necessarily, he just absolutely needed to pass his English final or else his parents would kill him and lock up his trombone. His love for music was the only thing that had driven him to take Mr. Evans’ advice and come to Baekhyun for help with his writing. Mr. Evans had mentioned that there would be a writing portion of their final where they would have to describe their lives and it seemed everyone but Chanyeol was completely content with this. He sucked at describing things, even his love of music and he earnestly needed help with properly inputting details more than anything.

Baekhyun’s house held a grand interior: the living room was longer than the entirety of Chanyeol’s house combined with multiple sofas and two flat-screen TVs nonchalantly playing football games and the like. By the oversized fireplace in the corner was a large shelf of books containing the classics: Hemingway, Poe, Shakespeare, and a whole other list of names Chanyeol only knew from listlessly perusing curriculum book lists.

“Why don’t you come over here?” Baekhyun shrugged his head towards a long, oak table beside the vast space that was the kitchen. “I’ve already got a few things ready to teach you.”

Chanyeol took a seat beside Baekhyun at the table, watching as he leafed through a few dusty course books and easily retracted thin sheets of paper all scribbled with long blobs of neat writing. He set them gently on the table, apparently in order of when he’d teach them, and then, with an air of willingness, turned to Chanyeol.

“Are we ready?”

Chanyeol nodded. He thought he was ready.

He was not.

Baekhyun was a very good tutor and was very skilled at explaining things. The problem was, although Chanyeol knew he had to absorb this information in order to pass his English final that coming month, he couldn’t get himself to focus and understand anything Baekhyun was saying. It was all going through one ear and out the other. Baekhyun, who seemed to be a very sweet and kind person indeed, was getting frustrated himself.

“Exposition!” he said for the umpteenth time. “It’s simple, see—it’s the beginning of the story. You want to get as close to the turning point and climax as possible. No unnecessary details, but don’t keep it too vague. Make it as narrow as possible, but make it necessarily narrow. Describing is key. Now, try this.”

He thrust forward a blank sheet of paper towards Chanyeol and the boy gruffly took it. “Now, I’m going to give you a prompt and I want you to write a beginning paragraph, okay? Alright, go.”

That wasn’t a success. Chanyeol’s paragraph was very choppy and messy and Baekhyun couldn’t hide the look of disappointment from crossing his face.

“Uh…okay…yeah, details aren’t your thing?” he said, with a dry chuckle. “Maybe we need to work on that.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol swallowed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Baekhyun said sympathetically, patting his shoulder. “Here, we’re all done. I’ll walk you out. You can take your snack with you.”

Chanyeol left the abnormally large house, bag strewn over his shoulder and a plastic bag of cookies that Baekhyun had given him to snack on for his somewhat “hard work”.

“Maybe next time, alright?” Baekhyun husked with an air of distress. “Don’t give up. We’ll figure out something else.” His eyes seemed to twinkle maliciously as the words fell from his lips and Chanyeol wondered if he’d seen correctly or not.

Baekhyun shut the door without bidding him goodbye and the taller boy hurried down the driveway, bag clanking against his legs as he made way towards the road.

Yixing, a Chinese exchange student who was good friends with Chanyeol, tediously asked him about the study session at lunch the next afternoon.

“It was fine,” Chanyeol muttered, raking bread crumbs off his shoulders. “I didn’t do too well honestly.”

Yixing fixed him with a cute expression of surprise, his eyes building to the size of saucers. “You didn’t?”

Chanyeol shook his head. “I dunno, I’m not so good at English honestly.”

“He helped me with my English-speaking skills,” Yixing said, awkwardly fidgeting with the orange on his lunch tray. “He had a really…strange method though.”


Yixing scrunched up his face as if trying to collect a lost memory. “I-It didn’t work at first—you know, his tutoring and stuff—but the next day—” His face suddenly flushed and then burned a deep crimson red. Chanyeol was unable to get Yixing to spill what had gotten him so flustered and he found himself unable to meet Chanyeol’s eye for the rest of the day.

He saw Baekhyun a few times during school as usual and responded sheepishly to the boy’s hearty waves as he amicably breezed past. Curiousity grew further inside of him as he could only wonder what Yixing had been on about. Had Baekhyun tortured him in some way? Made him feel bad about his poor English-speaking skills?

