#i knew a lot of things about oscar wilde | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

railingsofsorrow · 10 months

Text

New Traditions

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: you bring him coffee from his favorite coffee shop, he brings you your favorite blueberry muffins. it's a silent routine you've established with one another. but maybe, just maybe, you'd like something more than coffee and muffins during work hours. and maybe, just maybe, he'd like that too.

or. . . in which this is a sequel to this blurb.

pairing: s.reid x gn!reader

w.c: 4K

warnings/content: spencer & reader being a Simp ™ for e/o; discussion regarding addictions and intoxication; expectations being uphold; friendly banter; I love you but I'll never admit it trope (hang tight with me); self-doubts; language; fluff fluff fluff; making out.

A/N: I guess this can be read as a standalone but it'd make more sense if you read this one first. enjoy!

navi

masterpost

━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Spencer arrived in the Bureau that morning, he did his usual ritual: place his satchel on his chair and retract immediately to the pantry to make his coffee. He couldn't function without it. Actually, he was pretty certain no one in his team could function in the morning without any type of caffeine. Some of the times, when he was the first to arrive — it's rare, Hotch is always there — he'd prepare a coffee pot, fill up his mug, add seven sachets of sugar and cream, and leave it there for whoever wanted it.

It was the same thing every day. His routine was drab but he liked it the way it was.

Spencer wouldn't consider himself a person inclined to changes. Everybody knows that and everybody is used to it. But he's accustomed to it. He's came around to the fact that life comes with lots of surprises and unexpectancy, even if he's not fond of it, he's gotta take it and stop whining about it.

You were the change that made him not despise surprises that much. Your arrival at the BAU was one of the best choices the department made. To the team. And to him, of course. Not that he'd ever tell you that.

It changed how he felt listened. He was used to being brushed off by his co-workers whenever he started rambling, so much so that he begin to contain his urges to spurt out statistics in random conversations. Then, you came along and actually paid attention to what he was saying in these moments. In every moment, precisely.

You wouldn't stop asking him about the history of the movies and the snacks they were selling during that night at the Korean Festival. It was a week ago. He wished he could come back to that day and see your mesmerized face as he explained details of the culture.

He had so much fun. He didn't do it a lot; hanging out. Being with people was totally tangent to his comfort zone. Spencer cherished his alone time. The silence, the peace and the no-need-to-pick-up-on-social-cues part — he was really bad at the latter.

But he loved spending time with you. He'd like to do it more often. If only he was able to stop hyperventilating and shaking whenever he thought about asking you out.

Not as a date. As friends. Because that's what you were.

Definitely not as a date.

That morning, when he arrived at his desk, a coffee sat upon it. Remember those changes he mentioned? Yeah. This is one of them. You started bringing him coffee from his favourite coffee shop near Quantico. And it was his exact order.

He felt his heart swell every time he'd see your messy handwriting in the cup holder.

“Did you know that Mr. Oscar Wilde had a photographic memory? He was able to remember long passages and then effortlessly recall them later. That reminded me of you. Although I'm sure you certainly can remember three entire books from the 1st page to the last one and quote the whole thing. Wilde would be jealous, Spence.”

Ps: I know photographic memory and eidetic memory are two different things, it just reminded me of you :)

Since the beginning of the week you had this little thing going on. He didn't know what it was, he didn't know if you knew what it was. But you'd bring him coffee with random curiosities and he'd bring you blueberry muffins with quotes from your favorite poets.

“What's that smug grin for?” His neck snapped up at the voice, Derek was sipping on his coffee with a curious look. He was sizing him up.

“Nothing.” Spencer smoothly covered your little note with his hand and took a sip of the beverage. Eyes shutting in delight. Fuck. How can you do everything right? This is perfectly sweetened. “We got a case?” He mentioned Penelope walking straight to the conference room, distracting himself from the obvious profiling Derek was doing.

“Yeah.” Derek clicks his tongue against his palate, tilting his head. “Pretty boy...”

“What?” Spencer gave him an innocent look, grabbing his stuff. “We should go.”

Derek chuckled behind him, “You're not slick, Reid. I can see it!”

“What are you talking about?” He shrieked out, taking a seat across from Emily while carefully placing his cup on the table. Garcia was already preparing the images to detail the case.

Derek pointed at him and mouthed I see you before sitting down beside Hotch, JJ taking the seat at his right. The middle of his forehead twitched slightly when he didn't see you. Were you late? Did something hold you up? No. You had brought his coffee, you must be—

“Morning, Reid.”

He just had to look at his side. Your soft smile greeting him. He's going to have a great day.

“Good morning,” he replied, the corner of his lips quirking up when he saw the brand sticker on your coffee cup. Seems like it wasn't just his favorite place anymore. The little bag inside his satchel didn't have a chance to meet your hands yet, he'd usually put beside your computer as soon as he arrived.

He'd have to give it to you later. He knows you don't like having any breakfast in the morning. But you still shouldn't spend the day on coffee and an empty stomach.

Fortunately or not, it was a local case, so you didn't need the jet this time. You ended up stuck in the Geographical profile while everyone else head down to the ME's office. Penelope abandoned her cave to keep you company.

“Hey,” she called out, not looking up from her laptop. By the long time you knew your friend, if there was one thing she could do, that thing was multitasking. Don't fool yourself thinking that she wasn't paying attention to everything that's going on around her just because she's focused on something else. Sometimes, you convicted yourself that she was a robot.

“Yeah?” Your eyes lingered on the board before you drifted to her. “What's up?” you questioned while picking up your water bottle.

“Is there something going on between you and our resident genius?”

Luckily enough, you hadn't drank anything yet or you'd probably have choked up with the accusation.

“What do you mean?” You guped down the water quietly, feeling your neck heat up. Now, she was looking at you, a smirk dancing on her features as if she knew something you didn't.

“You and Reid.” She kept on typing, and clicking clicking clicking. “What happened in the film festival. You went together, right?”

You hummed, turning back to the triangulation process you were trying to finish. There was just one area missing, you couldn't see the pattern but you had a hunch.

“So, what happened?”

“We watched the movie. What else is there to do in a film festival?

Penelope clicked her tongue together, “Uh-uh. I see what you're doing. But watching the movie doesn't give you that stupid smile you have plastered on everytime he's around. And you brought him coffee, I noticed. I saw it.” Well shit. “Not to mention that's not the first time you do that either, missy.” She was pointing her sparkly pen at you and you had to hold yourself back from laughing. That was a threat in Penelope Garcia's style.

“Friends can treat each other, Penelope.”

“Sure they can,” she nodded vehemently. “Just as people on a relationship do as well.”

The heat lifting up your neck was enough for you to curl into yourself in the chair. You pushed a photo into her hands, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I need you to find info about this guy, please. Brian Englebert, I'll go... I have to... yeah.”

Penelope's giggling was the last thing you heard as you left the room.

Falling in love is like a drug addiction.

According to some researches, falling in love with someone gives you the same sensation as feeling addicted does; the release of euphoria and triggering of brain chemicals like dopamine, oxytocin, adrenaline and others. Ergo, the more time you spend with this person, the more addicted you will become.

Spencer knows all about addictions. How it can affect your brain and your life in general. He's also aware that if you just ignore it, without the rightful treatment, it will just proceed to get worse.

Ah, there's also that. Spencer is awfully good in ignoring things. Pretending they aren't there. But when something is imbedded into his brain, continuously causing his synaptic connections to go haywire, he can't just keep ignoring it, can he?

Because looking at you from the bullpen entrance, happily eating your muffins as you surveyed some files in your desk... that made him feel something. That made his heart to want to burst out of his chest. How is this possible? Why is his face heating up? Why is his mouth dry? Is he about to die?

“Wilde was also considered a genius back on his days. I believe that he would also be considered a genius today given his literary accomplishments and the way he spoke loudly about banned topics.” He gulped down the rock in his throat while licking his dry lips. You looked over your shoulder, mid-bite into the muffin when your eyes crinckled up by your smile. At him. You were smiling at him. Were you happy that he was there? Or was he being a nuisance by interrupting your snack break?

He couldn't stop talking and when he was about to begin another monologue, you cut him off.

“You don't believe in the genius terminology, do you?” You spoke, politely cleaning the corners of your mouth with a napkin even if they were perfectly clean. “You've mentioned it before.”

You pay attention to what he says too. How could he not fall for that?

“No,” he says, quietly sitting down in a chair that you had pulled closer to yours. “The methods to classify someone as a genius usually refer to high IQ or when one has great accomplishment in science or related areas.” He declined when you offer a muffin to him, a smile spreading around his face. “There's a lot of people who have made great accomplishments in many other areas, like music or art. They don't get the same recognition though,” he shrugged, fidgeting with his satchel. “I just think it's unfair.”

You nodded, thoughtfully, “That makes sense. I hadn't thought through this perspective yet.” Your attention lowered back to your desk and he thought he had lost your attention until you pulled up a blue post-it. His face reddened immediately. “No other word makes my mouth as tender as your name.” You recited, a warm feeling embracing your heart, when your eyes locked with his, you exhaled softly. “How did you know? I never mentioned this book to you, nor the author.”

It was your favourite book from all times. You had found it in an old bookstore on your hometown, it was your last purchase before you moved away. It's the last memory you made there. You never spoke about it. It's kind of the secret you keep to you from someone you no longer knew but craved once in a while.

“You have it with you all the time,” Spencer said timidly, eyes nervously shifting away from your gaze. “You—You were reading on the jet once and I saw the title and I always see it on your bag when you're fixing it in your desk and—” after a sharp inhale, he started gesticulating with his hands. “Not that I go through your stuff or anything! I saw see it really quick I didn't even touch—”

“Spence.”

“... because it's not mine! And it would be really impolite for me to do so—”

“Spence?”

“I swear I'd never purposely go through your stuff, Y/N—”

“Spencer,” your tone was soft but stern, at least to convey you needed him to stop talking without sounding rude. His lips clipped shut and his cheeks were pink with shame. Rambling. You finally got tired of it, he was waiting for it to finally happen— “Hey. I didn't imply that you went through my stuff,” you said calmly with a smile lifting the corners of your mouth, reaching out to him with your hand. You waited until he grasped yours, a silent request for consent to touch him since you knew he wasn't very fond of it. “I'm just kind of... flattered? That you pay attention. I didn't know I was interesting enough for you to notice these things, Doctor Reid.”

“You're the most interesting person I've ever met.”

He didn't realize until it was out and then he looked down at your hands in embarrassment. You chuckled softly, playing with his fingers on yours. He's so lovely.

“You're the most interesting person I've ever met, too, Spencer.”

He blinked up at you, surprise traveling across his features. “I am? Me?”

Fondness embraced your orbs just as your heart hammered in your chest. Spencer. There's so much you don't know. So much that you've no idea. . .

“Mhm.” You hummed, pulling one of his unruly stands behind his ear. Spencer almost melted when your hand grazed his cheek. “You, Spencer Reid. You've no idea how much I learn with you every day and how it amazes me, don't you?”

Spencer was out of words for the first time in his life.

Your finger trailed down his cheek, the middle of your forehead creasing slightly. “You're amazing.” But you don't know that. You don't realize that. Why?

Air didn't reach his lungs and Spencer felt like hiding and never letting go of you at the same time. Oh, it's been so long since he felt like that. . . It was almost too great to love someone that was good to you. A healthy love — Yes, it is love, he admits it now. He can be a fool no more — It seemed foreign. The idea. Spencer never thought he deserved much than what he had and what he received. But maybe, maybe he did. Could he deserve you?

He decided to be bold. “You—” but Aaron Hotcher cut him off and all his courage went down the drain. Seems like the universe wanted to joke with him. He was a fool, afterall.

“Go home,” Hotch walked by, pointing at the manila files on your desk and then at you and Spencer. “Get some rest, the two of you.”

When you looked around, there was just you and Spencer in the bullpen — and Anderson, because you were sure he never really left the precinct. You'd find all of his stuff somewhere in the pantry — Everyone must have gone home, already. The Bureau was slightly frightening when it was a deserted island. It reminded you a lot of a liminal space.

You obeyed your boss. By the time you cleaned up your desk, Spencer was gone. Disappointment taking over your features. Well, what did you expect? It's not like it was his obligation to wait for you. He wasn't your boyfriend. He wasn't your anything. You had no right to put expectations on him.

Stepping into the parking lot, the cold breeze immediately involved your body. Too bad you had chosen to wear a tank top exactly today. It was warm in the morning!

“Did you know that approximately 28 million people read poetry in America?” You jumped in your spot, gasping at the silhouette beside your car where you were about to get in.

Spencer gave you a little wave.

“You...” a relieved sigh escaped you, shoulders descending. “You scared me, Spencer.”

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, pulling at the strap of his satchel. “Ehm, t-this number doubled up in the age range of 18 to 24. It's proven that—uh, social media actually helped the growth of these numbers. It pushed people's interests into poetry a lot more.”

You stared at him in complete bewilderment. Your mind was working fast to seek out an answer for his rambling, but you were so confused that you just stayed quiet. And he gave you a grimace.

“I'm being weird.” Spencer nodded, “I know. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay—”

“I'm just trying to tell you something— ask, yeah, ask you something but that's what came out. I am so sorry. I should go, yes, I should—”

You leaped forward, surprising even yourself from the move. You had grabbed his wrist and quickly retracted your hand. “Sorry.” you apologized, biting your lip. “I— you can ask, Spencer. I was just a little confused.”

He let out a long sigh, his hands were shaking and they were starting to sweat too. But he told himself that this is when he stops being a fool.

