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pwarkluv · 3 years

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❝ what is love? - l.mk ❞

lee mark x reader | fluff | 2k words

WARNINGS | lowercase is intended, idol au, love at first sight au, 6thmemberofitzy!reader, shy!mark and shy!reader, fluff bc that’s what i’m best at LOL, another request :), just enjoy <3

REQUEST | “hii i read ur electric love fic w jisung and i really loved it :DD could you do the same for mark ? still as the 6th member of itzy ofc :D” - my lovely anon <3

SUMMARY | he wonders what is love, but finds the answer in you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “what is love” by twice (english lyrics by genius translations)! ANOTHER REQUEST HDSFKLDSJHF IM SO SO SO SO EXCITED! i wanted to change up the setting so it’s still 6th member itzy, but not in weekly idol :P ALSO this was inspired by when nct dream, itzy, and stray kids sat next to each each other in that one award show so yeah lolol. IM SO SORRY I LOST THE MESSAGE WHERE MY ANON ASKED FOR IT BUT I STILL WROTE IT FOR YOU! I LOVE YOU, THANK YOU, NEVER BE SHY TO DM ME ;)

what is love?

mark knew the general idea of it; the sappy moments movies show, the “butterflies in your stomach” feeling books portray, the pain and hardships songs make you feel.

but he’s never been in love, at least not like this.

❝ how could it be as sweet as candy? ❞

training at such a young age molded mark into the perfect idol, and with that he was fully aware dating would look bad to the public. he accepted the fact that he might never find love, all to help achieve his dream.

but as cheesy as it sounds, the canadian wished to be loved.

yes he was loved by his members, his family, his friends, his fans; but the type of love he longed for was something none of them could give him.

mark wanted to feel the sweetness of being in love, the giddiness you’d feel whenever you talk to them, the pounding of your heart whenever they’re near. he wanted to experience the overwhelming need to be with that person, like if they’re gone for too long it’s like you can’t breathe.

was being in love like making a song for the very first time? or was it like eating watermelon all the time?

so many questions with no answers, the boy left to wander in his own thoughts.

❝ how it’s like flying in the sky? ❞

he smiled bittersweetly as the newly wed couple danced around in confetti, the sound of laughter and cheers resonating around the room. one of nct’s managers that had been with them since the beginning invited them to her wedding, to which the team obviously accepted.

all 23 of them were happy for their noona who found her happy ending. mark could only watch in awe at the sight of the two lovebirds, the love and adoration for the other evident in the way they looked at each other.

his heart tugged a bit knowing he wanted something like that too.

“being in love is like flying in the sky.” his manager explained to the boy as a makeup artist experimentally brushed strokes on her face. it was a couple hours before the ceremony when mark knocked on her hotel door, wanting to visit his favorite noona before she finally said ‘i do’.

his question left his mouth before mark could fully register what he was about to say, the poor boy flushing a bit as the woman laughed at him.

“are you in love mark? is that why you’re asking me how i knew i was in love?” she teased as mark stutterd, denying her accusation.

“n-no i swear!” he said as his manager continued laughing, the makeup artist having to pause a bit to let her get it all out. “i’m just curious.” mark said quietly trying to stop the heat from rushing up to his cheeks.

“well being in love is a magical feeling.” the woman said, turning a bit serious. mark sat up straight as he listened intently. “when you realize you love someone, it can be a scary thing. love isn’t perfect mark, and i want you to know that. there are moments where you want to scream and rip your hair out, or cry to let it all out.”

the boy nodded in understanding, having a bit of knowledge from all the good breakup songs taylor swift writes about.

“but it can also change your whole world.” she continued on. “it’s like seeing the world again for the very first time and the colors are more vibrant. it’s like having a permanent reason to be happy, and a reason to stay.” she explained as the mark sat quietly trying to comprehend it all.

❝ i wanna know know know know, what is love? ❞

the poor boy’s head couldn’t wrap around the thought of you.

his heart hammered in his chest as he secretly glanced at you, desperately trying to avoid suspicion from fans and his members. you were just too breathtaking, having the canadian looking back for more.

the moment he first laid eyes on you, it was like an epiphany. you were the answer to all his questions.

so this is what it feels like, mark thinks to himself as he looks back on all the things he’s heard about love.

the butterflies, the pounding of your heart, the “seeing the world in a whole new perspective”, mark felt everything and as much as he felt excited, he was scared.

as harmless as it sounds, award shows were a risky thing for idols. being surrounded by fans of different groups as well as said groups themselves always seemed to cause a bit of a stir between fans.

between dating rumors and rumors about beef between two idols, anything could happen.

but usually mark would be okay. he’s been doing this for a long time and knew how to behave.

however what he didn’t expect was to see you, the tiny rookie idol from the newly debuted girl group ‘itzy’.

nct 127’s table was right next to yours which let mark have a clear view of your pretty eye smile as you laughed at something lia had whispered into your ear. your laugh was bubbly and contagious, the boy having to physically stop himself from wanting to laugh too.

he was panicking, but mark couldn’t tell if it was in a good or bad way.

❝ what does love feel like? ❞

your breath hitched as you saw the boy sneak glances at you from the corner of your eye.

the mark lee was looking at you, your heart racing as you tried to deny the fact that he was staring you down. there was no way the dude you’ve looked up to your entire trainee life is noticing you, no way at all.

everyone has heard of mark lee even if you weren’t into kpop. he was just that iconic.

you’ve been an nctzen since the very beginning, being there for nct u’s debut stage. in fact, nct was the very reason you decided to audition to become an idol in the first place. you looked up to the team but more importantly you looked up to a certain canadian in the group.

originally doyoung was your bias in nct when nct u first came out. but as the years passed by you found yourself more and more intrigued by mark, having him absolutely wreck your bias list.

since then you’ve been a loyal mark stan, even rapping his part in cherry bomb for your audition tape which ultimately led you to become an idol yourself.

you refused to believe you were in love with the dude, not knowing a single thing about him. there was no way you could love him, not if you’ve never even met the boy.

but your heart seemed to prove you wrong as it beat wildly knowing mark was sitting right there on the table next to you.

“you okay bubs?” lia asked in a worried tone, leaning in to whisper into your ear. she saw the way your leg bounced in a fast rhythm, knowing you only did that when you were nervous.

you forced a smile as you hesitantly looked her way, knowing that she could take one look into your eyes and know you were lying. “i'm fine unnie, don’t worry about me.” you replied as sweetly as you could, wishing the elder wouldn’t notice a thing.

though you two and yeji were the eldest in the group, all being born in the year 2000, you were the baby of the unnie line. lia and yeji knew you the best, having grown up with you after all.

the girl only gave you a look before taking your hand in hers to give a soft squeeze. “i know you’re lying but i won’t push you. also mark lee from nct 127 is totally checking you out.” lia said, whispering a bit on the last part. she winked as you flushed, looking away in horror.

johnny nudged the boy next to him with a small smirk, clearly seeing the heart eyes he was giving the girl in the table next to them. mark jumped a bit at the feeling, looking at his hyung with confusion.

“so y/n of itzy?” johnny said with a small smile as the younger immediately sat up straight.

“is it that obvious?” mark whispered back with a hint of fear in his eyes.

if any of the fans were to get a hold of this… the boy could only shiver at the thought.

johnny’s playful smile dropped a bit at mark’s worried look knowing how he must feel. they were idols after all.

“don’t worry, i only noticed because she was looking back at you too.” he said, mark flushing at the revelation.

“really?” he asked a little out of it.

“i say talk to her after this?” the elder said, laughing a bit when mark jumped in his seat, immediately saying no.

❝ will love come to me someday? ❞

“unnie why are you making me stay in the dressing room~” you whined as the end of the award show came along.

you just wanted to go home, your body worn out. not from all the dancing but from the way it viciously pounded in your chest whenever you ever thought about mark.

lia only smirked in retaliation as she brought a hand up to squish your cheeks. “trust me, you’ll thank me later.” she said as she walked out of the dressing room, bumping into a 6 foot tall boy with a smaller boy behind him.

“oops sorry.” she said a little playfully, as lia gave a wink to johnny knowing their plan was going accordingly. johnny only gave her a small smile, but if you looked closely you could see the mischief in his eyes.

“hyung where are we going?” mark asked, a little weirded out by the two’s interaction. johnny only ignored the boy, dragging him by his arm as they walked down the hallway.

“hyung i swear if this is a prank i’ll-” mark’s words were cut off as the two entered a door, only to see your confused face staring back at him.

“oh shit.” he cursed under his breath, a little taken aback from how beautiful you were. one whole award show later and you were still as gorgeous as when he first saw you sitting down in the table next to his.

your confused face quickly turned to an embarrassed one as you noticed the boy, turning another shade of red when you noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“hi y/n, my name is johnny and this is my band mate mark.” the taller boy said, holding his hand out in a handshake.

“h-hi i’m y/n.” you stuttered, not expecting to see the boy you’ve been daydreaming about for the past two hours to be right in front of you.

mark gawked at the sight of you, his mind malfunctioning as the words seemed to get stuck at the tip of his tongue.

“markie right here has something he wants to ask you.” johnny said, pushing the younger in front of him with a grunt.

this seemed to knock him right out of his trance, a hand coming up to the back of his neck as he stared down at the floor with pink cheeks.

“do you maybe wanna-”

“yes.” you blurted out, a hand covering your mouth in shock. “i-if you were gonna ask if i wanted to hang out sometime, the answer is yes.” you said a little shyly as the boy smiled.

all this time mark thought he was gonna find love, but maybe love found him instead.

“i’ll pick you up at 6 tomorrow evening.” mark said with a sweet smile as he took a step back only to be pushed back up again by johnny.

“you don’t even have her number you dumbass.” the elder scolded, disappointed at how dumb the boy was.

your laughter caught both of the boy’s attention as you put your hand out with a small smile. “you want my number or nah?”

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spacegirlapollo · 4 years

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Right Here, Right Now [Shouta Aizawa Smut]

Title: Right Here, Right Now

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Words: 3,379

Notes: It’s a little long sorry sksk. But if you wanna skip to the juicy bits, scroll down to the “Part Two” Line break. Enjoy! Also Going to be trying to do a Sinful Saturday series where I post Smut on Sundays. Right now it’s mainly Aizawa but will be other characters as im feeling it. Send a request if you want !

--------------------- Part One ------------------------

Out of everyone you knew, your husband, AIzawa Shouta, had the quietest footsteps you never heard. He developed the frightening skill, from his undercover hero work, years before he’d even become a teacher at U.A.

You took it as a sign of your strong relationship however that sometimes you could sense his presence, even if you couldn't hear him. You always enjoyed the surprised look on his face when you turned to see him whenever he was silently catwalking into a room.

And now was one of those times, there were no signs to say that he’d entered your shared bathroom, except that you knew he had.

You looked up from the countertop full of your makeup products to see him, looking at the slight mess you’d made of the sink area. Your mouth fell open when you saw the state that he was in.

“Shouta!” You exclaimed in genuine horror. “ What the fuck are you wearing?”

You hadn’t meant for the last part to come out. And even though Aizawa was fully aware of your tendency to have a sailor mouth, you still hadn’t meant to say it. But you were appalled at the solid black dress pants, horizontally striped dress shirt, and dark navy blue jacket that he was wearing. The more you looked at him the more you noticed that nothing he was wearing was matching.

His eyebrow twitched a bit, but he gave you an otherwise blank look. You sighed, closing the eyeliner bottle in your hand and placing it on the sink.

You had suspected, when you were younger and first began dating, that Aizawa lacked some fashion sense. He’d mostly stuck to black anytime he went outside so matching wasn't really a problem. It wasn’t until you begam spending the night with him, that you’d seen him put together outfits that made absolutely no sense. You’d always found it funny to see what he would toss on.

It had been decided, mostly by you, that for big events you’d pick out the clothes. And it had been years of this going smoothly. You suspected that since you dressed him so sharply, he’d gotten compliments, and that was why he continued to let you dress him up.

And before you’d gone into the bathroom to fix your makeup, you’d laid out his outfit for the night on the bed.

There was a teacher’s appreciation night at U.A and you were going as his plus one. This had been your 5th time going together, and each year was more fancy than the last.

Shouta was crossing his arms over his chest, still not having said a word.

“Babe.” You said carefully as to not burst out into laughter. “ What happened to what I put on the bed?”

He uncrossed his arms and scratched the back of his head looking slightly uncomfortable. Now you were confused. He never had any issues before with what you’d picked out. In fact, if you had forgotten to pick an outfit he’d gently remind you. You thought back to what you’d put on the bed, a simple black suit was what you had gone with since you were wearing a black dress. There was no way he wouldn't have liked it.

“It’s…. Too small.” He said finally, embarrassment tinting his cheeks.

“To small?” You were confused. You’d bought it only 8 months ago. You did a quick glance over, he hadn’t put on any weight where you could see.

“In the arms.. And thighs.” He said, he looking like he wished he could sink into the floor.

“Oh.” You said blinking. “ OHH!” you said again louder when you finally understood. Honeslty you felt a little dumb. He’d gotten buffer. You could even see in what he was wearing now that the arms were a little too tight and you could almost see the outline of his muscles as if it was a fitted jacket.

This time you couldn’t help the laugh that came out, which only got louder as he gave you a glare.

“I-I’m sorry baby. I don't mean to laugh” You said in between laughs.

“Yeah you do.” He mused out but he didn't seem upset.

You came closer and squeezed on his upper arms, which barely had any room, left in them, and were so… solid.

You couldn't deny that he had gotten thicker over the year, you just hadn’t thought about it when you bought the suit.

“Hmm… Maybe I do.” You said cheekily smiling up at him. He gave you a small smile back in spite of himself.

“Okay.” You said stepping back a bit and looking him up and down. “ Take all of that off. I’m going to use my quirk.

At this he looked surprised, an eyebrow raised. “Are you sure? You always get a headache when you use it too much.”

You shook your head.” This won't be so bad. I already have an idea of what I’m going to make.”

He gave you another skeptical look before he unbuttoned the jacket to start taking it off.

You bit your lip a little as he focused on unbuttoning the dress shirt and sliding it off his frame.

He’d definitely gotten bigger, you weren't sure if it was deliberate, but you did not mind in the least. His hair fell over his face as he bent over to pull his pants off and move the pile of clothes out of the way.

You paused for a minute to take in your husband and all his glory as he stood in only his boxers and socks.

“Do you not like it?” He said quietly, shattering your ungodly thoughts.

You blinked. “ Huh?” You asked looking up at his unreadable face.

“That I’m bigger. Do you not like it?” He asked again.

You felt like someone had smacked you. Your husband, THE Aizawa Shouta was feeling a little insecure. Because he kept his cards so close to the chest, it hadn't even crossed your mind that he would ever experience that feeling. And the fact that he was being vulnerable, right now in front of you made your love for him multiply.

You opened your mouth before you could even think to maybe censor yourself.

“Honestly Shouta, you look so fucking hot, I’m actually debating about skipping the event and jumping your bones.”

You covered your mouth a bit in shock, that you’d actually said that. There was a moment of silence where you were now the one wishing to sink into the floor. Then he came forward till he was almost pressed against you, a smirk on his face. Any trace of unreadable insecurity gone. You were glad, although a little embarrassed.

He moved your hand from your face and tucked a finger underneath your chin tilting your head up. You didn't get a chance to think as he pressed his soft lips against yours in a slow intoxicating kiss that left you fiending for more. Almost as if he sensed your sudden want he pulled away smiling down at you.

“Maybe we should go to the event first. Then we can talk about what happens when we get back home.”

You pouted. “ Fine. But you’re such a tease.”

He chuckled at this and took a step back expectantly. You took a deep breath and put your hands around his lower neck focusing on activating your quirk.

You had the quirk of Matter ideation. When you focused hard enough, you could make your ideas into reality by manipulating the matter that you touch with your hands. You could even make living things if you concentrate hard enough. But the bigger or more complicated a thing was the more energy it took from you and you were often left with a piercing headache that functioned like a hangover that usually kicked in an hour or two after you created something.

You breathed out, moving your hands down his bare and exposed chest. Your eyes were closed as you imagined the final product moving your hands down from his neck all the way down to his toes.

You could feel the matter pushing and blending together and taking on different shapes and colors, and molding around his skin.

When you were finished you opened your eyes and your mouth fell open. It looked better than you expected.

It was a deep and dark green suit that you had created that fit him, wonderfully, perfectly even. You turned to reach into the bathroom cabinet pulling out a hair tie.

Standing on your tiptoes, your faces once again close, you pulled his soft and freshly washed hair back and pinned it up into a half bun. You could feel his eyes on you as you did this meeting his for a moment and smiling.

“There.” You said after a moment, taking a step back to look at him. You put your hand to your chin as if you were thinking and nodded.

“Yeah that's hot.”

Shouta ignored you, turning to face the mirror, but you could see the slight tint of pink on his cheeks.

You watched him look at himself in the large mirror and eyebrow raised.

“What do you think?”

“I like the color.” He said in the most monotone voice possible but you just about rocketed off into space. You leaned up on his shoulder and kissed his cheek before turning back to your makeup mess, trying to locate your eyeliner.

“We have like half an hour left to get ready, so I have to finish doing my makeup. It's a disaster right now.”

-----

Half an hour later, Shouta was sitting in the dining room, looking over student essays when he heard the bathroom door opening upstairs. He keeps grading until he hears the clack of your heels coming down the stairs. Dropping his pencil and standing up he makes his way into the living room where he is stopped in his tracks.

You were coming down the stairs holding the rail with one hand concentrating on walking with your high heel.

Feeling a bit uneasy, he moved close to the stairs and just as he predicted your right foot slipped sending you flying forward. With one easy movement he caught you in his arms, a smile gracing his face when you looked up at him appreciatively.

“You look beautiful.” He said setting you straight and tucking your hair behind your ear.

To make sure you matched, you created yourself a green dress that complimented his suit.

“Thank you.” You said smiling. You were buzzing and ready to go.

“Ready?” He asked taking a deep breath as if he was steeling himself. Social events were never his thing but he went cause he knew you enjoyed them, and to appease his various co-workers.

“Yep” You slid your hand in his and headed towards the door.

------------------ PART TWO ------------------

It was two hours into the party and suddenly you were wishing you had headed your husbands warning. You were at U.A with Aizawa for a teacher’s appreciation event, and after having used your quirk to make you and your husband clothes, you were experiencing the side effects of your quirk.

You gripped the stem of your wine glass a little harder as your head started to throb. You felt like your brain was going to split into two at any second. Your quirk was like a muscle, if you didnt use it for a while, you had to build it back up again. You couldn't remember the last time you’d used your quirk, so making your dress and your husband’s suit was too much for your body at the moment.

The music inside the school gym was blasting and everyone was huddled around talking loud to hear each other. Shouta had gotten pulled away to take teacher photos in the corner of the gym. You could see him now, deadpanning into the camera. It would have brought a smile to your face if you didn't feel like you were about to puke from the pain.

Without taking a glance around you took a large gulp of your wine, finishing it off in a not so classy way. You knew you would pay with another hangover later, but maybe the alcohol would temporarily help you out.

Ten minutes later, and quite a few drinks later, you were sitting with your head down on top of a table, wishing that you could turn back time and stop yourself from making the dress. You still would have looked nice in the dress you had already picked out.

You wanted to go find some of the teachers and chat and have a good time, but you felt like if you opened your mouth, it would be a cry. You weren't sure how long you had been sitting alone, when a hand was placed on your back. You jumped up, feeling your head sloshing a bit as the alcohol you’d ingested started to catch up with you.

It was Shouta, looking down at you concern over his face. He crouched down close to you so that he didn't have to shout so loud.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. You looked at him and realized he still had on fake prop glasses that someone had probably put on him. You smiled and pulled them off his face to plalce them on the table.

“You were right.” You pouted. “ My head is about to split open.” You said. Understanding hit his face, but he made no move to shame you, the concern still there. Damn you loved this man.

“But never fear!” You said and he raised an eyebrow.

“ I downed many a cup of alcohol. And I am already feeling better.” You said grabbing his face and laughing. Maybe you were already a little tipsy. You tended to get giggly when you drink.

He grabbed your hands and brought them back to your lap amused. “ Your headache is just going to be worse later.”

You leaned forward more, a mischievous look clear as day on your face. “ Exactly, later.”

Before he could say anything else you connected your lips, returning the soft but intoxicating kiss he’d given you earlier. You considered it payback. When he pressed back to take over the kiss you pulled away a smirl playing on your lips.

“After the party… remember?” You said.

He cleared his throat returning back to normal public Aizawa within a moment.

“Right.”

You smiled wickedly.

“Right.” You said back. You stood up. “ Let’s go bug Toshi!!” You said in a sing song voice.

---

Aizawa was vaguely aware of the conversation that was happening around him. But his eyes were focused past the the group of teachers he was standing around and onto you. You were dancing with Toshinori chatting away happily. He knew you had a soft spot for the old man and you had rescued him from an awkward conversation asking Toshinonri to dance, leaving Aizawa open to being brought into various conversations that he did not care about.

You looked cute as you chatted with All Might, spinning under his arm as the music changed. His mind wandered onto the kiss you had given him shortly before. He knew you were definitely a little drunk, as you typically did not engage in PDA for his sake. It had caught him off guard, in only the way you could. You smelled heavenly and looked so beautiful with your hair pinned up and your dress.

He couldn't think of anything he’d like more at that moment than seeing your hair wild over the pillows, screaming out his name. It was like he could feel your hands ghosting up chest and digging into his back.

Snapping back into reality, he didn't have to look down to feel how tight his pants had become.

Shit.

“Excuse me.” He said in the middle of someone talking before dipping out of the conversation and cutting across the gym to the dance floor.

Toshinori saw you first, giving him a bright smile as he stopped dancing with you.

---

You looked up at Toshi pouting trying to figure out why you’d stopped . You were having a great time dancing with him. He was surprisingly good at leading, and he was telling you about his golden day stories.

You noticed he was looking at someone behind you so you turned, to see your husband standing there a strange look on his face. Your eyes traveled down and a smirk graced your face.

“Can I cut in?” He asked Toshi who nodded and let go of your hands at once.

“Of course.” he said, either not seeing his coworkers hard-on or doing a great job of pretending not to. “ I think i’m going to help myself to some more juice.” Leaning down he kissed you on the forehead quickly before heading away.

No sooner was Shouta grabbing your hand and almost dragging you in the directions of the parking lot. You felt a wave of wanton lust flow over you as you reached the car.

You slipped into the car barely waiting until the door was closed before you climbed over the passenger seat and into Shouta’s lap.

He gave a surprised grunt as you kissed him deep, your tounges swirling together. You were fumbling with his belt when he grabbed your hands.

“Were in the parking lot Y/N” He said a bit breathily.

You tapped the dark window next to you. “They’re tinted, remember?”

You leaned forward your face and chest leaning over him close. “ You wanna wait?” You asked placing a hand over his clothed cock, gripping it softly.

When he didn’t answer you began to stroke it excruciatingly slow. “ Hm?”

You leaned over and left searing butterfly kisses up his neck, until you reached his ear where you said softly. “ Don’t you wanna fuck me Shouta?”

You were being a big brat. But you didn’t care your brain was clouded in want.

“Fuck Y/N.” He almost growled out gripping your face with both of his hand and bringing you in for another head swirling kiss. You felt his hands skirting up your dress till they found your lacy underwear.

You heard the tear of fabric before you even felt him ripping your underwear, and tossing them into the backseat. With your free hand you pulled his hard cock out of his pants. His hands moved to your waist with a vice like grip lining you up perfectly with him.

You broke your kiss to moan as he finally filled you up with one hard push.

Aizawa head was swirling with thoughts of you. If anything you looked more beautiful on top of him. Your carefully placed hair pins had slipped and your wild curly hair was falling past your shoulders. You were the only person in the world he’d be vulnerable with the only person he’d let touch him. And you felt so good, too good.

He didn't waste any time lifting you up again, chasing that feeling of being completely connected to you.