And most importantly, based on how Baekhyun had effected Yixing, what would the boy do to him?


He came back the next day at the same time. The sky was still somewhat dark and cloudy and the roads were streaming with unnecessarily fast cars. Baekhyun was waiting for him on the porch, rocking languidly in one of the white, dusty rocking chairs.

“Ah!” he exclaimed, leaping from his seat. “There you are!”

Chanyeol forced a very gruff smile. “Here I am!”

“Ready for Day 2?” Baekhyun propped his hands up on his hips.

“Definitely,” Chanyeol lied, following the boy into his house.

They started with small, simple writing practices. Chanyeol fortunately did a lot better which seemed to make Baekhyun happier. The number of suggestions decreased and more praises rang in his ears. He honestly felt happy as he watched Baekhyun’s eyes skim the words of his paragraphs, beaming with delight. Even with that, however, he felt a little disappointed. As well as he was doing and as fast as he was getting it, he wanted to know what Baekhyun’s “secret method” was to correct his poor writing.

So he failed the next one of Baekhyun’s little tests. Just to do a test himself.

Pretending to beam with false appreciation of his work, he cleanly slid the sheet of notebook paper back to Baekhyun. He watched as his eyebrows lightly crinkled beneath his glasses and puzzlement flashed through his brown eyes.

“Uh…Chan,” he chuckled dryly and Chanyeol pretended to lose his smile.

“What? What is it?”

“Well,” Baekhyun intoned, skimming over the paper. “You did everything wrong.”

“Wrong?” Chanyeol cocked his head. “What do you mean? I was getting it earlier.”

“Yeah, but,” Baekhyun seemed thoroughly confused. “Did you just slack on this or something?”

“No!” Chanyeol huffed. “I really didn’t. I guess I need more help then.”

“Well,” and out from Baekhyun’s bag was drawn another sheet of writing tips. “Use this and fix everything. If you need help, I’m here.”

Chanyeol’s shoulders sagged. More worksheets? That’s what’d helped Yixing become so great at English? Dull text just droning about facts and suggestions?

“Look, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol uttered, clearing his throat; Baekhyun snapped up his head to look at him. “Uh…Yixing told me you helped him learn English.” A proud smirk drew out on Baekhyun’s lips.

“Yixing, huh? You know him?”

“I sit by him at lunch every day.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Excellent. He doesn’t even have trouble speaking anymore.”

Baekhyun victoriously leaned back in his chair, his smile growing. “That’s all due to me. He was terrible at first, but the second time—he got a whole lot better.”

That was thing, though—what was up with this “second time”? What happened?

“H-How?” Chanyeol licked his lips anxiously. “What’d you do?”

Baekhyun curled his fingers around the edge of a paper instead of answering. “I’ll tell you later if you tell me on thing. Do you really need help, Chanyeol?”

Chanyeol thought honestly to himself. Extra help definitely wouldn’t be a burden and he still had a little trouble with creating details.

“I still need help with describing a bit.”

“Describing, huh?” Baekhyun’s eyes flickered ominously. “Well, then.” Baekhyun lifted himself from his chair with a heavy creak. He then began to advance towards Chanyeol. “Close your eyes.”

Chanyeol did as told, wondering with curiosity what Baekhyun would do.

He let out a small, shrill gasp of surprise as he felt Baekhyun’s soft hands began smoothly running up his back.

“Did I scare you?” Baekhyun’s breath lightly tickled his earlobe, planting goosebumps upon the soft flesh.

“S-Somewhat.” Baekhyun’s hands reached his shoulders, fingers lightly smoothing out the coarse fabric of his jacket.

“Since you need help with describing,” his fingers kneaded the clothed skin. “I’m gonna help you.”

Chanyeol gulped.

“I’m gonna do to you just what I did to Yixing. Just with a twist.”

The fingers rubbing his shoulders began pushing deep into the cloth of his jacket, massaging his skin. He unconsciously let out a sigh of relief, feeling the tension seep out of him. Baekhyun chuckled, massaging a little harder.


