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aaronhotchstan · 3 years ago

Text

Too old for this...

Chapter 10 final

Cena di famiglia

Aaron Hotchner/ David Rossi

In the end they managed to scrape together a pair of jeans that were slightly too small and clung to Aaron's ass almost obscenely and an old gym shirt from back when Dave bothered with the masochistic practice of attending. He probably could have found something more appropriate if they hadn't gotten sidetracked with a steamy shared shower but this was never going to be a regret for him, they were helping the environment after all.

Garcia was jumping up and down on his doorstep ringing the bell insistently and balancing a large tupperware container on her arm. He could hear her excited squeals through the hallway even over the sound of the bell. He took one long breath to brace himself before letting her in.

"I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT" She screamed as she rushed inside dropping off her wares before circling back and dragging Dave into a bone crushing hug.

"So you said last night jellybean." Dave replied with a chuckle despite being winded from Garcia's crushing grasp.

Aaron chose this moment to appear in the hallway his hair still messy from a hasty towel dry and looking so cute dressed down in Dave's old clothes with the glasses that make him look like a shy law professor. Dave wanted to wrap him in a hug, or in bubble rap or wrap him in bubble rap then hug him. Garcia seemed to have similar plans as he was released from her grasp in time for her to hug Aaron tightly.

"Aw sir I'm so happy for you both you deserve the world I can't believe that you guys finally came to your senses." She had happy tears running down her cheeks that made Dave melt.

Truly the entire team had him wrapped around their pinky fingers but Pen was one of the sweetest and most loyal friends he could ever ask for and he was so glad she decided to meddle in his love life.

Aaron glanced over Penelope's shoulder to see Dave misty eyed and let out an awkward chuckle.

"Penelope you have to stop crying you've got Dave started and if you both continue I'll start."

Penelope laughed grasping Aaron's hand and reaching out for Dave who complied once he had dried the stray tears off with his shirt sleeve so he could regain his crumbling macho persona.

"Come and see what treats I have for everyone!" Garcia led them to the kitchen and unveiled her feast.

Aaron and Dave groaned with the hunger that hit them all at once, after they cleaned up failed pasta and spilled wine they had decided that toast would have to do before they collapsed into bed together. This in hindsight was not a filling meal for either of them especially with the vigorous extracurricular activities they had been partaking in. Garcia had brough ordinary and veggie bacon, plenty eggs for her to fry or scramble, sausages, tomatoes and fresh bread for toasting. She and Dave began digging out pans while Aaron made a pot of coffee and started laying the table.

"Oh by everyone Garcia who do you mean?" Aaron enquired as he was counting out forks.

"You know, Emily, Derek, JJ, Reid and maybe some paperwork for HR." She grinned with mischief as Aaron and Dave laughed.

"You must have been confident in my ability to woo Hotch because usually that paperwork takes a couple days to be sent." Dave chuckled eyeing Garcia with mock suspicion.

"My Italian Stallion I have had these papers since three days after you were staring at Boss man while he made his coffee. Maybe I wasn't as confident in your wooing abilities but rather my cupid abilities because I was this close to borrowing Derek's handcuffs and locking you two together!" She said holding out two fingers just barely touching.

Dave laughed "You have no idea how Glad I am that you didn't need to do that."

Soon after the rest of the team arrived in dregs the joy was visible on all their faces as they exchanged hugs and laughs. When it came time to take their seats not one dinner guest was without a smile plastered to their face. Emily clinked her teaspoon against her glass of orange juice and stood up.

"I just want to say that I am so happy these idiots finally decided to stop being stupid and get on with it already! It was definitely a team effort and although I think some of our schemes were better thought out than others." She gave all her team mates a meaningful glance. "We fuckin did it!"

Everyone applauded laughing as Emily gave a deep curtsy before sitting herself back on her chair.

"Okay, okay, I'm not usually a fan of meddling especially when I'm the focus of it because as a team you are always so...exhaustingly persistent on whatever you collectively set your minds on. In this case however you encouraged us to be honest with each other and to take a leap of faith, also not something I'm one to do with relationships but all the alcohol Garcia provided throughout definitely helped. Anyway thank you all and you can each ask Dave one question about our relationship and then our private lives are once again officially private!" Hotch announced raising his coffee in cheers with everyone.

His declaration was met with some cheers and some arguments on whether just one question was really fair once everyone settled down they all looked to Rossi.

"Why am I suddenly the spokesperson for our relationship." He said while mock glaring at Aaron.

"Well you did spill wine on my best shirt last night so I think it's only fair." Hotch said with a cheeky grin causing Dave to smack his shoulder lovingly.

"Okay fine you got me there...Okay Garcia you figured me out first you should get to ask first."

Garcia giggled in delight "So! What EXACTLY happened last night?" she asked waggling her eyebrows suggestively at them.

Dave could only laugh he knew she was going to ask that. He explained most of the events from the night before barring the adult moments they teased him relentlessly that he had been clumsy enough to throw wine over his crush and burn the meal he was preparing on the same night

"Hey! Go easy on the man I think we all know what kept him so distracted from his stove." Derek announced with a wink at Dave his statement causing Aaron's cheeks to take on a dashing strawberry tone.

"Okay Emily your question please before Aaron passes out!" Dave laughed getting a cute little glare from Aaron. "These were your terms baby you did this to yourself."

"So how good was the sex?" She asked with a laugh over her third mimosa.

"Good enough to burn the pasta for! Okay JJ next!" Dave announced.

"So it's early days but do you think you've found the next Mrs Rossi?" JJ asked teasingly.

"Hey! Why not the next Mrs Hotchner who said I'm taking Dave's name?" Hotch inserted with little true disgruntlement.

"That's a discussion for later baby but to answer your question, I am cautiously optimistic on that front but one thing at a time. Now Derek!"

"Hmm, is our big scary Boss man a cuddler?" Derek asked causing Prentiss to almost fall out her chair.

"He is in fact a massive cuddler and a snuggler also it's like owning a cat that actually likes you." At this Aaron hides his face completely in his borrowed shirt but they could all see the blush had heightened to his ears.

The statement earned some awws from the ladies at the table finally Dave looked to Spencer and nodded his permission to ask his question.

"Why do you think you were so scared to tell each other?" Reid asked innocently with his own small smile.

"Because they are dumbasses when it comes to love." Emily chipped in causing Dave to laugh.

"I was definitely a dumbass and way too afraid to fail and ruin our friendship but really I can't believe I was ever scared, nothing has come so naturally to me than us."

Aaron finally peeked from the t-shirt and smiled at Dave so warmly that he threw caution to the wind and leaned over for a kiss that had the team once again cheering them on.

This was always supposed to happen to them and it couldn't have come together any more beautifully if it hadn't been a team effort.

#hotch #aaron hotchner/david rossi #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #fanfic

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johnkrrasinski · 5 years ago

Text

paralyzed;

full masterlist

Pairings: Dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 2,032

Warning: SMUT!!!! non-con, degradation, humilation, oral sex (male & female receiving), murder, mention of blood, kidnapping. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: Steve Rogers broke into your house but not for your money.

a/n: i’m back on my dark!steve rogers bullshit.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

"You should be grateful." He stared down at your writhing form, with a knife in his hands that he had just wiped clean from the blood of her wimpy boyfriend. "I could've killed you too if I wanted to."

The tears of terror flowed from your eyes as you miserably attempted to free yourself out of the robes that were bounding you but to no avail. You wanted to scream for help as loud as you possibly could but all that could come out of your tapped lips were pathetic whimpers.

You wanted to run on your wobbly legs as fast as you could even if you knew you were going to stumble to the ground and scrape your knees and it would only make it so easy for him to catch you but at least you had that fleeting sense of freedom, an ephemeral glint of hope that you could actually save yourself from this psycho.

But it was hopeless. He was too strong. You stood no chance trying to outrun him, all it would lead you to was only in a worse scenario.

But hey, at least you are not dead yet.

Steve Rogers had been watching her and her pantywaist of a boyfriend for months now. Every day, he would sit in his RV for hours and he would park it across their house. He watched him leave to work every morning and she would peck him a kiss on the lips before he entered his car and drove away. He never understood what a girl as hot as her was doing with an average, tedious guy like him. She could do so much more. She should be with a man like him that could satisfy her in bed.

It started when she called for a plumber and the first time he saw her, he was instantly captivated by her beauty. "Fucking hell, she was gorgeous," he thought. She was only wearing a white tank top and booty shorts with a cardigan over her shoulders when he arrived. Her cleavage that was peeking through her shirt and her creamy thighs got him and jerking off at the thought of fucking her into the mattress that night. but he remembered the silver ring around her finger and the pictures of her wedding day in the living room, and he didn't like it. There was nothing that he hated more than what he couldn't have.

And so, a nefarious plan was forming in his head. he waited patiently for weeks, camouflaged himself in a baseball hat and hid in his RV. He observed her from afar, he learned her routines and broke into her house once when she left to the grocery store to memorize every corner and every room. He did it so neatly. He was ready, at another Friday night when it was nearing 12 am, after her husband came home and slumbering next to her, he snuck in through the back door with a dark mask covering his face and he tiptoed into the master bedroom.

He was as silent as a ninja that it was way too swift and a way to easy. He stood over the edge of their bed, he watched their peaceful states and he admired how divine she still looked even when she was deep asleep and the lights were out.

He walked to her husband's side of the bed and put his glove covered hand over his mouth and slit his throat. his eyes bulged as soon as he realized what was happening but he couldn't speak or scream, he could only thrash around until steve cut off his windpipe.

And in a matter of seconds, the schmuck was laying lifeless with his eyes wide open, the splash of his blood tainted his white sheets. He dragged the body off the bed to the floor and the thud woke her up.

It took her a few seconds to realize the gory calamity that was happening before her and before she could scream and run, he held her down on the bed and covered her nose with chloroform dipped handkerchief until she went unconscious.

That's how she woke up an hour later, bound and bare. her head was dizzy from what felt like hours of staying still in the same position now and the fear just kept rising and rising with every movement and noise he made. at least she was sure that he wasn't going to murder her just yet.

You had so many questions swirling in your brain, you began searching for the people you might have had done wrong or any suspicious behaviour that you might've had neglected... Not a single one had given you a valid answer.

"You must be wondering who am I and what do I want, huh?" he scoffed. "Don't worry. I'm not here to hurt you or for your money, I'm here for you."

You could feel the bed dipped with the weight of his arms behind you. He loved the view of your ass up in the air, face pressed to the blood tainted sheet and your limbs knotted with ropes. the things he was going to do to you...

"Remember when you called me to fix your sink a few months ago? Boy, you looked miserable as hell. knew it since the first moment I saw you that this guy doesn't have the guts to fuck your brains out. well... Didn't would be more appropriate." he smirked. "I met a lot of housewives and most of them practically begged for me to make them cum but, none of them was as sexy as you."

Gou could hear the clanking sounds of his belt being unfastened and him pulling down his pants and underwear just enough to spring his cock free. He pulled you down harshly to the edge of the bed, your skin burned against the friction.

You tried to push him away with your feet but he overpowered you by keeping you in place. "Don't fucking move, bitch. Or we are gonna do this the hard way, you want that?" You didn't fight back or resist by keeping quiet... not that you could do much anyway. "good."

He bent down his knees and dipped his head into your core, he licked a stripe over your entrance to your clit and lapped on your juices. He devoured you like a famished man and the squelching noises were deeply humiliating.

His beard unpleasantly tickled you and you knew he was gonna leave some beard burn later but that was your least concern right now. "Mmm, so fucking sweet, just like I imagined." He groaned at your taste, sending vibration to your core.

You moaned when two of his fingers intruded you and his thumb was circling your clit. Your body betrayed you by producing the wetness that you resisted. He curled his digits and brushed the spot that made you lose your mind. You sighed when he pumped in and out of you, scissoring your walls. “Look at you dripping all over my fingers. Can’t help it, can you? You need to be fucked hard by a real man so bad.”

The tears in your eyes had blurred your vision. His filthy words made you squirm. “Don’t worry, little slut. I’ll give you what your wimpy husband couldn’t.” He was amused by your reaction as he kept rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves. You mewled through your muffled mouth.

You felt your orgasm approaching, an unwanted eruption. But you were so close to the edge and when he moved in and out of your walls faster, you were pushed over the edge, making a mess all over your captor’s fingers. “That’s it. Go ahead, bitch. Show me what a dirty little slut you are.”

Your legs trembled and you were coming down from your high when Steve turned you around and now you were face to face with your captor. You wanted to curse this debauched man for ruining your life but all you could do was plead with your eyes to stop and let you go.

He stroked his cock and grazed it along your slit and milked it with your wetness before violating your body by pushing it to your entrance. “So fucking tight.” Steve began moving in and out of you, stretching you wide open with his cock. He began by pulling out until only the tip was in and impaled you deeply, jolting your entire body.

He repeated this motion and accelerated his pace. He kept his eyes on the way your breasts bouncing with every thrust. He untied the robe around your ankles and lifted them up onto his shoulders. You could feel him deeper than before and it hurt. “Take it bitch, take my cock like the fucking whore you are.”

Your visions were getting hazy by second. You were locked in your own body. All you could do was lay there and take it until he was done. He sped up, trying to chase his own release and the coil in your abdomen tightened. No, please no, not a second one. You spasmed and you exploded, this one was bigger than the last. Steve only chuckled at the sight while still ramming in and out of you vigorously.

“Fucking whore. Acting like you don’t like it but you’re so desperate to cum, huh? I’m gonna fucking wreck you.” Your walls clenched around him and Steve’s cock throbbed. He threw his head back and groaned and pulled out of you to dump his load all over your body, your breasts and your belly were covered in his thick, white cum.

You felt numb, you could only lay in an uncomfortable position with the robes digging into your skin with tears flowing from your eyes. You didn’t know if you could ever recover from this molestation if you were lucky enough for Steve to let you live… You’d be left with the pieces. At this point, you didn’t know if him ending your life would be a better or worse option. At least, you wouldn’t have to bury your husband or tell the police, your friends and family about what happened.

Just when you thought he was done, he turned you around so your head was hanging on the edge of your bed. “You didn’t think I’m done with you, yet, did you?” He stood tall above you, his face was like a demon creeping up in the dark, ready to pounce on you. “Please, just stop, please. I can’t- I can’t take it anymore.” You stammered through your ragged breaths. “Open your mouth.”

“Please, I’ll give you whatever you want, just, please, let me go.”

“Open your fucking mouth, bitch. Or I’ll do it for you.” He threatened.

You cried as you parted your lips slowly, but Steve was impatient. He propelled the tip into your mouth and he hit the back of your throat. You whined at the pain but the reverberation only aroused him even more. He gripped your breasts and used them as handles and fucked your face. “Gonna use you like the cockslut you are.”

He shut his eyes and grunted, profanities falling from his mouth. Tears were falling from the corner of your eyes and your gag reflexed. You could taste yourself around him. He pinched your nipples and you shrieked. “Suck my cock, slut.” He taunted. You swallowed around his shaft. It didn’t take long for him to drive his hips faster and he was ready to burst at any second.

He convulsed and drained his fluids down your throat. He stayed there for a few more seconds until he had no more drop to give and withdrew. You felt void, used and paralyzed. Your body wasn’t yours anymore and no matter how many showers you were going to take, there was no ridding his traces all over your skin.

“Let’s not waste any more time, yeah? We’re going to your new house. I’m gonna keep you as my personal sex slave. You’re gonna have a new life as my fucktoy and you’re gonna learn how to serve me. Get on your feet.”

#steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers angst #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers au #dark!steve rogers smut #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fanfic #dub con #non con

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virtueangel · 5 years ago

Text

limitless.

chapter two.

wc: 2,337. original publish date: october 3, 2020.

"'And oh, Aunt Em! I'm so glad to be home again!' The end," Van Gogh finishes, closing the children's book and setting it on the table.

"That wasn't a bedtime story!" JFK protests.

"I didn't know that!" Van Gogh volleys.

"What do you mean you didn't know that? Everyone knows The Wizard of Oz!"

Van Gogh shakes his head, almost apologetically. "Clearly not everyone," he mumbles.

Kennedy sits up, a bit taken aback. "You mean you've never read The Wizard of Oz?"

Gogh shakes his head, sliding the book off the table and stroking the cover. The yellow finished cardboard is bumpy beneath his fingernails, and it makes a low scraping sound.

"Surely you've heard of it?" JFK asks, eyebrows furrowing.

"No," Van Gogh admits, feeling defeated.

Kennedy unwraps himself from the blanket and sits up, scooting across the bed to console his best friend. He puts a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, but it is only shaken off. His kind gesture and caring attitude deflate like a released balloon.

"I thought every children's book was a bedtime story."

"Nah, but every children's story has a moral," JFK offers.

"How do you know that? Can't imagine heartless ol' JFK reading a picture book. I can't even imagine him as toddler."

Kennedy graciously ignores the first part of Gogh's comment. "My dads used to read them to me when I was a kid."

Van Gogh's smile falls, but thankfully JFK can't see because he's looking down at the book. He runs his fingers over the words, printed in accented letters, shiny and blue. "I bought this book when I was fourteen years old," he admits.

"You bought it for yourself?"

Van Gogh nods, still entranced by the golden-yellow cover of the children's book. "I liked the artwork," he explains, looking up at his best friend now.

Kennedy scoots away from Van Gogh, falsely assuming his work as Supportive Best Friend is through. "You would. It's all oil pastels and shiny objects -- very girly."

Gogh rolls his eyes. "Not all artwork is girly."

"No," JFK agrees, "just the artwork you like."

Van Gogh shoves the boy, not sorry when he hits his head on the wall.

"Hey!" He bellows, rubbing the back of his head vigorously.

"You deserved that," Van Gogh snaps, standing up to slide the book back into its rightful place on the shelf. "Do you ever get tired of your own voice?"

"Um... no?" Kennedy replies, laughing at his own answer.

Van Gogh runs a hand through his vibrant orange hair in exasperation. He snaps the pristine white bandage wrapped around his head, tied there to put pressure on his self-amputated ear in hopes to relieve some of the pain. It works most days, except when there are loud noises -- like on Friday nights when there are sports games and the streets flood with intoxicated teenagers who insist on letting their excitement out through violence. JFK used to be amongst those alcohol-ridden invalids. He's not anymore, but Van Gogh can't figure out why he changed.