The way your face shifted into pleasure as he stroked again into you, made him want to cum in your right then in there, but he would pace himself.

After letting you get adjusted the pace he sent was relentless. His thick cock was pounding up into you and you couldn't even think for how good it felt. Neither of you were going to last long like this.

“Oh baby.” You cried out your hands flat on his chest and curling into fist pulling at his clothing. “ Oh baby don’t stop.”

You were on fire in pleasure, the sound of your moans and wetness slamming together filling the car. You head flew back, mouth agape as you began to cum around his throbbing manhood.

“Shouta!” You cried out tightening around him sending him over the edge and gushing into you.

You brought your head down to kiss him again as you both rode out your orgasim. Your thigh spasming softly under his touch.

“Mmm. I love you.” he said between kisses. And you smiled against his lips.

“I love you too Shouta.” You said.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa imagine #aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa x reader smut #mha #mha fanfiction #bhna #mha smut #bnha smut

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years

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unless you take your army back ch. 2

First chapter - Read on AO3!

This chapter is a lot longer than I thought it was that’s my bad

cw: blood, intense depictions of injuries, food, flashbacks

When Crutchie woke, it was with a heaviness in the pit of his stomach. He knew that while he was not waking up from a nightmare, he would be waking into one. Another day either working hard for nothing or locked in a tiny closet, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Something was different, though. For one thing, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. He was on something soft, which couldn’t count as any surface in the Refuge. Not only that, but he didn’t feel squished or anything. There wasn’t anyone else near him, which crossed off the idea that he’d been dragged back to the room full of boys, but there was plenty of room to stretch out, so definitely not in a closet.

Maybe he had died.

As he became more aware of his body, though, he still felt pained--so probably not dead. He used to visit a church when he’d been on the streets by himself, less for concern of his mortal soul and more for the communion wafers and occasional Sunday afternoon luncheons, but he’d listened to what had been taught there. Apparently, if he died and went to Heaven he’d be healed. He had to be going to Heaven, right? He’d been baptized as a baby, after all. He didn’t really believe in it these days, but that didn’t mean he was a bad person.

He would’ve continued wondering about the fate of his soul had he not tried to flex his fingers and found both hands immobile--not because of the pain in them, but because his fingers were all wrapped up. So was his left arm, actually, which was distantly throbbing.

Reluctantly, Crutchie forced his eyes to open, grimacing at how crusty they felt. Light flooded his vision and he closed them almost immediately, then opened them a pinch.

He had no clue where he was. All he could see was a wooden ceiling. How was that supposed to help him?

It smelled sort of familiar, but it was also silent, aside from a bird chirping outside the window--which was right beside him. Actually, as he took a bigger breath (not too big, his chest was all tight and achy), he recognized something small--and then so many things, all in the scent of the air.

This was the lodging house, and with it, the smell of the soap they all used, Race’s cigar, newspapers, coffee, sweat, and that weird cologne that Jack and Romeo sometimes spent a few pennies on. He was home.

Crutchie let out a sigh. He was exhausted. Maybe he could just go back to sleep.

“Crutchie?”

So much for that idea. Crutchie shifted his vision a little, wincing as his neck cramped. Jack was sat there beside him, charcoal pencil frozen where it was poised on a paper. He looked okay, aside from a black eye. He also looked scared, for some reason, almost guilty. What had happened? Why was Crutchie at the lodging house? Why did Jack look like he was hiding something?

Crutchie decided to not bring it up at the moment, but couldn’t stop wondering. He didn’t remember all of what had happened since he’d been awoken the other morning by the Refuge kids with a cup of water, but he had vague recollections of beatings and closets and being trapped under the floor. He could also remember seeing Katherine, but that part might have been a hallucination. More importantly, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here and what had made Snyder let him go. If Jack had traded someone--

“How’re ya feeling?” Jack asked, and Crutchie could hear his words dripping with fatigue. He wondered how long he’d been out, that Jack had been sitting at his side for.

Crutchie opened his mouth, lips cracking, and paused at the pain that came when he tried to make his voice work. Something was up--Synder, chokin’ you, his brain reminded him. Also no water, dummy. They does that to a voice.

As if Jack knew what he was thinking, he shot up, the paper falling and pencil rolling away. “Gotcha some water waitin’,” he said, taking a few steps out of Crutchie’s line of sight and returning with a tin cup and a bowl. “Also had one o’ the fellas grab some soup from the sistas, so you can has somethin’ ta eat.” He frowned down at the bowl. “It ain’t too warm now, but it should still taste all right.”

Crutchie had the feeling that he ought to smile in thanks, but just couldn’t. He couldn’t even fathom lifting his cheeks that much--they felt oddly large and heavy. His head was pretty cloudy, anyway. It probably wouldn’t even be able to send the instructions to his mouth. Jack held the cup to his lips and he drank--the water was a bit warm, but far better than nothing--begrudgingly, wishing he could hold it himself.

As soon as all the water was gone, Jack was digging a spoon out of his pocket, preparing to feed him. If he had the energy, Crutchie would’ve sputtered in indignation. He could feed himself, thank you very much! He hadn’t let no one feed him except his mother, and that was too long ago for him to remember (he casually shoved down the image of Harley feeding him bites of sandwich, back at the Refuge).

“I can feeds myself,” he croaked out, feeling just that small movement of his mouth stretch his cheeks farther than normal. They must’ve been pretty swollen. Some of the anxious creases around Jack's eyes smoothed out.

“I know ya can,” Jack said, relief evident in his voice. “Lemme help ya sit up, then.”

Crutchie wanted to sit up himself, but he conceded this to Jack. He had to pick his battles, especially when he was so tired.

He gasped when Jack buried his arm under his back, the lashes and memories of them barraging him with agony. Jack pulled away as if he was the one who had been whipped, watching him warily. Crutchie scrunched his eyes closed, trying to stop a tear that was threatening to slip out. He wasn’t weak. He had to show Jack that he could do this.

“Want--want me to, uh, pull ya up by the arm?” Jack offered, and Crutchie nodded jerkily. That sounded bearable; his right arm wasn’t hurt all that bad.

As soon as Jack touched him, though, fear stole Crutchie’s breath. Images of thugs gripping his wrist and dragging him along on dirty floors filled his mind, and he cowered, pulling his body as close together as he could.

Someone was speaking, and Crutchie was about to ignore it until he realized the price he might pay for not following orders. His eyes shot open, his heart racing with a frenzy that seemed to pound on his broken ribs.

“--okay? Kath said your ribs got beat pretty bad, an’ it might be hard for you ta sit up. You good, Crutch?”

That was Jack. That was Jack speaking, and he wasn’t in the Refuge, he was at the lodging house. He just sat up to eat some soup. He was safe.

No matter how many times Crutchie repeated those words to himself, he couldn’t let go of the dark halls of the Refuge, the stink of the guards’ cigars, the pain that was coming at any moment.

“I’s fine,” he gritted out, forcing himself to meet Jack’s eyes. “Jus’, yeah, little bit o’ pain.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so just let it hang in the air between them.

Eventually, Jack helped him form his right hand around the bowl as steady as possible, then stabilized it as he brought it to his lips and drank. It bumped against his cheeks uncomfortably. It was little more than broth, and lukewarm, but Crutchie was grateful for it all the same. The taste of it alone nearly made him sob--the flavor was just so much--but he held it in.

Jack made him drink over half of the bowl before letting him lay back down, which was a much quicker operation than sitting up had been. When he was settled back in the bed, full to bursting and a little more clear on what was happening, he finally asked one of the questions that had been on his mind since he woke.

“Jack? What happened?”

Jack shifted from foot to foot. “With what?”

Crutchie sighed, pulling down his shirt a little to see what was under it. A lot of bandages and some bruises was the answer. “The strike, I s’pose.”

“Right, the strike.” Jack sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “Uh, well, we won.”

Crutchie’s heart leaped. They won? Against Pulitzer, and Wiesel, and the Delanceys, and Snyder, and all the police officers? Once again, he felt that he should smile, but just couldn’t find the energy. “Wow,” he said instead, swallowing around the pain in his throat. They had won. “How’d you get me out?”

There wasn’t an answer from Jack for a long time, and after a moment Crutchie looked over at him. He was looking down, cap in his hands, twisting it around anxiously.

“Governor Roosevelt,” he said, not looking up. His voice was unreadable. “Kath got him ta shut down the Refuge, for good. Ain’t nobody goin’ back there.”

Wow. They really won. How had that even happened? Crutchie couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that there would be no more Snyder chasing kids on the street. There had to be someone, right? Someone else who wanted to hurt kids for the fun of it?

“Y-you awake, buddy?”

Crutchie blinked, realizing his eyes had closed. “Yeah,” he whispered. Jack was watching him again, his eyes red. “Jus’ . . . jus’ tired.” And he was. He felt like if he didn’t sleep soon, he might just fade away. Even now, he wouldn’t be surprised if he slept for a week straight. He was so tired.

“Sleep, nitwit. Ya gots the time.”

Crutchie gladly accepted the invitation.

“Shh! Ya don’t want ‘im wakin’ up, do ya?”

“A little bit, yeah!”

“We wants to see ‘im!”

Crutchie groaned. The voices quieted down for a second with a few hushed gasps and shushes, then started up again when he made no effort to move. This bed was almost unbearably comfortable.

“C’mon, Jack! He’s practic’ly a’ready awake.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t. He’s restin’, he don’t need you lot tirin’ him out.”

“It’s our room too.”

“Yeah! You has to let us in, who put you in charge?”

“. . . You’s all did, Romeo.”

Crutchie snorted through his nose, then opened his eyes. He still felt bone tired, but a little like he could function. He turned his head, slowly this time, to see Jack a few feet away, holding back a good dozen newsies. Once they saw him moving, their faces lit up excitedly. Elmer pointed, hopping a little bit, and Jack looked over his shoulder to meet Crutchie’s eyes.

Immediately, he dropped his defenses and rushed to Crutchie’s side. He produced a tin cup from nowhere--and a different one from earlier?--and pushed it to his lips. “Hey, Crutch. How ya feelin’?”

Crutchie sipped and rolled his eyes, coughing a little when that sent a headache pounding. “Bit better,” he managed through his swollen jaw, pulling away from the drink. “Why’s my arm not workin’?”

Jack’s face flashed guiltily. “‘S broken,” he said, brushing hair out of Crutchie’s face. “Katherine said you’ll be wrapped up in it about three weeks, maybe more.”

Crutchie frowned. How was he supposed to sell? His right arm needed to hold his crutch, so what was supposed to be waving around the papers? His thoughts were interrupted by Jack making him drink some more water.

“I gots more food here, for ya,” Jack began. “Don’t want ya goin’ hungry. And then--”

“Jack?”

Jack went silent instantly, looking so intensely at Crutchie that he started to wonder if Jack thought he was dying. Maybe he was dying. He certainly felt like it. He shook himself. “Can I see the fellas?”

Jack turned around. The newsies, still standing in the middle of the room, waved.

“Yeah, why not,” he said, pulling his hat off and running a hand through his hair. “One at a time, though,” he added when they all began to rush forward. “You’s gonna give him a heart attack, all o’ you’s at once.”, during which Crutchie propped himself up into almost a sitting position. His bad leg was almost completely deadweight, and it hurt like he’d stuck it in a bonfire. Still, he dragged it up a little bit, trying to make room for another boy to sit on the bed. Breathing sitting up made his chest burn and back smart, but he could deal with it for right now. He just wanted to see his friends.

Specs sat down first, smiling in that gentle way of his. “Hey, Crutch,” he said. “Lookin’ a bit worse than last time I seen ya, huh? Feelin’ any better?”

“Jus’ a bit, and okay, I guess,” Crutchie admitted, once again finding smiling to be too much effort. “Jack says we won, I think. How’s it feel?”

Specs sighed happily. “Feels free. Can’t wait to get ya outta bed and into the streets, see how ‘cited the boys are ‘bout sellin’.”

“Me neither,” Crutchie said. Specs nodded, then patted him awkwardly on the knee before standing up. He was almost immediately replaced by Race and Albert, Race falling onto the bed with flourish, Albert standing beside it with his thumbs in his suspenders.

“Feelin’ any better, Crutchie?” Albert asked. Crutchie waved his arm.

“Loads,” he said, trying to not make any sounds as Race jostled him. “Bet I’ll be up sellin’ papes with you’s in no time.”

Albert guffawed; Race smiled a little piteously. “Glad to see that Crutchie spirit,” Race said, poking him in the side. Crutchie couldn’t help a gasp, bit his tongue too late to hide it. The smile completely dropped from both of their faces.

“Hey, uh,” Albert said, quieter than usual, “Race an’ I--we’s been there. Well, not there ‘xactly, but . . . that place. So we knows it’s hard to get better, an’ it takes time.”

They really didn’t know, Crutchie thought to himself as they stepped away. They didn’t have a public connection to Jack Kelly when they were in there, nor did they have a crippled leg. He was sure it was rough for them, but their experiences were not the same, and he didn’t much appreciate them comparing the two.

“Hey Crutchie! Feelin’ any better?” Elmer.

“I’d feel better if people would stop askin’ me that,” Crutchie grumbled. Elmer laughed, his eyes lighting up.

“Les an’ Davey an’ me made you this,” he said, holding something out. He dropped it in Crutchie’s lap, who stiffly picked it up with bandaged fingers and examined it closely. It was a loop of yarns, braided together in blue, green, and brown to make a bracelet.

“You don’t gotta put it on your wrist now,” Elmer said, obviously proud. “But we all made it! You can sees where I started braidin’ after Les, ‘cuz it gets better there.”

Crutchie felt tears pricking at his eyes as he looked, and yep--there was a section where it went from messy to a little less so. “Thanks, Elmer. I’m . . . I’m touched.” he glanced up into his face, seeing it split into a huge smile. “You wanna put it on my wrist? My fingers ain’t workin’ so well.”

Elmer did so with care, not even hopping back when Crutchie flinched at the touch. Then he gave a little bow and a wave, and darted off.

Next up were Romeo and Henry, who awkwardly told him about their day and asked about his. Seeing as how Crutchie had been unconscious for the majority of the day, there wasn’t much conversation to be made on his end. It was nice to hear about what they’d been doing, though. Crutchie could usually see Romeo from his selling spot, and they sometimes sold together.

“Some o’ the regulars is askin’ after you,” Romeo told him with a pat on the shoulder. Crutchie didn’t have the energy to hide his wince. “Told ‘em they oughtta be proud o’ you, you took on the Delanceys and won!”

Crutchie choked. “I ain’t done anything of the sort!” he sputtered. Romeo chuckled.

“I’m a newsie, what can I say?” he shrugged and patted his shoulder again, then wandered off with a bit of a dazed look on his face. Henry gave him a quick goodbye and followed.

Tommy Boy was just saying hello when Jack began to usher them out, saying something about how they needed to go run off their energy somewhere not here. For once, Crutchie was grateful for Jack’s motherhenning. He felt like he was going to shake right out of his body. The newsies were a tactile bunch, and normally Crutchie had no problem with that, but today it made his skin crawl and his brain go bleary. He’d also never been troubled by crowds of any size, but the room was beginning to feel unbearably full and loud.

When he looked up again, everyone but Jack was gone--and Katherine? When had she come in?

Not another person, Crutchie thought, then immediately felt bad. Jack had mentioned her a few times, and he inferred that she was sort of the person who got him out. He could have the civility to talk to her.

“Crutchie, how are you feeling?” Katherine asked, hurrying over. Crutchie bit his tongue to keep from responding rudely.

Katherine looked him over, the smile in her words slowly fading as she took him in. Finally, she met his eyes, and nodded. “Jack was right, you’re looking a lot better than yesterday.”

“Thanks, I think?” Crutchie said, something catching in his sore throat and causing him to cough violently. His chest seized up, his body wracked with agony at the pain that came from the shuddering coughs. When he recovered enough to open his eyes, Jack was holding the cup of water right under his nose.

“Don’ be gettin’ sick on me, Crutchie,” Jack said, sounding more worried than teasing. Crutchie swallowed down the last of the water and coughed one more time.

“I’s gettin’ sick just ta spite you, now,” Crutchie said weakly. Katherine and Jack both laughed, a little wildly, a little wrong. That bothered him, in ways that he couldn’t quite put together. Why didn’t they sound normal?

Something in the smell of the room was starting to make him feel sick. Had he eaten anything since the scraps that one morning? He had, hadn’t he? Jack had given him something earlier. Well, at least he knew there was something in his stomach to be tossed up if it came to that. That had to be easier on his throat than dry heaves.

“Crutchie, you heard that the Refuge has been shut down for good, haven’t you?” asked Katherine, trying to find somewhere to pat him kindly. She settled on the edge of the mattress.

Wait, what?

The Refuge? Shut down--for good? That wasn’t possible, was it? Snyder had a perfect reputation with the city. They’d never shut down a place that worked so well because a few teenage boys told them to.

“It what?” he said out loud, looking between Jack and Katherine, hoping to see some sign of humor. They had to be pulling his leg. Katherine only nodded, though, and Jack gave him a concerned glance.

“I told ya that already,” Jack said. “Remember? This mornin’?”

Crutchie thought back. Maybe? He remembered pieces of their conversation, but it was pretty blurry. He also remembered seeing a lizard crawl up the windowpane. He’d assumed it was a dream, but maybe it had actually happened. That was pretty cool.

“Anyway, I showed Governor Roosevelt some of Jack’s drawings,” Katherine pushed on. “He investigated it immediately, and went personally to shut it down and arrest that awful man!”

“The governor,” Crutchie repeated, dumbfounded. Jack had ridden in the back of his carriage once. Had he met the governor and not even been conscious?

Now that he thought about it, though, he had vague flashes . . . a man with a mustache saying something to someone out of sight . . . the same man holding water for him to drink . . . had he met the governor and let the man baby him?

“The doctor said he doesn’t know what your recovery will look like, but he thinks you’ll make a full one if nothing gets infected,” Katherine told him, and Crutchie was torn from his mortification to incredulation.

“A doctor?” He couldn’t afford a doctor! He didn’t even have enough money saved to miss more than a few days of work, how would he--

“Don’t worry,” Katherine said, waving him off with a little laugh, “Governor Roosevelt handled the cost. You were concerned about it when it happened, too.”

Crutchie made himself relax a little bit. He couldn’t turn down a free handout in his condition, especially not from the governor. The governor.

“And, speaking of. . . .” Katherine trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Jack took her hand and gave her a strained smile. Crutchie looked at the two of them. Were they together?! Why had no one told him?

“I sort of need to change your bandages,” Katherine said apologetically. Crutchie blanched, and she hurried to add, “It’ll be quick! Just clean wrappings--” she waved a bag-- “and some soap and water, then you can rest.”

Yeah, sure, but there was a huge problem. Katherine was a girl. It wasn’t that she was weak for being a girl or anything, but Crutchie really didn’t want to subject a lady to the mess that was his body right now. Or anyone, for that matter. In fact, if they could both just leave the room and give him the bandages and stinging stuff, he’d get it done himself.

When he tried to tell Katherine just that, she snorted. “Crutchie, no offense, but I don’t think you could beat a toddler with pneumonia in a fight right now. There’s no way you could do this yourself, or any way you could stop me or one of the others doing it for you.”

Crutchie’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t stop them. She was right. They could do anything they wanted to him, and he was powerless to do anything. They wouldn’t even need to hold him down.

Crutchie only nodded when she asked him if she could change his bandages, his throat completely dry. Jack watched him for a moment, and Crutchie tried to not look back. He didn’t want Jack to see how petrified he was. After a moment, Jack made up some nonsense excuse about checking on the other boys and left.

Left to get them, probably. Or maybe something to hit him with. Or both. After all, he was a pretty easy target right about now, who wouldn’t want a go? He could barely move, let alone fight back. Crutchie’s stomach turned as an image of Race taking bets on how long he’d be conscious forced itself into his head.

“Can you sit up all the way, Crutchie?” Katherine asked, and he cringed. They were going to make him sit up? Were they going to make him move from this bed, too? It was Jack’s, he’d realized earlier. Jack probably wanted it back.

He pushed himself up, slowly, agonizingly. His head pounded and his back throbbed and his stomach wouldn’t stop sloshing around the water in it, but he sat up anyway, slowly adjusting so that his legs hung off the bed. By the time he was fully sitting up (hunching over like he wanted to made it harder to breathe) Crutchie had broken a light sweat, his hair sticking a little to the back of his neck. Katherine wouldn’t hurt him, right? She was a girl, and she was upper-class. They made other people do that for them.

“I’m going to start with this cut on your cheek, okay? It looks like it’s fine, I just want to make sure it’s clean.”

Crutchie braced himself, closing his eyes. He just wanted to sleep for a little bit longer. Couldn’t it go back to Jack softly giving him water and drawing while he dozed? That was nice. That was safe. Couldn’t they do that for just a little bit longer before they got to all the bad stuff?

Katherine’s touch on his face made him flinch back, but that was all it was. A touch. A piece of wet cloth, rubbed on his cheek. It wasn’t too bad, so far. It was almost a little nice.

“Your forehead’s pretty warm,” he heard her say, distantly. He didn’t respond. It was taking all his effort to stay still and upright.

Crutchie tried to retreat to the back of his mind as he felt Katherine undoing the buttons on his shirt, but he couldn’t get out of here. He was straining his ears to hear something, anything--the boys bounding upstairs, or cheering, or something like that that would give him time to prepare for what was to come.

He was broken out of it, though, when his already aching chest burst into flames. He cried out, opened his eyes--Katherine was holding a red-stained cloth, looking apologetic.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, “but one of your cuts is infected. It’s going to hurt a bit. Do you think you can focus on me?”

Crutchie would’ve laughed if he wasn’t busy taking as shallow breaths as possible. He could barely focus on anything. He looked down to see the patchwork of bruises and scrapes that was his chest, and saw that yes, the largest one looked irritated and weepy. That one had been giving him trouble from the first day.

Something touched his hand and he started, then stared down at it. Katherine was holding his hand. Why?

“We can wait until you’re ready,” she said, and Crutchie wasn’t sure that he would ever be ready, but nodded as a go-ahead.

He watched now as Katherine gently and carefully cleaned each wound, calming more with each reassuring squeeze of her hand when the liquid stung. Something about her hand in his was comforting, almost grounding. It was as if his perception had been blurred with panic, and her hand cleared the mist enough that he could ground himself against the contact and the quiet openness of the room. He was alive.

Instead of making him move, Katherine climbed over the bed in a very unladylike manner and dressed the marks on his back. This was worse. With no one to hold onto and no way to see what was happening, Crutchie dug the sore fingers of his right hand into his left upper arm. It gave him a sensation to focus on that wasn’t the painful touches on his back, something that he could control. That helped, a little bit. What didn’t help was the fact that Crutchie couldn’t stop staring at the door, waiting for it to burst open at any minute.

Katherine wrapped his torso and helped him get his shirt back on before moving down to his legs, which made Crutchie even more uncomfortable. He tried to shift away, even told her he could do this part, despite knowing full well that he was about two minutes from passing out. She was a lady, it was improper.

Katherine was sympathetic. “I can go get Jack,” she offered. “Or one of the other boys, if you’re more comfortable with that.”

No. No no no no no no no. Couldn’t they do this for a little while longer first? Just Katherine holding his hand and cleaning his chest. She seemed to see his panic, because she immediately softened.

“How about this,” she said. “I’ll only do from the knees down, and then I’ll turn around while you clean the rest, okay?” Crutchie nodded. That sounded okay. Embarrassing, of course, but so much better than the alternative.

Katherine pulled one of the blankets from where it was tucked in and draped it over his legs. With her steadying him, Crutchie managed to get his pants down to his ankles, then let her take over, his face burning. She was a girl, after all. It felt so wrong, to let her clean his legs.

She made quick work of it though, and handed Crutchie the brown bottle of what seemed to be soapy water and the cloth before turning around. He watched her for a moment, making sure she wasn’t going to peek, then quickly yet haltingly rubbed the cloth along his thighs. There luckily was nothing more than bruises and a single cut there, and he was done in a few minutes. By that point, he could barely hold his head up. Instead of pulling his pants back on, he just fell back against the bed, groaning.