He nodded, resting his head back against the chair. “Better.”

“Alright,” Baekhyun moved his hands a little lower so his fingers were scraping the clothed skin of Chanyeol’s collarbone. “Now, I want you to describe what I’m doing to you.”

Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows, but meekly did as told. “Uh…you’re massaging me?”

Baekhyun’s husky laugh vibrated in his ears. “I know—but how? Explain.”

“Um…” Chanyeol closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on Baekhyun’s movements. Only his movements. “Um…well, it’s not a bad massage, persay. I mean, your fingers are like…digging into my skin, if that makes sense?”

“Mmm…” Baekhyun hummed, rubbing a little harder. “Okay, not bad.”

Baekhyun’s thumbs began pressing deeper into his shoulders, eliciting a type of pleasure Chanyeol never knew possible. He had to stop a soft groan from escaping his lips as Baekhyun continued to knead and stroke his skin. “Now, describe how it makes you feel?”

“G-Good,” Chanyeol said with a sigh. “I-It spreads a kind of warm, gentle feeling through me. Like all the tension and stress is just seeping out like water.

“Interesting, interesting, okay.”

Baekhyun’s hands slightly moved lower so the tips of his fingers grazed Chanyeol’s chest. He shivered as the boy’s lips inched a bit closer to his ear so they were nearly scraping his earlobe. His fingers dug deeper into Chanyeol’s shoulders, his thumbs lightly pressing against a sensitive part of his back.

“Now describe that,” Baekhyun repeated the motion with his thumbs, making Chanyeol still against his hand.

“Um…it sends like a jet of relief to my back.”

“Excellent,” Baekhyun breathed against his shirt. Chanyeol felt his whole ear go red at the feeling of Baekhyun’s breath striking his skin. His fingers inched deeper past Chanyeol’s chest so the tips of his fingers were positioned on the region of skin right above his nipples. His felt his breath catch for a short second as it seemed Baekhyun had leaned even closer, his lips pressing lightly against the flesh of his earlobe. His fingers softly rubbed his chest, his thumbs still pressing against that sensitive area of Chanyeol’s back, making him nearly unconsciously tremble with thrill.

“How about this?” his voice was low and husky as if he was trying to directly talk to Chanyeol’s heart through the narrow canal leading from his eardrums to his rapidly beating chest.

“N-Not bad.”

Baekhyun laughed again and Chanyeol felt something inside of him shudder. “I mean describe it, Chanyeol, don’t just tell me how you feel.”

“Oh.” Chanyeol cleared his throat, squirming in his seat. He was trying too hard to hide how Baekhyun was affecting him. “W-Well…that actually feels nice, but um…” Baekhyun’s fingers pressed deeper. “Damn, I don’t know how to describe that.”

Baekhyun’s hands temporarily left his skin. “Do I need to get that outline again so you can see how to do it?”

“N-No,” Chanyeol nearly cried, reaching behind to grasp Baekhyun’s hand again. “N-No, it’s fine. I can do it.”

“Okay,” Baekhyun smirked, firmly planting his hands back to Chanyeol’s back. “Now”—his fingers roughly kneaded the skin and Chanyeol leaned his head back—“describe how this makes you feel.”

“Well, your fingers are prodding my skin through my shirt and it feels pretty ecstatic.”

“Hm.” Baekhyun’s hand slid past Chanyeol’s chest so they were sitting against his stomach. If there was any place on his body that was oddly sensitive for Chanyeol it was his stomach. And once Baekhyun’s hands reached that spot, he felt an incredibly strong stirring between his legs. Mostly when he started deeply massaging it with his hands.

“How’s that?”

How’s that? Chanyeol internally screamed inside his head. Besides the fact that you’re making me throb, it’s good.

“N-Nice,” he straightened himself in his seat, placing both hands firmly against the arms of the chair. “I mean…p-perfect, actually.”

Baekhyun began digging his fingers deep into Chanyeol’s ribs and he held his breath as a sudden pleasure seemed to mount his body. “If I went lower, would it probably feel better?”

Chanyeol swallowed a swift gasp. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to find out either.”