But he's still an arrogant, egotistical asshole nonetheless.

Van Gogh scoffs, tempted to shove the boy again, but decides not to because it may escalate into a fight. Gogh would lose. He loses against everyone, his five-foot-five stature doing him not favours. He knows Kennedy could pin him to the ground in three seconds. His shoulders tense just thinking about it and the illusion of pain makes his bad -- or rather, nonexistent -- ear throb. He raises his hand reflexively, rubbing the side of his head over the bandage.

"Does it hurt?" JFK asks, suddenly dropping his macho-jock façade.

Van Gogh bats his best friend's hand away almost instinctively. "I'm fine. Sorry. It just rings sometimes. No big deal."

"Sounds like a big deal."

"Well it's not, okay? I said I'm fine, so I'm fine," Gogh replies.

JFK holds his hands up in surrender. "Jesus Christ, I was only trying to help."

"I appreciate that," Van Gogh sighs. He looks up at Kennedy and opens his mouth like he has a follow-up, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth and looks away. JFK raises an eyebrow, having noticed the boy's jaw, but doesn't press. He wouldn't want to push his best friend over the edge. God knows he's already so close to the cusp of a fall anyway.

"Your parents coming home soon?" Kennedy asks, reaching for small talk.

Gogh shrugs, eyes fixed on his shoes. He wears black Keds with white toe-tips. The laces are tied in tight bows and are as pristinely white as all of his other possessions -- he'd expect no less from himself. "Who cares?"

"You can't stay here alone on a Friday night," Kennedy says.

"That's why you're here, dipshit," Van Gogh rolls his eyes.

"No, I mean-" JFK sighs. "The whole night. You can't sleep in this house all by yourself."

"Why not?" Gogh asks, looking up at JFK now. The rims of his eyes are red and his jaw is tensed.

JFK huffs, sure the boy is just being difficult now. "Because."

"Because why? Adults do it all the time."

"You're not an adult, Gogh. You're sixteen."

"So?" He spits. "You're sixteen and your dads let you do whatever -- whomever -- the hell you please!"

"This isn't about me, Van Gogh, it's about you and your apparent abandonment issues!"

"I don't have abandonment issues!" He means it to come as an angry denial, but it comes out as a scared protest instead. He tries again, steadying his voice. "I don't have abandonment issues."

JFK shakes his head and raises himself off the bed. "I don't have time for this. Do you want me here or not?"

Van Gogh pulls his socked feet onto the chair and crosses his arms over his chest. His absence of an ear throbs again and it skews his hearing, but he doesn't let on. He's so tired of this up and down with JFK -- they fight, Gogh falls into a vulnerable state, Kennedy drops the argument to console him, Gogh says he's fine, and the cycle repeats. Either they're fighting or they're not. I can't be held hostage by my mental illness, Gogh thinks. I won't be made into a fool.

"Not," he swallows the word, his voice nearly cracking.

"Gogh..." Kennedy says, dropping his attitude.

Gogh wipes at his face, trying to play it off as swiping away mucus from a cold-caused runny nose. "I'll be okay, Kennedy."

Kennedy stands in the doorway, one hand on the smooth white trim -- as pristine as the rest of the room -- and the other hand limp by his side. He turns around to look at Van Gogh, who won't meet his gaze, and thinks of crossing the room to him. He looks so small on that wooden chair, his plain bed made up with hospital corners and brand-new-car-tidy floor filling up with absence. JFK wants to stay with his best friend to make the room feel smaller, to make the house feel fuller, but he knows when to stop pushing. Sometimes it hurts to be edged out of Van Gogh's life... but then again, he's used to it. He's used to being treated as the boy's second choice because sometimes it's easier to confide in a stranger than a lifelong friend. Kennedy doesn't know, but he understands, and sometimes that has to be good enough.

JFK drops his hand from the trim of the doorway and turns back around to face the hallway. He walks between the walls as they close in on him, creating a suffocating ocean with their murky blue hue. He exits the house without glancing back at Van Gogh, forgetting to wonder if he'll be okay. He hates sports games because they make his ears ring, Kennedy reminds himself. Being there won't stop that.

***

John F. Kennedy walks through the door of his house at precisely 8:32pm. His foster dads are both sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket with each other, watching a movie that must be pretty damn entertaining with the way they keep giggling. John hates it when people giggle -- the sound reminds him of butterflies, light and airy and so fragile it can't help but be crushed. "Giggle" is a gross word, too. It's made up of all the letters that no one likes to read to form sounds that no one wants to hear. Well, actually, that's not true -- plenty of people like the letters; they're just too predictably common for JFK to enjoy.

"Dads, I'm home," John announces halfheartedly. His parents are so absorbed in the television show that they barely look up -- maybe that's for the best. Arguing with Van Gogh never leaves Kennedy in a very chipper mood.

He sulks up the stairs to his bedroom, gripping the wooden railing firmly in his ascent. He tries to make a point of stomping just so his dads will turn his way -- he's not in the mood for talking, but he's accustomed to demanding attention.

John flops down on his bed -- it's king-size which means it takes up the majority of the room, but Exclamation!'s biggest playboy has got to decorate his bedroom for the aesthetic somehow. Kennedy's phone buzzes and when the screen illuminates with the name Cleo printed in thin white letters, he almost smiles, but remembers he's still blowing her off. He can't figure out why; most nights he would be ecstatic to whisper sweet little nothings in her ear. He starts to feel bad about ignoring her, but then remembers that she isn't his girlfriend -- he doesn't owe her anything. And even if he did, everyone's expectations of him are so low that even the bare minimum is seen as a prayer answered by god themselves.

He means to only flip his phone over to hide the screen, but he accidentally pushes it off the edge of the bed. It bounces on the carpet, landing corner-first, but JFK is too tired to care about whether or not the screen is cracked. He rolls over onto his back, folding his arms over his stomach and staring at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused. His head starts to rush -- possibly from the cold air intruding his bedroom from the open window, or more likely from emotional strain. He replays through the day, memories of Cleo's hand grasping his bicep and him leaving her alone to go help Van Gogh. Everyone always wants a piece of John F. Kennedy. He never meets anyone's expectations, and yet, everyone religiously seeks his approval.

"Fuck them for relying on me as their source of entertainment," he mutters up at the ceiling. "I wish no one in this goddamn town knew me at all."

And yet, there's still one person exempt from the statement. Sure, everyone in Exclamation! is mushy-headed and smooth-brained, but going to high school here is a pit stop in JFK's life, and a vital one. Because while 99.8% of the Clone High student body give Kennedy a stomachache, there's still 0.2% to be taken out of the perfect whole.

JFK rolls -- no, literally rolls -- off of his king mattress to reunite himself with his phone. He taps the screen, lighting the machine to life. He slides away the "missed call" notification, erasing Cleo's name from his home screen. He unlocks the device and taps on a contact, which speed dials a certain someone wallowing in their room on the other side of town.

The phone goes to voicemail once, twice, but Kennedy doesn't give up. He knows the boy is receiving his calls -- it's not like he wants to be alone on a Friday night.

But then again, he might be drawing or painting or reading a book or doing homework or-

Van Gogh picks up on the second ring of the third call. "Leave me alone, JFK. I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

The line goes silent as Van Gogh fishes for an answer. He comes up short. "Look, I told you to leave because you upset me-"

"Let's go on a trip," Kennedy suggests, intentionally cutting off his best friend to avoid an uncomfortable conversation that would probably result in tears, yelling, or both.

"What?"

"Let's leave Exclamation!. I'm tired of it here, and I know you're not too crazy about it either."

The line goes silent again as Van Gogh hesitates. "Kennedy, that's absurd."

"How do you figure? It's not like your parents would miss you," he replies without realising how it sounds.

Thankfully, Van Gogh doesn't comment on it. If he's hurt by his best friend's words, he doesn't let on. "But we have school..."

"I don't care about school."

"But I do," he says, icicles freezing over his voice.

"Please, Gogh? I need a break from it all."

"What do you need a break from? You're everyone's favourite jock. Scudworth loves you. You're somehow pulling straight As even though you never do your work... I'm betting you're banging one or all of your teachers."

"I am not banging all of my teachers!" Kennedy exclaims defensively.

Van Gogh smirks through the phone. "But you are banging one."

JFK shakes off the boy's words. How does the point always manage to get away from him? "I know you're unhappy, Van Gogh."

"That's an understatement," he scoffs.

"Right. Well, don't you want to explore the world?"

Van Gogh doesn't respond.

"Draw? Read? Write?"

JFK still isn't selling him.

"Paint?" Kennedy tries one last futile hope.

Gogh's ears -- ear -- perks up. "Paint the whole world?"

"Well, we'd only be visiting a little at a time-"

"Okay," he replies too hastily, cutting off his friend. He swallows, running a hand through his hair to smooth it down as if the boy can see him through the phone. His fingers snag on the bandage again. He gives up. "Okay. Let's go on a road trip."

"You mean it?"

"Sure." Van Gogh can hear Kennedy smiling through the phone, his expression melting like honey and dripping down the line. "Why the hell not?"

#clone high #clone high van gogh #clone high jfk #jfgogh #fanfiction #comfort character #ship #lgbt

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halothenthehorns · 4 years ago

Text

All in the Family

Warning for some blood and gore in this one

Chapter 145: Silver and Opals

HPHPHPHP

Something constricted over his face, pinching his nose shut and clasping down too close to his mouth, the edges of it just below his eyes and on the curve of his jaw, something pointed digging just beneath his chin on one side.* He breathed in the dusty scent right onto his tongue, there was no natural lighting in the gloom for him to see what was happening.

"Guys!" Remus squeaked at once, his hands scrambling over nothing of value as he reached up to try pulling it off. "Guys!?" There was a muzzle on his face, somebody had slapped a muzzle back on him!

"Somebody get me out of this thing!" He was already howling like an animal, he could hear the desperation in his own voice and he didn't care as his skin pulled and stretched and it wouldn't come off! This was no cruel prank, even Sirius would never do something like this as a joke.

"Sirius!? James?! Help!" He couldn't even back away as whatever it was held him in place by his face, and there was screaming all around him now. He couldn't even tell if it was his own. "Padfoot! Prongs! Pete?! Somebody!"

He could still breathe, it was neither tightening nor loosening, but that was somehow worse as his eyes adjusted to nothing. He forced them to remain open. They were not in the dimly lit hospital! He'd rather black out than live like this though. There was nothing but blank wall in front of him, he couldn't feel a single one of them around him, his breath was hot and kept blasting right back into his mouth with no escape. "Sirius! Sirius!" His nails were scraping dangerously against the ridges of his eyes, determined to rip it off by any means necessary.

Peter wasn't sure if those cursed robes once thrown out of Grimmauld place had been sent here, or if they weren't one a kind, but he wasn't getting the air to ask as the material wrapped tight around his throat. He gasped and spluttered in disgust, hearing the shouts and cries around him, but instinctively tried to vanish with a little pop that thankfully worked. Scampering a few feet away to be sure as they fell back harmlessly to the rack, he changed back and yelled in fright, spinning on the spot with no idea where to begin.

Regulus was hanging onto the handle of a black cabinet and stumbling dangerously, about to fall into something that seemed to have no true back and no telling what it would do.

James had tried the same trick, but Prongs's hooves slid uselessly on the ground as it held tight, so he changed back and lashed his hand onto an already trembling case full of jewelry that was about to topple him as the black cord wound tighter up his leg and tried to continue pulling him back towards a dangerously whirling device that glinted of metal even in the non lighting. He tried desperately to go for his wand while being torn in two, but didn't seem to be making much progress.

Sirius couldn't dare try the same, wrestling with a panther that had him ruthlessly pinned to the ground by its claws digging into his chest. Only a hastily thrown up shield charm was keeping his neck safe, and the glistening fangs shoved his wand's barrier a little lower to the ground every time.

Remus was losing his shit, he hadn't even gone for his wand to get out of that thing keeping him in place, it was too dark for even his sharp eyes to see exactly what it was.

A splattering of blood suddenly came from above and he looked up to see Frank yelling as a broom slammed him repeatedly into the ceiling, he'd bet anything he was incapable of letting go. He couldn't even spot the other two to know the horrors they were in.

Lashing out his hand to grab the back of Regulus' robes, he verbally threw a spell wildly at James while issuing a silent apology. It worked as it should, the severing charm cut straight through down to the bone, releasing him and a howl of pain as Regulus got his feet back under him.

All Prongs seemed to notice was that he was free and he immediately took in the same situation. Feeling guilty as hell for prioritizing, but Remus was screaming his lungs out so he was definitely more alive than Longbottom not even doing that anymore, Peter turned to Regulus and said, "mind your head."

He needed no further instruction as he once again over extended his magic, shooting Regulus up to the ceiling with far too much vigor. His arms had come up to cover his head on instinct, so when he found himself next to Longbottom he reached over to yank him off without any further hesitation as Peter tried to lower them back to the ground. The broom fell to the floor with an innocent clatter now that its rider was free.

"No James!" Sirius called calmly and clearly from where he was still wrestling with the cursed item like it wasn't salivating to rip his head off, hands straining to keep his shield up on the thin wood, every muscle visible in his arms and covered in sweat, a small puddle of blood pooling along his sides from the rivulets of cuts because of those hind claws. "Get Remus out!"

Moony had stopped calling for help and was now just screaming incoherently. Heeding Sirius by instinct alone, he changed course and rushed over to slash his wand through the air like a whip as he cried, "relashio!"

It worked thankfully, the bony hand fell away, the fingers uncurling with an ugly crackling noise. Remus finally staggered back clutching at his mouth and gasping in relief. James put a tentative hand on his arm in case he still lashed out in fear, watching closely to see the bloody scratches under his eyes in case that thing had done any worse to him, but Remus turned and held onto his arm still fighting back tears, his knees shaking as he held painfully onto James' elbow while he got his breath back. The few salty ones that leaked out must have stung terribly as they mingled with the blood, but he didn't let go to brush them away.

Prongs tried to be as reassuring as he could while he started dragging Moony back towards a still struggling Sirius, still limping as heavily as Remus' weak appendages. Peter was by Sirius' side now, but none of the spells he used were working anywhere past causing stuffing to fly as the creature continued.

There was a terrible look on Wormtail's face for whatever he was about to blast next to get that thing away, and James desperately tried, "finite," first despite his friend trying to cut off circulation to his arm.

The mock animal went still, and then zapped back to a plush sized toy. The desperation was still in Peter's eyes as he went towards the back, but James seized him and pushed him towards Regulus hovering over an unconscious Frank. "Walk him through some healing charms Pete."

Sirius struggled to his feet but was managing it well enough, so James sorrowfully wrenched his arm free and transferred a still hyperventilating Moony to him, hating to turn his back on the pair as Sirius tried to follow but couldn't as Remus latched onto his back and Padfoot groaned in pain. James was already rushing to the back alone despite leaving a thick trail of blood.

The moment he stepped through the curtain he heard the problem and snapped back to Prongs, which thankfully saved his human ears from the tinkling trance of music holding Evans and Alice in place, blood already starting to dribble from inside their ears. Their eyes were wide and glassy, and he huffed in frustration he could see nothing to turn off. Perhaps an intruder alarm, or something irreparable had broken upon their landing.

He stepped farther in, turned clumsily on the spot, and began nudging the two gently out with his horns while trying to favor three legs. They started moving, thankfully, but slow stumbling steps that made his limb feel like he was trailing a log behind him now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off. He feared that numbness, it could not be a good thing.

As the two stepped back into the rest of the store, it visibly started to wear off, and he changed back, collapsing to the ground in cold flashes of pain, using what little breath he had left to cast a healing charm. He passed out before he could see the bone, muscles, tendons, and flesh knit back together.

Lily and Alice screamed in tandem at the sight before them, burning their already ringing ears. Alice vaulted over the counter like it wasn't there to get to Frank and Lily dropped to her knees in a puddle of Potter's blood. She pushed his pants leg aside and saw he'd reduced it down to a deep cut instead, still oozing.

"He okay?" Sirius demanded from above her, turning a bit gray but holding his wand steady, clearly ready to use it on him if he didn't pass out first. Once again his chest was desecrated by multiple scratch marks, Lupin hanging onto his arms for life, as he watched her every move like that was no hamper at all.

"I got the rest," she promised. "He'll live."

Sirius released an erratic laugh that terrified her as she got her arms under his limp form and began dragging him out of the darkening pool for her own sanity, only managing a few feet where the counter stopped before she sat down beside him in exhaustion, the six of them sizing each other up and just taking in their next precious breath.

"So, who wants to find the book?" Regulus whispered into the following silence.

Sirius' laughter increased, his arms going behind him to hold Lupin in place as his eyes stayed on Potter.

"Stop that," she scolded in exhaustion. He didn't until she got wearily to her feet and used shaking fingers to prod gently along his chest, causing him to hiss in pain and eyes to finally flinch onto her properly. He gently pushed her hand back and finally turned his wand on himself, but stopped quickly and put it away.

He hadn't managed to get them all, and her hands trembled terribly as she got the last few to close while trying desperately to ignore the nausea of seeing the blood flow while he watched her with a steadfast expression.

She tried to go around him to Lupin who was still shaking and gasping, but Sirius crowded him against the wall and tightened his grip with a reproachful look as he jabbed his head at Frank instead. Lupin was taller, she could see the damage under his eyes, his nose was swollen, red, and dripping blood, but he didn't seem an immediate concern as he kept his face tipped towards the ceiling and kept breathing, so that wasn't a fight she was going to pick as she did so.

Pettigrew had walked Regulus through it for the most part, oddly as she'd expect him to do it himself, but he'd only gotten the worst of it and Lily tried her best to help the rest through. She still worried they hadn't done enough when Frank still lay passed out and looked pleadingly back at Potter and Black, who weren't in a position to help anyone in their state.

With a mental slap, she reminded herself she could do this! She wasn't going to let Frank suffer brain damage now! Fumbling desperately with the straps of her bag, she knew for a fact she could do at least one quick potion to help any internal swelling go down. Her hands continued trembling though as she started crushing ingredients on the filthy floor, worried about contamination, her mind starting to fog over as she kept wondering what if she did it wrong, what if she made this worse too?