“I'm a mess.” Yes, great way to start. “I'm a mess because I don't know how to stop talking. I don't understand social cues — I'm actually getting better at that — and I'm still scared of the dark. I have to sleep with a lampshade on. That's embarrassing.” his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was holding his shoulder strap. “I'm not great at letting people be there for me because I've been taking care of myself my whole life, I don't see the appeal in letting anyone in, it's too much work. My brain doesn't stop, I'm always thinking and it tires me out. Sometimes I wish it all went silent. I don't have a favourite book, I've read many great ones and I find it unfair with the authors to just choose one. So I don't.” For the first time since he started talking, he breathed in. You took a step forward, expecting him to just crumble down in front of you. Where was he getting with this? You wanted so badly to hug him but you didn't know if he wanted it and you weren't given an opening to ask. He didn't let you. “I don't know how to love.” That made you frown. Before you could retort, he carried on. “I've learned there's no pattern for it and people are different everywhere. I can't plan it, I can't see the numbers. I can't control people because they aren't meant to be controlled.”

Your eyes softened. “No, no they aren't, Spence. And it's okay, you know? You don't have to plan everything.” you finally spoke as he let you. But he didn't seem to be finished so you remained quiet. You didn't expect him to take your hand in his, to which he chuckled nervously at your startled reaction.

“But I think... I think I'm starting to love you.” What was breathing? You never learned. “I'm not sure if that's the right thing to say when I'm trying to ask you out—”

“You want to ask me out?” The failed tone made his face fall and you shook your head vehemently, pulling him towards you. “That's not how I meant it! I just— God, Spencer. Do you want to give me a heart attack?” you exclaimed. “I wasn't expecting this.”

He frowned, looking down at your hands to avoid looking into your eyes. “What were you expecting?”

“Rejection,” you said, earning a look of confusion. Then, enlightenment and them disbelief. It was cute to watch him tech the conclusion. “It was a clear setting in my head so I never tried.”

“Why would I ever reject you? I've lov— I've had a crush on you since the moment you stepped into my sight.” Spencer added, covering his slip-up but you noticed it. You didn't comment on it, you'd wait for the right time. “Do you—does that mean that you feel the same?”

A breathy laugh left your lips. “Oh, Spence.” you approached him slowly, hand raising to his cheek. He leaned in, eyes fluttering shut and you smiled. “I feel more than the same. I feel everything for you.” And I'm starting to love you too.

His eyelashes tinkled against your hand before he lifted his gaze to you, he was trying to avoid breathing just like you were. Afraid this moment would be lost in the wind by a single action. Spencer's eyes drifted down to your mouth.

“Can I—”

“Do it.”

Your lips didn't crashed together. They met in the middle, carefully joining into one space. It didn't felt as if you've been waiting for this — the both of you — it was a perfect pace. That until your body was being pressed against your car and his hands were roaming all over you. You needed to breathe, as much as you didn't want to.

“Hi.” You whispered, cracking a smile as you stared down at his swollen lips. Your hands pressed against his chest.

He sighed, burying his face into the croak of your neck. “Hi.”

A chuckle made your body shake slightly and his hold on you tightened.

“You just kissed me like that and you're suddenly shy?” You teased, fingers caressing the back of his neck. “Is that all an act to make me fall for you? It's working.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled with a shake of his head, leaning back to meet your eyes. You studied the glint in his hazel orbs with a warm feeling spreading on your chest. “I've just— I've wanted to do that for a long time.”

You quickly peck his lips, cupping his face as your features turned serious. Even if you couldn't stop smiling.

“I've wanted to do that just as long, Spencer. Trust me.”

You know when wine makes you less inhibited? A few too many glasses can make you less serious, less controlled. Alcohol causes the oxytocin levels of one's body to increase, which is why people tend to feel more confident and comfortable while drunk. Spencer understood now all of those researches that talked about how being in love can make you feel as if you're drunk. Because he was drunk and he was completely addicted to you at that moment.

“Ask the question, Doctor Reid.” You traced the tip of his nose and chuckled as he scrunched it.

“Ask what question?”

“The one you came after me for.”

“Oh.” you were able to feel his fingers nervously shifting against the exposed skin of your tank top. “I... Mhm.” He gulped, gaze meeting yours apprehensively. “Would you like to go on a date... with me? You don't have to say yes. Don't feel obliged to because—”

“Because you just took all my breath away?” You learnt that you loved to make him blush. “I'd love to go on a date with you, Spencer.” you said softly.

His eyes widened in surprise, “Really?

“Yes.” you assured him, tucking a curl behind his ear. “So, is there another film festival I don't know about?”

His eyes brightened in excitement and you knew he was about to talk your ear off about something. And you couldn't wait for him to start. That was something you could easily get addicted to: his ramblings and his kisses.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N: anybody recognise the book quote on the blue post-it? 👀

━━━━━━━━━━━━

sources: [1] [2]

━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @lilyviolets

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff

330 notes · View notes

onyourhyuck · 1 year

Text

Crimson Lace Part Two.| Mark Lee (M)

Prologue: “I don’t like him around you.” + “You can’t tell me who to not hang around with. And secondly it sounds like you’re jealous.”

Summery: After you slept with Minhyun that night, Mark starts noticing the distance between you and him as you get closer to Minhyun. He grows jealous and becomes angry when you tell him the truth, making him confess sinful things you didn’t know about.

The Warnings: Love Triangle. Mark Lee Twin Tropes. Mark looks like he’s a complete loser in bed but he turns out to be amazing trope >>>. Fem Reader. Jealous and angry! Mark. Twin rivalry. Degrading. Extreme Mean Mark. Edging (so much edging) ice play (ice cubes mentioned a lot) fingering and eating out (Female receiving) begging, Mark has a massive darcyphillia kink. Everythings consensual. Cum play. Thigh riding. Public setting (they’re doing it in university class closet) Nipple play.

The Taglist: @yesohhsehun @chardonnayyyy @dearj43 @jwicore @nuttie-nv-blog @nctzcrime

Cover Credit: @dearj43 tysm<3

THE NOTE: sorry this took so long man. I was very busy. However part 2 is out now <3 enjoy

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s been two weeks since that night you’ve slept with Minhyun and let’s just say you’ve probably done it almost everywhere on campus but the dorms. You tried your best to control it. Try to make things go back to normal with the boy but all it took was one touch from him and things lead to a kiss and another more, it baffled you; with how much Minhyun had this control of you.

He knew how to tick the right boxes physically, sure, but mentally you were somewhere else. You were deeply thinking about Mark, his twin brother, wondering what he would think of you for fucking his brother behind his back.

You’re both scared to confess but you want to confess the truth to him. Unlike Minhyun who shown zero care if he’s railing his brothers crush, you were actually more disheartening about the situation more than anyone right now. You thought if this happened to you you’d be raging with fire in your eyes and demanding revenge. Though, you’re unsure how Mark will react. Mark is mostly a very patient guy. Only a few can tug his patience and test the waters, he’s respectful, friendly and never— and I tell you never gets angry. It’s like he’s perfect. A totally chill, laidback and nice guy.

But today it felt quite the opposite in your class. Writing away on your lined paper the front work essay to do in class, every student in the lecture room was doing the same thing. Trying their best to analysis their view point and perception of Oscar Wilde. You weren’t the biggest fan of Wilde but you do have to admit he does have classical literature. Something you could never forget no matter what. Your cheeks become hollow as you suck in your final breathe before pressing the pen down on the table, finishing the last structural paragraph needed to be done. Your conclusion was the best if you’d have to say so yourself.

Mark caught up with you leaving the class. You’re outside walking up the pathway to the girl dormitory. Something you recently signed up for and moved into. You don’t have a roommate yet, but that’s okay. Honestly you prefer the large dormitory to yourself. As Mark suddenly cuts off your pathway, with an expression you dearly avoided for so long till it finally contacts you.

“Y/n we need to talk.” Mark huffs, out of air.

You look up at the man with a raised eyebrow. “Mark I’m really busy with—“

“Fucking my brother?” He suddenly cuts your sentence off leaving your chest to rise, going tighter and tighter leaving little to no oxygen surpassing through your protected lungs. You felt your world stop and crash instantly like a car has ran into you in the five dimensional realm. You weren’t sure how he came up with that idea, but you knew he was correct. You were cornered by him. Questioned by Mark’s suspicion. For whatever evidence he has. You told yourself to come clean, telling yourself now’s the chance to fully address the issues you’ve done. The bad sins you’ve done behind Mark’s knowledge.

Your voice came out like a murmur. “I’m sorry Mark, I was planning to tell you.” Mark heard you say, though all he could look at was the images of you naked, possibly aroused and more, god, how badly he wished it was him who did those things to you. Minhyun took the pleasure of telling him every fucking detail; the way your moans were so disconnected because you cannot speak while fingered by him deep inside your cunt. He described the way your hair gets messy in the cutest way possible. Minhyun didn’t spare Mark the heinously bragging, what fun was that if he did not? He wants to see Mark rage. He wants to see Mark explode with infuriating frustration that he lost you. His dreams and feelings flat out rejected even though he didn’t confess to you.

All the boy could do was lean back and grab forward your wrist with those boba-like eyes, resembling a round onyx seed. A hint of honey brown flicks in those eyes when bright light slants on the wide iris’ it always makes you so mesmerised. It was only simple brown eyes but the way he looks at you through them, the way you see yourself through his eyes makes your tamed heart skipper quicker than anything in this world. Which heartbeat got faster and faster the more he pressed your wrist in his palm in a harshly given gripping hold, he did not spare you the weakness nor mercy. His voice taunts your skin like a shadowed mercenary ready to kill you while you’re unaware.

“A sorry cannot cut out for the way Minhyun purposely tortured me with the details of your beautiful, romantic night, Y/n.”

He sorely refused your apology leaving you to stand there in middle of nowhere outside the all girl’s dormitory awkwardly as the space minute by minute closes like a maze.

“I don’t like him around you.” Mark trailing with a softer growl containing jealousy that you won’t ever prescribe . It felt more than a normal amount of Jealousy.

It was envy. It was the need to be superior than the other. It was the over-loading amount of covetousness that the boy has for you, it felt like an addiction. You were his wrong addiction with no rehabilitation enough to provide Mark to save himself from your magnetic field.

Mark dislikes the way Minhyun claims he has you wrapped round his fingers yet he doesn’t know the way you have Mark chained to you spiritually. The way your bodies speak in such a hidden language from your conscious mind, gently paving your way, as your eyes tremble to the hold.

Your lips fell from this blank thin line to a sudden choke scoffing softly out your beautiful heart shape mouth, your minds were repeatedly thinking that. “You can’t tell me who to not hang around with.”

You pause staring blankly at him.

“And secondly it sounds like you’re jealous.” You strike at him with your indifferent tone. Mark was indeed bothered by the fact that you and Minhyun have gotten closer, have ended up with a physical relationship. He was jealous and he didn’t dare hide it in his voice or bodily language.

“I’m not fucking jealous I’m more than that.” The grip on your wrist tightens as he pulls your bodies inside the dormitory. “I’m wishing it was me with you that night doing those dirty things, Y/n. Call me jealous all you want but I had my eyes on you first. Minhyun could careless about you.” He adds snarking. “Don’t whore for him who can’t even memorise your Starbucks-go-to order and your favourite movie of all times.”

It’s the way he knows your future moves and the next step seeps to be inebriated, you were left alone staring at Mark deeply who’s chest risen up aloof. Your tongue was bitten down against your teeth harshly as you chew on your words, mentally planning your next dialogue. Just about when you open your mouth, “Mark this is ridiculous-” Mark cuts in right again, leaving you down and flat with your dimmed voice.

“Shut the fuck up.” Mark brushes as the palms creep on your face with their cold temperatures solitudes your warm heated face growing warmer by the way his lips crash on to yours giving them the quickest peck, before fully interrogating your mouth as his own home. His tongue slips in with a barge and a venom to strike. Teeth brush against your soft skin layering your lips to picker and become swollen. Your breathe was harsh and a gasp escaped you. Mark wasn’t trying to be gentle. In fact he was simply rough round the edges, like he had enough of you and your stupidity, that he will finally explode and show you just how much he wants you, how much he loves and wishes to be with you and only you. It’s nothing Minhyun could ever compare to, as your emotions were in the way, but Mark was so much physically intending to use you now.

“Mark- Mark please, slow down, we can’t be doing this…”

He was whispering such degrading terms you weren’t sure how to process. It started off with telling you to be quiet, in which you didn’t oblige to. Your voice came off with multi-stuttering in between the kiss. His fingertips gracefully graze down your jawline and reaching your neck where he grabs you firmly on it before pushing you inside the girl dormitory building. He lead you against a wall pushing you down on it. His voice darkens line an abyss wanting to suck you in and trap you there for eternity and more. “Don’t say anything. Let me indulge a little more before you leave.” He achingly told you, as if it hurt to say. Your reddish swollen lips turned red and you couldn’t believe but feel the way his drunk sad eyes longing on you,

You whisper softly. “I’m not going anywhere.” As Mark leans closer adjusting himself to close the gap between your chest and his. “Don’t get my hopes up.” Mark warns leaning down capturing a passionate and helpless kiss to you, but this time you’ve returned it with just as much eagerness he couldn’t compete with.

He knew you were never going to choose him. He knows Minhyun has stolen your heart and made it his own home before he could, and he only has himself to blame for losing you to his own twin brother. He was late. He was slow and too scared for ruining your friendship between you, Mark often stays up late at night thinking to himself that he should’ve made the first move. He should’ve confessed. He shouldn’t be a coward but he did become one at the end of the day. The moment Minhyun slept with you, he lost a part of himself. He lost all self-control.

