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shotorozu · 4 years ago

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encountering a ‘pick me’ girl

character(s) : kirishima eijirou, todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki (bnha)

warning : PICK ME GIRL, misogyny (?) pick me girl makes an off handed comment about your body but it’s not detailed at all

PART TWO — PART THREE

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, but they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, angst if you squint

note(s) : i made 2 versions of this post so,, if you’re reading this— then i probably decided that i liked this one more than the other one i made,, anyways, i used real life examples 💀

»»————-　♡　————-««

kirishima eijirou

i’d imagine that eijirou would have an idea of what a pick me girl is— i mean, there were probably 2 of those girls in middle school

but has he experienced it first hand? nahh.

though, eijirou didn’t think he’d encounter one when he was already in a healthy and committed relationship!

eijirou is practically friends with everyone— and yeah, even the most unexpected. so, he’s bound to accidentally befriend a pick me girl

him, being the nicest one out of all of the characters in this list, will still be nice to said pick me girl, despite wanting to snob them to the core

because really— you can’t really fight fire with fire in some cases

but, he can be everything but lenient when the pick me girl starts insulting you for doing certain things, and for absurd reasons too

like,, how you laugh, and how you take care of yourself (for example— if you wear makeup, or how you style your hair)

which is odd! everything about you is everything but the things the pick me girl has stated so.. he cannot stand by.

SCENARIO

the girl giggles to herself after that snide comment leaves her lip gloss coated lips. eijirou shifts uncomfortably— honestly taken aback by the anything but subtle insult that was thrown at you

“like.. seriously! it’s honestly quite superficial if you look at it like that. who the hell would put that much effort infront of your boyfriend? i’d assume they’d see everything AND everything but.. i guess not.”

you blink. superficial? now that’s a new one. the girl infront of you has been babbling insults sugarcoated in boasts the entire time, and you’re just wondering if it’s about time you guys leave but—

“well that’s unfair,” your boyfriend laughs, “i put the same amount of effort as this cutie right here,” eijirou pokes at your cheek, earning a quick laugh from you— which he can only thank the heavens for that

“but that’s different. it actually looks put together when you’re doing it, eiji.” the certain glint in her smile makes you want to wipe it right off with a dirty mop, “it’s impossible to look put together with expensive clothes, but being built like a—”

the sound of the sliding of a chair is quicker than your actions, and it easily cuts her off.

“i’m sorry, but we gotta go, it’s totally not cool of you to say those things about Y/N!”

“what? but i mean.. it’s true, right? i’m looking out for them! they’re literally out here l—”

“bye!” eijirou waves her goodbye with your hand, dismissing the sour expression on her face— as he dashes off with you

you’d question how he’s just so nice to people like that, but when he turns around, you could see the distaste in his eyes

“so that’s what a pick me girl’s like,” shaking his head, his expression lights up with such a quick manner “i’ll never make friends that are like that again!”

safe to say, eijirou’s friend list has been a a person shorter ever since that incident

bakugou katsuki

oh, so that girl’s bold bold.

if she thinks she could get away with being a not so subtle pick me girl infront of bakugou katsuki, then she couldn’t be more wrong.

it’s absolutely revolting— i mean, he hasn’t displayed any romantic feelings towards ANYONE that isn’t you.

also, they’re quite gutsy if you ask me. so congrats for having guts??

i don’t think he’d be friends with a pick me girl. he’s very selective of who he’s befriending, so it’s probably your friend that’s the pick me girl in this case

he wouldn’t know what a pick me girl would be, but he’d probably know the description of one.

over some time, he’d grow some resistance to insults directed at him, but when someone insults his s/o

oh boy. that’s not good. remember when i said that katsuki was almost like your scary and intimidating dog

this is what i mean

knows he can’t make a scene, so his first option is to be dismissive asf— but if said pick me girl literally can’t get it, he won’t be afraid of shoving some explosions into her face

because his hands are rated e for everyone

SCENARIO

“so you wanna be picked or something, is that it?” he hates how you literally have the resistance of a rock— which is something he always liked, but in this case hated. if it weren’t for you— he would’ve blasted explosions into her sorry excuse of a face until it’s beyond recognition (that wouldn’t be hero like, is what you’ve said in the past, but he disagrees.)

but seriously? ugh. he just wants to leave this horrid place, and make some dinner with you in the comfort of his home. why are you even friends with her anyway? she’s not even trying to be slick at this point.

“p-picked? i’m not understanding, katsu.”

“it’s bakugou.”

“right,” her laughter is like nails on chalkboard, “i’m just watching out for Y/N, y’know? there’s no point in wearing all of that.. on their face.” and she’s obviously referring to your obviously very well done makeup

“it’ll make your skin terrible in the long run! and really— i couldn’t really understand on why someone would wear that much, when you could survive with i dunno.. lip gloss at most?”

you would’ve actually said something as a rebuttal, but your boyfriend is quicker, and a lot more direct than anyone else in the area.

