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lazywonderlvnd · 4 years

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Imagine Harry learning to play the guitar after the war and Draco finds out when they start dating and is obv a slut for it. Anyway what I'm here to beg for is sexy-guitar-player-Harry smut please and thank

first of all nonners I’m so sorry this took me lit rally 59 years to answer!!!! when I saw it in my inbox last week I was abt to answer n be like yes. this. And then realized it needed to be written and got sidetracked w the first himbo harry installment but here it is now and let me just SAY this trope is my new FAVORITE thing in the world oh my goddddd when I tell u the way I’ve been yelling to glows and cielia abt it 👁👄👁

highly recommend listening to wonderwall when it comes up to Complete the Experience. hope u enjoy ❤️

“I’m sorry, he what?”

“Yeah, he’s really good,” said Weasley. He nodded towards the acoustic guitar hanging on the wall; Draco had taken notice of it the first time he’d seen Harry’s flat but never paid it much mind after that, taking it for decoration, or perhaps an unused gift. “He’ll play if you ask him. He doesn’t like showing off.”

“Which is silly,” Granger said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve told him, just because he’s good at it doesn’t make it showing off. I wish he’d play for people more often.”

“He has literally never mentioned this to me.” He felt utterly stunned and completely cheated. He tried to picture it and couldn’t. “How long’s he been playing?”

“Picked it up after the war. It was kind of funny, actually --” Weasley started saying, but Harry came back into the room -- still pulling his shirt on -- and he broke off, giving Draco a significant look that told him to bring it up.

“Harry,” said Draco imperiously, to which he received two raised eyebrows as Harry fell into his favourite armchair and pushed a hand through his still-damp curls. Draco matched his expression and glanced at the guitar. Harry followed his gaze, looking genuinely confused.

“What, what is it?”

“When were you going to tell me you play?”

“What, guitar?”

“Yes, guitar.”

He shrugged and grabbed for one of the beers on the table, wandlessly magicking the cap off. “I dunno. When it came up, I guess.”

“The way your friends tell it you’re quite good.”

Harry gave Weasley and then Granger a sour look; both of them gave it right back to him, which was, admittedly, amusing.

“I can play all right,” he said vaguely, and took a swig of his drink. It did make some sort of sense, now Draco thought about it -- the tips of Harry’s fingers were far, far too calloused to have been just from casual Quidditch and Auror training.

“You know, Harry, it actually comes off as more pretentious when you act like this,” said Granger. Weasley snorted. Harry glared at her. “Just play for him, won’t you? And us too -- it’s been ages.”

“Yeah, what’s that Muggle song you play sometimes that I like?” said Weasley.

“I dunno, I’ve played a lot of Muggle songs.”

“He means Wonderwall, Harry,” said Granger, grinning. Harry finally smiled too, and although their little Muggle joke was lost on Weasley and himself he was glad to see that it had apparently been the prodding Harry needed to give in. He set his beer back down and went to get the guitar; something about the way he threw the thin and fraying strap over his head, the way his hands went effortlessly to their places, was unexpectedly attractive. The left one curled easily around the neck of the instrument, heavily-roughened fingers finding their odd positions on the strings, something Draco had always thought looked very painful.

He plucked a few chords and then began fiddling with the knobs at the head of the guitar, tuning it in what was clearly the Muggle fashion, which against his will left Draco completely fascinated. Having no musical inclination himself, he could make nothing of the process except that Harry apparently heard the discordant notes in there well enough to be able to fix them, and finally when he brought his thumb down across all six strings it sounded as sweet and clear as if it had been done by magic.

“Course he likes Wonderwall,” Harry said to Granger even as he began playing, fingers shifting and moving and contorting to create the notes while he strummed softly, effortlessly, and the music crawled over Draco’s skin and inside of him. “I remember Dudley listening to it, like, what … summer before sixth year? On the radio constantly.”

“Sounds about right,” said Granger.

Draco had stopped paying attention to what they were saying, though. Either because the music itself had something haunting about its melody or because it was Harry playing it, or perhaps a combination of both, Draco felt a pit of emotion form in his chest to round off the edges of his growing arousal.

And then he started singing, and Draco swallowed very hard. Granger dropped a head onto Weasley’s shoulder and watched with a tender expression, Weasley similarly enamored. Harry had his eyes on his hands for the most part, closing them a few times throughout, looking as comfortable now as he did on a broomstick.

Only three months of official dating had not prepared Draco for the flood of emotions he now felt, yet the most pressing matter had become the semi trapped uncomfortably in his trousers. He wanted those talented fingers in his mouth, to feel the callouses on his tongue and taste Harry on them; he wanted to feel them on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and hip bones, to have them buried so deeply in his arse that he forgot where he ended and Harry began.

Of course, he had to keep this to himself for the next hour, until he was able to get Granger and Weasley out of the flat. And once he did, he didn’t bother dragging Harry to his bedroom -- Draco pushed him up against the front door that had just closed behind his friends and hauled him into a kiss that he felt Harry grinning into.

“I thought you seemed tetchy,” he muttered, hands dropping to Draco’s hips. “Oasis really does it for you, huh?”

“What the hell is oasis?”

“The band who does the song.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s the band who does it for me.” He kissed Harry again, maybe a little too hungrily, and dug a fist into his side when he started laughing. “Shut up, why the hell didn’t you ever tell me you played?”

Harry pulled his head back, looking at Draco with an arched brow and an infuriating smirk.

“What do you mean, ever? We’ve only been together three months, it didn’t come up.”

“God,” Draco muttered, and now he reached down and pressed his palm against Harry’s cock, pleased to feel how hard he was in spite of his ruthless teasing. “You’re so annoying.”

“Well if I’d known how randy it would make you I might’ve played for you a long time ago.”

Having had quite enough of Harry’s particularly sarcastic brand of wit, he ignored this last and reached for one of his hands, removing it from his own hip and bringing it to his lips. It was extremely satisfying to watch the smirk disappear from Harry’s face when he sucked one of his fingers into his mouth.

“Bit fetish-y, isn’t this?” Harry said breathily, eyes wide as he watched, looking half amused and half awed. In retaliation, Draco took another finger into his mouth and slid his tongue between them, tasting soap and salt, feeling the callouses on the tips of his fingers and letting that sensation grip his insides like an iron fist. “Jesus Christ,” Harry groaned; his free hand went to Draco’s jaw, holding him steady, and with a truly outstanding audacity began fucking Draco’s mouth with his fingers.

They dipped bluntly past his uvula, scraping the back of his throat so he gagged around their intrusion. Saliva built with an excessive speed that had it drooling out of the corners of his lips and coating Harry’s knuckles. Draco closed his eyes and let it happen, opening his throat against the relentless assault and curling his hands in Harry’s shirt just to steady himself.

They were gone too soon and Harry’s mouth replaced them, much gentler but still with a tangible sense of urgency about it.

When he broke away, he said against Draco’s lips, “Like my fingers, do you?”

Draco merely nodded, feeling their wetness against his cheek.

“Then turn around,” said Harry, “and I’ll fuck you with them.”

Draco let out a soft, embarrassing whimper and let Harry spin them around and press him against the door, cheek-first. He undid his flies himself and Harry tugged them down his legs and off his feet, allowing Draco to spread them slightly. Harry’s fingers were there immediately, sliding slick between his cheeks and over his hole. The memory of Harry’s hands on the guitar was still so fresh, his fingers changing chords effortlessly, sacrificing them to blisters and callouses and roughened skin for the music they created, and Draco closed his eyes against a fresh wave of arousal and another pang of emotion.

“You really are incredible,” said Draco, biting back a moan as two of those dexterous fingers slipped inside of him. Harry fucked him with them slowly, carefully, seeking out his prostate and angling for it each time once he’d found it. Draco turned his face to press his forehead against the door, eyes still closed, nails scraping wood. “And I like that song.”

“It’s a good one,” Harry agreed. His hot breath caressed the back of Draco’s neck, fingers pumping, his other hand back at Draco’s waist. “I have a million more I’d love to show you.”

Draco didn’t bother trying to find his voice again: instead he pushed back against Harry’s driving fingers, everything that wasn’t the relentless stabbing against his prostate driven from his mind. His neglected cock slapped against the door with every thrust, the red and irritated head dripping pre-come against the wood. Only half conscious of the decision to do so, he wrapped his hand around it and pulled and squeezed and zeroed in on the bursts of pleasure radiating outwards from inside his body until it all spilled over and he came in great pulses, gasping for breath while Harry kept at it.

The fingers slowed as he reached his peak and began coming down but they didn’t stop, nor was his prostate given much of a break. Harry reinforced his grip on Draco’s waist and kept pumping, a steadier rhythm that nevertheless rubbed and prodded at that little bundle, making his nerves tingle and fizzle and scream out their overstimulation.

“Harry,” he said weakly, knees buckling. “Please …”

It could have been comical the way Harry followed his movement as he slid down the door to the ground, except it wasn’t. It was infuriating, actually, and felt at once like more than he could possibly handle and exactly what he needed. His forehead and his hands went back to the wood, bracing himself as Harry, kneeling behind him, continued fucking his beautiful, merciless fingers and stimulating Draco’s overworked prostate.

He pushed a third one in alongside the other two and Draco was shocked to feel a hot tear leak out of the corner of his eye. Harry crooked them expertly, with all the confidence and surety of someone who had done this a million times, could do it in their sleep, as if it was not the guitar strings but Draco’s body he was strumming now, an instrument fine-tuned to his own particular cadence and rhythm, which he and no one else could play quite right.

Lips parted, hot breath echoing off the door and back into his face, Draco allowed himself to be taken apart with the same ferocious intensity he’d seen Harry use on the guitar. Each stroke brought him back to full hardness, each stab against his prostate made his nerves sing a tormented chorus, drowning out the pain of the wooden floor against his bare knees.

“Shit,” Draco choked out, “I’m gonna come again …”

“Well that’s the idea,” said Harry. His voice was full of that same witty and well-meaning sarcasm Draco liked so much, even when it made him feel like punching him. Snatches of the song came back to him, Harry’s voice when he sang it, the expert shifting of his fingers where they pressed and plucked at the strings like he was making love to them. It was all so very much.

He came a second time without even bothering to touch his cock, because he just didn’t fucking need it. His body thrummed and vibrated like a snapped rubber band while Harry coaxed him along his high and back down again. When he finally pulled his fingers out he leant forward over Draco’s back and kissed the side of his neck, then the corner of his jaw.

“You know you make much lovelier sounds than the guitar, just so we’re clear,” he said, and Draco, with what strength he had left, shoved Harry and watched him fall sideways laughing.

#anna writes #I LOVE THIS TROPE 🗣🗣🗣#drabble #drarry fic

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2018shawn · 4 years

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prosecco courage

warnings: unprotected sex bc they’ve had the discussion in my head prior to this night so if you haven’t wrap before you tap folks. smut obvs, swearing, light choking and a boy giving into a girls persistent ways

a/n: asbfjasds I feel like I'm so bad at smut I'm so sorry but nevertheless, here is 5k of it bc the live tonight finally got me to finish it. @shawnsmoose sent me an smol request about 20 years ago, so here it is n I'm sorry I don’t feel like I captured the choking very well sooooo big laughs 🥵👀 we’re here for a good time not a long time peace out x

Tom looked at the picture on his phone for probably the 176th time since you’d sent him it earlier this evening. Your phone was held in one of your hands, pointing towards the mirror to take the picture, a glass of prosecco in the other. Your body was covered in nothing but a matching, red lace underwear set, clinging to and showing off each asset of yours. He’d seen you in it once before and lost his shit back then and as it turns out – nothing has changed. Groaning and throwing his head back against his headboard, he tossed his phone aside, trying to get back to concentrating on writing the script in front of him. Deadlines were a bitch.