“Hm,” Baekhyun kneaded harder and it took everything inside Chanyeol not to suddenly cry out in ecstasy. How was the boy making him feel so good just by massaging his stomach? “Describe what I’m doing to you and maybe you will find out.”

Chanyeol coughed in attempt to distract himself from the seduction coating Baekhyun’s tone.

“Y-Your fingers…the way they’re pressing deeply into my skin feels really good…”

“Good, good,” Baekhyun whispered. “You’re getting better. More practice and you’ll pass that test.” His hands left Chanyeol’s stomach and he heard him begin to back away from the chair. “I think I have a good method of practice already ready for you.”

The chair scraped roughly against the ground as Baekhyun wrenched it around so Chanyeol was facing him. The boy smirked as Chanyeol suspiciously stared at him, watching as his hands slowly ran down to his jeans.

“This always works, you know?”

Baekhyun’s hand wrapped around the leather belt tightly bounding his jeans and Chanyeol felt his whole body stiffen as he popped open the buckle.

“B-Baek, what’re you—”

His words were cut off the moment Baekhyun’s jeans pooled at his feet and his eyes fell on the boy’s blue boxers. His length was painfully straining beneath it, begging to be released from the confines of the cloth binding it.

He gasped as the boxers were loosely tugged down and Baekhyun’s length fell in front of his face: long and rigid with a fine pink tip.

“Describe this.” Chanyeol was absolutely speechless.

Baekhyun’s length—his effing cock—had just fallen in front of his face and the boy was asking him to describe it.


Baekhyun chuckled at his puzzled expression. “You heard me, Chanyeol. Describe my cock.”

He didn’t know where to start.

From the bulging veins to the narrow pink tip.

Where could he start?

“Uh…it’s really firm-looking.”

Baekhyun laughed, his length wobbling lightly as he did. “Is that it?”

“Well, it’s hard…and slightly red…and pink and…long…”

Baekhyun cupped a hand around the back of Chanyeol’s neck, caressing the soft skin of his nape. “Maybe if I give you a little taste, you’ll be able to describe a bit better. Hm?”

Chanyeol felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest in surprise as Baekhyun pushed his head forward, causing his lips to automatically part around Baekhyun’s tip. His tongue instinctively ran all over the rigid flesh, tasting and flicking it. Alarm struck his brain, but only for a brief moment as Baekhyun slowly pushed his length farther into his mouth.

He’d never once had a cock in his mouth. Not once in his life. And now that the length of his tutor was resting halfway inside his mouth, he didn’t know whether to stop or keep going. A part of him wanted this to stop—they weren’t getting studying done and he definitely wasn’t gay.

But at the same time, his length was currently fidgeting in his pants as Baekhyun faintly groaned and gasped above him with pleasure. He knew the chances of him getting laid were much larger than the chances of him actually passing this test. And on top of that, how was he supposed to tell this guy he wasn’t going to suck him off without the rest of the lesson being completely awkward.

I’ll just go with it now, he internally whispered to himself. Maybe he’ll just make me suck him off and he’ll send me home. Th-That won’t be too bad, after all.

He circled his tongue heatedly around the tip, watching as Baekhyun’s face slowly scrunched up with pleasure.

“Oh, that’s it,” he pulled Chanyeol’s head back and forth, groaning and grunting with each lash of the boy’s tongue. “Good boy. Does that taste good?”

Chanyeol could only nod as Baekhyun pushed his head further, edging more of his length into his mouth. He nearly gagged as he felt the tip bump at his throat and Baekhyun briskly pulled out, a line of spit leaving Chanyeol’s mouth with it.

“Too deep?”

Chanyeol shook his head, suddenly extra keen to taste Baekhyun’s length again and he eagerly dove forward, pressing his lips to the tip. His tongue thrashed wildly against the surface and Baekhyun fisted his hair, leaning his head back in pleasure. He’d never once given anybody a blowjob before so he thought for his first time, he wasn’t doing so bad. His eyes drifted up forward to look at Baekhyun’s awe-stricken face, his mouth hanging agape and his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as he desperately clawed and grabbed at the hair adorning Chanyeol’s swiftly bobbing head.