Alice took her hand, her own flew to her shining amber eyes. "What can I do?" She demanded.

Her first instinct was still to push her away, to not let her guard down now, she could do this herself; but Severus' biting insult flashed through her mind to stop her. She was more than just a mudblood, she did deserve to be here! She pushed the empty cauldron towards Alice and told her in a remarkably steady voice, "start filling this with water, slowly. Only a cup at a time, I'll tell you when to stop."

She still patiently went through every step in her mind before she did it to double check herself, but the potion came out the exact right color as she ladled out the first spoonful and gently eased it into his mouth.

Peter got the nicked Weasley's potion kit out of Alice's bag and went back over to Prongs, nearly tipping the entirety but one drop of that blood restorative into his mouth before wearily handing it to Sirius.

"Thanks," Padfoot did not sound like he meant that as he tapped it, took a sip of his own, and pocketed it, but Peter nodded all the same as he hovered awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," he told them sincerely, though he wasn't sure how much Remus was listening.

"You should be," Sirius clearly meant that, and Peter winced. "Hell Peter, you nearly cut his leg off, what were you-"

"Guys," James groaned from their feet. They glanced down to see he looked every color of awful, but he was blinking dazedly up at them.

Sirius tried to bend down on instinct so he didn't have to crane his neck so far, but Moony still refused to let go and Sirius was starting to look a little flustered as the realization kept hitting him he couldn't help both at once. He was far more angry at himself than he'd ever let anyone see. Only this damning fact had stopped him from telling Evans to back off in the first place.

James didn't seem to want much help anyways, pushing Peter's hands away until he was leaning comfortably against the wall so he could see every corner properly, but he still had no energy to use the most minor of spells. Even his voice came out rough, but kind as he looked at Peter and said, "thanks mate. Everyone's okay, that's the important part." Frank was starting to stir as well, and the girls were dabbing a bit of that potion as far into their own ears as they reasonably could.

"I am sorry," Peter still insisted, but James waved him off with a faint smile.

Sirius was done being nice though. "James didn't try to cut Remus' face off to-"

"He did good Sirius," James repeated firmly now, frowning up at him as best he could from the floor, but he knew Sirius could hear it at the very least. "Who knows what the hell anyone else would do, grab the book? Freeze up? Can't you just be grateful?"

Prongs really meant that, and Sirius watched him sadly as he realized he didn't feel the same. It was the principle of the matter, the instinctive magic he'd heard each of them use underneath Remus' pleas for help. There was a fracture now when he looked at Peter he decided he was done trying to fix for James' sake.

During those three weeks he hadn't been speaking to any of them, Peter had never crossed his mind. Going back to Grimmauld hadn't even crossed his mind, he'd considered living in the Forbidden Forest for the summer without a second thought to Regulus. Only because of all of this mess was he even making more of an effort to involve himself with him, but he'd spent every waking hour wishing he could talk to James again, trying to pretend Remus had just over reacted and would want to come talk to him any day now, forcing himself to respect Moony's wishes and not start the conversation.

He'd been in the wrong, and he knew that now, he still felt the guilt of those actions every time he looked at Remus. He'd done Peter wrong by viciously over reacting to this future, but he'd tried what he could to make amends for that. He didn't hate Peter or Regulus, but he was done trying to make it more.

"Sorry," Peter whispered one last time.

"Yeah, so am I," Sirius stated, but there was something wrong with the delivery. There was a sincerity in there that did not lean towards an apology Peter suddenly flat knew he didn't want to know the meaning of.

James swallowed at the following silence and said, "Maybe I'll try losing an eye next, get out of here looking like Moody!"

Sirius got a grudging laugh and played along like nothing had happened. "First Harry, now him, you trying to mimic everyone in this future mate?"

"Just the cool people," he grinned.

Peter sighed in relief when Regulus summoned the book to get them out of this place and went quickly back over to him. James watched him go with a deep ache of loss as he gingerly stepped over the thick blood still covering most of the floor.

"Silver and Opals," Regulus said clearly and more calmly than Sirius would have given him credit for, as traumatized as he still looked glancing around at every single thing and even the floorboards like they were still going to be attacked any moment inside the rest of Borgin and Burkes. He hadn't been able to see what Regulus survived, but guessed it as he particularly kept eyeing that black wardrobe.

Both Black boys had been in here on multiple occasions well enough they recognized the store now that their eyes had adjusted to the gloom and Evans had lit her wand tip for light. It glinted repeatedly off the metal fan still spinning lazily, the edges razor sharp as a blade and brushing a pleasant breeze across them all, its cord like a dead snake not stopping the movement. Sirius couldn't tear his eyes away from its progress, never ceasing the whole chapter.

Peter was back over here, so Regulus felt safe enough to keep his eyes mostly focused on Harry's speculation as he did a silent one of his own. They were all flinching away from the jewelry case and wondering if they were finally going to hear what Malfoy had bought from this very place, and who it was going to be used on.

Katie Bell, unintentionally, as she'd been the delivery but not the target before it went wrong. Regulus took in every detail he could even as terrifying as it was to describe the sequence of events. All of them spent a very long time checking every spot in here with only their eyes to make sure that necklace wasn't available now, and even still never looked at anything for too long in fear it would curse them next.

Sirius was still practically supporting all of his weight as Remus continued to lean into his back, hands holding tight to his upper arms as if restraining Sirius from doing something instead of himself, which was falling to the floor, face still turned away to breathe in freely even as his fingers held tight. Sirius had to fight the urge to offer him a piggyback ride his knees were still shaking so bad.

"Hey, Remus," Sirius forced his hands to stay in place at his side, letting Remus cling to him in whatever way he wanted in front of the others. Keeping his voice soft and gentle, if James heard he wasn't giving it much notice as he continued listening in worry as McGonagall was caught up to speed, and Malfoy's detention ruined his only suspect. "If you're so worried about being distant, then why not knock it off? Nobody's holding any of this against you."

It was maybe a little hysterical, the laugh that came out of him. That Sirius decided to try talking to him like nothing had happened in between.

Remus let his forehead rest against the back of his shoulder now, he couldn't smell the sweat and blood through his burning nose but he could feel it. Finally his lungs began to even out as he pressed a kiss where none could see as he soaked in his meaning. What Peter had done was the ultimate betrayal of this future and James was still trying to work with him. Ironically Sirius was also reassuring him of the fear Padfoot knew nothing about. Sirius wouldn't go anywhere even if Remus did confess his crush.

He was still reluctant to do so, traitorously letting his mind play him now that he could pretend this was going to last forever, there was nothing in these environments to stop him keeping Sirius to himself. He'd have to tell Sirius when they got back to school, he still knew himself well enough he might murder the first person who made a pass at Sirius in front of him, or Sirius himself, and not be able to explain himself. He had time to do that though, ages of this book left plus the next, and possibly even more if they kept cycling through Harry's life.

It was probably the delirium in him that suddenly found he never wanted it to end.

HPHPHPHP

*If you would like to feel what Remus went through, pinch your nose with either hand using thumb and forefinger, the latter of which and middle finger will rest under your eye, while your ring finger and pinky would sit below your jaw digging in. Now imagine that as a skeleton holding on and not letting go while your other hand tries pulling that off.

The one inspiration I take from the movies, and it's that creepy thing. I cringe every time the scene's coming even though I know it is, and it just grabs Harry's wrist!

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harper-hook · 5 years ago

Text

Exploration | Harry Hook x Reader

Prompt: # 90 “That’s hot.” “It is?” “Yeah, makes me wonder...” “Wonder what?” “What else you’re hiding.” #95 “Can I kiss you now?”

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Author’s Note: This story would’ve been out a long time ago if it hadn’t gotten deleted twice. WTF Tumblr?!

It was a slow night at Ursula’s Fish and Chips shop. You drummed your fingers on the table, scanning the room out of habit. A few members of the crew were playing cards at some side tables and some were in the middle of the floor, wrestling and carrying on.

The chair next to you scraped the floor and Uma plopped down. “This is so fucking boring.” She complained, resting her head in the palm of her hand. “You got that right.” You scanned the room again, stopping on the wrestle match in the middle.

It was Harry and Gil in the ring, all sweaty and panting. You smiled when Harry looked up and made brief eye contact. He grinned and finally muscled Gil out of the ring. You laughed and clapped as the rest of the crew raised up, cheering. Harry’s next victim joined him in the ring and you turned your attention back to Uma.

You really didn’t like the look she was giving you. “So,” She started. “Are you guys gonna hook up or what?” Your mouth fell open, spluttering for a response. “Cause if you need help, I’ll gladly help.” She smirked, looking a bit too pleased with herself.

“Uma!” You hissed, motioning for her to keep her voice down. She just cackled in response. Harry loved to embarrass you by being overdramatic and flirting with you in front of the entire crew. At first, it bothered you but now you really looked forward to it. A little too forward to it.

“Just tell him you’ve got nipple piercings and he’ll jump you.” She snickered. “Oh my God, will you shut up?” You groaned, banging your head on the table. It had been a good idea at the time but trying to keep them from getting infected without proper medicine that the Isle lacked? Not so good.

“Hi Uma. (Y/N).” Gil greeted, sitting down on the other side of you. “What’s wrong?” He asked, concerned. “Nothing, Gil. She’s just moody.” Uma giggled. You rolled your eyes, picking your head up. “Moody about her nipples?” Gil asked, confused now.

You inhaled a sharp breath, whipping your head to face him. “How did you know that?!” You snapped, clenching your fists. “I was standing right behind you guys.” He replied cheerfully. You willed yourself not to get pissed, it was Gil for fuck’s sake. Barely an evil bone in his body.

“What else did you hear?” You asked through gritted teeth, proud that you kept your calm tone. “Nothing else.” He shrugged. You were immediately relieved. Gil was Harry’s best friend and if Gil found out, Harry would know before the hour was up.

You turned back to Uma who had the decency to look a bit guilty. “My bad.” She laughed.

“‘Ey.” Wow, fate just really loved testing you. “What’s up with ye lot?” Harry swaggered up, all sweaty from being in the ring. “Nothing.” The three of you chorused. Harry’s eyes narrowed before he sat on top of the table, eventually strewing himself out in front of you.

“Heard you squawkin’ a fit over here, luv. Made me lose my match.” Harry hummed. You flushed, not realizing how loud you were. “So what were ya talking about?” He addressed the three of you. “Nothing.” “Nothing.” “(Y/N)’s nipple rings.” Gil announced through a mouthful of food.

You let out an embarrassed shriek as Uma shouted at Gil, making Harry roar with laughter. You covered your face with your hands as Uma snapped at Gil to get out and Harry was wheezing with laughter.

“Really, luv?” Harry asked, pulling your hands away. “Stop.” You whined, pulling your hands away. “It must be true. Yer red like a tomato.” He snickered. You growled and shoved Harry off the table, him landing on the floor with an ‘oomph!’.

You practically pushed your chair over as you stormed out of the Shoppe, Uma yelling for you to come back. You ignored her and Gil’s attempt at apologizing while you were still pissed, and made your way back to the ship.

---

You dropped your shoes and coat on the floor by the door, done with this night. You just wanted to crawl into bed and die.

You had just gotten comfortable and shut your eyes when your door slammed open, making you practically jump out of your skin. You shot up and faced Harry who was standing in your doorway like it was a normal everyday thing.

“Get out.” You frowned, crossing your arms. Harry snorted. “Not a chance, sweetheart. We got some unfinished business.” It was clear what he meant, if his eyes flickering down to your chest didn’t tell you.

Harry took his sweet time, throwing his jacket on top of yours and walking over to you. You swallowed your nerves as you looked up at him. “Can I kiss you now?” He asked roughly. “Yes...” You whispered as Harry tilted your chin up and pressed his lips to yours.

He moved slowly against your lips at first, getting faster as the need for air grew. Finally, he pulled away, sucking on your bottom lip. He smiled at you. “Holy shit...” You breathed out, trying to catch your breath. He chuckled, gently pushing on your shoulders.

You rested on your elbows as Harry crawled on top of you, his knee brushing between your legs, making your breath catch. He grinned maliciously, ‘accidentally’ doing it again.

Harry dipped his head down, kissing on your collarbone. You threw your head back in a moan, your hands reaching for his blindly. You pulled his hands to the bottom of your shirt, helping drag the bottom of your shirt up.

Harry grinned, you returning it albeit a bit nervous. You raised up to help him with your shirt. The cool air made your nipple harden even further. “Damn...” Harry murmured, running a hand over your right nipple as gently as he could.

He turned the rings over, looking at the small silver balls on either end. His left giving it the same treatment. You jerked as he twisted one a bit too fast. “Easy...” You whimpered, desperately wanting his knee back between your legs.

Harry finally pulled away, satisfied by his thorough inspection. “That’s hot.” He told you, nodding his head in confirmation. “It is?” You smirked. “Yeah, makes me wonder...” He trailed. “Wonder what?” “What else you’re hiding.”

Harry attacked your lips with a new vigor. You eagerly returned it, trying to tug Harry’s shirt over his head. “Shit.” You groaned as he ground his hard on against you.

“Stop.” Harry ordered, making you stop in your tracks. Harry lowered one foot to the floor and started unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants and boxers down. You froze for a second before quickly following his lead. You pushed down your skirt and panties, barely kicking them off before Harry was on top of you again.

Harry brushed his lips over yours, bringing you into a sweet and gentle kiss before he pushed his length into you. “Fuck!” You hissed, arching your back. Harry hissed at the cold metal against his chest.

Harry paused, letting you adjust to him. You blushed heavily as he brushed some stray hair off your forehead, licking and blowing on your collarbone. You shivered.

Then it was like he did a 180. He pulled back, smirking over your naked form. “This,” He reached down and pinched your nipple, making you howl. “Is mine, all mine. You are all mine.” He growled possessively. “Yes!” You panted.

He grinned and slammed back into you, setting a fast pace. You cursed and swore, clawing Harry's back as he didn't let up. "Harry, I'm gonna-" You cut yourself off with a moan as you came, hard. Your vision swirled as Harry finally took mercy on you and paused.

Harry tsked, looking over you like a cat that caught the canary. "You always were a sensitive one, eh Dolly?" To punctuate, he flicked your nipple. Throat sore and shredded, you just trembled.

"Round two." Harry muttered, this time throwing your legs up over his shoulders. You actually shrieked as he reentered you, going for a slower but deeper pace. "You're gonna come for me again." He declared. You felt like your nerves were on fire, overstimulated.

"Can't... can't..." Your hoarse voice echoed in-between the sounds of slapping skin. For a moment, you forgot who you were dealing with. Harry didn't give up. Ever.

"You can." Harry said. "You can and will." He reached a hand down your folds and found your sensitive bud."Right now!" Harry's voice shook as his release came closer and closer. You screamed again, tiding out your second wave of ecstasy as black dots slowly clouded your vision.

You blinked slowly, raising up ever so slightly. Your body was sore and felt like a big bruise. You groaned, catching Harry's attention. "Easy lass." He gently pulled you to him and pulled a sheet up to your waist's.

"Thought I killed ya there." He laughed, a nervous edge to his voice. You giggled as Harry rested his chin on your head. "Never took you for a cuddler." You remarked.

"I guess we have a lot more to learn about each other." He smirked. "Yeah." You said peacefully, relishing in his embrace.

#harry hook #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook imagine #harry hook x reader #descendants harry #harry hook smut

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rhysand-vs-fenrys · 5 years ago

Text

NSFN Headcanons: ToG BDSM

On their first anniversary, Lysandra brought home a little gift for Aedion: a cock ring.

This device squeezed the base of his shaft so tightly that it became nearly impossible to climax.

Aedion obediently slipped it on. Soft, it wasn’t anything to be concerned about.

Then Lysandra began to tease him.

Nude, she straddled his hips. While Aedion began to kiss and suck at the curve of her breast, Lysandra pulled his hand down between her legs.

Her husband obediently began to tease her wet core with his fingers. Sliding first one broad knuckle through her lower lips and then burying his longest finger inside her all the way up to the knuckle.

Aedion fucked Lysandra with that finger- his thumb swirling her knot- while she loosed breathless moans in his ear.

It always set his blood on fire. He stiffened-

Soft, the cock ring wasn’t anything to be concerned about- this wasn’t a lie. But Aedion grew as he played with Lysandra’s body, and very quickly that slight pressure around his cock became more and more noticeable.

Aedion’s movements slowed, but Lysandra grabbed his wrist and forced him to keep moving, keep going. She rode his hand and used one of her own to pinch and flick his nipples.

Aedion couldn’t help it- he kept growing harder, and the band kept getting tighter.

Lysandra didn’t let herself climax. When she was at the very edge of release she pushed Aedion’s hand away and stood.

She grabbed his cock and Aedion winced. He was too sensitive, and her touch actually hurt. Lysandra stroked his length, forcing Aedion to endure the sensation until he started to feel pleasure in this pain.

He whimpered, and Lysandra smiled.

“Get on your knees” she whispered.

Aedion would only take answers from his wife. Obediently, he slid off the couch and knelt on the floor. His cock was swollen around the ring- even the sight of it was painful. Lysandra lifted a leg and placed it over his shoulder.

Aedion knew his duty. He wrapped his hands around her hips and held her to his mouth as he began to devour her core.

Lysandra combed her fingers through his hair as she gasped and panted.

She didn’t warn Aedion before she transformed.

Her hair shortened, her shoulders grew broader even as her chest flattened, her hips narrowed, and her muscles shifted. The knot between her legs that Aedion was running his tongue across began to change.

Aedion adjusted as the clit turned into a cock that filled his mouth and throat. With Lysandra’s leg over his shoulder he couldn’t pull away, and soon she was well and truly fucking his throat.

Lysandra’s testicles formed just as she came in Aedion’s throat. He choked on her release- but submissive little princes didn’t deserve a warning.

Aedion coughed and sputtered, but he quickly returned his mouth to her length to clean up what he’d failed to catch.

Lysandra pulled her leg back and hauled up Aedion by his wild blonde hair. She dragged him to the edge of the sofa and threw him forward over the arm.

Aedion whimpered. His cock was twitching in its binding, and now it was an angry purple. She grabbed it tightly in her hand and his legs gave out. Pain and pleasure- each agonizing in a different way.