You, on the other hand, were in the corner of a club downtown, the red lace underwear covered by your sexiest black dress and topped off with patent, nude heels and matching bag. It was fun; the amount of alcohol you’d consumed soaking into your veins made it more fun that what you’d anticipated. You wanted nothing more than to go about your usual Saturday routine – face mask, bubble bath and your comfiest pyjamas. Or you most recent routine – face mask, bubble bath, your sexiest pyjamas and fucking the living daylights out of Tom.

The music was booming, the group of your girlfriends enjoying their time as they huddled around their booth, topping up their drinks from the ice-cold bucket in the middle of the table. You pulled your phone out your bag, feeling more annoyed as you clicked on your conversation with Tom seeing he hadn't sent anymore messages. After you’d sent the picture, he’d simply replied, be careful, let me know if you need picking up 💙

What a way to make you feel stupid, for not replying to the picture you’d sent to him. It had taken you almost half a bottle of prosecco before you’d even headed out the door to pluck up the courage to press send. It only spurred you on to drink more, to forget about embarrassing yourself to someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend yet. The more you drank, the more you thought he probably had girls throwing themselves at him; as much as he says he’s only seeing you, who’s to say he’s not the same as every other man you’ve dated?

It was getting to almost 1 o’clock, which you were proud of as a very rare clubber, but your drinking was slowing down, your stomach feeling full of fizz. Normally, you’d be straight on the phone to Tom, asking him to come get you but what was the point if he didn’t even want to see a picture of you. You gulped the rest of your drink in one go, picking up your bag and leather jacket – because London was cold in the winter – giving the girls the heads up you were leaving.

Several pleads to stay and hugs from your closest friends later, you were heading out of the packed club, heading to the taxi rank just metres away from the club entrance. Tom picked his phone up after another thirty minutes of working some more, his brain coming to a halt with words, only being able to think of you and that damn picture. He knew if he replied and gave you the response you wanted, you’d cancel your night out and turn up at his place, which he didn’t want you to do. He wanted you to go and have a good time, you needed it after how much you’d been working and grafting, so he’d finally persuaded you to go with them, telling you he’d be here plenty of other nights for you casual date night. He told himself he awake this late on a Saturday night, working, because he wanted to get the script finished. The reality was, he was awake this late on a Saturday because you still hadn’t replied and he needed to know you were okay.

The taxi driver smiled at you as you sunk into the back seat of the black cab, “where to, miss?”-

A loud knock on Tom’s door at just gone 1:30am was the happy interruption he wanted for him to be able to close his finally close his laptop. He trudged to the door, wiping his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the heavy, sleepy feeling. He pulled off the chain, twisting the lock before tugging the door open, only hoping it was you the other side. And there you stood, your arms wrapped around your body to protect yourself from the cold and tom could understand why, the cold air hitting his bare top half, making him tense up. “Y/N?” He asked, blinking his eyes as if he was imagining.

“You’re an arse,” you spat, storming past him into the familiar warmth of his home. Despite your clear annoyance, he smiled at your presence, closing the door swiftly behind you to stop anymore heat from escaping.

“Excuse me?” He watched as you headed straight for the staircase, you high heels clicking over the hardwood floor before you kicked them off, tossing them to the side. Your hips swayed a little more than normal as you started your journey up his stairs, not caring that your dress rode up a little more than it had all evening. “And where are you going?”

“I need to pee,” you simply shouted, not bothering the turn around and look at him before disappearing out of his view.

He supposed he was meant to follow you, not very often dealing with the stubborn side of you thus far into your (not official) relationship. So he did just that. Locking up downstairs and switching all the lights off because he assumed you’d soon be crashed out on his bed, if the smell of alcohol as you drifted past him was anything to go by. The sound of the toilet flushing filled the empty silence before you reappeared, head leaning around his bedroom door to see where he was. On the bed, tom let his legs dangle of the foot of the bed, laying backwards with his arms flung across his face. You cleared you throat, and he removed his arms from over his eyes, sitting up and leaning on his forearms. The sweatpants that hung low on his hips, displaying the band of his boxers, were a total distraction from you being mad at him and he knew it.

“I’m an arse?” He asked, repeating your previous phrase with a hint of confusion in his tone.

You leaned against the door frame, still yet to enter his room as your arms crossed in front of you, body language telling him that you meant what you said, “Yeah.”

“And why is that?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow as you put all your body weight onto one side, your other leg bending at the knee. His eyes couldn’t help but wander over your body and admire the way the dress clung to your frame so perfectly and normally, he’d be ripping it off you, but he wasn’t sure you wanted that from him right now.

“You ignored my picture.” Oh so this is what it’s about he thought to himself, a smirk subconsciously appearing on his lips. He got up from where he was sprawled on the bed and walked over to you, his hand snaking around your waist, all the time keeping the cocky smile on his lips. “Don’t smile, you jerk. I felt stupid! I felt… like you didn’t want the picture. Like I was just some other stupid girl that had fallen head over heels for you and was trying to woo you. It was humiliating…” you hiccupped, your hand coming up to cover your mouth, “… and now I’m really drunk because some guy bought everyone at the table drinks and I wasn’t gonna but I though hey, if Tom doesn’t want the attention then someone else sure as hell…” His lips crashed on to yours, stopping you before you let anything else leave you mouth. He hated to hear that he made you feel stupid. He hated even more that you felt like you needed to get the attention from another guy, but he couldn’t say too much because, technically, you weren’t officially his.

He pulled his lips away, licking off the taste of jägerbombs and vodka, letting his forehead rest against yours. “You know, I had to stop myself from looking at that picture and being a horny teenager all night. If I replied what I really want to reply, you wouldn’t have gone out and had a good time.”

“I need to sit down.” You demanded, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol that was making you dizzy or if it was just the way he just won you over every single time. He laughed softly, pulling your arm and sitting you on the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he told you before disappearing out of the room, returning minutes later with two bottles of water and some medicine in his hand, “take these.” He handed you two small pills, opening the bottle for you as you popped them into your mouth. He helped you in drinking some water, his spare hand resting under your chin and tilting it back as you let the ice-cold liquid wash down the medication.

For the first time of the evening, your lips curled up into a smile as a way of saying thank you as he put the bottles of water on the bedside table, your stubborn personality restricting you from saying it out loud. “He asked for my number...” you don’t know why you were saying it, because at the time you turned your back to the creepy stranger and pulled a sicky face, and you most definitely were not interested. The only thing you was interested in was getting some form of reaction from Tom. But it was as if you’d forgotten the words he’d spoken to you before you felt like you was about to throw up everywhere.

“Pardon?” You words stopped him dead in his tracks as he was about to walk past you, stopping striaght in front of you instead. He didn’t say it aggressively, he didn’t say it like he was annoyed, but you knew he was saying it just to make you repeat yourself for the sake of it.

“He... I’m...” suddenly you felt nervous and gulped as Tom hovered over you, looking down as you sat on the bed, staring into his torso because you were too scared to make eye contact. His body was insane, even more so when he’s stood directly in front of you and your eyes can’t even manage to look away. Each pair of abdominal muscles felt warm against your cold finger tips, the feeling of him tense underneath you sending a flush of heat to your core. His hand wrapped around your wrist, putting a pause on any gentle touches you were giving him. Your eyes finally pulled away from his chiseled feautures, slowly drifting up until they connected with his. “He asked for my number.”

“And what did you say, darling?” His voice was soft, again, not like he was annoyed. You kind of wanted him to be annoyed though, you wanted him to want you as much as you wanted him.

“I… I said I was seeing somebody else.” You couldn’t help but rebel against his grasp, wriggling your hand out of his firm grip and returning it to his lower stomach. Fingers traced the waistband of his sweats, and you thought the outline of his dick was more prominent that is was before. You wanted to show him that you wanted to be his because rejecting one other guy was just not enough.

“Love…” he started, grabbing your wrist again, “not whilst you’re this drunk.” You rolled your eyes and threw yourself back to the bed, landing with a thud against the feathery duvet. “I’m gonna get you some clothes.”

In all honesty, he couldn’t look at you for a minute longer because he wanted to rip the stupid, perfect dress off and have you underneath – or on top, whatever, he wasn’t fussy – him all night long. He knew he was bad with words; he knew he never let on his true feelings and that’s probably why he’s had so many failed attempts in the past. But you were different, he was closer to telling you how he felt more than he ever had been with anyone else. His shadow disappeared from over you, and you sat back up, watching the way his back tensed as he walked over to his wardrobe. Sifting through several drawers, he picked up a couple of options, assessing a few items to see if they were too big for you. He’d liked the fact you told the other guy you were seeing somebody. In fact, he loved it.

You sighed, wishing he’d put on a stupid top if he didn’t want you to pounce on him anytime soon. The black dress that covered your body, was being tugged over your head messily by your arms, almost getting yourself stuck in the mesh material. He still had his back to you as you threw it to the floor, smoothing your fingers over your body whilst assessing the presentation of that red lace underwear.

“You know, I really did have to stop myself, with that picture. You looked fucking incredible, Y/N.” He said the words whilst he had the courage to say them, usually defeated by his inside voice when it came to discussing how he felt. “I think I picked my phone up about…” He turned around, sweats and a t-shirt in his hands and his jaw clenched. His eyes widened at the sight before him; you lay on his bed, on your stomach, with your legs crossed in the air and head resting in the palm of your hands. You can imagine cringing at yourself in the morning, because being sexy didn’t come naturally to you.

“Babe, please don’t make this harder than it already is” he laughed, placing the comfy outfit on the corner of the bed.

“Make what harder?” You looked up innocently, through your fluttery lashes, putting on the most delicate voice you could muster. He admired your body, tanned and smooth. The freckles on your back he’d once spent all afternoon counting – around 57, if you’re wondering – were only partially covered by the strap of your bra, which stood out immensely against your skin. The matching bright red panties adorned your hips perfectly, sculpting around your curvy hips and peachy derriere.

“Come here, let’s get you dressed,” he held out his hand, which although you didn’t want to, you took, shuffling yourself up to sit on your knees at the end of the bed.

“But I don’t wannaaaaaaa” you whined, quivering your lower lip.

“But you gottaaaaaa” he mimicked you, sticking his tongue out. That damn tongue. Could be put to better use somewhere else, you thought, giggling to yourself like a little lovestruck teenager as he just shot you a look at you amusing yourself.

If god was real, he was stood in front of you, attempting to get you to bed.

When you reached over to the short pile of clothes he’d placed on the end of the bed for you and pushed them off the edge, so they landed in a pile on the floor, he rolled his eyes. “Oops.” You shrugged. Your fingers found the waistband of his sweats again and he was getting tired of fighting you off. It not that he didn’t want you, because he’d be crazy not to, but he just didn’t want to take advantage of your current tipsy state, he’d been brought up better than that. You pulled at his joggers, making him tumble forwards towards you, already cringing at your desperate and needy voice. “Why don’t you want me… Tommy?”

