12 years old: i was so cringe when i was nine, i'm super mature now though
15 years old: i was so cringe when i was twelve, i'm super mature now though. i'm a totally different person. i'm basically an adult
18 years old: i was so. (trying to be nicer to myself) fifteen. when i was fifteen. i wasn't an adult even a little back then. i'm an adult now though of course
21 years old: i was so newborn fawn taking its first steps when i was 18. i wasn't an adult at 18 i'm barely even an adult now tbh
23 years old: i was so. hey wait the others have all gone up in increments of three why'd it change
23 years old: because i'm still 23 so i can't speak to that experience yet
23 years old: do you think anything will magically change in the next few months to the point where you can't possibly imagine how you'll feel at 24
23 years old: i mean you never know. anything can happen. they're letting people born in 2002 turn 24, for instance
the mold spores in my house speaking to me telepathically: yeah that's perfect now hit post
TW: explicit sexual content (penetrative sex, protected), recreational drug use (weed, mentioned), praise kink, dirty talk
The kisses had been going on for a while now: sloppy, a bit messy, often switched between a quick puff of weed or a joke. You lost track of time, until your phone went off with a notification, warning you it was about to die out…You noticed only in that moment.
2:07 AM.
“Shit, it’s late…” you muttered breathlessly, passing one hand over your face “Maybe I should-”
Malchemical didn’t even let you finish your thought, he just kissed you again like you were the very air he was breathing. When he pulled away, he looked at you with a little pout and spoke up “Stay...? Please. I can promise you my bed is big enough for two…And I don’t snore out poisonous gas in my sleep.”
The last sentence made you laugh, melting away all the tension that had been bubbling up inside you at his question. Kissing the man you had been pining over for months was one thing, but sharing a bed? That was another level of intimacy. But then you properly took in the way Malchemical was staring at you: genuine smile (not the one he plastered on for Vought), blue eyes lighting up, lips slightly puffed from your little make out session…It was impossible to say no.
“Only because it’s late.” You teased him with a smile, leaning in to give him another kiss. This time the kiss lasted longer and Malchemical picked you up from your waist, sitting you on his lap like you weighted nothing. You always knew he had a bit of muscle on him, but the ease he handled you with made you gasp.
“Surprised?” he asked, anchoring you on himself, his hands sprawled on your hips “Perks of being injected V when I was a kid, I can lift you like nothing.” He moved his right hand from your hips to your face, caressing it with his index “You’re so beautiful…”
“Well, you’re not that bad yourself.” You replied, leaning in to bite his chapped lips as another form of tease. Yet the bite didn’t last much long, it turned into another make out session, accompanied by your hands roaming around each other.
You used your position as a leverage and started to grind on his thigh in between the various kisses, chasing pleasure for yourself. When Malchemical noticed it, he bit his lips, pulling away from you and forcing you to stop.
“Already needy?” he asked, letting his hand trail down slowly from your lips to your belly “You could have just told me. Are you too dumb to use your words, darling?”
The last sentence caused a puddle of heat in your stomach, some blush creeping up from your neck; Malchemical ‘s hand teasingly moved up and down your stomach, never leaving the area just to toy with you.
“Speak up.” He told you in a more condescending tone “I don’t know what to do if you don’t tell me.”
“You know, asshole.” You replied, trying to regain your usual wit, which only made him laugh and pull his hand away from you as a form of punishment.
“I believe that’s not how you’re supposed to speak during a make out session.” He scolded you in a gentle tone, cupping your cheeks “Unless you want me to puff some pure oxytocin in you? I can do it.”
“Oxywhat?” you asked him with a laugh, since you knew zero of chemistry. Which was rather ironic, considering the powers of the man you were currently straddling.
“Oxytocin…Your body is producing it right now.” He explained in that smart tone he used when talking about chemistry and drugs “Also known as bonding hormone, it gets produced when you’re physically close with someone.”