Katherine tucked him back in, resting a hand on his forehead again. “Do you think you have a fever?”

That would make a bit of sense, wouldn’t it? It was the middle of summer, it had to be sweltering out, and here he was under three blankets with the window closed. He was sure he had other symptoms too, but he didn’t really remember, so he just shrugged and closed his eyes.

Katherine sighed, rubbing his fingers. “Crutchie, I need you to stay awake for a few minutes. Jack’s bringing you something to eat.”

Crutchie forced his eyes back open. He didn’t want to be awake. He’d been tired this whole time and now his body felt like it was going to fall apart. As if summoned, though, the door at the other end of the room creaked open, and in came Jack, holding a bowl in one hand and some bread in the other.

“I sent Sniper down ta Jacobi’s,” he said by way of introduction. Crutchie tried to move his arms, but they felt weighed down. He didn’t really want to eat, he wanted to sleep. He really wanted to sleep, actually, so badly that he felt his eyes begin to burn with tears. Why weren’t they letting him sleep?

There was bread in front of him and Crutchie stared at it uncomprehendingly. What was he supposed to do with that? He couldn’t take it, his arms weren’t moving.

He blinked and it had been replaced by a bowl of something, which gradually came closer as he watched. Someone wormed a hand underneath his neck to prop his head up, making him shiver and twitch. He didn’t like that at all, but there was nothing he could do. Maybe now they were going to beat him. At least he’d probably be too out of it to notice.

The bowl pressed against his lips and Crutchie opened his mouth, choking as some of its liquid slipped down his throat. That was far more warm than he’d been expecting, not quite searing his tongue, but coming close to it. It drew back again, then more spilled into his mouth. This time, Crutchie drank, paying no mind to the flavor or temperature. He just hoped they would let him sleep after this.

Sure enough, with a few last drops of broth, the bowl was empty and the hand under his neck pulled away, leaving Crutchie to fall back against the pillow. Before his eyes were even closed, he was pulled into darkness.

15 notes · View notes

honeygingergemini · 4 years

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Henlo! Can I request Steve 'punishing' you by giving you a nice spanking? If you don't do smut then can I get a cute first date? Thank you🙏🙏

Okay hi :)))))) i didn’t expect to get a request at all so i was super excited and nervous. I hope you enjoy it! I’m sorry it took so long I was trying to figure out what you’d be punish for and little things like that. Steve is kinda dark and monotoned with minimal lines in this but that’s how imagine him giving a punishment. it’s my second attempt at smut so all feedback is welcomed!!! Im really bad at beginnings and endings so bare with me Also PLEASE excuse my english it’s not my first language so yeah here it is again i hope you like it. :)))

Warnings: Spanking and Mentions of sweat

Word count: 1.9k

I Didn’t Mean It.

You feel a drop of liquid leave your nose and touch your thigh. Unsure if it’s your tears or your sweat but you don’t move. Only one thing runs through your mind as you wait for Steve.

You didn’t mean it.

You had been kneeling on the floor of your shared bedroom for hours now. At first it was easy. You would count the minutes but as the uneasy feeling in your stomach started to spread to other parts of your body, and the temperature of the room created a dampness across your body, your mind was fuzzy and you could only think of Steve. Wherever he is, he must be so mad.

You hadn’t meant it. You’re usually so good. you follow his rules, before you do anything his stern face would pop up in your mind deterring you from doing something you’d regret, you're unsure why today felt different. As if your body is thinking the same thing a shudder runs through you. A determined line of sweat leaves the nape of your neck and travels the arch of your back.

Where is he?

You couldn’t take the torture. You knew this wasn’t your punishment. At least not all of it. Steve runs a tight ship, he has no tolerance for bullshit. You knew this and yet you still decided to disobey him. It hadn’t been on purpose. For whatever reason Steve had decided to change your normal routine and without question you agreed. You had almost lost yourself on the train when you realized you didn’t break one rule you had broken three. You were on your way rushing home but it was too late. You had already been caught. The phone ringing in your hand almost seemed like a death sentence. You knew better than to let him wait any longer.

“H-Hello Captain.” you stuttered awaiting his voice.

“What did I tell you?” Was all he said and you instantly felt fear.

“I’m sorry I lost track of-”

“I didn’t ask you that.” you heard slight shuffling in the background. “What did I tell you?”

“Don’t break any rules ever. There will never be an exception for making Captain mad.” You whisper in a hushed tone.

“Find your ass home. Now.” He hung up before you could even reply. You were already on the train back to your place but you couldn’t contain yourself. You started crying. Steve was a hard ass but with reason. A lot has changed in his world and he needed stability. He needed control and you were that for him. You tried so hard to stay in place, rarely ever slipping up this big. By the time you got home, the apartment was freezing. The clock read 9:15 and you already knew what to do. Though punishments with you were rare, they were extremely memorable. Imprinted so deep in your mind that whenever you wanted to step out of line you didn’t.

You follow the preset routine for punishments as if he’s right behind you. Sometimes you almost feel like he’s lurking behind the corner, watching you. He hadn’t explicitly said you would be punished, but with the tone in his voice you didn’t want to take any more chances. You make your way to your room hissing at the frigid feeling. You made sure the room was clean before removing all of your clothes and putting them away neatly. He was a stickler for tidiness.

You take your place at the foot of the king sized bed and kneel. Your knees burned from the texture of the rug beneath you. You hadn’t realized it at first, but he was controlling the temperature. The once frosty room has now resembled a sauna. You were on alert, hyper aware of everything since your phone call with Steve, and you were starting to resent yourself.

How could you be so stupid. He only gives you simple rules to follow and you can’t even do-

Your thoughts are interrupted by the familiar sound of your door alarm. He’s home. The floors begin to moan underneath his bulky body. He’s moving around the apartment but he isn’t talking. Your body is vibrating, awaiting what will happen next. The sound of your chamber door opens and Steve stalks through. He doesn’t even spare you a glance. Not that you expect him too.

He moves around the room removing his day and getting into the shower all while not acknowledging your presence at all. The shower water stops and so does your heart. He comes out of the bathroom dressed and sits in the large arm chair in the corner of the room. Your eyes are casted downward but you can feel his eyes boring into your naked body. He sits there unwavering for what seems like hours. Each minute under his scrutiny feels like an eternity.

“Stand up.” you follow his command quickly standing on shaky legs.

“Come to me.” You wobble over to Steve stopping right before him still not looking him in the eyes. You inhale sharply when you feel his finger trace the invisible passageway from your clavicle down your sternum before finally resting at your navel. Your shutter as he circles it.

“Look at me.” For the first time tonight you look at Steve’s face and your heart drops. Disappointment.

You want to speak so badly. Plead your case but you know that will only anger him farther. So you search his eyes hoping to show how remorseful you feel for letting him down. You hoped your eyes delivered the message your words could not.

I didn’t mean it.

“On the bed.” His clipped words increase your heart rate. As you make your way over to the bed he follows you. “Kneel.” You kneel on the edge of the bed and await him. Cool metal comes in contact with your wrist causing you to turn your head. A swift pop is given to the side of your face leaves you trembling.

“Eyes forward.” Not wanting to add to your existing punishment you follow instructions. The light clicks of handcuffs follow his words and your heart drops.

“I’m very surprised at your behavior today doll.” he rubs down your liquid covered arms. “You’re usually so good to me.”

I am good for you. I’m so sorry.

“Bend over baby.” You shutter. His kind words service to deceive you of what is actually to come. Your position is compromising, your hands are locked behind your back. Your face is to the plush mattress and your bum is high and mighty.

“Thirty hits. No noise. If I hear a peep out of you, I’m starting over. Okay?” You nod with understanding. Steve pulls the large leather covered paddle from the drawer. Small round metal studs cover the paddle specially made for pain. He waves the paddle around rotating his wrist to adjust his body to the extending member. “Ready?”

I’m so sorry.

The first round of hits take a lot out of you. You know he wasn’t hitting you hard but . He raises the paddle high in the air and brings it down quickly leaving you winded. You press your lips together firmly willing all sounds to remain inside in your chest. You had lost track of the number of hits around 13. Your mind was in a deep concentration only remembering one thing.

I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.

“Five more…” He pokes at the raw skin of your back side. You so badly wanted to hiss at the pain but instead you bite on your tongue to distract yourself. You don’t want him to start over. “Is there anything you want to say to me.”

“I’m so sorry-” you rushed words were interrupted by the paddle running into you backside at pressure harder than the rest. That still doesn’t deter you from apologizing. “Captain, I’m sorry…” smack. “I didn’t mean too- ugh” another smack. “I’m still not used to the-” smack. That last smack took a lot after and your voice cracks as your pleas spill past your lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” your words were breathless.

“Shhh… baby I know, I know. You did so good” He peppers soft kisses to your back even though it’s covered in sweat.

“I’m so sorry Captain, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, I know.” He reassures you understanding your dazed state “Let's get you in a bath, okay baby?” He uncuffs you and carries you to the bathroom. The usually cold surface of the sink is surprisingly warm serving as aid to your tender skin. You watch as Steve silently moves around the bathroom preparing you a warm bath. He’s like this after any session between the both of you, but he’s especially sweet after a punishment. You weren’t sure when Steve made his way over to the sink’s counter, but you weren’t complaining. His callused hands lightly trace your skin as his lips press soft but firm kisses into your face.

“How do you feel?” He always asked. Always. You think about your answer unsure if you can answer honestly. “Answer as you feel.”

“I…” take a deep breath. “I forgot about the change, that’s no excuse, but that’s what happened. I’m sorry I didn’t check in with you, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you came home.”

“But how do you feel?” he brushes your soft curls away from your forehead. His lips meet your forehead and you sigh.

“Sore and guilty.” As you’re speaking he’s lowering the both of you into a warm water. Your muscles release the tension they’ve been holding on to and you allow yourself to melt into the body surrounding you. Your arms wrap loosely around his torso as he slowly rubs your tender bottom. Soon your legs follow suit and mimic your arms. Soft kisses on your body soon morphe into desperate mouth kisses. Your lower body moves at its own accord grinding on top of Steve's cock and a moan passed through you to him.

“Please Sir.” you sigh hoping your punishment is over. it is. Steve aligns himself with you and pushes into you slowly. He’s mindful of your current state, giving light open mouth kisses to your body and you feel hot. His hips roll into your velvet opening as you cry out.

“mmhhmmm” You moan wishing the profanity running through you mind could be said instead.

“Let go whenever you want to angel, you earned it.” With that he leans back and allows you to work for your reward. Your body jerks giving hints to your upcoming orgasm. His finger plays with your special button that leaves you seeing white. A soft sob leaves your lips and your body turns to mush against his broad chest.

Steve takes a hold of you, pistoning his hips upward. Water spills over the rim of the tub, but Steve doesn’t seem to care. His only concern is chasing his nut. His hips falter as his orgasm over takes him and he’s a sight to see. His golden hair is damp with mist. His head was tilted up to the heavens. His eyes were shut softly with his lashes fanning his cheeks almost as if he were sleeping. His mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ as he shoots his load into you. The hands on your waist hold you tight making sure you feel him deep. And you did. You feel him deep and love him deeper.

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superspookywombat · 4 years

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falling {j.h} chapter six

Warnings: blood, everyone still acting weird, not my best writing

A/N: hey, just wanted to say before you start reading that I know this chapter is kinda meh, I wrote and rewrote this many times and it just feels off. I’d appreciate any constructive criticism :) also, I hope I got the taglist right this time oops

Taglist: Sleepy-whore geekysimmerthings mauvette268 treestarrrrrrrr kaleigh404 krazykatkay456 meganlikesfandoms darknacademia hi-my-name-is-riley vdtwsupernatural selmeuuh raindancer2004 wondersandtempests royale-trash-slytherin im-hella-bright bootylimpics livfg It-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes peacemusicinch coffeeslut16 bvbwestfall Actuallyedythecullen stan-joonies Peacebuglove Millie-753 Frozenhuntress67 i-tried21 seaevans femflorals arseofrivia trashysara vulgarfuckinvirgo sleepysnapesnake hey-bulldogs mental-breaker-74 pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

“Y’all go on ahead, I’ll take her home.” Jasper says. Bella looks at Edward who’s looking at Jasper. Edward takes Jasper’s arm and pulls him into the house. Bella looks at you.

“Why are you guys acting so weird.” You ask. Bella stays quiet, probably thinking of a response. You raise your eyebrows.

“We aren’t acting weird. If anyone’s acting weird, you’re acting weird. I’m not acting weird. What does that word even mean? Weird. It’s kind of a relative term if you think about it-” Bella rambles.

“Bella.” You interrupt. She sighs. The sound of the garage door opening stops any future words before they escape your lips. A sleek sports car backs out, and the windows are so tinted, you can’t see who’s driving. Edward walks out after the car, a disbelieving laugh falling from his mouth. The car stops by you and Bella, and Jasper exits the driver's seat. He stalks over to the passenger seat and opens the door. You give Bella an expectant look, but Edward murmurs something into her ear.

“Well have fun, you kids don’t stay out too late.” She gives you a wink. Your eyebrows knit together.

“Wha-” You start. She waves you off and her and Edward get into his Volvo. You look at Jasper, who’s now back in the driver seat. You look at him, then back at your sister who just abandoned you.

“Guess you’re stuck with me.” Jasper jokes. Your stomach does flips. You’ve never been alone with a boy like this, a very, very attractive boy.

“Heh.” You force a laugh. “Do you, uh, do you know where to go?”

It was hard to ignore the quiver in your voice, or the tapping of your leg. He nods, then puts the car in reverse. An overwhelming sense of calmness fills the car, and you find your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. You turn to glance at Jasper, only to find him already looking at you.

“Eyes on the road, cowboy.” You tease. Scenery rushes past until you pull onto a familiar road. A tickling sensation in your nose makes you jolt back to awareness. A sneeze manifests in your chest, and Jasper watches you, amused. Tightness fills your throat until- “Achoo!”

A violent sneeze rips through you, but as much as it hurts, it also feels really good. That is, until you feel a tear. Jasper pulls into the driveway as you reach your hand up to touch your forehead. Sure enough, you pull your hand back to find streaks of red running down your fingers. You look at Jasper, remembering how he doesn’t like blood. You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, only to be stopped by an ice cold hand. You shiver, but you’re more worried about the blood you just smeared on his skin.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, you can come inside and wash your hands.” You offer, feeling guilty. The air around you feels tense, unnerving. Jasper retracts his reach, both hands forming tight fists on his lap. You look up at his face, only to see that his lips are pulled to a thin line and his pupils are three times the normal size. Uh oh. He looks as if he’s not breathing, his face illuminated by the moon, making him seem like he’s frozen in a painting. You don’t dare breathe, trying to make yourself invisible. He closes his eyes, then after a moment, reopens them and shuts off the car engine. You nervously swallow, watching his jaw tense out of the corner of your eye. He then calmly opens his eyes, and plasters a reassuring smile onto his face. He opens his door and steps out, and before you can reach to open yours, he’s already opened it for you. You unbuckle your seatbelt for real, now, and step out into the chilled spring air. You shiver, but a split second later, a jacket is draped over your shoulders. You look up to see Jasper staring down at you, so you give him a thankful smile and open the front door.

“Bella?” You call out. As you walk over the threshold, you feel Jasper’s presence right behind you. You glance over your shoulder. “The kitchen’s in there.”

“Thank you.” He nods, walking past you. Bella walks down the steps and her jaw drops at the sight of your wound.

“Wha- How-” She stutters, then swallows visibly and shouts over her shoulder, “Edward!” Edward comes racing down the stairs, then after taking one look at you, races into the kitchen. You walk past Bella to go to the bathroom on the second floor.

“Are you gonna help me clean this up or are you just gonna stand there and gawk?” You say. She sighs and reaches for a damp washcloth, gently pushing you to sit on the edge of the bathtub and wiping the blood off of your skin. “Is Jasper okay?”

“He’s fine, just isn’t a big fan of blood.” Bella answers. She presses down harder to scrub off some of the dried blood.

“So he’s like- Ow- like you.” You tease, wincing. She furrows her eyebrows and bites her lip.

“Yeah. Like me.” She says, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. She rinses out the washcloth and hangs it over the faucet.

“Where’s Charlie?” You ask, walking into your room. Bella walks in as you pull your bloody shirt over your head. She walks carefully to avoid the glass pieces on the floor.

“He’s down at the station, practically calling for someone’s head on a pike.” Bella nervously chuckles. You nod, pulling a pj shirt over your head carefully. You pull down your pants and replace them with soft sweatpants. Pulling your hair up, you follow Bella back downstairs where both boys are sitting at the table.

“Oh, you’re still here.” You say, surprise tainting your voice. Bella elbows your side, and a small ‘uhn’ escapes your lips. “I mean, I’m glad you are, I just figured you guys had to get home or.. Something.” You look at Bella, silently begging her to stop your foot from going into your mouth any further.

“Charlie’s gonna be gone for awhile. You guys are welcome to stay.” She invites. Not what I meant, Bella.

“I can put in a frozen pizza or something.” You offer.

“We already ate, but thank you.” Jasper declines politely. Bella stares at you expectantly. You look at Edward and it clicks. Oh.

“Um, well, I think there’s a new episode of Criminal Minds on tonight, if you’d like to join me?” You ask Jasper. Edward looks at you, then Jasper.

“He’d love to.” Edward answers. Bella grabs his hand and pulls him up the stairs, the door slamming shut behind them. Your heart races as Jasper stands and follows you to the couch. You turn on the tv, but you can barely pay attention due to the marble carved statue lounging next to you.

“How are you feeling?” Jasper asks. You keep your eyes glued to the tv as you answer, wiping your palms on your sweats. “A little tired, to be honest.” You answer. He looks at you, concerned. “I’m fine, really. Doctor Cullen said I might feel dizzy or tired, I hit my head pretty hard.”

“I can go- so you can rest- if you’d like.” He offers. You think back to the night’s events, and the heart-dropping feeling you felt when you saw that person in your room returns.

“No!” You gasp. You screw your eyes closed. “Sorry. I mean, you don’t have to leave. I.. please don’t.”

His cold hands make you shiver as they engulf yours. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” You nod, and settle back into the couch. Your body is inches from Jasper’s, and your hand still clenches his tightly. He doesn’t flinch. A sleepy feeling oozes over you, and your eyes get harder to keep open. You don’t realize that you’re falling asleep until your head hits something cold and hard, yet comfortable at the same time. An arm wraps around you and pulls you closer, stroking your hair as you lose consciousness.

#jasper hale #jasperhale #jasper hale x reader #twilight x reader #twilight #fanfiction #fanfic #charlie swan #chapter 6 #bellaswan #Bella Swan #edward cullen #edwardcullen #yikes

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fandomsonrequests · 4 years

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𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 5]

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: prince! park seonghwa

reader: fem! knight

word count: 2.2k+

summary: It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one

a/n: part 5 here we go! i’m sorry if its taking too long, school started so i dont have much time to write as often ;^; this is kind of unedited (im using grammarly sue me sujsk) so im sorry for any errors!

taglist: @iwanttohitmyself @barcelona-sergei @minihongjoong @i-purrple-u

↞previous ♛ next↠

The Capitol was certainly different from the quaint town of Trelark.

The Capitol was… colorful to put it simply. Several people milled about the streets, bustling around and going about their daily lives. What the city folk wore was flashier and livelier than the dull brown or grey tones of the clothes the townsfolk wore. It sparked some sort of insecurity within you, making you clutch at the fabric of your pants as you look out the carriage window, seeing young women your age float through the streets in bright yellow skirts or green pleated dresses.

The streets were wider and tiled with smooth stones compared to the rocky ground that rocked the carriages up in the village of Trelark. The shops were bigger and the smell- the smell of the place was better for some reason. Delicious aromas of freshly baked bread or roasted pig wafted through the air instead of some goat or horse dung. It made your stomach rumble. You had eaten your packed lunch and shared it with your friends in the carriage that brought you over to the Capitol.

Speaking of which-

“Oh my gods, look at that dress,” Siyeon says as she presses herself against the carriage window and points to a dress in the display window of a seamstress’s shop. It had a sweetheart neckline with bell sleeves in an elegant shade of red, a transparent lace on the hem. Despite how simple it looked, you only wondered how expensive it was.

“I’d give anything to wear that.” She continues and releases a small whine as she slumps back into her seat. “I wish this Selection was for a princess instead of a knight.”

Raviv, who was beside you, laughed at the young woman across you. “Maybe next time. You never know.” He says as he picks at the loose threads of his shirt again. “You can just drop out y’know?”

“And miss out living in the palace and bring shame to my family at the same time? Uh, no thanks. I’ll do my best until I give out.”

You roll your eyes and huff in amusement at the two as they continue to banter. You loved the two a lot- you really did. Siyeon was like the sister you never had and Raviv had a special place in your heart. But you on the other hand were firm in your resolve and promised to yourself that you’d try to outdo them without having to step on them.

You saw more of the city as the carriages pulled through the cobbled streets of the Capitol. Sure it had its fair share of beauty but not every place was perfect. You caught a glimpse of some street kids, covered in dirt from head to toe, in the alleyways between houses and shops. Some of them would be begging for some alms while others just went about and played.

Suppose it couldn’t be helped- the world was cruel like that. But it still breaks your heart every time. You didn’t have much yourself but you were happy and had a roof over your head. Maybe life for the unfortunate was a lot tougher here in the Capitol.

Eventually, the carriages that came from the village of Trelark finally reached the lavish gates of the castle. There was a drawbridge, just like you imagined, but what you didn’t anticipate was the lavish gate that lay behind it.

As soon as the drawbridge lowered, a rather beautiful gate greeted your eyes. There were pillars made of stone and marble running down the sides while gold figurines of horses decorated the top. Black iron bars with gold-tipped ends that pointed up into the sky lined the space between each pillar.

But the gate was nothing compared to the palace itself.

The three of you all looked out the window, eyes gleaming and mouth agape as you gawked at the sight that beheld you. The palace was surprisingly similar to the ones described in the books- pearly and white, tall with several towers striking out from each side, buttresses that supported the building, and a large flag bearing the current family’s crews right on top of the centermost tower. The palace was huge. You couldn’t even see where the walls ended on each side.

“You know,” Raviv starts out softly. “If we were ever supposed to go through this place, I think we’d get lost.”

“No kidding,” Siyeon says, just as quiet like him. “I think I’d be starving and thirsty the minute I find my way back to the entrance.”

“Or one of the undead.” You added, and lightly kicked at Siyeon’s foot.

She then proceeded to flop down against the seat and rise with her hands in front of her, making growling noises as she imitated a zombie, lunging at the both of you. The trio laughs at the antics and pushes her back onto her seat when she pretends to take a bite of your arm.

“Oi, behave in there!” Called out the driver and patted the side of the carriage, effectively hushing you and your companions.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escapes you though. “Whoops.”

“Seonghwa there you are!” The Queen exclaims when he arrives, lapels of his clothes properly pinned and his crown sitting on top of his soft locks.

Seonghwa greets his parents who were sitting upon their thrones, awaiting the delegates that were to arrive at any moment. He kisses each of their cheeks and sat on the right side of his father’s throne, back straight and head high- just as he was taught since the age of five.

A few servants ran around the throne room, sweeping up the linoleum floors and dusting the marble columns. The velvet rug that led from the entrance up to the elevated floor that held the thrones were freshly pressed and practically spotless. The King wanted to leave a good first impression on his people.

“How many do you think there will be, father?” Seonghwa asks, looking over to the man.

The King only straightened up and looked ahead. “Many,” He replies without turning his head to his son. “They come from all parts of our kingdom. I think half of this room may be filled.”

The prince manages to hold back a sigh. Instead, he exhales through his nose and curls his fingers around the armrests of his seat. He thought it was a bit of an overkill to have all these people train just to protect him. Despite the assassin coming from a different kingdom, he thought that bringing other people from within their kingdom imposed a risk as well- you never know if there could be traitors out there.