“Gosh, Chanyeol,” he husked, running a hand down the boy’s back. “This isn’t your first time, is it?”

Chanyeol swiftly broke from the sturdy rod of flesh in his mouth. “Actually, it is.”

Baekhyun’s expression of surprise went unbeknownst to him as he dipped his head back towards Baekhyun’s length, taking the whole thing into his mouth. The tip barely scraped his throat and he slowly pulled back, watching as his lips heatedly ran across the surface. He felt his own length trembling with need as Baekhyun’s bulging veins throbbed beneath his tongue. He couldn’t believe he’d been the one to even get him this hard in the first place.

Baekhyun’s hand ran down his clothed back and he bent over, groping his ass through his jeans. Chanyeol moaned against his cock as the boy’s fingers gently slipped beneath his underwear, splaying across the soft skin of one of his ass cheeks. He moved his head faster, listening as Baekhyun’s moans grew louder. He reached a hand down to his own length straining painfully against his underwear and softly stroked it. Baekhyun lightly tugged his pants down to his knees and heartily smacked his ass; Chanyeol found himself groaning at the stinging pleasure spreading through his legs and Baekhyun smacked him again, hand striking against his ass.

“Tell me how my cock feels on your tongue,” Baekhyun muttered, massaging the globes beneath his fingers. “Tell me, Chanyeol.”

“It’s getting stiffer the more I suck it,” Chanyeol boldly winked and Baekhyun shivered, shakily raking his other hand through Chanyeol’s hair.

“Good boy. You’re getting better.”

Chanyeol gave a somewhat girly squeak as Baekhyun suddenly plunged two fingers into his ass. He’d never been fingered before in his life, but the feeling of Baekhyun’s cold digits sinking inside of him didn’t hurt half as bad as he expected.

“Mmm…if you feel this good around my fingers, I’ll probably explode the moment you get on my cock.”

Chanyeol nearly came at those words. He had to momentarily stop sucking Baekhyun off just to control himself: he’d definitely have to get the boy back.

“Look at me, Baekhyun,” he rasped, watching as Baekhyun’s eyes slowly drifted down to his half-naked figure. His shadowy eyes became inflamed with a dark, fiery mist of desire as their eyes slowly made contact and Chanyeol wasn’t surprised when Baekhyun heatedly gripped his hair, hissing under his breath.

“What was that, Baek?” Chanyeol repeatedly tapped the boy’s rigid length against his tongue, watching as his head lulled back. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Fucking stop it, Chanyeol,” came the strangled response. The boy tugged his hair harder and Chanyeol rolled his tongue around the tip of his length with a painful slowness that could’ve even sent himself, the source of the astonishing pleasure coursing through the boy above him, over the edge.

“Was that what you were saying?” Chanyeol engulfed the entire tip with his mouth and Baekhyun’s veins strained against his neck as a long, rich moan poured from his lips. His head dropped back down to Chanyeol’s gaze as he watched the boy’s tongue flit and lash all across his length.

“How is this your first time?”

Chanyeol was thoroughly confused himself on how and why he was enjoying this so much, but the only thing he wasn’t confused about was his need for this to continue.

He didn’t respond to Baekhyun’s frenzied inquiry; instead, he dipped his head right back to his length and nearly took the boy entirely into his mouth, his gaze with Baekhyun still intensely locked. He planted his hands on the boy’s shaky legs as Baekhyun struggled not to let his head fall back, to keep his gaze on the pupils of Chanyeol’s dark, swimming eyes. He couldn’t hide a small smirk as Baekhyun’s moans increased in quantity and in volume.

“I want to fuck you, Chanyeol,” he grunted, hoarsely. “Now. Bend over the table.”

Chanyeol gently staggered upwards on his feet as Baekhyun forced him around and pushed him roughly over the table. Chin resting against one of the very essays he’d written that evening, he listened as the cloth of Baekhyun’s shirt fell to the ground. He briefly turned his head just to look: he didn’t exactly have a model’s body, but it wasn’t bad either. He could spot the nimble outline of abs on his stomach. The boy’s erection sat above his ass cheeks as he stepped fully out his jeans.

“I’m going to get your ass nice and wet for me.”