Loosing his footing meant the armrest was all that was holding up his ass. Hard as granite and soft as silk- it was pale and inviting. It would be rude to turn down such a warm welcome.

She grabbed a phial of lubrication from the side table and poured it down the crack in his ass. When Aedion moved to brace his legs again she delivered another vicious squeeze to his member. He shouted out and collapsed again.

While he was down, Lysandra lined her cock up with his well-used hole and pushed in.

Her pace was measured, but hardly merciful. He was on the tips of his does, shouting out in both pain and ecstasy as she drove herself into him. Lysandra didn’t pause or pull out to ease in half an inch at a time. She went slowly enough to not cause damage, but he had no choice but to take her in a single thrust.

Once inside, Lysandra gave him a few breaths to adjust. Goosebumps rose on Aedion’s arms. A thin drip of cum was hanging from the tip of his bound cock.

She was relentless once she began to move. Lysandra thrust into her husband hard enough to shift the sofa, and while she kept a near painful grip on his cock, she stroked him in time with her movements.

Aedion couldn’t hear the sounds he made. He was utterly destroyed by the sensations coursing through him.

Every slam forward into his body would drive her cock against the knot inside his body, sending a sharp wave of raw pleasure through his body. His nipples would scrape against the fabric of the couch- the only attention they would get as his hands clung to the cushion for dear life. His cock was brutally sensitive- but if Lysandra eased her grip he whimpered and begged her to hurt him.

He begged quite a lot.

Begged for her to be rougher, gentler, go harder, softer, to cum inside him and fill him with her seed, to pull out and give him a chance to catch his breath- Aedion was very good at begging, and Lysandra always loved to hear his breathless, slightly nasal way of pleading.

But more than anything, he begged to cum.

Begged to be freed of the cock ring and allowed release. He tried bargaining- swearing she could destroy his ass with the largest cock she could create, promising to be her obedient bedroom toy for weeks or even months on end- all she had to do was let him cum. Just once.

Lysandra gave into a few of his desires- she squeezed him harder and thrust in hard enough to bruise. She came inside him twice- until creamy white froth dripped from his hole every time she pulled back.

But she never let him cum.

Lysandra dug her nails into Aedion’s back and scratched the skin, giving him even more pain to fuel his fire. A tiny dribble of cum escaped his cock as he threw his head back and roared, but the poor little prince couldn’t release.

With a chuckle and a sigh, Lysandra pulled out of Aedion’s ass.

It gaped as he twitched and groaned. The stretched entrance opening and closing around nothing but air- looking all to much like his mouth had when she came without warning (but this time covered in much more white release).

“Please,” Aedion whimpered, “more- no more-”

“Which is it?” Lysandra bent down to whisper in his ear.

He just whimpered in response- even Aedion wasn’t sure which he wanted. Neither. Both. He was shaking from his need to climax.

Lysandra drew a sharp fingernail across the head of his cock and he groaned.

She then sat down and drew Aedion forward, forcing her husband’s mouth onto her cock, “Clean me.”

He did- obediently and with vigor. He was her hungry little slut, and he licked away his wife’s release from the cock she’d made to fuck him. He was still bent over the armrest throughout the process.

“Good boy,” Lysandra purred. She made Aedion taste her a while longer, until he was eagerly sucking at her cock, readying it to fuck him.

“Does my little prince deserve to cum yet?” she whispered.

“No,” he released her shaft, his eyes bright. “If my mistress has to ask, I haven’t done enough yet.”

“What a good little husband you are,” Lysandra stroked her cock. She made sure Aedion was watching as she sent her magic through it and made it thicker.

A tinge of fear crept into Aedion’s eyes, but also desire.

“I’m going to fuck you until it hurts to walk. Then, if you’re an obedient little prince, I might just let you come. What do you think?”

He climbed over the armrest at last, forcing Lysandra to lie back on the sofa. Aedion straddled her hips. He reached back to grab her new member and began to force himself down on it. While he gasped and cried out, she stroked his own aching cock.

“Whatever you want,” Aedion whispered.

“Happy Anniversary,” she said as she began to fuck him once more.

#throne of glass #tog #headcanon #headcanons #mine #nsfn #not safe for november #lysandra #aedion #my writing

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nastybuckybarnes · 5 years ago

Text

Bad Dream - Four

Pairing: Dark!Steve X Reader

Summary: A year after wiping your memory and keeping you for himself, Steve Rogers is happy. Happier than he’s ever been. With you and your daughter, life couldn’t be any better. The only problem? You’re starting to remember things.

Warnings: Smut, Angst, The plot Thickensssss

Word Count: 2.1K

A/n: So I have 5k followers??? When did this happen?!?!?! I love you all and I’m so sorry I haven’t been posting as often. I’m trying real hard to get back into the flow of things!!

!!!THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!!

MADNESS MASTERLIST EDITED POORLY! BAD DREAM MASTERLIST

~*~

"You're sure he's responsible for this? This isn't something created in your mind because of PTSD or something?"

You sniffle and wipe the tears off of your cheeks. "I read his reports with my own eyes. He says he's getting tired of me, that he wants to hurt me. I-I'm afraid, dad." He hugs you tightly then sighs.

"I'll see if I can get a safe house set up for you within the next couple of days. You shouldn't stay in the city. Start towards your grandmother's place then wait for me to call. Leave immediately, I don't want him following you." You nod and grab the bag you packed off of the floor, scoping Sarah up in your other arm. You walk to the front door and open it, gasping and dropping your bag to your feet when you see the tall blond standing with his fist raised, ready to knock.

"Perfect timing, sweetheart. Ready to go?" You look over your shoulder towards your dad as Steve gently takes your wrist in his hand.

"Hello, Mr. (Y/l/n)." He nods to your father, eyes focused on your face.

"You sure you don't wanna stick around for a while longer there, Steve? You and I have some catching up to do." You look over your shoulder at your father, desperation and fear in your eyes.

"I wish I could, Sir. But (Y/n) and I have an entire weekend resort to get to, don't we sweetheart?" Steve kisses your cheek, gentle and kind, so kind that it throws you off your rhythm.

Your dad furrows his brows at the obedient and happy way you now follow Steve. It's as if a switch has been flipped.

"Thank you for having Sarah and me over. We'll have to visit again soon. You don't see each other enough at all." Your voice has an almost robotic way to it and your father frowns.

"For sure, honey. You two drive safe. Call me if you need anything at all." He hugs you tightly then kisses Sarah's cheek.

Steve places his hand on the small of your back and ushers you out the door, giving your father a tight-lipped smile and a half-nod. Your father simply stares after the three of you with furrowed brows.

"I see you have everything packed and ready to go," Steve says, nodding to the suitcase you picked up on your way out of your father's house. "Y-yeah. I told you we'd be ready. I know you wanted to leave right away." He nods, kissing the top of your head.

He climbs into the driver's seat as you buckle Sarah into her car seat. With a few deep breaths, you find yourself in the passenger's seat, hands clenched tightly into fists.

"Where is this Vacation you have planned? If I may ask." He looks over at you as the car starts.

"It's a surprise. But I'm sure you'll like it. Bucky's gonna meet us there and take Sarah for the night, then you and I will have the place to ourselves. And I'll fill you up with another baby. You want that? Want me to fuck another baby into you?" The way he says it so casually makes you shiver. "I do. If that's what you want." The words flow naturally out of your mouth and for the first time in a year you question why you've said them. Why his happiness matters more than yours.

~*~

"Thanks for taking her, Buck. Me and (Y/n) are in need of some private time together, if you know what I mean." Steve wraps an arm around you possessively, his hand resting on your backside.

"Hey man, I totally get it. Nat and I have missed this little menace!" He blows a raspberry on Sarah's cheek and she giggles.

"I'll bring her back tomorrow night?" He and Steve have a silent conversation with their eyes and you can't help but get nervous.

"Alright. Be good for uncle Bucky. Mommy and I will see you tomorrow. Okay, Buggy?" Sarah reaches for Steve, big eyes filling with tears. "Oh, sweetheart." He hugs her tightly, pulling her from Bucky's grasp.

You embrace the two of them, smoothing some hair out of her face. "It's okay, darling. We'll see you tomorrow." Your heart aches as she sniffles, tears streaming down her chubby cheeks.

"Bye baby." You kiss the top of her head and sigh as Steve hands her back to Bucky. Her cries grow louder and she reaches for the two of you, kicking against Bucky's hold on her.

"C'mon. She'll get worse the longer we stand here." Steve pulls you back to the car and you get in silently, watching with a heavy heart as Sarah cries for you and Steve.

"I know... I know. It's hard being away from her." You turn to Steve and nod, sniffling. "I-I've never really been away from her for more than a few hours. I don't like not knowing if she's gonna be okay. Not that I don't trust James and Natasha. I do, I just..." He places a large warm hand on your thigh and nods. "You'd feel better if you were with her. Then you could control the situation. But now you're helpless." You nod, placing your hand over his.

"It's okay. Soon enough you won't be thinking about her. Hell, you won't even remember your name." He says it like it's a promise, and your mind races at all the things that could mean.

~*~

The surprise is a quaint cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere. The architecture is beautiful and the atmosphere would be peaceful, if you didn’t know that Steve had a sinister plan brewing.

You set your suitcase down on the floor in the master bedroom, eyes darting around the large room in a slight panic.

Big hands are suddenly on your waist, soft lips on your neck trailing gentle kisses down to your shoulder.

Your eyelids flutter closed and you lean against him, his strong body supporting your weight with ease.

“You ready for me, baby? You ready for me to fuck you ‘till you can’t stand?” You nod, mouth dropping open as a soft moan rolls off your tongue.

“Please,” you whisper, muscles twitching as he dips one of his hands into your pants. Skilled fingers find your clit, immediately rubbing the bundle of nerves. Your legs tremble slightly and you whimper.

He pulls away and pushes you onto the bed on your front, helping you remove your clothes quickly.

“Come on baby. You know how I wanna see you.” You push your hips up, arching your back for him and putting your pussy on display for his hungry eyes.

His hands find the globes of your ass, squeezing harshly for a moment before letting go, only to smack down hard on the supple flesh.

You yelp, hips wiggling a bit as he smoothes over the tender spot.

“Look at this... fucking amazing.” He slides two fingers through your folds, gathering your slick.

Your breasts are pushed painfully against the mattress and you groan, trying to ease the ache of your sore nipples.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m gonna give you what you need.” You hear him taking his clothes off and in an instant, the hot weeping tip of his cock is pressed against your entrance.

He teases you for just a moment before growing tired of games and thrusting inside of you.

Your walls clench hard on his length and a guttural moan leaves your lips.

“Fuck, you always take my cock so well. So fucking good for me. I’m gonna fuck another baby into you, watch you swell with my child.” He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up, his other hand coming up to grip your throat.

Your eyes roll back as he pounds into you from behind, his voice whispering dirty things in your ear.

“You’re mine, aren’t you? My dirty slut. So desperate for my cock all the time. You’d be useless without it. You need my dick to function, don’t you?” You nod helplessly, lost in the pleasure he’s bringing you.

The sounds coming from where the two of you are connected are nothing but sinful. The mixture of skin slapping against skin and the lewd squelching of your drenched pussy only adds to the intense pleasure you’re feeling.

“You’re taking me so fucking well, fuck. So greedy for my cock, such a desperate cumslut.” You nod, eyes rolling back as you clench hard around his cock.

“Is my pathetic little slut gonna cum? Yeah?” You nod vigorously, gasping for breath uselessly as he tightens his grip around your throat.

“Do it,” he nearly growls, teeth scraping over your ear. “Cum on my cock.” The low rumble of his chest and the absolutely animalistic way he says it pushes you over the edge and you fall headfirst into a blinding orgasm.

Your entire body seizes up, pussy clenching painfully tight on his cock and he hisses in your ear, teeth biting into your shoulder as he chases his own release.

You tremble in his arms, panting hard when he releases his hold on your throat.

You collapse onto the bed, twitching and whimpering as he thrusts slowly in you, pumping you full of his cum.

“That's it... fuck... your pussy’s fuckin milking my cock. Gonna get you pregnant. Fuck...” He closes his eyes tightly and you bite your bottom lip, trying to enjoy this feeling for as long as possible.

Eventually, he pulls out of you, flips you onto your side, then slides beside you on the bed.

“Lift,” he commands. You do, lifting your leg over his hip and giving him access to your messy pussy. He slides his cock into you and you groan, squirming away as your cunt clenches, the overstimulation being too much.

“Shh. Sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.” You nod, kissing his collarbone then snuggling against his chest.

Steve stays awake, mind running in circles around the room, jumping from thought to thought while you snore softly against his chest.

After an hour of lying awake restlessly, he gets out of bed and gets dressed, calling Bucky while he does so. His friend, surprisingly, picks up on the second ring.

“You ready?” He skips the formalities, knowing Steve’s calling for one reason and one reason only.

“Yeah. She’s asleep. Been asleep for an hour or so now.” He hears shuffling on the other line, probably Bucky grabbing the supplies he needs.

“And you’re sure she’s asleep? This will only work if she’s one hundred percent unconscious. If she’s awake her mind won’t be in the proper state of vulnerability and we won’t get all the way to her subconscious.” Steve walks over to the bed and touches your shoulder gently, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, listening to the consistent beat of your heart.

“She’s asleep. Now, what do I do?”

“You’re gonna say her trigger words, tell her what you want from her and be very specific, and then you’re going to repeat her trigger words. Without one of Stark's labs and his equipment, we won’t be able to be as thorough so she won’t have some memories until we can perform the procedure correctly, but this will do for now. Make her more obedient.”

Steve looks at where you’re lying on the bed as the triggers come to his mind.

“Crystal. Bumblebee. Sunshower. Eleven.”

You slowly open one eye, heart beating faster as you realize what they’re doing. As what you’ve heard clicks in your mind.

“Phoenix, Balance. Forest. Homerun. Landslide.”

Your breath hitches and Steve stops for a moment, concerned that you’re waking up, not knowing that you woke up the moment he left the bed.

“Come on. Her body will naturally respond to the stimulation of her subconscious mind. Finish it,” Bucky says.

“Twenty-three.” Steve simply utters the last word and the room is plunged into silence, your breathing shallow and terrified.

“Tell her what you want.”

“Obedience. You serve me. You don’t ask questions. You follow orders. You listen to me. You live to make me happy. You will raise my children, give me a son, and be my good obedient wife.” His voice is cold and hard, more terrifying than anything you’ve ever heard before. It sends chills racing down your spine.

“Now repeat the triggers.”

Steve repeats the ten words then stands at the foot of the bed in silence, a weight being lifted off of his shoulders at the fact that you’re going to be his obedient wife again.

Little does he know you’re going to be anything but that.

#Steve rogers x reader #dark!steve #Dark Series #dark!fic #Dark Fic #darkfic #Steve rogers x reader Dark!fic #Steve rogers x reader dark fic #Steve rogers x reader dark au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au

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dxf · 5 years ago

Text

dirty talk | oneshot.

pairing: im jaebeom x reader warning: alcohol use, dirty talk (lots of it), oral, unprotected sex words: 1.9k

you look at the time on your phone, realizing it’s getting late. your boyfriend of a year still wasn’t home so you began to worry. knowing jaebeom, he becomes restless when he doesn’t finish something. all you wanted him to do is come back to your shared apartment so you could cuddle again.

you left to get washed up, but then you heard your phone ringing. looking at the caller id, it was the one and only jaebeom.

“hey baby, did you miss me?” jaebeom says in a low and calming voice.

his voice is like music to your ears, quite figurative and literally. “yes jaebeom, i’m missing you a ton right now. do you have any idea when you will be home?” you ask.

he clears his throat before speaking, “i need your help with something. do you maybe think you could come over to my studio? i’m kinda stuck right now.”

“i’ll be over in 10.”

upon arriving to jaebeom’s studio, you could hear the relaxing r&b music he put on for inspiration. you see him in front of his computer, desperately trying to find more inspiration. you walk up behind him, lightly tapping on his shoulder before he turns around.

“hello baby, i’ve missed you so much,’ he whispers while he wraps his arms around your waist.

you giggle, “i’ve missed you too beom. how is work coming along?”

“honestly, not too well. i’ve scraped so many songs tonight and i need something to showcase for next week,” he frowns. you run your fingers through his hair as he rests his head on your stomach.

jaebeom is a creative writer, his fans and you can all agree. it’s troubling to see him have writer’s block, but at the same time, you don’t know to exactly help him. “why don’t you call it a day babe? let’s go home and get some rest,” you suggest.

he shakes his head, not liking that idea. “baby please, i just need some inspiration.”

“well how exactly can i help jae?”

he stands up from his chair and goes to the mini fridge in his room. two familiar green bottles come out from the fridge. jaebeom makes his way towards you, handing you a bottle of soju.

“drinking? we still both have to drive home jae,” you say with a little worry.

all he does is shake his head and gives a tiny laugh, “don’t worry. we’re only having one bottle. gets the creative juices flowing.”

maybe he has a point, you thought to yourself. the both of you started brainstorming ideas, but nothing pleased jaebeom. he’s tried everything. looking through photos, listening to his favorite artist, but not one thing stuck in his mind.

just then, you had a brilliant idea. since he was sitting in front of his desktop, you sat on his lap before he could rebut. you open his soundcloud and start playing some of his music. jae’s face only had a look of confusion.

“why’d you put on my songs?” he asks.

“well i thought you could be potentially inspired by yourself. your soundcloud has pretty great songs, so maybe they could help you out?” to be honest, you had no idea where he was going with this.

eventually deeper came on. deeper was one of his prized masterpieces. he began writing down ideas feverishly. you were beyond confused, but you were glad you could help out.

“okay baby, you’re going to have to help me out with this one, alright?” you nod in agreeance and he takes charge. it’s not long before he begins recording. you glance at the notepad he was writing in and notice how horny he became while writing this. there’s so much dirty language in here, you’re not even sure if this could be released.

time was ticking and all you wanted to do is go back home in your comfortable bed. the clock reads 11:49pm, almost midnight, but jaebeom is all energetic. you were starting to wonder what could you possibly be doing to help him.