You want to tell him you won’t ever leave him. That Minhyun and you sleeping was a simple mistake that you enjoyed and wish to keep on the low, that you’re not interested in dating his brother — you wish to tell him this but all you could focus solely on was the way he was kissing you as if it was his last dying wish. You weren’t sure how far it was going to go, but you felt yourself lose control and all together you grip on his neck finally adjusting to it all. You want Mark.

You came to a conclusion that you want Mark now. Your voice came off as a surprise, if anything, it came off as a dropped off bomb combusting a large sparking ember in his heartbroken heart. “Let’s take it to my dorm…” you said with no shame.

With a nod you were leading Mark inside your dorms welcoming the man in with your bodies aching desperately for each other. The door slams shut and Mark had all his strength pinning you down on your bed gasping in the rough kiss marking your swollen mouth. He was gaping at your body, squeezing his fingers on your clothes and under the fabric crewing on your empty skin practically screaming for him to dirty it, to use you, each time it reminds him of the way you look right now telling that this might be the first and very much the last time he shall ever have the chance of sleeping with you. He must savour the opportunity. Seize the opportunity of all opportunities. And he did.

He did do exactly that when the way he stripped you naked before he shown all his skin in front of you. Your breasts were kneading round like they were his personal items, shifting in your bodies flat on your belly. As his lips press on your shoulder and back. He squeezed at your hips, hoarsely whispering to you; “Lift your hips up for me darling.” It gnaws at your subconscious to hear this man, the man who’s always been your friend, respectful and kind to you was completely out of the picture now that he’s treating you with so much rough and rawly strengths, it purged you with sinful thoughts because it turns you to see him so… berserk. Your lower body arches to his demands and Mark reaches to squeeze your ass before spanking it.

Your voice comes through the pillows that Mark purposely buried your face in. You couldn’t see what he’s looking at but you felt his stare on you everywhere. “Good girl. Always so obedient for me aren’t you? Such a good girl.” He knows how to get you riled up with words. He doesn’t even need to touch you to get you going. The clothes on your body did not last a second on you it was a whole new situation with Mark it even surprised you how well he was good at undressing you from head to toe. The lower clothing came off like it was a slipper from your feet. His fingers weren’t the only thing good at taking clothes off. They were starting to please you down below occasionally slipping out your underwear to the side so his fingers can slide deep inside your wet cunt which was soaking for him.

Mark was pleasantly surprised by how wet you were and his thoughts tread on to his twin brother wondering if he was going through back getting you more wet than this. If this was how soaking you are for him than you must be a waterfall when this continues. He is determined to be better than his brother. Better for you and better for himself. If he lives down as the worse brother in bed he would rather have hell take him back and never come out. As your cunt slowly sinks breathing in his fingers he starts to finger you with a medium length pace causing every wall in you to tighten and loosen just round his shape of the fingers going in and out. The second finger slips in and Mark can hear you moan out more at this rate it was only furling him to continue and add the third finger; your voice becomes slightly louder when your hand covers your mouth to shut it down. He smirks seeing you become so self aware of how you sound so pretty and helpless like a little lamb in the open.

Your body shivers when the ice cube melts on your stomach as he kept pressing on it on the skin. Your lips pull away from his as he looks down at you darkly. “Is it cold?” He slants at you and you could only dumbly nod. Mark smirks. “Good, that’s the point.” His voice lingers as he lifts his hand with an ice cube pushing it to your lips.

You look up at the ice cube and then at him again. “Suck on it.” He orders from you and you couldn’t resist leaning into the cube sucking on it letting it melt on your tongue. He would watch fascinated by the heavenly sight.

Mark stares into you so deep in your eyes refusing to break the minimal eye contact even though he is fingering you so hard to the point your thighs are shaking and hugging side to side with how much he was ramming in you he never once broke away. You couldn’t help but moan as you watch him. He didn’t make you look away at all and if you did he would punish you with a spank to the thighs or to your ass it was unbelievably hot however it made you feel things you did not before. Mark whispers seeing you come close. “That’s right baby keep those eyes on me and come on my fingers Hm? I can feel you throbbing so much around my fingers.” He’d tell you describing every little detail about how your body was round him and you couldn’t believe how arousing it was. You ache jolting a little as you push against his fingers. Mark stops moving them as he saw the juice spewing out and at awe taking them out of you.

He’d lick the remaining juice out of you on his fingers clean off not leaving anything behind. He was staring at you as he did so and you relax there stunned by how he could look so good doing something so dirty? You couldn’t even figure out an answer. It was just a Mark Lee thing. But this wasn’t the end. Mark did not get enough of you and he pushed you down to the side to make you lay down where he forcefully re opens your legs splitting them apart like they were a piece of candy and as he did so his mouth comes to attack you with his tongue on your soaking cunt. He was eating you out and the juices on his tongue tasting so good. It was better than his imagination. It couldn’t compare to his lewdness thoughts. The real deal was the best part.

You weren’t sure how to deal with all this pleasure you couldn’t simple handle all of this but knowing it’s Mark you couldn’t bring the urge to push him away. The pleasure was just something you were hunting down all the time. In disbelief as how fast he was eating you out like he was going through a whole decade of starvation it made you also screaming into your hand. Mark wanted people to hear you however. He wanted you to get caught. He loved the idea of Minhyun coming round and walking in on you with him on your bed knowing it isn’t him. Knowing it’s not his brother. Knowing he got a taste of you it will surely piss his brother off too to see you look so beautiful with him in this rightful moment.

“I… I can’t take it anymore Mark— please— please please can i come?” Your voice was as clueless as a little wren walking around the lonely road. Mark looks up from your wet cunt covering in the saliva and your lubricant ghostly smirking above your clit. Mark’s mouth softly perks up kissing your clit and kissing down again. You shiver at his silent response.

He was taunting you slowly. “Hmm…you can take some more y/n. I know you can. If you can take my brother all night why can’t you take me Hm?” His head tilts so condescendingly at you and your eyes clench tight watering at the pleasure ending just to start again to edge her body into nonexistence. His mind wonders of to you laying down Mark suddenly shifts on the bed seeing how you were pleading for a release. How about he gives you one?

Mark sits on the edge and you look up seeing him pull away suddenly and act as if nothing has happened. He motions you with his finger pointing you up and you sit up slowly coming forward to him. His hand pats his thigh as his dark gaze shines straight at you. “Do you want to cum, Y/n?” His voice strikes you down but you nod in response. Mark hums trailing. “Then ride my thigh and make yourself cum on it.” Mark was making you do the work if you want it so badly.

You felt your skin shiver as you tried to wobble over to his thug pushing your wet pussy on the fabric on his clothes. He was barely dressed but the dry fabric pressing to your womanhood was enough to make you squelch and slowly thrusting your thighs on the area made you want to squeeze Mark’s shoulders down in a heavy way. Mark watches you struggle and he loves the view he was getting just seeing how much you were working for the release. The way your thighs and cunt were grinding on his leg was enough to make him aroused at the sight. You were whimpering all sorts of noises out of your mouth. It made his ears only long for more and more.

He laughs watching you shake already and you only just started riding his thigh. He wraps his hands round your hips pushing it further down to his thigh making you squirm and groan at the sensation of you harshly climaxing on his thigh now bursting out a long streak of water and tears going down your cheeks. “Atta’ girl. Look at you finishing on my thigh so quickly… and you crying…” He carries on darkly chuckling. He was laughing at you, but in such a twisted way you couldn’t help wonder where did the Mark you know was? “You’re such a pretty crier. How about you cry for me some more as i fuck the absolute shit out of you.”

And you did. You were bawling with each thrust in that his thick and wide cock buried deep in you as his body was quenching you underneath hardening and moulding your body into his own temple was just as amazing as the pleasure his cock provided to your womb, ramming and splattering in you widening your spine and back letting your body fall and break into pieces just so he could fix you up and move you like he wants you. He had you in so many different positions in just a few minutes he has you squirming begging for more and more and more; Mark can only give so much and he did give you his all where he had you screaming his name.

Chanting his name more like as if it were a mantra. Mark could only wish he can have this on repeat and recorded forever on. You sigh forward with your soft moans humming about into the bedsheets as Mark had you lift your hips up to go on all fours . Your head was buried deep on the bedsheets and pillows where you can barely breathe but the overwhelming pleasure has you slipping out. “P-Please fill me up Mark. I beg you. I bet you Mark.” You we’re pleading so nicely it was almost tempting. Mark smirks pulling your head up by grabbing handful of your hair lifting you this way so he can whisper into your ears.

One hand was roaming your stomach that you were arching in the all four position. “Yeah you want to be filled? You want me to put a baby inside you? Want me to show everyone how much of a whore you are?” You whimper closing your eyes shut as tears come out. He smirks watching them slip out. “That’s right cry some more. It will make me finish quicker.” He growls throwing your head back on the pillows ramming deep in you leaving your womb feeling a warm stretching sensation.

It continues until a liquid was speedily put inside you at a sudden rate leaving you stunned at how good it felt to have Mark finish deep within you letting a string of his come stay in you as he did for a while. He pants heavily as his hands press down on your back. He helps you turn around where he grabs your neck gently but kissing you so roughly speaking against your swollen lips. “Guess who was hearing us behind the door all this time…?”

You couldn’t believe your ears at first until Mark stares straight ahead of you and your eyes widen at the sight. Mark pulls the phone outta the pocket of his jeans scattering on the floor where you stare at the contact name ‘Lee Minhyun’ on the screen phone. Your gaze turns back to the door seeing a shadow outside the dorm door.

“You… called him over on your phone…”

Mark smirks back at you. “That’s right. This will show him who you truly love and belong to.”

He turns around pointing at the crimson lace that you wore before. “Oh by the way… you should wear this Crimson Lace more often. It suits you.”

NCT SMUT FICS.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Please reblog the fic and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out.

380 notes · View notes

jarviscockerssecrethusband · 30 days

Text

One thing I love about the harringrove fandom is the agreement both that Steve is dyslexic and Billy is a MASSIVE reader.

Because while Steve’s always been surrounded by teachers or his parents or exes who either believe that he’s incapable of appreciating reading or that he just doesn’t care, Billy thinks that’s bullshit.

Because when Billy gets told to tutor Steve in English, he doesn’t start with a book for toddlers or fucking Shakespeare. They start with Billy reading him Wuthering Heights.

And at first Steve does not fucking get it. He doesn’t understand the plot, the message and especially not the dialect. But he finds himself enjoying it a lot. Billy’s a natural storyteller. He could be on stage.

Billy’s taste in books is both eclectic and weird. He’s reading Finnigan’s Wake for fun. In Irish. He likes Portuguese romance books and German surrealism and a lot of George Orwell. So much so that Steve kind of feels that love rubbing off on him.

He’d used to like reading. Before he was told he was doing it wrong. And even though he despised the books set by Hawkins High with every fibre of his being, there was this fire set in his belly, a want to impress Billy.

So he starts with The Hobbit. Eddie “Freak” Munson’s the only other dyslexic Steve knew and he loved that shit. How hard could it be?

The Hobbit is fucking difficult. It starts with a map, Steve thinks is in Elvish and some of the chapters feel like they go on forever. The words still bounce around the page and switch constantly. He likes it though. It’s weirdly fun as a story and he finds himself rooting for Bilbo.

Henderson can never know. That is the one thing Steve is certain of.

Billy doesn’t laugh when Steve tells him that’s what he’d decided to start with. He just rolls his eyes, not meanly and says he used to read that with his mom. Back in Cali. Before Neil fucked everything up.

Billy reads a lot of Oscar Wilde. The Importance of Being Earnest is constantly tucked into his back, dog eared and well loved. Steve knows enough about Oscar Wilde to know what that indicates.

Billy’s a poof. A faggot. A queer.

Billy is like Steve.

He doesn’t have the courage to look out for anything gay. Nothing even that hints at the matter. Steve knows that his dad has The Iliad tucked away in his office. He’s away on business while his mom sits in the kitchen and complains about America. Even after 15 years in the States, she still misses Poland.

His daring heist after she goes to bed leads to him sitting on the kitchen floor, crying about Achilles and Patroclus. Billy’s right, classics are a fucking bummer.

Steves not as stupid as other people think. He knows that if this were a book, him and Billy are hurtling towards deaths door. Even in real life, he’s seen the guys on tv, worn down to the bone on hospital beds.

Gay does not equal a happy ending.

He resolves to never touch The Iliad again.

Billy comes to their next session with a black eye and his mullet chopped off. They don’t talk about it.

1984 is depressing. And surprisingly apt for how Steve feels that his 1984 has gone. He does feel like he’s constantly being watched. Like being in love is illegal. Like saying anything too far against the government will have consequences.

Steve asks if Billy thinks Orwell wrote 1984 about America or Russia. Billy snorts but doesn’t answer.

That’s the note they end on for the year.

Christmas comes and goes. So does New Year. Two months of not seeing Billy aches in his gut.

Then he comes back.

It’s the middle of February. Billy’s been kicked out for a week. Steves playing nursemaid.

He’s beaten up pretty bad. Still, Billy insists he’s had worse.

Steve hedges around asking why it happened. Like the confirmation might suddenly make the full scope of their plight real.

Still, eventually Steve asks. Billy looks at him like he’s particularly simple.

He’s gay. Obviously Steve. And he actually has the balls to go out there, meet men, dance. Even if it does mean getting caught by Neil.

During his explanation, Steve notices they’ve gotten closer together. Like significantly closer.

They’re grazing hands. Electric.

Then Billy moves.

Billy kisses him and Steve’s world turns into a fucking supernova.