That was the last thing Chanyeol heard before a sudden pleasure zipped through his stomach like a jet. He bit back a harsh moan as Baekhyun’s tongue ran up and down his ass cheeks, his hands gently rubbing them beneath his fingers. He could feel the boy’s tongue tearing across the very marks he’d imprinted on his ass with his hands, shrinking the pain to a minimal sting. He gasped as he sucked harshly on a particular spot with his lips. It felt strangely like the boy had just planted a hickey on his butt.

Baekhyun seeming to have read his mind, muttered, “Just marking what’s now mine.”

The words that were arranged to spill from his lips were washed down his throat as Baekhyun’s tongue carefully, almost lovingly, pried his ass cheeks apart and snaked towards his entrance. He hissed under his breath as the boy’s tongue subtly slipped into his heat, probing the inside so gently it was almost painful. He gripped his own cock in his hand, nearly collapsing in pleasure as the boy began slowly penetrating him back and forth. If getting his ass licked felt this good, he’d really have to experiment more often.

“B-Baek,” he murmured, pressing Baekhyun’s head deeper into his heat with his other hand. “F-Fuck me.”

Baekhyun slowly retracted his head, his lips slick with his own spit. “You’re not nervous?”

“A little,” Chanyeol said, honestly. “I-I’ve never been fucked before.”

Baekhyun stood up, taking his length into his hand. “I’ll be gentle for your first time. I didn’t invite you over to hurt you”—Chanyeol stiffened as the tip pressed against his entrance—“but to teach you.” Baekhyun wetly pressed his lips against Chanyeol’s ear, sucking on the supple earlobe. Chanyeol released a curt moan and Baekhyun took that as permission to start.

He tightly gripped the table as Baekhyun pushed inside of him; the tip gently broke through his heat and he issued a soft noise that could’ve been called a moan, but also a grunt of pain. Baekhyun gently ran his hands up his sides, his lips not leaving the boy’s ear.

“How’s that?” he softly whispered, watching intently as Chanyeol bit his lip.

“I-I just need to get used to it,” Chanyeol rasped, dryly. Baekhyun nodded against his shoulder and stayed still, giving Chanyeol time to adapt to his size. He didn’t feel very big and yet he also felt extremely huge inside his heat.


Baekhyun nodded quickly and pushed further inside a little too eagerly; Chanyeol groaned beneath his breath as the boy’s length seemed to somewhat stretch him wider.

“Is that too much?” Baekhyun’s voice sailed into his ears again. “Talk to me.”

“I-It’s okay,” he said, even though he felt immensely uncomfortable. “I’m okay, just stay still for a bit.”

“While I’m doing that,” he swore he felt Baekhyun’s length tremble inside of him, “describe how it feels.”

“Um…” Chanyeol didn’t know how to describe it without being incredibly awkward. “W-Well…it kind of feels like I’m taking a backwards shit.”

Baekhyun laughed and his length quivered a little. “Okay…not bad. Is the pain fading away yet?”

“A little. I’m getting used to it now.”

“Do you want me to move?”

“Just a bit.”

Baekhyun’s length inched a bit further and Chanyeol gasped; a small ounce of pleasure had suddenly struck him like a streak of lightning and he felt his legs shake as Baekhyun suddenly stopped.

“Man, you’re really tight,” Baekhyun husked, tenderly rubbing Chanyeol’s ass. “Tightest I’ve ever had.”

A question suddenly popped in his head. “Was Yixing this tight?”

Baekhyun was only briefly flustered, but a smile suddenly cracked on his face. “You figured it out, huh?”

“How’d you do it with him?”

“Do you really wanna know how I fucked the brains out of Yixing when I’m about to fuck the brains out of you?”

Chanyeol turned pink and straightened himself on the desk. “G-Guess not.”

“’Atta boy.” Baekhyun’s length slid farther and Chanyeol let out a rasp moan as the boy hissed above him.

“God, Chanyeol, I really don’t wanna say this cause I know it’s your first time, but please, I can’t wait anymore—can I fuck the shit of you like right now?”

Chanyeol flashed a cocky smirk. “Do I feel that good?”

“I usually don’t admit it,” he inched a bit further, “but fuck yeah.”

