#my only objective the past few months has been to survive and we are barely doing that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yeahimaloser · 4 years ago

Note

Oooo I also got another good request how about a hawks x reader childhood friends they grow up together she took his punishments for him yk they have each other’s back and then in the future a villian attack and she ALMOST dies but no she gets save then hawks realizes he loves her and it’s all fluff at the end eek

Ok so, I literally love this request so much, I have no idea why it took me so long to write, but it's finally done!

Oh my god it took so long.

they/them pronouns used.

8k words! please enjoy!

16+ a bit suggestive at the end.

. . .

You sniffed, a hand wiping across your face as tears stung your eyes.

You had been training with the commission for a while now, almost a month to be exact. And it was so hard. In fact, it felt more like they were specifically targeting you.

You looked over at one of the other kids in the commissions program, Keigo, he seemed to have no problem with this exercise, in fact, you would have thought he was excelling at it.

But you could only sit and watch as his little wings flew past you.

You were only pulled from your family recently, but you knew that Keigo was here longer than you were. You rarely talked to him since your arrival, maybe it was because part of you didn’t want to become friends with anyone, maybe it was a small way of acting out, you didn’t know why, but you didn’t like him. He was just so much better than you.

Ever since you first came here, you’ve felt weak. You felt inferior to Keigo, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to him, watching exciede everyones expectations.

Compared to him, you were nothing but a dull blade.

You look down at your hands, cursing them as if that would do you any good. Your eyes stung again, the dust prickling against your eyelids.

The exercise was not supposed to be a difficult one, in terms of the gruelling training practices that they made you do, this one was pretty easy. All you had to do was get from one point in the commission's training facility, all the way to the other side of said facility. A simple running exercise. Although the floors were littered with traps, making it harder for you to get there, you knew it was supposed to be easy. And yet, for whatever reason, you had such immense difficulty.

Your quirk was mostly made for combat. It was the power they gave you the ability to control metal through your will. And although others might find it useful, you found it so difficult.

The problem was, your power was flashy, and yet not as easy to use as one might think. The metal had to touch you, which means that you have to get a hold of some metal object. And although technically you would be controlling it through your mind (Making it fly through the air at your own will) the object couldn’t be very heavy. Whatever metal object you wanted to use would weaken you. For example, controlling a knife was no problem, but controlling a 20 pound ball of metal was extremely difficult. which made your quirk almost completely useless here. Doing a running exercise, like you were doing now, there is little to nothing you could do with your quirk. The only times that your quirk would actually be useful, was during rescue missions or during an attack with multiple heroes in a big city with a lot of metal that you could touch. But that wasn't the case, and you hated it.

As you sat in the corner, trying desperately not to show your tears, you felt a gust of air as you looked up, only to be met with red wings.

“Are you…Ok?”

You never noticed how pretty his eyes were, the honey color’s made his features look so much softer.

After a few minutes, you realized he was still waiting for you to answer.

And for whatever reason, you felt your whole face becoming hot.

“I’m fine.” You said all too quickly.

He raises a bushy eyebrow at you, his face quizzical. “If you’re sure, but we are partners.”

You rolled your eyes.

You two were never truly partners. In this compound, there was only yourself to be concerned with.

“Stop pitying me, I can help myself.”

He smirked, “You say as if you’re not on the ground as we speak.”

You felt your face heating up again as you sprang to your feet, your eyes quickly narrowed, trying your best to seem composed.

“Why did you come back for me?”

But Keigo just shrugged, “Saw someone in need of help.”

That was the last straw.

You angrily stomped away. Who was he to judge you? Who was he to act like some hero? You knew he was the commission's golden boy, they loved him, he was their best weapon.

And you knew he was bright enough to know that as well. Although he never got any special treatment, you could tell by the way they trained him, how they paid more attention to his abilities and not so much the other’s.

Including you.

You felt something pull at you, something tugging you back.

You turned to see- a feather?

“Hey wait a sec,” Keigo said, “I wanna ask you something.”

Your face hardened, you two should be getting back to training soon, you knew the instructor would most likely yell at the two of you for falling too much behind.

“Ask your question and let's go,” you said, huffing.

“Do you want to be friends?”

The question caught you so off guard, causing you to stumble over a rock in front of you.

You whiped back to him, your eyes widen as you realized he was completely serious.

“Wha- friends? What the hell are you on about? There are no friends here, that's an idiot's dream.”

But Keigo only shrugged, “Well, then I guess I’m an idiot.”

You stared back at him, a look of pure disbelief written on your face.

Was he insane? Having friends here was almost imposible. The commission made sure of that, pitting you two against eachother, comparing you to one another, they made it so you would fight amongst yourselves.

“Why would you want to be friends with me?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

But he just shrugged, “Because I'm curious about you, and that crousity makes me want to befriend you.”

You stilled, thinking and thinking till your brain hurts.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now, I know I probably caught you off guard, and if you don’t want to, I understand… I think-I think I’m just lonely.”

You pursed your lips, still thinking it over in your mind before you grabbed his hand.

“Look, I’ll think about it, but first, let's get this race over with.”

Keigo smiled, blushing a bit as you two took off, hoping you two would becoming good friends.

. . .

And as time went on, you two did, in fact, become the best of friends.

By the time you were both teens, you and Keigo (or Hawks as his hero name) became the commissions pride and joy.

Although you were always so surprised that they didn’t want to through you out, Keigo was so much better than you, and you had fallen much behind him.

Keigo was faster, smarter and stronger, you knew that, you knew that all to well.

But, the commission never removed you, you continued to train to become a hero, right besides Keigo. A part of you wondered if maybe you were only kept on because of Keigo, maybe the commission saw how close you two were, watching how much you mattered to him, and maybe they thought they could use you to their advantage.

The thought made you shiver, mostly due to the fact that it wasn’t impossible, and more than likely.

One night, as you and Keigo lay under the stars on the roof of the commission's building, watching the night sky above.

Suddenly, Hawks turned to you, “Hey Y/N,” he said, “can I ask you something?”

You nodded your head, feeling your heart flutter.

“Do you....do you want to become a hero with me?”

You smiled, “Isn't that the whole reason we’re here? To become heroes?”

But Keigo just shook his head, “No I mean...what do you want to do? With your life?”

You took a pause, you’ve never really thought about it all that much. What did you want to do with your life? You’ve always just done what others have told you to do, always choosing to follow others rather than yourself.

You realized you had never thought about it before, never taking into consideration your feelings, you just worked to survive.

“...I don’t know.”

You hated saying it, it felt like such a childish thing to admit, especially with Keigo. Keigo, who’s figured out his life goal already. Keigo, who’s living out his dream. Keigo, who has most of his life planned out.

“I mean- I guess I’m not used to choosing for myself, you know? I’m not sure how to go about… figuring out my life without someone telling me how to live it first.”

But Keigo just nodded, “No, that makes sense, I mean, you’ve lived here most of your life, you’ve worked to become a hero, but that's really only because you were taught to be one. It’s ok to not know what you want out of life, and don’t worry, I’ll be here to support you, Y/N.”

Keigo turned to you, a smile plastered on his face.

That beautiful, amazing, breathtaking smile.

You felt your face become flushed, and you sat up quickly so as to not have Keigo notice.

“Yeah well- thanks,” you said softly.

But Keigo just laughed, “Don’t worry about it dove.”

. . .

Years later, and Hawks had become the number two pro hero. And you hadn’t done too badly yourself, coming in at the number eleventh spot.

You didn’t mind being behind Hawks, in fact, you found yourself becoming a bit proud of yourself because of how far you had made it.

Right now, you were busy on portal, watching citizens go about their day on a rooftop above.

You watched closely, wondering what kind of life you could have been living if you had never chosen to be a hero, wondering if you too, would have been walking on that very same street as some other hero observed you from afar.

Somedays you found yourself wondering if the hero commission hadn’t taken you away, had let you lived your life for yourself, what would you do? Who would you become?

You wondered if you would have met Keigo as well, or if that would only work if you had been with the hero commission.

Maybe in that universe, you two could finally be together.

It happened a while ago, when you figured out your true feelings for Hawks. Although, maybe you always had feelings for him, since you were little kids. But, you had feelings for him had began to bubble over, you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him, wanted to keep him to yourself. But you would never act on these feelings, you knew better.

Keigo Takami would never be yours, not in a million years.

You let out a sigh, just as you heard boots hit the ground behind you.

“Miss me,” a familiar voice asked.

Even though you had known Hawks since you two were kids, you were always caught off guard by those dazzling eyes, the honey gold color swirling around as he stared down at you, pinning you to your spot on the roof.

You smiled, “Hawks, I just saw you.”

He shrugged, “So? I still missed you in that time.”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you come here to bother me or do you actually have a reason to be here?”

His hands flew to his chest, dramatically saying, “Oh angel, how you wound my poor heart.”

You giggled, “Aw Hawks, always the flare for the dramatic.”

He smiled, but then his eyes got serious, “But I do need your help with something, a mission not too far from here.”

Watching Hawks in action was like watching an artist at work, he was careful, skillful, even downright majestic. He took care in his work, he worked quickly and efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

And, not to sound too cocky, you two made a pretty good team. And considering you two were very close friends, you vehemently enjoyed working with him.

Although, maybe it was cuz you also had a little bit of a crush on him.

Your face felt flushed at the thought, but before you could think your mouth had already said yes.

“Oh? Are you just agreeing so you can spend time with me, little dove,” Hawks smiled teasingly.

He had a habit of doing this, it was a little game he would play on you. teasing was so fun for him, but he didn’t realize how it gave you such butterflies.

Luckily though, although you did have feelings for him, you learned how to push them away for situations like this.

You scoffed, “Hawks, would you just give me the rundown. Or do I have to call the commission myself?”

He put his hands up, “Wow there chicky, no need to get antsy, I’ll explain everything, ok?”

He told you about the mission, nothing to fancy, in fact, it was quite easy.

Some of his sidekicks had noticed some suspicious activity near a specific location near U.A that the commission wanted to be checked out. They had said that they didn’t want another attack to happen yet again to the school.

On the outside, it might have seemed like the commission gave a shit about the kids in U.A, but you knew better. They just wanted to look good, and right now, this was the best way to do that.

“So basically, if we do see any suspicious activity, we’re allowed to bring anyone in there for questioning, and if worst comes to worst, we have orders to use force.”

You nodded, sounded just like a normal mission for the two of you, should be no p.

“Alright,” you said, “Sounds easy enough. Should we head over now? How will I get there?”

But Hawks seemed to be one step ahead of you.

He held out his hand, a smirk plastered on his dazzling face, “Just hold on to me, sweetheart.”

. . .

You’ve flown with Hawks before, considering how close you two were it was understandable that he would have offered a number of times.

But still, it Always made you so giddy.

The way he held you, so secure in his arms, his face inches away from you. And that gleam in his eyes, it always felt like it was only you and him in that moment, only you two in the entire sky. And each time, it made your heart shudder.

“You ok there, dove,” Hawks asked in your ear.

You jumped a little, surprised by his words. You realized you had begun spacing out while looking directly at him.

You composed yourself, “Just keep flyin’ bird brain. I’m just thinking.”

You could almost feel his smirk, “Thinking? Thinking of what, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Drop it Hawks.”

“Oh,” he said, his tone mischievous, “just like I can drop you?”

Just then, you felt Hawks serve mid-air.

“KEIGO,” you shouted, not even thinking.

But Hawks had regained his hold on you, the prank only lasting for a second.

He laughed, his chest shaking, “You should have seen your face, Chicky! Ha! That was funny!”

But you would disagree, “I swear to God, Hawks, I’ll punch you when we land.”

But you thought for a second, “Sorry I called you your name...so loud.”

Keigo didn’t really like his name, opting to be called ‘Hawks’ instead.

But you knew why he preferred his new name instead. Because of his past.

Keigo was a kid left in the dirt, left and discarded, a remnant of a past that wasn’t so pleasant. You knew that thinking about it only brought pain to him, and saying his name out loud would only remind him of a past he would rather soon forget.

And the name ‘Hawks’ had marked the beginning of a new life for him. It was a way for him to move on past that old life, a way for him to become the best version of himself.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s ok… I don’t think anyone heard,” Hawks said.

His grip on you seemed to be tighter, more secure.

“And also, you know I would never drop you, right? I could never hurt you, ever.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s so cheesy. Just don’t drop me and it’s fine.”

. . .

The place wasn’t too bad.

It was an old supply garage, there were about four people from what you could see.

It was definitely near U.A, you could see a clear view to the school, although it was far, it definitely had a vantage point. You could see why this could be a problem, and your brain hurt thinking about what villainous thing they could be planning.

You could hear the guy closest to you, it was a bit hard but you honed your ears.

“So, you all have everything,” a man asked in a scratchy rough voice.

“Yeah,” one of the others said, “everything's here, make sure to give it to Shigaraki with our gratitude.”

You looked over at Hawks, but his eyes were trained on the villains, his black pupils sharpening and watching their every move, before he nodded, signaling to move out.

And then, everything happened in a flash.

Hawks, as always, moved fast and quick, and you come up behind him.

Hawks grabbed one of the men, and held back the other two with his feathers, leaving only you and the two others.

You pulled out your handy metal staff, preparing yourself to bend it to your will.

But you never got the chance.

One of the men smirked a gun in his hand. The other behind him, activating what looked like an ice quirk.

And before you could think, you felt your feet being Frozen down to the hard metal floor of the garage.

“What the hell,” you mutter to yourself.

you tried your best to wiggle your way out of it, but you saw no way to free yourself from your icey binds.

Luckily, with your fast thinking, you grabbed the metal staff, shaping it to hit one of the men square in the jaw, making him drop his weapon.

the other one was taken aback, a perfect opening for your staff to hit him in the face.

But your feet were still frozen to the floor, and a few whacks to the felons was not going to be enough to take them down.

You racked your brain, Hawks was too far away, and there was no way you could get out of the ice on your own.

You brought your metal stuff back, using it to break the ice on your feet. Just as the men were getting back up.

You ran over, preparing to hit one of the men right in the face, a blow big enough to knock them out.

But you never got the chance.

The other man tackled you to the floor, your back hitting the ground.

“Not so tough now, are you, little hero.”

You looked over at Keigo, but there was no use. He was too busy fighting his own battle, and you knew it wasn't fair to rely on him.

So, with all your strength you pushed the man off. Using the metal floor to help you.

Just then, an idea occurred to you. It was risky, but it could work.

You knew that Keigo was far enough for it to work, it wouldn’t hurt him, but the only problem was it wouldn’t trap the two villains he was fighting.

But, considering he was the number two hero, you knew he would be just fine. You trusted him in that.

The ground beneath you is made of metal, you could feel it beneath your feet. You could also feel the two men running towards you.

You dodged their initial attacks, but you knew that they would soon overpower you. You also knew that you couldn't kill them, but you could hurt them.

So your best bet was to trap them, and yourself, before backup came.

You hit your palm against the floor, willing it to your mind. It was a long stretch, and you could feel the strain on your body. The toll that it was taking was immediate, your muscles felt tired, your brain even felt foggy for a few minutes, but you kept going.

You made sure that the ground collapsed, but it wouldn't hurt anybody.

You were not expecting, however, for the ceiling to collapse along with it.

There must have been a support beam on the ground as well that you had taken down with the floor, causing the ceiling to come down.

You looked up, seeing the last moment as the ceiling collapsed on you.

. . .

Hawks hated hospitals.

The smell, the people, the pain. He hated it all, but you were the one in the hospital, so of course, he needed to come.

The days after the accident had been hard, to say the least.

Keigo just remembered watching as the rooftop collapsed, watching your bruised body go along with it.

He remembered screaming your name too, yelling and willing all his feathers to help you, to get you out.

He remembered his heart racing and beating so hard in his chest, he remembered his eyes, tears swelling up as his breath ran ragged.

He didn’t even care about the villains, he had caught the two he had been fighting already, but he didn’t care. He needed to get you out, he needed to make sure you were ok.

After digging for what felt like an eternity, there you were, bruised and bloody. But you were breathing, and he held you close, his tears dripping over your cheeks.

He felt his heartbreak, he couldn't stand the sight of you being hurt, he couldn't stand the thought that he had something to do with it.

He wanted you to wake up, he wanted you to wake up so badly it hurt. For you to look up, and teased him about crying. He wanted nothing more than to apologize over and over, for making his friend suffer, even if it was unintentional.

He knew he could never forgive himself, and he knew he could never make it up to you.

Keigo knew you were in bad shape, so he called the ambulance to take you to the hospital. He was there with you the whole way, watching you, helping in any way he could.

He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, watching as your fragile body was rolled away to the special care unit of the hospital, as the doctors told him he couldn’t come in with you.

“Mr. Hawks,” a voice said in front of him.

He flinched.

Hawks wasn’t someone who was easily startled, seeing as he had years of training, but his mind was so all over the place. Worrying and wondering if you were ok, hoping and praying to god everything would be ok.

He couldn’t lose you, and he realized that only now.

If he lost you, how would he even be able to function? You were everything to him, his friend (if he was being truthful, his only true friend) , his rock, the person he could trust for support and help.

To be honest, if he lived in a world without you, he really wouldn’t know what to do…

“Sir?”

He snapped back to reality, his eyes looking up at the doctors.

“Sorry,” he sighed, “I think I’m just a bit off my game today, you’ll have to excuse my behavior. But what were you saying, sir?”

“Well, L/N Y/N has sustained some pretty severe injuries, such as bruising of the sides and hips, and a broken leg,” Hawks sucked in a breath, “We know how to treat it, of course, but Y/N will need much recovery time. That being said, Y/N seems to not have any family or emergency contacts but you. If it’s ok with you, would you be willing to visit as well as look over Y/N in the recovery period?”

Hawks quickly agreed, “Anything doctor, anything you need or Y/N needs...anything at all.”

The doctor smiled at him, “Thank you, Mr. Hawks, unfortunately though, Y/N needs a bit more time alone, but when we deem it ok, you can come back for a visit.”

Hawks felt his shoulders slump, he knew it was selfish, but he had hoped to see you again, to apologize for putting you in that piston, he felt horrible.

The mission wasn't supposed to go like that at all, it was supposed to be a swift and easy fight. It was really just supposed to be the four guys with easy quirks, and they were all supposed to be an easy fight.

Hawks had learned about the hideout in front of U.A a while ago, when he learned it was also a part of the ledge, he went right to Dabi.

“Are you insane,” he had said, “someone will catch you, and personally, I can’t stand by and let you attack those kids.”

“Oh?” Dabi smirked, “And how will you stop us? You’re a part of the league now, bird boy, and we need this lookout, so just shut up already.”

Keigo huffed, “I can’t let you do that, that’s right by my portal area, my bosses will get suspicious, and I look bad enough as it is. I haven’t brought anyone from the league in, soon someone will put two-in-two together.”

It was a lie of course, his bosses knew exactly why he couldn't bring in anyone from the league, they had assigned the mission after all.

But the problem didn't lie with his bosses, it lay with the other Heroes and the public eye. The other hero’s had started to whisper to each other, wondering why the Hawks hadn’t brought in anyone from the notorious League of villains yet. He heard their whispers, and it made him uneasy. He knew if he didn't act soon, they would just grow more and more suspicious. As for the public eye, he couldn't let his image slide, he had to figure out a solution, and this would be the perfect way to do so.

Dabi pondered the idea, toying with Hawks’ growing anticipation, like a cat pawing at a helpless bird.

“Alright, I suppose we can make that work.”

And so, a plan was formed.

Keigo was to swiftly take the four men in for questioning. Dabi had arranged for it so all vital information was to be learned from the lookouts, and then Hawks could swoop in and go in fighting. The other four men would have no idea what was going on, so it looked like the real deal.

They had set up specific times and dates to make sure they would take the men and the lookout down, that way the league wouldn’t lose any vital information.

“I’ll tell you when, don’t start till I tell you,” Dabi had said, “or else there will be problems.”

And Hawks had done as he was told, he waited for Dabi to give him the all-clear, and went in.

But you getting hurt was never a part of the plan.

Keigo felt guilt clawing at his chest. How did he get like this? He was supposed to be the one to protect you, to make sure that you were always okay.

But it seemed like he was the one who got you hurt.

His guilt was suddenly replaced by anger, it made him ball his fist.

Those men were supposed to be easy to take down, they were supposed to be simple to deal with, but even Keigo had difficulty defeating them all on his own.

This was an error on his part, he knew that, but he also couldn’t help but simultaneously blame Dabi as well.

It was his fault that he hadn’t warned Keigo about the strength of the men.

Keigo was going to make him pay….

. . .

Dabi’s head hit the wall with a loud thud, Keigo’s angry eyes boring into him.

“I should kill you right here, right now.”

Dabi laughed, “Look, it wasn’t my fault your little partner couldn’t handle a few guys, ain't they supposed to be a hero? Shouldn’t they be able to help themselves?”

Dabi’s twisted smile made Keigo see red.

“I swear Dabi-”

“The league will come after you, you know that.”

Keigo felt his hands shake with rage, his fingers wrinkling Dabis' shirt.

“What were they to you? You seem pretty upset there, birdy. Maybe….your lover?”

A feather sharpened at Dabi’s neck, Keigo’s fury never leaving his body.

“Say one more goddamn word and I swear to god I'll kill you.”

“Look,” Dabi said, “I didn't know how strong those guys were, I thought that you'd be able to take ‘em down pretty easily. But I guess we just gave ‘em more training than I thought. That's all. Nothing I could have done about it, and nothing you could have done about it. You should know that stuff like this is inevitable, shit is bound to go wrong.”

Keigo released him, his eyes still boring into Dabi’s.

“If I figure out you had some sort of part in this-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll kill me. I get it.”

Keigo stormed off, walking away from Dabi.

Keigo wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of someone, anyone, he just wanted someone to blame, someone to feel the way he felt.

The fact that you were in pain only made it worse.

What was he to do now? He couldn’t go home, he would only be able to think about you, only be able to think about your laugh, your eyes, your lips….

He shook his head. Why was he thinking of something like that? And at a time like this? You were...his friend.

But that thought made his heart sink. Like that thought had filled him with dread.

He sighed, shaking his head, this wasn’t about him, it was about you, it was about helping you. Not thinking about his feelings. Or lack thereof.