They kiss and it doesn’t make Neil vanish in a puff of smoke, it doesn’t make the shopkeepers who sneer at his mother go away, it doesn’t make Steve magically able to read.

But it does make Steve feel like maybe they’ll survive.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #dyslexic steve harrington #tw homophobic language #tw abuse

61 notes · View notes

darerendevil · 3 months

Text

🔊

Breandán Ó Murchú said that while the media was obsessed with the success being enjoyed by his son Cillian at present, and while that was fine, there was more to it than that.

“There are so many things happening in the world, that we should be sensible about these things and that’s what he’s saying himself as well,” said Breandán.

“We’re very pleased with him and very happy that he’s getting on so well.”

When the news came through, Cillian was at home with his parents. “We were all here, there are four of us and each is as important to us as the other, we were all together and we had a cup of tea and the story came and we were delighted.”

Cillian’s father admitted to not being fond of the fuss or ‘puililiú’ that comes with his son’s fame but recalled his son’s early interest in drama during the interview.

“He was always lively, a lovely little fellow, full of chat, and he always liked to have an adventure going on in his imagination constantly – he was full of spirit and life and imagination.

“He loved being in the company of other children and I’d say he made up a lot of stories and they did a lot of wild things from time to time – he was very mature as a young person and, I’d say, when he was at school he annoyed a teacher or two as he found it difficult to sit still while in national school, you know the way with young lads.”

His early interest was in music and the rhythm of music, his father noticed. “It’s interesting that, as he grew older, he showed an interest in the old ‘Fiannaíocht’ stories about Diarmuid and Gráinne, that surprised me.

"Anything that was exaggerated or larger than life, he enjoyed that, and I suppose there’s a link between that and drama, I don’t know.”

His father recalled that Cillian didn’t seem to be very interested in his studies during the year but when he set his mind to it, he did very well in exams and so on. “He didn’t want to spend all his time studying and when he went to Presentation College, they were very good, there were one or two in particular who noticed his interest in literature and that he had an aptitude for writing.

"When they had a band, they gave Cillian and his friends an opportunity to go on stage, and there were a few people who helped him on, including the author Billy Wall.

“Cillian was lucky to meet him, he was also very interested in history.

“I don’t think he showed an interest in acting until he met Pat Kiernan and the gang in Corca Dorcha. “He told me then that he saw Clockwork Orange on stage and this had an enormous impact on him. “He said somewhere that we didn’t bring him to the theatre when he was young but he forgot that he had three younger siblings and that made it more difficult to go to plays.

“If I was starting again with him, I’d bring him to more plays because it’s clear that he had a deep interest.”

Meeting Pat Kiernan and Enda Walsh gave Cillian the confidence he needed to immerse himself in theatre, his father said. “He got the taste for it and followed his heart, he knew then this is what he wanted to do.

“He didn’t want to do it for publicity or anything, he just wanted to do it right, I must give him that.”

Mr Ó Murchú said that Cillian wanted to do things right and that was something that pleased his father. “That’s something you wouldn’t expect from young people – you know yourself about boys, he’d lose school bags and other things like all young lads but when he put his mind to it, you’d know he wanted to do it right and that helped him enormously.”

When Cillian made his breakthrough with the stage production of Disco Pigs, he was still a Law student in UCC and his parents were getting conflicting advice from different sources saying that he should pursue his career in theatre as he was so obviously talented, while others were saying that he would be foolish to abandon his studies for the stage.

They saw him on stage in his first production, Frank McGuinness’ Observe the Sons of Ulster. “He was very good in that, I thought, though I didn’t think he was better than others in the play or anything like it but we knew he was very serious and then Disco Pigs was a revelation for us because it was on a different level entirely.

“Pat and Enda, it was clear that they were on a different level as they were so creative, himself and Eileen Walsh, the professionalism of that work amazed us and there was no stop to him after that and he met with very nice people who helped him on the road and they helped him.

“We’re very pleased entirely for him, I don’t like to say we’re proud of him because it’s his achievement, not ours,” he said.

“We brought him into the world and we did our best but we don’t see at all that we had a hand in the work that he’s doing at present but we’re not going to lose our wits and neither is he.

“We don’t like to make too much fuss about him, he’s got a job like the sons and daughters of other people and the difference, he gets a lot of publicity. “All the same we’re so happy for him and pleased.”

He said that he and his wife were in an empty cinema when they went to a 5pm screening to see him on the big screen and were very impressed. Mr Murphy is looking forward to seeing Cillian’s newest film, Small Things Like These, which is based on a Clare Keegan book and said that his son learned a lot on the Ken Loach film, The Wind That Shakes the Barley.

“I remember he came home one evening after filming and he was very worried about something that happened during that day’s filming, as if it were something that really happened, and that’s down to how immersed in the work he was and the methods of Ken Loach, that work came from the heart for that movie, I felt.” He said that film allowed people, including Cillian’s mother’s people and his own family who were involved, to talk about that period.

At home, Cillian will talk about anything before he will talk about the movies and while his parents ask him questions from time to time, and he answers them, they don’t want to fuss too much.

As for going to the Oscars, Breandán and his wife don’t intend to travel. “If he’s nominated for a BAFTA, we will go there as it’s closer to home and when he comes home from the Oscars, we will make him a cake.”

#Cillian Murphy #Breandán Ó Murchú #The Wind That Shakes the Barley #Interview #Oscars #Oscar #Small Things Like These #Awn

59 notes · View notes

ravensmadreads · 10 months

Text

Positive Reinforcement

Rating: T? (for me being a Tease) 18+ !

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!reader

Summary: oh god don't make me do this. This is a Tattoo Artist Jack Daniels AU that @fuckyeahdindjarin lovingly coaxed me to write and now here we are.

Warnings: cursing. bad writing? People being idiots? Yearn? Idk fam I'm new to this let me know

A/N: lots of love to @barbiewritesstuff for listening to me panic about this and for reading this and for letting me be a disaster about pedro despite not even being in the pedro fandom ! ily 💙 also this is my first fic AND first time writing fiction AND English isn't my first language AND I know nothing about tattoo artists or tattoos in general so I ask you to forgive the multitude of sins I'm about to commit.

Tagging: @fuckyeahdindjarin (you're the master and this is my humble offering) @barbiewritesstuff (i gotta be a menace) @chronic-ghost (all the italics for you bby) @sherala007 @oscar-wilde-thing @perennialdoll247

P.S the gif isn't related to the fic but damn guys its a gorgeous gif?!!

Oh.

Oh God.

This was a bad idea.

This was a no good, top of the line, terribly stupid idea; and that was saying something coming from someone who'd once pulled a double shift on nothing but 7 cups of espresso and half a chocolate bar.

So maybe your track record for making sensible decisions wasn't stellar, and somebody should've talked you out of getting a tattoo. But it was far too late for that now.

The needle was buzzing away happily; stabbing tiny pinpricks into your skin and your heart was trying to beat itself clean out of your chest. Although, the very handsome man, with the very wonderful biceps, and the inexplicably sexy Stetson, currently leaning over your arm might have something to do with that. Might have several somethings to do with that in fact since he's the entire reason you're in this predicament in the first place.

****

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels.

Proud owner of the tattoo parlor right across from the quaint little diner you co-owned and worked at. He'd given you a grin and taken your breath clean away with a "thank you darlin', that's mighty sweet of you" the day you'd welcomed him to the block with a box of cookies. Sufficient to say, you'd been a goner since then.

After four months of long distance pining, smiles exchanged across windows, (you'd dropped a fork the first time he'd grinned at you from across the street but that was nobody's business but your own), the very rare small talk, and borderline bullying from your bestie Ginger, you had summoned the courage to go ask him out. And promptly panicked at his front door.

Because how were you supposed to talk to one of the most perfect specimens of the male species you'd ever seen? When you knew next to nothing about him!?

Except for his coffee order from when he'd walked into the diner one fateful day.

It had been a slow day and you had been lamenting your lack of love life with Ginger when the front door bell had jingled to announce a new customer.

You'd twirled on your spot in front of the cashier and had been well in the middle of your welcome spiel before glancing up. Jack, in his infamous leather jacket, had been giving you a warm smile and you'd made a strangled squeak, to Gingers great amusement, before closing your eyes and trying to disappear into the Earth.

When that had failed, you'd taken a deep breath, counted to 5, before opening your eyes and regaining the ability to speak. He'd watched the entire thing with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes but graciously hadn't called you out on it. His parting smile and "you have a great day, honey" had been soft and you had caught yourself grinning about that smile, and that stupidly adorable pet name, throughout the entire next week.

Still, one coffee order and gentle smile didn't mean you could walk up to him and ask him out! He could be in a relationship! He could be married! He could turn out to be a total prick hiding behind a charmingly soft Southern accent!

Although, in that case, this little crush would be over and you could tell Ginger to suck it. Your mental spiral into the abyss had been interrupted by the door opening and the man of the hour himself poking his head out; his brows knit in concern.

"Everythin' okay, sugar?"

The sight of his brown eyes so close to you had thrown you for a loop. You'd gaped at him for half a minute before blurting out the first excuse that came to mind. You vaguely remember convincing him that you were here for a tattoo and rambling about always wanting one and him opening up shop right in front of you, seeming like a sign from the universe. (A sign that you were losing it? Maybe. A sign to get a tattoo. Probably not.)

He had taken your weird behavior as first time jitters and had led you in for a consult. He'd eased you into the shop, a hand on the small of your back, while recounting the story about how a drunk tattoo had earned him his infamous nickname. You'd been giggling too hard to notice that he'd already sat you down on a couch in the back and pulled out a sketchpad.

He had been all soft smiles and twinkling eyes and thoughtful ideas. While you had been a bundle of nervous energy; trying and failing to not stare at his pretty eyes, long fingers and sharp jaw. You're pretty sure he'd caught you checking gaping at his hands several times. But nothing in his demeanor had changed, apart from the appearance of a mischievous little sparkle in his eyes. Which had only made it harder to resist the urge to jump his bones right then.

You ended up agreeing to a small design (that you had totally fallen in love with), and he had given you an appointment for the very next day. Your protests had failed at his insistence and you'd just been able to nod around the lump in your throat when he squeezed your arm in reassurance.

"Trust me darlin', you're in safe hands. I know what I'm doin'.

A furtive glance at said hands and another nod from you had sealed the deal. (Best keep your mouth shut until you were sure that words were going to make it out instead of embarrassing whimpers.) He'd smiled at you as he walked you out with a particularly devious look in his eyes. Like he knew. Like he knew exactly why you were here and insisting on getting a tattoo. And you couldn't decide if that would be the best or worst thing to ever happen to you.

****

It was too late to do anything but reminisce now. The tattoo is halfway done and you're not one to brag but you'd made it through without too much fuss. A particularly vicious stab has you hitching a deep breath as you try not to flinch and suddenly, Jack's locking those soft eyes with you.

"You gotta stay still now, sweetheart okay?” he rumbles, his voice low and throaty.

Oh God.

That voice.

He could tell you to jump in front of a train with that voice and you wouldn't even blink. Your gaze drops to his mouth as his tongue peaks out to dart across those plush lips. You're caught up in the images of that tongue flicking out and tangling with yours. Figuring he'd be sweet at first; gentle and soft, with just the tiniest bit of pressure. Before licking hard and playfully biting your lower lip as he pulls away. Grinning that mischievous half smirk that makes you want to grab fistfuls of his hair and yank-

He clears his throat and you fall back to Earth. Gulping, your eyes meet his amused stare and you nod cheerfully in response, trying not to be completely transparent. Apparently you fail miserably, because Jack just sends a knowing smirk your way before carrying on.

"That's a good girl."

Oh.

Oh God.

This was such a bad idea.

You were going to explode right in this seat.

The hum of the needle starts again and you try to shift your focus. Your gaze draws, as always, to the man bent over you; his broad fingers encircling your arm and gently holding it in place. His eyes laser focused on the design. Your gaze moves to ogle his broad shoulders and the way the muscles ripple under the leather jacket covering him. He tilts his neck and you trace the skin trying to pinpoint the exact point you'd like to sink your teeth in. Okay enough! Suffice it to say, you definitely wouldn't mind being under him in a different context.

You nearly squirm at the thought of his broad body on top of yours, but catch yourself just in time. Wouldn't be out of character for you to mess up your first tattoo right near the finish line. That would be quite the story. 'O hey, nice tattoo, what's that squiggle at the bottom?' 'Oh. Yea I was just picturing getting cracked like a glow stick by my tattoo artist when he had a needle on my skin.'

You hold back a flinch and wriggle in the seat when Jack raises the needle from your skin to start a different line. Those caramel tinted eyes rise from the half etched pattern on your bicep and fix onto you as he looks over with a raised eyebrow.

“Behave darlin’,” he coos. “We're nearly there. You’ve been doin’ so well for me. Let’s not get carried away now.”

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This was a really bad idea.

You gulp and grit your teeth and nod for him to continue. You're thinking of kittens taking baths, ice cream in the park, that absolutely terrible but totally worth it for the eye candy vampire movie you'd seen last weekend, and how bad your issues with yourself had to be for you to get something permanently etched into your skin than tell a handsome man that you might like him. Mentally shaking your head at yourself, you glance over to see how much of the tattoo was left. Which turned out to be a mistake.

"Ack!" You cry out.

Fist clenching and arm twitching immediately, as you watch the needle touch a sensitive part of your skin, and you flinch badly. Jack lifts the needle and fixes you with a stern half glare. But there's a twinkle in his eye that has you giving him a sheepish grin.

"Whoops?"

You pout at him, with a teasing tilt of your head. He chuckles and your eyes flicker to his lips for a beat too long. When you look up, Jack's smirk has turned roguish as he catches you shamelessly checking him out. Again.