The nickname was all it took to leap on top of you, pinning you down. His hand held around your neck, holding your head still as you flopped back against the bed sheets yet again. If you’d have known, you’d have said it sooner. You couldn’t help but smirk, your constant nagging finally getting you somewhere. His other hand kept him from crushing your body, holding up his weight above you. His eyes were lustful, like he’d switched personalities in a matter of seconds.

“You don’t think I want you?” He asked, voice quiet but rough. His breath felt hot against your skin, and you wriggled underneath him for a brief moment, until he moved his hand from your neck and snaked it down your body, making sure to take his time until he got to your wetting centre. He cupped whatever of you he could, his warm hands meeting your warm core creating the most uncontrollable heat between you.

“No. I don’t.” you spoke, with a hint of bratiness portraying in your words even though you felt like melted butter beneath him. A quiet tut left his mouth and you think it was followed by a dark chuckle, but you couldn’t be sure because you’d zoned into a world of desperation. Your hips bucked up against his hand, only briefly getting more pressure from him.

“Fuck this,” he spat, crashing down onto your lips, his thumb tracing the outline of your swollen folds through the material of your damp panties. He didn’t want to give in, he thought he could be better than that, but you made it too damn impossible for him to going about a normal nightly routine without being so irresistible.

A whimper fell from your plump lips as he pulled away, instantly attaching to the skin on your neck where a faint red mark had formed from where he had grabbed you. He soothed the area with his lips, tongue lapping across the sensitive area. The strain against his sweatpants was getting intense, digging into the inner of your thighs the further down your body his lips travelled. You muttered a string of words, squirming beneath him.

His hand came from your aching middle, fiercely reaching up and cupping your breast like he was holding onto it for dear life. Beneath the lace covering, your nipple hardened as he caressed you through the fabric, teasing it in between his nimble fingers. He got off on seeing you pleased, he knew that, you knew that, hell, even Sandra next door fucking knew that. So when his lips didn’t stop at your stomach and continued further south, you knew you could count your blessings and say goodbye to your bratty attitude. With one hand, he tugged your underwear to the side, tracing your damp folds with his fingers. “Tom…” You breathed, desperate for his touch. He smirked, not that you could see, as his head bowed further into the valley of your legs.

Replacing where his fingers had been, his tongue followed suit of his digits, tracing your dripping folds and circling your throbbing clit. That was the first squeal of pleasure you let out, mouth dropping wide and hands coming up to his freshly shaved hair. You were annoyed he had to shave it off, wanting nothing more to run your fingers through his floppy brown hair and tug away at it. Grabbing the next best thing, your fingers bunched up as much of the duvet as they could grab as he continued to tease your entrance, the roughness of his buzzcut brushing against your inner thighs. Reapplying pressure from his fingers caused your second squeal, your chest showing your heavy breathing and back arching into him. He squeezed your breast intensely in an attempt to communicate with you whilst his mouth was busy elsewhere. If this is where being drunk got you, you thought you’d start drinking every day, because never before has he loved and performed with such hungry passion like this.

The sound of his lips working against your cunt was the only thing filling the room, other than the sounds of your whimpers and whines. The vibrations shuddered through your body as he hummed into you, his hand trying to reach further up and find a place back on your neck. He noted your heavier breathing and the way your legs wrapped around his shoulders, getting tighter by the second. He knew you well enough to know that he could make you cum, just from using his mouth, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to push you, like you had pushed him.

When he was unsuccessful in reaching to your collar, he pulled away from your ridiculously wet core, sucking on your clit and pulling away with a pop, regaining his breath and wiping his mouth on the sheets beneath him. “You really do want me, huh?” He smirked, crawling up until he was face to face with you, admiring your flushed and rosy cheeks. Your teeth captured your bottom lip, nodding silently to his question, feeling unsatisfied with the lack of touch. He sat up on his knees, in between your legs, and tugged at the waistband of his sweats and boxers, pulling them down his legs, for what felt like the longest time, until his member popped free and you’re suddenly aware of how wet you are for him, feeling your panties stick to you.

“P-please, Tom” you breathe, hands releasing the ball of material in your hands and reaching up for him. He snaps your hands away, still annoyed by your persistent plan to get him to this point and he pushes them above your head, your arms stretched out as much as can be.

“Get up.” He demanded, moving back away from you to give you enough room to slide out. You remained stuck to the bed, however, confused by his sudden instructions. Was he kicking you out? Had you literally been that desperate he didn’t wanna do it?

“Huh?” You questioned as he shuffled back on his knees until his legs could slide off the foot of the bed, landing on the floor with his sweat’s puddled around his ankles.

“Get up.” He repeated, same tone but slightly higher volume. You sat up, wiggling your bum until your legs also fell over the edge of the bed. Your legs were wide, his body inbetween them as he traced his hand up your skin, starting at the valley of your breasts and finishing at your neck. His large hand cupped your jaw, and it the most delicately forceful way possible, he put pressure onto you, forcing your body to stand upright as you followed the direction of his touch. As soon as you were stood, legs threatening to buckle beneath you any minute, he once again soothed over the red mark around your jaw, relaxing his tongue against your skin.

Your arms bent around to your back, fingers clasping at the buckle of your bra, until he he caught you, pulling his head sharply away from your neck and capturing your wrists in his hands. “No,” he said, voice gentle this time, as if you were about to walk out the door and never come back.

“No?” You asked, relaxing your shoulder and letting your arms drop to your side.

“No.” He repeated, more definite with his tone of voice this time. “You wanted me to see this little ensemble...” His hands pointed over your body before they found your hips, twisting your body round 180° so you were facing the bed, your back facing his front. You got his gist, mentally cursing yourself as you was reminded of the picture. You were thankful for the alcohol, though. You wern’t sure you’d be so confident in it without the help of your little friend, prosecco.

You bent forewords, walking your hands across the bed until you were happy you were bent over far enough, your ass higher in the air than the rest of your body. Blonde curls slinked over your shoulder as you turned your head, and what you saw was nothing but a beautiful sight.

Toms arm tensed as his hand wrapped around his hardened length, a groan of pleasure leaving his lips from the anticipated touch. He pumped himself a few times as he admired the way the lace decorated the curves of your ass; the Brazilian fitting showed off the creases of your hips and the soft natural stretch marks which he could spend hours kissing. His bottom lip was sucked in by his teeth and you reciprocated the action, staring up lustfully at him.

You wanted to beg. You wanted to push your ass back so you could feel his cock against you. But before you had time to decide if that was a wise idea, he took two small steps foreword, lining himself up with the centre of your body. You sucked in air, stomach knotting with butterflies as you waited for him where you most needed him. At tap from his hand on your ass jolted your body forwards, falling onto your forearms and chest flush against the bed.

You didn’t dare look back, not knowing how much more of him you could look at before you jumped ship and ended up getting yourself off. The feel of him pushing your pants to the side made you jump, a gasp escaping you as he ran his index finger up your folds, making sure you were wet enough. Satisfied with how he’d made you dripping with juices, he nudged the tip of his cock against you. Simultaneously, you both let out a moan, both needing it as much as each other. When he pushed into you, at the slowest pace possible to let you adjust around him, he gripped his right hand around your hip to hold you in place.

He began slow, grunting behind you each time you pushed back onto him. A string of unforgivable words left your mouth as you kept a straight posture, noting how the headboard smashed against the back wall as his thrusts grew deeper, the sound synchronised with the sound of his hips smashing against your ass. He released your hip, reaching forward and grabbing a fistful of your bouncy hair. Tugging your hair towards his body, you squealed as your head followed, back arching in the most flexible manner. Whilst keeping hold of your hair, he reached further round, grabbing the front of your neck to keep you from falling foreward to the bed.

The feeling of him clutching onto your neck sent your mind into overdrive although you struggled to spit out an approving moan, your throat being restricted by the pressure of his hand. Your legs began to quiver, bucking beneath you. Tom flipped you over in one swift movement, hand remaining on your neck the entire time as he thrusted back into you, hating the feeling of being out of you; even 2 seconds was too long. He held you there, by your throat, reminding himself that you were here, with him, and not that stupid guy at the club. He wanted you to know he was holding onto you because he never wanted you think about another guy again. He wanted you to know that he felt utterly awful for not making you feel as good as you should about that picture. He wanted you to know, that he wanted you.

He felt himself getting close, more so now he was face to face with you, adoring how your mouth fell open, lustful eyes meeting his. When you bit your lip and giggled, he couldn’t understand how he was on top of, choking you and fucking you until you forgot about the sleazy guy at the bar, yet you could be the cutest human on the planet. He relaxed his hand, swiping his thumb over your lip in what you found to be more of a delicate moment compared to the ones he’d been showing you all night. His head bobbed down, lips hovering over yours as he spoke quietly. “I want you.” He breathed, tensing and twitching as you wrapped your legs around him, “so fucking much.”

His words were genuine, but you couldn’t understand. He had you. Underneath him. In his bedroom. At 2am on a Sunday morning. “You’ve got me.” You breathed, fingers playing with the hair -or lack of - at the nape of his neck as he rested his forehead on yours. He felt sticky, but you were sure that you did too.

“All the time?” He asked with a quiver in his voice, but you put it down the the fact you were both on the edge of a climax. You just nodded, biting your lip to stifle a squeal at both your orgasm and excitement of his words. His hips didn’t stop or slow down like you expected them and you knew you were on the brink of finishing, fingers clutching and digging into his back at an attempt to hold on longer.

“Tom... I- I’m-” You struggled to talk, cutting your sentence short and interrupting yourself with a scream, your eyes rolling back and squeezing shut. He breathed into the crook of your neck, a small mmhmm humming through hip lips in agreement. When his rhythm slowed as hips jolted fewer times, but with more deep and powerful thrusts, he nudged your spot, leaving you crumbling beneath him whilst a string of ohmygod’s and fuck-tom’s left you, your voice shaking in tune with your legs.

Your hips jolted upwards as your came around from your climax, pushing into him as he experienced his own. His arm snaked round your back, pulling you into him as if you lifting up to meet his thrusts wasn’t enough, before he was moaning in your ear, sending shivers through your body like nothing you’ve ever known.

Neither of you knew how long you’d been there; him on top and still inside you and you catching your breath beneath him. But you both did know, is that you wanted to be there for forever more. It was maybe minutes until he rolled out of you, flopping back onto the bed with a satisfied groan. He still had an arm underneath you, and he tugged it, rolling you onto your side and further into his body. You aching centre felt sore, but very well loved and you couldn’t help but smile. “So... about that guy at the bar?”

“What about him?” Your eyebrows furrowed, not expecting that to be the first thing to come up after having mind blowing sex.

“I’m gonna fuck him up for speaking to my girl.”

------

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader

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hallospaceboyy · 4 years

Note

Lady Blackwood is a Bitch.... one of the young witches in Zelda’s class can’t seem to keep their eyes off her and comes to realise that the only way they will get her attention is through some mischief ... and of course Zelda finds out and teaches her a lesson with the cane she holds in that delightful gif . You know the one 😈

Lady Blackwood

AN: Obv the reader is 18+, cause I'm not here for underage sex!

Warning for smut, strong language, use of cane

“Lady Blackwood is a bitch.”

You'd whispered under your breath to scrawl the words on the chalkboard in front of the redhead, and your stomach flips as she spins on her heel to survey the class, her eyes wide with shock and anger, mouth set in a grim line.