He felt his phone ring in his back pocket, just before he was leaving.

Looking at the number, he realized it was the doctor's office that was calling.

Without even thinking he picked up, “Hello?”

“Hello Mr. Hawks, we just wanted to ask if you would want to come in and see the patient L/N Y/N, they have woken up. So if you would like to see them-”

“Yes!” Keigo said, a bit too excitedly, “Sorry- about the interruption- but yes I would like to see them.”

“Alright Mr. Hawks, please come whenever you can, they’ve been asking for you.”

. . .

Hawks had never flown so fast, rushing so fast in order to see you, needed to see you.

When he finally got there, he rushed in, finding the receptionist to find your room.

“They’re in room 236 sir-”

But he cut her off, adrenaline pumping through his body.

“Ok, thank you so much.”

Finding your room was easy, and yet, he found himself outside your room, dreading to go in.

How could he face you? How could he apologize? How could he look you in the eye, see what happened to you, and be able to talk to you.

He ran a hand down his face, why was this so hard? He’s taken down many many villains before, and he had never felt as anxious as he did now?

“...Hawks?”

He jumped, he actually jumped.

There you were, standing, only a few inches away from his face, his eyes widened and he could feel his whole body becoming hot.

Why did he suddenly become like this around you? His heart felt like it was on fire, his whole body felt strange.

But your face, it looked so stunning, that for a moment he couldn’t feel his lungs.

“Are you...ok?” He was surprised that his voice finally managed to work.

You blinked, “Yeah, I’m ok. What about you, though? Your face is all red. Do have a fever or something? I can call a doctor.”

“No no,” he sighed, “just...feeling weird I suppose.”

He felt the redness travel from his cheeks all the way up to his ears, “I-I’m fine, really, don't worry about me, I'm actually here to see you.”

You smiled, gazing up at him, “Aww, you can see lil’ old me? How thoughtful.”

You both walked into your room, and Hawks watched as you lay down on the bed.

The hospital room was nothing special, a state-of-the-art hospital room, similar to one's that Hawks had been in many times. Being a hero always came with getting hurt, but seeing you in this condition, made his heart squeeze.

if he could, he would go back in time and figure out a way so that he could be in this situation, not you. You didn't deserve it, you have done nothing but help him, and this is how he repaid you? He felt sick with guilt.

“Hawks?” You said.

He snapped up, like coming back from a bad dream.

But you just laughed your sweet, kind laugh.

Hawks wanted to hear it again, one more time he wanted to hear you laugh like that, it made him feel like everything was drifting away from him like it was just you and him in this entire world.

“You’re totally out of it! What’s gotten into you,” You said, a smile still plastered on your face.

“Sorry, just thinkin’.”

“Yeah well you must be thinking a little too hard there, are you okay? Do you want to sit down? Something's obviously bothering you, you can tell me.”

but hawks just side, “I don’t know, I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

But you just smiled up at him, “Hawks, nothing in this world could make me upset with you.”

And so he told you, about the league, about the secrets he's been hiding from you. It felt good, it felt good to finally confide in someone, it felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. he felt at ease, talking to you like you were the only person who would ever understand. And you probably were.

You listened to him, you listened as he told you about what happened, about how sorry he felt, you didn't blame him for what happened, You just listened. You listened and listened and listened.

So when he finally finished, he was scared of what you would say.

“...I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why are you sorry, Hawks you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked up at you, “B-but I got you hurt-”

“That’s not your fault though, you had a mission to follow.”

“But I should have never involved you.”

“I'm glad you did, it could have been you that would have gotten hurt,” you said, smiling.

But he just tsked, “It would have been better if it was me, I can’t stand to see you like this, you know.”

Your hands went to his cheeks, bringing his face closer, “And I wouldn’t be able to see you like this either, I would have blamed myself. I’m glad I came with you, even if it meant I got hurt in the process. I care about you, Hawks.”

Keigo couldn’t breathe, you were so close, your lips an inch away.

“Keigo.”

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“I want you to call me Keigo when we’re alone from now on, I...I like when you say it.”

You paused for a moment, and then burst out laughing, “Where did this come from?”

His face went red, “I-I don’t know, just kinda been thinking about it I guess.”

You giggled a bit before saying, “Ok, I mean, if that’s what you want. Y’know, you’ve been acting strange Haw-Keigo,” you corrected, “are you sure everything's ok?”

There it was again, the pitter-batter in his heart, the nervousness in his stomach.

Something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to say it.

He didn’t know how he would even categorize the way he was feeling, he couldn't explain it to himself, much less to you.

“I’m fine, just...overwhelmed I guess.”

He shook his head, “But I should be asking how you are, you're the one in the hospital, not me. Stop worrying, how are you, how are you feeling? What do you need me to do? I'll be here to help you, no matter what.”

You rolled your eyes, “Eventually you’ll have to go home, and I’m totally fine, Keigo.”

By the mention of his name, he couldn’t help but feel his heart squeeze.

“R-right, well, can I just..stay here. With you? Till you get better?”

You smiled, “Of course.”

. . .

While you were in the hospital, Keigo stayed by your side. He never left you, he cared for you, watched over for you, and was so understanding.

It only made your feelings for him deeper, and you were loath to admit that you enjoyed it.

You enjoyed watching him fawn over you, knowing that he was close to you. You two would talk for hours, about anything, and you loved it. You loved feeling him near you, watching his eyes soften and the stupid silly quirk of his smile. You felt warm inside, you felt so at peace with him at your side.

You knew it was selfish, but you couldn't help loving how long you were spending with him.

But, it all came to an end, and you had to go home.

To your surprise, Keigo offered you to stay with him for a little bit.

Just till you get back on your feet,” he said.

Your heart leaped at the opportunity, sharing a house with the guy you had a crush on for years? It felt like you were a lovesick teenager again. Although, you would always be lovesick when it came to Keigo.

At Keigo’s house, he was nothing but polite to you. Although, a bit too polite.

For all his flirting, for all his suave charm, he was never really like that with you. He was just normal, keeping to himself in the house, but always being able to hang out with you or do anything with you if you wanted.

And yet, you could feel the nervousness oozing off of him, like he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back.

Like something was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out.

It, intern, made you just as nervous.

Were you being a nuisance? Did you say something to upset him? A million thoughts running through your head, and you are worried about all of them.

The last thing that you would ever want to do would be to upset Keigo, but you couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

Maybe he felt bad about the accident?

You sucked in a breath, that had to be it. He felt bad, and therefore, was nervous around you.

You have to confront him, you thought, you had to clear the air so you would both feel better.

You decided to wait till tomorrow morning, not wanting to scare or embarrass him well you could tell he was so nervous.

. . .

“Keigo,” you said, a waver in your voice showing how nervous you were.

“Hm?” Keigo looked up from his phone, his honey-colored irises landing on you, only serving to make you more anxious.

You took a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you about something. and it's pretty important, so I'd appreciate it if you could listen till the end.”

Keigo sat up, “What, am I in trouble or something?” He said in a teasing, yet nervous way.

“No,” you sighed, “But I just really need to talk to you about something.”

You took one moment more to collect yourself before speaking, “We've known each other for a long time, we've known each other since we were little kids when we were both put into the commission's program and since we were both made heroes. So you should know, that I know when you're upset.”

You saw Keigo twitch in his chair, but you continued.

“You've been nervous ever since the hospital, maybe even nervous in the hospital. And I don't know what's going on with you. I... I don't know if it was something that I did, or if it was something that happened, but I'm here for you. And I don't like it that you keep this a secret from me. I consider you to be one of my best friends, and I want you to know that you can trust me. No matter what happens, I'll still always love you. Nothing will ever change that,” a smile pulled at your lips as you said your last sentence.

It was silent for a few moments, the air between you too felt heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Keigo spoke, “Y/N, I want to tell you something, but... I'm not sure how you’ll react.”

You tried to speak up again, but Keigo cut you off.

“I know that you're going to say that nothing can ever come between us, and I do believe you. But... something came up and I just don't know how to deal with it. You mean so much to me, and losing your friendship is my worst nightmare. And I guess…. I just got so scared of losing you that I just didn't think about anything else. I'm sorry.”

Your face contorted into one of confusion, “Keigo, I’m not sure what you mean? What are you talking about? What came up?”

But Keigo just sighed, “Y/n I...I think I’m in love with you.”

You felt your heart stop, your eyes widened as your brain was racing.

What did you say? No... that couldn't be right.

Keigo Takami could not be in love with you, he just wouldn't. You had accepted that a long time ago, you knew that he would never have the same feelings that you had for him. You knew that, so what was going on?

“I...I’m sorry?”

Keigo’s face turned a bright shade of pink, “I-I think I’m in love with you. I’m sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, I know it must be a lot to take in, if you’re uncomfortable being here with me feel free to leave. I completely understand-”

But your lips stopped his words, your body pressed firmly to his.

He was started by the kiss at first, but soon, his body and mind became muddled, hands wrapped around your waist as he tasted your lips. It felt intoxicating.

Before you knew it, your hips were straddling him, keeping him locked in his chair. But Keigo wasn’t complaining.

Your lips tangled with one another as moans escaped both of you, your hands unable to leave each other's bodies.

Your hands traveled down his chest, even ripping open the button-down he was wearing, showing his abs and rippling muscles.

“Y/N..” Keigo said, his voice hoarse.

When you looked back up at him, his eyes were narrowed, slanted, and staring you down. But they had a softness to them, one that made your heart flutter.

“Keigo… god you have no idea how much I love you,” you said.

If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

Keigo smirked, “‘s that so babe? Well, I plan to show you just how much I love you tonight.”

His lips attached to the column of your throat, kissing and nipping lightly at the skin. His hands roaming up and down your body made you feel as though you were on fire. His calloused hands stroked your back, making you arch into him.

“K-Keigo,” you moaned.

But he just hummed into your skin, his brain turning to mush, only able to think about how much pleasure he could give you, how much love he wanted to show you.

“Keigo, I love you,” you whispered into the shell of his ear.

Keigo groaned, still occupied with your neck, but pulled his lips away in order to say; “I’m glad,” and smiled at you.

You returned his smile before your lips found his again.

It would be a very long night.

#bnha #bnha hawks #mha #hawks #mha keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo takami #hawks x y/n #keigo x reader #pro hero hawks #my hero academia hawks #hawks x you #keigo takami bnha #keigo fanfic #hawks fanfics #keigo x y/n #keigo imagine #wing hero hawks

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1kook · 5 years ago

Text

imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

3K notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

Text

HASO “Leading the Witness.”

Alright guys, this is going on longer than I thought and way more detailed as well but its been interesting. Also I am sorry for the late update, my boss has me rolling quarters at work so I am trying to do that and write this in between.

Thank you to my discord member Eddi for the testing logs he wrote and that I am using as evidence in this story. He deserves all the credit for the well thought out and executed test logs.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of blood, gore, bodily mutilation and mentions of suicide. The Steel eye project development is very graphic, so if you wish to read, please skip the test logs, which will be bolded.

The room spun around him, and he took a few long, deep breaths hoping that it would stop.

He wast sure he could survive another few hours of this.

He wasn’t sure at all

He was sweating, and his body throbbed all over. Clammy hands gripped the sides of his chair as he sat straight backed in his seat. A line of cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Blood had long since drained from his face, and he wondered if he looked as sick as he felt half expecting the bailiff to walk over with a bucket or something. A part of him fancied he could feel every eye in the room staring at him. The prosecution was still talking, but he could barely hear them as his head spun around and around in circles, ears ringing.

The lights pulsed.

He jerked out of it as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up, confused for a moment as he tried to figure out where he was, the room was partially tilted and it took him a moment to realise that he was slumped slightly to the side. Waffles had her head in his lap whimpering very softly.

“Adam, adam are you ok, do you need to step out.”

He lifted his head and turned to look at Admiral Kelly, who now sat beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

His ears were still ringing but not enough to realise that the court had stopped.

The lead judge had held up a hand to the prosecution and was looking directly at him.

Well… at least now the blood was rushing back to his head, and he could feel his ears burning, “Is everything alright, council?” The judge asked, “Does your witness need to step out.”

The lawyers turned to look at him, hints of both concern and concealed annoyance on their faces.

They looked at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “No your honor. My apologies.”

His voice was surprisingly strong for someone who felt like he was about to pass out. The judge didn’t seem too annoyed at him, and looked on with some measure of concern. They whispered something to the nearby bailiff and then motioned the council to continue.

Admiral Kelly didn’t move seats keeping one hand on his shoulder. The bailiff walked over after things had started up again and sat next to them for a moment, “If you need to step out.” He whispered, “Take the side door to your right and someone will let you back in.”

He nodded, “Ill be alright, but…. Thank you.”

The man nodded and stood returning to the front of the room.

“As you can see, their first attempts at creating a proper drug cocktail to dull the pain of direct neural interface, was a complete disaster. Dr. Gladstone, assuming you were forced to use drugs instead of subdermal implants, how would you have gone about this? What is the proper procedure dictated by ethical state law.”

“Drug trials can take months to years, we test them on animals, rats monkeys and even inject them into synthetically grown human tissues and tube grown organs before we even test on animals. Each phase of testing can take up to eighteen months in clinical trials, and if the drug proves to be wrong we start over again.”

“Have you ever done phased drug testing on human subjects.”

“No, certainly not.”

“But of course they continued. May the prosecution present Experimental log 32 for For consideration by the court.”

Experimental log #32:

Over the past experiments we have been testing multiple drug mixtures to try and reduce the pain induced by the Direct neural interface our most recent tests have involved morphine much to our resident doctors discouragement it is one of the few drugs we have found capable of suppressing the pain induced by the direct neural interface. This test involves the use of an automatic dispenser controlled by the pain sensors in the arm.

The subject, as before has been sedated for the implantation of the test augmetic. This time however the drug reservoir has a direct link to the bloodstream.

-recording break-

The subject seems to be stable and moving around without much interference, although slightly lethargic and a little dopy due to the drugs.

We made sure to remove the augmetic well before the drug reservoir ran out. This seems to be successful and stable Several more tests are to be made to confirm this before moving on to the next stage.

“Dr, do you happen to know the laws in relation to the regulation and use of morphine during testing?”

The doctor nodded, “Morphine is heavily regulated even on the research level owing to its additive properties. Only doctors are allowed to prescribe it, and even then, the morphine dosages are regulated and reviewed by an internal board of directors. There is a cutoff point for the amount of morphine allowed for personal use,and the amount of morphine allowed for medical use. This cap can be broken if the board of directors determines the patient is terminal and in extreme pain.”

“How about for research purposes.”

“You can’t research with morphine, and you certainly cannot give it to a patient with no prior history of injury, or other medical conditions.”

“Thank you doctor, the prosecution wishes to present experimental log 34 to consideration.”

Experiential log #34:

Our continued experimentation has lead to the conclusion that stronger chemicals may be required to reduce the pain, one subjects auto-dispensary caused an overdose When the subject spent some time prodding and poking at the implant site it caused excruciating pain that was responded to by the auto dispensary by flooding the body with over 500milligrams of morphine. A stronger painkiller would mean lower doses are required thus avoiding an overdose. Despite our team's medical advisors continuing protests.

Prosecution turned to the judges, “You see here your honor that instead of considering the ethical questionability of their actions, they determined to use more morphine despite the overdose and even extend the use to even more potent drugs. These are not the actions of scientists who were considering ethics, or even the value of human life.”

“Objection your honor on conjecture about the thoughts of my client.”

The judge waved a hand, “It may pass.”

The defence took a seat.

The prosecution adjusted her tie, “Three people died as a result of these tests your honor. Marvin Dess, William Moseratt and Angela Vilgrin. Not once were the tests paused or delayed. Instead, they moved onto the next phase of testing.”

Adam was starting to feel a little better now. He wasn’t sweating so much and he had finally managed to even out his breathing.

“The prosecution would like to present experimental log 28.”

Experimental log #28

Calibration of the arm mounted augmetic seemed to proceed without error or difficulty, The drugs delivered through the internal reservoir developed by Dr. Nkosi renders the subject inured against the supposed pain induced by the augmetic. The primary tests we will be administering are of the use of high strength servo motors to power the augmeitc, reducing its weight and increasing the power behind the subjects rapid motions.

-Recording break-

The Reaction of the servo motors and torsion cables was far too extreme delivering significant damage and trauma to the subject, Further testing will have to be done and fine tuning of the suits will be needed.

Adam knew what was coming and tried to close his eyes and block out the sounds as the next visual log was projected before him.

Audio-visual log transcript:

The subject appears bleary and unresponsive. The augmentic is mounted on their right arm, supposedly their dominant one according to the research notes. The subject is drawn to attention by the scientist administering light taping on their cheek. Upon raising their arm the subject appears a little shocked at the size of the augmetic and the fact it is connected directly to an external power source, questioning the scientist on this who confirms it is just an experimental version. The augmetic appears to only be active on the elbow joint. The scientist appears to be requesting the subject extend his arm in an attempt to punch an invisible foe. Upon doing so the augmetic appears to cause an extreme reaction of force, resulting in not only damage to the subjects musculature, but outright stripping the subjects muscle tissues away from the bones, the pins seem to be functioning as anchor points as the subjects skin and muscles are removed from the skeletal structure. Functionally stripping the flesh away from the skeleton in a manner that can only be described as ‘glove like’. It appears that this area also contained the drug delivery interface as part way through the emergency removal of the upper section of the augmetic, the subject seemed to come out of the semi stupor and begin to register the damage done to themselves, screaming and becoming violent. It was only after the subject was re-drugged with the remaining contents of the drug reservoir that they calmed down.

His attempts to block out the sound do not stop him from hearing the hydraulic hiss, the tight whirr, and the horrific cracking popping noise as flesh is torn from bone. The screaming echoed around in his head. His heart was beating at a million miles an hour. Sweat poured down his back and neck and in between his shoulder blades. Flashes of red sky cut before his vision, the sound of gunfire and the smell of ash.

Admiral kelly squeezed his shoulder hard bringing him back. The dog was halfway in his lap her head pressed against him, and the Bailiff from earlier was on his other side steadying him as his body seemed prone to leaning to one side.

He took a few very deep breaths.

A few of the judges were watching him, but they didn’t stop the proceedings this time. Most of them just looked like they wanted an excuse to look away.

“Your honors, this is not the last log in the series. Even after the catastrophic failure, they continue to implant the steel ee pieces onto test subjects without prior testing in a controlled environment. I believe we have been making realistic ballistic dummies for the past thousand years. I am sure there is something that could have been done.”

Adam was fading.

The lights were growing up in his vision, turning everything around him white.

The defence stood, “THe defence calls for recess, your honors.”

There was a pause, “Recess granted. You have thirty minutes.”

The room burst into a flurry of murmurs and movement. Admiral Kelly leaned forward hands on his arms, “Adam, you should get up, walk around a bit.”

He nodded and stood feeling the world tip around him as he did. With one hand he gripped heavily onto the back of the pews and staggered forward out of the room. Waffles followed after him whining and whimpering. He waved admiral Kelly off him as he wobbled his way down the hall and burst through the outside door and into open air. He took a deep long breath and leaned against the wall trying to choke down the bile that welled into his throat.

“You alright here buddy.”

Blinking owlishly, he turned to the side to see a man leaning against the wall on the other side of the door.

“You don’t look so good, Cigarette?” He asked offering a pack of the things towards him.

Adam waved a hand, “I don’t smoke but, thanks anyway.”

The man shrugged and lit up puffing a billow of smoke into the air, “You know breathing exercises.”

Adam blinked and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Don't forget to do them. It will help.”

Adam rubbed a hand across his forehead breathing slowly.

“You seem to know a lot about this. Am i that easy to see through?”

The man shook his head “I was a soldier during the panasian war, I know what PTSD looks like.”

“My father fought in the Panasian war.”

The man nodded, “Better get back inside while you still have some color, boy.”

He did as told. He didn’t know the man but something about his calm demeanor and understanding was nice, and he stepped back inside patting waffles on the head as he walked back towards the courtroom.

He sat down before anyone else was there just yet and rested his head in his hands breathing slowly and evenly. The room slowly filled up again, and before he really knew it, things were back in session.

“The prosecution would like to present Experimental log 31”

He closed his eyes and began to count slowly breathing in and out, in and out.”

Experimental log #31

This test is the first among the replacement for servo motors for hydraulics The system was far slower and makes use of a combination of fast extension pistons and slower extension ones for combination. The test is the same as before a simple arm extension in the guise of a punch. However the augmetic will also include the shoulder. We have increased the dosage of the painkiller as so to prevent the increased implantation volume from inducing a negative reaction in the subject. -Recording break-

The reaction from the hydraulics was stronger than expected, and the delay and stack up of orders has caused significant issues. A halt override taken directly from the nerve system needs to be implemented.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut

Audio-visual log transcript:

The subject appears to be only semi responsive, appearing to function at a 12 on the GCS, Only held there by the active responsiveness of their motor function. This appears to fade somewhat when the subject is given physical stimuli by the scientist in the form of a light slap on the cheek. Bringing the subject back to consciousness. The subject is then encouraged to make the punching action as prior experiments. The subject does so, the fast reaction of the piston seems to achieve the scientist's goal, However the long extension piston appeared to continue extending. This continued, dragging the subjects arm outwards, dislocating the subjects shoulder, then elbow as well as wrist. The subject appeared to be distressed at this, however not unduly in pain. The scientist having stepped back to observe the outcome of events. The extension of the piston continued beyond tolerable human limits. The piston continues to extend despite the protests of the subject and attempts at removing it. The extension continued forcefully separating the subjects limbs at both the elbow and shoulder joint, ripping tendon and muscle as well as ligament structures, fully separating the limb in to two parts and away from the body. It is at this point the subject began to scream in terror and panic till the researcher sedated the subject.

A door opened at the back of the courtroom as a few more people stepped out. Adam sat there on the bench, his head tilted back and staring at the ceiling breathing even and slowly as light and color swirled around them. He could what speaking, but didn’t really hear what was being said.

He just had to keep himself together.

“....Log 35 to the court.”