“Then, go ahead.”

Chanyeol had no doubt the entire block was probably being informed of the night’s activities: the both of them were being incredibly loud and not only that but the sound of Baekhyun’s balls smashing against his ass were probably being heard a mile away. Chanyeol didn’t even feel the least bit abashed of how loud he was moaning or how many times he’d begged Baekhyun not to stop.

He was just that good.

“God, Chanyeol!” Baekhyun’s speed increased as he forcefully lunged in and out of the boy’s heat, listening as Chanyeol’s cries for mercy grew louder. Hands still firmly planted on the boy’s hips, he thrust the boy’s body against him to match his thrusts, his own growls and moans now sheepishly pouring even louder from his mouth. He hadn’t even expected Chanyeol to be this good of a fuck. He thought his best had been that one kid from the Choir who’d come to him for desperate tutoring in Biology—Jongdae. Oh God, Jongdae had been incredible. But compared to Chanyeol, it seemed he was now absolutely nothing.

His head flew back as Chanyeol heatedly met his thrusts, grinding against him as Baekhyun insistently pulled his hips back and forth. Chanyeol’s walls eagerly gripped his length as he pounded harder, grabbing desperately at his skin. Baekhyun didn’t just want to reach his release and fall into a merciful hole of pleasure; he wanted to bring Chanyeol there too. He wanted to collapse on top of him, limbs colliding as they fell into the pits of ecstasy, screaming their voices raw.

“Chanyeol,” his voice came out in a hoarse, needy rasp. “Chanyeol, I need you to come for me.”

Chanyeol was silent, his mouth agape and his whole body still as Baekhyun thrusted harder; the boy’s walls tightly clutched at his length and Baekhyun gulped, doing everything he could to persistently slink away from the edge.

“Chanyeol,” Baekhyun felt like the need consuming his body was drinking away his consciousness. “Please, baby. Come with me.”

He bent over, heatedly reaching for the boy’s hands as he buried his face in his neck. Chanyeol let out a low, hoarse noise of sensational carnality as he tightly gripped onto Baekhyun’s fingers, biting his lip as the boy sank deeper inside of him.

“I’m gonna come,” he rasped. “I can feel it.”

Baekhyun sped up, wondering how that was even possible, as Chanyeol groaned and harshly swore under his breath, gripping Baekhyun’s hands so tightly, his nails were digging into his skin. He felt the ecstasy slowly mounting his body like a giant wave ready to crash against the sand of a beach. All he needed was for Chanyeol to take him there. For the boy to holler and scream as the heat of his orgasm reached an insufferable height.

Chanyeol let out a hoarse groan as the intense tide of orgasm surged feverishly through his whole body. He trembled weakly against the table and Baekhyun watched with hooded eyes as a streak of cum ran down his thigh. That was it. That was what he needed.

He threw his head back as a rich, prolonged moan left his lips; he couldn’t see and he couldn’t hear. He could only feel the strong waves of his orgasm furiously lapping at his stomach, building into a deep crescendo that was too insufferable to measure. He gripped tightly onto Chanyeol’s waist, unconsciously hugging him even closer. He growled deeply as he buried himself even deeper inside the trembling boy’s heat, sending another shock wave of pleasure through his intensely shaking body. He shook and quivered, his whole body going numb as he spurted heavily inside of Chanyeol’s entrance, soft moans and harsh grunts spilling from his lips.

Chanyeol chuckled beneath him as Baekhyun slowly pulled out. His length fell limply to his thigh, the tip soaked with his own cum, and he numbly raised his head just to look at the tall, half-naked boy sprawled over his table. Just the sight of Chanyeol’s red ass made him fill with desire all over again and the moment he finally caught sight of the boy’s heat leaking with his own release, he couldn’t stop himself from lunging forward and heatedly grabbing Chanyeol’s body.

“Hey,” the boy whined as Baekhyun made to spread open his ass cheeks. “Give me a minute, we just stopped.”

“Oh, I’ll give you a minute,” Baekhyun growled, rubbing his length. “I’m gonna give you a minute to get in my bedroom upstairs before I fuck the shit out of you on the floor.”