“Who did this?” Her voice is raised and you squirm in your seat. You most definitely have her attention now, and your eyes flit to the cane in her slender hands, a smirk curling at your lips.

She’s looking at you when you raise your eyes to hers, and her eyes are squinted, scrutinising the satisfied look plastered on your face, the way you shift in your seat when her glare fixes on you. She saunters over and slams the cane down on your desk, leaning on it with her face dangerously close to yours. She’s seething with anger, but there’s a glint in her eyes at the way you flinch at the sharp sound of the cane, the way your breath hitches.

“It was you wasn't it, little witch?” Her eyes are boring into you, and your smirk widens as you kick your shoe off and run your toes up her calf beneath her trouser leg, delighting in the way she raises her brows and sharply steps away when you reach her knee.

“See me after class, Y/N.”

She resumes her lesson as normal after wiping your words from the board frantically, and the other students are whispering, clearly surprised at your lack of punishment, lack of even a harsh word. You know better though, can only hope that your punishment is still to come once the two of you are alone. She locks her eyes with yours several times throughout the hour you have to wait for class to be dismissed, gliding her hand up the cane, or slapping it against her palm, and you squirm in your seat each time, growing wetter by the second. The Directrix knows this too, as her eyes flit to your thighs clenched together beneath the desk.

You remain seated when the other students file out, and when the door is shut firmly behind them, Zelda acts as if you aren’t even there, begins tidying up her desk, clearing off the blackboard. There's an insistent ache between your thighs now, and a small, whimper leaves your lips when you wriggle in your seat, desperate for some friction. Zelda smirks at that, eyes snapping up to you.

“Come here.” She demands, and you obey immediately, smoothing your short skirt before moving to stand before her, and her eyes rake your form, slow and deliberate.

“So, was your intention to be insulting?”

“N-No, Mother Spellman. I merely... wanted your attention.”

“Ah, I see. You’re one of those. Negative attention is better than no attention.” She chuckles, and then she’s suddenly gripping the back of your hair, slamming your front against the desk, and you cry out in surprise, followed by a breathy moan.

“Is this the kind of attention you were after, little witch?” Her smooth hand slides up your skirt, her palm stroking over your ass cheek, and you whimper, pressing back against her.

“Y-Yes.”

Her fingers glide over your material covered cunt, and she hums as she finds the underwear soaked through. A strangled moan escapes your lips as she presses to your clit and she laughs.

“So wet for me already. If you take your punishment well, I might just satisfy you.” Her voice is deep and sultry, has you palming at the desk and breathing heavily as she leans over you, hand fisting in your hair and licking at the shell of your ear. “I'm going to cane your pretty little ass now, and you’re going to count to ten for me.”

You nod, and turn your head to watch her as she drags your underwear down your thighs, and she gazes back at you with a smirk.

“This is going to hurt, darling. But I'll have you craving the pain when I’m done with you.”

If she keeps talking like this, you’re sure you'll come at her words alone, and she knows exactly the affect she’s having on you, when her eyes dart down to your cunt, glistening with arousal, already so desperate for her.

She grips your hair and turns your head to the front, averting your gaze from her, and she isn’t gentle when she connects the cane with the soft flesh of your ass, the hot pain and stinging immediate, and the cracking sound resounds throughout the room, followed by your strangled cry.

“One!” Tears are already gathering in your eyes and you squeeze them shut as the second blow comes, just as hard.

“Two!”

“That's a good girl.” Zelda murmurs, and you keen at the praise despite the pain as she strikes you again. “If you stop counting, we start again.”

“Th-Three!” You sob, and it gets harder to count each time, harder to remember which number you've gotten to, and Zelda chuckles as you squirm, pulling away from the cane now. She presses a firm hand to the small of your back, stilling you.

Your tears are pooling on the desk by the time you get to ten, and your ass cheeks are so sore, the pain so insistent there's a permanent grimace on your face as you hiccup a sob. You can imagine the red welts that bloom there, and despite the pain there’s a throb of arousal in your cunt at the thought of Zelda's cane leaving pretty red marks there, reminding you of her.

“You took your punishment like such a good girl.” She murmurs, and you hiss when the material of her trousers brushes your tender ass as she presses herself against you, pressing her body weight to your back, her hot breath at your ear. “But if you ever call me Lady Blackwood again, I will not be so merciful. Understood?”

“Y-Yes... Mistress.” You sniffle, and you can’t help but smirk at the soft moan that resonates in your ear at that.

“Oh, I do like that. You can call me that when we're alone from now on.” She nips at your earlobe, and your stomach flips at the implication that you’ll be doing this again, although you don’t point it out. Zelda grips your chin and turns your face to her, and she tenderly wipes at the tears on your cheeks, presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “I'm going to make you come now, little witch.”

You shiver with anticipation when she pulls away, squirming when her fingers graze your inner thighs.

“You’re soaked. You enjoyed that punishment far too much.”

You're coming back to yourself now, the pain in your cheeks ebbing away as her fingers part your folds, gliding between them, and you groan when her finger brushes your clit.

“Maybe I’m a bad girl. I’ve touched myself to thoughts of you and that cane, Mistress.”

She chuckles as she pushes two fingers into you roughly, and you arch and cry out. Her free hand clasps your throat, pulling you up from the desk, your back pressed to her as she begins to thrust her fingers deep and slow in your aching cunt.

“So you wanted me to punish you, hm? My dirty little girl.”

Her hand tightens at your throat, and you croak out a ‘Yes’, and she grins and kisses the nape of your neck, bites and sucks on the sensitive skin.

“Fuck me hard, Mistress. Please.” You breath, and she hums at that, letting go of your throat to slam you back down on the desk, and your hiss of pain is interrupted with a moan as her fingers pound into you, reaching a delightful spot that has fireworks dancing behind your now closed eyelids.

“Are you going to come for me baby? All over my fingers, like a bad girl?”

You moan loudly as she adds a third digit, pace fast, brutal, and you can feel your whole body tensing, your mind reeling at the pleasure coursing through you, writhing against the desk as your orgasm builds.

“Yes! Zelda!”

She stops abruptly at that and you release a sob, pressing your forehead to the desk. You were so close, so very close to teetering over the edge, and her fingers remain deep within you, and still.

“What do you call me?”

“M-Mistress. Please!”

“Good girl.” Her pace resumes, slamming into you hard, and your orgasm immediately crashes through you, and you cry out her name over and over, face pressed to the wood beneath you as you wriggle and squirm, pushing back to meet her fingers in erratic movements, and Zelda chuckles, curling her fingers in your cunt as you clench around them. Her free hand palms at your ass and you hiss at the pain, although it intensifies the aftershocks coursing through your body.

You slump boneless to the desk and Zelda removes her fingers from you, and you hear the click of her heels despite the rushing in your ears, as she rounds her desk and settles in her chair, crossing her legs and bringing her coated fingers to her mouth. You watch with hazy eyes as she takes each into her mouth, cleaning them of you one by one, releasing soft moans as she sucks on them.

When you stand on shaking legs your skirt falls down to cover you, and you grimace as the material brushes your tender flesh, and Zelda smirks.

“You're going to be thinking of me bending you over this desk all through class tomorrow. And I’ll be holding this cane, just as a reminder. I do so love when a pretty young thing can barely sit without whimpering after I punish her.”

You laugh breathlessly, leaning on the desk to keep yourself upright. You bring your hand to touch your ass, find the flesh hot, burning hot from her strikes to your skin.

“Sit.” Zelda's eyes are dark as she nods to the desk closest to hers, and you whimper as you teeter over to it and gingerly lower yourself to the chair, biting your lip as your ass presses to the hard wood. You breathe heavily, shifting in your seat at the discomfort, and Zelda grins and then crooks a single finger at you.

“Good girl. Now come here.”

She pulls you to straddle her hips when you reach her, and your hands squeeze at her shoulders as she kisses you hard, passionately, tongue plundering into your mouth, and you suck on it eagerly, hands gliding up to tangle in her copper locks.

When she pulls away, she reaches for a drawer and retrieves a small pot of cream, and you watch her as she unscrews the lid and dips her fingers into it.

“This will sting a little, love.” She smears the cream to your sore cheeks, and you cry out and bury your face in her neck, and she strokes your back, shushing you as the sting worsens, and you relax against her as it begins to ebb to nothing more than an ache.

“It won't stop the pain entirely, but it will dull it. I can’t have you forgetting your little lesson now, can I?”

You giggle, biting your lip as you gaze into her eyes, squirming in her lap, and you could melt at the soft smile she sends you, the twinkle in her eyes.

“Definitely not. Although, I don’t think I’ll be forgetting it any time soon. Will you let me return the favour Mistress?” Your fingers brush the buttons of her blouse, and she gently pushes them away, brings one hand to her lips and kisses your palm.

“Not today, darling. Maybe next time. It's almost time for your next class.” She tenderly wipes away a smudge of mascara from beneath your eye, and then peppers soft kisses to your flushed cheek. “Off you go.”

You pout as you stand from her lap, bending down to retrieve your underwear. But you don’t put them on, simply toss them at her, smirking when the garment lands in her lap.

“No pouting. We'll be doing this again.” She stands and stuffs the red lace into her trouser pocket, sending you a wink.

#zelda spellman x reader #zelda spellman #caos fanfiction #caos

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untilthenextencore · 5 years

Text

Kashmir Pt. 5 - The Mists Are Breaking~...

Written with @where-the-hot-springs-blow

Forever editing as usual~

Enjoy~!

...

Charissa studied Jimmy as Jimmy came closer & draped an arm around her leading her to the window where she took in the magnificent views they were then afforded after the onslaught Mother Nature had previously bestowed. Noting how he was losing himself to his thoughts, instead of answering his questions she only had a simple remark about the surprisingly tranquil post-storm scene before them. "It's so calm." There was a tiny crack near the hinge of the window through which she could smell the cool damp night outside. The night blooming jasmine coloring the breeze as it slipped through the crack & seemed to color her thoughts a hazy lavender shade similar to the mists shadowing the rich velvet night sky accented by the impossibly bright milky moon & stars above.

The breeze - however small - was strong enough to ruffle a few pages of Heston's book, causing Charissa to turn away from him & remove herself from his grasp with a gasp. "Oh! Your book!" She reached out to still the pages, palm splaying flat on them just as the breeze stilled.

Gazing down at the book now she noticed the title of the page now read "Amulets, Talismans & Charms". It featured detailed images of all kinds of little tools, jewelry like pendants & other jewels and the powers associated with them. She glanced at the list of jewels noticing that among them was listed one of her favorites, star sapphire. It was considered to be amongst the strongest of all, containing a bit of all the rest. Listed as being "All Element". Rather than just "Earth", "Air", "Fire", "Water", "Light" or "Lightning / Electricity". Her fingers toyed with a thin chain around her neck which held just such a star sapphire, though in all the havoc it had turned around & was then resting between her shoulder blades & underneath her hair.

"Hmmm... "All Element"..." She mused, before asking a question to no one in particular. "Guess I have good taste then, huh?" Giggling softly as she tried to lighten the mood which to her had gotten almost as heavy as the air outside.

She then noticed the moonlight flickering off of something to her left. Something on Heston's person. Turning her gaze to him she saw the glint coming from a jeweled pendant in his grasp that glittered from the cracks between his fingers. It looked so familiar, double checking the page beneath her fingertips she saw the reason why.