Oh no.

"Maybe you just need some positive reinforcement sweetheart, hm?"

Before you can even process the statement, he has already shut the needle off.

"Such misbehavin', darlin'."

He tuts at you before leaning down and pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth. He smells like leather. And a soft cologne. Both of which assault your senses; hints of pine mixed with sandalwood and something inexplicably him wraps around you, and it is dangerously delicious. His tongue darts out to have the tiniest taste as his mustache tickles the corner of your lips. Before you can restore the brain power needed to tilt your head, and maybe pull him on top of you by the lapels of his jacket, tattoo be damned, he's already pulling away.

"Fuck me."

The whimper that leaves you is entirely involuntary.

He grins at your flustered face as the needle starts again. His grip on your arm tightens and you squirm for entirely different reasons as he winks at you.

"Absolutely. But only if you're good and hold still now sugar."

Your jaw drops. There's nothing but static in your brain.

Wait.

Did he just- ?

Oh God.

"Be good for me now honey. 'M almost done. And then we can see about rewardin' good behavior."

Fuck.

This was the best idea you'd ever had.

****

#jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #whiskey x reader #not a agent whiskey person #< this used to be an actual tag and now here we are #yeeting this into the void and running tf away

103 notes · View notes

alastairstom · 10 months

Text

Another post pointed out yesterday that the Clave was so progressive in the 1800s and (especially) 1900s while being incredibly regressive in the 2000s-2010s. This is inarguably true. It also inarguably is true to real life when it comes to views on homosexuality. While male homosexuality was illegal in the UK during the Victorian/Edwardian eras, many (though not all) people tended to turn a blind eye to it assuming that everyone involved minded their business. (Oscar Wilde, for a relevant example, was pretty widely known as being a man who loved other men. He probably would have been able to carry on as he was if not for suing a powerful and influential public figure. But I digress).

Also, it's important to note that, yeah, the TLH kids' parents were overall loving and accepting people. The one who was not such a person blessedly died before his son came out. On the other hand, Alec's parents were in a literal hate cult. But once again, digression.

Because what I really want to talk about are Shadowhunter's shifting attitudes to technology and innovation. I would like to posit that Christopher Lightwood's death was the beginning of the downfall of innovation in Shadowhunter society.

In TID, Henry contends with mockery and side glances because of his drive to invent and create. This makes sense in what his son will later describe as an "arid warrior culture." However, while generally labeled as an eccentric, the Clave - including the Consul and Inquisitor - generally leave him alone to tinker and build. No one stops him. And when he finally invents the Portal, no one shirks it. By the time TLH rolls around, it's a widely-used, widely-respected part of Shadowhunter society. It's ingrained in the fabric of their people just as steles and seraph blades are, and we still see them widely in use in the modern day.

Now, we get to Christopher, Henry's protigee.

It's important to acknowledge that Christopher may have been left alone in part because Henry's Portal was so successful. With him primarily hanging about in the Fairchild lab, nothing could go wrong. Additionally, Charlotte was Consul, and she knew how brilliant her husband was. This probably contributed to Christopher's success greatly.

Christopher grows up shrouded in this love. He is free to create and innovate as he pleases, and he comes up with the idea for fire-messaging. We see him successfully invent fire-messages by early 1904, at which point he is tragically killed by Belial.

Fire-messages are the final piece of technology that we see invented before the TMI era. All other technologies in the modern TSC canon exist in the historical stories. Thus, we can conclude that Christopher's fire-messages are one of the last creations of Shadowhunter society.

(ADHD side ramble: I'm interested to see what Grace manages to accomplish, but I cannot think of something in the modern TMIverse that she may have created. I imagine that her status as not only a woman but a widely-disliked social pariah held her back. Hate it, but my point stands. I hope she's at least given a small amount of credit for the final touches on the fire-messages.)

Anyway, fast forward to 2012. The TSCverse now has another brilliant neurodivergent mind in Tiberius Nero Blackthorn. Of course, he is extremely different from Henry and Christopher. He is more mentally present, serious-minded, and a lot less spacey. But he also views things in a significantly different way than other Shadowhunters do, finding himself drawn to technology like computers in a way that most Nephilim would shirk.

Ty and his family are forced to keep the fact that they have computers in the Institute a secret. This is likely in part because mundanes invented them, but it also feels inconsistent with previous generations. Shadowhunters of old appreciated art; Jem and Alastair were openly musicians, for example. Matthew is an obvious aesthete with a penchant for the theatre and artistic pursuits. Even when Alastair notes that they aren't supposed to like mundane things like moving pictures, he does not seem worried about facing repercussions for seeing one. Ty and the other Blackthorns seem to think that they will see legal ramifications for having a computer, and this is in a world where Jia Penhallow is Consul.

Could the Blackthorns be wrong? Sure. But it feels to me that the Shadowhunters of old would not shirk a useful technology, and the computer has limitless capacity to assist them in their demon-fighting endeavors.

The Clave closed itself off to progress shortly after TLH, and Christopher's death feels a likely catalyst for that.

#i might also write a meta on matthew's impact in the tscverse expansion later #because i think he had a profound one as well in a different way #tsc deep dives #im into these today lol #henry fairchild #henry branwell #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #ty blackthorn

103 notes · View notes

theblogtini · 6 months

Note

I think Meghan is the epitome of "fake it til you make it" which isn't a bad thing per se, it worked well enough for her before meeting Harry for example. But it fell through because of the scrutiny of marrying into a family like the brf, where every single thing you do can/will be questioned, and you have to be beholden to the people you serve at every turn.

You have hit the nail on the head Anon, I have always been of the school of thought that MM and her team had set this up as a PR thing for her so that she could get in the papers, and Casting agents minds as her role in Suits was dying out. It was supposed to be a fling and given that Harry was not announcing it to the world and they were not being papped together, she started giving out hints and staging pap shots. Her end goal was always going to be Hollywood Elites and they though this was the way hence the 'Wild about Harry' magazine.

I am betting one of her girlfriends and an agent told her to ride it out as much as she can and offers will come but as usual MM wants immediate results. Then when it became clear that no Leading role offers from studios were coming in ala Bond Girl, Marvel super hero, Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt projects or even a Luxury brand campaign she jumped the gun as always. Told harry she was pregnant (Rules of BRF on out of wedlock children), Harry proposed hence the late HMTQ saying 'I guess I have to say yes' when harry told her. Then came the 'Miscarriage' but by then it was too late to back out on the engagement. she saw the notoriety that came with being with H and went with it (I can't fault her for her mindset). But as always she thought she knew better.

I really think that had MM just dated H for a while, be papped a lot as the 'Girlfriend of Prince Harry', then broken up with him, she would have gone far. In terms of Hollywood celebrity, met gala, Fashion week front seat, Oscars and all these things she wanted. No one would be fact checking everything she says.

Yeah for sure! She could have gotten the global attention she wanted, received all of the benefits of being a royal girlfriend (or royal ex-girlfriend), and had the freedom she wants as well. Once her profile was big enough she could have dropped Harry and gone her own way.

I think now she's run in to the problem of realizing that she's alienated so many people that without Harry she'll be right back to where she started... because every single venture they've done so far has revolved around HIS royal status and HIS royal family - no one cares what Meghan has to say solo. And when she has done things solo (Uvalde visit, The Bench) people just laugh at her.

28 notes · View notes

spider-bren · 10 months

Text

Holy Hands Will They Make Me A Sinner | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairings: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Tags: Priest Matt Murdock, Married Matt Murdock, Mention of sexual desires, Catholic Confessional

Summary: Priest Matt is the object of your desire and you confess to your sins

______

What does that say about me that I was able to tempt the devil?

______

You walked into the church, echoes of your footsteps loud in the silence of the vast space. A breath escaped you. Knowing. Always knowing the weight of your sins on your shoulders. It was with you everywhere you went. Could have been tattooed on your skin for all to see. You slid into the confessional booth and drew back the curtains. You knew who was behind there. Whose face you saw every night before you went to bed.

"Are you there, Father Murdock?"

A pause. Every nerve ending ignited at the sound of his voice.

"I am. What brings you here today?"

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you breathed.

You were supposed to say the usual routine : it's been __ days since my last confession… but you were past such things. You came here sometimes just to talk. To confess privately. He knew why you were here. You came every day now.

"I lust after a married man," you began again, as if he didn't know, as if they haven't been talking about this for weeks.

"Twenty Hail Mary's."

"What will that do, Father?" It was pointless. Same thing over and over. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't fight it. "Neither you or Mary can save me now. I keep thinking. These thoughts late at night. Do I tempt him as well? Does he feel for me as well?"

"That's not advised," he simply said.

"But I want him to be as wretched as I am. Because it's a sickness, Father, and I want him to be plagued as well."

"You shouldn't bring people into your own sin."

You nearly rolled your eyes.

"Father, what sins do you commit?"

"I'm human, much like you. There are things I also have to contend with."

"Like what?"

He chuckled faintly. "You want an example?"

"Yes, please, Father."

"I...I had sex before. Before. Before my sanctioned marriage to Karen."

Your heart pounded loudly in your ears. You could feel the heat flush down your body at the thought– the thought that he had done all those things. Images of him flooded through your mind. His back. His teeth baring into a growl. Deep guttural groans. His body moving, his hips thrusting. You blinked.

"How many times?" You asked.

You heard the struggle in his voice. "A lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"….a lot. And sometimes I feel I cannot escape my past. It's part of who I am. The devil is never far away."

"Do you long for it? The past?"

"More than I want to admit."

"Oscar Wilde said the only way to resist temptation is to yield to it," you added.

"Oscar Wilde was a sinful man by the church's standards." And you could tell he was smiling.

"So you think lust is a sin? Do you not lust after your wife?"

He cleared his throat. "I have personal relations with my wife not to be discussed here."

"So you've never got a hard on when your wife hugs you? When you feel her body pressed against yours? When you smell her perfume and hear her breathing in your ear‽ When you touch her skin? When she whispers things to you? Is she not the only one that can tempt you?"

There was a heavy stillness. You practically heard him breathing hard through the wall separating the two of you.

"I know what it's like to be tempted. I know how it feels to be consumed in it. I urge you to not succumb to these feelings."

"What if I have already, Father? What if I am just waiting to do something about it?"

"What would you do?"

The question stunned you. He had never asked this before. Never wanted to know your lustful thoughts.

"I have patience. Although I want my desires to be fulfilled, I can wait until I know he wants me just as much. I'm curious to see how easy it would be. How loyal he is. How far he would go to resist me. I think my words would be enough. I wouldn't have to tempt him with my body."

He licked his lips.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #priest matt murdock #my fic

52 notes · View notes

nerdieforpedro · 4 months

Text

Weekend Update - 12/24/2023 Christmas Eve

Hey Nerdie! You’ve got some bags there.

I do both under my eyes and Din finally let me look through the ones he’s been using. It’s….Mandalorians are wild.

I feel like they’re not Nerdie, at least not how you’re thinking. Should we even ask?

Has to do with what I’ve written this week:

Weddings 101 with Dieter - chapter 3 came out this week. There was a fight that I still giggle about. There will be more, I’m loving the beef between Dieter and Oscar. There had to be some type of fight in the rom-com. 🤭 There was also cloud smut? I don’t know how else to put it. Ya’ll read it and tell me what it was.

Sard’ika Sessions - In Session Four Din put together something in the reader’s house. They may use it again. Liberties are taken with the Creed and Mandalorian culture though not too crazy. (That might be for an epilogue.) I’d like to thank everyone who’s been reading since Session one (we’ve come so far from thigh-riding) and are now on the latter end where our Session partners are exploring each other but communication as well. It was really sweet to read people’s comments and see that they picked up on how well they communicate with each other while indulging in their sexual appetites. I’d like to think it’s come across how I planned it originally when I scribbled all of this in my notebook at 4am when I couldn’t sleep in November after Thanksgiving of all things. We’ll see how things continue to progress.

I have a poll up for “Weddings 101 with Dieter” to determine what might go into chapter four. I’m enjoying everyone’s comments and options on what should happen with both Dieter/Maya and Dieter vs. Oscar. Click the link above to vote and have your suggestions added. I’ll announce the results and the most voted will be put in. I’ll likely add some of the other suggestions because I like them so much. ☺️

Remember Frankie~ (I read something new and caught up on a few things. Some of which weren’t even related to our favorite pilot. My mind went deep into smut. As a warning, don’t read while multi-tasking! Though I take it as a point of pride to have someone forget their name while on a call. 😉) They knew who they are. 😎 Love ya! ❤️

Nerdie’s Bedtime Stories (Might be a new series for weirdness I think up and might read to someone. This was a Christmas Carol featuring some of the Pedro boys. A Feral Carol as @maggiemayhemnj called it.) @undercoverpena and @morallyinept encouraged me. 🤣

You put a lot of thought into what you write. We really thought it was only the non-smut stuff you thought hard on. You’ve indicated you have trouble with that before.

It’s not so much I have trouble with it. I’m used to doing one-shots and exclusivity writing smut before I joined back up on Tumblr. I’m branching out and trying all sorts of smut and actual storylines (when I can make it coherent to anyone but myself) in my writing now. Even comedy with Dieter though I like to put little jokes in most of my writing.

Ah, so you’re learning as you go on as we all do. Fair. Any current WIPs you’re trying to finish up before 2023 is out?

Well, I have a Pickled Peña to finish. Everyone’s welcome to join in and write about our favorite DEA agent Javier Peña. Everyone who’s participating will post on January 1st and tag their work with the “pickled peña” tag.