He caressed you again, making you lean into his warm touch “It increases trust and affection…And it’s currently making you sweeter with me, darling.” His hand slipped down again, this time fiddling with your zipper “And it is also linked to arousal.”
Those were the last words spoken for a while, the two of you too focused on kissing and removing your clothes, discharging them on the floor. Only when the two of you were naked Malchemical spoke again, his hand resting right where you needed it the most and moving slowly.
“You’re a work of art, my darling.” He whispered, busying himself with slowly pleasuring you. He pressed you closer against him, his cheeks red from the heat “I could do this all day, just staring at you while worshipping your body…”
After talking he started kissing your neck, actively overwhelming all your senses: his words, his touch, his lips, his warmth…It was the most beautiful sensation you had ever felt in your life. His hand kept working on you, making sure to get you needy enough for him.
“Oh my god…” you moaned out for him, finally able to at least let out something coherent instead of random sounds of pleasure “Didn’t know you were so good…”
“Then I’m glad to be surprising you.” He whispered, nipping at your earlobe while he slowly sped up the movement of his hand “Let me prep you properly and then I’m taking good care of you.”
Finally, you decided to act as well and took his hard length in your hand, pumping it up and down in rhythmic fast movements. Malchemical’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as a little whimper escaped his lips, clearly not expecting this.
“Oh yes darling…Just like that, you’re so good…” he called after you, thrusting his hips into your hand. He tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering “I need to stand up and grab a condom…Wait for me here…I’ll be right back, darling.”
It was difficult to untangle yourself from him, but you eventually did. Malchemical disappeared inside the restroom, the little time he took seeming eternal in your arousal state. He emerged with the condom on his length, pumping himself to properly coat the latex with lube.
“I didn’t want to hurt my darling.” He told you, sitting back on the velvety couch and welcoming you on his lap again “I’ll be careful with you, I promise.”
That was the last thing he said before he dropped you on himself, making himself home in you. At first his thrusts were slow to give you enough time to adjust, but then he picked up a steady pace that left you breathless, your body welcoming him like it had always belonged to Malchemical and Malchemical only.
“Oh, Mal-” you moaned out for him, choking on your own pleasure; your hands tightened in his hair, slightly pulling on it, which Malchemical seemed to find pleasurable.
“Go on.” He invited you with a whimper “Tilt my head, look at me in the eyes darling.” A thrust hit your most sensitive spot “I want to see you shatter for me.”
By that point your bodies were a pool of juices and pleasure, your body tingling with the sensations he was providing you. He kept on the steady rhythm, watching your every reaction while whimpering.
“Darling, you’re so perfect…” he praised you, burying his face into your neck and biting down a hickey “Perfect and mine…Mine.”
His last word was punctuated by a steady grip on your hips, just enough to leave his fingers on you and stake another claim. That gesture pushed you to do the same, so you leaned down and started to leave lovebites on his shoulder, the purple marks following every point your lips rested upon.
“Mine.” You echoed him, lifting his head again by his hair. You were greeted by the image of a whimpering mess, your gesture having obviously made him see stars in a way he was struggling to describe.
“I’m not coming before you” Malchemical declared, then started to thrust deeper into you, driving your pleasure even higher “My darling comes first. Yes darling?”
He used his hands to add more pleasure for you, willing to see how long it would take for you to shatter. You could hear him speaking in the background, calling you darling over and over, saying how good you were, inviting you to let go for him, but the words blurred together in the sea of bliss you were drowning in.
Finally the built-up in your stomach loosened and you actually saw white for a second as your body released all the tension it had been saving for your climax; your heartbeat quickened and you felt an electric wave of heat hitting you.
“Mal!” you shouted in pleasure, causing him to grin as he only went faster, chasing his own climax while you were still through yours.
“Yes darling, yes darling…!” he called after you, giving you a kiss a deep kiss as he finally managed to reach his orgasm as well.
For some seconds there was only silence between the two of you, broken only by your uneven breathing, then you started to caress his hair and gave him another kiss.