Experimental log #35

Continued experimentation indicates that a combination of servo motors, torsion cables and hydraulics are likely to result in the desired effect. Since the previous experiments a stop override has been implemented in to the systems. This prevents the hydraulics from continuing to extend despite the users body having ceased movement. This should result in the desired movement structures. We are moving on from the single arm testing considering the current functionality and strength amplification satisfactory. The current test is simply to get the two lower limb implants to function in tandem with walking. We have had to once again increase the level of drugs in the users system to prevent the reaction to the pain induced by the interfacing devices.

-Recording break-

While the system is capable of walking, the addition of hydraulics have caused the system to be heavier and more cumbersome than intended. Additional servo motors and possible leaf springs for artificial support tendons will have to be added to prevent the augmetics from lagging behind their users.

“Objection your honor…. The court has seen enough….. This is simply…”

“Objection denied council. The evidence stands. If you must you may leave the room.”

“But members of the audience…”

“Can step out if they need to.”

Audio-visual Log transcript:

The subject once again appears to be somewhat unresponsive. This ceases when the scientist provides a physical interaction with the subject, tapping them on the shoulder. The subject appears to be somewhat disoriented. Upon being prompted to walk the subject beings to walk without much in the way of impediment, though seeming to tug at the augments as if they are holding the subject back. The subject is then prompted to move at a might higher speed. Running if possible. The subject manages this for two steps before the continued pulling against the augmetic and movement against the interface needles appears to pull the subject’s leg free, removing large sections of the subjects muscle tissues and nerves along with it. The subject seems to be disturbed, if not in pain. Likely due to the drug reservoir and input mounted on the subjects arm. The subject however seems to be announcing that they can no longer move their legs as the researcher requested. The subject is then sedated and recording ends.

Adam is being held up again by Admiral kelly his body tilting widely sideways and he is having trouble finding the orientation of the room.”

“.... experimental log 38 as a demonstration of the scientists moving development far too quickly.”

Experimental Log #38

Increased response time in the legs combined with the introduction of support springs within the armour have reduced that movement restrictions of the armour and made it much harder for the user to ‘pull away’ from the armor, this combined with several additional straps and metal binding to keep the users legs attached directly to the augmetics have solved several of the most recent problems. The newest set of experiments are moving on to vertical movement, focusing on the subjects ability to jump and move around obstacle strewn environments.

-Recording break-

It appears the engineers did not calibrate the hydraulics and other systems to function as shock absorbers, but rather only as force amplification devices. Meaning that impact shock is taken fully by the users body, This would normally not be an issue, however with the additional force and weight provided by the augmetic seems to cause issues upon landing.

Audio-visual Log transcript:

The subject is suffering the same symptoms as prior subjects, low levels of function and unresponsiveness. Once the subject is roused from the stupor via an open handed impact to the cheek, delivered by the researcher, they are directed to attempt an obstacle course. The subject seems to have little trouble with the primary obstacles, clearing them with little effort, however their recovery from each obstacle appears to be ungainly and improper. The subject is then presented with a three meter high wall and instructed to go over it. Rather than scaling it as expected the subject simply jumped over the wall, exhibiting far more mobility and control than prior subjects in experiments. However upon landing the subjects legs appear to buckle and collapse under them, folding at several points that do not have joints. Indicating shattering of the bones. The subject seems unphased by the injury, Pointing it out to the researcher and asking if that is normal. This indicates that the drugs being used are of a high enough dosage and strength to suppress not only extreme pain but the shock reaction of the body.

He can feel another person holding him up from the other side, but mutters that he is ok when anyone asks. E just keeps counting and breathing counting and breathing knowing that it has to be over soon. He just needs to hold himself together

Experimental log #42

The final tests regarding midriff functionality have been completed, with shockingly low failure or complications compared to prior testing phases, we are putting this down to our own excellent ongoing improvements of the system. This final text is a sequential system test where a single subject will be required to use each individual part in sequence to ensure that no errors are likely to occur during the whole body testing or further complications are likely to occur.

-break in recording-

The subject suffered no ill effects due to the armour itself. However the subject seemed to become agitated and seemed to be suffering ill effects until they were returned to the augmetics. So long as prolonged exposure to the augmetics is not an ongoing factor we do not see an issue with this.

“These testings had immense costs and horrific side effects to those who participated. Many of these men and women seen here are not functional or alive to testify in court as to what happened, however, the prosecution would like to call Admiral Vir to the stand as a representative of those who could not be here today, and s a member of the steel eye operation himself to ive the court a little idea about what this experiment did to people even when fully operational.”

Adam was still feeling light headed but even then he still knew what this was. This is what he was here for. Thi was the moment he had come to be a part of, the moment that he was here to help all those soldiers and test subjects used by steel eye.

Admiral Kelly stood with him as he made it to his feet, but he brushed off her hand and walked towards the witness stand. The judge stopped him on his way up.

“Are you well enough to testify Admiral?”

“This is why I came, your honor. Even if I had to crawl through a field of glass to get here.”

The courtroom murmured as he was sworn in, and he sat down feeling the eyes of the entire room on him.

He was still sweating and light headed.

“State your name for the record.”

“Adam Allen Vir.”

“And what is your position in the UNSC.”

“I am Fleet admiral of the UNSC space armada on loan to the GA.”

“And what branch?”

“Originally the air division. I trained at the Aerial combat academy as a fighter and shuttle pilot before being a member of the crew on the enterprise.”

“And how did you end up on Anin.”

“The Enterprise was being decommissioned for some wok, so I offered to go to Anin and be part of the war effort against the Drev.”

“And as a fighter pilot, you didn’t see much time on the ground.”

“No ma’am, I was primarily air support at that time.”

His voice was strong and hard, and the longer he talked the straighter he sat. he had to do this for them. He would NOT fall apart now.

“How did you end up on the ground forces then, Admiral.”

“Volcanic activity, ma’am, they call it the dark season when ash chokes the ai miles into the sky. It isn’t safe to land a ship or fly a jet in such conditions, so my vehicle was grounded. By that time the war was going badly and they needed every man they could get.”

“Were you trained for ground combat, Admiral.”

“Yes at the academy we were trained in ground combat though not as extensively.”

“And you lost your leg to a Drev.”

He reached down hand to his leg remembering the screaming of a red sky above, “Yes, I did.”

“What happened after that?”

“I ended up in a triage tent in out forward operating base. There was no medicine because all our supplies had been used up.”

“Would you say that you were delirious during that time.”

The defence stood quickly “Objection your honor. Leading the witness.”

“Dismissed, council.” The judge said, waving a hand.

“There were no painkillers, ma’am, so maybe. If not delirious than I was at least not in a right state of mind. I remember floating halfway in between being conscious and unconscious. I was in so much pain its…. Had to describe.” His voice wavered before he had it back on track shoring it up and strengthening it with memories of the men and women waiting back at the rehabilitation center.

“And at this time you were approached by Admiral Ablemen about the steel eye project?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And did he detail any specifics.”

He paused thought for a moment trying to remember back into memories that he really didn’t want to foster, “Not…. really. It's hard to remember but I…. I remember him saying that we could help him win the war. I remember him saying that when I woke up I would be a new man. He gave us the choice to go home or serve the UNSC one last time.”

“In your opinion, would you have said yes had you been more conscious.”

“Objection based on conjecture your honor.”

“Objection accepted.”

Adam paused and the mn let him continue, “Wat DO you remember about what happened to you.”

“I…. remember pain and….. Anger. I was never really all there during the steel eye project. I remember feeling invincible, like I could do anything but at the same time, hazy. I remember getting orders and going out, and then nothing after that.”

“Did they tell you there would be rugs involved.”

“No ma’am.”

“And after the war was over, what happened. How did all of this affect you?”

He paused and struggled to speak for a moment, opening his mouth and then closing, “I…. have never been so hopeless in my entire life. I tried to get help with the Veterans association but my claim was denied. I…. went through withdrawals…. Horrible horrible drug withdrawals where I. I was in so much pain, I just….”He paused then lifted his head to look up at th courtroom making eye contact with them. His voice was as strong as ever “I wanted to die, and I would have done it if I hadn’t had a good support system in my family. After a few months my brother got me in contact with a group of people who got ahold of my service dog, and I was able to heal.”

“Does what happened still affect you”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“In what ways.”

“I still have long term PTSD, and while it is controlled and I am no longer on medication, I still have bad days. Days where I can’t move or think, days where the quietest nosies send me into a panic.”

“Were you ever compensated for your injuries, Admiral.”

He paused again and shook his head, “No ma’am, I never received help.”

“Thank you admiral, you may be seated.”

He stood, his head was clear and his hands were dry. He stepped down from the podium with his chin raised and his back straight returning to his seat. He had done it. He had done what he needed to do and the only thing that was lft was to survive the rest of the trail.

He could do that.

He survived operation steel eye didn’t he?

So he could certainly survive this.

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swissmissficrecs · 4 years ago

Note

Any PTSD Sherlock fics? Thank you as always.

Reply: Yes, definitely! First off, here are some older, related lists:

PTSD John

John discovers Sherlock’s scars + Part 2

Sherlock Whump

PTSD tag

And from that tag, here are the ones where Sherlock is the sufferer:

PTSD Sherlock

A River Without Banks by Chryse (203K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) "You love this, being Sherlock Holmes." He had once. When had it all gone so wrong?

All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings (188K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock sent Jim Moriarty to prison for killing Carl Powers at age ten. This is the story of the consequences.

Andante by uraneia (12K, T, Johnlock) Three months afterward, a stranger appears at 221B. (AKA: The one where Sherlock shows up on John’s doorstep with serious injuries and amnesia, and John thinks he’s a homeless man seeking medical attention.)

Command Structure by 221b_hound (49K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes returns from his hunt to destroy Moriarty's network. He has returned fractured and suffering anxiety attacks. He thinks he needs discipline - the whip - to help him focus and be strong. But his problems are deeper and run back to a childhood of neglect.

Hounds by quietasasleepingarmy (21K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock enlists John's help with a case that falls far beyond his area of expertise. Post-HLV.

I'll Follow You Into the Dark by fearfully_beautifully_made (19K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock's got quite an imagination, he always has. As a child, he had very vivid dreams; they come back with a vengeance after all that has happened in the past few years. Luckily for him, his best friend moved back in and has some experience with PTSD and nightmares. He seems more than willing to lend a helping hand.

Johnlock Advent 2018 by sussexbound (47K, E, Johnlock) Starting today (the 1st of December) and all the way up to the 25th, the chapter of a fic and accompanying drawing will be posted here (and on my tumblr). It’s so great, and we are all very excited.

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (57K, M, Johnlock) An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (39K, M, Johnlock) Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (87K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Written from Sherlock's POV.

Not the Fall that Kills You by Ranowa (39K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock's been falling ever since he stepped off Bart's roof two years ago. Now, he's back home, but as it turns out, he's still not ready to land. (Part of a longer series but can be read alone.)

Not the King’s Men by StoneWingedAngel (56K, T, Johnlock) John finds Sherlock three years after he thought he'd buried him, scared and injured; broken to such an extent he can barely recognise those trying to help him. Battling against too many unanswered questions and his own feelings, John sets out to put him back together, but never stops to consider Sherlock's return may be part of a greater punishment in store for the both of them. (Note: This fic has been deleted, the link goes to the Wayback Archive. Download and save, as it may disappear at any time.)

On the Rack by 7PercentSolution, J_Baillier (286K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock goes to rehab (of the other sort), starts scraping his life back together, attempts to solve a case, and tries to make sense of what it actually means to be in a relationship.

Sharp Bits and Safe Paths by midgetnazgul (22K, E, Johnlock) John learns Sherlock sacrificed much more than he ever could have believed in his time away.

Sherlock, P.I. by Callie4180 (83K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) Sherlock, P.I. is an American television show that follows the exciting adventures of genius private investigator Sherlock Homes and his friends as they live their lives on the beautiful island of Oahu in Hawaii. Sherlock solves crimes as he wrestles with the ghosts and demons of his past.

That Obscure Object by emmadelosnardos (23K, T, Johnlock) Danger was a green pool in an inner courtyard, the wet slide of skin against skin, the risk of being caught. Danger was a needle under the floorboards, opium in the toe of a slipper, the subterfuge of his habit. Danger was a shabby cabbie, even odds, an aneurysm.

The Broken Tether by J_Baillier (54K, M, Johnlock) Maybe he thinks that you only enjoy his company because of the Work, because of the way his dazzling intellect shines when he's in his element, but the truth is this: it is when he is at his most human, most bare, that you feel closest to him.

The Fabric of Life - orphaned (156K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) The fabric of life rearranges itself around the re-emergence of Sherlock.

The Ground Beneath Your Feet by Chryse (68K, E, Johnlock) Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.

The Holiday by Scriblit (18K, M, Gen) A month following an horrific, sadistic attack during a case, Sherlock is still physically incapacitated and emotionally damaged. A holiday is suggested, but even stuck out in the middle of nowhere, he and John happen upon a case that could make Sherlock begin to feel like his old self again - or could kill him.

The Silence After by wendymarlowe (25K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock may have physically survived his abduction, but in his mind he'll never be whole again. John understands PTSD, understands what Sherlock is going through, and is determined to be patient. Angst, hurt/comfort, and eventual Johnlock as Sherlock tries to rebuild his ability to trust.

The Victim Experience by J_Baillier (16K, T, Gen) A case takes Sherlock and John deep into the seedy underbelly of the haunted attractions industry. With audiences craving more and more intense experiences, is a real murder the next logical step?

Truth May Vary by amalnahurriyeh (93K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) Seven years after Sherlock's death, John's life is normal. And then it isn't.

Underground Rescue by khorazir (48K, M, Johnlock) All kinds of danger lurk in the disused stations of the London Underground. When Sherlock goes missing, John has to play detective to find him, while Sherlock faces demons both present and past.

White Tulip by withoutawish (40K, E, Johnlock and Warstan) Sherlock is in love with John Watson. John Watson is in love with Mary Morstan. Sherlock likes Mary Morstan just fine. Sherlock likes drugs more. And most importantly, Sherlock doesn’t like Sherlock.

You Go to My Head series by J_Baillier (865K, T to E, Johnlock) This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson (senior neuroanaesthetist) and Holmes (neurosurgeon). (Several of the installments deal with PTSD in some form or other.)

Your Perfect Offering by CaitlinFairchild (44K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock rolls away and sits up on the edge of the bed, his back to John.“A great many things happened in Serbia,” he says, flat and remote. “None of them were pleasant.”

#request #rec list #ptsd #mental health #angst #honeybeemotorcycles

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threeletterslife · 4 years ago

Text

[Finale] 02 | Ignis Fatuus

→ part 1 | part 2

→ summary: Who knew six grown men plus stupid Jeon Jungkook were so whiny? You're out here in a fucking zombie apocalypse for God's sake. They need to grow the fuck up. And while all of you are waiting for the zombies to eat your brains, why don't you play a nice game of rated-R never have I ever?

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | NC-17

→ genre: 60% crack, 40% angst | apocalypse!au

→ warnings: profanity, depictions of blood, gore and death, sexual innuendos, crude humor

→ wordcount: 6.8k

cr.

You wake with your entire body feeling like it's blazing in a pit of fire. The moment you open your eyes, you wince, the harsh sunlight pouring through the window and chasing away every shadow in the room. It feels like you're in a dream. Everything is so hazy. Colored weirdly. But the excruciating pain in your body screams otherwise. This is reality.

Immediately, Jungkook rushes to your side.

"You're awake! Thank god," he cries. Gingerly, he takes your hands in his and squeezes. "We're all going to get you to the hospital."

You're not in the state to argue, barely even being able to lift your head to nod at his words. If you were in the right state, you would've pointed out the obvious logical flaw in the plan. Risk seven lives for one? Really? But then again, you're in no place to argue. Coherent thoughts are rare now. You can barely remember the date or the month or the year. It all seems like such useless information when you think you're spiraling down to death.

"We need to get her out of bed," Yoongi says, crossing his arm as he leans against the door frame. He glances at you worriedly before biting the inside of his cheek. "And we should leave now so we don't arrive there at night."

The others peek in behind Yoongi, giving you concerned looks while clutching makeshift weapons, which were really dense household objects.

"Here, I'll piggyback her," Jungkook says. "You good with that?" he whispers to you to confirm.

With a delirious smile, you mumble your answer.

Jungkook returns a meek smile before helping you out of bed and hoisting you on his back. "Comfortable?" he grunts as he shifts his hold on your legs

"Mmm," you manage to hum. You're starting to feel tired again, head limp to the side as your eyelids threaten to flutter shut.

"That's it... try to sleep," Seokjin says, reaching over to pat your back. With his other hand, he grasps his favorite fry pan (his choice of weapon) that had gotten sweaty around the handle already.

"Shouldn't we try to keep her awake?" Hoseok counters.

"Too late now," Jimin points out.

You've fallen asleep again. Though it's not a very deep sleep, it helps you forget the overwhelming pain for just a few minutes more.

"I-I don't know," Namjoon says. He nervously carries Jungkook's baseball bat, awkwardly holding it out in front of him—as if he were carrying a repulsive slug and not wielding a weapon. "I don't know if we should let her sleep or keep her awake."

"But you're the only one with enough medical knowledge to determine that!" Taehyung sighs.

"Sometimes, it's just common sense," Namjoon snaps rather crossly. "But even that can't save us now."

The men look helplessly at you sleeping on Jungkook's back.

"We need to stop wasting time," Hoseok finally sighs after the long silence. "We'll be fine, all right. We'll do exactly as planned."

"Wait, we had a plan??" Taehyung asks incredulously.

"Oh, god."

The walk is arduous. The dirt road is much better to travel by vehicle; otherwise, the dust flies up and around everywhere and gets in everyone's shoes and lungs. The group hasn't even reached the city yet, but everyone's irritated already.

You're dipping in and out of consciousness, sometimes being awoken when Jungkook takes a heavier step or when a shock of pain travels across your body. Every time you wake, you wish you'd never opened your eyes.

Your friends are always silent, their eyes trailed straight in front of them. Yoongi occasionally looks at the GPS on his phone, but other than that, the mood is solemn. Too solemn.

Jungkook trails behind the group, obviously being slowed down by the extra weight he's carrying on his back. No one mentions his lagging pace.

But once you catch a weary glimpse of the towering buildings starting to come into perspective, you realize the group is starting to head into the city.

"We need to be very careful," Hoseok warns. "I don't see any of those freaks right now, but—"

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING, DUDE?" Jimin shrieks in a high-pitched scream. "THERE'S LIKE TWENTY OF THEM RIGHT THERE!"

The moment he points, a cluster of the brain-dead monsters all turn their heads around to stare at the eight of you. They begin to limp towards the group.

"Great," Seokjin rolls his eyes. "If they didn't know we were here before, they know now."

"No time for sarcasm," Jungkook grunts, adjusting your legs so you don't slide off of his back. "We need to get the hell away!"

"And stay quiet!" Taehyung puts his finger to his lips, staring down Jimin, who's shivering in fear already.

"Okay, okay!"

And everyone sprints off.

The zombies groan in vast numbers, dragging their decaying bodies toward you in hopes of sinking their rotting teeth into your flesh. The team uses the buildings and the shadows to its advantage, dodging in and out of the light to confuse the dull monsters. But staying inside for months without much moving had obliterated everyone's stamina.

Jungkook's sweating so much that you're starting to slide off of his back, slowing him down. The others are panting, out of breath and struggling to continue running for their lives.

"W-We," Namjoon gasps, "h-have to s-stop!"

"A-And what?" Yoongi wheezes. "D-DIE??"

Namjoon lets out a disgruntled noise, but Taehyung interrupts his next words, whispers urgently, "There! We can hide there!"

Sure enough, there's a dark corner that Taehyung's pointing to that looks relatively safe. Everyone quickly looks at each other, gauging expressions, silently calculating the possibility of what had the higher possibility of survival—running or hiding. And with everyone physically exhausted—Jungkook especially struggling—the latter is deemed as the smarter choice. Quickly, the eight of you file into the dark corner, Taehyung leading the way.

The moment the group is out of sight from the zombies, Jungkook lets you slide off of his back. He collapses on the group, panting quietly and letting you lean against his arm. The others stand absolutely still, wiping sweat off their brows but not daring to move their feet.

Ten minutes later, the hoard of zombies begins to limp near the dark corner in which you're hiding. It seems like they'll pass by, too dumb to comprehend where their meals had gone. They don't exactly have the brain capacity to suspect that the humans had, indeed, outsmarted them and had hidden away.

"Just look at 'em, those idiots," Taehyung mutters underneath his breath.

"S-Shut up, Tae." Jimin shakes in fear, biting at his nails. The poor man looks just about ready to cry. "Don't say that. Don't even talk. Just don't, dude."

There's a reason why Jimin never stepped out of the house again after the initial outbreak. He's visibly terrified. And even so, he can't tear his eyes away from watching those monsters, slowly but surely making their way past the dark corner.

"Just a few more steps..." Jungkook whispers to you.

You don't know what he means.

"Just a few more steps and we'll be safe..." he says. "Just a few more—"

"Will you shush??" Jimin shrieks.

The moment he raises his voice, the color drains from his cheeks. Big mistake.

The last few zombies who had been trailing near the back of the hoard pause. They look around. Then, they start to limp towards the dark corner.

Everyone scrambles up, hearts beating wildly in your chests. Jungkook tries to help you on his back again, but when his knees almost give out, Seokjin has to volunteer to carry you instead, much to Jungkook's protests. But with a silent look from Seokjin, Jungkook begrudgingly takes the frying pan from the older man and lets you go.

"Fuck, Jimin, you really had to be that loud?" Jungkook sighs.

Jimin's absolutely frozen, eyes looking back and forth between the group and the zombies that are starting to limp towards them to investigate the signs of life. "I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he stutters, gripping his t-shirt and shaking his head in disbelief.

Taehyung sighs. "It's okay. We'll just need to run before they get closer," Taehyung quickly says. "Everyone on my count of three, okay?"

No one dares to speak another work, all opting to nod instead.

"One... two..." Taehyung says. He pauses and swallows before whispering: "Three."