I’m also participating in the PMAMC 2024 which is in mid-January. I decided to challenge myself with not only writing about pegging but also writing with a character I’ve only written for once and in his historical setting, because past Nerdie who accepted this was feeling ambitious. 😗 Present Nerdie wonders what was she thinking. 🧐 She also has to review her notes on what may have been used to facilitate pegging during the time period, there’s a long note I have on it. It should be mostly historically accurate, I guess, because that’s what matters. 👀 In pegging - the historical aspect. 😒

I have two Robbie Reyes asks to work on as well as one smut piece I wanted to do for him and one actual story.

There are three Joel pieces that I wanted to write, one will be tabled until next Christmas. I don’t think I’ll finish it by tomorrow. The second was a post outbreak one, I’ve only written post outbreak once so I want to see if it will be a one short or series. The third one might be finished. I need to edit it.

Anything else will likely be tabled until 2024 because I either don’t have ideas for it or I want to wait until I feel good about writing it. 😊

Any last remarks?

I’d like to thank any and all of my beta readers: @avastrasposts @musings-of-a-rose @frenchiereading @theywhowriteandknowthings @megamindsecretlair @pedrodascal @iamasaddie @fhatbhabie and @morallyinept @legendary-pink-dot

Ya’ll saw all the typos, swapped countries and off beat plot points. 😗

Also @linzels-blog don’t worry The Creed is fine. Mostly I believe. Like it will all work out. 😉

I usually add fics I’ve read this week but I’m going to organize them and put them in another fic rec post because I have them saved there already. 😎

The above wallpaper was made by @xxhypersomnia who did two sets of awesome retro Javier Peña edits on her page. 🥰 She even tagged me in the second one which I have to look at later when I’m home.

13 notes · View notes

burningvelvet · 4 months

Note

I love your posts about Mary Shelly, I'm currently studying Frankenstein in school and reading The Last Man.

A bit off topic, but in the spirit of awful takes about old authors, I saw a post on here about Oscar Wilde, saying something along the lines of "Lmao dont sue someone for saying you commited sodomy when you did commit sodomy" and went on to say in the tags that they think Oscar Wilde was a "mean theatre gay". Okay I'm sorry I'm just petty but not only does this person not understand how incredible homophobic 1800s Britain was but they also seem to not know what homophobia is like. In general. I think that stereotypes and tiktok are the bane of my existence

Thank you! And I completely agree. I hate the way anti-intellectualism proliferates online, and I fear for people my age and younger than me.

Every day I think that the majority of our ideological, cultural, and social problems could be solved by a better and more accurate understanding of – and appreciation for – history (not just global history, but personal, ancestral, local, evolutionary – all of it). But that requires the ability to accept the complexities and nuances of the world, and to humbly admit to your own lack of knowledge, and to seriously question your values, morals, and beliefs, and to tackle all of the Unsavory Stuff of Life. Most people don't have the strength to do any of this because it's complex and confusing and uncomfortable.

I'm not a historian, but I am a huge fan of all things history, and every day I try to implement historical context and knowledge in every aspect of life. Like all people willing to admit it, I still struggle in my own self-education process, and with the various cognitive dissonances and implicit biases I've discovered in myself thereby. I understand many things are subjective, and everyone is tinged by their own biases built by their individual experiences.

With Wilde, he's an incredibly fascinating thinker and cultural icon, especially in LGBT+ history, and yet he's still so divisive even among progressive types for various reasons. He doesn't fully live up to 21st century Western standards of morality or ethics. As an economically privileged white man in the 1800s, of course he was raised to hold some prejudiced opinions when it came to race, religion, gender, etc. - yet, overall, he also was still far ahead of his time in these and many other regards compared to everyone else back then. He's contradictive, and knew it, and wasn't afraid to show it. He can't be easily defined, and people don't like that. But he's still an important historical figure and always will be, and I don't think he or his works should be burned. It's not reasonable to hold historical figures to modern standards or stereotypes. Context is key.

Also: if you didn't know, a lot of The Last Man was semi-autobiographical! A lot of interesting things have been written about this aspect of it.

#oscar wilde #history #historical figures #classic literature #classic writers #ask #asks #literature #english literature #opinions #me #my writing #my essays #wilde #romanticism #dark academia #cancel culture

11 notes · View notes

throwawaydracula · 2 years

Text

Some Thoughts on Mrs. Westenra

So, she's dead now. And let's be frank, from a purely functional literary standpoint, her main purpose was to serve as an obstacle for the protagonists to overcome. The fact that everybody-- including poor Lucy-- had to walk on eggshells lest they tax too much Mrs. Westenra's heart was a pretty handy setup to maintain a sense of drama and to oblige our heroes not to face problems head-on. Her removal of the garlic caused a reversal of fortune that imperiled Lucy once, and now twice. In some ways she’s just short of being a Diabolus ex Machina.

Lots of people hate her. This includes my own septuagenarian mum, who I called up specially in preparation for writing this post, because I wanted her opinion particularly given who Mrs. Westenra was. Mrs. Westenra could be taken as another stock character—The Stupid (or more gently but no less contemptuously) Silly Old Woman. It’s an archetype that shows up with odd regularity; it’s especially common in the Regency and Victorian and Edwardian stuff I’ve read, but she shows up today, too. Oftentimes she ends up being a repository for all those qualities that have been deemed ‘feminine weaknesses’, even in works that are otherwise female-friendly or actively feminist. Something I thought about mentioning in an earlier post, but cut because it seemed too much a digression, is that for some reason misogyny seems to become more palatable to a lot of people when it’s combined with ageism.

It would be easy to assume Stoker was in that camp, too. Make no mistake, the man was not what we would call a progressive today, nor even what we’d call a progressive in the 1890s—but he doesn’t seem to have been a diehard reactionary, either. Believe me, you’d be able to tell. Add to this the fact that the Whitman letter and his visit to a post-Exile Oscar Wilde confirm that his private opinions didn’t always match up with what he said publicly, either, and you end up with… well, a lot of possibilities for interpreting what Stoker might have meant at any given point. Of course, what an author “means” is not the be-all and end-all—no-one is perfectly awake to their own presuppositions and unconscious biases, no-one can be aware of all the possible implications of anything they communicate. But I am going to be working under the assumption that Stoker felt a little of Van Helsing’s sympathy for Mrs. Westenra, or that he could at least comprehend such sympathy as legitimate rather than simply the result of extreme softheartedness.

First, consider that Mrs. Westenra did not have any of the information we have, or that the other characters have. She knew her daughter is ill, but she had no idea how ill. Lucy is apparently very good at acting even when she feels absolutely terrible. As far as Mrs. Westenra knew, Lucy’s chronic illness was more of an inconvenience than anything. Yes, she knew a foreign expert was getting involved, but for all she knew that was just a personal favor—Jack being extra nice and considerate, and his mentor being very gracious. Nobody told her otherwise. She did realize Lucy was sick enough to warrant a doctor, but not that she had—before the flower episode—needed two freaking blood transfusions. So she was not on high alert, because everyone was afraid putting her on high alert would kill her.

Secondly: Mrs. Westenra was herself dying. She was given mere months to live. I can imagine that being, to put it lightly, somewhat distracting. Seward at least seems to agree with me on that point, because here’s his interpretation of Mrs. Westenra’s mental state:

She was alarmed, but not nearly so much as I expected to find her. Nature in one of her beneficent moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to its own terrors. Here, in a case where any shock may prove fatal, matters are so ordered that, from some cause or other, the things not personal—even the terrible change in her daughter to whom she is so attached—do not seem to reach her. It is something like the way Dame Nature gathers round a foreign body an envelope of some insensitive tissue which can protect from evil that which it would otherwise harm by contact. If this be an ordered selfishness, then we should pause before we condemn any one for the vice of egoism, for there may be deeper root for its causes than we have knowledge of.

Note, please, the lack of judgement here. This is important because the Victorians were very judgey people (about as judgey as we Tumblrians). Basically Mrs. Westenra was so caught up with the whole “you’re not going to live to see next year” thing that most of her thoughts were turning inward. And as Seward muses, that’s not only understandable, it’s kind of beneficial—she’s less susceptible to shock because of it. He directly compared the psychological state to a biological process, seeing it as natural and purposeful. Unfortunately, although it kept her alive longer than it might have, it also kept her from being as observant or reflective as she otherwise might have been.

Removing the garlic flowers from Lucy’s room could be seen as a sort of side effect of this. Mrs. Westenra wanted to be able to do something for Lucy before she died. She wasn't even sure she'd see her only child marry. She wanted to be part of her daughter’s life in a positive way while she could, but wasn't really in a frame of mind conducive to thinking beyond the immediate. Yes, she didn’t want to let Lucy sleep in her room, earlier, but as Lucy surmises that might have been because she didn’t want Lucy worrying about her. Or—even more tragically given current circumstances—she might have been afraid that when Lucy woke up, it would be to Mrs. Westenra’s corpse. Note that this last time, she still didn’t intend to stay the full night.

All that said: I do not think removing the garlic was excusable. Yes, I am aware of miasma theory and that Mrs. Westenra’s concerns about the smell were understandable in that light. However, by this point Mrs. Westenra was aware that two doctors, one of them a foreign expert, was seeing Lucy. It would have behooved Mrs. Westenra to at least wait to ask the doctor if the removing the plants was all right, even if she had not assumed that the doctor had placed them there. The very fact that someone had apparently gone to a lot of trouble putting all the garlic flowers there should have given her pause. It’s really not a good idea to remove something apparently deliberately constructed if you don’t know why it’s there. It was really quite officious of her to do that without asking, especially knowing both Seward and Van Helsing could be consulted.

At the same time, Van Helsing’s neglectfulness in telling Mrs. Westenra what the flowers were for is also not excusable. No, ‘not wanting to worry Mrs. Westenra because of her heart condition’ is not sufficient. Seward and Van Helsing still could have downplayed the seriousness of Lucy’s condition while explaining the garlic flowers did have medicinal value. Van Helsing himself is the only one at this point who understands what the garlic is really for; he has Seward’s trust, but Seward is his student. Seward has had a long time to develop implicit trust in Van Helsing, but Mrs. Westenra has not. It was really quite officious of him to assume he didn't need to give even a token explanation to Lucy’s own mother. He managed to explain things to her in the wake of the disaster just fine.

Note, please, I’m not looking for someone to pillory here. We don’t need to single someone out for fault, we don’t have to point out the guilty party and chant ‘shame, shame, shame’. People make mistakes with tragic results all the time, and I personally think a need to assign blame is counterproductive in many instances. Sometimes it's better to just try to fix things. Van Helsing certainly thought the same.

How much sympathy Stoker intended Mrs. Westenra to be read with is ambiguous to me. Having both Seward and Van Helsing interpret her sympathetically doesn’t necessarily mean Stoker did. That said, Victorian writers generally weren’t subtle when it came to pointing out who their audience ought to be seeing in a positive or negative light, and using characters as mouthpieces for that. Stoker might have been using Mrs. Westenra as a device to cause problems for the heroes, but I’m not sure he conceived of her as someone his audience should outright hate. She may well have been someone he pitied as much as anyone in the novel despite mostly using her to cause problems. But again, who knows, really. Plenty of books are written with an intent to ridicule, while the object of that ridicule comes across more sympathetically than the characters we’re supposed to root for.

I have come to the point where I feel more sorry for Mrs. Westenra than anything. She was a dying woman who loved her daughter and tried to help her, even if she didn’t make the best decisions. That said? Even I admitted I would have found it kind of cathartic if Van Helsing privately started cussing her out a bit. Never said it was rational or justified, just that it would be cathartic. My mum absolutely hates Mrs. Westenra because of what they have in common—she told me she hated her when she first read the book, and only dislikes her more now that she’s raised children to adulthood herself, and also taken care of her own mother in her old age. On that note, my sister also hates Mrs. Westenra. Haven’t talked to my dad about it but I reckon he’d probably hate her too.

And you know what? It's OK that they hate her. It’s also OK that some people aren’t even slightly upset with her, it’s OK that they feel unmixed sympathy for her and disagree with me about the decisions she made. It’s OK that people react differently to the same character. There is no ‘correct’ emotional response. If there’s anything I genuinely hate to see in some forms of literary criticism (or anywhere else) it’s the idea that there is one correct reaction to a complicated situation, especially in fiction. Dictating other peoples' feelings never ends well. It is a good thing that we have so many different perspectives on all this, and I'm glad to see people aren't afraid to disagree with each other.

#dracula daily #dracula daily meta #dracula spoilers #long post #cut for length

73 notes · View notes

cantsayidont · 2 days

Text

I feel like I should say for the record that I wouldn't mind that LOVE LIES BLEEDING goes way off the rails repeatedly if in doing so it hadn't ended up becoming something quite different than it started out. I knew going in that it was going to be some kind of lesbian weightlifting fetish thing where a bodybuilder does too many steroids because her GF thinks it's hot; I didn't appreciate the KStew character's weird biphobic fit, and I wasn't expecting and wasn't wild about the segue into "series of incredibly brutal murders," but I could have dealt with that stuff if the movie had stuck to the original direction in some recognizable way. The problem is that I did not sign on to watch Ed Harris being a creepy old gangster with the universe's most nightmarish wig, just as in BOUND, I didn't sign on for an hour of Joey Pants having a homicidal meltdown while the Jennifer Tilly and Gina Gershon characters are shoved into the background. In both cases, though, that's what we end up getting, at the expense of those movies' original concepts and, honestly, their primary selling points.