Chanyeol smiled as he rolled over and pushed himself up on the desk. “Am I going to have to describe anything anytime soon?”

Baekhyun smiled, eagerly hiking his hands up the boy’s thighs. He tenderly captured Chanyeol’s lips. “I think you’ve already had enough practice for one day.” He kissed him again and Chanyeol groaned against his lips. “I think it’s time for your test.”

Chanyeol laughed, hopping off the desk and Baekhyun planted his hands on his hips. “I’m going to walk up those stairs and count to sixty. I better see your tight ass on that bed by fifty-nine.”


When Chanyeol saw Yixing the next day, he was staggering through the school doors with a limp and was tenderly rubbing at his sore ass through his jeans.

“What happened to you?” Yixing stuffed his phone in his pocket and threw his bag over his shoulder. “You’re like ten minutes later than usual.”

“Baekhyun held me up,” was all Chanyeol could say. “He had ‘additional’ lessons.”

“Ah,” Yixing helped him across the hallway, gingerly supporting the bag hanging from his arm. “How was tutoring last night?”

“It went well,” Chanyeol said, biting back a smirk. “I figured out how Baekhyun tutored you.”

Yixing’s face suddenly burned red as he let go of Chanyeol’s arm. “Huh?”

Chanyeol laughed at the sheepish expression on Yixing’s face. “I know.”

“W-Wh—know what?”

Chanyeol gestured for Yixing to come closer and the boy did, leaning forward ever so slightly so Chanyeol could whisper in his ear.


Yixing let out a gasp as if he’d received an electric shock and Chanyeol laughed harder than ever, watching as the boy bounced back in surprise.

“S-S-So that’s why you’re—and the—why you got home so la—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Chanyeol husked, straightening his bag on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have teased you.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Yixing hung his head, looking bashful. “S-So what’d he…do to you?”

Chanyeol chuckled. “First, he bent me over the table and eased inside of me. Then he fucked my brains out and made me describe the whole thing as he did it.”

Yixing’s mouth dropped as his head flung back up to gawk at Chanyeol. “R-Really? He did the similar thing to me!”

“He fucked you over a table?”

“Shhh! Not so loud! And…yes…”

“How’d he do it with you?” They sharply turned a corner.

“Well,” Yixing went to scratch his nape. “F-First, he made me explain in English how his…‘thing’ looked and then…he made me suck it. And after that, he made me tell him how I did it in English. Th-Then…he thrust down my pants, bent me over the table and told me if I spoke in Chinese just once, I was done for. I-I never spoke Chinese around him ever again.”

Chanyeol guffawed loudly, bending over with merriment and Yixing struck him violently against the shoulder. “I-It’s not funny!”

“Did he take you to the bedroom?”

“The bedroom?” Yixing looked puzzled. “I thought he just did people over the table.”

“Oh, I didn’t just get the table,” Chanyeol whispered. “I got the bed, the kitchen counter, the sofa, the coffee table.” He hesitantly lowered his voice. “And this morning, I rode him in the front seat of his parent’s car.”

Yixing gasped, looking appalled. “D-Did they catch you?”

“Nope. But they probably saw our cum.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“I came all over the dashboard and some of his precum leaked on the gears. We didn’t have time to clean up.”

For some odd reason it was Yixing’s turn to laugh. “Wow. Think they’ll be able to tell?”

“I know they will.”

“Hey, Chan!”

Chanyeol turned his head. Baekhyun was haughtily striding down the hall, his glasses elegantly perched upon the bridge of his nose. Chanyeol couldn’t hide a smirk from crossing his face.

“Hi, Baek.”

“Good luck in class,” Baekhyun patted his shoulder as he passed him and suddenly thrust a bawled piece of paper in his fist. “See ya, Channie.” He winked seductively and was gone down the hall in seconds.

“What’d he give you?” Yixing leaned over Chanyeol’s shoulder as he carefully unfurled the paper.

The message written in pale orange ink made the both of them gasp:

You know how seniors have a free period around 12:00 noon?

Meet me in Mr. Romano’s classroom, loverboy.

I’ve got something else in mind to fuck you on top of.

Originally posted by tuanpizza