And then he's off, running. The zombies roar in surprise. But Taehyung's too fast for them, the other members of the group right behind him and dodging the zombie's grasping mutilated hands. All except—

"Jimin!" Namjoon gasps quietly. "Wait, I swear, he was right behind me but—"

But there's barely time to stop. Seokjin stumbles when Jimin's pleading shrieks and screams echo throughout the dilapidated city. He quickly regains his balance, gripping your legs tighter before sprinting even faster to catch up to Taehyung. Hoseok's covering his ears, while tears stream down Namjoon's face. Jungkook is biting his lip so hard, he's drawing blood. Yoongi's pale as a ghost. Even Taehyung looks shaken, brows furrowing. But he grits his teeth and continues running.

There's no time to mourn, to time to stop. Everything is a blur.

Minutes of running full speed. Minutes of silent tears. Minutes after Jimin's death.

Finally, the group slows down to a normal walking pace when Taehyung points out that the zombies aren't chasing after them anymore.

By this time, you're silently crying—because you're in physical pain or because of Jimin's death—you're not really sure. Jungkook walks by Seokjin, stealing a couple of worried glances at you. But everyone is worried at this state.

"No more wrong moves," Hoseok mumbles. "No more freezing. No more yelling. No more of anything drastic. I don't want to lose another person."

Everyone nods in agreement. And the walk in silence commences.

"Four more hours," Yoongi says. "Just four more left."

It does little to uplift the plummeting spirits.

When the road turns twisty, Taehyung orders everyone to line up behind him, single-file. He'll check to see if the coast is clear. Cautiously, he checks around the bend to see any threats, but turn after turn, there's nothing waiting for the group. After a while, Taehyung gets more and more careless, walking straight around the curve without even checking if the coast was clear beforehand. The rest of the group starts to relax a bit more. It doesn't quite look like there are zombies around in this area of the city.

You're getting more and more delirious by the second, barely able to see what's ahead of you. You've already mistaken Seokjin for Jungkook twice, and Jungkook still doesn't quite know if you fully comprehend that Jimin.... that Jimin's gone.

Namjoons fiddles with the baseball bat and Hoseok just fidgets nervously—never feeling safe out in the open like this.

And the next time Taehyung turns a corner without looking, a zombie jumps out at him. "Oh shit!" he yells. The two of them tumble to the ground, Taehyung wrestling for his life and screaming out vulgar profanities. The rest of the group freezes—still behind the safety of the wall and not yet visible to whatever monsters that were around the corner.

"Go!" Taehyung screams. "There's more coming to get me!"

Not for one second does he look genuinely scared. But everyone else is.

"Go!" Taehyung yells again when he sees the members hesitate, shell-shocked and pained. "I'm serious! I'll be okay!"

He won't be. Not with all the other zombies coming for his neck. But the others aren't left with a choice—it's either run and leave Tae behind... or everyone dies.

Jungkook doesn't have to say it out loud, but his wide eyes shaped with pain, sorrow and regret speak volumes. Taehyung answers him with a wild grin. Everyone else isn't able to meet his eyes as he fights for the last few minutes of his life. And the group runs away again, forced to abandon yet another member.

None of them stops running. It's like an endless workout—except, when you stop, you don't risk getting less of a calorie burn, you risk death. It's tortuous, really. Especially when you realize that you're a burden. Seokjin has to stop running for a few seconds to take in big gulps of air. He looks almost too tired to move on. Unable to fathom another member giving in to death, Hoseok commands Seokjin: "Hey, I'll carry her."

Hoseok's grip on you is strong but unsure at the same time. He's scared that he'll make you feel uncomfortable (more uncomfortable than you already are, given the wrecked circumstances), and consequently, he's making himself feel worried sick too.

The running presumes.

Everyone is too afraid to stop.

Jungkook gives you worried glances from time to time, but he doesn't offer to take you back. Probably because he can't risk it.

Morale is low, but at least the pain tolerance is high. Everything is a hazy blur to you; it's hard to make up your emotions and comprehend your own feelings through the dull pain. Everyone else is too high on adrenaline to digest the happenings. But you wonder when the pain will finally hit.

It feels like a fever dream. That's what it is. Unspeakable tragedies unfolding before you in rapid succession, leaving you no time to react. So you stay limp.

Finally, after who knows how long, Yoongi orders everyone to stop running. The six of you find refuge in another dark corner that comes right before a wider street.

"Three..." Yoongi pants. "T-Three more... h-hours," he manages to say in between hard breaths. Sweat drips from his hair to his forehead but that's obviously the least of his worries now.

"We're going to have to be more careful," Hoseok says, shifting you on his back but never letting you go.

"Well, what do you think we've been trying to do this whole time??" Namjoon says in an irritated voice. The stress, the pressure, the situation is finally getting to him.

"We can't fight now, Joon," Hoseok answers, shaking his head.

It takes a crisis to get to know one; Hoseok's somehow matured since the last life-and-death disaster.

"You're right. You're right, Hoseok," Namjoon sighs, running his hands through his wet hair. "I'm sorry... I'm just—"

"It's all right," Seokjin says, patting his friend's back. "It's okay. We'll get through."

Jungkook nods. "It's only three more hours."

"There's a wide street just around the corner," Yoongi says. "I don't know if it's gonna work to our advantage, though. Wide streets are theoretically safer than narrow streets... But we're going to feel more out in the open."

"At this point, we can only hope that everything's going to our advantage," Namjoon says. "May I look at the map?" Yoongi hands Namjoon his phone wordlessly. Namjoon studies the map as he always tends to study his binder of med school notes. "I see..." he mumbles to himself. His hands fumble around the small Nokia device, fingers sweaty and shaking as he zooms in and out of the map.

"Sorry to say, but studying the map's not going to increase our survival chances," Jungkook sighs. "I think we should keep on going. That's what we've been doing, right? We just have to keep on going."

"Right..." Namjoon sighs. "Sorry—you're right. Sorr—"

Just as he's about to hand Yoongi his device back, the phone slips from his hand. In slow-motion, everyone watches in horror as the phone plummets to the ground. It makes a loud, echoing clatter when it finally hits the cement.

Immediately, Jungkook acts. "We gotta get in that building!" He points to one near the dark corner. "If any zombies were nearby—"

It doesn't become an if when the horrifying groans of the zombies begin to grow near.

Hoseok's shaking; consequently, so are you.

"How will we know that the building's safe inside??" Yoongi says. He doesn't mean to be rude or to burst anyone's bubble, but it's a chilling possibility that the building isn't safe at all.

"We won't," Seokjin quickly says. "But I'd rather take a chance." He bends down and picks up Yoongi's seemingly unbreakable phone and begins to run towards the building with everyone else at his heels.

By now, the zombies are visible to the six of you, which means they can see you as well. There are about fifteen of them (give or take five), and they grow louder and louder when they realize they're going to have a rich feast. The excitement makes them quick. Before you know it, they're hot on your tracks.

Jungkook's the first one to reach the door to the building. Carefully, he tugs on the door handle. Nothing. It won't even budge. Sweat begins to accumulate on his neck as a form of slow panic.

"Fuck! It won't open!" he hisses.

Seokjin shoves him to the side. He tries to open the door. "Damn, it's wedged shut!"

"What do we do?" Namjoon says, his voice shaky. He keeps glancing back at the zombies starting to close in on the group. "Shit, what do we do??"

"Oh, move aside!" Yoongi shrieks. He grabs the door handle with two hands, places a foothold on the wall next to the door and pulls. The door pops open. A wave of relief passes through his face. "Hurry!"

The zombies are closing in quickly. They're almost an arm's reach away.

Hoseok falls into the building first, carrying you to safety. Yoongi's next and then Seokjin, who clutches onto Yoongi's phone as if it's his lifeline (and not his frying pan). Jungkook manages to wack a few zombies away with the frying pan, but when one almost grabs his leg, he throws away his efforts and leaps into the building. Namjoon isn't so lucky. He's the last one trying to get in, but a monster grabs his arm, making him drop the baseball bat. Another grabs his leg. They begin to grasp onto his limbs with their withered, decaying hands. Namjoon tries to scream, but he must have remembered that the zombies are sound sensitive. The louder he is, the more he'll be ripped apart to pieces to share. But the tears brim around his eyes when he realizes he won't ever make it. There are too many to fight off... He looks away.

Hoseok's the one who has to close the door on him.

The next minutes that follow (that feel like hours) are the worst. Everyone can hear the tearing of flesh, the disastrous chomping of organs... It becomes too much. Everyone blocks their ears. Except you. You're forced to sit through it. Unable to react and too pained to really feel anything. The zombies try to hit their heads against the door, but they're too stupid to actually open it. And as quickly as they had come, they leave, figuring that one human out of what had originally been six was enough for now.

Again, the group is devastated. But everyone's too tired to cry.

Hoseok had let you down from his back and you're wearing Jungkook's sweater, but you're still whimpering, though you had no idea that sound was you in the beginning. You shiver when the others are sweating and red in the face. You can barely see ahead of you either.

"She's getting worse," Jungkook says, biting his lip.

"Great. Just great," Hoseok sighs. "No one here knows anything about medicine now."

"...Well, there's always Google," Yoongi says, looking unsure himself. "I mean, if the hospital has a good connection..." He trails off, unable to finish his sentence. "Anyways, I don't hear the zombies anymore. I think we should leave. I'll carry Y/N this time."

"We still have three more hours left," Seokjin says. "Yoongi's right. We should go before it gets too dark."

No one can argue with that.

Maybe the bad luck had run out—after killing off nearly half of the group, misfortune takes pity on the rest of you. Or maybe the ones who were left were careful enough; they've learned from the others' mistakes. Nothing particularly noteworthy happens from the journey out of the building to the hospital. It's a silent journey too. One where there's more silent communicating (with eyes and gestures) than words.

Your cheeks are wet from the sweat on Yoongi's neck, but they look more like the remnants of the tears that had never fallen from your eyes.

Three hours becomes two. Then one... And soon, zero.

The five of you stand in front of the hospital, a bit off to the side to observe the surroundings before even thinking of coming close.

Yoongi curses under his breath after he observes the scene. "There's no way we'll get in there unscathed."

He's right. There are zombies limping about the vicinity—all in medical scrubs and patient gowns. There's something coldly chilling about that sight. It doesn't settle right within anyone.

You're starting to slip past Yoongi's grip and he grunts quietly as he hoists you up again. "Any ideas?" he sighs.

"Yeah," Jungkook answers. "First off, I'll take Y/N." There's a silent switch before you're back on Jungkook's back again. "Second... um, no, I don't have any ideas."

"Just great," Hoseok sighs. "We came all the way here and..." he trails off, afraid to finish what he had started.

"What are we going to do?" Seokjin says. He looks between the group and the hoard of zombies. "We can't just... go back."

"That'd be even crazier," Yoongi scoffs. He wipes the sweat from his neck and pockets his phone. "We lost three friends today to come this far. Do you want to lose three more of us to get back?"

No one answers.

"We have to remain positive," Jungkook says. He bites his lip again, the skin beginning to tear as a result of his constant state of anxiousness. "For Y/N, at least."

"It's never going to work," Hoseok says bluntly.

Seokjin frowns. "Staying positive?"

"No, no," Hoseok sighs. "I mean, we're never going to be able to get inside the hospital... Unless... Well, unless..."

"Unless?" Yoongi questions, raising his eyebrows.

"Unless..." Hoseok is slow, thinking through and through before he speaks. "Unless I distract them," he finally concludes. "You guys can go in while I lead them the other way."

"No..." Jungkook breathes. "You can't do that."

"Hoseok..." Yoongi shakes his head.

"Buddy, it's not time to be a hero now," Seokjin adds to the looks of disapproval.

You have no idea what's going on—too far gone to tell, but the tone of their voices is enough for you to know that the group is sad. The sadness weighs you down too.

"It was nice knowing you guys, really," Hoseok says. He shrugs, but his hands shake in fear. Quickly, he hides them behind his back so no one sees. "But I think it's time that I did some of the dirty work around here."

No one's quick enough to stop him. Before anyone else can react, he runs. He runs toward the crowd of monsters. Immediately, Hoseok captures their attention, and they groan as they begin to follow him away.

The group waits, horrified, scared, worried.

Hoseok never looks back.

And soon, he disappears. Along with the zombies.

There isn't time to waste. Everyone runs toward the hospital, sure that there were no zombies around now. And once inside, you all collapse, nearly on top of each other too.

"Selfless bastard," Yoongi wheezes, tears running down his face.

"If Namjoon were alive, he would've said that was such an oxymoron," Jungkook scoffs, wiping his wet eyes with the back of his hand. "Always the intelligent fool."

"And then Jimin and Taehyung would've told him to shut up," Seokjin says, crying silently. "God, it's all too much to take in..."

Jungkook looks to you, wiping the sweat from your forehead with his sleeve. "It's okay... We're here... We're finally here. Everything went wrong, but we're here now. We're here..."

But it didn't matter whether the group 'was here' when no one knew what to do.

"We don't even know if it's safe to roam around about like this..." Seokjin says. He sighs deeply, looking between you and the empty, blood-splattered halls of the hospital.

"Here," Jungkook whispers, trying to lift the mood. He hands Seokjin his frying pan, to which Seokjin politely declines, shaking his head.

"You wield it better as a weapon than I ever could," he says, giving Jungkook a small smile. "Besides, Y/N's counting on you to help her."

You never ever wanted to become a burden like this.

Jungkook nods silently, taking the frying pan back in his hands and gripping it tightly.

"I-I.... haven't exactly been in a hospital in a while," Yoongi says. "And I especially have no idea how to treat a TSS patient..." He looks at you and bites the inside of his cheek in deep contemplation. "You know what? We'll take our chances. We'll go into a random room, find refuge—again—and look some stuff up... Maybe we'll... manage to get antibiotics? I don't know."

It's not exactly a solid plan, but it's better than staying collapsed on the floor and waiting for disaster to strike once more.

Yoongi stands up, brushing off his pants and stretching his back. "We'll go in that room." He points.

Jungkook helps you on his back again. He trails behind Yoongi and Seokjin, gripping the frying pan and looking from side to side for any threats. He sees none, thankfully.

"We'll go inside first," Seokjin says.

"Just in case...?" Jungkook says.

"Just in case," Yoongi answers.

"You sure you don't want your frying pan back?" Jungkook asks the talented chef one last time.

Seokjin shakes his head. "You might need it more than I do."

There are a million different arguments Jungkook can make, but he stays silent.

"Ready?" Yoongi whispers to Seokjin.

"R-Ready," he replies. They give each other a small smile before they turn the knob of the door.

Jungkook holds his breath when they step in. For seconds, it's silent, and it's peaceful. Jungkook closes his eyes in sheer happiness. Safety. It feels so attainable now.

Yoongi and Seokjin look around the room, small smiles spreading across their faces. Yoongi turns around. "Hey, I think it's saf—"

A zombie leaps out and gashes his neck before he can finish.

Jungkook screams silently, mouth wide open in horror.

The monsters had been hiding. Two more of them leap out, attacking Yoongi and Seokjin with decaying teeth and mangled limbs.

Jungkook begins to step away, still aware that the door was wide open. But he can't move any closer to shut it. Not with you on his back. It's too risky. Tears prickle his eyes.

Yoongi's the first one down. He stops moving and becomes a lump on the floor. Seokjin turns to face Jungkook, eyes wet and face bleeding. Before he falls dead to the ground, he manages to close the open door. Red blood splatters subsequently on the window. Like it was straight out of a horror film. The zombies in the room don't suspect another two beings outside in the hospital halls and they immediately quiet down.

The world spins for Jungkook.

Oh my god.

He can't stop repeating it in his head.

Oh my god. No other words. He couldn't express the pure trepidation and guilt in words anyway.

He doesn't even know if you're still conscious. He almost breaks down right then and there. The tears have blurred his vision significantly, and he can't even hear anything except the incessant ringing in his ears.

I'm... I'm the only one left.

The thought sends chills down Jungkook's spine.

But he's reminded of what he's here to do when you begin to stir lightly on his back.

God. You're still alive. And as long as he's alive, you're going to live. Jungkook squeezes your leg in reassurance (more to reassure himself than you, really) and grits his teeth. He's going to do this. He's going to get you to safety. He's going to stay strong.

He looks at the frying pan in his hands. Seokjin's frying pan.

He fights back the tears. He can't think of the others now. He needs to focus. He's going to do this.

He runs.

Silently.

Quickly.

His heels never touch the ground. Light on his feet, blending into the wind, Jungkook runs. He doesn't exactly know where—he wishes things will work out in the end. And he wishes you were conscious enough to form a plan. He always admired how you could craft one in a crisis. But now you're basically gone, unable to communicate with him. He's on his own.

Jungkook comes across a large cabinet with a lock on it. Possibly a medicine cabinet. Why else would it be locked?

Keeping you on his back, Jungkook fumbles with the lock, trying to figure out how to get it open. He comes up with an idea in two seconds. Maybe panic does help the gears in his brain. He slams the frying pan against the lock so hard that the shatter of it echoes throughout the hospital.

Fuck.

Of course that would've been loud. But no matter now. The lock had broken. Now he has to take whatever looks helpful and run.

He flings the cabinet doors open, hoisting you up on his back again because you'd started to slip off. He grips the frying pan with one hand and begins to shove pills bottles into his pockets. He would've gotten away with more when he hears a sickening groan.

Jungkook whirls around, immediately shielding you away from the danger. You whimper just a little bit. He wants to comfort you; he wants to hug you. But he can't.

It's a zombie.

Its eyes are empty, but Jungkook can tell it only wants one thing: death. It bids death on Jungkook and you. But Jungkook won't allow it.

The monster's sickeningly close to him, and it's trying to back Jungkook into the corner that the medicine cabinet is in. He'll be stuck if the monster takes another step closer. He reacts immediately, flinging the frying pan in the zombie's face. It lets out a deafening shriek—one that sends chills all over Jungkook's body. But he can't freeze. Not now.

With agile speed and what's left of his grace, Jungkook leaps over the zombie writhing on the floor. He feels sharp pain somewhere—he can't discern where. But it doesn't matter. He's too fixated on getting you to safety. Without anymore thinking, he runs.

He runs and runs and runs. Away from the zombie, away from the problems, away from all the deaths of his friends today. He runs away with you.

When he thinks he can't go any further, he slams himself into a room, hoping, wishing that there was nothing inside. His misfortune had run out. The room is empty, safe.

Nearly crying tears of joy, Jungkook lets you down carefully on the hospital bed and dumps the pill bottles out of his pocket and sets them next to you. Then just for a few seconds, he cries.

He cries out of relief, out of genuine sadness, out of fear, out of an overwhelming sense of gladness. He cries even harder when you slowly but surely move your warm hand to encompass his.

That's when he notices the blood.

That's when he notices he'd been bitten. It had bitten him. That had been the searing pain that he had felt earlier. Jungkook backs away from you, disgusted and horrified with himself.

The thoughts follow in chronological order.

He'll drop dead soon—he doesn't know when, but he does know he can't in front of you.

When he wakes, he'll be undead.

Then... then... he'll try to attack you—if... if you're still alive by then.

He can't allow it.

Jungkook knows he has to leave.

But... He looks at you. You're dipping in and out of consciousness.

"I have to go, Y/N..." He can't recognize his own voice. It's too shaky, too unsure and laced with too much anxiety to be his own.

You stir, eyes fluttering open. You plead silently for him to stay.

"I-I... I can't, Y/N. I want to but I can't."

"P-Please..." you whisper so quietly that Jungkook barely hears you.

"I'm sorry." Jungkook shakes his head, wiping the last of his tears with his unbitten hand. He hides the other away from view. "I can't stay with you, Y/N," he says more surely. "I have to leave."

Then, you say the most coherent thing you've spoken all day. "St-Stay with m-me... I-I'm... I'll d-die... anyway."

Carefully, Jungkook steps closer to you. So close your foreheads touch. He hugs you. And the action is interlaced with so much love, so much care and consideration that you can't protest when he begins to step away. It's too soon.

You wish you could've been in his arms for longer. You wish you could die in his arms.

But Jungkook knows... He knows that once you're in his arms for too long, he'll never be able to find the strength to let you go. And that'd be a disaster for everybody.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes again.

You don't want him to leave.

But Jungkook doesn't want you to see him turned. He doesn't want to be the one who turns you too. He can't stand being in the same room as you, knowing that he's become a threat. He has to leave.

It makes sense.

Both of you are going to die anyway.

You reach for him, but his back is turned to you. And without another look, Jungkook bites his lip before walking out of the room. He shuts the door behind him and begins to weep against it, sliding down to the floor in a weak, defeated lump.

"J-Jungkook—"

You reach for him again, tumbling out of the bed as a result. The bottles of pills clatter to the floor. You don't care. You drag yourself against the door with the last of your strength. The world spins with you. And you feel so weak...

Jungkook rests his head against the door. His hand begins to throb with excruciating pain. He doesn't want to wake up... He feels too weak to finish the thought.

You cry against the door, tears running down your face. Your hands try to reach the door handle, to open it, to reach Jungkook, but it physically hurts to do so. Everything hurts. The world is on fire.

Jungkook's world is just the same.

An uncomfortable flame is eating him from the inside. He wants the pain to end. He wants everything to end.

And it does.

Finally, finally, his wishes come true. He falls dead, head lolling to the side.

And you're long gone as well.

✽

You gasp awake.

You've awakened in hell.

Well, not exactly.

Your whole body feels as if it's on fire, but you're not in the hospital. You're not dirty nor are you bloody. You're in Yoongi's room, in bed.

But now the covers are on the ground because you'd had a fit in your dreams.

A dream.

A fucking fever dream.

That's what it had been.

Well, a nightmare, really.

A painful foreshadowing, maybe.

A vivid recollection of your worst fear.

Your head spins, and you fight the urge to throw up.

Outside the confines of Yoongi's room, you can hear the other men getting ready to leave. Your heart drops.

No.

You're not going to let them leave with you.

You refuse to become a burden, to become some sort of torch they pass along with great care, sacrificing their lives to keep you safe.

They'll all die because of you.

And you can't allow that.

Maybe if you run away—

Maybe they'll forget about you and no one will get hurt because of you.

You try to move, try to lift yourself on your feet, but it turns out to be a big mistake. You stumble, unable to balance yourself, and you fall off the bed, hitting the ground.

The thump! is loud enough for Jungkook and Namjoon to rush into the room.

"No! No! Go away! No!" you're shrieking, squeezing your eyes shut and gluing yourself to the floor, refusing to move.