"Hey, your pendant looks just like the one in the picture here!" She tapped her finger on the illustrated figure image towards the margin of the page. Laughing she turned back to regard him with an incredulous grin at the coincidence when upon second glance & further inspection of the pendant she gasped. "Oh! Is that a star sapphire too? I just love those! Do you? I suppose it must seem cliche due to my name & all but I can't help it!"

Charissa then shifted the cloak to adjust her necklace, bringing the star sapphire back around, lifting it up slightly to where it glittered in the moonlight as well.

"I just bought this at a small shop not too long ago... I saw it in a display & kept doubling back... It was like I couldn't leave it alone... I couldn't leave the store without it... Like it was calling me... I had to have it... Even though I'm not usually that way about jewelry most times... This time was different... I had to have it... I had to buy it... I had to get it... To have it in my possession... I just had to... I don't know why..." She smiled before releasing the pendant to where it now laid just below her collarbones, still glittering, nodding towards the pendant in his grasp.

"Was it the same with you, Lord Heston? With that..." Then after another gasp that came as she regarded the glittering finery on both his hands. "Oh! And your rings too?"

...

Heston moved to where she stood by his book, placing one hand over hers atop the pages. With his other hand, he easily unpinned the pendant from his coat & laid it down beside their hands.

It was an golden, oval-shaped pendant with a stylised, multipointed star engraved upon it. At the tip of each star was a glittering star sapphire, shining brilliantly even in the dim light.

He fought the urge to turn it over, to reveal the portrait of her former self painted on the back of it, sternly telling himself that she must be the one to do it, that she must be the one to make the choice to touch it. Any less would have been him forcing his desires onto her, which he would have chosen death before doing. His beloved Starbright was sanctified to him, above even his own basest desires.

Instead he reached out & touched her own pendant, examining it closely, forcing himself to ignore the alternating chills & heat running throughout his body at the mere touch of it. It was so familiar, so beautiful...

His chest tightened further at the sight of it.

He'd not seen it in ages... Not since one of his more vivid visions of Starbright after her death where he pleaded for her to return & she promised that she would & she would bring with her a sign or signs if he so wished, proving it was indeed her. The pendant went missing from his collection very shortly after. No fingerprints were left nor was anything else disturbed in such a way as to lead Heston to believe either thievery was afoot or that it was just some sick prank. Everything was as he left it. And even when he turned every last house of his upside down, there was no sign of it.

It was gone.

His only comfort at the mysterious pendant's loss being that perhaps it would reappear one day as part of his beloved's promised signs.

And here it was, now around the neck of a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to his dear, departed beloved but who apparently had no knowledge of him or the Order he & his beloved once belonged to, nor any memories of it whatsoever. Heston was nearly a wreck. Yet somehow he still managed to find his tongue enough to reply.

"It suits you, Charissa. Hardly a cliche at all. I would think the real cliche would be if you hated star sapphires because of your name."

He could not help but smile, letting himself speak from the heart as much as he dared at such a delicate moment.

"It sounds as though you were made for this pendant. Or... Was it made for you?"

He gazed down at his hand over hers, his long fingers, surprisingly roughened & callused from early years of his initiate training, to the ring on his finger. He could see her eyes following its sparkle as well, looking completely fascinated by it.

"This ring... It once belonged to a very important person to me. I have worn it ever since she left me, hoping it would perhaps draw us back together. It is one of my most cherished talismans."

He allowed to see the matching one upon his left hand, the golden band engraved with his initials & titles.

...

Charissa looked down to their hands where they now joined, his over hers. She turned her hand to take his, bringing it up for closer inspection. The sight of the oval ring set of a similar urge within her. But it was a small spark as opposed to the raging firelike urge to possess the pendant she now wore. It had potential to grow but was tempered by the endearing, affectionate words he spoke about it & its meaning to him.

"It's gorgeous." As she spoke those simple words, the urge grew stronger, the spark growing into a flame. Her words seemed to vaguely echo in her head as a low hum started in the background.

Perhaps it was just in her head... Perhaps the echo was just a trick her ears were playing on her... Or they were popping... Perhaps the hum was just the house settling... Or the wind picking up outside...

Yeah, that's it...

Perhaps...

Perhaps the fact that her head was now feeling as if it were humming was also a trick her body was playing on her...

Or her mind...

Yeah, that's it...

Perhaps...

Still...

She couldn't shake the feeling that she was supposed to remember something just then...

Something...

Or someone...

It rang a bell deep within her...

Far off in the distance...

Perhaps that bell ringing was what that persistent hum was?...

Yeah, that's it...

Perhaps...

Blinking out of the daze that she felt she was in, shaking her head to shake out of it she let his hand slip from hers to pick up the pendant.

"And this..." At first contact the buzz grew louder, the bell ringing harder. She ran her thumb over the star, feeling as if lightning were striking within her head. As if that were what was ringing the bell.

"This... This... This... This is..." She stumbled slightly, the lightning flashes, bell ringing & buzzing staggering her.

She turned slightly away from Jimmy, facing the desk. Her right hand came down to splay on the desk - on the grimoire - to steady herself. Her fingers making contact with both the grimoire's teachings about star sapphires and his star sapphire pendant hit her like another bolt of lightning, making her draw in a shaky gasping breath, stumbling once more before righting herself, trying her best to blink & shake out of her sudden affliction once more, turning her attention back to the pendant, hushing.

"This is... Stunning..."

As those words left her lips she flipped the pendant over to the painted portrait on the back. Another sharp intake of breath coupled with a few more rapid fire blinks as she tried her best to focus, to clear her vision even though through the lightning flashes, the buzzing, the bells ringing & the heavy lavender tinged mists - like the heavy, late evening mists that still lingered outside, lavender tinged against the star studded & moonlit black velvet sky - she felt enveloping her all the more, she knew that she was seeing perfectly clear. She could tell as much by the familiar sight of Jimmy's ring on the left ring finger of the woman in the painting.

But still she couldn't wrap her mind around the image of the woman who wore that ring that now encircled Jimmy's third finger on his right hand. And so the obvious question came as she motioned to the woman wearing Jimmy's treasured ring clad in a dreamy, frothy, diaphonous periwinkle blue creation with what Charissa noticed to be another familiar piece of star sapphire jewelry.

"Lord Heston..." She hushed in a shaky voice amid even shakier breaths. "Lord Heston... Who is this woman? Who... Who is she? And why... If... If I may ask... Why... Does she have your ring?... Even my pendant... Seems... Seems to resemble hers..." She then gave another small, incredulous - if a bit weak and equally shaky - laugh. "How funny..."

...

She was remembering more now! He could almost scent the memories racing back into her mind, the confusion & disconnect between both lives clear in her eyes, & upon her face.

Ever the gentleman, his hands moved to her shoulders to steady her, give her a safe place to lean upon as she remembered.

"She is my beloved, my ageless, powerful Lady Starbright. This ring was hers, matched to mine, cut from the same pieces of gold & star sapphire. They are linked, as she and I are. As powerful as I am alone, with her we are twice that. She is twin of my heart. I have loved no woman quite like her ever since.

And yes, my girl, the two of you wear a strikingly similar pendant. You have a keen eye to notice it, don’t you think?"

Steadying Charissa, he led her to a sofa by the fire, all leather & velvets. Boldly, but with the greatest of gentility, he unwrapped her cape, exposing her only to the fire, rather than his eyes. Taking her hand in his, he kissed it again.

"You seem a bit fogged, Charissa. Please sit down, let your dress dry completely. You seem a touch feverish suddenly."

...

Charissa leant back into him, nearly melting with relief at his strong reassuring presence. She put up no fight as he led her to the sofa, nor when he removed her cloak, only leaning further into his embrace, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. She smiled weakly at the feel of his lips on her hand. Studying his fingers she gave a soft laugh, speaking in a soft voice that still seemed to echo to her. Was it only in her head?

"Have you not been sketching anything as of late, Heston? Nor painting? Shame. Almost never have I known these hands to be without at least a smudge of charcoal or a touch of paint."

Her gaze then lifted to regard his face, watching how the firelight & shadows danced upon his visage. Light and shade. Again she laughed softly & spoke in that same echoing voice.

"I almost wonder as to what you have been doing all this time, Heston? Apart from your usual frightening poor defenseless maidens as has been your reputation. I see nothing has changed except for your tactics. A hermit now, Heston? Roping the Hermit into it too now, Heston? Really now?"

Charissa then winced & pulled her hand back from him a fraction, the echo fading as she shook her head, looking down & away, suddenly contrite.

"No... No... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I... I'm sorry, Lord Heston... I'm sorry... Please forgive me... I... I don't know what I'm saying... I... I... I don't know why I'm being so rude... I... I... I just... I just..."

Her gaze then lifted back up as she laughed teasingly, reaching up to run her fingers tenderly over the soft, delicate skin just under his lashline.

"Your eyes are a bit puffy. And your face is flushed. Two surefire signs that you haven't been sleeping well. Are you tired, Heston? You always get flushed when you're tired. Even back when you were playing around on that little Berkshire houseboat hideaway on the Thames of yours Pangbourne, you did. You always did. It's a wonder how you aren't the one that's feverish. You never take care of yourself. Always holing up with all your grimoires & ancient scrolls & texts in your little library. I always had to be the one to help take care of you. You were always so prickly with the others. And we both know you were an absolutely mess at taking care of yourself whenever you got invested in your studies. Getting so sucked in... I bet that's what you've been doing in here too, isn't it? Hence the Hermit? You always were crazy about your magic. Weren't you, Heston? Silly about spells and all. Like a child with its favorite toy. You're just mad about it. Absolutely mad about it! Mad as ever. Aren't you?" She asked with another chuckle.

She then cupped his cheek, caressing the swell of it with her thumb, smiling at him in a way that was very much unlike Charissa but very much like another raven haired vision he had once known to have an affinity for star sapphires.

But still...

Nothing could have ever prepared him for the words that fell from her lips next. Just three little words. Just three. Just three words. But they were words which included a name which he hadn't heard in ages but which was music to his ears.

"Aren't you, Professor?"