Nevertheless, he just learned to trust his father’s decision. He knew that his father was wise and well-aware of his decisions. He just hoped this method wouldn’t backfire…

“They’re all here already your highness,” A servant announces as they enter the throne room. “There’s quite more than a handful.”

With a nod and a wave of his hand, the king tells the servant to allow the delegates to enter. The servant gives a low bow and exits the door only to return a few moments later with the young adults. Quietly, they filed into the throne room, wearing different garments that fit with the place they came from.

People from the field lands wore hard, boots dried with mud and loose-fitting clothes to help them move around. Folks near the dock wore almost similar clothing but had more loose-fitting shoes and or sandals. The delegates from the mountain had already shed off their coats as the weather in the Capitol was much warmer. And finally, the folks from the city were more well-dressed, with button-ups, well-tailored pants, and sturdy boots.

You glance around as you shuffle in with your companions near the edge of the group. You hadn’t anticipated this many people to attend. It made your stomach churn with nervousness- there was big competition here. But you weren’t taught to quit this early- you were going to push on until you give out.

Others slinked away or flinched whenever a city-dweller looked over at them. It was a bit hard not to- they just radiated some sort of energy. An aura of power to be exact.

Seonghwa scans the faces of the delegates. They were all so different- in height, background, wear, and everything else. Many looked like they were reluctant to be there but many also had this look of determination in their eyes.

There was one gaze that caught his in particular. It belonged to a woman, maybe his age, standing near the back. He could tell from her garments, specifically the coat that hung over her arm, that she lived in one of the mountain villages.

Her lips were pursed together as she observed the palace around her. There were wonder and awe in them- but as soon as her gaze landed on him and his family, they steeled into something harder, one that read that it would take more than would think to take her down.

Seonghwa is pulled out of his thoughts by his father’s voice welcoming all the participants to the palace.

“Welcome to the Capitol,” The King booms, a warm smile on his face and his arms outstretched. “I’ll keep this brief, but I’d like to thank you for coming all this way. It means a lot to me, my wife, and of course- my son.”

All eyes shift over to the prince. It wasn’t the first time many sets of eyes were trained onto him but he felt nervous this particular time. Maybe it had to do with the fact that the circumstances were different, that they weren’t looking up at him while he stood beside his father during speeches or city celebrations or whenever he had to deliver the occasional speech. Yeah, that must be it.

The young man folded an arm over his torso and bowed a perfect ninety-degree angle. It was a silent gesture of his gratefulness for their efforts, eyes glistening as if all the stars were placed into them.

The King looked to his side and gave a nod. Two men came out from behind a pillar and stood at the foot of the elevated platform that held the thrones.

The first was a tall and burly man. A long white but faded scar ran from the top of his head and across his brow, just catching the edges of his eyelids. Because of the long healed injury- part of his injured eye had a milky-blue color to it, showing that he was partially blind. HIs muscled under his pressed dress suit flexed as he gave a bow and straightened up. He was the literal embodiment of tall, dark, and strong. Despite this though, he radiated a warm and inviting energy- especially with that soft smile of his.

The second was the man most people hated. It was the nobleman that went to the town of Trelark. He wore less warm clothing but his stupid purple feather plume hat remained. His silver beard seemed extra curled today and a shit-eating smirk was plastered across his lips.

The majority of the folk that came from the mountain villages had a sour look on their face when they saw the nobleman. They tried to mask it though to avoid any offense that it could bring to the king.

“This is Byron,” The King introduces the first man. “He shall be training all of you till one of you manages to succeed as the prince’s protector. And this is Duke Hae-seong, one of my royal advisers and a Duke of the kingdom. He shall help manage you and educate you around the protocols of the palace and the kingdom.”

“Yes, that’s right.” The Queen says softly, voice warm and gentle. “It is important not to only train the body but the mind as well. The prince’s protector needs to be knowledgeable of the kingdom’s laws and what his or her rights are as a protector.”

It was a very wise move on the royal family’s part and it made sense. They didn’t want the protector to overstep any boundaries, whether intentional or not or have any abuse in power on their part.

Many delegates didn’t seem pleased to learn that Hae-seong would be tutoring them though. He was impatient and very brash- he clearly was displeased with the way the king and queen took commoners into the palace without a single thought of doubt; he was just good at hiding it.

“Ladies, please follow Mina to your quarters. Gentlemen, Sir Byron will be the one to take you to yours. I hope you don’t mind sharing with others.” The King says and gestures to the crowd gathered in front of them. “And to show our gratitude, we shall be throwing you a feast tonight to commemorate your arrival.”

This seemed to brighten up the spirits of the young delegates. Energy fills them as the adrenaline of excitement rushes through their bodies. A few of them now their heads gratefully to the royal couple while the rest showed their appreciation through bright smiles.

“I thank you all once again for going through all this trouble. Now, freshen up. You’ll have a long day tomorrow.”

The group bows down to the family before them and separate into two groups to head over to their bunkers to rest and recuperate. You look back at the royal family again, seeing them step down from the throne and head to wherever they needed to be in this gigantic castle.

This was it. The game was on- and you were determined to win it.

#ateez #ateez x reader #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #royal au #royalty au #royal ateez #royalty ateez #prince park seonghwa #prince seonghwa #prince!seonghwa #fantasy au #fantasy ateez #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #regiis #fandomsonrequests

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n-ugg · 4 years

Text

I didn't expect to get tagged but here we are. As you all will be able to tell in a bit, I am a massive Quackity fan

Thank you for tagging me @skeetlehands!

who is your favourite member on the smp?

Look, I love them all but these have a special place in my heart.

Quackity, Slimecicle (I am fully aware he just joined but I still love him), Schlatt, Tubbo, Eret, AweSamdude, and Ponk.

They're just great in and out of character and just have comforting vibes.

when did you first start watching the smp and what made you get into it?

I gotten in during the Pogtopia era since it took me a while to get access to the streams.

I mainly gotten in with the Sad-ist War animatics along with me trying to catch up on Quackity's VODS. Just someone that I was already familiar with being an easier shift into story and learning others through him

what is your favourite part about watching the smp?

Just watching everyone interact with other and just seeing the plot progress in real time. Its literally just dnd but with extra steps but I enjoy it so much

The improv that they all do is amazing and how everyone have different approaches to their characters makes my writer's side so happy with dissecting everything.

What piece of cursed lore is your favourite

That Wilbur canonically fucked a fish and Philza canonically fucked a Samasung fridge and just seeing the fanbase try to change into something that will at least make a bit more sense.

Im included in this, I basically joined the side that has Sally being a mermaid shapeshifting pirate. Mainly because of pirate Fundy

Who is your favorite duo on the smp

Slimecicle and Ranboo: They're the same person but in different fonts, you can convince me otherwise

Schlatt and Quackity: They managed to be super funny together with all of the jokes and balanced with making a very realistic abusive relationship work. It was always fun seeing them flirt with each other for a joke then get hit with whiplash when canon comes in to remind me that this isnt healthy

Tubbo and Tommy: They're two dumbasses who share the same braincell but then they constantly lose it and Tubbo mainly has custody of it

Wilbur and Schlatt: I just enjoy seeing Schlatt messing with Wilbur and occasionally flirts with him to get Wilbur more pissed off

Who are your comfort streamers

Quackity and Slimecicle are comfort streamers

Eret, Fundy, and AweSamdude are my comfort people (meaning I dont watch them as much but I find comfort in their presence. And the other two are also under this category)

Who is your favorite character

Quackity due to how complex his character is and yet how it looks so simple

Schlatt because is just a villian who knows how to play the game without getting caught

Tubbo, watching him trying to be hopeful with everything destroy around him and he just slowly become used to everything going wrong

AweSamdude because he is just trying his best to be a father figure others and I just got family issues

Who do you think the best actor(s) on the smp

Imma skip over the ones that we all already said and get into the ones that dont get enough praise

Quackity: Just how he managed to make his character seem so basic but in reality its really complex. And just seeing the shift from him being a chaotic force of nature to being a serious character that is trying his best to reach something that has been hanging over his head is just *chefs kiss* and he always delivers amazing lines on the spot.

BadBoyHalo: He is doing great right now, even though he is a bit rusty with starting he still manages to get into character and stay in character the entire time. When slowly easing in, you can tell its a bit forced but once he finds his footing, he knows how to deliver his lines.

AweSamdude: His entire bit where he was getting rescued from the egg fucking hurt. How he sounded weak from the entire thing and tired to where he just wanted to rest was so well. And I know he can act more energetic when he was accidentally dragged into playing a cop during Quackity's and Bad's date

Fundy: You guys need to give him more praise for his acting because he is fucking amazing at it. The little touches to how he voice when speaks is so good along with his body language in game. He knows what he's fucking doing and I love him for that. And when he snapped, it made complete sense if you payed attention to his character

I didnt add Ranboo because he's automatically at the top section due to him being a dnd player. Same goes to Slimecicle even though he hasnt acted yet. I dont make the rules. You play dnd, you know how to act

What are your favorite quotes

I dont have favorite quotes, just dialog heavy scenes.

Before Doomsday, Quackity going to take his horse far away from L'Manberg, it being the one thing he cares about. It was just so good

The entire Schlatt and Quackity argument in front of the white house

The meeting between Schlatt and Quackity with Schlatt yelling out to him in a taunting way to where Tommy and Quackity are trying to figure out what happened to the tnt. I constantly rewatch it to feel the adrinaline pumping to feel something

Wilbur's slow descend into insanity and talking to Tommy. Just showing his paranoia and fears consuming him, him projecting his fears into Tommy as an attempt of manipulation, and his hero complex shift into villian one

Schlatt's winning speech of him projecting it as something that was bound to happen no matter what. The amount of charisma and confidence that was in his voice as I was watching Tommy hiding underground in fear was just a perfect scene

Tommy's argument with Dream when everyone is protecting Tommy. Its the small details of Tommy taunting Dream to kill him, knowing he wont no matter what. Him telling everyone to protect Tubbo and everyone listening without hesitation.

The debate that Quackity and Dream had for like 11 or 14 minutes. All of that was completely unprompted unscripted, it was just so satisfying seeing someone stand up against Dream for the first time and actually beating him. Sure it was in a verble conflict but it still counts as a defeat

Be honest, who do you simp for? (Ayo if anyone says Tommy or Tubbo I will🗡)

Schlatt, Quackity, and Slimecicle

Its pretty obvious, I dont really try to hide it

Whats your favorite stream

Uhhhh I dont exactly have one so none I guess

Whats your least favorite streams

Im sorry, but all of the Jackbox stream. You need a specific group of people to play together in order to actually make it funny and keeping the energy throughout the entire thing.

After a bit later, everyone has a tendency of pandering to the audience and repeat jokes. They managed to beat jokes to the ground faster than Tiktok AND Twitter.

Dont get me started with DreamTeam being in there. They're funny in thier own rights but the shipping jokes get so unfunny so quick and they dont know how bounce off of others well. The only exception to this is when Quackity, Velvet, and Ant were playing with Sapnap and Dream. And thats because they decided to mess with the straight white guys into accidently saying offensive shit and seeing those two suffer with trying tiptoe around was so amusing

Whats something about the smp fandom thay makes you sad

This doesnt get me sad, just frustrated and its mostly towards dsmptok and dsmptwt but sometimes this fandom doesnt fucking know how to analyze characters. Like when everyone jumped on Tubbo on being the bad guy when he was a kid trying to use old tatics that knows that worked before and stand up for himself

How when one person decides to do something that they believe is right, everyone just throws the term villian arc around

When one person does one good thing the suddenly everyone accepts into them being good and not ever looking into it.

For fucks sakes, I saw people keep saying that Quackity was turning into Dream or Wilbur and I just sat there being confused on how they conntected those dots that were in different books.

Its so frustrating to read through. But here on dsmpblr, you guys actually understand character analysis, are able to critique them and able to love whoever you enjoy.

Another thing is how this fanbase really puts everyone on a pedestal or objectify them. Just completely forgetting that they're human and treat the streamer as a character. Like, yeah they're playing up a persona whenever they're making content but theres a difference and you shouldn't hold them up like that.

You cant use the argument of "They're young, they dont know any better", when I first entered my first fandom (I was like 11/12), I fully understood that theres a boundary between me and the creator. What they are on screen is a persona but they're still human and I should treat them as such. Its just something that bugs me and its unnerving to see whenever people start getting wierd about it

Final bit is just how the twitch chat acts. They all force the streamer to follow the 'main' plot of it being Tommy or Techno or whoever the fandom chooses to have a favorite, completely ignoring the fact that they are their own character. No one wants to meta game because where is the fun in that but the fucking chat gets so annoying when the streamer goes against fanfavorite of the week. It drains the fun of it being multiple pov's and different characters.

When Slimecicle was barely starting stream I saw so many people spam "Go with Ranboo" and not let him even get into lore first. I hated that I knew it was coming but it was still so fucking frustrating seeing them try to boss him around. Please just let people live outside of the 'main' plot, not everything revolves around your favorites. Now shut the fuck up and let them play

What about the smp fandom that makes you happy?

The people that create art, animatics, theories, playlist, or write oneshots

All of you creators are great and deserve so much more respect then what the fandom gives you because jesus fucking christ they're all so fucking rude. You guys are the ones that are carrying this fandom on your backs and I fucking respect yall for that

________________

Time for da spead: @nixavia @dambette404 and @mocha-is-lost yall dont need to join.....unless😳😳😳

#this is long as hell #sorry #ALSO THANK YOU SKETTLE FOR TAGGING ME #I THOUGHT I WAS MOSTLY AN ANNOYANCE TO YOU FOR CONSTANTLY SENDING IN SOME LONG ASS ASK #dream smp #mcyt

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hoseoksactualass · 5 years

Text

illicit episodes

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: smut

word count: wtf it’s ltrly almost a 10k pwp im sick

warning/s: sex during office hours (and a phone call kinda) // oral (male and female receiving) // blindfold use // just very nsfw

summary: dream boy, chief executive officer Jeon Jungkook is someone you go way back with until every fibre of your being becomes his entire fetish.

author’s note: ceo jjk for @taespired

after reading this bitch’s recs I’ve gathered inspiration to write this per her request

have the cliche that nobody asked for but everybody wants: ceo!jk and sec!oc and some other filthy endeavours (also,, jk talks a lot and is cocky here)

It’s a crisp night. Evidently and especially in Jeon Corp. where Chief Executive Officer Jeon Jungkook’s office is astood. Full glass walls that point into a corner so the Big Boss himself can choose what side of the city to overlook. After all, whatever he sees fit is what he gets, and that includes an eagle-eye’s peer over where the sun rises and sets when he feels like turning his back on stacked paperwork on his desk—something the majority doesn’t see someone with such a youthful, handsome face as Jungkook’s tending to, but he does, and aces it, too.

What he doesn’t get, unfortunately, is why he ponders an unusual amount of time about the length of your pencil skirt. Certainly enough, earlier in the day, he swore they were longer than they are tonight. Somewhere above your knees, so like paperwork, he almost demands an explanation why he can see your mid-thighs now and the mesh he wished were some panty hose.

It’s hard to be hard in dress pants, too, and Jungkook has that noted to think about again when he sees you bend over for the umth time in front of him to… tend to the coffee table? For longer than an average amount of time?

That night, you say something in admiration to the hard, sturdy, thick wood of the coffee table, and it’s the same night Jungkook fingers you on it until his fingers are wrinkled wet. The first night of many.

“I’ll have my secretary send you an email.”

In his office, well, his quarter of the floor, Jungkook liked to let you take his blazer and let it grace the coat hanger for the whole day. It was 8:28 in the evening, and city lights, any light, is good to his veneer. Rolled shirt sleeves, expensive belt, and whatnot. Tonight was one of the rather torpid nights, twiddling a pen in his fingers, mind tranced into his phone call with the Chairman of the Board, and you’d hate for the tight of your suspender belts to go unnoticed. You’re three buttons away from an undone blouse.

“Estimates for the next month?,” this is where he looks at you from the listless loll of his head on his office chair. You nod, not missing the way he eyes at the open crevice of your blouse. He doesn’t bat an eye anyway, instantly averts and gets back into the call. “_____ has a summary of that.”

You roll your eyes, knowing full well he wouldn’t see it anyway. You walk closer.

“The marketing manager in—,” he looks up at you, looks back down only to bring his eyes up at you again, at your proximity. “—Japan has a what? Sorry, a problem?,” he has grace in his voice, but his eyes remain stern as if his attention hadn’t been solely caught by the way you dragged your fingers on the surface of his desk, making your way around towards him. “What does she need?,” he speaks to the phone in the same way he tugs at the sleeve of your blouse, pulling you steps closer so he can ogle at you in the comfort of leaning on his office chair. You flash him a smile, but you know it would come artlessly, what with the handsome part in his hair and the softening of his face when he finally gets that front seater view of the lace on the underboob of what Jungkook could make out as an… open front bra. “Uh—huh, should I—,” he nods as if Mr. Park could see him from his end. He tugs more at your blouse, shuffling you to his lap. “—call this a phone call and handle that then?,” he speaks with a tighter breath, and you send him a glare, aware that his impatience was evident and that he’d make you make the phone call in fluent Japanese after whatever he was growing impatient for. You shake your head, threatening to scoot off his lap before you feel his free hand cup at the small of your back. “Ah, that,” he nods again, pushing his lower lip into a small pout, and you roll your eyes again, but this time he sees it, and it’s with a smile. “_____ had that finalised since last week. She’s my—She’s a really sharp secretary,” he bites white at his lip, teeth sliding swiftly at his lip balm, and you watch every second blood rushes back into it. He palms at your chest, feeling for the opening until he can play his fingers onto your skin. “She’s emailing you on those March sales as we speak,” he boasts, pride in his lie and the way he cranes his neck where you offer to kiss. “I’d love to, I’d love to,” he sounds chipper. You assume it’s about drinks, dragging the tip of your nose across his jugular. His hand leaves the warmth of the inside of your blouse, and you feel it move to the mound of your ass. Just soft petting like it’s on his schedule. You don’t rut your hips; work clothes make way too much sound to be this close to a phone call.

The way you’re sat on his lap makes your skirt hike up your thighs, enough that Jungkook sees the straps of the suspender belt latched onto your stockings. You look at him, eyes still buzzed in an attempt to focus on the call while his fingers played with the mesh, gradually going up to the strips of the garter belt.

“I’m assuming it’s just Japan who has an issue,” his head perks up at you, amused by the way you followed his every gesture. He gives your thigh a squeeze before mouthing the word off. “Great, no attempt to contact was made yet?,” he watched as you slipped off your skirt.

You knew this would get him. To see you undone, undressed this way, a garter belt, just a garter belt that matched the revelation of your bra.

“I—I understand,” you see his chest rise high and fall. Lethargic. You make your way towards him again. He fishes for something on his desk, and then you figure out it’s the remote for the blinds when you hear a significant beep, and the room starts to grow dimmer. “You can—,” he gestures for you to turn around. “—leave that to me,” you comply only to turn to face him again. He bites down on his lip. “Ah—no, sir, it’s a late night for me.”

He gestures for your blouse’s buttons. You undo them slowly.

“For _____?,” you both perk up, meeting eyes, his dark, possessive. “Why do you ask? I believe she’s finalising that email at this second,” there’s a grit to his teeth, but he manages to smug it down. You smirk at him, and he takes it like a challenge to his competence. You’re a button away. “Mm, very well,” then he cuts his attention span, paying full to the phone call more because he was in a hurry to end it. “See you tomorrow.”

He ponders for a bit, recollecting everything Mr. Park had rambled through those lines before he looks back up at you. “You get better at lying by the day, sir,” you grin. “Part of the job?”

“What I know is that you—,” and he eyes you up and down for the effect. “—should keep my secrets,” he leans back on his chair, fingers hooking to the knot of his tie, then he pulls.

He’s lit by the filter of his blinds, bleeding with the blur of city lights; there’s a good reason behind the stigma that rings around the youngest CEO-Secretary duo and how good they look (and perform). “And I do,” you reach for your heels in an attempt to slip off the pain in your feet.

“Keep them on,” he cuts you off, the tip of his index finger running slowly over his lips. “What? I like them.”

“They hurt.”

“Fine. Off, then,” he sighs as you giddily kick your heels off then finally make your way to him again, bending down to brush the surface of your lips against his. The feeling’s addictive, scandalous but it only makes you more avid for it. You feel him take your blouse off before you wave it away, leaving you in lingerie an easy bite off his own credit card. Rich, and you could sniff it off him.

You kiss down his neck, his chest and abdomen through his dress shirt, and then undo his belt like it’s practice.

“You dress like this under everyday?,” he coos, watching as you get on your knees.

“Not everyday, but I will if you make it dress code.”

“Feel like I should,” he raises an eyebrow, confident but you still see the blazing excitement in his eyes. You tease a hot kiss on his lower abdomen, unzipping his pants. “Who are you looking this good for?”

“Myself,” you respond, palming his crotch, and he takes it with a smile.

“Gonna suck my dick for yourself, too?,” he smirks, moving his foot between your thighs and nudging them open wider from where you kneel. “Don’t think so.”

You make sure you do it languidly when you take his length out, half hard in anticipation for the heat of your mouth. You tease your tongue on the head of his cock, wetting it before you wrap your lips around it just to release with a pop. “What makes you think I’m doing this for anyone other than myself?,” you stroke him dry.

“You’re doing it for everyone you—fuck—want would get hard or wet for you,” he speaks with a voice coming more from the tightening of his chest.

You like feeling him like this, gradually becoming solid at the mercy of your mouth, hearing every hitch of his breath, and looking at him not as someone of power but as someone you can take the power out of. You let up after a particularly deep suck. “Tell me more,” you place a tight fist around his cock. “You mean yourself?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, moans coming out in forms of consecutive heavy exhales you could feel in your spine. “And others.”

You gather a decent amount of saliva in your mouth, straighten up on your knees, and make sure he sees clearly when you let your spit drip on his dick. It’s easier to stroke him. “Others?”

“Fuck, ugh—you’re making a mess,” he leans his head back like the rest of the chair was a magnet, just to bring his line of sight back to you.

“Who is others, sir? Who else do you think would get hard or wet for me?,” you mock.

He hisses at the play of honorific but more because you knew exactly what you were doing with your hand. He smirks, though, scoffs almost. “Mr. Park. If I put that call on loud speaker, you would have heard how many times he’d mentioned you.”

“Jealous?”

“No—fuck, keep going—,” he pets at your hair, gently caressing his fingers over the neat of your low updo. “Was just thinking if—he’d seen you in those already.”

You chuckle, up to play his game though fucking Jungkook was admittedly becoming pretty exclusive. Even for him. “You’re my first audience. Always,” you chaff, finally taking him in your mouth to avoid saying anything else. He takes it like it’s the same thing that puts him to sleep and keeps him up at night, head digging into the backrest, back arching at the feeling. You’ve done this too many times to not know exactly what makes his body twitch; it’s easy enough to tighten your cheeks around his cock.

“Mr. Park hasn’t one idea what you do to me,” he as if boasts, tucking stray hair behind your ear lest he wanted it caging the view of your lingerie clad body. “What you’re doing to me—now,” his breath gets cut into a tight moan, a kick of his hip hitting the back of your throat. He moans again at the sound you make. You listen to him like it’s plugged to your ears. “That—filthy rich son of a bitch thinks he has it all,” he huffs, eyes closed when he blissfully loafs his head back before looking at you again. You look at him, only feeling the moulding of your insides more. “What he doesn’t have—,” he thumbs at your cheek, dragging it across the skin of your face to the corner of your lips where he can see his cock plunge in. He bites his lip before speaking again. “—is this mouth, right?”

“Mm,” you hum. Something about how competitive he felt around his own chairman of the board made your body churn harder than it was supposed to. You were supposed to be zipping rich off traffic on your way home by now, but now, your boss’s dick is part of your schedule. You won’t question it.