They're taken aback.

"Y/N, Y/N..." Jungkook soothes you, dropping to his knees and trying to help you up to the bed again. After struggling for a bit, you let him carry you—when it becomes clear that he's not going to force you out of the room.

"You'll be fine," Jungkook whispers. He strokes your hair, holding your hands with tears brimming in his eyes. It reminds you too much of your dream. You want to look away, but you can't. "Y-You'll... Y/N, you'll be fine."

Jungkook and Namjoon exchange knowing, painful looks. Even in your barely conscious state, you suddenly understand.

You realize then that you'll die here. And the others have accepted it.

It hurts to think that they're giving up on you. But at the same time, you'd rather they give up than risk their lives to save you.

Jungkook continues to hold you in his arms, rocking you back and forth. "I'm sorry," he keeps repeating. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

When Namjoon opens the door to the room, the others spill in. They tell you their parting words. But you can barely comprehend them. Relief floods through you, however. It makes you feel better that they're okay—that they're alive.

And soon, it's just you and Jungkook. Alone in the room. Just like your dream.

He won't stop apologizing. You manage to shake your head, attempting to give him a smile. It comes out forced. "No... I-It wasn't... It wasn't y-your f-fau...lt." You pause to take deep breaths. "Y-You..." you reach out to take Jungkook's other hand. It relieves you to see no blood. "You d-did... good."

The tears dribble down to the tip of his chin, and they fall down when he manages to smile back at you. "Y-You m-mean... You mean I did well."

You're half-crying, half-laughing, just like he is. Everything becomes less painful like this. It's better to go this way than to be separated by a door. It's better than what you had imagined.

"You did well, Y/N. You did so well," Jungkook repeats over and over again. He holds you in his arms tighter than ever.

You've always wanted to die in his arms.

You lose consciousness feeling safe and happy.

"You're never going to beat me," Jungkook snorts, swinging his baseball bat over his head.

You laugh, shoving the boy aside. "Watch me, then."

"Gladly."

It's baseball day. You and your seven other friends have gathered outside in the warm sunlight, ready to play ball as you and Jungkook had always hoped. Although it's a significantly modified (cough, simplified) version of baseball, it doesn't matter to you. There are no monsters, no blood, no death—just happiness.

Seokjin's polishing his frying pan off to the side, Jimin's wiping the dust off of his officer badge, Namjoon's studying from his binder, Taehyung's video-chatting with his dogs (don't ask), Hoseok's stirring up his best business plans and Yoongi's dozed off while standing.

It's perfect. A perfect world.

"I'll pitch," Jungkook tells you, tipping his baseball cap at you before giving you a handsome grin. "Careful, though. I'm not going easy on you."

You grin right back. "You don't have to. But if you want to keep your ego intact, I'll go easy on you."

"No need to," Jungkook laughs. "Just don't come crying to me when I beat your ass."

You snort. "I don't know, Jungkook, sounds a bit like you're dragging this on so you won't have to cry over an embarrassing loss."

"Oh, really? Okay, then. I'm going to pitch right now."

"Do it, then."

"I'm going to!"

He does, hurling the ball with all of his might but also with calculated precision.

The world around you blurs. All you can see is the ball hurtling towards you. And though you're not very imaginative, you envision the ball to be that sexist baseball coach you had years back; you envision the ball to be an ugly, aggressive zombie; you envision the ball to be death, unhappiness and regret.

You scream like a warrior going into battle when you hit the ball. The angle is just right, the strength is perfectly calculated. The ball flies up in the air—no doubt, a home run. You don't even have to run the bases to see that.

Jungkook's grinning—almost as if he expected you to make such a spectacular hit. He looks at you with adoration, with pride, with love. "That's my girl."

"I know! I'm amazing!" You grin too.

The world has never felt this perfect.

—part 1 | part 2

—masterlist

#ficswithluv #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts #ignis fatuus #the shorter and more depressing sister of part 1 #i hope yall don't come at me for this

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years ago

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The Second First Christmas

A/N Despite the fact that I’m posting it after Boxing Day, this little fic is about Metric Jamie and Claire celebrating their first Christmas as a couple. It is unadulterated fluff, and in keeping with the season of giving, I’m going to give this an Explicit rating. You’re welcome.

With special thanks to @lady-o-ren, for Jamie’s gift idea!

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

December 24, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

Claire could hear her phone vibrating loudly on the metal shelf inside her duty locker. Overcoming fatigue so severe it blurred her vision, she entered her combination and yanked open the door, thumbing the screen just before the call went to voicemail.

How did he do it? Jamie had an uncanny, and frankly slightly unsettling, ability to guess her whereabouts, even remotely. The past week he had found her in the massive Spitalfields Market merely on the hunch that she would be craving sushi after her Pilates class. At one point she’d found his prescience disturbing, but now it soothed her. Someone cared for her enough, knew her well enough, to plot the passage of her days on the virtual map of his mind. And that someone was on the line.

“You’ve reached the voicemail for Claire Beauchamp’s circadian rhythm. Press One if you’re a cortisol suppressant, Two if you’re an espresso machine, or Three if you’re Claire’s boyfriend, last seen in the flesh prior to the winter solstice.”

Jamie’s low rumbling chuckle filled her ear.

“Ye’re verra funny for a lass goin’ on twenty-four hours wi’out sleep, Sassenach. How was yer shift?”

Having worked most holidays in the A&E since graduating nursing school, Claire knew they went one of two ways: either complete bedlam, or utter boredom. This one had been the latter, for which she was thankful.

“Surprisingly calm, but that means no lovely adrenaline to keep me awake. I may sleepwalk into the Thames on my way home. Are you at the station already?”

“Aye, jus’ starting my shift. Can ye be at the main entrance of the hospital in five minutes? I’ll call ye an Uber.”

“Jamie, that’s really not necessary. I’m quite capable of walking...”

“Claire...” he interrupted, and needn’t say anything more. They’d had numerous conversations and minor confrontations since becoming a couple over what Jamie termed her “wee addiction to self-sufficiency”. She was trying to learn to accept help when it was offered, but it was an iterative process.

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that. Will I see you tomorrow morning before I go back on duty?”

Both Jamie and Claire were working extra hours over the holidays to offset the cost of refurnishing their flat. Every minute spent together was therefore doubly precious.

“Aye, I’ll wake ye when I get in an’ we can celebrate our second first Christmas t’gether by tryin’ tae keep the other awake long enough tae open our presents.”

She smiled, but it morphed into a yawn.

“Get some rest, Sassenach. And Claire,” he added in a serious tone, “t’would be a fine gift tae find ye in my bed, preferably naked, when I come home on Christmas morn.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she husked, suddenly much more awake.

***

There was a puff of cool air and then the Earth moved. Straining to hold onto slumber, Claire rolled away from the disturbance, gripping the blanket beneath her chin. A low chuckle preceded a solid warmth radiating along the entire length of her spine. Something bristly abraded her shoulder and she flinched away.

“Has anyone told ye ye look like a wee hedgehog when ye sleep, Sassenach?”

“I’m fairly confident they haven’t,” she retorted, rolling onto her back and stretching before opening her eyes. The room was mostly dark, but Jamie’s auburn curls glowed in the dim lamplight escaping their living room. His bare shoulders were humid and pink from the shower. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Gone four. We have a few hours afore ye have tae be back at the A&E, aye?”

“Mmmm,” she hummed affirmatively, caught up in tracing the ligatures of Jamie’s upper arm.

“Good. That should leave us jus’ enough time.”

“Just how many presents are we exchanging?” Claire laughed, mesmerized by the eager passage of Jamie’s eyes over her face. The hand that wasn’t bracing his head aloft began a lazy exploration beneath the blankets, touching her naked skin so softly that it almost tickled.

“Only two. An’ the first one’s already unwrapped.”

“How fortuitous,” she teased before leaning upwards to capture his waggish lips in a warm introductory kiss. “Merry Christmas,” she murmured as they parted some time later.

“An’ tae ye as well, Sassenach. Ye canna imagine how many times I thought of ye t’night, yer beautiful skin warm against my sheets.” Jamie’s free hand was on the move again, firmer now along the contours of her body as it came alive to his touch.

“Slow night, then?” she gasped as his knuckle found her nipple, slackened with sleep.

“Painfully so.”

There was no further conversation for a time, mouths being employed far more enjoyably. Four months of intimacy had bridged the span from friends to lovers, replacing hesitation with ardour. They were still learning each other’s tells; when to lead and when to follow, how to ask and how to demand. It was a giddy education for them both.

Tonight, Jamie’s fatigue and drawn-out anticipation left him shaking with want, a sensation akin to sharing a bed with an earthquake. His broad torso was outlined in the light from the door as he knelt between her thighs, lust pinwheeling like sparklers in his eyes. Fortunately, condoms were no longer a necessity after they both produced clean blood tests and Claire had an IUD implanted. So when he slid into her body, there was nothing but the needy clasp of flesh on flesh. Her sigh of pleasure mingled with Jamie’s groan of relief as they began their dance.

“Yer breasts, mo nighean donn,” Jamie growled past the iron clench of his jaw. She dragged her pupils down from the back of her eyelids to observe the twin objects in question, undulating in time to their meeting and parting.

“Touch them for me,” Jamie commanded.

Aware that her every movement was being minutely observed, she made a show of arching her ribs and running her hands first beside, then below, and finally between her breasts.

“Seadh, mo ghaol.” The words snuck unbidden between Jamie’s strained lips. She didn’t have the Gaihldig, but his meaning was clear. Go on. So go on she did, dragging fingernails over the creased flesh of each areola before giving both nipples a sudden pinch. Whatever tectonic fluctuations her actions caused, Jamie felt them, for he let out an ecstatic whimper. A worried furrow now marred his brow. Her fluent eyes read the desperation written on his face. He didn’t have long, and he needed her to go before him.

Her right hand drifted down to where they were joined. His cock was thoroughly coated in her moisture as it emerged from her body. Wetting her fingertips, she began to trace the intricate geometry of self-pleasure against her flesh. Breathy moans filled the air. Jamie’s teeth were bared in a snarl of panicked concentration. She wasn’t going to overtake him in the wire sprint to the finish, she realized.

“Do it, Jamie.” His crazed glance snapped upward to meet her own certain one. Doubt clouded the seascape of his irises. “God, please,” she begged. They’d spoken of it. A fantasy. A mental titillation not yet brought to life.

Resolution came just in time. Slipping from her heat, he grasped himself and with two hard strokes erupted all over her skin with a hoarse cry, anointing the final acceleration of her fingers as she echoed his climax with a convulsion and a sob.

Minutes later, they lay side by side, still recovering their breath.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Claire warned. “We still need to exchange gifts.”

“Greedy wee thing,” Jamie groaned, already halfway to slumber.

***

A shared shower and two cups of strong coffee later, they sat on their new sofa. Claire’s carefully wrapped gift for Jamie lay on the coffee table before them.

“I can’t help but notice that there’s nothing under our tree for me, Fraser.”

“Och, ye mean ye expect me tae serve ye and give ye a wee present, Sassenach. Ye truly are greedy,” he groused dramatically. Standing, he extended his hand and confused, Claire allowed him to lead her towards her bedroom. For a moment she considered that he might actually be taking her back to bed. As he turned on the light she understood his intention.

As a lifelong wanderer, Claire could count on the fingers of one hand her precious material possessions. Her mother’s emerald earrings. Her father’s pocket watch. A jade fish from the Cat Street night market in Hong Kong, a lucky talisman she carried in her pocket for every test and exam. And a beautiful antique print of Persepolis left to her by her Uncle Lamb. All but this last had survived their apartment fire unscathed, but the water and smoke damage to its parchment had been irreparable. Or so she had believed.

“Jamie,” she gasped upon seeing the lithograph once again mounted in its frame on her wall. “But... how?”

“Well, I willna bore ye with the details, but suffice it tae say that there’s an antiquarian o’er in Bermondsey who can work miracles. There’s still a wee bit o’ smudging near the edges, but I reckon it adds to its character,” he explained.

“A palimpsest,” she said, taking his hand. At his questioning look, she explained, “when one story is written overtop of an older one. This print is a remembrance of my Uncle Lamb and his love for me. And now, when I look at it, I’ll be reminded of your love as well.”

“Aye, just so,” he agreed.

***

Claire was unaccountably nervous as Jamie began to unwrap her gift. She’d felt certain she’d picked just the right thing for him; personal without being sappy, meaningful without being extravagant. But with eyes still misty from the thoughtfulness of his present to her, she was having doubts.

“Tis rather heavy,” Jamie observed as he lifted the rectangular package onto his lap. His eyes were alight with childlike glee, which was a gift unto itself.

“A chess set!” His smile was genuine, but Claire’s heart plummeted. What kind of woman bought her lover a chess set? She began to stammer.

“I... ummm... I thought you could invite your friend John over to play. You mentioned missing the challenge, and ummm....” she broke off, floundering, but Jamie paid her no heed. He was lifting each wooden piece from its velvet resting place, inspecting its shape with a look of utter fascination.

“Where did ye find this, Claire?” he asked at last.

“Oh, uhh, online, actually. It’s from a store in Inverness, but of course I wasn’t able to...”

“It’s Culloden,” Jamie interrupted.

“Errr, yes. I thought, you know, a chessboard is a tactical battlefield. And with you being Scottish and your family’s Jacobite history...”

“Claire, this is the most amazing chess set I’ve e’er seen. Look here. See this wee knight? Tis a Scotch Hussar. An’ the white king is the Duke of Cumberland.” Jamie’s finger traced the words and images carved on the plinth of each piece, going on and on about the clans represented by the tacksmen pawns and his own grandsire, Lord Lovat, symbolized by a tiny strawberry carved on the base of an ebony rook. Claire’s ribs began to loosen their vice-grip on her lungs. Maybe she hadn’t horribly miscalculated after all.

“Sassenach, thank ye. Truly. Tis a grand gift.” The chess set had finally been set aside and they sat facing each other, hands gently caressing as the winter sun slowly warmed the room in tones of blush and grey.

“You’ve very welcome. I’m so relieved that you like it,” she replied with candour.

“I love it. But no’ half sae much as I love ye.”

“I love you too.” It was only after the words had taken flight from her lips that she realized she had never said them aloud before. Not to Jamie, whose sudden stillness indicated that he had heard her. It was too late, then, to pluck her soaring words from the air and cage them once again inside her heart. Too afraid to meet his gaze, she concentrated on smoothing her palms over the backs of his hands in a hypnotic rhythm.

His response, when it came, was whispered into the secret stronghold they had built together.

“There’s naught on Earth tae compare wi’ the gift of yer heart, mo nighean donn. I want ye tae ken that I shall treasure it, an’ ne’er give ye reason tae regret placing it with me for safekeeping.”

Jamie lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them both sweetly. Still looking down, she nodded her acceptance of his pledge, a single tear escaping from the tip of her nose.

It was well past sunrise by the time Claire rose from their bed a second time, kissing her sleeping lover goodbye before creeping out of their flat and into the gemstone light of a perfect Christmas morning.

#my writing #outlander

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wildernessuntothemselves · 5 years ago

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Noona, Do You Have a Boyfriend? | Final Part

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: Convinced that you’re bad for his friend, Minho lashes out at you, leaving you even more hurt and confused than you already were.

Warnings: femdom, sub!jisung, sub!minho, dom!reader, slapping, degradation, bratty!minho, kinda virgin!minho, he never had his ass fucked before lol, threesome, voyeurism, lots of dirty talk as per usual, cumplay, cum and drool all over, minho getting broken, but like it’s all consensual, and the reader is attentive, even though she wants to punch him, minor aftercare, jealous!jisung, deep-throating, pegging, fingering, minho is a mess, this fic is a mess, and I gave up proof-reading it so yes

You miss Jisung.

He’s been avoiding you ever since your movie night, hurt by your rejection. You wanted to respect his decision, you really did, but you feel like shit not being able to see his smile every single day like you used to. It was like your morning cup of coffee; sure, you could survive without it, but then you’d be dull and lifeless the whole day and what’s the point in that? You miss hearing him laugh, his adorable little giggles, so boyish and carefree, they make whatever was troubling you seem trivial. He never smiles at you anymore… and your days have been significantly less bright for it. The only thing that breaks the ominous gloom that has taken over your life are the ripples of lightning that flash in his eyes whenever your eyes accidentally meet, the pain still fresh in his mind.

You’re at your wit’s end by now. Even if it’s selfish, you’ve decided that you’re not gonna take this any longer; you’re gonna go to him. To say or do what? You don’t know. All you know is that you can’t take being without him any longer.

With each step you take towards him, your world gets a little brighter, a sliver of sunlight shining through the dark grey clouds. You feel good about this. You can almost feel the warmth seeping through your skin…but then a terrible storm comes between you, blocking the heavens out of sight.

Minho appears out of nowhere—or maybe he had been there all along, and you just hadn’t noticed, too busy staring at your sunshine boy. He grabs you without a word, and drags you away.

“What are you doing?” You panic, whipping your head around you to see a confused Jisung watching Minho lead you out of the practice room.

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.” He cautions as soon as you’re out of earshot, dark and unforgiving. “I’ve just barely gotten him to stop moping around because of you. I won’t let you destroy all the progress we’ve made so back off and let him move on.”

Oh. So apparently you weren’t that slick about your intentions. Minho must’ve noticed the longing glances you’ve been throwing at Jisung and the way you’ve been hovering around lately, nervous and trying to build up the courage to talk to him, something that Minho seems intent on preventing.

“Shouldn’t he be the one who decides if he wants to move on or not?” You bristle, feeling threatened by the boy who wants to take your sunshine away. You could feel your heart shrivel up at the thought that Jisung could move on from you so quickly. That—if it were up to Minho—another could be basking in the warmth that is him while you’re left behind, the only thing keeping you company is the memory of the sunlight on your skin.

Why does Minho want to hurt you like that? What did you do to him to deserve something so cruel?

“You know he won’t. He’s too sweet for his own good and that’s what you’re counting on, isn’t it?”

“Why are you talking to me like it’s my plan to hurt him? I care about him, believe it or not.”

“I don’t. Not after I’ve watched him bend over backwards to get you to like him when you’ve been nothing but a frigid bitch to him.”

“So you just expect me to reciprocate the attention of anyone who shows interest in me? Don’t I have the right to think about it? Matter of fact, have you ever considered that it’s his eagerness that put me off in the first place? Not everyone has their feelings on eleven, and some of us need some time before we can let someone in.”

“So what, you’re saying you like him now?” He sneers flippantly, mocking you.

“Maybe I do.” You mutter, fidgeting under his accusatory gaze.

“Maybe is not good enough. You said it yourself, Jisung feels too much. When he loves someone, he gives them his all, and he needs someone who can give their all to him as well, and let’s not kid ourselves, that person isn’t you. If you really cared about him then you’ll stay away from him. He can get over you if you back off now, but if you let him get too involved then decide you can’t handle him after all, it would crush him.”

“What if he hurts me? Why do you assume that I’d be the bad guy here?”

“Frankly, I don’t care if he hurts you. He’s my friend. He’s the one I care about.”

“Wow, thanks—”

“I’m serious.” He cuts you off, not caring to hear what you have to say. “Don’t fuck with my members. They’re my family. You don’t deserve him so just step aside and let him find someone who can love him like he needs.”

“I get it. You don’t like me. You don’t have to be such an asshole about it.” You retort, trying to act like his flippantly cruel comment hadn’t cut you up inside, but the mirthless chuckle doesn’t make it past your constricting throat and your eyes fill up with tears that you refuse to shed in his presence.

“I’m gonna… yeah.” You spin on your heel just before the first droplets break off, and scurry away.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Waking up with a groan, you blindly throw your arm out from under the blanket and feel for the source of the noise that had ripped you away from your slumber at this undoubtedly ungodly hour. When your hand encounters the loathsome object, you bring it to your ear and answer it without even checking to see who was calling—and not caring to in your enthusiasm to curse them off for waking you up.

“I swear to god if this is not about someone dying—”

“Noona…” You almost miss the small voice over your own anger, stopping you in your tracks. You shoot up, all sleep suddenly leaving your eyes as you clutch the phone in both hands as if you can physically keep the other person on the line that way.

“Han?!”

“Did I wake you up, noona?” He asks dumbly, but your anger was suddenly nowhere to be found.

“No, nooo, I was already up…getting some water.” You wince at your stupid lie. It was obvious he’d woken you up. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s three in the morning and your voice sounds like that of an eighty year-old man suffering from chronic lung disease, but you’re not about to tell him that. Shaking your head, you try to brush off the stupid. “Anyway, what’s up?”

What’s up? Apparently the stupid was more deeply ingrained than you thought.

“Oh, I… umm, I’m in the studio and I’ve been working on this song that… is just kicking my ass, you know? And…um,” He trails off into an awkward silence, the likes of which you haven’t experienced since middle school.

Was he waiting for you to finish his thought? You hope not because you had no idea where he was going with this. Was he looking for a pep talk or something? Oh god, what were you supposed to tell him? You weren’t prepared for this.

A frustrated sigh cuts off your panicked musings.

“I’ve told you before how you’ve been like a…a muse to me—oh god, that sounds so dumb and cheesy but it’s true, and without you around it’s just—”

Another deep sigh and a long pause. You can practically feel him telepathically willing you to understand what he needs but you were slow from sleep and your ability to figure out what he wanted without using words had gone rusty from disuse.

Still, the silence was suffocating so you decide to take a shot in the dark. “Do… do you want phone sex?”

“No! What? No!” He squeaks in that adorable panicked voice of his and despite the weird situation, it puts a smile on your face.

“Can you just come to the studio?” He ventures wearily, “Not to hook up or anything! I think I just… need you near me.”

You gasp at his confession. You’ve only dared to wish for something like this in your dreams, the time and distance that grew larger between you with each passing day having all but left you hopeless that he’d want you back.

Misinterpreting your reaction, he hurries to apologize, “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask and you probably don’t want to see me—”

“It’s not!” You cut him off, scared he’d hang up before you even had a chance to speak for yourself. “I want to see you, Han. I’ll be there soon.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

The big studio feels suffocatingly small with just the two of you inside, all the baggage you two have been carrying over the months taking up too much space for you to comfortably breathe. You needed to cast them away but you’re not sure how.