“are you ready to help me?” he asks. you nod your head and walk over to him. “you don’t mind me recording you, right?”

am i going to sing? i have never sung professionally in my life and he wants me to sing? your innocent mind thought. but jaebeom had bigger and much dirtier plans. he starts recording. the look on your face was full of confusion and you wanted to question him. with jaebeom being your boyfriend for so long, he reads your expression.

“relax baby, you’re not going to sing. well, not in that way at least,” he smirks. before you could say anything more, his lips meet yours. moving passionately and not rushing into things.

you couldn’t help but melt in his hands. jaebeom couldn’t be gone for that long, but you miss the way he holds you. his lips are unbelievably soft, making you want more of him. his tongue slips into your mouth with ease, dancing around yours.

the both of you make your way to his couch, becoming more heated as time passes. slowly, clothes start coming off and small moans come out of your mouth. his lips latch onto your sensitive skin and makes his rounds to your sweet spots. he gropes your breast gently, messaging them as he continues to make marks.

“don’t be afraid to make some noise baby. remember i’m recording? i want to hear all of you.” you bite your lip at the sound of that. when reading his songbook, you thought that it was finished with just all the dirty lyrics.

you start moving your hips in order to create some friction between you and him. jaebeom bites down at your collarbone from your sudden action, leaving you to yelp. you could feel him smirking against your skin. the microphone across the room is picking up all your moans.

jaebeom lifts you off his lap and back on the couch. you can tell he’s becoming impatient from the way he’s taking off your pants. there’s an evident wet spot on your panties. his fingers start teasing you through the thin cloth. whimpers leave your lips, wanting more of him.

“you’re so wet for me y/n. such a dirty girl for me,” he whispers. you start moving against his fingers. jaebeom licks his lips, “do you want me to eat you out?’

you nod in agreeance, but he doesn’t like that. “use your words baby, do you want my tongue lapping your sweet juices?”you couldn’t believe the things coming out of his mouth. a smirk is plastered on his face.

“yes jaebeom, please eat me out,” you whine. jaebeom loves it when he makes you beg.

he goes down on you hungerly, wasting no more time. if the microphone didn’t pick up your moans, they definitely were picked up by the microphone now. the way he moves his tongue makes it feel like you’re in heaven. he enters a finger inside you while he harshly sucks on your clit. you couldn’t make a coherent sentence if you tried.

another finger enters you and his speed becomes even faster. he lifts his head up to see your face. jaebeom loves seeing your face contort because of his actions.

“you love my fingers so much. do you want to cum on my face baby? i know you do,” he lightly chuckles.

you couldn’t speak. the amount of pleasure he’s giving you is overwhelming. but jaebeom isn’t satisfied with that. he begins to slow down his rhythm.

“did you hear me y/n? your pussy is becoming tighter by the second. it would be ashame if you didn’t get to come.” an evil grin is on his face. he knows that would have to answer now.

“yes! please jaebeom, i want to cum on your face!” you squeal. his pace returns to what it was originally. he leaves sloppy kisses on your clit in hopes to spur you on. your fingers run through his hands, tugging at the roots of his head.

“jaebeom i’m…”

“cum on my face baby.”

his voice was all that you needed to hear. you clamp down on his fingers, breathing heavily. he withdraws his fingers from inside you and instead replaces them with his mouth. his tongue darts in and out of you before he gives a few more licks.

“you taste so good y/n. i could stay here all day, just eating you out. i’m sure you would like that.”

“yes jae.”

“such a good girl for me.”

he starts taking off his own pants and underwear. the tip red and leaking for need. all you wanted to do is put your mouth on him, but he refused.

“i need you so badly baby,” he says in a low tone. he lifts your hips to be aligned with his, moving his tip to tease your entrance.

“jaebeom! please, stop teasing.”

“how much do you want my cock baby? how badly do you want my cock inside you?” his mouth is dirty.

“so badly jae, i need you.”

that was all he needed to hear. once he was inside of you, there was no stopping him. he loves seeing his cock disappearing inside of you. his movements are slow, thrusting with full force, then slowly coming back out barely having the tip inside you. it’s mesmerizing to him.

“have i ever told you how much i love the sight of you being underneath me? you’re so needy for me,” his hands run across your skin. hips to waist to breast. there’s no doubt that you love being underneath him as well. you love the way he manages to find your most pleasurable spot everytime.

jaebeom manages to spread your legs even further. your pink folds tempt him even further. he spits on your clit and starts rubbing vigorously. you scream his name, not caring if anyone could hear. low grunts and moans are coming from him.

seeing your reaction only further spurs him on. “fuck y/n, you love this so much, don’t you?”

“yes jae, your cock feels so good,” you whisper yell. you could tell that your words turn him on as much as his words turn you on. his dick twitches, signifying he’s close.

he pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow, maintaining a fast speed. jaebeom once again finds your sweet spot, making you yelp in pleasure and pain. you grab onto his wrists, trying to keep yourself from squirming so much.

“jaebeom, i’m so close! if you keep this up, i’m going to-”

he interrupts, “such a naughty girl. cumming two times in the span of an hour? well go on. i want your tight pussy clamping on my cock.”

a few more thrusts and he sent you over edge. a loud grunt escaped his mouth from your orgasm, but he didn’t slow down. he still needed to reach his high. he buries himself in your neck, giving you a few sloppy kisses before releasing inside of you. panting could be heard from the both of you.

jaebeom caught his breath and pulled out of you. “i’ve made a huge mess this time. sorry baby.”

you just lay there, still trying to catch your breath. jae walks over to his computer and turns off the recording.

“are you actually going to use that in your song?” you ask.

jaebeom laughs loudly, “well of course baby! i’ll let the whole world know what bomb sex i’m having.”

you just roll your eyes and shake your head at him.

“next time, we should make a sex tape.”

#7ornevernet #got7smut #got7oneshot #got7 imagines #got7 jaebeom #jaebeom #jaebum #got7 jaebum #ahgase #jaebeom x reader #jaebum x reader #lim jaebeom #im jaebeom #lim jaebum #im jaebum

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virsamin · 6 years ago

Text

Sassy Much?

Victor x Reader

Genre: NSFW/SMUT

Word Count: 1,771

Summary: A little idiot gets sassy and pisses off our lovely Victor

A/N: To the anon that requested this, I hope you like it!! (I got a bit carried away sksksksk)

Additional: Spanking, Fingering, Public /Office Sex, Rough Sex

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It started with the quip she made in Souvenir about Victor's hypocrisy, how he'd shamelessly lie about the obvious smile he'd brought out once she'd complimented his kitchenware. His mood was cheerful then, freshly made pudding sat on the counter next to a long-stemmed wine glass and a tall glass of juice for his little fool. His heart soared at the thought that he had finally become a priority to her, she desperately wanted him featured on her show, so he let the remark pass. The corners of his lips curled upwards as she frantically tried to parrot what was in the proposal, stumbling through each concept.

..................................................................................................

Though you were busy explaining the project to him, his actions didn't go unnoticed. With building confidence, the thought to try again resurfaced in your mind. It was only appropriate that you try to use a fairly small amount of sass to equate for the amount of teasing voiced by him.

So it began, the small jests in private, the jeers out of the office. Nothing too witty, nor too sassy to anger him but just enough to provoke.

It was the mockery when discussing her company's progress report that pushed him over. The ambiance was already tense when she walked into his office half an hour ago and even more so now as he stared at her silently, his brows furrowed together and his lips pursed. He had been skimming over the documents in the manila colored folder, one hand balled into a fist, holding up his sharp jaw as the other grasped the papers stiffly.

Tick...tick...tick...

The clock reverberates around the room simultaneous with the tapping of her foot, each second followed by a soundless Victor. His usually brightly lit office was now dim, the windows behind him covered with a thin screening, casting faint rays of light where it has managed to slip through.

The steady rise and fall of his chest proved that time wasn't frozen and that Victor was very much alive... and upset. His silver eyes glimmer, boring into her deep gold ones. With a slight head tilt and eyebrow raised, he sits there taunting her, urging her to repeat yourself.

***

Your posture changes. Your spine straightening minutely, a sense of defiance coursing through your veins, challenging him back. A breath escapes him as he sighed almost in defeat beckoning you towards him. The squeaking of the wheels of his chair broke you out of a trance as he rolled back from his desk. The corners of his crisp suit wrinkle as he folds his arms, his Rolex watch glinting in a shimmering ray of light.

"Come here."

His voice rings with authority, the sounds loud and clear in the otherwise still room. He watches the girl rise from her seat, her footsteps rivaling his tone as you move to the space between him and the edge of his white desk. Leaning back on the blunt side of his desk, you mimic him, crossing both your arms and legs in pursuit of showing superiority. Your gazes are locked, unyielding, as he leans forward to grasp your chin cautiously. Tilting it slightly to the side, a smirk resides on his lips as he sits there examining you like a fine specimen.

Warm, strong hands wrap themselves around your delicate body, pulling you against their hard frame. Your eyes widen in shock as your being goes rigid at his unspoken assault. Arrogance flashed within him as our eyes met and his hands gripped that waist of yours to bend over his lean thighs. His hands run underneath the rim of the satin skirt as he slides them off along with your panties. His nails scrape against the sensitive skin of your thighs and the cold air bites at your flesh.

“What are you doing?” The words come out wavered as small shivers encase you. He says nothing as his eyes float over her smooth skin, erupting warm tingles over his lover's body. A sharp pain comes from your now bare ass, faster than you've realized Victor had brought down his hand against your supple flesh, he slaps it again, short-circuiting your thought process. He smirks seeing you repeatedly tensing and relaxing and decides to unbutton your pretty blue blouse, letting it fall away from your bare body.

There you were, bent over his lap, facing his growing erection. His eyes glimmer down over the trembling woman in front of him.

"Victor wait! What if someone comes in?" He glares down at her in angst, only to skim his fingers across the girl's back and dip into her core.

"You had better stay quiet then, you'd have a lot of explaining to do then" There's a hint of annoyance in his voice.

His knuckles caress the indent of her back, trailing downwards and gradually pressing harder. She's visibly quivering, whether it be from the fear or exhilaration of his hot touch, you couldn’t tell.

Weak but growing in strength, she attempts to break free from his hold, only to be met with an iron grip and a dark stare from him. He forces her side to his view, finding a slowly rising blush rising along her nakedness. Victor traces his finger around the redness of your ass, but instead of massaging it, he brings another sharp sting and the sound of his hand slapping your skin echos across the room. The pain sends surges of heat to wetness in your core and your thighs press themselves together in an attempt to stop shaking.

“Victor...” The words are barely audible as the girl struggles in his hold. He wouldn't let her go tonight.

“Sorry, what was that?” He smirks, the enjoyment in his voice prominent.

“Victor, please! It stings...” Tears brim at your eyes as he relentlessly brings his hand down onto your reddening cheek. Ten, Eleven, Twelve, he had no intention of stopping until the color of the skin on her ass matched the blush on her face.

The corners of his mouth turn upward, satisfied, and he finally lets go of your blazing skin. Your hands' reflexively travel to the tender parts of your buttocks as you massage it slowly. His leg presses against those trembling legs and they separate on his command, showing a dripping, glistening pussy in its wake.

“Victor...Touch me...” The words come with a shameless whimper, and regret flashed across your features as soon as the words mistakenly fell from your lips.

He stares, his eyes scanning those plump soft breasts down to the spreading heat between your thighs. He steps closer to her still body, his breath brushing her warm skin as his hands find themselves to rest on those lovely hips.

“You know I don’t like being told what to do.” His voice is sharp and low, hostile even, making a shiver rack your body. His hands are quick in gripping your sides as he picks you and roughly pushes you into the empty space of his office wall caging the fragile being as a predator would to its prey. He excels in the sense of agility, leaning down closer, skimming his lips ever so softly on your exposed neck. He continues his delicate assault, lips on my collar bone, on my ear, on my neck.

With gusto, Victor crushes his soft lips to your own. Moans slip between the two of you and before you could comprehend what he was doing, the hands that were tugging at hair were secured tightly around his neck along with the legs that clasped around his waist.

His bulge had made itself known against the inside of your thigh as he bit your bottom lip, sticking that tongue of his into your mouth. Pressing himself closer, his racing heartbeat matches yours, his hand finds its way to those full breasts, palming and squeezing ever so delightfully, releasing heavy moans. His other hand slips a finger between your slick wet folds that only seemed to respond to his explosive touch.

“So divine. So ready, Y/N.” He smiles, indulging in the moment before pushing another slender finger into you as your back arcs against him.

He pumps his fingers faster and faster, each thrust almost leading to your undoing. He pulls his soaked fingers out only to strip himself of his clothes and have his prominent member making its appearance against your drenched thigh.

Dominating those sweet lips again, he takes matters into his own hands he carries your breathless body back to his desk. Victor basks in your splayed nakedness, deciding where to begin.

In your exhausted state, you lay flat on his desk, your eyes facing the ceiling as your body freezes at the sound of footsteps outside. The sound is loud and the only other sound was the labored breathing you both shared. The footsteps fade and the body in front of Victor slacks.

The smirk that pressed itself against your sweet bundle of nerves was conspicuous as he lapped and sucked at the little bud until you convulsed under him, arching in delight.

“Delicious as always. “He murmurs as he removes himself from the soaked folds, kissing your lips with your essence on his tongue. His eyes interlocked with yours and all he could read was the desire to have his thick cock pulsing inside you. His eyes darken and suddenly the rest of his garments are strewn across the floor. Victor drags your body down until your heated core is against his throbbing length.

He leans across to press his chest against the one in front of him as he rams into her core, stretching it immensely. Thrust after thrust he drives with no mercy but a hint of longing in his grip on her body.

His cock slides in and out of you at a constant rapid rhythm that you match eagerly. His hands graze your breast and grip your hips, squeezing and holding as he thrusts deeper, his name being cried out louder and faster every time. We both moan deliriously into the room, our breaths labored as we climb to our high.

The folds around his throbbing cock clench him tighter as he slams into you. He groans, whispering that name of yours like it was the only thing keeping him alive. His pace picks up, thrusting so vigorously that your nails rake against his back as you scream and moan his name over and over in ecstasy. His throaty moans ricochet off the walls as his cock pulses inside of you. Together we pant, a mess of limbs bent over his desk, breathy and bewildered.

knock knock

"S-sir...?"

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vannahfanfics · 5 years ago

Text

Live Like You Were Dying

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Oboro Shirakumo, Shota Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, Nemuri Kayama

Oboro scrunched up his face happily as he sipped at his juice box, enjoying the sweet taste of apple juice bursting on his tongue. It was the perfect thing to wash down the rice and beef he’d just inhaled for lunch. He popped his lips off the straw with a satiated hum, wobbling his head in tandem with clicking his heels. His shoes scraped against the concrete roof— a sound grating enough to awaken the napping boy beside him.

“You’re awfully chipper ,” Shota grunted from within the confines of his yellow sleeping bag. Before Oboro could answer, Hizashi perked up from Shota’s other side, emerald eyes gleaming behind his shades.

“Why not be? It’s a beaaaaaaautiful day!” As Hizashi stretched out the word with a delighted trill, Shota scowled dourly and burrowed further into his sleeping bag. The plastic-like fabric crinkled with each of his irritated movements. Hizashi only laughed good-naturedly as the boy zipped up the sleeping bag from the inside, clearly displaying his opinion on the “beaaaaaaautiful day.”

Unlike his grumpy compatriot, Oboro was very inclined to agree that the weather was dandy indeed. He basked in the warm sun streaming down from the cloudless sky above, rolling his shoulders as it heated the fabric of his school uniform. Birdsong drifted up from the trees and bushes flanking the school building, and occasionally the breeze rustled the leaves, filling the air with a pleasant symphony. Oboro could never understand how Shota could snooze away such a balmy afternoon, but sure enough, his snores joined the melody wafting over the rooftop.

The snores turned into a startled “snooork?!” as the door to the roof violently flung open. The metallic clang resounded through the air, prompting Shota to open the sleeping bag up part of the way to glare out. Nemuri came flouncing over, skirt swishing around her supple thighs with every sashay of her hips. A confident smirk decorated his lipstick-coated lips as she struck a saucy pose before them.

“Hey, boys <3”

Shota grunted disinterestedly and tunneled back into the depths of his sleeping bag. Nemuri’s millionaire smile vanished into a surly pout. She turned to Oboro expectantly, who did not disappoint.

“Hey, Nemuri. What’s up?”

“I am glad you asked!” Nemuri beamed, the white flash of her teeth returning with vigor. She flipped her midnight-blue hair over her shoulder as her eyes grew lidded with paramountcy. “I want to formally invite you all to attend a meteor shower viewing this evening.”

“Pass,” came the dispassionate groan from the sleeping bag. Scowling, Hizashi whapped the shiny yellow surface. Shota popped his head out with an indignant glower, to which the blond just raised his eyebrows admonishingly. Shota’s eyes slowly drifted to Nemuri, who had put on her best pleading expression. She even batted her eyes and pressed the tip of her index finger to her slightly parted lip in a look of pure demure.

“Please, Sho~?”

“Come on, Shota!” Oboro pressed. He tucked his legs criss-cross and gripped his shins, beaming brightly at his friend. “It’ll be fun. What else do you have to do— sleep?”

Shota gave him a look saying that was exactly what he had in mind for the evening. However, he silently deliberated Nemuri’s invitation and finally released a long sigh of relent.

“Fine.”

“Yay!” Nemuri squealed, throwing her hands into the air excitedly. Hizashi and Nemuri soon became involved in an avid conversation about meteor showers’ romantic aspects, with Shota grumbling within his sleeping bag over his soured nap. Oboro resumed sipping at his apple juice, blue eyes beholding the azure sky and envisioning it instead as an inky black canvas studded with glittering stars.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oboro released a small “hup!” as he hopped down from his cloud. Nemuri had decided that the school roof was the optimal place to view the meteor shower, so he had used his Quirk to float them over the chain-link fence that ringed the area. As his feet met the solid ground, he turned to offer a hand to Nemuri, who flashed him a sultry smile.

“Oh, what a gentleman,” she cooed lasciviously. Much used to Nemuri’s flirtations, he only winked at her and helped her slip down from the fluffy cloud. Shota and Hizashi dropped down on either side of her, blinking to adjust to the gloom shrouding them. The light from the nearby lampposts only dimly illuminated the rooftop, casting them in grey shadow.