“Get up,” he forces, watching the way you let up leave a glisten on his dick, and he finds it pretty. He tugs you to his lap, manspreads when you’re sat on him, so he can touch you where he sees fit. “And what he doesn’t have—,” he continues, eyes lingering over the swell of your lips. You feel his finger feel down, all the way straight to your core. “—is this,” he smirks when he sees your face shudder. He smears his finger across the lips, rubbing too sensitive against your clit, you make a soft ah at each caress. He easily dips a finger inside, watching his hand’s work.

You like looking at him like this, his hair curtained over his eyes when he’s tranced by how you can make parts of him disappear inside you, i.e. his finger in your cunt, his breaths shallow, cock hard and red against his abdomen. You can pretend it feels good for now, his finger prodding at the wrong place, but his visual turns you on enough that pretending doesn’t feel like a chore. Until you don’t have to. It’s one curl of his finger and the right pressure that makes your hips roll like reflex.

“That’s it,” he leans before continuously pressing his finger against the spot. “Fuck yourself on my finger,” he would’ve asked you if you were up for it first, but he knows you’ll give in. What he doesn’t know is how hot it gets him. He watches you, in the congratulation of nature for the broad of your hips that rock on his finger, the water from your cunt that’s starting to soil your inner thighs, and the glisten reflecting colours of the city outside. You’re filthy art.

Another thing you like is making a mess on him and seeing him welcome it. He lets you pull on his tie rough enough, his head jerks before your lips crash. It’s almost an unkempt kiss, too—mouthing at each other like you’re trying to drink each other up, but his tongue is always so soft against your bottom lip. He kisses you like it’s ecstasy—what he feels on his finger. Then it’s near endgame when you whimper on his lips.

“Look at me,” he mutters, swiping his tongue over his lips. But you’re in too deep that his voice is nothing but radio noise. All you do is rock your hips harder in request for more and make sure he sees when your body shudders. “Please open your eyes, and look at me,” it’s like he begs for it, too, and it’s always him to plead for something he’s greatly smitten by. Until you don’t comply. He nearly rips his tie off when he undoes it, leaving you empty and snapped out of your reverie. “If you’re not gonna look at me, you’re not gonna look at anything,” he almost growls, foaming at the mouth when he ties his necktie around your eyes, forcing nothing but a dark shade of blue until all you can do is hear, feel, smell, and taste. You wince when you feel the tip of his dick against your entrance, two firm hands on your waist. You hear it when he yanks at a drawer, shuffling through envelopes and whatnot before the ripping of plastic and just the enticing, perfect roll of rubber over his dick.

There’s a burn under your body, but you sit on the fire as if you like the way you simmer on it. With your eyes covered, your other senses are sharper, but you doll yourself into submission, not having to see to know full well how hard that made Jungkook not twitch in his dress pants. You feel his lips against your ear.

“What were you thinking of when you bought these?,” when he asks, you hear how young he is. The little postgrad boy with stars in his eyes and a gift for numbers, slack-jawed for girls in expensive lingerie he’d only ever seen in... well, much higher levels of living such as that of your lives now. You feel him pull at your garters before snapping back on your skin.

You bite your lip. Jeon Jungkook, the Computer Science major you had been pining for in your younger years, was now your boss, fingers digging into your hips like the scandal of it all blows his pupils into nothing but black. You have him right where you want him. And although you roll your hips like you’re begging, and he’s grimacing into your skin with authority, you know you’re the one in control. “You. I was thinking of showing it to you,” you whisper, voice more velvety than intended.

“Just showing?”

You crane your neck, give him more skin to nip on while he speaks through his teeth. “More than that.”

“Say it,” he presses a kiss to the juncture where your head meets your neck. “Please.”

“Thinking of making you fuck me in them,” you finger through his hair, messing the do in it, but it’s always nice to feel the silk of his roots. You have him somewhere between making and fuck. It’s only fitting you hear the noise he makes clearer. “I thought of you bending me over your desk and fucking me silly.” After that, all that rung in Jungkook’s mind was a string of I want to fuck her I want my cock inside her I want to hear her cry for it.

“You had this whole nasty act planned then, huh?,” he’s lost, the colour in his eyes a thin ring around his pupils. “Bending over every time I’m on the phone, you do this to Mr. Park, too?”

You hold back a smirk. “I had this act planned just for you.”

You could be smoldered into his skin at this rate, keening where he touches and throbbing where he doesn’t. In his pulse you hear him feeling just the same way, chest tight, sweat on his hairline. He goes a little quiet until you feel him grip at your hips, lifting you slightly, and then the glory of his cock teasing at your entrance. “Shit.”

You make a tiny whimper, and his head would have shot up if it wasn’t for the rather wet visual you had prepped for him.

“You should stop making me want to fuck you every time I’m trying to work—fuck,” he twinges when you sit on him, sinking down, and a long, raspy breath leaves his chest. “Like it just the same when you’re on top of me like this?”

You like how he mumbles this way, as if whispering small mercies and sweet nothings to his own ear, just a breathier, whinier, filthier way of him uttering things to himself when work has the best of him.

You don’t analyze it over; you just want his cock hitting the right place, so you take charge and start with a slow bounce. Enough that you can say the pressure inside you feels good. You know he’s sat back despite being deprived of his visual, with the way you feel him holding his chair in place and the tense of his thighs every time you make him bottom out, and the sounds of his breaths, leaving in ropes of heavy pants and tight groans. You feel a thumb to your clit.

“Oh, fuck,” you almost throw your head to the side. The feeling sends the pair of you into a fucking frenzy—you picking up your pace as you bounce and him trying to match with his finger on your clit. “Ugh—nngh, oh my god—Sir,” the honorific is something you don’t intend. You know, you’re used to it rolling off the tongue just right. With the kick of his hips, you know he’d reveled in that more than you knew.

“Fuck—fucking say that again.”

You shiver, gripping on the arm rests for leverage, head tilted up as if in praise. When you speak, your throat’s a little dry, but it comes off in a husky, light “Sir.”

Why do I find that so fucking hot is all Jungkook thinks of, but he’s biting his lip before he makes a sound more choked than yours.

He doesn’t ask again, but by now, you have a mental note of it. And if there’s something you’re known for as a secretary besides being astonishingly younger than most and unusually giddy around her boss, you were quick at picking up on everything, so you say “Sir, it feels so fucking good” like you were programmed to.

You feel his cock do a thing inside you, and you almost laugh. Quickly replaced by a strangled moan, though, feeling him press down harder as he rubs you. He’s all noise and no words, breathy and tickly in all the good ways until he’s formed a considerable sentence. “Yeah? Fill me in,” one thing that shocks you is his spontaneity in knowing just exactly how to play. Fill me in is the exact same thing he says when asking for minutes, and you tremble as you ride him without intending to. “You like this better than getting your back blown from behind?,” you hear the grimace on his lips. His voice drops, not lower, just softer, more silky, dangerous almost when he says “You like being blindfolded?”

It’s not only the way he says it; it’s all the context behind it. Something about him scribbling down in his head what made your pussy clench around him and what put you off; it was almost... intimate. All you could muster is a faltering “Y-Yeah.”

“Tell me what you like about it,” he prods.

There’s another thing about responding to this that might ignite your skin where it meets him. As if giving in to him, making him feed off the fetish inside you that is him and every hot thing he does that makes you putty, and you don’t want to splay the evidence before him, but when he asks with a soft plead, “Tell me how this makes you feel”, you find your lips parting. “I—,” you choke when he draws circles on your clit faster as if intending to make you sputter. “I want to see you, but—I like—fuck, I like—how filthy this is.”

He groans, doesn’t mean to. Your thighs are feeling sore.

He doesn’t ask you to continue, but you do. “S-Somehow, I can—I like that all I can do now is—is hear and feel you,” you’re getting lost in it, stars in your eyes though he doesn’t see. Everything’s starting to fall into the right place, and you don’t know whether the object of his dick in and of itself feels good, or whether that was because he was doing wonders for your clit, or maybe because Jungkook was just hot. You play into it like you’re trained to and ask, voice in a choked whimper, “I just need to—taste you now.”

His thighs flex to a tense. “M-Motherfuck—,” he brings the office chair low, awkward when you slowly descend, but your feet’s weight finds home on the ground, so at least you can bounce on him without rolling on a chair around the office. He doesn’t need to hold onto the desk now, too, so he brings two fingers to your lips and faintly prods. “Ah,” he groans, a low hum when he asks you to open your mouth. “B-Be a good girl,” he almost hisses. “—and taste me like this, hm?”

It’s like your blood ascends to a boil and is stunned right under your skin when you feel him stroking at your mouth. You obey, keeping your tongue a plump bed when you take his fingers inside your mouth.

When you lightly moan, Jungkook rubs a harsh circle on your nerves before collecting his pace again. “This what you wanted?,” he asks, chest heaving harder, and you almost whine that you don’t get to see him in his glory. “Can you taste me like—like this f-for now?”

You twitch at his tone, hum to it, inner thighs burning at the sore, but you don’t give a single fuck. You bathe in it, feel the way your pupils dilate to try and collect light, but all you’re getting is a more refined version of everything but. He’s moaning for it, eyes switching between the way your lips were wrapped sloppily around his twiddling fingers and down where he was stroking you fast. He tastes of sweat and fading lotion, and every inch and twinge in your body is a second closer to ripping yourself to shreds.

It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Establishing an unintentionally exclusive sexual connection with your boss was downright absurd, but it can’t be helped when every sensation was a fucking astral projection. You felt like you were evolving, above everyone else, and it was all because of this man’s energy. His eyes are in a haze. You tongue around his fingers, zoned out yourself, until he moans again. “If—If you’re gonna keep this up, I’m gonna—,” you feel him shudder under you. “Oh, fuck—I’m gonna—”

You’d have a mouth to your face in shock if you were looking at yourselves from a third perspective, or maybe the build up was coming too fast; you’d almost want to push him away and veer off the feeling. It’s still something he pressed harder on you, until your cunt makes squelching noises, and that’s where his head snaps. “Shit—oh, god—keep talking, please—”

“Yeah? Keep going,” he says through his tongue’s sputter. “Keep yourself on—on that cock, you fucking—ugh—,” You don’t long to plague yourself on the thought that he’d like to use your body to overwhelm himself this way, let you milk him until none of you can take it, but it plagues you anyway. He takes his fingers out of your mouth, drags the wet of his down your moving torso, makes sure he’s smearing it just right. You mewl. “Fuck—keep going.”

“Shit, fuck, I’m so close,” you squeak, the lower portion of your body quivering slightly. This is what fucking Jungkook was like—bedevilling yourself into nothing but sex and filth. “God, fuck, I wanna cum so bad—”

“Fucking—take it, please,” his hand goes down your waist, planted there like he’s hesitating whether to control your motions or not. “Keep going until you can’t take it, slut—fuck—”

“Oh my god,” you shrivel. But now, your thighs are jelly and knees are trembling; it becomes a supercut—the way he latches on to your hips, lifts you like you weigh nothing and props you on his desk atop messily swiped away papers, and it doesn’t take a minute before your toes curl, and your body itself withers into a weak hold around his dampening body, blinded from everything but the feeling of him taking it away and your own tight shrieks. Then you’re palming at his chest, his shoulders; the feeling’s making your hips buck. “Sir—fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck—”

“Fuck, fuck, you’re so good,” he growls, loses control, leans over your body and pulls off the tie from your eyes only to groan yet again at the sight of your dilated pupils, the twitch of your face and body with every thrust closer to deathly overstimulation. Then his mind-to-mouth filter is nothing but barren territory. “Holy shit, you’re getting—fucking tighter,” he bites, and he’s not done. “That’s a good slut, that’s my good slut,” not done. “So you’ll take it, okay? Take this in your tight cunt until I’m done with you?,” not done. “You’re gonna make me finish, o-okay?”

You almost beg for it, still exactly aware of what strings of his to play with even if a second longer was one step closer to insanity. For now, it’s a whimpery mantra of “Sir, Sir, Sir—”.

“Oh my fuck,” then he loses it, holding back with a tight strain in his chest and all the pull in his abdomen, silent but taut pants until he lets loose with a string of airless groans, slowing down after. He curses a silent “Shit” to himself before pulling out and releasing himself of the soiled rubber.

Jeon Jungkook is a gentleman, taking your hand and pulling the wear and use of your body to his lap, this time with your back pressed to his front. It’s a story for another time, but when you’d just started out these particular endeavours with Jungkook, you had to acclimate to him treating you like you were married after sex, now the situation being him stroking your tummy as he embraced you and taking up your scent with his nose to your back. “You like being called sir.”

You can’t see him, but you know his eyes are closed. The skin where he sniffs gets cold. “I guess so,” he mumbles. His arms tighten around you, and that’s when you declare you haven’t adjusted to him holding you this way at all, especially with his dick done being inside you.

“I’ll put that to good use.”

“You already did, miss,” he laughs up your skin, sending two small taps to your hip to tell you it’s time to get off, and you hate it when you feel upset it didn’t last. “Anyway, I have to work from home tomorrow. Need you with me by...,” he brings his wrist up after you get off him, already in the process of pulling your skirt back up.

At the same time, you glance at the wall clock. Just struck 9.

“By seven.”

“In the evening?,” you toe your heels on.

He smiles. “Better if you’re early.”

You don’t know why, but you feel awkward when you smile back and respond with a soft “Right.”

At most at this second, you were a coffee girl, and you’d love to get out of this tight blouse that’s digging where you sweat. “Anything else?,” you stand next to Jungkook, graced but unfazed by the glory of him working on opening a new sales firm in Japan while wearing pyjamas.

It’s only now he gains sight of the restless on your face. “I didn’t really need you here, you know.”

You felt that make a section in your brain twitch, but you’ve mastered the art of sucking it up years ago. “I’m your secretary after all. We never know,” cue your signature simper, but he knows you too well by now.

“Oh, I know,” he smiles, flatting out papers on his desk and his fingers swipe dangerously close enough to knock his new cup of coffee over. “Called you here to gift you something, actually. I knew you’d be… exhausted.”

You feel the unshakeable use in your loins yet again; it’s like home was phoning you. Turns out you could get enough of your hot boss’s antics. “Oh?”

“I’d let you plan an opening shower for this firm and get that gift for you myself, but I’d figured you’ve had enough of work today,” he leans on the desk, resting his chin on the back of his palms adorably, blinking at you with the still audacity to flirt. “It’s on the bed. In my room.”

It can’t be helped. You smile at him, still in the middle of trying to oil the gears in your head to come up with a thank you or an apology for looking so fucked out.

“And can you turn on my Nintendo Switch while you’re at it? It’s on the bedside. And you can take a shower if you want.”

You laugh, nodding, to turn on your heel and make your way, the implication of him joining you to thumb at a Nintendo device heavy on your mind.

Your heels are still obnoxiously loud by the time you’re at the hall to the left despite trying. You kick them off politely before entering, and when you do, a cityscape view meets you. Someone forgot to turn down the blinds, but it’s perfect like this. A privilege to feel on top of the world by being on top of the world. The ache in your feet’s wearing off already, and the second thing you see is the beige paper bag that sits on the foot of his bed. You don’t bother switching any light on, seeing it sits bright in the contrast of the dimlit room and his dark bed sheets.

Your soles feel like they have balls under them when you walk, but you swerve and flick on his Switch first, its supposedly vivid colours toned in the night’s lighting. On the bedside table was also his watch, ticking an uncertain 8:29 and signifying you had been working on the clock for more than twelve hours. Your work hours tended to always get this rowdy when international boards like that of Japan’s had problems, so you worked like a flint striking stone, though Jungkook… was rather tranquil this evening. As if he had something planned altogether. You won’t question it.

It takes just a peek for you to decide how predictable of a gift this was, an elegant bundle of black silk and lace at the bottom of the bag. You take the bag by your fingers and walk your way to the bathroom, an inevitable smirk on your lips.

Walking in on the luxury of his bathroom will never be customary, already looking warm before you even switch on a light. When you do, you feel like you’ve stepped into a magazine altogether, the golden glow of the vanity giving the perfect accent to the dark, granite finish of the counters and big-tiled walls. For some reason, you don’t lock the door.

“Huh?” is something you don’t say to yourself out loud while facing yourself in the mirror, but the way the black chemise drapes over the parts you’d use to provoke Jungkook has you raising your brows.

The pair of you are for window undies and garters and lace and mesh upon lace and mesh, but an opaque, painfully lustrous slip was prettily uncalled for. Your hair’s still wet, but it’s something you ignore when you twist your body for a bit for the mirror as if not used to how concealed all your curves, slopes, and lines were. At least when around Jungkook.

You hear the doorknob jiggle, and you’re not supposed to, but you feel jittery, on your toes.

He greets you with a tapping foot, a flustered blush, and a bit lip.

“You’re taught to knock,” you smile, hands smoothing the silk down your hips. You feel like a wife on her anniversary night, and he’s in careless pyjamas, too, barely allowing you to make out the more intricate lines of muscle.

“You’re taught to lock,” he mumbles through a bitten lip, and you’d expect him to eye you all the way down by now, but he’s fixated on your eyes. “Kidding.”

It’s not entirely carnal, but you feel obligated to act a certain way at this moment, what with how the pair of you are dressed for rewiring your brain into being on your toes like a wedded couple’s honeymoon. “Should I address the elephant in the room?,” you break eye contact.

“Huh?,” but he’s already turning on his heel, feet leaden and ready to throw his weight where his bed waits for him. He catches on what you mean swift though, and responds with a huffy “You mean my present? Different, right?” as he crashes down.

You turn off the bathroom light and close the door behind you after grabbing the beige bag now containing your work clothes. “...Sort of,” you wiggle your toes. “I was just trying it on,” you say that rather louder than intended, and it makes him chuckle.

“Nah, tell me what you really think about them,” he pushes himself up, propped on his elbows. You give a good eye at the fabric smoothing over his chest. “I think you look hot, honestly.”

“I feel like I’m about to do nothing but literally sleep with you.”

It makes him guffaw, a bit too hard you would say if you were in his shoes; you almost speculate the slack in his jaw and the wrinkle in his eyes too much and wonder if just sleeping with you had ever crossed his mind. “It’s not like you never have.”

“I have, but it’s always after we fuck,” you raise your brows slightly.

Then it’s now you discern he gives you a sly, once-over and licks his lips. It’s almost like it gives you a spritz of energy in your bones. “Well, do you want to?,” he pulls on his collar before flicking one button of his top open, then toned, honey skin is all you think of. “Just sleep with me, I mean?”

You pull a distasted face, apples of your cheeks twitching into a scrunch when you scoff “‘Course not.”

“Good. Come here,” he pats the space next to him. A smirk on your face can’t be helped when you comply. If you were alone, the instant feel of sheets would have you in an abrupt power nap, but Jungkook handles you like he couldn’t care any less. He throws a leg over you, in a kneeled crouch above you just close enough for you to feel his breath. “Just sit back for me, hm?”

You’re not used to it. The lax in your body, how unmoving you are, clad in bold silk and lace, and Jungkook can see nothing of you but the processing in your eyes and how you wait as if calculating—Why is he

touching me like I’m about to break?

“Do me a favor,” he stills before biting white on his lip. “Tonight, I—,” then you catch his eyes follow down your body, how the silk leaves nothing and yet everything to his imagination. You’re waiting, pulse in sync with the watch on his desk. “I’m not your boss, okay?,” he as if proposes like he’s unsure you’ll confide in him. All you do is search his eyes. “I’m not a CEO, I’m just—,” his shoulders go slump, and for a minute, he zones out. “Just Jungkook.”

You blink. “I—,” honestly don’t know what to say, not when you have outstanding employee plaques on your walls telling you to treat Jungkook exactly how he says not to at this moment. “—but, Sir—“

He groans, leaning down and keeping you caged between his knees, pressing an open-mouthed kiss below your ear. “Have to stop calling me that now, or I’ll snap,” he mutters. You feel his eyelashes on your skin, every edge of his close to you boosted by the touch. For some reason, the whole idea of the pair of you in bed just like teens, with no hectic schedule or firms to attend to, has your breath hitching and even more so when he sucks your skin.

Your hands find his hair, letting the strands sprout through the spaces between your fingers when you faintly tug, and he groans in response. You’ve rarely called him this ever since college, but somehow, your tongue finds it rolls off just as right at this second—he nibbles, and you sigh, “Jungkook.” His name tastes sweet.

Then his pupils blow up, and a soft growl accumulates from his throat, his body reacting at the use of his name before his mind can even grasp it. The use of his name from your lips. “I just—,” he shivers, one hand palming at your chest. Another kiss on your collarbone. “—want to be good to you.”

His voice comes from all kinds of alluring and almost desperate. His lips rose around the bone of your collar and suck, granting himself a soft hiss he realises he’s looking for his name in. Your eyes long to flitter shut, but how Jungkook stops to eye at the marks he’s left can’t be any more admirable. You hear him sniff down your chest, his nose gliding against the fabric before another near chaste kiss on your womb.

“You’re not wearing anything else,” he utters, keeping himself level with your crotch when he slides slow hands from the back of your knees and higher.

“’Course I’m not.”

“Good,” he exhales, languid when he pushes your knees into a bend, feet flat on the bed, enough that the chemise curtains over your arousal. You grab a pillow, stuff it under your head lest you want a strain over gaping at him too much. He knows what he does to you. Keeps his eyes on you when he bites on the hem of your slip and leisurely pulls it up where he can see more skin, breathing, turning red in a glow, panting, waiting. Lost in some new inhibition and more when he whispers “Smell so good,” he kisses the mound of your crotch. “So sweet.”

You’re throbbing for it—a prelude for Jungkook wrapping wet lips around your nerves only to stay immobile. All he does is take a deep inhale against your heat; his eyes flutter shut involuntarily, and as if that hazed him, he opens his eyes into dark, lust-ridden hoods. You’re rendered speechless, the way he touches you almost convincing you you’ll break. He kisses against you, tongue licking right under the hood and lips tightening with every stroke. You make a sound he groans to, feeling a jump in the pit of your stomach before it starts to sear in your toes. “Oh, god,” you whisper, grabbing soft hold on the back of your thighs.

It’s not scarce he hears you like this, laboured breathing and whatnot, pressure on your fingertips wherever you hold on to, but your endeavors preceding that of now’s clearly showed you had the upper hand. Whether it be getting your hair tugged on, your ass squeezed to a bruise, or getting thrown against a wall, he’a always a glare away from being at your total mercy. Not now. And you don’t figure that out just yet.

He mouths at your pussy before pulling free with the shudder in your chest. He takes one arm from where he holds you and brings it to a fold near him, so his fingers play along your wetness. Your lip finds comfort bitten.

What’s so fun about this is the role Jungkook’s getting too good by the second at playing. Your eyes show puzzlement at his feigned love-struck ones, and he has you exactly where he wants. Vulnerable, anticipating something strangely erotic and intimate. The upper hand is his, and he uses its fingers to spread the lips of your cunt apart. “You okay?”, he keeps his eyes on your core. He’s not going to make any snarky comments on how your pussy looks like fresh fruit, but you feel how wet it is anyway, down your ass and all. He pushes a bit with his fingers, watching when the slick drips. He doesn’t spare your eyes a glance, bites his lip to the visual.

“Yeah, I’m—,” he pushes a finger in. It’s limp, and you feel nothing off it, so you know it’s just for feelers. “—fine,” you squeak.

“Want you to feel good, though,” he still doesn’t look at you when he twists his hand so his palm faces the ceiling, curling the plunged finger inch by inch and waiting for that one twitch. He finds it, warm and frilly against his prod. “Do you feel good?”

“There—I—feel good,” you lick your lips and swallow before realising how parched your throat was. He pecks a kiss on your clit before repeatedly pressing his finger against your spot, earning himself almost a shrill whimper from you. “Oh, god.”

“Yeah?,” he pushes a second digit in, the stretch sudden but easy. “Want to make you feel good, want you to cum on my tongue and fingers,” he as if confesses, stiffening his fingers when he slowly pulls in and out to push at your sweet spot again. He feels your hips buck, eyes breaking contact with your pussy just to see your abdomen clench. “You make me so hard, though, I can’t let you just cum now.”