“So…what are you working on?” You valiantly, and awkwardly, break the loaded silence, startling Jisung as if he hadn’t expected to hear you speak.

Clearing his throat, he turns towards the control board and fumbles with the buttons. “Let me show you.”

He gives you no further instruction so you just stand there awkwardly for a few seconds before going ahead and grabbing one of the extra chairs and pulling it up to sit beside him.

“This is the song I told you about.”

As the song starts playing, he stares ahead, chewing on his bottom lip and not checking to see your reaction. When his voice comes on, he blushes a little. “This is just the demo. The finished version will have a much better vocalist like Woojin-hyung or Seungminnie to sing it.”

“I like your voice, Han.” You answer without thinking, but it’s true. Jisung may not be the main vocalist but you like the tone of his voice regardless. “I think it’s, um, sweet.

“You don’t have to flatter me, noona.”

“I’m not.” Your firm tone makes his eyes automatically look over to you. “I like it, ok?”

“Ok.” He bites his lips and looks straight ahead once again.

When the song finishes, he asks for your opinion.

“I like it…” You start, hesitating.

“But?”

“But I feel like it’s missing something.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He exclaims, pressing his fingers against his temples in frustration. “But I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, stressed that he’s looking at you like he expects you to have an answer. “You’re the producer.”

“I know. I’m just frustrated and tired.” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “I’ve been working on it for so long but it’s still not right.”

“Why don’t you take a little break? Maybe it’s not working out because you’re forcing it.” You suggest.

“A break? Like do nothing?” He cocks his head at you, a little confused frown on his face as he considers your words, seeming as if the thought had never crossed his mind before.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, ok.” He blinks and leans back in his chair, his frown intensifying as if he’s hearing about the concept of relaxation for the first time in his life.

As cute as he looks right now—and he looks gosh darn cute with that kissable pout on his lips and the way he had tugged his legs against his chest, looking so tiny—you realize that you need to distract him before his mind goes haywire from overthinking.

“Or you could show me some of your other work?”

His eyes snap up to you, wide and excited at the proposition. “You wanna hear more of my stuff?”

You smile gently at him, assuring him that, “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

The awkwardness dissipates soon after that, as he—at first self-consciously, and then proudly—shows off his work to you, swelling up with each word of praise you profess to him, and you, in turn, swell up with a special kind of pride you’ve never felt for anyone before, a feeling that made you want to proclaim to the world that ‘Yeah, that’s my baby, right there. Isn’t he wonderful?’

You’ve always known that Jisung was gifted, but to get to see him in his element like this, his talent in its rawest form, was an experience you never knew you needed. He was so passionate and genuine about his work, it honestly made you a little teary-eyed.

“Wow, you’re really good at this stuff.” You conclude stupidly, having spent a couple of hours in the studio by now, just listening to some of his tracks and discussing where he wanted to take his music and what he wants to tell through it. You felt woefully under-prepared to even be a passive party in such a technical discussion, but Jisung insisted that talking to you helped him sort out his thoughts and come up with a bunch of ideas on how he might fix that track that has been causing him trouble.

“Thank you, noona.” The sweet boy blushes despite your less than graceful compliment. “I actually thought that maybe I could become a producer if this whole idol thing hadn’t worked out.”

“You’d be an amazing producer! Actually, whatever you would’ve chosen to do, I know you would’ve been amazing at it.” You gush with conviction. Maybe you were biased but you just know that your sunshine boy was talented enough to succeed at whatever his beautiful heart desired.

And through your stormy world, the sun shyly peeks behind the clouds as he smiles at you. Not just any smile, your smile, the one you’ve been aching for all this time, and you can’t help but stare, enraptured by it like a second sun had appeared in the sky.

But before you could soak up the light, it gets eclipsed by the gloom once again.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Jisung whispers, hunched over with his arms resting on his thighs, his gaze set on his twiddling fingers, avoiding your own.

“What?” You blink, the remnants of the light scattering from your eyes.

“I thought that maybe you’d miss me like I was missing you… but I guess you were right about me being dumb.”

“You’re not dumb!” You shoot out of your seat and stand over him, cupping his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. “I did! I missed you so much!”

“But you never tried to contact me.” He breathes you in, and for a second, he gets lost in all that you are—your smell, the light in your eyes, the warmth of your hands, all the things that he had missed so dearly. He’s so busy soaking it all up that it startles him when your hands fall from his face to swing limply at your sides, breaking the spell.

“I did try but…”

“But what?”

Tears spring to your eyes as you recall what Minho had said. You don’t deserve him. His words rang in your ears like thunder, feeling truer now than they ever did after what you’ve witnessed today.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, embarrassed to admit the truth. You’ve never been this unsure of yourself. Not because of Minho—he could go fuck himself as far as you were concerned. But this was the first time you’ve been so completely enamored with someone like this. People tend to inflate their lover’s worth and you were no exception; to you, Jisung deserves the best, and you feared that you weren’t that.

Reclaiming your hands, he tugs on them gently, pulling you onto his lap. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Despite the firm grip he has on your hands, his soft glittery eyes give him away. He was begging you to say something that would assuage his pain, to prove to him that you wanted this as much as he did and that the delay had been out of your hands.

You could do that. You could give him that much.

“Minho told me to stay away.” You confess, heart heavy and fearful that the words would be like a wake-up call to him, and he would realize that he deserved better after all. “He said that you deserve someone who could love you as much as you love them and that I’m not that person.”

At the uncharacteristically livid look on Jisung’s face, your anxious mind bungee jumps to conclusions, figuring that he must think that you’re lying to set his best friend up. You don’t even realize that you’ve started crying until you feel Jisung’s fumbling fingers wiping at your cheeks, trying to keep the tears at bay,

“Oh my god, don’t cry. Please don’t cry, noona. I’m going to kill him for doing this to you. I swear I will.” It would be a hard feat to take any death threat from Jisung seriously, but it’s even harder to when panic dilutes any edge his anger may have had. “Wait… is that why he pulled you out of the practice room that one time?”

You nod, pouting childishly as you remember the incident.

“That fucker! He told me that you were just trying to hook up with me and that’s why he stopped you!” He fumes, but yet again, his anger is quickly cut off by doubt and insecurity, “…you didn’t only want to hook up, right?” He asks, unsure.

“No!” You yell, frustrated beyond belief by how unnecessary all this heartache was, all because of his bitch of a friend. “Would I be here in the middle of the night, listening to your dumb songs for hours if I didn’t have feelings for you?”

“Hey! My songs aren— wait, you have feelings for me?”

“Do you think I sing A Whole New World with just any random dude?”

He bites his lip and tries to suppress his smile, but that only emphasizes his squirrel teeth, making you curse as you feel your heart leaping in your chest. Fuck, so cute.

You realize that you’ve said that out loud when he blushes and smacks your shoulder playfully, his teeth untangling from his lip to let his smile grow wide and unrestrained. “I want to hear you say it.”

You roll your eyes, “I like you, you dumbass.”

You had hardly finished saying it before you’re pulled into an enthusiastic kiss. “Then forget about what my dumb hyung said.”

“But what if he’s right? What if I can’t love you enough?” You fret, still unsure.

“Impossible. With just one call, you come running here, leaving your cozy bed behind to listen to my dumb songs without even the slightest prospect of getting dicked down? You’re whipped, noona.”

You smack him playfully, and yet you still can’t quite let it go. “What if I hurt you?”

“Isn’t that how all relationships go? Either you stay together or you break up.”

“You’re being super wise right now, it’s disturbing.” You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and smothering him with chaste little kisses.

Impatient, he grabs your face and captures your lips in a real kiss. “You’d be surprised what my brain is capable of when not all my blood is flowing to my boner.”

You throw your head back laughing, finally starting to feel like things are going to be okay for the first time in a long time. “I love you my dumb, wise baby…”

“Oh, and Minho will pay for this.”

Jisung buries his face in your neck, chuckling lightly. “I’m already on it, babe.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Checking your phone, you take note of the time; Ten thirty. That means you had kept them waiting for almost 20 minutes now.

This was all part of Jisung’s plan to make his hyung “atone” for trying to sabotage your relationship—bringing him into your bedroom so you can fuck him up like he almost fucked you guys up, and if that happened to also satisfy his long-held fantasy of getting to see you fuck another guy in front of him... Well that was just the cherry on top for him, or so he claimed.

You knew just how thirsty he was for this, the weeks leading up to tonight filled with a whiny, impatient Jisung pestering you about why he can’t just bring Minho over already and accusing you of prolonging his wait just to torture him. And maybe you did, but it’s nothing he can prove.

Deciding to finally have mercy on him, you give yourself one last look in the mirror to make sure nothing was out of place and that the red robe you wore covered your bare body properly before you head out of the bathroom door and step out into your bedroom.

Immediately, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the scene in front of you.

Minho had your boyfriend pinned under him on the bed, both their clothes in a pile on the floor and their dick rubbing against each other as Minho grinded down on him.

Small moans escaped Jisung as he struggled against the hold Minho had on his arms, pinning them against the bed as he devoured the younger boy’s neck. You haven’t even started yet and they were already misbehaving. You had told them clearly to not touch each other while you were getting ready but apparently you should’ve never trusted these two.

Whatever, you’ll teach them to not disobey you again.

Taking your phone out of the robe’s pocket, you open the app that controls the plug you had put inside Jisung’s ass earlier and turn it on, causing the boy to suddenly yelp out and whip his head towards the bathroom door where you stand, freaking out when his eyes land on your unimpressed face.

“I tried to stop him, noona.” He attempts to justify his actions but you shush him, walking further into the room. “Sure, you did, brat. You know, I’m doing this whole thing to satisfy your sick fantasy, right? And yet you can’t even follow one simple instruction, can you?”

You turn the speed up a notch, making Jisung jolt a little in Minho’s grasp. “Ah, fuck, noona! I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You turn it up even higher.

Curious as to what’s happening, Minho pushes off the boy, cocking his head to the side as he takes a second to realize what has suddenly gotten the younger boy so riled up. His suspicions are confirmed when he pulls Jisung’s thighs apart to see the diamond-shaped bottom of the plug glimmering between his cheeks. Pressing on it, he pushes the part that had slipped out because of Jisung’s squirming back in, making the boy gasp and his fingers clutch at the sheet desperately.

“Hmm, cute. So this is what Jisungie has to make do with. How sad.” He sneers, fucking the toy in and out of him a few time before taking it out and throwing it to the ground at your feet. “It must kill you, that you don’t have a real cock to fuck him with, right?”

“But I do have one.” You retort easily, not missing a beat, and he frowns at you in confusion, flinching just a bit when you reach a hand out towards him. But he doesn’t stop you as your hand wraps around his hard dick and gives it a sharp stroke that has him involuntarily thrusting forward in your fist.

“It’s right here. As long as you’re in my bed, every part of you belongs to me.” You drawl, continuing to languidly stroke him. “Even your pretty little dick.”

Taking your hand off his again, you don’t miss the quiet hiss he lets out at the loss of stimulation. “Now fuck him well and don’t you dare disappoint me.” You deadpan, sitting down on the bed in front of them and looking at them expectantly.

Turning to Jisung with misplaced anger, he manhandles the poor boy, flipping him onto his stomach then grabbing him by the hips to push his ass in the air, allowing him to easily line up his dick with your boyfriend’s stretched out hole. He looks you right in the eyes as he orders him, “Beg for it, baby boy. Beg me to ram my cock inside you and fuck you like she can’t.”

Jisung hesitates and you can see the conflict on his face as he contemplates whether to obey Minho and piss you off or not obey him and piss him off. Impatient, Minho lands a harsh smack against the younger’s ass. “Beg or I’m not fucking you.”

Whimpering and already much too excited and desperate, that is enough to make up Jisung’s mind. “Please, fuck me, hyung. I’ve missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah? Why, baby? Does she not fuck you?” Minho goads, pushing just the tip of his dick inside the boy.

“She does, but it’s not the same. Your cock feels so much better, hyung.” Jisung throws his head back, moaning theatrically as Minho bottoms out inside him.

“Good boy.” Minho smirks at you as he puts his hands on Jisung’s slim waist and starts moving him over his length, fucking him slowly.

You roll your eyes at the two boys acting out, thinking they’re actually doing something there. You watch as Minho makes Jisung fuck himself on his dick instead of thrusting into him, moving the younger boy ever so slowly over his cock as he stares you down with an arrogant smile, knowing that you want to see him ruin Jisung, but choosing to tease you instead.

But two can play at this game.

Loosening up the knot that held your robe closed, you slowly pull the fabric apart over your chest until it slides off your shoulders, exposing your breasts and hard nipples to their hungry eyes. You play with them, taking your time as you massage your breasts and lightly run your fingers over your nipples, only allowing the softest moans to slip from your lips, each one riling the boys up more. You smile as Minho unconsciously starts fucking the boy under him while Jisung lets out whimpering little moans, needing you both to stop teasing him.

“Noona, please spread your legs.” Jisung whines, eyes focused on the way your legs were rubbing together because of your own hands on your chest.

“You want me to expose myself to your hyung, baby? Don’t you have any shame? Wanting him to see what any other man would fight to keep to themselves?”

Jisung whines again and reaches out to push your legs apart himself. You act as if he took you by surprise, letting them get a glimpse of your pussy before you snap your legs shut and slap your boyfriend across the face. “You little pervert!”

He draws back and whimpers, pushing his ass against his hyung’s crotch and moaning out wantonly as the movement suddenly pushes Minho’s entire length inside his ass, the tip of it hitting his prostate.

“You want to see my pussy that bad?”

He nods, watching your hand snake between your legs to cover your crotch before you spread them open, your hand inconveniently covering your heat. “You want to show your hyung what you’ve been getting all this time?”

You grind the heel of your hand against yourself, the stimulation crude but arousing nonetheless, and you let out soft little moans.

“Yes, noona, please! I want to show him your pretty pussy.”

You giggle at your boyfriend’s pleas and start pulling your fingers off one by one, until the only thing standing between their hungry eyes and your glistening pussy is your middle finger that was still placed over your slit.

“But I don’t know if I he deserves to see.” You pout sadly, continuing to tease them, rubbing your finger up and down your slit, which proves to be too much for Minho who finally snaps. “For fuck’s sake, just show us your pussy!”

“Ah, hyung—” Jisung attempts to warn him but it’s too late, you clamp your legs shut and tie your robe back up. “I see where Jisung gets his brattiness from. That’s too bad. I was going to let you eat me out.”

Tauntingly, you brandish your soaked fingers in their faces, making a show of rubbing them together then pulling them apart so they’d see the thick strings of arousal that stretch between them.

Jisung cries out, pleading you for a taste, and you even see Minho lick his lips in anticipation. So you reach your hand towards him as if you’re going to let him have a taste, but just as he opens his mouth to take your fingers in, you drop your hand and wipe your fingers on the sheets.

“Bitch.”

“Oh honey,” You lean up close to his face, your words dripping condescension. “You’re the only little bitch here, and I’ll prove it to you soon enough.”

You can see that the threat gets to him as he stops fucking Jisung to warily watch as you get off the bed to retrieve the box you had prepared beforehand.

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep fucking him.”

But he can’t and his eyes remain on you as you get the box and settle back down on the bed, this time behind him. Craning his head back, he sees you taking out a bottle of lube and slathering some of it on your middle finger.

“What are you going to do?” He turns back towards you with panic in his eyes.

“What do you think? I’m going to finger you open so I can fuck your pretty ass.”

“What? You’re g-gonna fuck me? But I thought…”

“You thought what, that you’d be the one fucking me?” You sneer, making him flush with embarrassment and stare back ahead to avoid your sharp gaze, but you grab him by the jaw and force him to face you again. “You think I’d let your pathetic little cock anywhere near my pussy?”

Taking one of his hands in yours, you guide it between your legs, and he gasps out as he feels your wetness. “Did you really think you deserve to fuck this pussy?” You condescend, pushing his fingers inside you and letting him feel your tight heat around him.

“N-no.” He whimpers, fingers twitching as he tries to hold himself back from moving them.

“No.” You confirm, ripping his hand away from you.

As you push him down on top of Jisung and line your finger with his entrance--ignoring the way your boyfriend glares back at you for squishing him under the older boy--Minho squeaks out, “Wait!”

“What now, brat?”

“I’ve… I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“What?” For the first time, you panic, and practically jump back.

“I’ve fingered myself before!” He quickly adds in when he sees the worry in your eyes, “I just have never been…uh… you know.”

“Fucked?”

“Yeah.” He stares dead ahead once again, too embarrassed to look at you.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it then that’s fine. You and Jisung could just keep fucking and we’ll end it at that.” You say, trying to convey to him that he completely had a choice in this and you would never do something he was uncomfortable with. Yes, this was his “punishment” and you weren’t exactly happy with what he had tried to do to you and Jisung, but you would never force anything on him.

“No, I want to try.” He mumbles quietly.

“What?” You prod, having heard what he said but needing him to say it loud and clear, not just to confirm that he was okay with this but because it was so sexy watching the hyper-bratty boy acting so shy. “If you don’t speak up and say what you want clearly, I won’t give it to you.”

His head snaps back towards you, scared you’d follow through on your threat, and he was way too horny to stop now. “I want it.”

Smirking, you press your lubed up finger to his hole, not pushing it in yet but just rubbing against it. “What do you want?”

“You know what.” He grunts, hips tensing with the effort to not push back against your finger.

“Jisung baby, is this how a good boy asks for something?”

“No. Good boys beg for treats.” Jisung’s voice was strained with need as he wiggles his hips, his dripping dick pressed against his abdomen and the sheets as Minho’s weight lies on top of him, but doesn’t try to rush the both of you, understanding that this is a sensitive moment.

“You heard him, kitten. Beg.”

You can tell from the way his jaw clenches that he wouldn’t give in even before the insolent words come out of his mouth. “Fuck you.”

You smile menacingly, “Gladly.”

You push your finger inside of him, not too suddenly so as not to hurt him but quick enough to make him ache. “Just wait until I’m done with you. I’ll fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Minho grunts in disapproval at your words but he doesn’t protest as your finger starts exploring his tight ass, rubbing inside him in tight little circles, searching for the spot that would have him keening.

“I’m surprised you’ve never been fucked before. With the way you act, I would’ve guessed that someone would’ve already gotten sick of your shit and fucked you straight. God knows it’s all I could think about whenever I hear you run your bratty little mouth.”

“Don’t think too highly of yourself. This doesn’t even feel go–oh!” He tried to shoot you down but he embarrassingly fails when he feels your finger brush against his prostate, quickly silencing his retort.

“Shhh… that’s a good boy.” You jeer, pressing a firm hand to the small of his back to keep him in place as you start pumping your fingers, not wanting him to get ahead of himself. You can practically feel his body humming underneath you.

It doesn’t take him long to ask for more. “Fuck, go faster.”

“What’s the magic words, princess?” You mock.

“I ha-ate you.” He stutters, making you laugh. “I hate you too, darling, but those are not quite the words I’m looking for.”

When your finger is easily thrusting in and out of him, you pull it out to squirt more lube onto it, covering your index finger along with it too then pushing them both inside of him, smirking at the way he braces himself against the stretch and knowing that he’ll be feeling good again in no time.

And sure enough, he’s soon mewling and squirming in your grasp as he unconsciously fucks the boy underneath him, his hips thrusting down with each push of your fingers against his prostate. Jisung was whimpering under him, enjoying the erratic way Minho was drilling into him was making his own dick grind against the sheets.

“That good, huh?” You drawl at the two boys.

“So good.” Jisung whimpers, but Minho still can’t get himself to give in.

“Shut up—AH!” He throws his head back, moaning out.

“I think he’s gonna cum soon, noona.” Jisung warns you, “I can feel him twitching inside me.”

“Oh no, he won’t.” You declare, pulling him up so his dick slips out of Jisung, both of them crying out in frustration, but Minho’s whining was significantly louder, not used to your teasing the way Jisung was. You smirk as you force him to sit back on his heels and wrap a hand tightly around the base of his cock to staunch his release. He was so close to breaking now.

“Grab the cockring from the box, baby.” You tell Jisung, and Minho kicks up a fuss as the younger boy slips out from under him, struggling in your arms. “No, no, I don’t want it!”

You exchange an amused look with Jisung as he hands you the cockring. “He really thinks he gets to have a say in this. What a silly kitten.” You laugh, putting the ring on him anyway. “There, now it’ll be much harder for the little kitty to misbehave.”

You push him back on his hands and knees, ordering Jisung to get the strap and put it on you. He excitedly obeys, buckling it up for you and even putting lubing it up, impatient to finally see you fucking his hyung.

“Good boy.” You cup his face and give him a sweet kiss, then, in a hushed voice so Minho wouldn’t hear, you ask, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Right away, Jisung smiles and nods, kissing you once again and letting out a muffled “yes” against your lips before he excitedly pulls back in order to watch.

Turning your attention back to Minho, you make sure he’s alright too. “I’m going in, kitten, okay?”

“Do it.” He grits, this time unable to hold back the slight way his ass pushes back against you.

Assured that they’re both completely on board with this, you get back into character. Lining the strap-on with his ass, you start pushing the fake dick into him slowly. He whimpers with each inch of it that slides into him and when it’s all the way in, he lets out a long sigh. You remain still for a while as he adjusts, and then for a little while longer just to see him squirm and try to get you to start fucking him.

“You’re so stubborn, kitten, but your body betrays you.” You tease, finally moving your hips. Minho moans quietly as your cock drives into him, bashful little noises he can’t control as his pleasure easily builds up again because of your prolonged teasing.

Shuffling up the bed so he’s kneeling in front of Minho, Jisung hooks a finger under the older boy’s chin to lift his face up towards him. He clearly likes what he sees on his hyung’s face because he bites his lip and his other hand slithers down his body to tug at his own cock.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, hyung?” Jisung asks, but it seems like he wasn’t interested in getting an answer because as soon as his hyung opens his mouth to speak, Jisung pushes his thumb inside and presses down on his tongue.

You don’t fail to notice the hungry way Jisung was regarding Minho as he struggles to mouth his words despite the obstruction. You knew what your boy wanted, and he was long overdue to get his reward anyway.