The toxic fetishism stuff in LOVE LIES BLEEDING was nonetheless sort of refreshing in the wake of AMMONITE, because whatever else one might say about LOVE LIES BLEEDING, it is not concerned with bourgeoisie art house respectability. The thing about AMMONITE that I find obnoxious is that its gray gloomy biopic ambiance seems to exist largely to cover for the film's actual primary appeal, which is seeing Saoirse Ronan fuck Kate Winslet. It's like the opposite of putting your kid's medicine or your dog's pills in a spoonful of peanut butter or applesauce to cover the bitter taste; the film's notoriously explicit central sex scene is surrounded by a lot of rather unappetizing porridge and some weak attempts at historical feminist commentary, because if it weren't, it might be derided as disreputable pulpy smut rather than Oscar-bait Cinéma for affluent white people to discuss afterward over a glass of chardonnay. LOVE LIES BLEEDING is willing to own being disreputable, pulpy, and (for a while) smutty, which is commendable; it would be more commendable if it didn't use that as a segue into the drearier reaches of post-Tarantino crime drama.

2 notes · View notes

onyourhyuck · 1 year

Text

Crimson Lace Part One. | Mark Lee (M)

Prologue: “Thought you said studying was for losers and it was a waste of your time?” + “I changed my mind.”

Summery: Minhyun, the older twin, has become obsessed with you. He wants you to himself but When he finds out his younger twin brother, Mark, shares the same feelings for you he is determined to claim you first. Who will you choose?

The Warnings: Love Triangle. Mark Lee Twin Tropes. Trouble maker who looks mean but is only sweet to her trope >>> . Fem Reader. Possessiveness. Groping. Hair pulling. Face fucking. Dom!Minhyun. Unprotected sex, please wrap your willys before you tap it. Ass play. Hitting it raw from the back. Mention of breeding (but only mentioned once) Studying sesh that goes wrong ;). Minhyuns secretly a sweetheart who’s just in love but acts like he isn’t…

The Taglist: @yesohhsehun @chardonnayyyy @dearj43 @jwicore @skzennie

The Notes: This fic is long + There will be a part 2 with Mark’s story. Lmk if you want to be on Taglist.

Cover Credit: @dearj43 tysm bb you’re the best 🙏

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The presentation ends as much as your will to live currently expires like a sappy old milk rotting at the bottom of the sinking fridge shelf . You felt yourself grow tired, yawning in your palm, cleaning up the open booklets from the lesson that has ended finally; you started to pray for it to end. However, one thing brings you back ultimately from your drowsiness and a near-midway-lesson nap.

“Who would’ve thought Y/n was slacking off having a goodnight nap through class right now?” Said the electric blue hair boy, wearing street way stylish clothes and his hair gelled up in to rough cliffs. The boy, Mark, was in every class you have and because of how much your time tables clash you became friends quickly. Ever since the two stuck like two peas in a pod. But there was another person in the dynamic.

Mark Lee is known for having a twin that was a complete polar opposite of each other, it felt like a big Shakespeare juxtaposition writing technique , honestly; it stuns everyone knowing how different they are to one another. It’s as if they were never related but that’s impossible considering they look freakishly identical face wise. But other than that, they act like complete strangers. They don’t enjoy speaking to each other, hell, you witness them ignoring each other at school. Though it’s not like Mark will run into Minhyun a lot considering his twin is a troublemaker. He doesn’t attend school. He doesn’t show any care for it actually. Unlike Mark, who cares about his classes, though, he tries his way to pass— he isn’t exactly the most smart either.

But he is very musically gifted. It’s one thing you love about Mark, it is the way he turns anything into music. He connects every little thing in everyday life you’d never expect to actually be connecting to music, and makes it fit right in. You remember once the cafeteria was serving kimchi jjigae one day and you and Mark sat down eating it; out of nowhere he starts rapping about kimchi jjigae and you swore you had second hand embarrassment but also found it completely comedically perfect. It was so random yet so funny. It went viral online too because other students inside the cafeteria were recording it.

To this day, Mark has been haunted by that video and he absolutely goes ballistic whenever he gets recognised by someone outside of UNI or inside of the campus.

Your lips fell apart as another soft yawn comes out, your hands shift on the books grabbing them as your pelvis shifts from the chair. You stand meeting Mark halfway from the class and outside. “I couldn’t sleep last night allow it. I had to pull an all-nighter for the Oscar Wilde analysis. I knew I was going to hate Wilde the moment i saw The Picture Of Dorian Gray book on my desk.” You sleepily added as your bodies walk side to side with Mark, his bag only one strap on the left shoulder, hands tucked inside the front black cargos pockets, watching you on the sideline as you complained your sad English-literature life away about how much Oscar Wilde is an absolute righteous dick for making The Picture Of Dorian Gray. Don’t get anything wrong but you don’t hate the piece. But if you are stuck late at night around 5am trying to figure out why the hell Dorian did what he did— without having to cuss in your analysis report saying ‘Dorian is a big dickhead’. It’s hard.

Mark loosely chimes at your long rant you’ve done from the classroom and inside the campus all the way to the front gates leaving the campus sight. Seriously, you can go on and on with venting and Mark could listen all day. He loves listening to you. But your conversation came to be cut close when his eyes look forward noticing an annoyingly vibrant red hair ; black leather jacket and a red Porsche outside parked out of the university. Many students watch the stranger, though Mark wished the person was a stranger. How badly he wished Minhyun wasn’t here outside waiting for you.

It’s hard sharing a mutual friend you both equally love and want your time to be shared with when the two brothers completely despise each other and want to forget their blood relation too.

You turn to Mark who looks glum and completely apprehensive. “Seriously guys why can’t you both get along?” You smack your lips together until Minhyun comes forward as his eyes fell on to you, completely ignoring Mark’s presence that seems to be the least acknowledge in his brain.

They really do hate each other.

“I refuse to get along with someone who literally hates watermelon.” Mark childishly adds as his lips pucker, shifting his head away from Minhyun. He seems so easily agitated, much Minhyun was unbothered. He fondly mocks his little brothers child’s-play tactics. “And i refuse to speak someone who cannot cook a bloody egg at his big age.”

Mark glares silently though you stare at the two boys in completely disbelief before shaking your head pushing past the two boys ridiculously petting you their anger but once you were gone their minds were put back on to you and they both follow you like lost puppies crawling back to their mother. Wanting the outmost attention, love, affection and time from you. But only one can get all from you and they don’t wish to share you. Whether it would be a single moment. They don’t want you to be with someone else yet along with one another. Minhyun wants you. Mark wants you. They don’t want to share you.

“Move out my way Markus.” Minhyun growls throwing an elbow to the leaner boy.

Mark hissed as his hands palm and shove the boy’s face, as breathing belts darkly. “Piss off Lee Minhyun.”

They push and shove each other just to get to you first but once you turned around with a huff, swearing a puff of white smoke emits from your ears, nostrils and the head as the boiling anger from within raises to high blood pressure— they back away slightly scared. If it’s one thing the two brothers know it is that you are ballistically terrifying when angry and they don’t wish to deal with angry you.

“You know what I’m going home alone today. How about you guys leave me alone if you cannot stay in one space long enough to be around me.” You add to them with a growl before walking off in the distance leaving the two stunned boys who let go off each other’s bodies with a soft whine leaving their lips. Minhyun let’s out a loose groan, you were supposed to get inside his car, it’s why he drove here. But Mark had to ruin it didn’t he. Mark on the other hand promised to walk you home! You always do that.

Mark rubs the back of his head. “What about our walk Y/n!” He calls out to you, though you ignore him.

Minhyun snarking. “I was suppose driving her home today.” Mark gawks at his brother. “As if. We always walk home.”

He rolls his eyes. “You really need to realise that she likes me better and you are simply the spare. I am the real deal. She clearly wants me and not you.”

He balls his tongue inside his tongue before he looks at Minhyun with a deadly glare in the black iris’ pupils, a look that could kill though he didn’t have enough body pressure to throw a punch. It wouldn’t be a first time that happened with them.

“You shut your mouth. You don’t know anything about her.” Mark said grabbing forward Minhyun by the collar. “Talk to me when you know what her favourite movie or Starbucks order is, Dickhead.” Letting go off the fabric leather collar as he walks off leaving Minhyun smirking at the angered boy.

Truth be honest, Mark has the most troubling anger management issues. Minhyun has never struggled with anger. Instead he struggles with his constant jealousy problem.

It’s funny though to see his little brother get so worked up, seeing the way his face turns hellish; Minhyun has to admit he must be head over heels for you, but that no can’t do.

He can’t have you. You’re his. He’s about to make sure of it.

The screen from your laptop welcomed you with bright light beckoning enough to warmly scorch your poorly tired and sore eyes as to last nights stupidly frustrating all-nighter ; what frustrates you the most is that you have an limitless pile of deadlines tasks to do therefore it looks like you’ll be needing to do more than one goddamn nighter. You can’t help but remember how your mother said to your high schooler self in the past that university was fun. Fun? If so when does the real fun start because fast forwarding three years you are still here with your head buried in books and your mentality reaching its downright limit .

You hear a door knock and as your eyes linger off your laptop you stand up and rush to the front reaching it to open, you thought this better be important enough to distraught you from your studies, and it was. Your eyes widen as you look at the unfamiliar face standing in an very unfamiliar setting. Minhyun in front of your door? Why? What did he need from you that seems so urgent considering the wet hair, soaking from the rain you haven’t even noticed it started to pour down, all the clothes sticking on his poor freezing body. His face had a sense of conflict and urgency that you felt the need to question, but when you’re about to speak and ask why he’s here, Minhyun pushes his hand on your doorway leaning down to your face.

His breathe was deathly cold you saw white smoke flowing out, his tongue rolling as he spoke. “I’m here for our unannounced study sesh.” He croaks out a smirk as your eyebrows squint together in confusion , wondering what sesh? It hit you right after Minhyun brushes past and enters inside your apartment wandering in front of you. You didn’t fight him or his nuisance presence wherein fact you simply went back to studying at your table on the floor.

Minhyun made himself at home with ease as if he was completely unbothered resting on the floor. You couldn’t focus with his damn presence around though, you hate it, you hate how much you gravitate to Minhyun and his troublesome tactics. You dislike the way he intrigues and controls you. You truly dislike that you want him near even though you know he will be giving out consequences and it truly makes your skin shawl with shivers. He was staring at you already when you look up giving him a short glance before hissing out in complaint.

“Here take the towel. You’re distracting me by how soaking you are on my floor.” He heard you hiss as you threw a white towel at him. Minhyun catches it with one hand before tugging the wet red locks in it and rubbing his cold-frozen face.

He grunts in the towel, finally letting out a relaxed and less stiff sigh. “Ugh that feels better.” You raise your eyebrow shaking your head until he let go off the towel and he crawls closer to the table in which you retort back instantly , starting to interrogate his true intentions of why he came here and what exactly was his deal because there’s no way you would ever study with a guy like Minhyun who shared equal hatred to doing something like that.

“Thought you said studying was for losers and it was a waste of your time?” You throw at the red head boy who gazed at you.

He looks like he was contemplating what to say. Nevertheless he continues taunting leisurely without shame: Minhyun’s the most shameless of them all. Even though you offered plenty of times to give him the opportunity of studying with you because you truly felt bad how far he was behind his university classes, he rejected you and then reprimanded you for trying to help him. Insulting your kindness to offer him a choice to help him through school. So why now? What made him come here to study now.

“I changed my mind.” You saw him shrug his shoulders as he said this and you roll your lips forward. “Oh yeah?” You say back and he hums a nod quickly to you.

His voice creepily lays on you with comfort and it makes your skin prickle as much as you wish to hate it you couldn’t and that is why you’re so conflicted with the way his dark eyes lay on you the more he crawls to you keeping you trapped in your own apartment. “I’d rather be a loser with you than have someone else do that.” He seeks a jealous remark causing your eyes to leave wonders as you let out a sudden softly chuckle in the air, it felt like magic to hear you speak and laugh; it’s insane to think he’s this obsessed with a girl he only met at a campus few times and then slowly throughout the years… you keep meeting and meeting. Like god was simply paving the way for you to meet more and more.

You bring your lips to shut as Minhyun looks at you confused as to why you were laughing at him. “Jealousy is a great motivator for you.” You smirk at him as he looks at you up and down.

Eyeing you like you’re what he wants. Not studying but only you.

He groans, demandingly. “Don’t tease me. It’s hard to control myself around you as it is.” He said with a warning but somehow you didn’t listen and lean closer whispering to his ears. You abandoned your studies without realising. You left your school work for this guy who had you thinking things. Had you feeling things you never wanted to feel.

As your voice leaves a whisper haunting his ears. “Oh yeah? I think I’ll stick to doing just that.” And his lips fell in a straight line when you crawl more to his space between you closing it, it’s the way your eyes flash at him . You were truly sly, he knew it. The way his hands slip round your back suddenly pushing you down on to his lap to sit your lips help a gasp deeply inside as his lips invade yours:

It felt like an intense rollercoaster to be kissing Minhyun with so much movement there wasn’t a time where neither of you were practically suffocating yourself to deepen the kiss, you were both at each other’s disposal but there was something with the way that Minhyun was just in control. But you didn’t hate it in any way, as you knew, he was jealous and it seems to of turned you on seeing him completely infatuated to the point he ran here to see you in middle of a heavy rain storm. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t eating. He wasn’t thinking straight. All thanks to you wondering if Mark is at your place right now, studying, talking or touching you. He wants to be here in his place and he thanks the lord he is.

He felt blessed to have you on his lap and kissing him with twice as passion as he has for you. It threw him off guard as he could only imagine what you tasted and felt like and now it’s happening; “Mh you have no idea how much I’ve fantasied about this. About kissing your lips late at night.” Minhyun hoarsely croaks as he suddenly flips you over to the couch laying you down with a pin as he stays on top. You blink at the sudden change of positions and you couldn’t help but listen in awe. “I have to admit it’s better than i could ever imagine.” Minhyun groaning past your lips, spreading the wet trailing kisses down to the neckline and on your cleavage through the pyjama top.