Nemuri skipped over to their favorite roosting spot, untying her jacket from around her waist to drape it over the concrete before primly sitting down. Shota shambled over to slide down the wall, legs stuck out and his hands buried into his hoodie pockets. Hizashi opted to stand, leaning against the wall with an earbud stuck in his ear; Oboro could hear the muted tones of his rock music emanating from the one dangling down by his collarbone. Oboro squatted down near the chain-link fence, head craned to behold the indigo-black sky gleaming brilliantly above the campus.

The stars twinkled like diamonds, splashed across the sky like a thick streak of white paint. A few wisps of gray clouds drifted lazily like canoes across a mirror-smooth lake. In a stroke of luck, the meteor shower fell on the night of the new moon. Thus, the stars were relegated to a solo performance— and they didn’t fall short, bathing the world in a soft white glow. However, they didn’t have to perform alone for very long.

“There it is!” Oboro gasped as a single streak of light slashed across the sky. It looked like someone scored a pencil across the heavens, etching it into white radiance. After the first once fizzled into nothingness, the sky illuminated with several more, and within seconds, dozens of meteors were raining to earth. The small meteors gave their last breath as they burned away in the atmosphere, crying their death in a burst of luminescence.

Oboro found it both captivating and haunting. As he watched the meteors shoot across the sky, he marveled at how easily something could just blip out of existence. A flash of light, one final chance to make your imprint on the earth, and then— nothing. You fade into oblivion, a passing memory slowly dwindling with time.

How sobering.

He peered over his shoulder to his three friends. Nemuri’s sky blue eyes reflected the showering lights, making them twinkle like galaxies of their own; her face was drawn in reverence that he’d never seen before as she beheld the natural phenomena. Shota suppressed his awe better, but Oboro could see his appreciation by the way his jaw set and the gleam in his eyes. Hizashi was even stunned into silence, a thoughtful look on his face and one hand still held up from where he had taken out his other earbud.

Oboro could tell just by the atmosphere that an intense rumination had pervaded their usually animated group. Maybe they were all thinking the same thing, or perhaps they were all thinking different things. Oboro wasn’t a mind-reader. Nor did it matter— some things were better left unspoken.

He didn’t want to fade into nothingness like those meteors. Sure, he hoped he’d live a long, fulfilling life— but sometimes things don’t work out how you think it will. If the worst became him, he didn’t want to fade into obscurity, relegating to the dark parts of his friends’ minds that they only looked upon in melancholy.

Luckily, oddly-beget optimism was Oboro’s specialty.

“Let’s make a wish!” he grinned suddenly. His friends jerked, startled out of their quiet contemplation by his loud cry. Nemuri’s eyes fluttered as she regarded him curiously, and then she smiled broadly.

“Oh, what a nice idea! Me first, me first!” she cried, holding out her hand as if flagging down a teacher. She cleared her throat professionally before declaring purposefully, “I want to dominate the hero world with my ultimate sexy style! I will bring both men and women on their knees before me! Mwahahaha!”

Shota looked like he wanted to die. Hizashi appeared elated, and Oboro gave Nemuri a smile somewhere between supportive and concerned.

“That’s… a nice way to put it, Nemuri,” the blue-haired boy offered placatingly. Nemuri seemed quite pleased with herself, tucking her chin into the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. “What about you, ‘Zashi?”

“I wanna bring my tunes to the whole world, baby! Spread the love through the power of music, yeeaaaaaah!” he crowed, striking a flashy pose. He yelped when Shota punched him in the calf, making his leg buckle a bit. “Oww! Whydja do that, huh?”

“You’re too loud. You’ll get us caught; we’re not supposed to be up here,” Shota sniffed matter-of-factly. Hizashi stuck out his tongue mockingly before peevishly crossing his arms. When Nemuri prompted him, his eyes widened slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “A good nap would be nice.”

“Be serious, Shota!” Hizashi whined. The grouchy boy huffed and tipped his head to the side to give his wish some actual thought.

“I guess becoming an underground hero would be nice,” he shrugged after a moment.

“Now that’s more like it!” Hizashi praised with a pump of his fist. Oboro smirked at the teeny little smile that appeared on Shota’s lips. “All right, Oboro? What do you wish for?”

Oboro smiled, looking back up at the splendorous display illuminating the heavens above.

“Me? Well… I just wish that we all remember times like this forever.”

A silence descended between them. When Oboro looked back over his shoulder, they were all gawking at him.

“Whoa, dude. That’s heavy,” Hizashi whistled. Oboro laughed and threaded his fingers through his cotton candy-blue hair, feeling a little self-conscious at how surprised they were. He blushed a little and gave them a sheepish smile.

“What? A guy can’t get a little sentimental every now and then?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood he’d inadvertently heavied. He smiled lopsidedly, scratching his cheek. “I was just thinking…. You never know which day is your last, right? We gotta make the most out of life, ya know?”

“Hmm… I see what you mean,” Nemuri hummed appraisingly. Oboro relaxed, glad the heat was off him a little. He glanced up at the sky; the meteor shower was dwindling, fewer streaks lighting the sky with each passing second. “Yeah,” Nemuri said brightly after a second. “A wish to live every day to its fullest… I love it!”

“Me too, me too!” Hizashi agreed energetically and punched the air a few times.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Shota shrugged with a wry smirk. Oboro preened a little, his smile widening as he watched the last of the falling meteors proclaim their final moments to all those watching.

Oboro made a promise that night to live like those meteors— screaming his presence to the world for as long as he was there, imprinting his being on all those who would listen, and bring joy and smiles to as many people as he could. If he lived like that, enjoying each and every day, then maybe even if the worst befell him, he would leave some kind of mark in people’s memories.

Live like you were dying, and then, could you really have any regrets?

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#shirakumo oboro #oboro shirakumo #loud cloud #shota aizawa #aizawa shota #eraserhead #nemuri kayama #kayama nemuri #midnight #hizashi yamada #yamada hizashi #present mic #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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papa-rhys · 7 years ago

Note

okay great! I was wondering if you could write one where wheaty’s really comforting and sweet to a fem reader who comes back to the Wolf’s Den after another few days in the veteran’s center and she’s skittish etc.? thank you, I hope this makes sense 💞

I love my precious boy <3

You stand in the entrance to the control room of the Wolf’s Den, blood dripping from the fingertip of your ring finger as a single stream of it trickles down your forearm from a wound on your elbow. You’re shaking and you’re filthy; your hair greasy and clogged with mud and your face scraped and bruised.

“My God,” Eli gasps, making his way around the table towards you.

You remain stood in the exact same spot. “I’m okay,” you croak; though you’re still trembling.

“Y/N?” Wheaty says, looking up from the explosive device that he works on. “What the fuck happened?” he asks, dropping his screwdriver and letting it roll off the table as he hurries towards you.

“I’m okay,” you repeat as he puts a hand on your shoulder and looks you over for more injuries. “I just need… I, uh, need a shower, I think.” You stare straight ahead at Eli’s televisions, but you don’t take in anything that’s being displayed on them.

“You’re in shock,” Eli tells you.

“Here,” Wheaty says, placing an arm around your shoulders and coaxing you to walk with him. “I’ll get her cleaned up,” he tells Eli. Eli nods and you walk with Wheaty to the bathroom of The Wolf’s Den.

“I’m fine, really, I am.” Despite your best efforts, Wheaty refuses to leave you in the bathroom alone; instead turning on the tap over the sink and waiting for the water to run hot. You stand in the centre of the room and watch as he reaches for a clean washcloth and rinses it under the running water. “I’m sorry I got caught again,” you tell him.

“What? You don’t gotta be sorry about that,” he assures you, bringing the washcloth over and dabbing it carefully against your forehead, lifting the dried dirt from your skin.

“I need to be more careful,” you sigh. “Every time I get caught, I put you guys in danger.”

“Don’t worry about us,” he chuckles. “We’ve been fightin’ this fight for a loooong time. We’re in no more danger now than we were 5 years ago.”

“But –“

“But nothin’.”

You think of protesting again, but the words don’t make it past the tip of your tongue and you swallow them down instead; letting out a short huff and remaining quiet as he wipes away and the crusty mud on your face.

He turns back to the sink, rinsing the grubby brown cloth until it turns to white again before returning his position next to you. “This might sting a lil’ bit,” he warns you, holding the cloth an inch or two away from a graze on your left cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from the damp cloth as it hovers close to your skin, and you give Wheaty a small nod. He ever-so-gently puts the cloth to your skin and you frown at him angrily as your cheek burns. “Don’t blame me,” he chuckles. “I told you it’d hurt.”

Your frown softens and the pain in your cheek gets duller with each dab of the cloth. You release the tension in your shoulders and let them sink down as far as they’ll go; breathing deeply into your stomach as you relax. “You’d make a good doctor,” you think aloud.

“You think so?” Wheaty smiles, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turning your head to the side so he can tend to the dry blood that once trickled from your ear.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Or any profession that involves caring for someone – Ow –“

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“ – I think you’d be real good at it.”

“Well I don’t think I’d be academically fit for medical school, but I appreciate the compliment,” he says with a grin.

You let out a chuckle that makes your chest ache. The chuckle turns into a wheeze and the wheeze turns into a hoarse cough that sounds like that of someone who’s been smoking 40 a day for the last 20 years. Your lungs burn as you cough and splutter.

“That doesn’t sound too good,” Wheaty says, rubbing your back as you double over in a coughing fit. “We should check that out. You might have –“

He’s interrupted by a loud bang – the sound of metal against metal – and you jump out of your skin, whipping your head around in search of the noise. “What was that?” you rasp, your eyes widened in panic.

“It’s okay,” Wheaty assures you, moving his hand to your shoulder. “It was probably just Eli droppin’ somethin’. You know how much of a klutz he is sometimes.”

“Yeah…” you mutter, making the effort to calm yourself down. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Wheaty watches you for a moment as you continue to stare at the bathroom door, unable to simmer your nerves. “You want me to go and check?” he asks. You nod your head vigorously. “Alright,” he says, taking a few paces backwards towards the door. He pulls the door open and cranes his neck out into the hallway. “What was that?” he calls out into the rest of the bunker.

“Sorry… that was me,” Eli’s voice calls back.

You breathe a sigh of relief as Wheaty closes the door again and makes his way back towards you. “See?” he smiles, raising his hands in the air - the damp cloth still held in one of them. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, shaking your head. “I’m just so on edge.”

Wheaty takes hold of your hand and begins wiping your fingers with the cloth. “It’s fine. I’d say you have every right to be a little jumpy.”

“I just feel like I’m constantly being watched. Like every little thing that happens is part of some huge plot against me. Everything sets me off - someone dropping somethin’, a car alarm going off in the distance. My brain always jumps to the conclusion that I’m about to get grabbed by one of Jacob’s hunters. It’s so exhausting.”

Wheatt lets your hand drop to your side and picks up the other one to begin cleaning it of the blood and grime that’s embedded in the cracks of the skin. “You know you’re safe in here, right?”

“Am I?” you ask, doubtfully.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, with a smile. He looks you in the eyes as he speaks and it’s clear to you that there isn’t a single ounce of doubt in his mind as he says the words. “There’s absolutely no way Jacob could ever hurt anyone inside this bunker.”

#wheaty #far cry 5 #my writing #writing: wheaty

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bba-sae · 7 years ago

Text

And In The End

PAIRING: Jaehyun/Reader

GENRE: Greek!AU + angst +fluff

WORD COUNT: 6.2K

SUMMARY: "My heart shall wither away with you.”

Authors note: S/O to everyone I left waiting for this series to FUCKINGGGGG STAAARRRTTTTT. I’m sorry. I suck, no excuse. But ooowweeeee look at that. I’m not sure when the others will be done but I do have other NCT/Seventeen Aus in the works. I’ll probably release a new AU in a few days, depending on how inspired I feel. Anyways, enjoy this???!!! Or don’t, I won’t force you, just don’t hate me pls lol

“You are not supposed to be here.” You say in a whisper, your voice almost being caught in your throat when you lay eyes on the intruder. You hold a candle to his face, the light seeming to dim against his bright smile.

A boy sits nonchalantly on a table, his beauty threatening the most bewitching scenes that seem to fade in his presence. He shines brightly in the dullness that fills your life and a single breath is held in your throat. He juggles three figs between his hands, a smile emphasizing the plump bow of his lip. Jaehyun.

You see it in the way he sits, his limbs arranging themselves with such grace, they could not have been that of anyone else. His black hair falls cleanly upon his head though he runs his fingers through it rather sloppily. Despite his sheer handsomeness, he seems unaware of this dizzying yet intriguing effect he has on you.

The boy drops two figs onto the table, taking the one in his left to the dagger that he pulls with his right. His hand expertly slices the fruit in one flick, and he takes the fruit to his mouth with one bite. You watch the juice drip off the corners of his mouth down his chin, his hand raises to wipe the side of his face. His eyes catch yours when he does, forcing you to shoot your gaze to the floor immediately. A loud chuckle emits from the pit of his stomach, the sound erupting a strange feeling of contentment through you.

“You remember me.” He says with a smile, flicking his tongue to capture the rest of his food. You roll your eyes and pull your garments closer to you. The cold air of night seemed to scrape against the surface of your skin but dissipated with every step you took closer to the peculiar boy.

Though he claims to have shared the same age as yourself, he seems to exude a sort of unearthly wonder. You questioned him profusely when he confided to you that he was eleven the last time he visited.

“Of course I remember you, thief.” You set the candle on the table and take a seat beside him. Your legs cross in front of you, hands resting neatly in your lap. Jaehyun turns to you, his knees press against yours and he leans in with a frown. The boy never had a sense of personal space.

He seems betrayed when he speaks, his disappointment seeping through his words, “A thief? But you said I could visit. You even promised to leave me those figs.”

You laugh at this, a breathy laugh that makes Jaehyun pause for a moment. He’s heard a thousand laughs before, but none seem to ring through his body quite like that. He takes a second to refocus on your voice when you start, “I don’t really mean you are a thief. I was playing with you Jaehyun. Don’t you tease your friends?”

He chokes on his breath, a stutter forming instead of words. His eyes widen and his hands rush to wrap around yours. You furrow your eyebrows as you attempt to retract your hands, but they are locked tight in his grasp. “We’re friends?”

“I don’t see why not.” You shrug as if the statement means nothing. But to Jaehyun, it is everything he has waited for. He smiles widely with glee, his eyes squinting into crescents. You shake your head at his childish excitement and wiggle yourself out of the little space Jaehyun leaves you. You stand again, grabbing the candle in your small hand.

“But you barely know me? How do you decide these kinds of things?”

“That’s not true. I know a lot of things about you.” You begin walking around the table, hand grabbing the fabric of your gown. Your eyes focus on your feet that pad lightly against the ground. Jaehyun’s body spins and twists to follow your figure, unable to speak as he watches your peculiar actions, “I know you like figs, you told me that the last time I saw you. I know your parents are probably not very kind to you, because if they were you wouldn’t have to sneak in here to feast. Perhaps you are the son of a servant? But that wouldn’t make sense because you are so very,” You pause, trying to put a word to your thoughts. The boy rests his elbow on the table as he watches you take a seat again on the table's surface.

He looks up at you, his eyes appearing bigger as he raises his eyebrows, “So very?”

“Foreign?” You tap your chin once, twice, before shaking your head, “Unlike anyone I’ve met?,” Your eyes close for a moment before it hits you and you snap your fingers in delight, “Unearthly.”

Jaehyun scoffs, only realizing how exaggerated it sounds when it echoes through the room. He shakes his head vigorously before standing up and swatting his hand left and right. You laugh at his strange gestures.

Your fit of giggles stops Jaehyun in his tracks and his hands fall to his sides. His stillness contrasts with your jovial movements as you hold your stomach in laughter. “I was only teasing again. Jaehyun, you have many things to learn.”

He sighs in relief, no longer surprised by your interest in him. The two of you spend the rest of the night talking, sharing stories of your days. He convinces you to stay until the first light of day and you hesitantly agree.

When Jaehyun speaks of his own family, after hearing the extensive chronicles of your own, he doesn’t have much to say. His father never talks to him much, only forcing him to do his bidding when he’s occupied with other women. He relays to you that he has a sister and a mother, but that was all he has to share.

But before you can pry more, a single ray of sunlight illuminates a section of your face through the crack of a wall. You squint in its brightness, blinded by the intense amount light that floods the room suddenly. A burst of light obstructs your vision entirely and when you gain a sense of sight once more, Jaehyun is gone. You look around, only then feeling the weight of sleep threaten your composure. It is only a few short minutes until you give up, bidding him a goodbye under your breath.

When Jaehyun hears you whisper his name, the light that illuminates the room glows with an unearthly brilliance but you don’t stay long enough to see.

Jaehyun and you become close within the next times he visits. You find comfort in his presence when you become lonely and you begin anxiously awaiting his visits. But after the six months, you no longer find him dining in your kitchen in the late hours. He is gone without another word, and his memory becomes that of an old childhood friend.

The next time you see Jaehyun, you feel his warm hands first. Your body lies beneath the olive tree that adorns the center of your family’s garden. You are three years older now, the gentle curves of your body hugged by the soft cloth of your dress. The torrid air of summer hugs your frame, the sweat collecting between your skin as you lay your forearm upon your forehead. Your eyes flutter closed, finding peace within the serene sound of leaves rustling in the tender winds.

As you feel your consciousness fading into a wisp of slumber, you are pulled awake when you feel a hand graze the side of your face. Your eyes shoot open and your hand is quick to grab the culprit, preventing him from moving closer. Your vision clears, and a pair of familiar eyes stare down at you. You blink once, twice, three times to focus on his features, hand still holding his. He lets out a faint laugh, sounding more like a sigh than anything else.

“You’re rather strong, for a queen.” He jokes, earning a scoff from you. You are taken aback, however, knowing that the news of your betrothal was strictly confidential. Only your family knew of it. You sit up to meet his gaze, your hair messy and unkempt from lying on the ground. He sits back and rests his arm on his knee.