“You were great…” you praised him, then laughed tiredly “Didn’t take you for the type to whimper.”
“Didn’t take you for the type to fuck a walking biohazard either, but there we are.” He retorted and booped your nose, allowing you to rest on him, the afterglow setting over the two of you.
Little bonus:
Usually your hookups all ended in the same way: a climax, sharing a cigarette and heading home. Mal? He had proved to be a gentleman. After you had rested enough, he had helped you getting cleaned up properly, refusing for either of you to get in bed dirty. Then he had lifted you up and escorted you to his bed, laying you on it like you were his most precious treasure.
You were one step from rolling on your hips and closing your eyes, when he took you by the waist and let your head rest on his chest.
“No cuddles?” he asked you, with the same face of a kicked puppy.
“Sorry…” you said, a little sheepishly, as you took his hand “Still getting used to this…My last hook-up kicked me out of his bed.”
“Your last hook-up is a complete idiot.” Malchemical declared with conviction, kissing your head “Now you’re with someone who knows your worth…And you, my darling? You deserve cuddles.”
You allowed yourself to relax completely in his arms, drifting off in a dreamless sleep. The only thing you had been dreaming off lately was right next to you, after all.
Else’s yap corner:
is authors yapping at the ends of their fanfictions still a thing? I got no idea. Anyway, here’s the part two as promised :)
I got two ideas in mind now:
Publishing my list of headcanons about Malchemical
periods are so fucked up the fuck do you mean half the population has to bleed out of their genitals for a week and we can’t complain bc it’s “natural” and we have to pay for products if we want to stop the pain and not bleed everywhere but if we can’t afford the products or the products don’t work we get mocked and shamed and then when it finally stops, you feel like shit and people call you old.
free hysterectomies (or other applicable procedures) for all.
Synopsis: A smoking session with Malchemical turning into something…more.
TW: recreational drug use (weed)
Genre: fluff (bit I might consider make a smut part 2)
Word count: 1286
The work week had been longer than usual for you, making you exhausted and in need of some weed to relax and unwind. Luckily for you, Malchemical was always up for a smoking session with a friend.
The two of you had met some years ago at some corporate event he had been hired in as a DJ and clicked immediately, which had been the start to a nice friendship, mostly made of weed hangout and fast food soon after. Yes, in the last months you had found yourself daydreaming about him, but you were sure that it was just a passing, harmless crush…Or at least you hoped so.
Anyway, after a brief texts exchange, you took an Uber to his villa. Malchemical was waiting for you at the door, two pre-rolled joints already waiting in his hands. He was dressed in his usual wrinkled blue button up and jeans, a relaxed smile on his face and the smell of his sandalwood perfume lingering on his skin.
“About damn time.” He told you, ushering you inside with his usual grin and an arm around your shoulders (which made your heart take a leap) “I was beginning to think you had fallen asleep in the Uber and forgotten about me. Come, I paid Marathon to get us the good stuff.”
“You’re a saviour.” You commented, walking to the living room with him. His relaxed behaviour seemed to be already rubbing on you: you could feel the tension in your muscles seeping away, just like the thoughts of work that had been hunting you the whole ride.
You sat on his velvety couch with him, the sound of one of his psychedelic vinyls playing in the background. Malchemical handed you one of the joints, then gave you a wink.
“You forgot the lighter.” You told him sarcastically, just to poke at him a bit “You’re getting old.”
Instead of answering your jab like he would have usually done, he leaned closer and sent a warm puff in your direction. The joint between your fingers lit up, just like the glint in his blue eyes.
“Perks of my powers.” He told you like it explained everything, then lazily lit up his own joint.
“And you never thought of showing me.” You retorted, taking a light puff and letting out a small chuckle.
“You never asked. And I usually keep a lighter around here or in my pocket.” He defended himself and sprawled more comfortably “Just enjoy the smoke. No talking of work, okay? If you do, I’m gonna puff laughing gas in your pretty face.”