The boy didn’t hesitate to slide off the pyjama top hungrily eyeing your beautiful resting chest that he gropes and pampering with mini kisses , how comes to acknowledge how you’re wearing a pretty set of Crimson Lace lingerie “This is pretty. But I’d prefer it off…” he says, you felt your thighs clench together the more he teased your nipples with the bare hint of his teeth grazing it. The more he pulls on your nipples and the way the cold air inflicts it with his contrasting hellish warm breathe, coating it with saliva you squeeze a moan in the moment. Minhyun didn’t leave the opportunity to pass when he can finally mark the hell out of your skin. There’s no way he won’t do this.

As his teeth and lips simply abuse your beautiful and clean skin you can’t help but become a desperate mess as to why he was taking his sweet timing being such a slow poke; you wanted him to rail you down on your couch already, you need him, you’re aching for him. But even so you could tell Minhyun was holding back and savouring the moment unlike you. You wondered what could make him tick off, you wondered what can you say to make the boy fuck you so hard you forget your own name.

“Minhyun…” You call out as the boy flashed you a grin coyly at your desperate face, watching him so sternly with a sudden frustration flashing on your face. “I want you to hurry up, I need you.” You state and Minhyun licks his bottom lip.

There was something about the way you were both desperate but so angry, it turns him on seeing you angry. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind you lashing out on him. Hell does that make him love you provoking him?

“I want to enjoy this moment, because you never know if this will be the last time.” He slings through playing with the waistband of your lower pyjama clothing. You raise your head on the side whispering a remark.

“I bet if Mark was here he would’ve fucked me so much better by now.”

There it was exactly what you called a deathwish from Minhyun who looks at you with the absolutely-dead eyes- wanting to now fuck the shit and attitude out of you. It’s the way you love seeing his eyes go from lust to pure jealously in the moment and you shouldn’t lie, but you felt your stomach doing flips and turns full of butterflies seeing the way his demure and personality flipped off. He wasn’t going easy on you now. The sweet and caring Minhyun’s gone and you were left only with the cruel and merciless king who’s going to ruin the fuck out of you whether you like it or not. What’s the sickening part is that It’s what you wanted. You want him to treat you like he’s in control and you wish to challenge him. You want to be put in your place.

Your inner brat-ness couldn’t be controlled and Minhyun surely doesn’t mind taming a brat down the hard way. The easy way out wasn’t in your vocabulary anyways.

He shares no voice with you until he had you pulling upwards by grabbing a handful of your hair. He unbuckled the belt and slid down the jeans along with the calvin klein boxers, your eyes sparkle at the veiny abdomen and how pretty his monster cock simply was springing up with ease and Mark didn’t share you any instructions. Instead he: Grabbed your face roughly squeezing your jaw, telling you to open your pretty and useless mouth up, you obliged quickly to his words and he shoved his cock down your throat not caring if you gag or what not. Seeing you struggle might make him cum quicker.

Then again he was kind to you. You didn’t want that though because you simply love being ruined. You dislike the way you love how much he was pounding your mouth as if it’s nothing but a hole for him to get his girthy-cock used and it clouds your judgement with lust. Your cheeks hollow as you take more of his cock inside , as much as you’re gagging you can’t help but want more of him in your mouth. It was so small and tiny comparing to how wide and big he was, it made him watch you struggle arouse him more though. The way you couldn’t even use your mouth. He was constantly pushing against you and there was no way for you to run. You’re going to leave with a sore mouth, was his determined goal. Until you’re crying or tapping him to stop.

But instead you moan shamelessly at how deep his tip of the cock was rampaging the back of your throat, the way his size expands your mouth and curls in your cheeks too. Your eyes watery because this was only one speed, he had plenty of mores still ahead of him . You mentally should’ve presented yourself with the idea of: don’t piss off a raging jealous twin who wants to fuck you and possess you. Otherwise he will break your mouth and you’ll be the one complaining about it later on. Minhyun grabs your head pushing you forward in which he slows down the pace, so he could stay watching your mouth slowly crawl up and finally take him entirely in the mouth. Your eyes widen, looking above. Minhyun was gazing at you coldly before rubbing your hair in a messy ponytail with his hands and his thrusts, went berserk.

“Hm. I bet Mark couldn’t fuck your mouth like this. Look at you, crying over how much I’m destroying your face, I bet you knew Mark could never do this to you darling.”

His voice reeks of envy.

The way his was not even thrusting anymore but causing you to deep-throat him with such long and harsh thrusts, they were quick like constant jabs punching you and it makes your throat itch and hurt but even then you felt his cock twitch and your desires were overcoming with the pain to make him cum. Minhyun groans and you felt yourself become a people pleaser again— wanting to please him and only him. Wanting to help him out with the pent up frustration and he does. Snapping out with inconsistencies in the pounding to your face fucking, his lips die off an end as he was breathing heavily.

“That’s right baby, take all of it, don’t let any slip out yeah?” Minhyun swirls his cock in your mouth as it twitched one last time before the liquid snaps out in multiple lines inside your painfully stinging and warm mouth begging for a break. He watches you struggle to keep your mouth closed as his pink and reddish top of his cock leaves and you spill some on the corner to your lips. Minhyun growls grabbing your face forward, as he starts to ridicule you. “I said don’t let any slip out, Y/n did my cock fuck you so good that you can’t remember how to close your mouth and swallow?” He seeks his finger wiping the cum dribbling down as his fingers were pushed in your mouth, salvaging it back inside keeping your mouth full until you swallowed.

You haven’t recovered from the way he was simply abusing your mouth like it was an Inn and Out placement, so when he flips you over from the back with your head up and the back arched in circular motions as his fingers tied on the waistline stripping you he had you on display for the way his eyes lay on your beautiful figure with curves and a round ass that he groped. Smacking it with one hand as the other kneads it like it were a dough, seeing how it jiggles with the slap you found yourself letting out a soft sigh. He smirks hearing you become so sensitive over everything now. He just can’t wait to hear you when he enters you, it’ll be a sight to see and a show to hear.

“I’m not even sure if i should eat you out anymore, with the way you loosely mention my brothers name. Maybe you should go and ask him…” He suddenly says changing the way his tactics go and your eyes widen. Wait that wasn’t what’s supposed to happen. He was supposed to fuck you after you encourage his jealousy issue. Why was he suddenly turning the tables round you?

He pulls away and you grab the sheets whining, god, if he’s trying to make you beg than he shouldn’t do this you’ll do anything now. You can’t be left like this and there’s no way you’re calling Mark to fuck you when you truly want Minhyun now and there. You meekly call out, as an invitation. “No! No no. Minhyun I want you. I don’t want Mark.” You said quickly catching the boy to pause and smirk in delight hearing you. He reaches for your ass again, humming as he rubs your body.

“You want me right? Only me.” He ceases to say and you held your breathe. “Yes yes. Only you. Fuck. I want you to fuck me badly.”

He scoffs at how much you’re begging, it’s amazing to hear it, and he can’t wait to fuck you either but there’s just something lingering in the air that he can’t push the thought of. “I don’t believe you.” He states and you glare with a huff.

“Fine. Maybe I’ll go and call Mark.” You state with the grit to your teeth but that’s was what done it for him. Minhyun broke out of the sweet dearly caring demure again and had you face plant as his cock was watching your entrance before sliding inside due to how wet you are; it was easy to slip and out without you noticing and look at you moaning loudly in the mattress covering your face in the bedsheets like a whore you are. Minhyun had you waiting for you to act up, purposely, so he could fuck you like the white you want to be treated like and he wants to show you who’s wanting you and who isn’t. He doesn’t want you to even know Mark. He wants you to forget him. To stop mentioning him. He wants you to speak about him and mention him only so he can see Mark’s defeated face when you pick him.

He wishes to crush his brothers dreams of ever having you and knowing you, he wants you to be screaming his name that you only know him and cease to exist without him would be hard. It’s the way you fell completely in disbelief at how his thick cock was pursing through your tight velvet walls and the way his tip was constantly coursing through to your womb hitting the right spots you weren’t sure were able to be reached within a milestone; Minhyun had you bend down like you were an animal on display for him, he had you being fucked like you were nothing but a human bodily flesh for him to use and treat like his cum dump. He tried his best to be sweet to you but you didn’t take it. You wanted this.

You wanted him to be mean and jealous. You took advantage of his jealousy not once but twice now and it was going to be final for you to do this to him. You were lost so much in the pleasure you felt yourself go dizzy and weak, but Minhyun didn’t care, no, he truly didn’t. He was lost in his own pleasure as his cock kept going in and out of you— reconnecting to your tight pussy that feels like it’s made to be around him, clenching enough to make him cum right there and then and he doesn’t want this to end so quickly.

He was edging you through your own orgasm too. Whenever you became so close to the end as you clench harder he slows down the pace and you were simply gripping the bedsheets with frustration. He had you waiting and waiting for an orgasm until you simply beg for it and cry. You wanted this, Mean Minhyun, and you got it.

“You asshole.” You weakly spat in the bedsheets as he heard you curse, with a smirk growing wider on the face he pounds into you deeper the more you curse him out. “Hm, good girls get to orgasm. You have to earn it however.” He slants as he goes quicker again and you cry out. “Please I want to cum. Please. I can’t take much anymore.” You plead at his mercy as his eye watches you before reaching down with his palm to your exposed and bare clit. You gasp with your eyes widening, what was he doing? Was he purposely trying to pleasure you as he edged you?

You let out a yelp when his two fingers work his way in circular motions on your sensitive clit as his thrusts sternly kept a same identical pace of an animal pounding in you with all desires to have you. The overstimulation empowers through your body and when you realise the abdomen becomes warm and you were getting closer and closer to an orgasm you start to warn Minhyun in panic.

“Fuck, Min-Minhyun I’m close. Fuck fuck. Please can I cum, please. Give it to me please.” Said your voice dimming down and choking a moan midway, his glum and cruel voice creepily crawls behind you as his head pulls on your hair. “Cum on my cock since you’re begging this much.” He stated without much emotions as he groans, the way his hand flicks to your clit on the wrist and it didn’t take long for you to let go and have it snap right there and then.

You thought you were going to cum a little, boy, you were wrong. The overstimulation constantly had you waiting and waiting piling on so much that you squirt over your orgasm on his cock and down on the couch bedsheets, you would be sloppily trying your best with wobbling arms to stay up but you fell right on your face and chest as your breasts manoeuvre. Minhyun let go off your clit with a shock entering his body but it was an awe seeing the way you squirt due to how much he pleasured you, he felt a sling of ego rising in him and he mockingly adds to you. “God you squirted, did i pleasure you that much you couldn’t take it?” He sneers at you because you look fucked out dumb, literally with the way your eyes were clenching. You could no longer see without seeing black. It was that overwhelming.

It was your first time squirting too, who would’ve thought it was this powerful more than a normal orgasm? Seriously. You didn’t have time to recover at all and Minhyun pushed his cock further until he was twitching deep inside you, you could tell he was close and this somehow fuels you to take more and more of his demanding and pounding thrusts inside you leaving your pussy squelching. With your squirting on his hard cock he felt how warm your juices spew on him and he couldn’t lie it was a sight to turn on anyone, he felt the way his abdomen become harder to control as his thrusts getting closer and now he was simply pushing your face down in the pillows angling himself deeper in you. You were forced to lay on your stomach and the way your body follows his in synch, he fucks you deeper in an angle you couldn’t imagine.

“I’m going to cum inside you, fill you nice and up for Mark to see if he ever does.” He greedily said and your ears perk up at those words as did your body, clenching, he smirks feeling the way you were secretly enjoying this jealous side of him and so was he; he couldn’t lie. “Yeah? You like the sound of that huh? You’re so filthy Y/n. I bet you like the sound of me cumming inside you. Fucking a baby in to you. Do you like that Hm?”

You could only respond with a muffled moan as the couch creeks open and his cock spasms as well with his body, stuffing your abused hole with his his warm and scorching liquid filling you full to the brim of his cum. You let out a sigh of relief as Minhyun slants next to you with an exhausting expression and beads of sweat.

You roll over as Minhyun was quick to stand up gathering the clothes on the floor that were scattered especially your beautiful lingerie set — he then gets changed first. You wondered why did he hurry away when you thought he left, he actually came back from the kitchen with a glass of water. You look up at him, surprised, but an other half of you felt flustered. You sit up and reach for the glass but when he saw the way you were trembling, especially your arms, he stops you.

“Let me help you.” Minhyun gently said and you didn’t dare reject him as your lips drink from the cup as he helped you to be fed.

You shyly look down and Minhyun helped you get changed. He made sure you were taken care off. It really leaves you surprised with the way he was fucking you like an rabid dog and now here he is being this sweet and gentle soul you weren’t even aware he had this side of him. But it somehow makes you melt. It does.

He fell back in to his devilish smirk before grabbing a hold of your Crimson Lace Lingerie. “You should wear this more often.” Minhyun said. You raise your eyebrows together. “You like that set?” You smile and Minhyun let’s out a soft laugh.

“I fucking love it. Maybe next time,” he croaks out playfully before travelling close to you with a hint, he flashed you flirty eyes and smile. “I can fuck you wearing that only?” He would ask and you felt your heart drop at the suggestion.

You have a feeling this will become a daily-on-thing in the future.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! REBLOG AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE UPDATES FOR PART 2.

588 notes · View notes