Three years does not feel as long as it is until you notice how he’s grown. Jaehyun, now 16, still has his youthful glow that radiates his figure, but the years seem to have been kind to him. His features have become more defined, and his frame is taller. You notice his muscles, more toned than his prepubescent physique. Yet it was not the body of a common boy who helped his father with handy work, his body was that of a warrior. One that spent years training, training for a reason you were unsure of.

You shake your head and wave your arms as if pushing his words away. “I am not a queen.”

“Yet,” He says slyly, and you roll your eyes. He leans in, and tilts his head up slightly to look down at you with raised eyebrows, a knowing smile painted on his lips, “You are not a queen yet.”

“I am betrothed, I am not married. Many things can happen between now and then.” You trail off as you speak, distracting yourself with your hands. You intertwine your fingers together, hugging your hands tightly until your knuckles turn white.

Jaehyun frowns, tilting his head in curiosity, “It sounds as if you don’t wish to be married to this man.”

“I don’t.” You say bluntly and meet his eyes. You don’t know why he’s smiling, and perhaps he doesn’t know either. But when you stare into his brown orbs, you feel a rush of relief flow through his features. He sighs, and he hopes you don’t notice the way his fists unclench. He’s heard everything he wants to hear but he goes on.

“And why is that?”

You shrug, looking up at the sky for a moment. The rays of sun seem brighter, a pattern you have begun to expect with Jaehyun. “I don’t want to be nothing.”

“What do you mean by that?” He questions, eyebrows furrowing.

“I will be married. I will be his queen. I will be showered with riches. But I will not be loved. He will not love me, because he paid for me. But he will pretend to love me, for a moment. And I will feel important, for a moment. Then in a few weeks, I will be nothing to him. I am not a token to be slept with and cast aside when one decides to seek other women. I don’t want to be nothing,” Your hands finally unclench and you begin to feel the blood rush through them. You look back to Jaehyun to check if he’s still listening and you are surprised how intently he watches you, “I want to be something, I want to be everything to the man I choose to love. I want them to choose me, every day.”

Jaehyun is silent when you finish and you believe he might laugh at your hopeless desires. You’re ready to hide yourself in embarrassment for pouring your heart out to someone you haven’t seen in so long, but for some reason, nothing ever felt more right.

“I think I can help you with that.” He mumbles and you tilt your head to question him.

“And how is that?”

“My father tells me that when I live up to my potential, I’ll be able to choose my wife, any woman in the land will marry me.” You let out a loud laugh and shake your head. You swing your legs to the side and rest your hand on the ground. Though you laugh, Jaehyun remains serious and you cough to clear the air.

“So?” You ask, and Jaehyun’s hands find yours. You don’t know why, but you soften at his touch and you allow him to proceed, though you know you shouldn’t.

“I’ll choose you.” He whispers as if the words were meant for you. You feel his breath fan your face, only then noticing how close the two of you are.

When you answer, your voice is as inaudible as his. It is hesitant and soft and you believe you wouldn't be unable to speak any louder. “And if I say no?”

“You won’t be able to resist. I’ll save you a thousand times over.” His thumbs circle the back of your hands, and you feel as if Jaehyun did not come back to you with the intention to remain a friend. You felt his presence becoming imprinted on your very being, unable to forget him. You only hope he will not leave again.

“What if I’m in no danger? What if I’m in no need of saving?”

He leans in, close enough to feel your breath mix with his, but he stops himself short of feeling the sweet touch of your lips, opting to lean back with a smile. He watches as your eyes flutter close in a split second as if awaiting a kiss, only to shoot open once again, “Then I’ll hope that you choose me too.”

“You’re a what?” you question. Your quarters are lit dimly by the blue hues of moonlight, yet they still seem too bright around Jaehyun. It is only a few nights since he has last seen you, but he couldn’t stay away from you much longer.

Jaehyun leans against a wall, his gaze focuses on his hand that twists under the moonlight. It’s as if he’s trying to manipulate it or trying to soak it up. You cough once to get his attention again and he looks up at you. You’re sitting on your bed, your blankets held tightly to your body. The air is cold around you, and you shiver in the sudden chill that runs through your room. Jaehyun’s lips tighten into a slight smile and he closes the distance between you two even more. You already feel the warm flowing towards you.

“A god, haven’t you seen one?” He says it so casually as if it’s nothing. His voice is deeper, more confident than when you were eleven.

You shake your head in disbelief, “You must be horribly misinformed, Gods do not walk among the humans. Gods hate humans.” Jaehyun shrugs, the ordeal not weighing on him as much as it weighs on you. You squint your eyes at him, still trying to understand what was happening.

“But I am here, and I’m standing with you. Are you not human either? A muse, a siren perhaps?”

You let out an offended laugh, looking up at the ceiling to sort out your thoughts. When you look back at him, you meet his gaze with a glare, clenching your fist tighter. “You want me to believe you and you’re already comparing me to a siren? Is that how I come across to you?”

Jaehyun sustains his eyes contact as he crawls onto your bed. The weight shifts to his side and the proximity becomes dangerously evident. Even in the darkness, you are beginning to scan his features clearly, his dazzling eyes leaving you breathless. “Beautiful, a sickeningly sweet voice, you could be the death of me if I got a little too close.” He finishes the last word as if it’s a challenge. One eyebrow raises before he’s only a few inches away from you. When he sits, he’s already grabbing your arm, pulling you into his lap to close the gap. Your hands instinctively rest on his shoulders and his own snake around your waist. He shrugs, “It’s an easy mistake to make.”

You scoff at his actions, pushing a finger into his chest, “Maybe you are a God. If you were the god of shamelessly advancing on uninterested women.”

“Uninterested? I think not.” He says this with a squeeze to your hips, as if reminding you of your rather compromisable position, “But I’m willing to add more titles to my name.”

“Aren’t gods supposed to,” you trail off, being thrown off by the way he looks at you. You lose yourself in his smile, as he giddily watches you speak. You refocus and continue, “have more decency?”

He laughs as he always does and retorts, “My father is Zeus, I have a thousand siblings, who have a thousand lovers themselves. Please tell me about my indecency for wanting to be with one woman who has mesmerized me since I was young?”

Your hands run down the sides of his face, examining the curves and details of his features. You ponder the fact that he may be a god, for no mortal could possibly be this beautiful.

“Prove it.” You whisper, instantly being greeted by a sudden burst of light. It is the same as when you were 11, every time Jaehyun would depart from your presence. Yet this time it is smaller, a powerful thing that explodes from the boy’s hand. He closes his fist to extinguish it. A quiet gasp leaves your parted lips, and Jaehyun watches you intently for a reaction. “God of light. I knew it.” You say with a smile, hand snaking around to touch the nape of his neck.

It is in that moment, something maybe you’ve been waiting for when he returned to you when he finally kisses you. His lips are soft but are eager to feel yours. He’s been waiting to tell you this, he has wanted to tell you for years. He doesn’t know exactly why he tells you on this night, perhaps he hopes to sway you toward him more. As if you really did have a choice in the end. The kiss is chaste and you pull away before he can will you towards his desires even more. You shake your head as his face recedes and he looks at you confused.

“I cannot do this. I cannot let you sway me like this.” You remove yourself from his grasp, sitting back into your original place. Jaehyun’s expression is hurt, his crestfallen features breaking your heart painfully so.

He turns away from you, hands supporting his weight as they press against your bed behind him. His legs hang off the edge, the curve of his back hunched more than it should. He looked defeated, a pitiful laugh ripping from his throat. “My apologies, I must have been mistaken in thinking you felt the same way about me.”

“You aren’t mistaken. Do not convince yourself that your feelings are not returned.”

“Then why,” His voice is loud, anger manifesting in the pit of his stomach. He stands and his feet press hard against the floor. His sudden burst surprises you, and he takes note of this. Before he acts, he takes another second to calm himself, “Then why can’t you?” His voice breaks off into a cry. He’s desperate at this point. Everything about the way he holds himself shows that he’s broken without you, and you yearn to mend the pieces together.

“You are a god. I am a betrothed mortal. Everything about that doesn’t make sense. Gods do not marry mortals, gods impregnate mortals, leaving them to hopelessly cling to their child as the only piece of someone they loved. Gods wed goddesses.” At this, Jaehyun shakes his head in disagreement, though you believe you cannot be convinced otherwise. “For as long as you are a god, you will be meant to do godly things, things that I cannot be a part of. You will love me, and you will leave and you will discover the true beauties of the world,

“The entire world is quite literally, in the palm of your hand. You said it yourself, any woman will want you,” You rise from your place on the bed, walking to him slowly. It doesn’t occur to you that your ill-fitting garments to hide yourself from him, but it does not matter to you, “So am I supposed to sit here and wait for you? Wait while you go off, sleeping with beautiful women, forgetting about me, until I become just the mother of your demigod of a child?”

His breath becomes still as he ponders your words. His gaze doesn’t fall back to you though you want to look at him, but he speaks, “Yes, I will leave and yes you will have to wait for me. But you are terribly mistaken, my love.” He looks at you again, and you feel yourself release the breath you’ve been holding. His hand cups the side of your face, causing you to lean into his touch for more, “There is not another being in all of existence that may take my heart away from you. It is yours to keep, to do as you wish, until I come home to you. The mere thought of you is forever ingrained in me, no god may do anything about it.”

You kiss the inside of his wrist, eyes trained on him as he intently watches you, “And when I wither away like dust?” He leans in a little closer with a gentle smile, assuring your rapidly beating pulse.

“My heart shall wither away with you.”

“And my betrothal?” You ask, still concerned about your own future. He takes your other hand in his, kissing it softly, as he always does. He guides your hand to wrap behind his neck, a gesture that pulls you closer to his body.

“I will find a way, I promise you.” His claim is confident, and you can’t see yourself to doubt him in any way.

You laugh to lighten the mood, unable to hide your own giddy smile from his sweet words, “A promise from a god? I suppose I must expect you to keep your word then?”

“That is, so long as you keep yours.” He drops his hand from your face, opting to snake the around your waist. His hands run up your spin, lightly traces the curve of your body. “To choose me.”

You scoff at this, teasing him for the sake of habit, “Now I don’t believe I’ve said anything of the sort.”

He kisses you again, careful that you will not pull away. Instead, you return the kiss, pushing your body against him as if there was any more space for you to take up. This time, it is him that pulls away, with a mischievous smile painted across his swollen lips, ”Your actions have said enough.”

Jaehyun visits most nights, spending his time feeling your welcoming touch in the quiet hum of night. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, pulling your back against his body. You hum quietly and turn your body to face him with a sleepy smile. It’s been some time since you’ve accepted your feelings, years you’ve spent watching the beautiful boy in front of you grow. You examine his face for a moment, his chiseled features more prominent than ever. He was no longer the young boy with a naïve smile, you suppose you’ve changed too.

“You look more like a god.” You look up at him, scanning his features in the moonlight. You find your stare lingering for a little too long, a little too close, and a little too obvious because when Jaehyun leans in he laughs in complete delight. His laugh is breathy and sweet, and you cannot stop yourself from smiling.

He stares at you too, and a moment passes when the two of you say nothing. His eyes sway up and down your face, his expression doing nothing to hide his interest. He looks down at your hands, which at the moment were unsure of where to be. He quickly grasps your hand loosely, intertwining your fingers before looking up at you again.

“Because of my godly good looks?” He smiles slyly and kisses your hand. It’s quick but there is a warmth that surges through your veins from the same spot. He keeps your hand close enough to his lips so that you may feel the smile that blooms on his face. You roll your eyes, pulling your hand away from his grasp, and sit up from your bed with a pout.

“You do not act like a god though.” You say jokingly. Jaehyun follows suit, sitting up to place his hands on your shoulder and kiss the nape of your neck.

“And if we were to act the part we were given, you would be in another man’s bed, and I would be rampaging on the mortals who allowed it.”

You look at him doubtingly, eyes squinted as you lean closer and closer to him, “You wouldn’t dare.”

He closes the gap to a minuscule amount of space. You can feel his breath as he exhales in a breathy laugh that’s comforting in all the ways you knew, “I would if it means I have you.” He leans in to steal another kiss but you pull back to dodge his advance. His look is one of betrayal, a childish pout threatening your composure.

“If you’ll go to such lengths, why have you not stopped my betrothal already. It’s been years. My parents do not wish to have an unmarried 20-year-old. If I had not stalled I would have been bearing a child already.”

Jaehyun frowns at this, the reality of the situation never something he would like to think of. If it were up to him, he would steal you away in the dark of night, and live his days on tending to everything you need in a secluded paradise that was meant for you. But he is a god, and though the power he holds is incredible, everything cannot be up to his desires.

“I’m trying.” He says curtly, not wanting to talk about the subject. You roll your eyes at this, losing tolerance and patience.

“Are you?” You question and Jaehyun abruptly turns to you.

“I’ve talked to my father about you, my sister too.” His voice becomes spiteful, but not to you. As if he’s directing his words to the very people he speaks of. You watch his fists clench in disdain and you run your own hand over his in comfort.

“And what do they have to say?”

“My sister hates mortals.”

You laugh, already knowing this. Gods and goddess did not care for mortals. They were only burdens, pawns of entertainment they may sway and manipulate for their own pleasure. You had no place by Jaehyun, you knew this. When you nod solemnly, Jaehyun goes on, tearing his gaze away from you to the view outside. He watches the starlight pour into the room, wondering how the Gods could create such beautiful things yet have souls as ugly as they are.

“She wants me to discard of you.” He says and your lips purse. When he turns to you again, his hand raises to your face pulling you in for a kiss. But this did not feel like it was for you. It was meant to send a sign, to show the gods above and below that he wouldn’t stop. When he pulls away your breathless and your skin is hot from his touch. He draws himself away from you with a boyish smile and devious intentions,“I don’t take orders from my sister.” He kisses you again, except with enough force to push you onto your back.

You want to give in, every piece of you does. But when you open your eyes, you are pulled back to the reality of the situation, “But your father? Surely you are obligated to take orders from him.”

“He believes I’m making the biggest mistake any God could make.” He says quickly, before falling into you again. He hopes you don’t catch the way he emphasizes the word “god”. The way he says it with such mischief, it’s impossible to believe he doesn’t have anything planned. But he lies to you, kisses you sweetly to sway you away from the prospect because he knows what you would say. But he wants you too much, he won’t even let you get in the way of it.

Jaehyun requests an appearance with his father with a plan of action. He will ask him to relinquish his godly status, to strip him of his title, so he may be with you in peace. He expects the reaction he gets, Zeus assuming he’s gone mad. He does not expect his most lethal sibling to be in attendance as well, however. He knows she is there for a reason, and he is sick just thinking of it.

“Father, Jaehyun loves the humans now. How shameful.” Jaehyun’s sister says in a shrill voice. Gown dragging against the floor. Her voice was sharp, soaked in gasoline and lit a flame to every syllable that passed her lips. Her eyes were vehement, unfaltering even to the strongest warriors. If his father was the single most terrifying in the world, his sister was the second. For she lacked the mercy that many Gods held. She was ruthless in every sense of the word, he could not fathom what she would do to you if she was given the chance. She was a force that was not to be reckoned with, for dire consequence lie ahead if one dared.

His father stands firmly in front of the young god. His air of calmness brings everything but. He shook the earth with a single breath, his words causing more calamity in its path. “No, Jaehyun loves only one. And perhaps that will be a far bigger mistake.” He replies, his gaze not tearing from his son’s eyes. Jaehyun takes a deep breath, not making the effort to interject, “You realize what you’re giving up, boy. You, a god of light, a god that many gods cannot dream to imitate, want to give all of that up. For a girl?”

Jaehyun answers with a firm, yes, earning an offended scoff from his sister. His father, however, brings the world to silence with a fist to the wall beside him. Jaehyun’s surprised it doesn’t break beneath his hand, he must have been holding back-he thinks.

“You are immortal. You will find thousands of women like her. You have the rest of the world to see, she is only a measly part of that. When she grows old and weary, you will not love her anymore, she will be noth-“

“Do not speak of her like that.” The way he says it makes even his sister hesitate. The sheer power that is projected through his words is frightening. His eyes burn with a fire so black, the heat that radiates is lethal. They did not know he could hold such passion, manipulate the tension within the room to the point that it’s suffocating. “I will never live another day of my life without loving her. She is a part of me now, spiting her, you are spiting me. You said it yourself father, I have acquitted much power within myself.”

His father doesn’t say a word for a moment and Jaehyun decides he rather he openly showed his wrath. Because the look that Jaehyun is given is one of pure evil. One that has been stripped of mercy, leaving pour souls dead and buried and rolling through their graves in pain. The look sends regret through Jaehyun in a split second, his breath being stuck in his throat for long he thinks he has forgotten how to in the first place.

“Even the greatest of gods need to be put in their place.”

When Jaehyun returns to the mortal world, he is broken and beaten. He stumbles into your palace, pushing past servants in a frantic hurry. He falls to his knees, trying to bear the excruciating pain he feels from his father’s hands. Though immortal, he feels as though he might die, and when he thinks of what could possibly happen to you he really thinks he will. For he will take any pain in the world, twice over, every day of his long-lived life, but if your life was jeopardy he doesn’t believe he’ll make it.

His sudden desire to find you erupts as he watches his sister leave the site in the midst of his punishment with a mischievous grin painted on her face. Her eyes make way to his head between a banister and the grip of his father, dripping with malignant intentions, and a hand raises to wave goodbye to him delicately. It is the same eyes he sees walk past him now, leaving your quarters. They are just as sharp, as lethal as he has always known. But he doesn’t linger long enough to say because soon as he comprehends the weight of the situation before him, he is rushing into your room.

Though Jaehyun has lived years, upon years of war, of violence, he believes he will never see a sight as terrifying as what’s before him. You lie on your bed, gasping for air, the flowing cloth of your gown becoming soaked in rivers of crimson. A cry escapes Jaehyun’s throat as he runs to your side. He feels himself losing focus, his head dizzying by the second. He lifts you onto his lap, trying to press his hand against the wounds on your body.

“Would you still choose me?” The way your voice falters with an exhausted push through your chest tears apart his entire resolve. His body shakes as he holds you, tears he didn’t know he could produce falling onto your face. His hand brushes the sweat-soaked strands of hair out of your face, a futile attempt to take away a piece of the discomfort. He begins with an aggressive nod of his head, eyes focusing on your face to keep his attention on the lower half of your body. He didn’t want to see how serious it really was, he didn’t want to know how slim your chances were becoming.