You laughed at his joke even before your brain properly registered what he said…It took you some seconds to truly understand what he said.
Pretty. He had called you pretty.
You felt a stupid smile forming on your face, one that wasn’t fuelled by the weed. This one was rooted in the stupid little crush you had been having on Mal for at least six months now, feelings you had been tried to bury under the pretence of not ruining your light-hearted friendship.
“You still there?” He asked, snapping his fingers in front of your face with a laugh “Earth to-”
You cut him off, slightly slapping his hand away “Still here, idiot…Just thinking, something you’re not really used to.”
“About work?” he teased you, leaning closer; his scent of sandalwood and weed hit you again, making your head spin and your heartbeat speed up “Do I have to use the laughing gas?”.
“No.” you just responded, refusing to go into the details of your feelings for him. To properly dodge the question, you made sure to take a puff of your joint and kept the smoke in for a few seconds, before letting it out.
“Whatever.” He commented with one of his lazy smiles, the same smile that had given you butterflies time and time again. He remained in your personal space, noting how you didn’t seem to mind, letting a comfortable silence set between the two of you, only accompanied by the music.
Your mind began to wander, your thoughts slightly clouded by the drug. His eyes, his hands, his smile, everything about him seemed to draw you in desperately, even that stupid superpower that should have been lethal, but he used just as a commodity.
Malchemical’s blue eyes eventually fell on you, properly taking in your expression. “Still thinking too much. What’s going on?” he asked, this time his tone more serious “You know you can talk to me, right? We’re friends.”
Friends.
That was the whole problem, that you were just friends with the man you had been growing feelings for. This time you couldn’t bring yourself to answer, so you just nodded and resumed your smoking session, pretending that you didn’t have a storm happening inside you.
“And now you’re pouting on me.” He resumed talking, shifting his position to accommodate you. You might have been close before, but now he repositioned himself so that your head was on his chest and his arm over you. “Much better, at least I can cuddle you like this.” He whispered in that gentle tone that never failed to give you butterflies.
To add to the mess already going on in your mind and body, the proximity also made you blush, something that he must have noticed when looking down at you.
“Okay, I need to take that pout off you.” He kept speaking to you, using a light-hearted tone, his way of showing worry about you.
“If you are going to use the laughing gas I’m burning your vinyl collection.” You finally spoke up, warning him. Yet you kept the close position, allowing yourself to seep in his natural warmth.
He smirked when you finally talked, lifting your chin up so he could look at you properly “No laughing gas involved, I promise…But you need to close your eyes and trust me.”
“Trust a walking biohazard?” you played with him, to keep on the light-hearted atmosphere that he was trying to create. You didn’t want your stupid feelings to get in the way of a good night.
“Trust me.” He highlighted, taking the joint off your hand and leaving it on the ashtray on the coffee table. Something in his tone sounded so gentle and sweet that it made you give in; leaning in even closer, you allowed your eyes to shut.
The next thing you felt overwhelmed your senses immediately: a kiss, soft and a little clumsy, your noses bumping into each other. But it was still a kiss, something you had daydreamed but never thought would have come to life. You spread your lips to gasp and kiss him back, but that was his opening: the smoke of his own joint poured into your mouth, the earthy flavour hitting you and curling down your throat.
“You-! Asshole!” you pulled away, blushing even more than before. You scrubbed a hand over your mouth like it could erase the taste of him or the fact that your heart was about to spill out of your chest.
"Worth it." Malchemical just grinned at your reaction, the joint sitting between his fingers, entirely too pleased with himself. As soon as you saw his grin, your outrage collapsed into a laugh you couldn't hold back: undignified, with a half-snort, which only made it worse (or better, at this point you had no idea).
"See?" he continued, watching you finally laugh "That's exactly the reaction I wanted.”
He abandoned his joint next to yours on the ashtray and leaned in again, giving you a second kiss. Only that this time there wasn’t a puff of weed or a laugh on his part, just pure love.