“Go ahead, baby, use his mouth.” You inform Jisung and grab onto Minho’s hair to keep his head up and his mouth level with Jisung’s cock. “Since he interrupted you so rudely earlier.”

“Thank you, noona!” Jisung gushes, paying no thanks to the person who is actually going to have his dick in his mouth because at this point--just like you had told him earlier--Minho was just a toy for you to play with your boyfriend with. As long as he was in your bed, his body was yours to do with as you please, and right now it pleases you to see him choking on Jisung’s dick.

But Minho still resists, and when Jisung presses the head of his dick against his mouth, he refuses to let him in. Unfortunately for him, Jisung was too wound up to entertain his defiance, and he promptly grips his hyung’s jaw and digs his fingers into his cheeks, pucking his lips open and shoving his length between them and into down his throat.

A loud moan tears out of his own throat when he feels Minho choke around his length, but his pleasure is marred by guilt and he forces himself to pull out in order to allow Minho to breathe. You don’t let him though, quickly stepping in and using the grip you had on Minho’s hair to push his head back down Jisung’s cock because, unlike Jisung, you don’t feel sorry for the older male at all. You hold him like that for a couple of seconds as he struggles to breathe through his nose that was nestled in Jisung’s crotch.

“Don’t be nice to him, Sungie. He tried to break us apart. Use him however you want.” You grunted, finally let Minho go.

Mercifully, Jisung gives him a few seconds to clear his throat, coughing and spluttering violently, before he replaces your grip with his own and pushes his length back inside his hyung’s mouth.

The sight of Jisung holding Minho by his hair and fucking his mouth like that reminds you of the time he did the same thing to you, holding you down with his cock sheathed down your throat. You had to admit--seeing it happen in front of you--you get why it turned him on so much back then, and the lewd sounds of Minho gagging and slurping around Jisung’s cock only works you up further.

Picking up the pace, you try to match your thrusts with Jisung’s, the both of you brutally fucking the poor boy whose moans get louder and garbled like he’s trying to tell you something. Too far gone in ecstasy, Jisung doesn’t notice but you do. You push Jisung back a bit, making him whine as you stop his abuse of the other boy’s throat so you can ask him what he wants.

“I want to cum.” He splutters hoarsely, drool falling down to the sheets as he coughs.

“Still not how you ask. Do you want to try again?” You wait for him to beg, but he still resists. “No? Alright. Jisungie, do you want to cum, baby?”

“Yes, please, let me, noona!” It’s easy for you to make Jisung beg, yet you still look at him with adoration and pride every time he does it.

“Okay, but I want you to do it on your hyung’s face. Want you to cover his pretty face with your cum. Can you do that for me, love?”

“Fuck, yes, noona.” Jisung bites down harshly on his lip, his hand immedietly going to his dick and pumping it furiously as he watches you continue to fuck Minho.

“I think he wants it, noona. His tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth.” Jisung teases the older boy whose face was mere face inches from his red and swollen dick. “Ready, hyung?”

When Jisung cums, it lands all over Minho’s face, covering him with his sticky seed and joining his drool to drip down onto the mattress. With a final grunt, the last spurt of cum lands on Minho’s cheek. Reaching out a hand, Jisung smears his cum all over Minho face, watching with ecstasy-laden eyes as his hyung shudders with need under his fingertips.

“I can’t—shit… please, please, please, ah, don’t stop, p-please, god… cum-ah...” Minho blabs, barely coherent as the need seizes his brain and pushes out every last bit of pride. He had finally broken.

Satisfied, you pull Minho up into a sitting position and give Jisung the go ahead. He quickly grips Minho’s cock and jerks him off in much the same way he did his own cock seconds earlier.

“Come on, hyung, cum for us now.” Jisung coos at him, but Minho doesn’t give in yet, scared that this was a trick somehow. Turning his head to look back at you, he looks to be on the verge of crying. “Please.”

Wow, you had really done him in.

Chuckling, you reassure him that he can cum. “Don’t worry, kitten. You can cum. You’ve done such a good job so go ahead, baby. Cum.”

Giving him the final push he needs, Minho lets the powerful orgasm Jisung’s hand and your strap-on give him, letting out loud sobs as he shakes and clutches onto Jisung’s shoulders, his cum painting your boyfriend’s stomach white and dripping down to his cock.

When you pull away to take off the strap-on, Minho slumps down into Jisung’s arms, the younger boy holding him in his embrace and awkwardly running his hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe his overwhelmed hyung despite him not having any experience in the aftercare department.

“There, there.” Jisung’s wide eyes stare at you, silently asking you for help, and you could almost laugh at the sheer panic you see in them.

Although you still weren’t one-hundred percent over what Minho had done to you in the past, it only takes a moment of seeing the shivering mess that had become of him for your instincts to kick in and compel you to take care of him.

Wanting to help the both of them out--your boyfriend who looked like a teenager holding a newborn baby like he’s afraid he’d break him, and Minho who might as well have been born again for how new the experience was to him-- you quickly put the toys aside and go back to the boys.

Pressing a hand to Minho’s back, you caress his skin softly and whisper to him, “Shh, baby, it’s okay. You’re okay. You did good. You’re such a good kitten.” You trail your hand up to push his hair out of his face so you can look him in the eye and convey your sincerity to him.

You hear a small huff, but it hadn’t come from Minho. You look up at your boyfriend to see him frowning at you, his eyes narrowed and his expression all but asking you what the hell you were doing.

You shoot him a sharp look that tell him to behave then you turn back towards the older boy in his arms. “Think you can handle a shower right now, kitten?”

He shakes his head, burying his face in Jisung’s neck and letting out a muffled whine, “Don’t wanna.”

“What a baby.” Jisung snorts under his breath and it takes everything in you not to grab him and give him a good spanking for acting so selfish and thoughtless.

You give him another sharp looks that has him cowering, and try to keep the edge out of your voice as you talk to Minho. “That’s okay, I’ll just go grab a towel to clean you up. Sungie, stay with him until I come back.”

“But, I--” Jisung starts protesting, a severe pout scrunching up his face at having to take care of his hyung when he’s usually the one being taken care of.

“No buts, don’t be selfish now.”

“Humph!”

“Be good now and I’ll reward you later.” You sigh and go to kiss the top of his head, thinking that it’ll end at that.

But as you get up to get the towels, Jisung follows you anyway, peeling his hyung’s fingers off of him and leaving him curled up on the bed alone.

“What did I say?” You grit, not feeling up to taking care of both your pouty boyfriend and his needy hyung. He’s the one who wanted this so bad in the first place, the least he could do is help you.

“Why are you being so nice to hyung?”

“It’s called aftercare, Jisung. This was his first time getting pegged, he needs the support or he could go into subdrop.” You explain patiently, but Jisung didn’t look like he was interested in listening.

“What about me?” He whines insolently, backing you up against the counter, one of his hands going between your legs. “You’re my girlfriend, not his.”

You shiver as you feel his fingers teasing your slit, reminding you of how you’re the only one who didn’t get to cum. “And you’re my big boy. I know you can handle not being the center of attention for one night. You hyung needs me more than you do.”

“He didn’t even make you cum.” He scoffs.

“I’ve got you for that, angel.” You moan as he flicks your clit and you pull him into a hungry kiss.

“You’re mine, noona.” He mumbles against your lips and pulls you up onto the counter-top, wedging himself between your legs. You don’t get the chance to ask him to fuck you before he’s already sliding into your wet heat. How is he hard again so fast? “Not his. Mine.”

You sigh, grabbing onto his ass and directing his thrusts, setting a fast pace in order to cum fast so you wouldn’t leave Minho alone for too long. “I should’ve known you’d act like this. You’re too jealous for something like this. I shouldn’t have humored you.”

“Sex is just sex, but this is different. I don’t like seeing you fussing over him like this. I don’t wanna share you, noona.”

“You’re not sharing me.” You kiss your way up his neck and along his jawline. When you reach his lips, you pull back ever so slightly so your noses are still touching. “Look at me, baby. I’m yours only.”

His hips stutter at your words and he moans helplessly. “Fuck, say that again.”

You smile in amusement at how much that affects him. Putting your lips next to his ear, you drawl, “I’m yours, Sungie.”

“And I’m yours, noona.” He professes, sticking his hand between you to rub you off quickly so you’d cum together. Your thighs shake as your orgasm rushes through you, and the way you clench around him pushes him over the edge too, his cock filling you up with his cum and his sweet moans bouncing off the walls of the bathroom.

You lay quietly in each other’s arms for a minute, the sound of your panting gradually tapering off until everything is silent.

“He’s sleeping on the couch, right?” Jisung disturbs the silence with his sullen question.

“Sungie…”

“Ugh, fine, but I’m sleeping in the middle.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A/N: Can you tell I gave up on it? anyway this is the final part so there will be no more parts of this. I loved this series but I’m done with it lol. Anyway let me know what you think of the final chapter. did it live up to your expectations or would you rather I never posted it? skskskks

#jisung smut #minho smut #jisung scenarios #jisung fanfics #jisung imagines #minho scenarios #minho imagines #minho fanfics #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfics #stray kids imagines

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silver-lily-louise · 4 years ago

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Trajectory

ao3 link Square Filled: Supernatural is Known Ship: TWI!Malec Rating: General Audiences Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Created for @shadowhunterbingo

Summary: ‘This is Cerberus Falls,’ Magnus explains, a fond ache in his chest as his boyfriend’s eyes go wide in wonder. ‘One of the tallest waterfalls on the continent.’ He twists a hand, conjuring a grey basketball. ‘Hold this out with both hands, and drop it straight down.’ Magnus shows Alec a mundane kind of magic, and reveals a little about his past.

~oOo~

‘Babe,’ Alec asks as the portal closes, ‘where exactly are we?’

Magnus smiles, and pulls his parka a little closer about him. ‘British Columbia, Canada,’ he says, stepping forward and adjusting Alec’s scarf, too. ‘You’re still fairly new to portal travel, so I didn’t want to take you too far. It can be a little disorienting the first few times.’ Alec gives a teasing half-smile, the one that still gives rise to butterflies in Magnus’ stomach, even though it’s been months since he saw it for the first time at the Institute party. ‘”Not too far”,’ he quotes. ‘Sure. What’s a few thousand miles?’ Magnus feels himself flush, and his expression must be the last straw because Alec gives in to bright, happy laughter, shaking his head and declaring, ‘I love you. Alright. So. B.C.. What did you want to show me?’

Magnus regains a little of his composure, linking their gloved hands and leading Alec over to the edge of the precipice they’re standing on. ‘This is Cerberus Falls,’ he explains, a fond ache in his chest as his boyfriend’s eyes go wide in wonder. ‘One of the tallest waterfalls on the continent.’ ‘It’s beautiful,’ Alec says wonderingly. ‘How high up are we?’ ‘Over fifteen hundred feet.’ Alec’s eyes snap to him, and Magnus takes the opportunity to twist a hand, conjuring a grey basketball – hopefully, it’ll be less conspicuous than the usual orange. ‘Hold this out with both hands, and drop it straight down.’

Alec steps back from the edge in clear surprise, before his expression takes on its familiar teasing glint. ‘Is this what you do with immortality?’ he asks. ‘Go around committing acts of mild vandalism in natural beauty spots?’ Magnus rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the smile on his own face. ‘Stop sassing me and drop the ball, sweetheart.’

Alec’s face doesn’t quite lose the sass – not that Magnus minds, per se. Alexander has a wonderful ability to seemingly always laugh with someone, not at them – but he does take the ball, lean over the edge again, and drop it. Magnus joins him to watch it fall, getting caught in a few crosswinds and shifting course slightly before it disappears, the barest white splash of water marking its touchdown far below. ‘Okay, that was pretty cool,’ Alec says.

Magnus pulls him back from the edge again, and resummons the now-wet basketball, smirking a little as Alec blinks; it’s really not been all that long since Magnus’ confession, and Alec’s fascination with the most basic parts of this new, magical world continue to be delightful. ‘All right,’ Magnus says, ‘now watch this.’ And he drops the ball again, this time adding a heavy amount of backspin.

As Magnus expected, it soars away from the cliff.

He beams as he looks over at Alec’s stunned expression. ‘Surprised?’ ‘You could say that,’ Alec says faintly, still looking at the ball – watching how it splashes down a long way out from the cliff, compared to before. ‘Did you – ‘ He gestures wildly with one hand in a way that clearly means magic. Magnus laughs. ‘No, I didn’t – ‘ he imitates the movement exaggeratedly, receiving a fond glare in return as Alec finally looks back up at him. ‘It’s purely physics, and it was actually discovered by a Mundane. Spin affects fluid currents around a moving object.’

‘…Okay,’ Alec says. He takes a seat on the nearest rock, tugging at Magnus’ hand to come and join him. ‘Don’t’ get me wrong, babe, it’s a cool physics lesson all by itself. But I’m guessing there’s something more to it?’ Magnus sits down, marveling idly at the man beside him. He’s not used to being so well-known, not with how distant he’d grown from Catarina and Ragnor until their recent reconnection. ‘There is,’ he confirms. ‘Another reason. I brought you here to show it to you because it’s my namesake.’ He glances over at Alec. ‘It’s called the Magnus effect.’ ‘Oh,’ Alec says, a small undercurrent of excitement in his otherwise casual voice. ‘That’s amazing. Can I ask why you chose it?’

And this is the reason he brought Alec here, for gods’ sakes; but that doesn’t stop the visceral tremble of anxiety Magnus feels at the question.

He takes a slow, deep breath. ‘I’ve mentioned before, how I was… different, in the past,’ he says carefully, looking out over the rocky landscape, not ready to meet Alec’s eyes again just yet. ‘Well, there came a time – in the early 1800s or so – where I began to… realize, I suppose.’ He swallows hard. ‘I won’t inflict the details on you right now, but essentially? I realized that the people I’d been associating with, the way I was moving through the world… it was more than just selfish, and it wasn’t necessary for survival anymore; hadn’t been for most of the time I’d been telling myself that, if I’m honest with myself.’ Suddenly, even the mountains feel bizarrely judgemental in their gaze, and so Magnus looks down at his feet instead. ‘And once I’d come to terms with all of that, I wanted to be different,’ he continues quietly. ‘I wandered for a long time, and I fixed what I could, and I made myself different. And I wanted nothing to do with my old life, my old identity – because I didn’t want to be that person anymore.’

He smiles, despite himself. ‘And, well. I suppose I was a little pretentious back then. Because I heard about the very beginnings of this new discovery, and I thought… that’s what I need. A new trajectory.’ He exhales as steadily as he can. ‘So, I started calling myself Magnus Bane, as a promise to myself and to the world in general. A promise to be better – to do better. To turn away from destruction, and be a force for good. And it’s a promise I’ve tried to keep ever since.’

His explanation finished, he sits there quietly, awaiting judgement.

There’s movement to his right, and then Alec is crouching in front of him, interrupting his eyeline. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ he says softly – and there’s no ire, no disgust in his gaze, just sincerity; affection, even. ‘You know that it’s a promise you live up to, right? Whatever happened in the past, I’ve only ever known you to be kind. To help people.’ He smiles softly. ‘You did it, angel. You’re keeping your promise. I see it every day.’ Magnus laughs, and it’s a wet, strained thing, but there’s genuine relief behind it. ‘Thank you,’ he murmurs, and he knows that it’s barely audible over the waterfall, but Alec nods. ‘It’s a work in progress, of course – I suppose we all are. But I’m going to keep trying.’ Alec just nods again, holding Magnus’ gaze and squeezing his hands comfortingly.

A few long minutes later, he pulls Magnus to his feet. ‘Do you want to – re-summon the ball?’ he asks, mischief starting to dance in his eyes once more. ‘I’ll bet you ten Canadian dollars I can get it to spin out further than you.’ And Magnus chuckles, louder and more decisive as he lets the shame wash away again, lets his lover lead him forwards once more. ‘You’re on.’

~oOo~

#malec #malec fanfic #shtv #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfic #shs #mine

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pappydaddy · 5 years ago

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Ghost of You ii (f.w.)

A/N: Here is a part two for Ghost of You (Requested by the lovely @lovenonymously!). I didn’t know which way to go with this so I kinda mashed up some of the suggestions in the request to create this! Hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader

Movie/TV Show: Harry Potter

Trigger Warnings: Character death, angst, sadness, some fluffy memories, recovery, a mention of alcoholism (recovering).

Part One | Part Two - You’re here!

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation - my gif -

His breath was taken away from him the second she stepped into the moonlight. The purple dress she wore was just an ordinary dress like she always wore but then again, she always managed to take his breath away. He could only manage a smile as their eyes connected, her making her way to where he was standing, the moonlight glowing against her skin like a goddess. “Hello, Freddie.” She giggled, her bare feet stopping to stand in front of him, her dress blowing ever so slightly in the spring breeze that blew past them.

“Hello, Love.” He was finally able to find the correct words in the hectic jumble that was his mind. The fact that he managed to find a girl as sweet and beautiful as the one that stood in front of him boggled his mind. Despite them being so young, he knew that she was the one and that he was truly and madly in love with her.

“I didn’t know what you had planned so I just threw a dress on,” She spoke in an apologetic tone, looking down at her floral dress bashfully. “I don’t even have makeup on or my hair done.”

“You look perfect to me,” Fred whispered, thinking he talked low enough that she wouldn’t hear him. When she snapped her head back up to look at his face, the redness in her cheeks evident in the pale moonlight, he knew she had heard him. He blushed himself, trying to recover from that slip-up. She was the only girl that left the infamous flirt Fred Weasley sheepish. “You really do look perfect.” He spoke these words firmer, stepping closer to her to close the gap between them, his hands settling on her waist.

“I look like I just rolled out of bed, which I did because you wanted to meet at midnight. I had to go to bed so someone didn’t rat me out of breaking curfew.” She smiled lightly, though she had felt like she was in no shape to be seen by anyone with her hair falling in her natural waves and makeup-less face, Fred made those pesky butterflies swirl in her stomach with every look he gave her.

“You’re a Hufflepuff, nobody would rat you out,” Fred spoke over the silence of the night as he swayed them back and forth in a slow dance, turning in a small circle to the beat of the imaginary music in his head. “They’re all too loyal.“ She snorted at this, the sound beautiful to him, but a flaw to her. She slapped her hand over her mouth, embarrassed that she had done that in front of him despite how long they had been dating.

Fred laughed, pulling her hand away from her face gently, his fingers interlacing with hers while his other hand kept a hold of her waist, her hand falling back to rest on his shoulder. The pair swayed gently, the blades of grass tickling their feet but they didn’t mind. Suddenly, he spun her out - shocking her for a second before her giggles filled the night air. The image moved in slow motion in his mind. Her dress flaring up, her hair whipping around, the large smile on her glowing face. He pulled her back into him, her body clumsily pressing against his as she stumbled a little, her hand resting against his chest before sliding up to rest on his shoulder again.

Silence surrounded them as they just enjoyed each other's company. Enjoying the rhythm of their beating hearts, the feeling that crawled beneath their skin from their skin touching, the swirling in their stomachs, the sheer happiness they felt. “What do you think life after Hogwarts will be like,” She posed the question, her voice softer than anything Fred has ever experienced. “I hope we still have dates like this.”

“We’ll have dates like this and many different dates, I will never pass on an opportunity to take you on a date.” He gazed down at her as she laid her head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

“And when we get married, it’s nice and intimate, not a big wedding that’s too crowded,” She continued to think of their future, not even doubting that they would be forever. “We will live in a cottage-style house that’s nice and cozy with a beautiful garden that our kids can play in. It won’t be too far from The Burrow so that we can visit your family easily and George won’t be too far either since it wouldn’t be right to not see him every day.”

“But we won’t live too close to Mum and Dad, will we,” He asked nervously. “I love my mum, but I don’t think I could survive with her dropping by all the time, a couple needs their alone time.” He spoke with his normal amount of cheekiness in his voice and she could basically see the wink he undoubtedly sent her.

“Not too close to your parents so that you can have alone time with me, got it,” She nodded, pulling her head off his chest to peer up at the tallboy. “I’ll write it in my new journal when I get back to my room.” She told him, barely getting the words out before his lips collided with hers, nearly knocking her over by the sheer force and urgency of the kiss. Once she regained her balance, she giggled against his lips, kissing him back in a way that made him melt.

Fred sighed as he slowly floated back into reality, his shaking hands picking up the journal he was staring at. The brown leather covers tied closed with a matching string. It was in the same pristine condition it was in when she first got it from her mother. It was intended for her to write about all the day’s activities to keep as a portal to her Hogwarts years, but it turned into her planning her future, writing it all down on the pages. The only thing that looked different about it was the edges of the pages were turning a bit yellow where she had accidentally spilt a bit of water on them. He didn’t dare open it, he was barely managing to move her things back into their rightful places. Instead, he slipped it into its place on her bookshelf in between her old school textbooks she held onto for reference sake.

“Fred,” George poked his head into the room as Fred turned his back towards the bookshelf. “Dinner’s ready, come sit and rest. You don’t have to put everything away tonight.”

“I’ll be right out, I just have to put one thing back in here.” Fred told him. With an understanding nod, George pulled his head out of Fred’s room to saunter back into the kitchen to prepare the table. He moved across the room to the dresser, picking up the old tube of strawberry chapstick she had left there, shuffling over to the nightstand on her side of the room. Opening the drawer, he neatly placed it among the other neatly placed objects that filled the drawer. With one last look around the room, Fred pushed the drawer closed before making his way out of the room to his waiting brother.

“How’d it go?” George asked when he noticed Fred rounding the corner. George placed the two full plates on the table next to the two glasses of water that were already placed in the spots. Fred shrugged, settling down in the seat George didn’t take, looking down at the plate George had prepared for him.

“Good, I’ve got everything where it’s supposed to be except the closet, but there isn’t much to do there.” Fred answered him, picking up his fork to eat some vegetables. George hummed, taking a swig of his water, nodding slightly.

“Are you going to do that tomorrow? I think you should, Dr. Smith said not to do too much at once,” George reminded him. Fred had taken so long to place the few things back to where they belonged in the bedroom. “And maybe I can help you with your bathroom, the shop is closed tomorrow.” He suggested, knowing that Fred wouldn’t want to do it all alone.

“That would be great, I could use the help to clean the bathroom anyway, it’s a bit cluttered.” He told George after chewing all his food.