“Of course, but I suppose you’ve known my choice for a while now.” You smile at this, the pain becoming so lasting, you almost feel numb to it. Jaehyun wonders how you could remain so bright despite the circumstance but he decides that it is precisely why he had loved you so fast and so relentlessly. Your hand meets his where it lays on your cheek and you use all of your power to squeeze it gently.

“So I get to choose then?” You ask, voice getting so faint he must lean in to decipher your words.

“Yes, you do get to choose.” His voice trembles, teeth pulling his bottom lip in a tight grip. You look away from his face to think for a moment, a quiet hum escaping your lips. He coughs to regain your attention; eyes training themselves back on the beautiful boy that you’ll lose far too soon. You occupy yourself with memorizing the lines of his face, the curve of his lip; the feather-light lashes that brush against his cheekbones. You want to know his face in death, you want his to be the face you’ll greet mere seconds from now, “should I be concerned about your choice?”

You laugh with a shake of your head, your senses becoming duller than you remember. The edges of your vision fade to charcoal blur, yet the fear you once held dissolves into content of where you were.

“No. “ You reply bluntly, aware of the very small window left before you, “I already chose, a decade ago.” Your eyes flutter shut in a helpless attempt to stay conscious, to stay present for him. He brings both hands to your face frantically, whispering a line of frantic pleas for time. You swear you hear him utter his father's name on a whim to save you. You feel yourself open your eyes once more, “I chose you when we were eleven, I chose you every day I had you, I’ll choose you in death until you come back to me.”

Jaehyun lets out an exasperated sob as he watches your eyes shut for the last time, and he curses the very core of the earth he walks in. Your body goes limp in his arms yet he continuous to hug you in hopes to feel your arms tighten around him. His voice becomes an incomprehensible string of screams, the bloodcurdling nature informing the rest of the servants who wait outside in fear of what just occurred before them.

He stays until the crowd dissipates and he’s left with the agonizingly quiet air you have left. His knees bleed a dark crimson from the hours he has spent kneeling on the ground. His voice is coarse, any sign of life escaping as well. The world disappears around him. The ground, the sky, the greenery that lines the edges of your walls, fade into an excruciating oblivion. For when you died, everything that was beautiful and sweet died with you. A conspicuous reminder of the hole you so stubbornly left within the young warrior.

When you died, Jaehyun dies with you, and in the end, he wonders if it were for the better.

It is the warm spring of your sixteenth year when you find a peculiar boy picking off bites from your father's crop. A boy your age, and radiates a burst of light that illuminated in your presence. He bites from a fig, juice dripping down his face sloppily, but he wipes it off with a smile.

The way he looks at you hurts, though you aren’t sure why. He looks at you like he’s been waiting for you, and he exhales like he’s been holding his breath until this very moment. He looks as if he’s been searching, searching every day of his life, and he has finally found what he lost. He looks at you and a sudden rush of emotion pushes through you. You do not know what to feel, and you do not know if you want to cry from complete happiness or overwhelming despair. But you’re crying and you do not know why, and this boy in front of you does not look the least bit surprised.

You wipe a tear from your face as you catch your breath and collect yourself. “Do I know you?”

He shines brightly in the dullness that fills your life and a single breath is held in your throat. He moves closer to you with the same smile, one that breaks in you into a million pieces, scatters for him to pick up. And by the way he looks at you, you know he will.

“I am just a friend.”

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shuuv · 7 years ago

Text

Love is in a Pineapple

‘pitter patter pitter patter...’ heavy rain drops fell from the sky and into the ground. It wasn't a busy street but there were still a few people here and there with their umbrellas. Deep in an alleyway stood a man. He wasnt tall but neither was he short, some what average you could say. Cloaked in blue and with a long sword in his hand, he looked at the trash that stood beneath him. He then took the sword in his hand, and stabbed it into the ground. ‘Fushimi-san! It’s almost time to report back to HQ!’ His colleague, Hidaka Akira called out to him. The two of them were sent on a mission to inspect illegal drug deals by strain in the Shizume-Cho area. A place that was once runned by a gang known as ‘HOMRA’.A few months ago many things happened and HOMRA is nothing more than a quiet gathering of homies. Sure they're still rowdy but not the same as before. Fishing clicked his tongue and walked out of the alley, dragging his sword behind him. They hopped into the company car and drove off into the rain. By the time the clock ticked 7pm, most of the troops were finishing up dinner and rushing off to bathe. Fushimi however, was still finishing up his paperwork. ‘tsk, that domyouji...’ irritated he kept typing and typing on his laptop. The rain hadn't let up. All that could be heard was the typing, soft patter of the rain and the air-conditioning outside. as he kept typing, he leaned back and reviewed the content hed just wrote. The gentle glow of the computer was perhaps the only source of light in the room. When he saw the reflection of his glasses in the screen, he used his hand and gently went over the small crack at the bottom. It was when Munakata brought in a baby strain and it wrecked havoc in the entire office. Thinking back, it had been quite awhile since he’d joined & so many things had happened. There was the Kusuhara Takeru incident, followed by the first special squad party he didn't show up to, then the baby and poisonous animals callback and then Akiyama’s & Benzai’s kotatsu hell and so much more. He’d often wonder if it was a mistake to join scepter 4 & leave his best friend in HOMRA but once the slates were destroyed, his conscious became clear to him. Scepter 4 was his path, and no one could tell him otherwise. On the otherside of town, back in Shizume-Cho, Yata Misaki had just finished his dinner in Bar HOMRA. ‘Yata, did something happen today? You seem a little agitated’ Kusanagi Izumo, the bar tender asked the little redhead. ‘Nah nothing much. The Blues were around though. Apparently strains too.’ he replied, scraping the rest of his curry from his plate and eating it. ‘Thanks for the food,’ he then threw himself on the sofa and laid there, closing his eyes & recalling all the incidents of today. It started off with the boys firing pancakes for Kushina Anna and then going about their usual rounds. Speak— or rather, think of the devil, Anna had just came down for a glass of milk. As Izumo & her made small talk, Yata found himself dozing off on the couch. Only to be awaken to his watch ring chime. ‘What isit you fatso?’ ‘Yata-San! I'm sorry for disturbing you but there are some strains here and—’ ‘HUH?! WHY DIDNT YOU SAY SO EARLIER?! IM ON MY WAY!!’ ‘Wait i’m no—’ Yata had hungup before Rikio Kamamoto; the one at the other end of the line; could finish his sentence. Anna and Izumo looked at Yata with concern. ‘Yata, maybe you should hear what Kamamoto has to say before hanging up y’know?’ ‘Yea whatever. See ya later!’ That child sure is troublesome. After Yata had finally reached the location sent to him by Kamamoto, he noticed there were flashing blue lights all around the area. Upon seeing Kamamoto, he shouted ‘Hey Fatso! what's going on?!’ It wasn't too long before he learnt that a drug deal gone wrong had caused all this commotion. Seemed like due to HOMRA’s intrusion, most of the perpetrators got away and some of Scepter 4’s members were badly injured. One of which was Fushimi Saruhiko. Yata’s eyes widened at this, the grip on his bat tightened and he gritted his teeth. ‘You stupid fatso! Why didn't you call me earlier?!’ ‘i— I was....’ Yata had stopped listening to all these excuses. He was more worried about his friend than anything. Not just a friend, probably a brother or even something else. Something more than just a brotherly bond. He thought back to all they'd gone through together. He ran to a back alley way, where no one would see him. Unfortunately, he had stepped in some strange, sticky liquid of sorts. There was a fine line right in the middle of the semi-black pineapple, he touched it and the sticky substance got onto his hand. Instead of cleaning it away, he decided to play with it. Between his 3 fingers, he kept opening and closing. Watching the substance stretch before clamping it shut. It had a sickly sweet scent, with a hint of rotten eggs. He pressed his thumb hard against his index and middle finger, before releasing the pressure bit by bit then stretching his whole hand again. It seemed as though, then and there, something clicked. He got on his skateboard and went back to his one room apartment. Bursting in like a whirlwind, the wet Yata had accidentally knocked over an umbrella stand but he didn't care. The apartment was nicely decorated, granted it was messy. Clothes and pillows lying around the floor. There was a vintage photoframe with a picture of HOMRA before the tragedy occurred. There were also a few other pictures, of his family One picture in particular, was slightly torn up but had been fixed with tape. It was a picture of him and Fushimi, both smiling. Yata was someone that would hold on to people & articles dearly, so when Fushimi betrayed HOMRA, it’d hurt him more than what others knew. Fushimi meant so much to him, and he wasn't going to lose him now. So he decided to help Fushimi the only way he knew how. At the hospital, Fushimi was alone. They took out the cardiogram, so he wouldnt be dead or anything but he had alot of recovering to go through. He had used his spoon to play with the grungy, brown looking food infront of him but there was no way in hell he’d eat it. It was disgusting, to say the least. Right then and there, there was a knock on the door. ‘tsk. go away munakata’ ‘im not Munakata though’ Fushimis eyes had widened. His throat, now dry, gulped and his hands were shaking. ‘whats he doing here?’, thoughts like this ran through his mind. He was so confused yet excited. Yata was the world to Fushimi, even though he’d never say it aloud. But then, Fushimi still didn't want Yata to enter. Yata shouldn't see him in this sorry state. ‘go away misaki...’ Then, the door vigorously opened ‘Are you sure? You monkey!’ All of a sudden, fushimi felt embarrassed. He wrapped his arms around himself and his cheeks blemished red. Yata sat next to him on the bed and placed his plastic bag on the table with the grungy food. There was a warm aroma coming from the bag, that was rather nostalgic for Fushimi. He could identify it as pineapple fried rice, the Kind that Yata made for him once, when they were in school. ‘whats wrong?’ Yata asked, he the placed his hand against Fushimi’s cheek and tilted his head. ‘you shouldn't be here, misaki....’ acting like a tsundere, he turned his head in the opposite direction and closed his eyes. His arms wrapping around his frail, skinny body tighter. ‘im always here for you, my monkey...’ with that, Yata smiled, just a little, but he moved in, closer to fushimis face. Fushimi’s arms loosened, and soon dropped onto the bed. His mouth opened a little and his eyes were nearly closed. Misaki, with a smile, placed his nose against fushimis’, and then, moved in for a kiss. I'm back from the dead :> ill try to write more & more hoho but it took me 3 days to churn this out :'')

#kproject #sarumi #misaki fushimi #Yata Misaki #fushimisaruhiko

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knopfcooks · 5 years ago

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Basic Strawberry Jam

From SAVING THE SEASON by Kevin West

That’s me at seven years old, holding strawberries that my mother and I had picked at the local pick-your-own patch in upstate South Carolina back in the seventies. About three decades later, I was carrying home a similar flat of strawberries from the Santa Monica Farmers Market when I decided to make jam for the first time. My first attempt was not a success, but this is the recipe I’ve arrived at since. It’s nothing revolutionary—a broadly similar recipe can be found in the 1824 cookbook The Virginia Housewife by Thomas Jefferson’s second cousin Mary Randolph. Still, I’ve tweaked the basic technique in little ways and adjusted ingredients to balance sweet and tart flavors.

To get started, go shopping at a farmers’ market or roadside farmstand if at all possible, and seek out the smallest, reddest berries. Fragrance is a good indicator of quality, but tasting is better still. The giant strawberries favored by supermarket produce managers are not a good choice. I call them “Pamela Anderson fruit,” artificially enhanced and tasteless.

The sugar content in this recipe is lower than in many traditional farmhouse recipes, but there’s still enough for a soft-set consistency and to ensure a reasonably long shelf life once opened.

Do not double the quantities, at least not initially. A small batch is cheaper, faster, more manageable, and better suited to the size of standard household equipment. If you want more jars, make two small batches. I can assure you from personal experience that you’ll be happier with the outcome. In fact, the more experienced I get, the more I’m inclined to do three or four jars at a time—a nice little job to knock off in an hour, rather than a labor that wrings the fun out of the afternoon.

Yields 2 pints

You will need:

2 pounds ripe strawberries

Choose small, fragrant berries that are just-ripe. If possible, use the fruit the same day you bring it home, or as soon as you can afterward. Misshapen “ugly” berries are fine if they are prime quality. Discard any fruit that is bruised and mushy, or that has an overripe taste of fermentation.

2½ cups sugar

White granulated sugar has a neutral flavor that won’t overwhelm the delicate berry taste. It is fine to replace some or all of the white sugar with unrefined organic sugar, but the stronger flavor that comes from its pale-brown molasses residue may be noticeable in the finished jam. You could also replace a portion of the sugar with half as much honey (by volume), but be aware that honey is a moderately strong flavoring agent that will impart its taste.

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

Always use freshly squeezed juice for its bright, floral flavor. The acidity of lemon juice balances the sugar’s sweetness and also helps the strawberry’s natural pectin to gel.

Optional: a few scrapings of lemon zest

The best tool for zesting citrus is the Microplane grater. The tiny curls it produces will hardly be visible, but they add a more noticeable lemon note than does the juice. By “a few scrapings,” I mean you should add a little bit, taste the results, and add a little bit more if you’d like. Or skip the zest altogether—it’s optional.

1. Before you start, wash your jars and lids in hot, soapy water. Rinse and drain them well, and place the jars in a 200-degree oven so they will be warm when you need them. Bring a small pan of water to a boil, remove it from the heat, and submerge the lids in the hot water. The rings can simply be washed. Also, put a couple of saucers and metal spoons in the freezer. You’ll need them later, to test for a gel set. Briefly rinse the berries and remove their caps. To avoid water logging the berries, fill a basin with cool water, dunk the berries, agitate for a few moments, and immediately lift them out to drain in a colander. If the berries are very gritty, dunk them a second time in fresh water, but do not allow them to soak. Combine with the sugar, lemon juice, and zest in a large bowl, and crush with a potato masher (or your hands).

Crushing the berries has two obvious effects: to break down the fruit’s structure and to release juices. Crushed fruit will cook more quickly and produce a more consistent—although still-chunky—texture. Don’t use a food processor, a blender, or an immersion blender. Your aim is not to liquefy the fruit, simply to break it apart. If you don’t have a potato masher (or even if you do), the perfect implement for this task would be your two hands—crush the berries between your fingers.

2. Turn the fruit-sugar mash into a preserving pan, and bring to a boil over high heat, stirring regularly. Choose a preserving pan wide enough to accommodate the fruit-sugar mixture at a depth of about 1 inch. Use your strongest heating element, and turn it up to full capacity. The goal is to bring the fruit-sugar mixture to a boil as quickly as possible. Watch the pot closely, and stir at least every 30 seconds. Reduce at a full rolling boil, stirring all the while . . . A full rolling boil is a boil you cannot stir down. When the fruit-sugar mixture first comes to a boil, it will foam, but the foam will eventually subside with stirring. Don’t worry about skimming the pan yet—that comes later. It is crucial to note that the high cooking heat requires that you stir the pan ceaselessly. Do not step away from the stove! If the phone rings, let it ring. Jam will scorch if left unattended, especially in the last minute or two of cooking. If you absolutely must step away from the stove, turn off the heat, and resume cooking when you return. . . . to the gel point, 8 to 10 minutes, depending on the size of your pan and the strength of the heat source. The fruit-sugar mixture will pass through four stages in the preserving pan: raw, cooked, reduced, and gel set.

Raw:

The fruit-sugar mixture is cold when it goes into the pan, and will continue to look like what it is—raw fruit in a granular syrup—as it heats.

Cooked:

After the boil, the berries will be hot all the way through and will take on the translucent, slumped look of cooked fruit.

Reduced:

As the mixture continues to boil and more water evaporates from the pan, the liquid will reduce until it is visibly thicker, coating the edge of the pan and showing some “body” as it pours off the lip of a spoon. (Toward the end of this stage, you may want to moderate the heat to prevent scorching.)

Gel Set:

This is the stage at which the hot jam is fully reduced and ready to jar. Glossy and thick, it will cling to the side of the preserving pan, coat the back of a cold spoon, and fall from the spoon in a “sheet” or clump.The temperature at which the gel set occurs is 8 degrees above the boiling point of water at your elevation (water boils at 212 degrees at sea level or 203 degrees in mile-high Denver). To verify the gel set, use a digital thermometer, or go by the traditional “cold- saucer test.”

Before you do a cold-saucer test, first turn off the flame beneath the preserving pan. Place a teaspoon of hot jam on a chilled saucer and leave it in the freezer for one minute, then push your fingertip through the puddle. If the chilled jam has formed a light skin that wrinkles as you push it, or if a dab of jam between your fingertip and thumb forms a thread as you open a gap, then you have a gel set. Otherwise, put the preserving pan back on the heat, reduce the contents for another minute, then check the gel set again.If you’re still unsure of whether you have a gel set, take the preserving pan off the heat and stir it for 60 seconds.

As it cools slightly, study it: Does it stick to the edges of the pan? Can you draw a line in the bottom of the pan with your spoon? Does it mound in a spoon? Does the hot product look like jam? If so, you probably have a gel set. Or, on the other hand: Is there still excess liquid “in the corners” of the pan—that is, around the edges? Does the hot mixture splash rather than slosh if you slap it against the edge of the pan? Does the liquid dribble quickly off the edge of a spoon? Does the hot mixture look like cooked fruit in thickened syrup? Does the liquid look shiny, like water, rather than lustrous, like jam? If so, you probably do not yet have a gel set.

3. Once a gel set has been achieved, skim if necessary . . . If at this point there is any unsightly scum on the jam, skim it off and discard. I like to stir the hot jam vigorously for 60 seconds off the heat to improve consistency and evaporate a bit more water. . . . and ladle the hot jam into four prepared ½-pint jars, leaving ¼ inch headspace. You want to get the hot jam into jars promptly. Don’t fill the jar to the rim, but leave a headspace for the jam to expand during the boiling-water bath. Seal, and process in a boiling-water bath for 10 minutes.

NOTE: The yield can vary, depending on a number of factors: the water content of your fruit, whether you use less or more sugar, and how much you reduce the hot jam to achieve the desired consistency.

Excerpted from Saving the Season by Kevin West. Copyright © 2013 by Kevin West. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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