#jimmy page fanfic #jimmy page fanfiction #untilthenextencore #led zeppelin fanfiction #led zeppelin fanfic

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sunlethscape · 5 years

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The Wicked King Thoughts

this isn’t going to be an edited and professional review like my gaming reviews are lol. i just finished this at 2am last night and i legit DID NOT sleep well because i have so many emotions about this book...many of them that only got more negative as i talked about it with my best friend? which makes me sad because The Cruel Prince is my favorite fantasy book ever!!! maybe favorite book ever periodt!!!

so uhhhhhh here are my thoughts, i need to get them out and move on, especially since the wait for Queen of Nothing will be so long. ALL THE SPOILERS, OBVS so please don’t read if you haven’t read it yet and don’t want to be spoiled!

i think most of my issues stem from the fact that i think the book needed to be a lot longer. in a trilogy, the second book is the most important, in my opinion, because it serves as the bridge between the beginning and the end--there is no other bridge beside this book. and this book was really short and felt like it glossed over a lot?

there is a 5 month time skip at the beginning, which doesn’t feel like the best move because seeing judge get acclimated to being cardan’s seneschal and all that entailed on a daily basis, both in terms of the physical stress and in terms of her feelings with cardan, would’ve been 1) great and 2) necessary for their relationship.

jurdan is supposed to be this enemies to lovers trope, but the only way that this trope really works is if there is a significant amount of development in the relationship, or else the transition between enemies to lovers feels jarring and just doesn’t work. i didn’t see that transition here...they’re both very broken people, who have lacked the knowledge of what trust is for much of their life, but they do know it to some extent. i needed a lot more from them, a lot more development and also not what feels a retcon of what they learned of each other? like at least maybe cardan showing some hesitation or /something/ while sleeping with other people when he supposedly likes Jude, Really likes her enough to be unable to get her out of his head, enough to just scrawl her name on a note over and over again. they kind of do what they did in The Cruel Prince -- be mad at each other and have some sexual tension -- but just for the span of a book. it feels like there wasn’t any development, other than getting to know each other a bit more, having sex, getting close to becoming somewhat honest and then at the end that’s just obliterated. with cardan laughing a beat too late from the rest at the end, i know he has to have some plan set in motion, and it’s the only plan that will keep jude safe, but it’s still ?????? you got married literally the night before. which it wasn’t even a marriage “ceremony” that sat right because this is where they should’ve been honest about each other, at least to some noticeable degree. it would’ve made the betrayal at the end better, too!

the betrayal/ending felt incredibly rushed. i remember checking the amount of pages left and being like...what’s going to happen in such few pages? and for an entire ending that leaves the reader shocked as well as an epilogue (which did nothing, really) to happen in such a short time felt very rushed.

there was also just /another/ time skip of another month. so we essentially skip over 6 months total in this book, and it feels...incomplete. i think the book needed to be double its length in order to carry the amount of development that it needed. it needed more build up toward all of its major plot points -- ghost betraying jude, taryn betraying jude, and prince cardan suddenly being in full control of his powers.

the last one, in particular, bothers me because we spend the entire book seeing him as a king that is more clever than he lets on but is ultimately still messy and rather naive. we get no build up toward him being more in tune with his powers -- it’s not something even jude knows at the beginning, and with being outcasted from the family his whole life, i doubt he received much training. it’s glossed over as him “learning scheming” well in the month that jude spent underwater but...again, that does nothing for the reader. it didn’t feel cheap, but it just wasn’t developed at all, so i was confused as to how he suddenly had perfect control. you need subtlety in books, but you also need to build up to certain things.

locke explicitly trying to kill jude also felt ????? he’s always been extremely shady even from the beginning of the cruel prince, and jude does threaten him pretty explicitly here, but we’ve gotten no hint that he’s capable of murder before, as far as i remember. he’s been conniving and sneaky and trashy and unfaithful, but he hasn’t been shown to even think of murder as a valid option. taryn and him are annoying and this entire family thing should’ve been resolved, or reached a climax at least with all parties aware of everything, in this book. like...he can’t just have murdered jude and then he mostly disappears from jude’s mind and the general picture until the next book lol.

i feel like holly black has created this amazing universe with such fascinating characters but isn’t letting them get the time to develop. we could’ve gotten so much more about nicasia, her mom, the blacksmith who is suddenly a really important player but that we see in two freaking scenes, about the court of shadows (especially ghost since????????????????? like yeah you served prince dain but bitch he’s dead now lmao WHAT you’re siding with what will destroy the land???? okay go off i guess), taryn, just...everyone. i’m puzzled as to why some scenes are in the book, like heather being turned into a cat or whatever and the scene with eldred’s past lover who just decides not to help jude even after opening up to her (which was a nice character building moment, yes, but he’s not even a major player in this and it wasn’t a necessity since he didn’t even help her and the scene doesn’t do anything meaningful for her)

trying to remove my bias as a shipper and lover of good romance, i find myself unabel to agree with people when they say romance isn’t at the forefront of this story. sure, political intrigue, war, scheming etc might all be at the forefront...but so is romance very much. the book’s synopsis touches on the romance. the book’s title is a reference to jude’s love interest. jude and cardan are the only two characters that get page time throughout the entire book (even if i wish there could’ve been more cardan, though i’m not sure if this is becuase i love him so dearly) and are the lead characters. the romance /is/ a very important part about this story, it’s why so many things (including the ending) happen. and i’m sad that what is the best enemies-to-lovers trope i’ve come across was just...nothing close to that at all in this book. it’s a messy relationship, they’re messy people, but i feel like we should be somewhere else with them if the next book is the last. the pacing was really not great here, at all. some people complained that the first book took too slow to start, which i found the pacing to be on the slow side but i was more than okay with it, but this was way too fast. if all these events spanned from the front to back of this book, then sure that’s fine but it needed to be a longer book. many things feel underdeveloped.

i read it in one sitting so sure, it went fast for me. i’m a huge fan of the first book and this is the first book i’ve anticipated so strongly in a very long time. but i was hooked on the first book, as well, and not only did i not read that so fast but there was also proper development for everything so i was very satisfied at the end despite it being technically more of a cliffhanger than the end of this book.

i just...i’m sad to be disappointed because i’ve been thinking about this book nonstop for months? : ( i love this series and jude and cardan dearly so i’m sad to feel so disappointed. to bring up another author whose books I’ve enjoyed, Sarah J Maas tends to fluctuate in quality but she spends /so much time/ developing everything, from the world to her (arguably less interesting) characters. if this book incorporated that aspect of her writing, we would’ve learned more about the lower courts, especially the court of termites, learned more about this entire universe teeming with so many possibilities. A Court of Mist and Fury, the second book in the A Court of Thorns and Roses trilogy, is a stupendous book. it’s dedicated to some action and plenty of political intrigues, but it absolutely nailed developing every single main character in a pretty sizeable cast -- especially the main couple, which desperately needed the development since they were enemies in the first book. Heir of Fire is the middle book in the The Throne of Glass series, and that entire book is dedicated to developing the protagonist, her relationship to the world and to who becomes her real love interest.

these two books in those series are really popular because they spent so much time just simply fleshing everything out...i feel like The Wicked King just jumps from event to action at a rapid pace, with some minimal character building in between. i loved seeing an even darker jude, but there’s something missing in her characterization that i can’t quite put my finger on, and while i loved cardan’s development, i feel he wasn’t around enough. maybe if the book was longer, i wouldn’t have these issues, because it’s the easiest way to fix them. idk. i’m usually not one for multiple POVs (i don’t mind or love them, whatever fits the story best is fine) but i think this book would’ve really benefitted from that here.

tl;dr i’m v sad that i’m disappointed in what was totally my most anticipated book...maybe ever? ;o; especially since a lot of people seem to have loved it, some even more than the cruel prince, and while i totally respect that and see where it comes from, i can’t count myself among those folks. idk. i’m sad and impatient for Queen of Nothing!! feel free to reply/cry with me if you’re disappointed with anything or just dealing with the nearly unbearable sadness and emptiness of finishing a book of a series that you care so much about.

@ holly black

#the wicked king #wicked king #the cruel prince #the wicked king spoilers #jurdan #jude/cardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #also That scene in ch 15 needed to be longer tbh sue me I WAITED SO LONG FOR IT OK

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exosmuttytalk · 7 years

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Birthday boy - Chanbaek One-Shot

Characters: Chanbaek

Genre: SMUT

Word Count: 4000 approx.

Summary: Kinda lonely Chanyeol finds the best companion for his birthday celebration in a strip club.

Comments: This was requested by anon, who I told not even 24 hours ago that I didn’t know when it’d be ready. Well…here it is lol. I hope you find it worthy of your expectations.

Please consider this is my first time ever writing gay smut. Also, don’t read if you have a problem with shipping and gay smut, obvs.

“How can you be such a loser?”

Sehun scolded him as he turned up the blinders of the room and let the light he had been avoiding into the room. Then, he turned around to see his friend lying on the bed with a blanket over his head.

“How’d you get in?”

“Kyungsoo let me borrow the keys. He told me you were planning on spending your birthday sleeping. Sleeping on your own,” he explained as he pulled the covers from his body. Chanyeol curled up and turned around to face the wall. “Not on my watch.”

“It’s just a day like any other, Sehun.”

As soon as he left for university, Chanyeol had all together stopped caring about his own birthdays. You see, he was literally the biggest mama’s boy ever, so every birthday he had to spend away from home he got extremely homesick. Of course, he had his friends, who were always up for a good time, but if he had to be honest, he would’ve preferred his mom or his sister to be the ones pulling up the blinders instead of Sehun. Also, he had already been out for lunch and the whole group had made their best effort to embarrass him by singing what seemed to be the loudest and most obnoxious rendition of “happy birthday” ever, so what else was there to do?

Chanyeol finally sat up and stared in annoyance at Sehun, who took a seat next to him. The younger boy was, as per usual, dressed up as if he was attending a runway show while Chanyeol had been sleeping for the last two hours in a rather sweaty t-shirt and his underwear. That only made him want to turn around in the bed and sleep again, but Sehun saw the signals and physically pushed him out of bed.

“Listen, you. You are always caring for us in special days, so it’s only fair we do the same for once in return. Go take a shower and make sure to dress nicely. We’ve reserved seats somewhere you’re going to like.” Chanyeol was about to speak, but Sehun gave him no option. “Don’t worry about the money, because we’ve all taken care of that.”

With nothing left to say, all he could do was wake up and follow his friend’s commands.

****************

“You’re taking me to a striptease club for my birthday!?” Chanyeol stared out from the car at the entrance of the establishment.

“You’ve been an adult for quite a few years already, Channie, I think you’ll be able to handle it,” Yixing mocked as he looked for a parking spot from behind the steering wheel.

“And it’s not just any striptease club, it’s the striptease club. There’s a waiting list of months, so don’t try to be a party pooper. Besides, how long has it been since you…?” Jongdae had to shut up when Junmyeon smacked the back of his head.

****************

Chanyeol tried to keep an open mind, but he didn’t need to put a lot of effort into that for long. After having their coats taken away at the entrance and as they were being taken to their spot, he had time to look around and he wasn’t all that displeased by what he saw. The place didn’t look lousy at all. There were people already occupying their seats, but it was far from overcrowded. The area they had reserved consisted of a couple of small coffee tables and big, comfortable-looking sofas which were covered in a soft material, and it was very close to one to one of the wings of the stage.

Despite all that, Chanyeol couldn’t help but feeling a bit nervous about the whole situation. He avoided looking at any of the guests in the face as he passed next to them, just in case anyone knew him, although his friends concurred it was highly improbable.

Jongin had used his always helpful charm and the fact that it was his birthday to seduce one of the waitresses into inviting them to some champagne. When the first round of drinks arrived, he gulped down almost half of the glass immediately, as his friends cheered.

The show didn’t take much longer to start. The lights were dimmed and soft music started playing. The waiters carried on delivering drinks, but made sure not to block the guests’ view. Chanyeol was actually quite surprised. It started out in a much more tasteful way than he had expected. Some dancers, who were hanging wrapped in large pieces of fair fabric that were attached to the high ceiling slid up and down in acrobatic movements, which made him think of Cirque du Soleil. Some other dancers, this time including males as well, entered the scene and started a perfectly synchronized choreography.

Jongdae pressed his elbow against his ribs and wiggled his eyebrows at Chanyeol. He couldn’t help but laugh. When he had found out about the kind of place they were going to, he thought it’d be some pornographic show, with girls dancing on men’s laps as they wiggled their butts and got naked, but that looked quite far from reality. He was enjoying the girl performers, but he liked their bodies and their movements from a more artistic point of view, which was completely different from how he’d look at another man. He couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty for thinking his friends wouldn’t have the decency to take his preferences into account.