You moan at his words, stupified by whatever persona he’s acquired, youthful and dirty and whipped. “F-Fuck,” is all you can muster.

He speeds up. “What I mean is—,” he stripes his tongue up where you throb for it, and you flinch. “—I want you to cum on my cock. I want to feel this tight, wet pussy cum around my cock, hm?,” his breath proves shallow, fucking you harder with his fingers. A little harder, and you’ll unravel. “I want you—,” his cock’s too much of a strain in his pyjamas by now, and his face feels too muggy. Then he admits, “—to fall apart,” pulling his fingers free and leaving you into a bloodshot, panting grime on his sheets before he proceeds towering over you. His fingers almost slip with your slick when he pulls his shirt off. He’s cruel enough to watch himself when he pulls the waistbands of his pj’s and boxers off, his cock springing up and twitching to a stand against his abdomen. You pulsate in anticipation.

He lazily strokes himself, propping himself in a kneel above you again. He stares at you, the curve of your body and how you wait wet for him. A breath leaves him in a shiver. You attempt getting up and taking his cock in your own hand, but he groans, pushes you down with his other hand and uses it to pull the hem of your chemise all the way above your breasts. Looks for the red undertone of your arousal, your breath and its evident heaving; he squeezes himself before picking up his pace. “Jungkook, let me touch you,” you mutter, on your elbows.

He can’t resist. He lets go and shrivels under the feel of your own hand, pumping him just as he had been. He hums, tilts his head to catch the spread of your cunt, still wet, swollen almost. You make sure your thumb glides over the curtain of the head of his cock, and he bucks. Subsequent to his almost falling apart, he breaks free of your touch and finally props himself down, eyes level with yours, length rubbing on the lips of your heat. You make a whimper of some sort. “Hm?,” he rocks his hips like this. His ears are red.

You can wait. Enamored by how much of a fetish you had become for him. Everything you do or say turns a switch on, and then he’ll want his dick inside you. And now that you had made this revelation, he has you at a blind spot, just waiting, even if one mention of his name will have him by his knees. You whisper, “Jungkook.”

“God,” he ruts, wetting himself with you. “I wanna fuck you so bad,” he makes a choked exhale, a scrunch on his nose leaving none of his struggle to your imagination. It’s excruciating already. Almost a wine sommelier made to watch before she gets a taste, and every second feels like she’s not getting it so soon. His hair’s falling over his eyes, but you won’t have his head for it. He makes it look painfully sexy, in his crazed element. “It’s—fuck,” he laughs, shaking hair from his vision, licking his lips into a bite when his hips stutter. “Fucking everything about you,” he fakes pressure on your hole, enough to give you a pre-launch on how he’s gonna feel getting in you, but he slides his cock yet again, a shrill groan leaving his throat like he’s annoying himself. “—makes me wanna fuck you so bad.”

Accordingly, you think it’ll drive him crazier if you slowly snake your arms from his back to his neck, and it does. He jerks forward and bites his lip a bit too hard, it’s blood red by the time his teeth give.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, si—Jungkook.”

With that, he caves, sparing you silent, awkward seconds to yank at the bedside drawer, and the familiar plastic ripping and rubber rolling plays like a montage again. With what vigor he had to tease you into a puzzle, he uses when he pounds you. You pull at his hair a bit too hard but this time with the awareness anything you do conjures some type of scourged reaction from him. This time, it’s a “Yeah—fucking make me feel it,” he growls, breath light already, and you feel the sheets tighten by your nape where he fists. Your nails almost spade through his scalp, and he only asks for more. Your skin sounds like cheap porn, like a fake audio overlay to appeal to those who craze over slapping skin. “Harder,” there’s a grit to his teeth. Biting down on whatever filth he has before he lets loose.

He’s fucking you hard enough. CEO Jeon Jungkook will look at who he is at this second and frown at his stripped dignity but fawn over how he knows exactly how to move. He knows your body. He’ll know exactly what skin to pinch to make a limb twitch. And he’ll learn fast when the waters haven’t been tested. In this context that he wants to fucking hear you. Are you gonna speak in tongues over dick like this? Are you gonna beg? Scream? Bleat?

“Tell me how you feel.”

Your hands go for his biceps. “I—ohhhfuck so good— fuken’—so hard, Jungkook.” Speak in tongues.

He leans down, totally snogs your ear while he’s at it, biting at skin you’ll put a pain patch over to hide. “Come on, make me hear you,” he pleads, proving lust for more. You never miss how his voice gets tight. He slows for a second, props his knees again; the sheets are starting to sting and stick to his sweat. Then he thrusts back in, fuller, deeper where his fingers have been, and your back archs the way he knows. Somehow, it’s still new. “Right—fucking there, huh?,” then cue—he goes faster. And your hips buck awkwardly, feet leaden, ankles stabbing the foam, abs flexing, and—

“J-Jungkook—more, more—.” Beg. “—More—fuck!” Scream.

And he prides himself with it. Smiles, even. “Yeah, baby?,” is in character with it. You won’t have his head now for anything even if he calls you his fucking sweetheart. Crisis talks. He’ll fuck you and won’t stop until you’ll think about him at night like he’d broken your heart.

If you clench hard enough, you feel the sensation burn but your muscles give out. Something just quite the bargain should be something that’ll fuel you. Make your eye sockets smolder. You ask for it. “Sp-Spit on me. In my mouth.”

“Shit—you fucking harlot,” there’s a glow to his chest. You almost see where his voice leaves, mouth slack when he’s not speaking; he might as well fucking moan. “Open up, baby.”

You lick your lips before you do, make sure you push on the muscle so it’s more plump, red, enough for him to make a bull’s eye when he spits. Your eyes almost roll back into your head. You can taste him. Warm, hint of mouth wash, but mostly warm, foamy, fucking hot. Your gut twists, and you swear you’ll indulge in the feeling before an orgasm starts at your door. “Nnnggh—Jung—kook,” Bleat.

“Yeah, she likes that, you like that,” he mutters before huffing hard, abdomen contracting even more before he goes silent, save for the tiny pants he gives out. Pays attention, wraps his head around your sounds, more pornographic because the both of you are nearing, and your filter has gone to hell. Your lower extremities have thrown a twitching fit, caught between shutting close and keeping them broad open for him. Your right hand lets free from his assaulted skin, traveling down your front to press down on the pit of your stomach, almost so you can feel his dick moving from outside. He makes a cursed growl when he sees you do so. “Look at you,” he hisses through his teeth’s rattling mettle. If he bites down on them, they’ll break. “You know I love your pussy,” he laughs only for it to get choked into a groan. “Getting it even tighter for me.”

Your attempt at a growl turns into almost a cough, dragging out from the blooming of your chest. You’re hot, convulsing, cells expanding and breaking at the heat. Each twinge is like a snap of thunder. You scrunch your face, choosing to show struggle to hold back over sticking your tongue out with rolled back eyes like a cadaver. “Fucking me so good, it feels so good—,” you choke, body curled at his mercy, trusting and praying to his stamina to throw you over the edge, and he’ll prove success with no fail. You have your eyes closed, but his breaths are hot and hard enough that you can pretend to see it in colour. You can write something entirely about the sounds he makes. There’s a pinch in it, each take for air like a sip of helium. “Jungkook, I’m close,” you pant.

“Yeah? Fuckyeah, give it to me.” Skin slaps. His thighs are aching, but he uses its last against your core, fucking the pair of you over it. He’ll hold it back or come to a release with a strangled groan, so he’ll beg for it like you’re gonna forget. “C-Cum, babe, I’m gonna—cum with you,” he groans, pays heed to every bounce and twinge and buck in your body to get off to.

“Fuuuck—there, there, there—“

“Gonnacum—jesus fuck,” he spasms, digs his hips into yours when he unravels and watches when your body twitches into tune. Almost like an instrument played back on track when your body softens with his and your breaths are evidently loud in the air, mouths parched. “Shit,” he exhales, crashing on you, scorching his face with your body warmth where he buries his head.

It takes seconds for you to remember you hadn’t even pulled off your chemise.

It’s a crisp night. Evidently and especially in a Jeon Corp service limo. Full tinted, glass windows that meet by the sides so the Secretary herself can choose what side of the city to overlook. After all, whatever she sees fit is what Jeon Jungkook gets for her, and that includes an eagle-eye’s peer over the roots of the city on the way home when he feels like he’s fucked her hard enough to tick something off his fetish bucket list—something the majority doesn’t see someone with such a youthful, handsome face as Jungkook’s tending to, but he does, and aces it, too.

You go home with Jeon Jungkook’s blazer over your crumpled chemise, a calculated step off the vehicle like in the films. What you don’t expect is Sang-hyuk, designated driver, handing you another beige bag, similar to where your slip had come from just about an hour ago. You peek in, enough to make out a gaping card with a Wear this next before you even find out what it is.

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emoiprocs · 5 years

Text

mornings

dahyun x reader

fluff

dahyun’s eyes peeked open at the sound of her alarm, blaring from the phone on the bedside table. sun rays shone through the windows, marking the start of the day. unable to get used to the brightness right away, dahyun squinted and turned her head against the light, hand reaching out blindly to grab her phone. with a groan, she turned off the alarm before dragging herself away from the comfort of her bed.

it was a monday, which seemed even more monstrous when you realise that you’ll have to wait five tremendously long days before the weekends come by again.

and like every other student, dahyun would 100% agree with the statement if you asked her two months ago, when her mondays all but consisted of multiple snoozed alarms, tongue-scorching coffee and the overwhelmingly empty feeling from the after high of the weekends. but ever since two months ago, ever since she accepted mr. park’s proposal to tutor you for extra credits, ever since you became part of her monday routine, part of her life, she supposes that mondays are... tolerable, at the very least.

it didn’t take dahyun long to get ready, and soon, with her backpack slung over her right shoulder, coffee in her left hand, she tilted up her glasses as she bid her family goodbye, heading off to catch the bus to school.

the day went by quickly as usual, although dahyun thinks that it would have been better if that boy from the other class with the perfect hair and charming smile stopped following you around and flirting with you. what was his name again? finn? felix? that didn’t matter. what mattered is that he was hitting on you, and dahyun was not happy with that. at all.

you see, dahyun may have this tiny crush on you. well to be fair who doesn’t. you’re probably the prettiest girl in the whole school, to dahyun at least. with your soft eyes that shone with attentiveness when you listened, your adorable pout matching with furrowed eyebrows when you didn’t understand the question, and your lovely personality filled with endless curiosity and selflessness, dahyun loved every part of you. well, maybe minus the fact that you were utterly and hopelessly dense.

ever since she came to the conclusion that she liked you, dahyun had been trying to drop hints here and there. first, she went the old-fashioned way of deliberately let her gaze linger on you and maintaining eye contact while you talked. not surprisingly, you were not aware of her intentions at all. you didn’t even catch her staring at you! therefore, she upped her game and proceeded with another approach of body contact. linking arms? check. holding hands? check. resting chin on your shoulder? check. she even moved to sit next to instead of across from you just so she could lean in to whisper answers in your ear. however, after all that, you still never questioned her sudden skinship towards you. though frustrated by your obliviousness, she didn’t give up and tried all means possible to show her interest in you. she even went as far as to search up corny pick-up lines to use on you. don’t remind her of how awfully cringy those lines were, but at least she got a laugh or two out from you.

yet after all those efforts, you still remained painfully oblivious. fortunately or not, dahyun had never been one to give up easily. with an optimistic mind, she hoped that today would bring some progress.

when dahyun arrived at the school library after classes ended, she was met with the disgusting scene of that boy (felix, she finally remembered), sitting beside you, shamelessly trying to engage you in a conversation. to nice for your own good, you simply nodded at his words with an awkward smile, our gaze never leaving the chemistry book on the table. you were obviously not enjoying his company, judging from your tapping foot and fidgeting hands, and dahyun was more than happy to step in.

‘hey, sorry im late. ready to go?’ with an easy smile, she walked up to the seat across from you, cutting off felix’s boring speech about his family.

‘dahyun!’ you let out a sigh of relief upon her arrival, ‘wait... where are we going? i thought we were gonna study, like usual.’

goddamnit why are you so dense? dahyun thought as she tried to calm down.

quickly composing herself, she started to help you pack your stuff as she said, ‘yeah we’re gonna study, but i found another place we should check out,’ pointedly looking at felix, she added, ‘there’s way less ‘disturbance’ there.’

luckily, you didn’t ask further questions and packed up. you tried to politely excuse yourself from felix, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but before you could, dahyun had already laced her fingers through yours and pulled you away from him.

‘are you mad?’ it wasn’t until you two made it out of the school did you spoke, voice small with a trace of guilt.

‘what? no!’ dahyun immediately stopped in her tracks, tightening her hold as she turned to face you. ‘why would you think that?’

‘you just seemed a bit angry just now... when you talked to felix.’

‘well i was just warding him off from you...’ she replied softly, but got worried when your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. ‘im not reading it wrong, am i. i-i thought you were kinda annoyed with him... aren’t you?’

you seemed caught off guard by her words, mouth opening and closing without a sound. this started to make dahyun nervous. this whole time, could she be flirting with someone who had eyes for another? could it be that you simply have no interest in her at all?

‘im so sorry if i was wrong. if you do like him i-‘

‘no you were right,’ you cut her off. ‘i actually have my eyes on someone else... though im not sure if they like me back.’

‘well um... who are they? if you don’t mind me asking,’ dahyun bit her lip anxiously as she asked.

‘it-it’s you,’ with a voice so soft dahyun barely heard, you replied bashfully. ‘i completely understand if you reject me tho. and i can also talk to mr. park to get me a new tutor if-‘

‘are you kidding me?’ dahyun said with a laugh. ‘i have been flirting with you for the past month! trust me i like you too, very very much.’

she chuckled when she saw how flustered you were, cheeks pink as you struggled to come up with a reply. it was worth it, dahyun decided, it was worth all those hours just to see you in such an adorable state.

‘it’s alright. now i know how dense you really are. we can work on that,’ she said with a wink, making you blush even harder now that you were aware of her intentions. with a bright smile, she pulled you along with her to continue your journey, but not without a few teasing remarks about your obliviousness.

mondays are kind of enjoyable, dahyun supposes, with you by her side.

#twice #dahyun #dahyun x reader #twice dahyun #twice fic #twice scenario

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bbrandy2002 · 5 years

Text

Two Men and a Baby Part 7

Not your typical Royal Romance series....crazier.

TRR/TRH gang.

Warning: Language

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6

@carabeth @emceesynonymroll @katedrakeohd @sirbeepsalot @romanticatheart-posts @rafasgirl23415 @drakensword

[[MORE]]

Part 7

" 911, what's your emergency?"

"Yeah, um, I have a guy in the back of my carriage who got his trouser snake caught in his zipper."

"Sir, is this a joke?"

"No, but, this guy sure wishes it were"

"How serious is this?"

"Let's just say, it was the 'frank..and...beans', then something popped, now its just the frank."

Poor Bertrand, all he wanted was to give his sweet Savannah a wonderful birthday. Now he's stuck in the back of a carriage with his manhood on the line.

He is aware of the news reports of a wild boar attack on Contess Madeleine earlier tonight and that said boar is still holding itself hostage inside his estate. He has no idea if his son is okay, but, has no doubt his brother is somehow responsible for the carnage that has taken place this evening.

Hospital ER

Riley and Olivia sit in Maxwell's room, waiting for him to return from radiology. They had only seen him for a few seconds before he was taken for x-rays, but, he appeared in good spirits; then again, when is he not.

They were both intriqued to find out what he meant by "the demon pig", that supposedly caused his predicament. It was surprising to hear Maxwell describe any animal with such disdain, but, apparently he met one he wasn't prepared to describe as a "life changing experience" in fond terms.

Riley jumped up from her seat, "Maxwell, you're back!"

Maxwell was wheeled back into his room on a stretcher, but, he seemed to be uncharacteristically subdued now.

"How is he? Is it broken?" Riley asked the nurse.

"He has a hair line fracture and will be down for several weeks, but, we don't expect complications. Someone will be in shortly to put a cast on him. Also, congratulations on the baby your majesty", the nurse stated before exiting.

That was the fourth time today a random person congratulated her.

"Why does everyone keep congratulating me on a baby? I wonder if it was the bean burrito I ate for dinner last night?", she questioned while patting her bloated tummy.

"You do look a little puffy today." Olivia observed.

"Thanks", Riley said while rolling her eyes, "I have been trying to drink more water and..."

"HELLLLOO!!" Maxwell interrupted in an annoyed tone, "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm here."

"Oh, I'm sorry Maxwell, how're you feeling?", she asked with concern.

"Like a demon pig attacked me, without warning, without cause, out of no where...it was a sneak attack Riley." he began to shake his fist furiously and yelling, "damn you demon pig.....damn you to hell!"

Olivia and Riley tried to calm him down. "Maxwell, Maxwell, shhhh, you've got to calm down." Riley pleaded, "you're going to disturb the other patients."

"Yes you are", Madeleine chimed from a wheel chair at the door with an icy stare.

All three turned their heads in her direction simultaneously. To see Madeleine sitting there with a neck brace on, a black eye, messy blonde hair and a ripped green dress; it was shocking and amusing to say the least.

"What the hell happened to you? Olivia asked with her signature scowl.

"Oh, what happened to me?", Madeleine asked with a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes while patting her chest, "ask Maxwell and his quote 'damn demon pig'."

Olivia and Riley turned to Maxwell trying to make sense of what both were referring to as the demon pig.

"Maxwell, I'm two seconds away from breaking your other leg. What happened?", Olivia spat out.

Maxwell took in a deep breath and recalled the events of this evening.

"Okay...Okay, so, yesterday morning, I was attending Zeke and Penelope's outdoor animal exhibition in the capitol. Zeke was giving me kind of a private tour before all the guest arrived. We came upon a stall that he said had a wild pig. I thought he meant it was a party animal, wild like me, which, would be an awesome addition to the next Beaumont Bash. I asked if I could have it and he said no, that it was just too wild for me. I thought, nonsense, nothing is too wild for me. I just had to have this pig. So, when I seen Penelope a little later, I offered to buy it from them. She was a little hesitant at first, but, she agreed after I forged a letter from Bastien saying Liam requested this particular pig at the next Beaumont Bash. In exchange for her cooperation, he would emcee her next Dog Fashion Show."

"Maxwell! That's sick", Riley blurted.

"Yeah Maxwell, what made you think she would just go along with that?" Asked Olivia.

"I wasn't sure she would, but, she does seem to respond well to requests from Bastien, so I assumed it would work this time too", he replied.

Madeleine spoke up, "so let me get this straight, Penelope, can't stop talking about her poodles, Penelope, just gave you a wild boar?"

"Oh, no, I had to pay for him", he said.

"How much?" Olivia asked.

"A box of dog treats", he replied.

Riley bent over in her chair, arms resting on her knees, covering her face while shaking her head, "Unbelievable....I'm afraid to ask, but, how did you get him out of there and to the estate?"

"Well, that part was tricky. Penelope told me I had to keep him enclosed or he would go wild. Well, I wanted to make sure I kept his wildness in until the Beaumont Bash. I figured it would just build up inside of him and he'd really let loose at the party", he chuckled, "anyway, I saw Gladys there and thats when I got the idea for her to cause a disruption..."

"Hold up, Gladys...my majordomo, Gladys, helped you with this?" Riley asked stunned.

"Kind of, see I knew she had cleared the hallways when Anton and his minions kidnapped you and Olivia. I also knew she had the hot's for Bertrand, so, I told her if she would create a distraction for me, I would set her up with him".

"Maxwell, your brother is engaged", Riley stated.

"You are a lot more evil than I ever gave you credit for Maxwell; this is really elaborate for you", Olivia remarked with astonishment.

"Well, Im not proud of myself, but, greed causes people to do evil things" he replied.

"Hold up" Madeleine would interject, "So Penelope knew about this? That little....I just saw her not more than an hour ago at the Beaumont Estate, she interviewed me and everything, she never mentioned her hand in any of this".

Maxwell replied, "I would say not, Penelope's a master at keeping secrets while seemingly innocent of her involvement. She's a sweet girl though".

Riley just continued to shake her head.

"What happened next Maxwell?" Madeleine asked.

He took another deep breath, "Okay, well Gladys started screaming and running around the exhibits. Then she unlatched the pen holding the ducks. They started to scatter. Zeke and his assistants started to chase after the ducks and security went after Gladys. I grabbed a large cage and Gertrude ran right in. Penelope helped me carry him back to the limo and I took him home."

"Okay, how did you break your leg?" Riley asked.

"Welp, the driver helped me unload Gertrude and get him in the backyard. I knew I had to build an enclosure to keep his wildness in, so, I started building a small barn for him to live in until the bash. It didn't take very long to build at all. When it was finished, I opened the cage door to let him inside his new dwellings, but, he ran inside and immediately jumped out the window."

"You put a window in it?" Madeleine questioned.

"Yeah, but, I must've not built it high enough and I didn't put a covering over it. Jumped right out of it" he said while use his hand to motion the jump, "I started to run right after, I swear, I heard it say 'kill Maxwell'. It attacked so quickly, I never had a chance. I stepped on a rock and my foot went sideways, causing me to fall. It rammed me a few times, before running off. Then Drake came out to help me, but, it attacked him also. Let's just say, demon pig-2, Maxwell and Drake-0."

All three women sat in silence. There were no words they could think of in that moment to express what they just heard.

"Does Bertrand and Savannah know about this?" Riley asked.

"I don't think so", he replied.

Riley took out her phone and sent a text, letting them know Maxwell was in the hospital and Bartie was there with Drake.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom....

Drake and Liam were still locked in arms, literally, fighting over an ascot.

"Let go of my ascot Drake."

"Liam, he has to have something covering his bottom until we get a diaper."

"Then give him your denim shirt!"

"What?" Drake gasped, "take it back Liam."

Bartie, who was still lying on the changing table naked, took this opportunity to settle the issue once and for all.

"What the hell!" Drake shouted as his denim shirt was getting soaked.

"Sir Walker, I do believe you have a spot on your shirt", Liam said with a British accent and a laugh.

Drake looked at Liam, "I hope you're happy now. He just pissed all over my good denim shirt."

Liam raised an eyebrow, "Drake, that's the only denim shirt you have, or wear for that matter."

"Why do you think it's my favorite?" he remarked sadly.

Bastien cleared his throat, "Your majesty, need I remind you, we can't leave this bathroom with a naked baby. It may be in everyone's interest for you to hand over the ascot."

Liam thought about Bastien's words for a moment, then looked around to see if there was anything else that could be used as a diaper. Wadded up hand towels, too flimsy, Drakes white shirt, no, he would just be shirtless in a hospital, his own socks, no, too small. He let out a loud huff, reached up and removed his ascot.

Drake reached out to grab it, but, Liam continued to cling onto it. Drake pulled harder, Liam pulled back even more.

"Give me the fucking ascot Liam!"

Liam pouted then handed Drake the ascot.

Drake looked Liam in the eyes and said, "Dude, you need therapy."

Drake began fashioning a diaper out of Liam's ascot. "Aha, perfect fit".

"What do we do about that disgusting car seat?" Liam asked.

"After all this, just leave it in here. When Bastien opens the door, we make a run for it."

Drake picked up Bartie and he and Liam stood at the door, readying themselves for the getaway. The bathroom was absolutely disgusting, shit was on the floor, the walls, the trash can, not to mention, the sink had an exploded diaper full of diarrhea in it. Liam couldn't risk someone seeing the King of Cordonia coming out of that room.

"Alright, on my count, Bastien will open the door and we will run as fast as we can."

"Hang on", Liam said as he removed his suit jacket and covered the top of his head so no one would recognize him. "Okay, ready".

"There's no turning back now. 1...2...3...Go!"

What hijinx await in Part 8?