“Then it’s settled, we’ll tackle the bathroom tomorrow and maybe my bathroom while we’re at it - it could use a good cleaning as well.” George slid that in there, earning a laugh from Fred. There had been only a few moments when Fred had laughed recently, once being when Ron had managed to slip on a sheet of ice three times and the others from little comments George has made that he never really thinks of.

“Your bathroom needs to burnt and rebuilt, you never clean it,” Fred pointed out, turning his nose up in disgust at the thought of his brother’s bathroom. “After we clean the bathrooms, maybe we could get some takeout? With tacking your bathroom onto the to-do list, we’re bound to be too exhausted to even think about cooking anything.”

“Sure, Fred, whatever you want,” George smiled down at his plate, the smile going unnoticed by Fred who continued to talk. His brother was finally acting more like himself. His footsteps were lighter when he walked, his lopsided smile could be seen on his face more often. He has even been able to come down into the shop and work for a few hours at a time, interacting merrily with customers. Fred had a while to go before he was fully back to himself, but he was slowly getting there. George couldn’t help but to wonder what the new Fred will be like. If he would find another person to love or if Fred having a certain amount of soulmates was real. Either way, he knew that Fred was going to be alright, no matter what being healed looked like for him. He knew that he wasn’t skipping out on appointments anymore to drink, in fact, Fred hasn’t even as much as thought of a drink for at least six months and George had aided his brother in his mission of sobriety - quitting drinking himself to stand alongside his brother in his path to recovery. George looked back up at Fred as he took a break in his story about a new product he thought of yesterday to eat some of his dinner. A loose smile played on George’s mouth as he took his brother in. “I love you, Fred.”

Fred looked up at George, chewing his food before answering. “I love you too, Georgie,” He replied, taking a drink of his water. “But anyway, I was thinking-” He launched back into his pitch, George nodding as he listened, happy to have his brother back. He wasn’t scared of losing someone without them knowing he loved them anymore, but he certainly made it a routine to tell the people he loved that he loved them at least once a day.

He still felt the ghost of you lingering around beside him, but it didn’t bring him sadness anymore. Your ghostly presence provided him with comfort and strength, knowing that you were still with him in spirit. He also knew that someday, when it was meant to happen, you two would reunite in some way. He hoped that you two would spend your days in the afterlife as ghosts, terrorizing people with pranks and practical jokes. No matter what would happen, Fred was sure that he was going to live his life to the fullest until that day for that was what he knew you wanted for him.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley preferences #angst #fluff #harry potter imagines #harry potter #pappydaddy's writing #harry potter angst #harry potter fluff #harry potter perefences #ghost of you #5sos song fic #part two #requested

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aespawpaq · 4 years ago

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Netflix and Chill (3)

IMAX and CLIMAX

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; sh is an avid history channel viewer, sh hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, sh goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

Sunghoon sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Sunghoon’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

Sunghoon scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Sunghoon greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Isa swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Isa, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Sunghoon picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Sunghoon’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Sunghoon invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Sunghoon not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Sunghoon is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Sunghoonie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Sunghoon was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Sunghoon rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Sunghoon, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Sunghoon’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Sunghoon apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Sunghoon’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Sunghoon laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

——

You rarely use the key Sunghoon gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Sunghoon’s house were either the result of Sunghoon picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Sunghoon inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

His mom was going to kill him.

“ Sunghoon?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Sunghoon had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, hoon, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Heeseung would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Sunghoon goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Sunghoon doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Sunghoon’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Sunghoon doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “hoon, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Sunghoon’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Sunghoon sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

Sunghoon scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Sunghoon sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Sunghoon crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Sunghoon’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Sunghoon quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Sunghoon clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Sunghoon will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Sunghoon is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Sunghoon has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Sunghoon scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Sunghoon falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

Sunghoon says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Sunghoon sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Sunghoon laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Sunghoon teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Sunghoon has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

Sunghoon groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Sunghoon preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Sunghoon, you always came first. Sunghoon’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Sunghoon was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Sunghoon grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Sunghoon’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Sunghoon kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Sunghoon was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Sunghoon rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Sunghoon’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

Any other day Sunghoon would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today… well.

You were playing a different game.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

The action makes Sunghoon scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Sunghoon, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Sunghoon never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Sunghoon had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Sunghoon gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

Sunghoon was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Sunghoon leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Sunghoon smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Sunghoon sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Sunghoon hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Sunghoon doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Sunghoon adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Sunghoon‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Sunghoon, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Sunghoon finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

Sensing your uncertainty, Sunghoon tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Sunghoon kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Sunghoon takes your wrists in his hands.

Sunghoon mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Sunghoon that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Sunghoon smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “hoon!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Sunghoon’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Sunghoon either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “ Sunghoon, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Sunghoon wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

Sunghoon chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Sunghoon reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Sunghoon’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

Behind you Sunghoon tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Sunghoon scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

“And?” Sunghoon asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Sunghoon snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Sunghoon barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “hoon— Sunghoon!”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Sunghoon nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Park Sunghoon, maybe Isa was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Sunghoon is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Sunghoon responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your hoon now.”

“My… hoon,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Sunghoon chases both your second orgasms.

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Sunghoon hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Sunghoon catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

Sunghoon laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don’t wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Park Sunghoon,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Sunghoon’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

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one-boring-person · 5 years ago

Text

You Can Be My Wingman (Part Six)

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x reader

Warnings: death, mentions of mental trauma

Context: It's pretty sad :((

A/N: I have very little inspiration today, so I'll upload this and start looking for more somewhere😅

Masterlist

Sweat drenches my brow as I snap upright, my eyes flying open, breath rasping out of my throat in sharp bursts. Darkness surrounds me, thick and suffocating despite the thin sliver of artificial light streaming in from between the drawn curtains, the yellowish colour giving everything an odd tint. Lifting my shaking hands, I cup my clammy face in them, breathing hard as I try to calm my racing heartbeat.

That same nightmare again. That same nightmare I've been having for weeks, the one that won't let me sleep, no matter what. I thought I'd recovered from the accident; I could fly again, and do all the exercises the others did, so why was I still struggling with my mental health?

Raising my head, I sigh in defeat as the memories flash through my head again; the calm voice of Matthew speaking in my ear, the silver streak as a jet flies past, the dread welling up in me as our plane enters a dangerous spin, Matthew's panicked shouts before we eject into nothing, his dead body falling past me, his glassy eyes staring into mine as he screams at me, tone pained and betrayed:

"This is YOUR fault! YOU killed me!"

Everytime, I wake as I hit the ground, fear, hurt and overwhelming grief accompanying the impact.

The nightmares had only started around three months ago, two months after I returned, at which point I stopped sleeping well. Every day, I turned up to training with dark rings under my eyes, my mood fragile due to fatigue, though no one noticed.

No one but Maverick.

I'd promised both him and myself that I'd find help if they continued for longer than a month, but I was too worried that they'd deem me unfit to fly, something which would crush me completely. However, as I sit there, hair sticking to my forehead, body shaking in shock, I finally decide to get help. I need to, if I want to stay where I am in Top Gun.

Laying back down, I close my eyes and drift off, thinking of the dream and its meaning.

It wasn't my fault, it can't have been.

But the more I think on it, the more it feels like it was.

***

"I believe that is all we have time for today. Think on what I have told you and try the medication. It should help." Dr Harris concludes, tapping her clipboard gently as she looks up at me, eyes kind and reassuring, even if I don't feel their effects.

"Thank you, I will."

Getting up, I leave the room, sighing as I emerge into the corridor, replaying the session over in my head. She thinks I have PTSD, which, if I told anyone, would mean I am forbidden to fly planes in combat in case it triggers a more serious flashback whilst in the air. She'd recommended medication to me, pills to help me sleep at night, but I am sceptical about taking them- I've never liked taking medicine, even if it does help.

In my head, the last part of our conversation plays over and over:

"I don't understand, I've recovered, haven't I?"

"Physically, yes. Mentally, well, I'm afraid mental wounds cut deeper than physical injuries."

Pounding footsteps draw my attention, panicked voices accompanying them. Looking up, I notice some of the other pilots sprinting towards me, voices calling out to me and to the doctors around us, shouting for help. One of them spots me, coming to me immediately.

"What's wrong?" I ask, confused.

Panting, the pilot grunts out an answer:

"It's Maverick...and G-Goose...they...spun out...had to eject..." I don't give him time to finish, thundering off into the direction he came from, my fear and concern giving me speed as I dodge around people and objects in the way, eyes wide. A few angry shouts follow me, but I ignore them, making my way to the hangers where I know the commanders will be waiting. Reaching the stairwell that leads to the changing rooms, I stumble down them, almost breaking my ankle in my haste to reach my destination, bursting into the female ones, sprinting through them and out into the open, my heart pounding.

As I emerge into the hot sun, I briefly stop, breathing heavily, locating the correct hanger where the commanders are shouting at each other and at the remaining pilots. Making my way over, I vaguely recognise Iceman and Slider, their faces worried and upset as they recieve a verbal assault from Viper and Jester. Seeing me, the former trails off, his hard eyes softening at my appearance, his jaw clenching nervously.

"Quicksilver, what are you doing here? Get inside!" Another commander snaps at me, his moustache bristling as his lip curls up.

"Let her stay!" Viper retorts quickly, eyes never leaving mine.

"What's going on? Where are they? Are they ok?" My voice is rushed and breathless, concern and fear dominating my tone.

Sighing, the older pilot looks down briefly before replying.

"Maverick and Goose got caught in the jet wash behind Iceman and Slider and entered a flat spin. They had to eject." From his lack of confidence, I can immediately tell not all is as he makes it out to be.

"What are you not telling me? Has something happened to them?"

Chewing his lip, Viper shifts uncomfortably.

"Maverick is ok, he landed in the sea after his parachute caught him."

"And Goose?" Dread fills me.

"We aren't sure yet, but everything points to Goose having not made it. It would appear he ejected straight into the cockpit, which would've done serious damage, even with a helmet." The commander's voice is quiet and sad, and I know instantly there is no "maybe" about this. Goose didn't make it.

Horror, grief and sorrow well up in me, reopening the wounds I received when I found Matthew lying wrapped in his parachute, face bloodied, body lifeless.

Distractedly, I watch as a helicopter hovers into view, the rotors unbearably loud as the hulking machine comes in to land in front of us, barely feeling the onslaught of the overpowering winds. Touching down, the helicopter pilot cuts the engine, allowing the medical staff who have amassed nearby to surge forwards, their voices carrying slightly in the breeze. From inside, a familiar figure shuffles out, guided by an attendant until he shrugs them off, stepping out of their reach, quickly.

Ignoring Viper's protest, I run to him, only slowing when I am around three metres away, at which point his gaze finally focuses on me, eyes dead and unseeing.

"Maverick?" I try first, voice hesitant, "Pete?"

At this, he looks up, eyes finding mine, his facade of strength finally breaking as he strides over to me, collapsing onto me, arms wrapping around my body, tears and sobs muffled by my shoulder. Salty tears welling in my own eyes, I embrace him, stroking his back soothingly, trying to reassure him though I know it is impossible. I know the pain he suffers from, and I know its severity.

And now we both have to face its consequences, as serious as they are.

Pulling away after some time, he looks at me, eyes red and blotchy, skin wet and clammy from his grief.

"How? How did you survive this?" The young pilot questions hoarsely, gaze searching mine.

Shaking my head sadly, I take his face in my hands, wiping away his tears.

"I don't know, I don't know, Pete, but we'll get through this, ok? We'll make it through like we always do."

Breath catching again, Pete throws himself into my arms again, a fresh wave of grief taking over.

As I rub his back in reassurance, I feel my mind straying.

Even if we do survive, how will it affect us, and what will it do to our friendship? After all, mental wounds cut deeper than physical ones, and they are also the hardest to recover from.

Part Seven

#top gun #top gun imagine #tom cruise #maverick #maverick x reader #top gun: maverick #iceman

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tanjamikaelson · 5 years ago

Text

LOVE FOR ETERNITY - PART 90

MASTERLIST

PART 90: | THINGS WE DO TO SURVIVE |

Rebekah was in her and Kol’s current apartment, she was sitting in the living room and drinking her wine when she heard yelling from the up stairs. Then she saw a girl walking down the stairs cursing Kol. Rebekah narrowed her eyes at her and saw that Kol was coming down right after her.

- “Wait up, darling.” Kol tells her, but when she didn’t stop he vamp speeded in front of her.

- “Let me go, I'm not going to help you.” A girl said.

- “Why not?” Kol asked.

- “I’m not helping a guy who cheats on his girlfriend in order to find her. Who in their right mind does that?” A girl questioned.

- “She has a point, Kol.” Rebekah remarks.

- “Shut up, Bex.” Kol tells her.

- “Or maybe I should find her and tell her with whom she is in a relationship with..” A girl told him.

- “She would probably just kill you.” Kol told her honestly.

- A girl scoffs, “Then I just added one more reason not to help you to my list.” then she pushes Kol out of her way and heads towards the door, but just as she was about to open them Kol snapped her neck.

- “Why did you do that?” Rebekah asked.

- “Well you heard her she doesn’t want to help.” Kol replies.

- “That was the fifth witch you killed in the past week. Are you going to kill everyone who doesn’t want to help you?” Rebekah asked.

- “Yes, I will. Do you have a problem with that?” Kol asked.

- “If other witches find out what you do to those who don’t want to help you they will hate you..” Rebekah began saying.

- “Or they will fear me and they will be willing to help.” Kol corrected her, “And what did you do in the past two days? Sat there and did nothing.”

- “Oh please Kol, I offered you help and you told me to stay away.” Rebekah told him, “What do you want from me?”

- “Exactly that, to stay away and not bother me, but you’re still here.” Kol exclaimed, “You know what? I’ll stay away from you.” Then he ran off and Rebekah hasn't seen him since then.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

- “Of course you choose the biggest house in the city.” Kai remarks when he finds Natali.

- “I actually lived in this house while Kol and I were in Mystic Falls, it was the house of his brother Klaus.” Natali tells him.

- “Soo, do you have any idea how to get out of the prison world?” Kai asked while looking around.

- “I don’t have an idea. You’re the one who was once trapped in the prison world, how did you escape?” Natali questioned.

- “Well, twice actually.” Kai corrected her, “I had the ascendant, a celestial event and Bennett blood.”

- “There is a full moon every night here. Is that enough?” Natali asked.

- “That’s not enough to boost the power and we don’t have Bennett blood.” Kai tells her.

- “I will find a way to get us out of here without Bennett blood, and as for boosting the power I’m sure we can find something else.” Natali told him.

- “What else?” Kai asked.

- “We will need to go to New Orleans, I have things that we need there.” Natali tells him.

When they arrived in New Orleans they went to Fangtasia where Natali still had things that they needed.

- “What is this, a strip club?” Kai asked, seeing a stage with a pole for dancing.

- “Sort of.” Natali tells him, “I like to dance there.” she added pointing at the stage.

- “So you are a vampire stripper.” Kai remarks.

- “I’m not a stripper. It’s called pole dance.” Natali informed him, “But vampires come here and they can compel humans to do whatever they want for them.

- “I wouldn’t mind either of those.” Kai tells her and smirks.

- Natali smirks and rolls her eyes, “Anyway, let’s get back to why we came here. Follow me.” She then continued to walk towards the stairs and Kai followed her down to her secret room.

She cut her wrist open and poured blood on the door saying a spell to open them.

- “So what exactly do we need from here?” Kai asked.

- “Dark objects.” Natali tells him and points at the shelf's where they were placed, “Everything you see here is made thanks to dark magic.”

- Kai took the cuffs that were hanging on the wall, “You think this will help? I know only one good way to use this for.”

- Natali rolls her eyes, “Are you really going to think about that right now?”

- Kai shrugs, “Well what else? There is not enough dark magic for both of us.”

- “We didn’t even try.” Natali tells him.

- “I know it won’t work, we wasted our time.” Kai says.

- “If you are so smart you wouldn’t end up locked here for the third time.” Natali told him.

- “And what about you? You let Bonnie outsmart you.” Kai shot back, “You basically locked yourself here.”

- Natali sighted and crossed her arms, “So do you have any better plan?”

- “I say we don’t waste dark magic right now, we need to gather more information on how we can escape.” Kai tells her, “Do you have any books here?”

- “I have a lot of ancient books, but they are all in my secret library in Saint Tropez.” Natali told him.

- “Well, that’s just great. How are we gonna get to Saint Tropez?” Kai asked.

- “Well lucky for you, you are trapped here with a girl who knows how to fly a helicopter.” Natali informed him.

- Kai smiles, “Yeah, lucky me.”

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

- “So you said that your coven trapped you here the first time because you were different?” Natali questioned.

- “Well technically they trapped me here because I killed my siblings and because I was different.” Kai told her.

- “Siblings? How many?” Natali asked.

- “Four and failed to kill my twin sister and the other two. ” Kai told her, “But I killed them when I escaped the prison world.

- “Well we have more things in common.” Natali says.

- “Did you finish off your sister?” Kai asked.

- Natali nods, “I did. Too bad I can’t torture her in hell right now.”

- “What do you think happened to hell now when you’re here?” Kai questioned.

- “I have no idea. I guess we’ll see when we get back.” Natali told him, “Anyway, did you say you had a twin sister?”

- “Yes, why?” Kai asked.

- “So your coven was actually a gemini coven, huh?” Natali said.

- “Oh, you’ve heard of it?” Kai asked.

- “Well, of course I did, that coven exists because of me.” Natali tells him.

- “Really? How so?” Kai asked.

[SAINT TROPEZ, FRANCE: 1005.]

It’s been a week since Natali killed a woman she was staying with and people began to notice that she’s nowhere to be seen. One day Natali heard knocking at the front door and she heard a woman's voice calling out for someone to open the door. Natali walked towards the door and opened them.

- “Where is she?” A woman asked, not taking her eyes off of Natali.

- “Who?” Natali replied.

- “Helen, a woman you were staying with.” Woman told her.

- “I don’t know, I haven’t seen her in a week.” Natali tells her.

- A woman frowns for a moment, “And that didn’t concern you?”

- “It did. I was looking for her, but I couldn’t find her.” Natali replies.

- “Then you should've come to me.” A woman told her.

- “And if I may know, who are you?” Natali asked.

- “I’m Juliette.” A woman replied, “People were concerned that they haven’t seen Helen in days, and they told me that there’s some new girl living with her.”

- When Natali heard her name, she realized that she was a sister of her mother, who was now a coven leader, so she introduced herself, “Oh, my name is Natali.”

- “I’m glad we met, can I come in?” Juliette asked.

Then Natali let her inside of the house and they sat together in the living room.

- “So, how do you know Helen?” Juliette asked.

- “I was just passing through here when I met her, she told me that I can stay with her for a few days.” Natali said.

- “But you've been here for a month, right?” Juliette asked.

- “Yeah, I think it’s already been a month.” Natali replied.

- “And you’re not scared to stay here alone? Close to the woods?” Juliette asked.

- “Why would I be scared?” Natali asked back.

- “I’ve heard that there’s some strange things happening around here. It’s not just Helen that is missing, a few other of my people are missing too. It started happening just after Helen disappeared.” Juliette informed her.

- That was when Natali knew she wasn’t careful enough, “I didn’t know that. Maybe I should move somewhere else.” she says.

- “Maybe if you move my coven will be a safe place again.” Juliette replied.

- “A coven? What’s that supposed to mean?” Natali questioned.

- “Let’s not pretend that you don’t know what coven is and I won’t pretend that I don’t know exactly who you are.” Juliette told her.

- “And who am I?” Natali asked.

- “Don’t you think I wouldn’t recognize my sister's daughter, you look so much like her.” Juliette tells her, “And that name Natali, that was the name she was planning on giving you.”

- Natali smiles, “You got me.”

- “I had a feeling that she lied when she told me that you died at birth.” Juliette told her.

- “I mean I would die anyway, isn’t that right?” Natali questioned.

- “That’s right. Your kind is not welcomed here.” Juliette replied.

- Natali laughs, “My kind? I’m not so different than you.”

- “If you’re not different you wouldn't kill people. The same thing repeats itself.” Juliette says.

- “What do you mean by that?” Natali asked.

- “When I was young there was one boy who was born just like you, everyone treated him like he was human, but when he got older he realized that he could siphon powers from other witches and he didn’t stop until they were dead and he had all of their power in himself. And that was the day when this coven swore to kill anyone who wasn't born with their powers.” Juliette tells her, “That's exactly what you’re doing. That’s why Helen and others are dead.”

- “Well, you see, you’re not quite right.” Natali tells her, “I draw my powers for something else.”

Juliette could then see Natali’s eyes turning dark red, veins appeared under her eyes and a pair of big, sharp fangs aiming at her bare neck . Her blue eyes were staring at the beast in front of her in terror. She never saw anything like that.

- “What kind of demonic creature are you?” Juliette asked.

- “The kind you’ll regret messing with.” Natali tells her and takes a step closer.

Juliette reacted quickly and used her powers to push Natali and she hit a wall, but for her it was like nothing even happened. She was getting stronger by the day. She was getting more powerful when she fed on humans everyday.

Juliette tried to take advantage of the moment and escape but Natali used her powers to closer the door shut.

- “See, I don’t need to siphon powers from you.” Natali tells her, “Doesn’t that make me just like you?”

- Juliette turns towards Natali, “No, you are a monster.”

- “Aren’t we all?” Natali says, “You’re a monster too, you kill innocent children just because you’re afraid of them and because we are different.” then she flashed just in front of her and grabbed her neck saying, “Now you’ll get what you deserve.”

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

- “And that was how I killed my mother's sister and after that I took over the coven and threw out anyone who didn’t want to follow my rules.” Natali said to Kai, “The gemini coven was created at some point.”

- “Well we are definitely the same.” Kai stated.

- “We do what we need to survive.” Natali tells him and Kai couldn’t agree more.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

MASTERLIST

Tags: @mikaelsonsmagic @p3nny4urth0ught5 @cute-freak27 @ias-born @superhalsteads @characterobsessed @hinata7346 @luiza-4-ever @huntress1428 @infiniteoblivion21 @watersenthusiast

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