He settled on his armchair, drink in hand and satisfied, and started enjoying the show. The performers stepped in and out of the stage with every shift of the music, most of the times, having changed their outfits. He actually couldn’t really tell whether they were always the same people dancing or if they were constantly substituting each other. Until he saw him.

He was dancing around the furthest wing of the stage and as soon as Chanyeol could see him, he kept his eyes fixed on him, the interactions with his partners and the movements he made. And those were the movements. His body shifted around elegantly, effortlessly, as if he was made of water. From a distance he could tell he was lean, strong and well-shaped, but contrary to many of his male mates, he wasn’t very tall or bulky.

After watching him for what could have either been hours of seconds, according to Chanyeol’s perception, he decided he wanted to see him closer. He drank what was left on his glass and stood up, ignoring the questioning looks from his friends. He walked up to the area where that boy danced and stood up close enough to the stage, but making sure he didn’t bother anyone. The guy was gorgeous and even more hypnotizing from close. There was also this playfulness to him; his body movements and the way he looked was flirty towards whoever he laid his eyes upon, whether it was man or woman didn’t seem to matter for him.

The music turned more frenetic and louder and even though all the performers danced to the beat, it was obvious it wasn’t as tightly choreographed as the rest of the show had been. Most of them started moving freely, removing pieces of clothing and exhibiting more “indecent” behaviours.

Chanyeol’s eyes were still fixed on that boy, completely mesmerized and unfazed by the glances some of the guests casted at him, as he was the only member of the audience who was standing. Despite the bright lights pointed directly at the stage, the young man seemed to noticed Chanyeol and his fixation, but he didn’t take his eyes off him. What was the point of doing that, his job was to dance to be admired, right? The boy kept on doing his thing but he kept checking each once in a while to see if Chanyeol was still there with him, and he shoot cheeky smiles towards him, as if he was flattered by the attention.

It seemed as if the show was coming to an end, as the beat got louder and the lightning synchronized. Also, most of the performers, although not completely naked, didn’t have much clothing still on. Which was not the case of the boy. He was wearing a pair of thigh leathery trousers which hugged his shape but were flexible enough for him to move and a dark shirt with a deep v-line made out of a shiny fabric. The boy turned around one last time and looked directly at Chanyeol, as he mouthed the lyrics to the song and ripped his shirt open with the last beat. Chanyeol bit his bottom lip as the rest of the audience clapped and cheered noisily, staring at the boy who stared back and whose body, which was just as attractive as he as had supposed, glistened with sweat under the bright lights. As the other performers gathered their belongings and left the stage, he raised a brow at Chanyeol and smiled one last time before leaving as well.

Chanyeol felt Sehun’s hand pulling from his arm from behind.

“What was that?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, I was just watching.”

“Yeah, we could see you were really into it…”

The group of young men spent the resto of the night chilling at the portion of the establishment they had rented, drinking some more and chatting. But not Chanyeol. Since the show had ended, he had been looking around, hoping to see the small boy who danced at the stage, but he was nowhere to be found. Luckily for him, his infatuation hadn’t gone unnoticed for his friends.

“Channie,” Jongin called after he came back from the bar counter for the sixth or seventh time that night. “What would you do if I told you I may get you laid?”

His attempt to question what he meant was covered by the excited celebratory exclamations of all his friends, who quickly made him stand up and then followed Jongin.

The waitress who Jongin had been sweet talking since they first came in was waiting in her position behind the bar and looked a little startled when she found the whole group staring at her expectantly.

“I-I don’t think I can get so many people to come from backstage without a good reason…” she said.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we just want someone for this one,” he pulled Chanyeol to the front, who smiled shyly at her.

Chanyeol and the waitress spoke for a little while and he described how the boy looked like. When she finally identified who he was talking about she told him his name was Baekhyun and left quickly to find him, trying not to get noticed slipping away from her position by her supervisor. The group cheered and ordered more drinks. Chanyeol started to wonder who would be paying for all that alcohol.

The waitress came back with Baekhyun by her side. Now that he was not performing, he had the aura of just any other regular person, although he was still completely gorgeous. He was wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt. His hair, which before seemed to be dyed in an unnatural light shade, now looked a soft shade of washed out lavender. He appeared to be confused as of why he was there, but as his workmate explained the situation to him, his eyes scanned the group of men close by and Chanyeol could’ve sworn there was a spark of recognition in them when he saw him.

Baekhyun then took charge of the situation and approached Chanyeol.

“Hello,” he greeted him, shaking his hand.

“H-Hi,” Chanyeol greeted back, stuttering a bit.

“She told me you wanted to talk to me, right?”

“Well, yeah, if you have the time?”

“Sure.”

Baekhyun lead him to sit in somewhere a little more private, leaving his friends behind with a look of disappointment on their faces, as they weren’t able to eavesdrop anymore.

They had been sitting for a whole minute just looking at each other; Chanyeol didn’t dare to talk and the other man just observed him, waiting.

“Do you realize I’m not a prostitute, right?” Baekhyun broke the silence in a very abrupt manner.

Chanyeol’s face reddened; but he tried to cover it up by finally talking.

“Yes! I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to come across as that kind of person to you.”

“I’ve had that kind of proposition made before, some people even managed to sneak into the backstage and they don’t usually take a “no” easily.”

“That must be really uncomfortable. Can I at least buy you a drink?” Baekhyun raised a questioning eyebrow. “You know, as a compensation for making you waste your time with me.”

They spent the next half hour chatting and getting to know each other.

“How old are you really? You look pretty young to be stripping for a living.”

“That’s one of my many charms,” he winked at Chanyeol and leaned in closer to him. “I’m almost twenty five.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually older than me.”

“What do you do for a living, Chanyeol?”

“I’m a student at university. Contemporary history.”

“That sounds interesting. Also, it explains why you look like you don’t really belong here.”

Chanyeol shrugged and fidgeted with the small umbrella that adorned his glass.

“Why are you here exactly?”

“It’s my birthday. My friends wanted me to celebrate even though I wasn’t really feeling like it. They made a reservation here without my knowledge; I wouldn’t have chosen this as celebration if I had known, to say the truth.”

“I see. Why did you want to meet me then?”

Chanyeol drank to the bottom of his glass. One drink too many was one drink too many, but he was seeking for courage.

“I don’t really know. You were just there, dancing so effortlessly…” Chanyeol raised his eyes from his glass to meet his. “You’re gorgeous. I’m sure you already know and people tell you daily, but you’re gorgeous either way. If I have to be completely honest, I haven’t been with anyone in quite a while… I would’ve fucked you there on top of the stage if I’d had the chance,” his throat felt way too dry and he tried to get some moisture out of the ice cubes that remained in his glass. “Sorry for that.”

“That’s alright,” Baekhyun answered with a smile. He looked more flattered than not and he let his eyes roam up and down the body of the tall man opposite him. “I don’t think I can borrow the stage for that purpose, but you should not give up that fast.”

Chanyeol looked up at him questioningly, but he found Baekhyun’s face way closer than he expected. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and place a closed-mouth kiss on his lips; a kiss that could’ve been even chaste had him not been staring directly into Chanyeol’s eyes while doing so.

“Mind if I take you home with me?” he asked in a whisper.

**********************

The door leading to Baekhyun’s apartment slammed open, as it was being pushed by two bodies pressed against each other that didn’t have enough time to worry about such trivial things as locks. Chanyeol pressed Baekhyun up the hall wall, his mouth buried in his neck, leaving marks he’d surely had to cover up with make up in time for the next performance. The strength of the taller boy was enough to almost lift him off the ground. He was eager as a puppy which hadn’t been fed in a while and Baekhyun found his enthusiasm exhilarating; he was one of the most attractive men that had showed interest on him, so he wasn’t going to let the chance slip away so fast.

“Easy, easy,” he put his hand on top of Chanyeol’s chest, making him raise his head to look at him, breathing heavily. “Let’s do this the right way.”

Baekhyun took his hand and led him to the living room, where he made him sit in the sofa before walking away to the other side of the room, to play some music. Chanyeol whined for attention, but he shat up as soon as the other boy started dancing in front of him, following the melody with his body.

“I just want you to look at me like you did before, Chanyeol,” he said as he approached, without slowing his dance down. “Do you know how arousing it is to have people wanting you so bad? Besides, my show is quite tame, compared to some of my mates’. But I’m sure you’d appreciate the complete version, right?”

Chanyeol watched in awe as the shorter boy danced around the room at the time he used his words to mesmerize him even more, not that it was needed. Baekhyun started taking layers of clothes off his body, at the time he kept on talking and dancing in sync to the music. Chanyeol, who wasn’t the most skilled of dancers, could do nothing else but to admire his ability, but there was a tingling sensation in the palm of his hands. He needed to touch him as soon as possible.

He reached forward for Baekhyun’s arm, and pulled him to sit on top of him. Baekhyun smiled and shifted around as he was straddling over him and Chanyeol’s hand rested on his hips.

“How eager are you, big boy?”

He leaned in a pressed his lips against Chanyeol’s neck, nibbling and sucking up and down, leaving a trail of saliva and a well-place bite on his earlobe. Meanwhile, Chanyeol’s hands were strongly grasping at his back and the moans that escaped his mouth at the same time his lips moved around his skin were like music to Baekhyun’s ears. When he pulled back to look at his face, his eyes were heavy and filled with want, and that send a jab of desire mixed with fondness directly to his crotch.

He grabbed the hand of the taller boy and made him stand up. The very protruding bulge inside his pants didn’t go unnoticed for any of them.

“Come with me,” he said as he started walking towards the back of the apartment while still tangled between Chanyeol’s arms, undoing the buttons of his shirt with every step they took. “You know, I didn’t really shower after dancing. I was planning to do it when I got home…”

Chanyeol leaned down and licked his neck.

“I don’t mind, you smell delicious.”

“You’re really cute,” Baekhyun said giggling, but lead him towards the spacious bathroom either way.

He sat Chanyeol back down in a small bench and started properly undoing his tie and shirt, as Chanyeol, with his hands over Baekhyun’s ass looked up at him and around him.

“You seem to be doing quite well in that job, huh?” He asked earning a laugh from the other man.

“I really can’t complain.”

When he finished his task, he stepped back and took off his own trousers and underwear, keeping his eyes fixed on Chanyeol, who followed suit the moment he saw him completely naked. Baekhyun smirked and felt his cock twitch when he saw the other man’s standing member. Then, he stepped into the shower.

“Care to join?”

The warm water awakened Chanyeol’s senses a bit more and made the dizziness from the alcohol somewhat fade away. He took a dollop of bath gel and devoted his time to getting to know the body of the man in front of him. He stroked every inch of him body from top to bottom and when he was all soaped up, he rinsed the foam off him and started following patterns down his back with his tongue, as he kneeled on the bath floor. Baekhyun was starting to get really worked up from Chanyeol’s actions and the sensation of the water against his skin. When Chanyeol’s mouth reached his bottom, he started nibbling at the soft skin and then reached around his waist to grab a hold of his cock. Baekhyun needed to hold on to Chanyeol’s broad shoulders as he made him turn around to face him, at the time he traced a moist path from his butt to his crotch by dragging his mouth around his hips. Then, just when Baekhyun was standing there, fully erect and desperate, he smacked his butt softly and nibbled just below his navel before going further down and covering his cock with his mouth. Baekhyun leaned against the shower wall, eyes closed and mouth open panting for air. He refrained from grabbing his head to actively thrust into his mouth, but tangled his hands on the other man’s dark hair. The mouth steady motions on his cock were quickly becoming almost unbearable for him, but he thought he might pass out when he felt one of Chanyeol’s strong hands between his butt cheeks and toying at his entrance.