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delicrieux · 5 years

Photo

pairing: kane x f!mc

fandom: playchoices, the elementalists

summary: she joins him.

warnings: uh… age gap i guess??

words: 2.8k (and i oop-)

author’s note: i thanos snapped. so a lot of people wanted to join kane so im giving that chance now with a dash of good old fashioned manipulation and sum romance. is kane still the villain? oh yea. does he actually like the mc?? up to you. i left this on a very pb like dramatic cliffhanger. will most likely not have a continuation unless TE disappoints me again lol ALSO! i recommend reading foreverland first.

tags: @tilliesmarshall - @somegdchoices - @lastfirstcupcake - @peach-space -@magicpijama - @zodiacsign1

feedback is always appreciated xoxo

masterlist | buy me coffee☕

Weeks passed and there was no word of him, not a hushed whisper in the night, or even a gentle caress of spring wind in the morning. He had faded into smoke, melted into the world, into everything and nothing, and she couldn’t feel his presence and it frightened her more than she could admit. Her friends talked and joked and even Atlas came around to the idea of their mother – it is no doubt due to (Name)’s perseverance and exuberant energy – and her grades were up and all was just so swell except that he was missing. She knew she warned him against writing; she knew that showing himself would be terribly stupid. Yet she still expected him to just pop out from a corner one day and swoop her into his arms while they laughed and the whole world was nothing but chaos around them. That didn’t happen.

Nothing happened. She began to wonder was their encounter that night even real.

And then one morning she awoke early, too early, in a perplexed dream state that urged her to leave the dorm. The sun was rising, golden-orange and pretty, and her room was glowing in gentle spring colours, warm, soft, the contours of it blurry, misty even. In clumsy, sleepy steps and rubbing her eyes she stalked to her door, opening it, intending to get a glass of water, though as she stepped through the threshold a deep, inky darkness greeted her, and tiles were replaced by tall tickling grass and the night held two alien moons in it. The air was fresh and a breeze danced around her unruly, playful, familiar, though seemingly ancient. She stood at the foot of a hill, a faraway figure sitting at the very top watching the stars. (Name)’s heart jumped to her throat and she climbed closer, though she was slow and heavy as if someone was forcing her away.

But in the twin moonlight she saw the stranger’s face. Disbelieve washed over her like a freezing wave of seawater. The woman resembled her and Atlas, her eyes, melancholic and dazed, gazed somewhere beyond this world. She did not see (Name) standing just ways below and her lips moved softly, her voice carried by the wind, “You absolute fool, wayward.” Her voice struck cord within (Name), “I cannot believe you would…do such terrible things. I almost do not want to believe them.” Theia tilted her head down to the earth she sat on, her gaze forlorn and her hand moving to touch the grass, “I almost don’t, old friend. “ A ghost of a smile played on her lips for the briefest moment before her face scrunched into worry, “I was going to tell you. Someday. I figured I had all the time in the world to do so, but I suppose that I…” She trailed off, “I saw…I know…I…One day you will meet two very beautiful and capable women. A day far far away from now. I don’t know how, or why, or if my visions are true, but you will. And once you do I want you to remember this. And I want you to promise me that you will do everything in your power to protect them. To never hurt them. And to bring them back to me.”

The wind blew past, ruffling her hair, as if in response to her request. Teary eyed she smiled, and her smile could have rivalled that of the sun, “You are the last person I should trust with this, Hurricane. But you are the only one I do.”

(Name) blinked and she found herself in her dorm, standing still by the couches, the clock ticking in her ears. She looked around, heart hammering in her chest, sweat collecting on her forehead, yet there was nothing that resembled her dream. Her mother’s face lingered in memory before it too became a ghastly blur. Just her voice, bell like and endlessly pleasant, foretold of …what? A prophecy? It was a silly thing to believe, but did she have a choice in the matter? She decided to tell Atlas once the girl awakes.

But something kept her from opening her mouth. At breakfast she stole glances at her sister, and she appeared as indifferent as she always did. And as their group was leaving, the last group to exit, and her friends continued onwards while she glanced back behind her, confusion making her frown. In her seat sat a letter which’s parchment she could not mistake for anyone else’s. She smiled with an exhale of bated breath, quickly exclaiming how she forgot something and rushed back before the doors closed. It sounded fake to her the reasoning. But no one suspected anything. Not now, nor when she came back from foreverland, either.

She hid the letter in her room and hid it well and continued her day as if nothing happened.

All went wrong in evening.

(Name) pales at the sight – Shreya stands tall and angry, her hands grasping Kane’s letter, eyes set ablaze from hate. She holds the letter up and (Name)’s eyes follow it, “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.” Her voice is of contained anger, hot and harsh. (Name)’s expression must betray her because Shreya drops the letter onto the coffee table bitterly, crosses her arms over her chest, “I knew it.” She states, “I knew there was something wrong. I knew it since you came back from ‘clearing your head’. I knew you were hiding something, but this…” She shakes her head, momentarily struck by sadness, “I thought we’re friends. I thought you trust us…Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Shreya—“

“I get it. You know, I get it. He’s charming. And powerful. And yeah, he could use a makeover or ten, but I get the appeal.” She continues as if not hearing her name being called, “But he’s dangerous. And he’s vile and wicked and he is using you.”

(Name) holds her hands up in defence, successfully shushing her worried friend, “It looks really bad, I’m aware. But please listen to me. He’s really…not what you think he is.” Her eyes travel to the letter, a small, fond smile slipping on her lips as she takes a seat on the couch. Shreya continues to watch her, “He’s silly. And he likes to laugh. And he tells me the truth. He is the only one that tells me the truth.”

“He is manipulating you, you absolute dumbass.” Shreya cries in frustration, plopping down next to her, grabbing the letter and waving it in front of her eyes, “He is trying to turn you against us. Did you forget that he invaded the school? Nearly choked our professors? Hurt Atlas? Did he magickally forget to explain himself for all of that, or did you wilfully chose to ignore it?”

“He made a mistake. I know. But it’s different for him. Shreya he is…not of this world. Alma isn’t, either. You think she would think twice about enabling someone if they got in her way? They are something different all together. They see the world differently. They see the bigger picture.”

“Then don’t involve yourself with them. Either of them. They both give me the creeps.” She adds, more to herself.

“All Alma has done is frighten us. She forbade me to learn illusionary magick and she made me practice Blood magick in order to save Atlas because she almost killed her.” (Name) catches Shreya’s gaze, locks it fiercely.

“But Kane isn’t a valid option.” Shreya’s hands land on (Name)’s, squeezing softly, her eyes struck with worry, “I’ve seen that look before. You used to look at…” She whispers a name, near breathless, glancing away, “…the same way. And I’m not stupid. I know this runs deeper than friendship.”

“I…” (Name)’s voice dies in her throat, her odd dream resurfacing, “I think we…I think we were meant to meet.”

She tells Shreya of the morning she awoke to find herself trapped within a memory. Of how she saw her mother perched atop of the hill, telling stories of times that were and times that will be. All the while Shreya listened saying nothing. Her eyes were guarded and anxious and she had trouble believing it was not just another trick meant to weaken (Name). Alas, she caved in with a sigh and shoved the letter into (Name)’s hands.

“Open it.” She mutters and notes how (Name) smiles gratefully at her, fingers working quickly to peel off the wax. Shreya watches over the girl’s shoulder before she falls back into the couch, disappointed. (Name) glances at her, “Can’t read it. The letters swim.” She comments bitterly.

“Oh…” is all (Name) utters dumbly, “Guess he was serious when he said he doesn’t like sharing.”

“What?!”

-*-

The game of Thief was going great, as great as it can go faced with such a competent albeit pompous foe. One second the world was ablaze and she was having trouble breathing, ash dyeing her skin grey, as Griffin shouted commands, Zeph laughed somewhere hidden, the enemy team’s flag safe in her grasp. But then the scenery morphed and momentarily she was short of breath; the fire and the scorching air turned damp and cool and gravel stuck to her skin.

The sky is dark here, where ever this is, and she quickly jumps on her feet, on guard, ready to defend or attack – depends on what kind of game the Frost King deems necessary to play. But something is…off. She turns around and the fields sway from wind like sea at midnight. The road to nowhere continues onward into ambiguity, swallowed by fog. Though in her line of vision she sees a silhouette, one that approaches in a lazy step and she already knows who it is. Kane emerges from the mist like a wayward God, powerful and breath-taking. For a heartbeat she thinks it is an illusion; twisted, sinister, made to confuse her and she tightens her hold on the flags. But then an idea dawns onto her: she knows of no one perfect at illusionary magick from the Gildegraive’s team, nor should they know of who Kane is. She exhales unevenly, her heart jumping to her throat from excitement.

She is, despite the misconception, not an idiot. He would not pluck her from a game, even if he desired to see her so desperately, and the look in his eyes – violet, gem-esque, so pretty – betrays of something, though what she only has a hunch of. She knows why she is here and strangely enough she does not mind, “You need it.” She says before he can open his mouth. “The Sun Crystal.”

Normally he is easier to read, or perhaps he built that image for her, though now she is unable to know what he is thinking. Perhaps it is her new found taste for the finer, grander things, or the ever present want for a bit of mischief, or maybe she finally realises just how powerful she is, but she gives him a smile, feathery and genuine, “I’ll get it.” She says in a sing like tone, making him freeze, “I’ll get the Sun Crystal for you. That’s why I’m here, aren’t I? You didn’t even send an invitation.” She wags her finger at him, “Tsk-tsk-tsk. Naughty.”

To her relief he laughs, “You are too clever for your own good, (Name).” When he composes himself, a proud smile curls on his lips and he motions for her to approach him, which in a spring, quick step she does, “Though I must admit, I figured we are past proper invitations.” She falls into his embrace, and he hugs her tightly, “That would be…entirely too predictable, no?”

She tilts her head upwards, locks his gaze with her own, “If you think I will ask you to take me out to the movies, you are entirely mistaken.” She leans in, captures his lips in a teasing kiss, “That would be no fun.”

“No, no fun at all.”

“They will know I disappeared, though.” She lectures as they break apart, which she is not entirely fond of, “You picked a terrible time.”

He hooks a loose strand of hair over her ear, pinching her chin playfully, “You are the master of illusions now. Or have you not been practicing? Tsk-tsk-tsk. Naughty.” Her cheeks flare up with heat, and her throat shakes, mind drawing blank. She glares at him and he laughs again, with his arm motioning to the vast fields, “All yours, my dear.”

She has doubted herself many times. She has questioned her choices, though all of that seemed to change quite a while ago. While she can’t pin point when did this confidence started to grow within her, she feels none of her previous dark thoughts clouding her mind. With a steady breath she locates her magick – the sun, so foreign in this bleak, eerie place – and it glows within her, seeps through her skin, smells like flowers and pollen mixing with light summer breeze. Her eyes close and she concentrates, imagines herself, her every quirk, every awkward smile, every languid movement. And when she opens her eyes again, a mirror image of her stands just ways away, the resemblance uncanny and if not for the blank look trapped within her eyes (Name) would think that Atlas jumped into this world wearing a different hairdo.

(Name) looks at Kane, who regards her clone mildly impressed, seizes her up and down for any errors. (Name) smacks his chest; he raises a brow, “…Jealous?” He asks amused.

“In your dreams, Hurricane.” She misses the slight narrow of his eyes at the nickname, now focusing back on the illusion, “Can you…send her-me-…it back?” Her simulacrum is gone with a snap of his fingers. She turns to him, frowning as he watches her with an inquisitive gaze, “What?”

“Why did you call me that?”

All the tension in the air seems to dissipate and she feels a bit like her old self again, energetic and giddy, “Oh! Well, about that, I actually had this really weird dream about my mom and stuff and she was calling you all sorts of names like Wayward and Hurricane and I guess it just slipped my mind is all.” She explains in one breath making him snort. She stops to catch her breath, now thoughtful, “She also mentioned that…she knew you were going to meet me. And Atlas. Us both.”

“Ah.” He nods in agreement, his arm snaking around her waist and pulling her closer, “I do recall Theia and her prophecies. Most of them were laughably untrue. Though…This one…Always had the feeling it was destined to happen.” He finishes in a lower, honey-coated tone.

“Then…does that mean--?”

“Yes. We are unavoidable.”

This time he kisses her and her eyes shut obediently, overtaken by his raw desire and the scorching heat of his touch. The world goes in vertigo; the air contorts from cold to warm and fragrant; instead of harsh gravel she feels feather-soft sheets tickle her skin pleasantly, his weight resting atop her. Her hands run in his hair and his hat yet again helplessly falls off, forgotten somewhere by the foot of the bed in this unfamiliar, dream-esque place. His lips roam to the side of her jaw, then her neck, and her eyes snap open as her whole body tingles. The ceiling spins and bites her tongue when he finds a particularly sensitive spot. She can feel him smile, enjoying this perhaps too much. Her fingers tug on his locks and he releases a sound that is low and dangerous and boundlessly delicious.

“The game will end soon.” She reminds, breathless, alluring, arching into his touch like a helpless flower. He merely hums against her skin, not too interested, “Do you want the crystal or not?” She wonders aloud, if only to tease him.

“I want you.”

He halts his movements suddenly, and fear stills her beating heart: had he taken her taunting seriously? She almost wants to whine, but when he finds her gaze his eyes twinkle with mirth, “Alas, you are a terrible tease.” He whispers, his lips grazing the side of her cheek, “Don’t take too long.”

She is plunged yet again as if into water, and her body goes in shivers once she finds herself back at Perderghast, terribly confused and undeniably hot. Irritation picks at the back of her throat in bitterness, yet time is of the essence, and he always was impulsive. She falls into step, at first somewhat slow and then picks up pace, lastly rushing to the Sun-Att classroom with a wicked grin. She wonders if her friends had figured out that the one occupying her spot is nothing but an illusion, or had it already melted? Will they be angry? Will they laugh? She would laugh. Then again, she had acquired a bizarre sense of humour recently.

She reaches the classroom and throws the door open, stumbling in and shielding her eyes from the blinding light. Her smile is immediately wiped from her face.

“Alma?” She questions, uncertain at first, her eyes narrowing with suspicion at the looming figure of the Blood Source watching (Name) with a displeased, ruthless look, “What are you doing here?”

thank you for reading! xx

35 notes · View notes

coastalhorrors · 6 years

Text

Okay, Well Thats Not Good

RECIPIENT #32 FROM THE @oumasaiexchange IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE. I hope I wrote this well enough for your liking, again I am so Very sorry.

Words: 1,876

“Hey Cockichi, stop daydreaming of pegging that lame excuse for a detective and help us with this project.”

Kokichi glared at Miu, dodging her foot from under the table. “What the hell do you idiots need help with now?”

“We're missing a piece”, Tsumugi said digging through a box of screws and bolts. “Well, not so much missing, just already been used.” She tipped the box over, spilling the contents all over the carpeted floor and herself, searching for the piece. Failing to find it ultimately.

Rantaro peaked over her shoulder, picking lightly through the pieces, “We'll also need a few of the larger screws, the base cant handle support with only the small ones.”

“Okay yeah, but I can't just pull screws out of my ass y'know.” Kokichi replied. Miu turned back to him, and if dropping hot coffee on yourself could be conveyed in a single expression, she was succeeding immensely.

“You're gonna have to go down to my workshop, there are more screws in there.”

Tsumugi looked up from her pile of bolts and screws, “Grab another screwdriver too please, Rantaro’s hogging the last one.” Rantaro flicked one of the screws he was messing with towards her in response, sticking his tongue out but keeping his face emotionless.

That was the last he saw of there conversation before he was pushed out of the Ultimate Adventurers room with Miu's keys in hand. He stood there for a second and rolled his eyes, slowly slothing his way to the workshop.

Miu's workshop was below all the main dorm levels, very much relatable to a basement, so much in fact if you include the useless junk that lined the many shelves and the weird molding smell. He twirled the keys in his hand as he made his way down the stairs, the lights illuminating the ceilings, dimming as he got lower and lower.

The cold, grey door came into view and he readied the keys to unlock it, stopping the spinning and suddenly, everything was happening at once.

The keys flew from his loose grip, up towards the dim flickering light above, completely shattering the glass. He raised his arms up quickly as dust and shattered glass rained from above him, some of the glass fell straight onto his exposed hands and broke the skin, leaving a heavy stinging sensation and tiny blood splotches.

‘Fuck’, he thought, bringing his hands down to witness the damage done to his body, only to come face to face with nothing. Of course, he had smashed the light. He mentally smacked himself.

Kokichi was at a loss for what to do next, there was no light, which meant he wouldn't be able to find the keys to Miu's workshop, which meant he wouldn't be able to turn on that light, and even if he did find the keys, he doubted it'd go without any harm done to him with all the glass staining the floor.

He moved his hands in front of him experimentally, reaching towards the staircase railing. Stepping forward slightly, he was glad he had his shoes on before he was kicked out of Rantaro’s room. The glass crunched under him as he made his way towards what he hoped was the direction of the stairs, waving his hands around. He finally felt the lumpy rounded shape of the rail and lifted his foot, setting it down on a stair.

Kokichi let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and stepped up again. It was a slow process, making his way up the stairs towards some sort of light.

‘Probably shouldn't be dragging my hand over this dirty thing,’ he thought, slowly stepping again, he'd probably get some sort of disease, who knows when the last time this stairwell was cleaned.

A light finally appeared at the top of the stairs, near the peak of the doorway. Letting go of the rail he took a larger step up the stairs and another, and then another one. Reaching the door he swung it open and stepped into the bright hallway. He squinted at the harsh light hitting his face, raising a hand to shield his eyes.

A soft familiar voice came from down the hallway, and he cursed himself. “Kokichi? What're you doing down here?” He lowered his hand a bit, hiding it at an angle behind him, the last thing he needed right now was to be coddled by the person he'd probably wanted to see the least of right now.

“Oh Shuichi, I can't believe you caught me! I'm afraid I can't tell you what I'm up to you see, it's top secret.” He put a finger to his lips with his other hand, placing a grin on his face.

Shuichi cocked his head, his slumpy hair falling over his face in a way that made Kokichi’s heart stutter and his smile falter.

“What's that? Behind your back I mean.” Shuichi pointed towards his hidden arm, attempting to peer over Kokichi’s shoulder to see what he was hiding, stepping forward a little to get a better look.

Kokichi set his hand down by his side and dropped his smile, stepping back, he could feel the hand behind him pulsing with pain as he moved. He probably shouldn't have done that, the slumpy haired boy in front of him raised an eyebrow. Experimentally, he stepped forward again.

Maybe he'd go away if he just kept stepping back. He thought, or maybe he'd reach the end of the hallway and would be able to run away to the other side. He stepped back again. Shuichi stepped forward. Back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back and then back again. Dead end. Stupid school with its idiotic layout.

A small, hollow space found itself fitting uncomfortable between the two boys, as they paused for a moment. Shuichi's face was contorted, eyebrows scrunched together and worried eyes staring straight into him. Kokichi wished he could be anywhere else right now, anywhere else but in front of the person who made his heart quit its job. He tried moving a bit to the side and hissed violently when his injured hand scraped the solid wall.

That seemed to be too much for Shuichi. His worried gaze turned concentrated in a millisecond, going from straight staring to intent searching. “Kokichi…”, he said carefully, there was a slight warning in his tone. It made him panic. Voice laced with silk and venom, Kokichi didn't know what else to do. He seemed at a loss this time. He delicately moved his hand out from behind his back and into the open.

Shuichi gasped upon seeing his hand, eyes trained on it carefully, memorizing every cut and scrape disturbing his ghostly white skin. He reached out carefully, grazing his pale skin, then, with both hands lightly pulling his wrist closer so he could see. Kokichi wrinkled his nose and grimaced, peering through half-shut eyes down at his injured hand.

It was easy to see the damage that had been done, broken skin spidering across the pale surface, like shattered ice on top of a seemingly endless pond. Shuichi seemed to be entranced by the thin strands, watching intensely as a red drop of blood trailed down his thumb and falling to the greyscale floor.

Shuichi spoke slowly but carefully, he like that about Shuichi; always considering things. “What… happened?” His grip tightened around his wrist just a little.

“Funny story actually! I uh…” Nothing came to him, “Broke a lightbulb!” Fuck. Shuichi's eyes widened. He probably wasn't expecting the truth from him this time.

“Come with me.” He said gently but sternly pulling Kokichi’s hand along. Kokichi followed obediently and almost immediately became aware of how close they were. He tripped over his feet as soon as he thought that. Shuichi was practically holding his hand! ‘Oh god, Shuichi is holding my hand. He's holding my hand and taking me somewhere.’ Part of him hoped they were going to a secret place, somewhere far away from everyone else.

But no, he knew they were probably going to the office or to the bathroom to clean up his cuts. He felt a pang of disappointment in his chest just thinking about that. Suddenly Shuichi stopped and he fell straight into his back. A scent of peppermint and coffee filled Kokichi’s senses, and if he were religious, he could've sworn that this was heaven. But he was soon pulled out of his pseudo comatose state and brought back to reality.

He heard a door click open and was dragged into what was probably paradise for a teachers' pet. ‘Or, he thought, a detective.’ Open books and various loose papers were thrown haphazardly across nearly every surface in the small room, which he now realized as a dorm room. Shuichi's room to be exact.

Quickly, he was pulled onto a messy blanketed bed and was told to stay there while Shuichi grabbed some first aid supplies. Kokichi got the chance to look around a little more. He could see pen markings and scribbly markings on thick packets full of what he assumed to be case reports or assorted assignments. There were small scratches on the walls, looking to be from thrown objects. Kokichi never knew Shuichi to be an angry person, but he guessed Kaito does come around from time to time.

Kokichi was thrown out his thoughts when Shuichi came back and sat on the bed next to him, bandages and other nursing objects in hand. He got started on his hand, rolling bandage, over bandage, so calmly it was almost mesmerizing. Kokichi hadn't noticed how much his hand seemed to miss the other boys until they were reunited, they seemed to fit so well together, they could fit so well together.

Kokichi felt his face heat up and his hand twitch. “Hold still.” Shuichi said, shifting to get a better grip on his hand. Kokichi mumbled a half-hearted sorry, his face still a peachy shade. As Shuichi bandaged him up and cleaned his small wounds, Kokichi found himself getting drowsy, there was something so calming about Shuichi that just put him at ease.

He didn't remember falling asleep. All Kokichi knew was that he never wanted to leave the warmth that was enveloping him right now. He took a few deep breaths, taking the moment in stride and smelt something familiar. He was surrounded by ground coffee and the welcoming scent of mint leaves.

Wait.

Kokichi’s eyes shot wide open, but he couldn't see. His eyes were obstructed by something fluffy and black. The hair moved and he saw a patch of pale skin under it, along with a set of closed eyes. ‘Shuichi,’ he thought, ‘oh my god I'm in Shuichi's bed.’ That got him going.

Kokichi attempted to get out from under the arm thrown over his waist, shimmying out shaking. Shuichi mumbled something in his sleep, that made him stop and pause. He looked over at the peaceful looking boy. Black hair strewn about all over his face, framing it like the night sky. It frustrated him to no end, how beautiful the boy he had fallen for was. He frowned

Miu's screws could wait, sleeping a little longer was what mattered now

#oumasaiexchange #my writing #i hope you like this im so sorry

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lovemesomesurveys · 6 years

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Would you consider yourself smart? I feel like I’m average. When do you want to move out of your parents house? I have no plans to for the foreseeable future. I like living at home with them and it’s best for me, especially right now. Do you have a curfue? No, I’m 29 years old. We never had to set one for me, though. I really didn’t do much in terms of going out with friends and such as a teenager. Have you ever written a fanfic? Yes. Is there anything made of plastic around you right now? A couple of water bottles.

Is your alarm clock just a normal one, or is it some sort of animal? I use my phone. Have you ever spit into a pot of soup and then watched people eat it? W T F??? Tattoos or piercings? Meh. Can you see any pennies from where you’re sitting? Nope. What about picture frames? Yes. What instruments do you have in your house? A guitar. Have you ever had ants ruin your picnic? Never had a picnic. What’s the last gross movie/show/video you saw? Hm. I don’t recall. Would you rather live in a huuuge house or a little cozy one? One just big enough for 4 adults and a dog. I don’t need an unnecessarily huge house. The music on the radio: good or bad? I haven’t listened to the radio in a long time.