“Okay, stop, stop. We’re already…very clean and this can get a bit too dangerous,” he said, turning off the flow of water.

Chanyeol looked up at him and grinned.

“Oh, I thought you were having fun.”

“When did you get so confident?? I am having a lot of fun, I just don’t want any of us cracking their head open. Blood’s really difficult to clean up.”

Chanyeol smiled and headed towards what looked like his bedroom to him and laid down on the bed. Baekhyun followed him closely, looking at his naked ass and laid on top of him, his legs resting at each side of Chanyeol’s hips and not caring at all about the wetness of their bodies over the clean sheets.

Chanyeol pulled him towards him and kissed his passionately, with one of his hands pumping at the other man’s cock and the other tracing patterns at his back. When the kiss broke he put his fingers against Baekhyun’s lips. He opened his mouth and sucked hard, covering them in his slobber that later Chanyeol used to coat his entrance and his own cock. Then, he placed himself against Baekhyun and waited for him to nod to push inside. A stinging pain spread across Baekhyun’s lower back, but he knew it’d only last for a few seconds, until he passed through the first ring of tightness. When Chanyeol was completely accommodated inside of him, his skin was completely aroused and it only took a few sways to start ripping moans out of each other’s throat. The more Baekhyun guided him in and out of his body, the more Chanyeol’s fingers dug into the skin of his hips, and he knew it wouldn’t take much longer until the taller boy took the lead. In fact, it only took one more well-placed kiss from Baekhyun on his collarbone for Chanyeol to start thrusting upwards. The pace was much faster than what Baekhyun was able to perform and although the slight pain came back for a moment, the pleasure was greater. Chanyeol’s hard breathing started turning into deep grunts and he pushed against Baekhyun’s body with a lot more force.

“Please…” Baekhyun managed to beg between moans.

Chanyeol wrapped his hand against his cock again and tried to pump it at the same rhythm he was keeping up at Baekhyun’s rear. It wasn’t long when Baekhyun came undone all over Chanyeol’s belly, and the sight of him enjoying so much, his flushed cheeks, his mouth open in moans and his dishevelled hair was enough for Chanyeol to find release as well.

“Happy birthday, by the way. I don’t think I told you before,” said Baekhyun as he collapsed on top of Chanyeol, still laying on his bed.

Masterlist

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #my writing #chanbaek #chanbaek smut #exo imagine #exo preference #+18 #one shot #chanyeol #baekhyun #request

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fleabite531 · 7 years

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JVP Netanyahu demo and Official New Friend

Wednesday. Chilled day with Y. He was working from home. I was lazing about and got snuggles during his breaks. Then I headed into SF for Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) demo protesting Trump’s meeting that day with Netanyahu and their shared values of racism, wall-building and hate-mongering. Was cool to be with other Jewish progressives, though a little disappointed there was only about 40-50 there. It was a 2 hour demo and I was only there for last bit so there might have been more attending in total as folks were coming and going. I liked the connection between zionism and to USA rhetoric and policies on migration and borders, which was expressed in chants and handmade placards.

After the demo a couple of Bay Area friends I had originally connected with from Gaza (from my trip in 2003) met me and I really enjoyed how easy and grounded in affection these relationships are. Partly I think it might be that usa (partic west coast?) culture is more emotionally demonstrative anyway, so i might just be experiencing that and feeling it as “ooo these people like me, its safe for me to open up to them too”. But regardless I’m starting to really value these other reasons for being in bay area besides Y, and this works well as both Y and I like spending time with other people too when we’re together.

I had this waffle/diner food craving, and as this was my last opportunity for it for a while, we headed to Mel’s. Mel’s is both fun, and cliched/OTT, but I’m a tourist and I kinda enjoy the OTT so I love sitting in a Happy Days set! We even used the booth side jukebox! Excitingly someone joined us who I’ve only before met with when I’ve been also meeting her partner who is an old friend of mine. We both agreed that meeting without him made us now Official Friends. She was also excited to be in SF itself, as she does the common Easy Bay resident thing of hardly ever coming over into the city.

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Waffley goodness. And hell yes did I add the extra butter as well as the warmed maple syrup!

Official Friends! And both excited by our food!

Y joined us, and then a bit later New Official Friend, Y and I decided to go for Mexican food in the Mission – hey its my last night! I’m totes allowed 2 suppers! Then we went for a wander and ended up at the top of Dolores Park enjoying the view over the city before grabbing Indian deserts on our way to the last BART back to the East Bay. For I still needed to pack and then get up at 6am for my flight home!

Bus ticket drama

At SFO I was probably over excited by the TSA dog – so cute, though it looked pretty skinny. Luckily the excitement was not reciprocated so I got through security uneventfully, though the same was not true about getting from Edinburgh airport back to Glasgow…

So I’d managed to lose my purse containing my return bus ticket and debit card at Reykjavik airport on the way out. Pop quiz: a) I did the responsible thing and phoned lost property about it as soon as i realised, or b) I procrastinated making the scary phone call and then decided I’d just see them when I transited on my way back home only to find out that the lost property office was only open at 8:30am, was after my 4am-7am transit time? Ooops! Of course I had a chain of backup plans in case my purse wasn’t even in the airport:

1) pick up return bus ticket with bank card in iceland. 2) use debit card stored in chrome to buy bus ticket online and choose sms ticket option 3) use Y’s credit card to buy bus ticket online 4) convert $20 at edin airport (and take on chin the double commission whammy of both converting a small amount and an airport booth – I just need £11:60 for the bus ticket…) 5) once am in uk and time is more respectable (i landed 9am) start calling round friends to either buy me a bus ticket online / rescue me from airport 6) hitchhike – lots of Glasgow folks use Edinburgh airport and I was due to land at peak time (9am)

Ok, fine, so I couldn’t get my bus ticket or debit card… i just drop to option 2. After all I’ve used my card online so often I never even have to look at the CVC anymore. It turns out that my memory of that 3 digits is perfect unless its 5am and I’m on dodgy airport wifi with no way to just look at the back of the goddamned card! Fine, I’ll use Y’s credit card – he’d given me one that was about to expire anyway in case options 1 or 2 fell through. Except it turns out the citylink website doesn’t accept non uk billing addresses. Argh! More time passes and I’m like, bugger this, I need coffee[0] and then realised i could get citylink tickets on megabus website too. So off I go but now I’m struggling with the verified by visa password and Y is busy.

However the coffee was def working – some more googling and it turns out you can buy bus tickets at edinburgh airport’s tourist information booth! They’re bound to accept card payments, and Y’s given me his pin so i’m sorted! There are buses at 9:30 and 10:00 and I’m desperate to just get to my own bed by this time.

[09:00] Luckily our flight lands a bit early and I race through immigration and to the booth (in post coffee alertness at Reykjavik I’d pre-memorised the route from the online airport map)

[09:15] Possibly over sharing I tell the v friendly “welcome to scotland” person that i’ve just arrived back from travel abroad and so don’t have cash yet and so want to buy the bus ticket using my credit card and am hoping to make the 09:30 bus. She says she’s going to make sure she can give me the ticket before taking my money and then has to boot the computer an go through the complex online system. “I don’t think we have to waste time filling in your phone number and email address. I’ll just tick that you refused to give them to me”

[09:18] The printer is jammed and after several minutes she gives up trying to fix the feed and goes to another machine which thank the universe spits out the ticket.

[09:23] I put Y’s credit card into their card reader, but instead of asking for the pin, it says “payment accepted. signature required” and directs me to remove the card. So she prints the receipt and asks me to sign it. I squiggle “Praveen Kumar”[1] and hand it back.

[09:24] She flicks over the card (d’oh! of course she was going to do that! i’d forgotten that was even a thing. when was last time you signed for a card payment???) and the signature panel is blank… “Do you have any other ID with you?” Me, feigning calmness but running lateness “Oh no, I don’t have an other ID with me!”

Lets recap : 1) I’ve told her I’ve just landed off an international flight. 2) As far as she’s concerned she’s addressing a white female with an English accent. 3) The card is for an American bank with an Indian male name.

“Well I think you’ve been kept waiting long enough trying to get it printed. Turn right and then right again to get to the bus stop”

I LOVE BEING BACK IN SCOTLAND!!!! And I am very appreciative that I have bucketloads of white privilege which I am benefitting from – doubt this would have been so easy had Praveen Kumar been trying to use a card with a white chick’s name on :(

Friday – Spontaneous outing to The Lost Boys at amusement park

I arrived home at about 11am. Obviously first thing I did was put the kettle on. Ah tea, now things seem more reasonable. Ok, so I’ve had maybe 6 hours sleep since Wednesday, and I should probably change my clothes, but all I need to do today is stay awake til 8ish, go to the bank to get cash out across the counter, and get a few groceries in for the weekend. Then I’ll sleep like a baby and wake up some time tomorrow, go to the LGBTQ boxing club, and my timezone should be all fixed ready for 12 hour shift on Sunday. By 4:30pm I’ve done bank and shop chores and have cash and am planning a quiet evening and then sleeeeeeeep.

And then, this being Glasgow, a friend invites me to a Glasgow Film Festival screening of The Lost Boys in a secret location, buses leaving from the GFT in 90 mins. So much for the early night plan! Accompanied by motorbikes revelling as they rev their engines to full blast we are transported to M&Ds amusement park. We bump into another friend and play on the rides opened up specially for the occasion, the park packed with excited adults in vampire/hunter dress-up squirting holy-water-pistols at each other on the big wheel and maximal audience participation through a favourite teenage movie. Much glee!

Walking home from the bus, much sleep deprived but very content with how lucky I am to come back to Glasgow, where being “cool” means showing your exuberance, participating to the max. Not sneering, but rather thrilling at and cheering on others’ dorkiness and throwing themselves into the spirit of whatever hijinks is going on.

eg from http://www.medizeninc.com/index.php/menu/

[0] food and drink seems to feature a lot in today’s blog… To add more, as wow air doesn’t give any food on the flight I’d packed another really good picnic; hard boiled eggs, oranges, humus and veg wrap (didn’t taste good on the flight though – i know taste buds are supposed to be different on flights), smoked tofu and jerky. This time didn’t have the conveniently under 100mls water-tight containers i had last time, and the liquor store seemed confused about why i’d want a *small* bottle of alcohol (merkans and their super-sizing!) so decided to buy booze in duty-free as obvs you can carry that onto the plane. Except then I realised once aboard that i wasn’t sure if i’d be allowed to carry it onto my second flight if i took it out of the heat sealed duty free bag and opened it. so i relied on snoozing and copious pre downloaded star trek to get me through instead. I’d turned down a pal’s offer of a “medicated” jelly bean which given the TSA doggie (such cute eyes!) was lucky!

[1] Name changed to another Indian male name for privacy reasons.

Homecoming – Last day in SF bay area (JVP netanyahu demo, and /official/ new friend). Bus ticket drama. Glasgow returning – spontaneous outing to The Lost Boys at amusement park. JVP Netanyahu demo and Official New Friend Wednesday. Chilled day with Y. He was working from home.

#gff #glasgow #politics #san francisco #the lost boys #travel

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