Have you ever heard the saying ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder’? Yeah.

Do you believe that? I think it can, but it can also do the opposite.

Whose the last person you IMed? I haven’t IMed anyone in years.

Do they have a girlfriend/boyfriend?

Have you ever dated this person?

Do you understand Shakespear plays? Yeah, generally. The ones I had to read, anyway.

Did you end your last relationship, or him/her? He did.

How many times are on your MSN/AIM? I haven’t used AIM since 2009. It’s dead now.

Have you ever blow dried something other then your hair? Yeah, a textbook that got wet and a shirt.

Name a friend whose middle name begins with A: *shrug*

What is your favorite piece of equipment at gyms? I don’t go to the gym.

Would you ever name your daughter Kimberly? I don’t plan on having kids.

Do you know what fb stands for? Facebook?

Do you have a tutor for anything? No.

Are you old enough to get a job? Yeah, I’m certainly old enough.

Do you understand what you’re doing in math class lately? I’m done with school, thus done with math thank goodness.

Do you wear cardigans? Nah.

Does your sibling(s) have braces? Not anymore.

How many times do you think you have th What happened to the question?

How many photo albums are in your house? A few.

How many photo albums do you have on myspace? I haven’t used Myspace in several years, so I don’t recall.

Are you the type of person who has a new boyfriend/girlfriend every week?

HA, no. I’ve been single for years. I haven’t even been talking to or been interested in anyone in like 4 years.

Are you nice to your siblings(s)? Yes.

Do you think relationships are a waste of time? No.

Who’s the best kisser you know? Joseph was.

Isn’t Pearl such an old people’s name? “its such a whale’s name” <<<< Hahahah.

Do you get embarrassed when you pay for things in all small change? I avoid doing that, yes.

Have you ever stayed friends with someone who stabbed you in the back? Yes.

Do you ever go for walks just for fun? No. Definitely not my idea of fun.

Are you always tired? Yes.

Do you count the calories you eat? I kinda have been lately because I need to be eating high calorie foods.

Have you ever had a secret admirer? Not that I’m aware of.

Do you have one right now? Again, not that I’m aware of. I really, really doubt that, though.

Has anyone ever given you the silent treatment? No.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever had in your mouth? Uhh.

Are you friends with anyone named Earl? No.

Are you vain? No. I’m very self-conscious.

Has anyone ever threatened you with a knife? No.

What would you do if the last person you kissed showed up at your house with a bunch or roses and a hand written poem for you? Wow. That would be super unexpected and out of the blue... I don’t know. I’d be really confused.

(If you’re a girl) Has anyone ever called you 'shortie’ instead of girl? Yes.

Do you ever watch The Simpsons? No.

Have you ever sent an embarrassing moment of yours into a mag to be printed? No.

What IS your most embarrasing moment? Blah.

What’s the last thing to make you scream? I probably saw a bug.

Do your parents knock before coming in, or just barge on in? My door is open except for when I go to bed.

Do you think you’re more cute or sexy? I don’t feel I’m either.

Do you own any mini skirts? No.

What’s the middle name of the last person you spoke to? Nah.

Would you like to live in a hotel, or your own house? My own house.

Are you good at knowing when people are lying? Usually.

Do you draw little hearts and stuff with eyeliner next to your eyes? No.

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever lost? Nothing expensive, thankfully.

Has your mom ever lied to you? Yes, but not in a way to hurt me.

Do you have a deep voice? No.

When’s the last time someone made breakfast for you? My dad did earlier.

Do you do something new with your hair practically every day? No. It’s always just up in a pony tail.

When someone knocks on the door, who do you think it is? FedEx/UPS.

Name a song your addicted to: I’m not addicted to any songs.

Has anyone ever licked your foot? EW, no.

Do you play games with boys/girls, like 'hard to get’? I’ve played dumb games like that, yes.

Has a guy ever quoted a romantic Shakespear line to you? Lol no.

When’s the last time someone told you they were in love with you? Not since my first boyfriend (and only, technically).

Is there a Sonic where you live? Yes.

Do you smile with your teeth? No.

What did you eat for lunch today? I haven’t had lunch, yet.

What do you like on your pizza? Depends where I’m getting the pizza from, but generally just cheese. There’s one pizza place I like where I get cheese, crumbled meat balls, garlic, and pesto drizzle.

Do you know anyone who lives in Newfoundland? No.

How 'bout Alberta? No.

Anyone in Canada at all? Hi, Lane!

If you could trade houses with a friend, who would it be? I wouldn’t.

Are you a good person to come to for advice? I used to be. Not anymore.

Was this an interesting survey? :D Sure.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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praydastles · 7 years

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Title: Needle and thread Fandom: Monsta X Member: I.M/Changkyun Genre/Warning: Kinktober,angstish?, smut, dom!changkyun, belt! Summary/Request: Day 23 corset and against the wall A/N: Gif credit to FY!Wonkyun Lord does he look like sin. I didn’t mention the corset much, but oh well?? Also, the boys call Changkyun ‘im’ as in his surname, not as in i.m :) Word Count: 4231

Changkyun fiddled with his tie, tightening it as he stared at himself in the mirror. Suit’s weren’t really his forte; spending most of his time holed up in his box apartment usually meant loose sweatpants and sometimes a shirt depending on how hot it was, yet there he stood, velvet detailed blazer, open white shirt, fitted dress pants, shiny shoes, he was different from head to toe, even his brown hair parted neatly.

“Here goes nothing.” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and house keys before making his way out of his suite toward the company car waiting to take him to the venue.

It was the annual meeting for all the bosses to discuss the profit made, what assets to keep, get rid of, boring details smoothed over drinks and usually women. The sky was dark, stars blocked out by dark clouds, the only light shining on Changkyuns face coming from the overhead lights streaming through his windows.

“Who chose Paris?” Changkyun drawled, shutting his eyes and resting his head back against the seat.

“That would be Mr Yoo, sir. The word is that he’s managed to gain assets here.” Changkyun’s eyes shot open, a frown taking on his features. “He’s branching out to Europe? Hm, that’s interesting. God, he’s gonna gloat about that tonight.”

“I’d be willing to bet on it sir.” The driver said with a laugh.

***

The interior was an unexpected sight, considering the outside resembled ruins of an old aged castle. The walls were a deep royal purple, lights nailed to the wall and casting calming glows. The flooring was lined with a thick carpet at the entrance, stairs leading down to italian leather seats placed accordingly in their own sections, giving guests a view of the stage of what was apparently a jazz club.

“Your party is upstairs on the balcony sir.” Changkyun nodded and walked past the man when he had lifted the rope for him to enter and then went up the stairs, in brief darkness before he came out onto the balcony overlooking everything.

“I’m glad to see you’re alive.” Jooheon was the first to greet him, a drink already in his hand and a woman already on his lap.

“That makes two of us.” Changkyun said greeting his friend.

The others joined not long after, Kihyun already smirking with his glass of scotch about his latest business deal. “Do you know how much I’m worth now?”

“Won’t be worth much if you’re chewing my bullet Yoo Kihyun.” Hyungwon said slumping into his chair, tilting his head challengingly at Kihyun whose smirk was quick to disappear. Changkyun could tell Kihyun was about to quip his own snide remark, but Hyunwoo slapped his large palms down onto his thighs, “Let’s talk business then.”

The following hours were boring, Changkyun never really enjoyed these formal meetings. And his eyes began to drift toward the stage filled with spotlight on a woman. The slow jazz made you more tantalising as you began to move along to the music, hands gently holding the mic stand as you rolled your head back and around sensually, eyes barely open as you drew in the attention of every man and woman in the audience.

Changkyun felt his throat tighten when your lips fell open for the first of the notes to leave your lips, your voice smooth and low, yet holding power and soul as you began to move more with your words. His eyes following your hands that caressed your body; slow and teasing as you lifted the mic from the stand and slowly strutted along the stage. Changkyun felt entrapped by the vision of you, something chemical like making the rest of the world fade and his thighs tense, body on edge and incredibly warm. The only thing he seemed acutely aware of was you.

Your eyes suddenly found his and Changkyun stiffened, thinking it impossible for you to see him up there, but the longer he watched you the less he was convinced. You dropped low, legs spreading and knees hitting the stage as you leant your body back to release the last long note and Changkyun’s breath ceased watching how your body twisted, your corset tight against your waist, body seemingly held together by the intricately detailed material.

Before he knew it, he was blinking out of a daydream watching you bow and thank everyone for watching. Blowing a cheeky kiss, eyes darting up toward Changkyun one last time before you twisted on your heels, hair flicking out into the air and you were walking away, displaying the globes of your arse and then Changkyun noticed it, a little tattoo that he only knew on one person. No fucking way. He shot out his seat, cutting Hyunwoo off from whatever he was saying. “Im are you-”

“She’s here. I gotta go.” He rushed out, already in the mouth of the stairwell, rushing down as quickly as possible. He weaved through the seats, ignoring the comments of displeasure as he blocked people’s view from the next act. He didn’t care, he saw you, there was no doubt about it.

He was like a lost man, stumbling over his feet as he rushed around toward the back of the stage. It had been so long, you were barely recognisable, especially in your attire; the image of you on stage in that corset and stockings, not to mention a thong possessed his mind and knowing that it’s you only made him all the more determined to find you as he reached the dressing room, a security guard blocking the entrance. A large palm hovered above Changkyun’s stomach, no contact needed to heed warning to Changkyun that he could not go backstage.

“I’m a VIP guest, check with your boss and let me in.” It was rare that Changkyun was firm, voice anything but playful or sarcastic, even during business, yet now, so close to seeing you he couldn’t help the edge to his tone, the way he sounded demeaning toward the security guard who dared to stop him.

“It’s alright Pascal,” Changkyun felt the way his adam's apple bobbed as eyes drifted up to take you in for the first time in God knows how long. His eyes locked with yours, brown orbs still dark and playful and powerful enough to melt a man, to melt Changkyun. “He’s with me.”

***

Changkyun was in a daze. Your sultry voice, playful and teasing as you stalked around Changkyun like a predator, robe wrapped loosely around your stage outfit as you asked, more like commanded “Give me a ride home baby?” He was at a loss. Sure, he wanted a chance to talk with you, to let out all of his hurt and frustrations and loneliness of not having you by his side, yet he didn’t think you’d be so willing, especially when you were the one who left him.

He watched your long legs silhouetted in sheer black stockings make their way toward his car once the two of you had left the confines of the club. Your driver was waiting outside the vehicle, having a smoke in his free time which he coughed on upon seeing your familiar face. He straightened his hat, eyes wide as they flickered from you to Changkyun and back again. “M-m-m-miss, nice to um, see you again.” Your smile was wide and genuine and Changkyun realised how much he missed seeing it when you gave a cheerful reply.

“We’re taking her home.” Changkyun said, his ears feeling as if they were filled with cotton, his voice distant in his own ears.

The journey was mostly silence. You were calm and collected, straight in your seat and leg crossed, rolling your heeled foot at the ankle to soothe out the small aches. Changkyun couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He honestly couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It felt more like a vivid dream, that you were a touch away, that he could feel the heat emanating from your body.

“You look good.” You couldn’t take the silence and you weren’t so sure Changkyun could speak, you could see he was still in disbelief.

“Yeah? You should have seen me before tonight. After you left I’ve been the definition of ‘look like shit.’” A heavy sigh fell from your lips, body depressing as his barely concealed anger bit at you. “I am sorry for that. But, it was time.” You couldn’t bare to look at Changkyun, as cowardly as it was, but at least you said it, at least he knew. You had to start making him understand. “I needed to go. Yes, I left, but I didn’t leave you, not really.” You whispered, the words caught in your throat as your airways seemed to begin to close. You had never realised how hard it would be to just explain. And you never realised that Changkyun would be so hurt that he may never even take you back.

It was more tense silences, even as the car pulled up onto the driveway of your building. “Come up.” It was an invitation that you left him to decide on as you exited the car. You walked slow, breathing deeply as hope lingered inside you. Then you heard the click of the car door as he pushed it open and the subtle thud when it closed and knew he was behind. A small smile graced your face as the small hope inside bloomed.

Changkyun was silent even in the lift, even when the both of you were at your apartment door. Unlocking it you kicked off your heels and then turned, watching Changkyun’s eyes drift to the expanse of your lush apartment. “Doing well for yourself I see.” Strangely, it wasn’t a bitter remark. More of an observation. “Yes, I make good money at the club and… I’ve been in the studio a bit too. I don’t know though…” You trailed of, hanging your robe up and then turning back to Changkyun who’s chest heaved once with the sharp intake of air. “You trying to seduce me?” You blinked at him and then looked down at yourself before laughing. You look up with a tilt of your head and then bite your lip. “Maybe I am. Is it working?”

Your face pressed to the cool surface of the wall is your answer. This wasn’t your intention at all, but you couldn’t say you minded when you felt the way your body heated to Changkyun pressed against you; he fitted so easily as if he were meant to be a part of you, as if he had always been there that it was so easy for you to relax. His hot breath caressed your ear as sinful words spilled easily past his lips. “Babygirl I’m not feeling very nice tonight.” You shuddered against him, shaky and wanton when you whispered, “So don’t.”

He was quick on the uptake, hands rough in their path as he sought out the inches of your body. “God baby I missed this ass.” Changkyun growled into the back of your neck, hair gripped in his fist as he pushed your face more into the wall. The pads of his hands and the rings that decorated them melding into the skin of your arse as he tightened his grip harshly, drawing restrained whimpers from you. Changkyun shot forward, heavy breaths panting against your cheek as he spat out, “My cock especially missed it babygirl.” Your lips parted to release a stream of broken air as you felt the way your body awakened; nerves, muscles, skin reminiscing the touches of Im Changkyun and how fucking good it had felt. “Did you miss me?” He asked quietly.

The air, if possible, seemed to have solidified, formed some kind of blanket that smothered you, that stopped you from taking air, feeling a painful burn as your body screamed to breath, your airways closing for good it seemed. His knuckles stroking against your arm brought you back and you realised that your eyes had pooled with tears that you attempted to blink away, your voice choked and broken when you whispered back. “More than you would ever believe.” The silence was overwhelming after that, neither of you attempting conversation, or even moving.

It was a while before you felt his lips press to the top of your spine, a strange heat searing from the pressure he applied, your body relaxing as if his lips were a sedative. “I went crazy.” He whispered softly as his hand loosened just slightly in your hair, his fingers shifting to your waist and gently holding the dip of your body, thumb stroking. “I still am.” He suddenly growled, voice rough, but not as rough as how his hand suddenly pushed you further against the wall, both hands tightening in their position making you yelp. “You put me through hell, I’m still in hell.” He growled, ignoring your voice trying to reason with him, trying to tell you how sorry you were, still are for everything. “Changkyun.” You whispered, eyes shutting as your hair pulled back from your aching scalp. “What?” He spat. “What do you have to say that’s going to change what you did? What you put me-- What you’re still putting me through.”

Changkyun was never an angry man, not really. Despite the line of work he was involved in, it was only about the money. He didn’t like to get his hands dirty. But you knew that had changed. And you knew that, that was your fault. And you knew deep down that the only reason he’d feel this way was because despite it all he still loved you…

“I still love you,” You panted against the wall, your lips sticking as you choked out your words desperately. “A-and and nothing I say will ever change, never ever change what I did, but baby… I know you’re angry and… If you need to get it out… Well,” You squeezed your eyes shut as you considered the words you were about to say, knowing it was all kinds of wrong and wouldn’t resolve much, but it was a step forward, a step back towards each other. “You can take it out on me all you want baby.”

Changkyun let out an airy fuck and then he was on his knees, hands falling away from your hair and waist and latching onto your asscheeks. “Still love letting your body be used, huh?” His fingers pushed up your cheeks, nails sinking into your plump flesh as his teeth left stinging nips high up your inner thighs. “ah-ah for you...always.” You sighed, legs jolting a little at the little pinches his teeth made. Changkyun froze for a moment, mulling over your words; they were foreign and made his heart ache, even if the both of you were in this rather explicit position, he knew your words had a deeper meaning, he knew that you were basically giving him some kind of ownership over you, giving yourself to him.

Instead of replying he allowed the tips of his fingers to brush over your skin, over the red indents left on you, his other hand keeping a firm hold of you as you shivered at the dual feeling of his rough grip and featherlight touch. He mouth pushed light kisses over your thighs, suckling just beneath your cheeks. His fingers found the elastic that held your stockings up and pulled back to let it spring stingingly onto your skin, a startled yelp caught in your throat, before his hot tongue came out to lick away the little burning on your skin. Your thighs shook, his breath absorbed by your skin and lighting up everything inside of you as your eyes shut.

“I won’t forgive you if you do this again.” “I know.”

His lips trailed up following the curve of your arse, his nose nuzzling against your skin affectionately and then burying his face between your cheeks, both his hands cupping each one and shaking them around his face before he pulled back. “I can’t believe you wore a thong on stage.” He muttered, half amused, mostly turned on. “Flaunting yourself like that baby, you’re such a tease.” You felt relief settle in your chest at his playful words and wiggled your hips so your arse brushed his face again. “If I knew you’d be there I wouldn’t have bothered to wear anything.” Changkyun groaned, rolling his eyes as he grinned. “Total tease.”

His finger weaved under the material of your thong, hooking and pulling back, your little moans muffled through closed lips as he made your lips swallow the lace between your slit. He tilted his head for his teeth to nibble at your smooth puffy folds, tongue running in a trail of swirls as his wrist flexed to wedge the material even more against you. “Let’s see if you taste as good as I remember…” His finger smoothed the material from your slit and pulled it aside, the tip of his tongue slithering between your folds, feeling the bump of your clit as he brushed over it again and again. Your hips began to push back, your lips parting as you allow soft moans to sing into the air.

Changkyuns fingers spread your folds and allowed the roughness of his tongue to lick slow stripes, stopping just below your puckered anus, your wetness slowly dribbling out, glistening and honey-like as the tip of his tongue maneuvered in circles barely entering your hole. You sucked in air through your teeth, feeling how muscles deep in the pits of your stomach were beginning to tighten. He pulled back with a helpless moan, “Fuck you do still taste so fucking good.” Finally he was forcing his tongue into you, straining his tongue to reach inside of your tight walls , feeling how heavily your wetness stuck to his pallette. Your hand hit against the wall, a restrained squeal that made your neck tighten as his nose pushed deeper, nose nudging your anus like it were his thumb pressing against you.

Abruptly he stood up, barely time for you to register that his warmth had even left as he crushed his body into your back, hands at your hips, pulling back and trailing a hand up between your shoulder blades and pushed down so your chest pressed to the wall and your arse stuck out. “More than the pain, I was fucking starved when you left.” He rasped out, deep voice husky and rumbling against you as his hand holding your hip found your exposed folds, shifting the material of your thong out of the way running your slit once and then finding your hole to slip in. Cool rings pressed to your soft entrance as his finger reached as far as it could and you cried out, unexpected penetration that had your knees bending, pushing even more down onto him and when he slipped a second finger in you whined into the air. “It’s just fingers babygirl, don’t tell me you can’t handle this.” He grinned as he began to scissor into you, each clench of your walls soaking him with your essence, urging his fingers to slip in quicker, arse rippling from his motions.

“Please, please, please.” You gasped, a hand reaching backward and haphazardly searching for changkyun’s cock, grazing his thigh and finally finding that familiar thickness bulging beneath his suit pants. Your hand latched onto him and squeezed, moaning even more as your walls tightened impossibly, imaging that his cock was buried into you and squeezing around him till he was being milked into your cunt. “Oh God~” You cried out. Changkyun growled, ripping your arm away from him and pressing it to your lower back. “You always were cock hungry for me.” He teased, cocky and smirking into your hair as he stretched you with a third finger.

Your walls were stroked with twists and turns of fingers pushing up into you and then you were trying to bounce yourself onto his fingers, his arm tensing as he worked harder to thrust into you, your wetness making lovely squelches as he penetrated. You burned inside out, moans endless, echos bouncing off the walls and spurring changkyun on as he released your arm and slipped around you to and lowered to find your clit. You screamed, writhing against the wall as you tried to push back, his fingers pressing and rubbing as he finger fucked you till you were helplessly shaking, your orgasm breaking inside, like shattered glass as you broke into pieces of unbearable desire. “That’s it babygirl, that’s it.” He soothed, fingers never ceasing till your shaking body was reduced to twitches against the wall.

You were left breathing heavily against the wall, already feeling spent as your knees pressed into the concrete. Changkyun watched how your weakened body slumped against the wall. He smirked, pulling his leather belt from the hoop and briskly unbuckling it till he can pull it out. He unbuttoned his suit pants with haste, pulling the zipper down and pulling his cock out; it felt heavy, impossibly hard and thick as he stroked once, then twice before lining himself up with your hole. You shot up, hands bracing against the wall as the bulb of his cock ran up and down your slickness and then began to push in. “Oh fuck, God, fuck me.” You cried out, wet lips drooling against the wall as he sheathed you, not allowing you time to take him in, your tight walls barely slowing him down as he pushed deep inside of you. His head tilted back in a gasp while you became incoherent, a mix of noises and words spilling from your lips.

The way you squeezed him had you feeling every groove and protruding vein on his cock, but his didn’t allow much time before he was pulling his hips back to begin thrusting at a maddening pace. Your body shook against the wall and you cried out feeling your head almost violently snap back as something pulling you back by your neck - his belt. Changkyuns fists wrapped on each end, pulling the leather back till it pressed harshly unto your throat allowing him to push even quicker inside of you. You quickly became light headed, air slowly unable to fill your lungs as the leather was pulled harder till you were unnaturally bending backward, frantic tear filled eyes staring up and Changkyun’s face. He smirked down at you, even as he gritted his teeth to exert himself even more, even as his groans rumbled deep in his chest he pushed himself into you.

His stepped forward, your chest pressing more into the wall, Changkyun releasing one end of the belt and grasping it with his other so he could squeeze your breast hard. His hand left your breast and then his fingers were at your gaping mouth, rubbing your tongue and inner cheeks messily with his fingers, pushing deeper till your body jerked when he made you gag. He released the belt altogether, forearm round your shoulders and pushing a hand into your lower back. He squeezed you between his chest and the wall and rotated his hips in hard slow circles making you cry out repeated pleas.

“You like this baby? You like this cock?” He said into your hair. “I love it.” You gasped out as he began to thrust again, the mere shake of your whole body stirring the pleasure within you. You began to pulsate around Changkyun who moaned brokenly into your hair as you both neared breaking point.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” You gripped his forearm, nails digging into the material of his dress shirt as you turned your face in search of his lips that melded to yours, a few more thrusts before he was moaning long and low into your mouth, hips stilling deep inside, the twitch of his cock and the pulsing of your walls milking his cum, painting you white deep inside. Your own orgasm triggered, you violently shaking against both him and the wall, Changkyun holding you as securely as he could as your eyes rolled back and then you finally slumped in his arms.

The mess of post-orgasm was in fact not the mix of your cum spilling from you and running between your thighs as he pulled himself out of you, nor was it the tangle of your hair or the sweat that coated your body thickly. The mess was the tense silence, the unasked questions and even worse, the unspoken answers. The mess of thoughts and the mess of feelings muddled and painful.

“Please don’t leave me again.” Your forehead creased, a river of lines filled with pain and need to heal. Your hand found his, gripping tightly, almost as desperate as his broken tear filled voice that had your heart clenching in a painful ache. You forced your tired and weakened body to turn in his arms, fingers finding themselves slipping through the fine soft strands of brown and then your lips hovered against his to whisper a broken and promising “Never.”

Soft kisses and tender touches were the beginnings of sewing the torn pieces of you and Changkyun back together. And you knew that no matter what happened, you’d be willing to mend yourself and him over and over again.

#mxwriters #ksmutnet #boy group writers net #monsta x smut #changkyun smut #i.m smut #monsta x scenarios #sangdoldolfics #unedited #i kinda actually like my writing here idk #kinktober 17

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