“just say you can’t do makeup and fucking scram,” katsuki’s ice cold glare finally breaks out of the act he’s been trying to hold together for you

“their makeup is fucking bomb as hell, compared to your ridiculous spider lashes, lady. come back when you’ve watched james charles’ entire fucking channel.” he harshly states in similar bakugou fashion, despite the lack of screaming.

and if you squinted hard enough, you could see tears welling up in her eyes. but katsuki tugs your hand before anything else could be said

“let’s fucking go, you need better friends.”

he makes you cut ties with all of them, and he practically scolds your terrible choice of friends— but he goes quiet when you tell him that you’ve been friends with her since middle school

“good fucking riddance. next time, i’ll punch them as soon as they say something outta line, got that?” and next time (hopefully, there won’t be a next time) you’ll actually lash out— or maybe,, you’ll let him loose for once.

todoroki shouto

now shouto might be,, socially unaware sometimes. but he can tell whenever someone’s trying to insult his s/o

like,, right away.

now— you both run into this person after a pleasant date, and she eagerly presented herself as your friend

so, her attitude catches him off guard because who’d have anything rude to say about you and towards shouto’s face? especially when it’s about something normal.

like,, wasn’t she your friend?? why is she even like this?

his hostility is very well known, so they should be scared.

he gets detached from the conversation, and he’ll immediately go cold— and shouto would probably go as far as walking away with your hand in his

doesn’t matter if he properly says goodbye or not— if a girl’s being rude to his s/o, they obviously don’t deserve his usually polite attitude. nope, that’s a luxury.

oh— and what more when they’re seeking for his validation. newsflash! said pick me girl won’t be get any from him.

SCENARIO

shouto couldn’t stop the bitterness bleeding into his mouth, when the girl in front of him continued to babble and take up the valuable time he had left with his s/o

initially, she presented herself as your friend from middle school— but as of now? she seems to be more interested in him more than you, despite knowing you first.

she’d ask him a string of obvious questions with very obvious answers, like ‘is she treating you well?’ ‘is she acting correctly?’ and questions of the sort

“oh, sorry! i’d hate to cut this conversation short, but—” you finally decide that it was about time to leave, while shouto looks pretty,, deadpanned right now, you could tell that he was gradually starting to get irritated by your friend’s words.

“wait. thats.. kind of controlling, don’t you think? do you ever let shou make decisions?”

“uh.. controlling? since when??” you question at the accusation. this girl knows nothing about your relationship dynamic, and she’s already jumping the gun and making conclusions.

your gaze snaps back to shouto, who looks just as surprised as he could possibly be.

“yeah! it clearly looks like he still wants to talk” which is an obvious lie, shouto just wants it out of here “i wonder how you managed to snag such a guy like him,” she comments with a smile that looked anything above suspicion (yet, it makes your stomach churn)

you could see the way her hand gets gradually closer to him— and frankly, you’re not sure about what she was planning to do next, “you wouldn’t need to dress all expensive and fancy, if you’re with a girl with an already classy appear—”

“i think this conversation is over,” shouto grip is firm on the wrist that was attempting to grab his shoulder, shouto makes no attempt to even look at the girl infront of him “i don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not humorous. at all.”

“what?” she stammers, drawing her hand back “i-it’s obvious they don’t know how to take a joke! this is why there are barely any good w—”

shouto’s next actions knocks her speechless, his hand rests at the small of your back, before gently guiding you forward— “love, what movie are we watching later?” he says, making an effort to press a quick, yet intense kiss on your lips

“oh,” you breathe out, surprised by this action. “don’t be so tense, love.” shouto comments on how tense your shoulders have looked, ever since she started running her mouth, “now.. what movie do you want to watch tonight? comedy? thriller?”

“you pick,” you laugh at the quick shift of topic. and when you look behind you, you could see shame and defeat welling up on her face. shouto finally feels like he could smile again, the bitterness dissipating from his mouth

after shouto questions you if that was what a pick me girl was, he makes sure that you guys won’t ever encounter such thing again

“you.. don’t have more friends like that, right? if you do— we could always do another friend list cleansing.” this statement makes you laugh but shouto is anything but joking

but being reminded of his reaction to that ‘pick me’ girl does puts a smile on your face.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Bent, not broken 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; fingering, mean Steve

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Here’s part 3. Right now I’m bouncing between things but open to suggestion for the upcoming week for ongoing series. (I’ll likely just add onto my Lee fic).

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The days passed like a pendulum, swinging between paranoia and suffocating tension. You felt like an animal caught and caged. Much of your time was spent in that room, abed and alone. Your only contact was when Steve brought you your meals but the soldat did not appear again. You were relieved not to have the silent watchdog around but it also made you uneasy.

The pain dulled. Your shoulder loosened up first and no longer sent a jolt down your arm every time you moved. Your ribs were another issue and even as the agony was less intense and consuming, the echo of the injury remained. You felt brittle as if one wrong move would break you completely.

Then, when the pain was not so strong to distract you, you grew restless. The walls seemed closer together and the meals further apart. Steve’s appearances were brief and mostly wordless. He’d linger to check on your injury or bark at you to eat, but he wasn’t as talkative as your first day in the hideaway.

There was little for you to do. You were left with a copy of War and Peace and the tight font often left your eyes fuzzy and fatigued, your mind as well. There was a booth hidden behind the narrow door and you washed when you felt up to it, the water ice cold. You spent much of your time staring at the ceiling, wishing it would collapse on you.

You weren’t stupid. You knew it was all methodical. The indifferent isolation. You were being conditioned like a dog with a bell and it was working. You longed for any contact, any company, and conversation.

That day, the door opened but you didn’t move. You laid with your head on the pillow, arms crossed, and one leg over the other. Steve placed the metal bowl on the nightstand and sighed as he stood by the bed. You felt him watching you as you ignored him for the pale white above.

“Sit up and eat,” he said.

You glanced at him. The scar through his eye wrinkled as he grimaced and tapped his fingers on the table. You shrugged at him and sighed.

“I’m not hungry,” you said.

“Eat,” he repeated.

“I will,” you relented, “when I feel like it.”

“Now,” he grabbed the bowl and put it over your chest, “come on.”

You rolled your eyes and sat up and took the bowl. His eyes clung to you as you bent your legs and stirred the thick oats. The goopy mixture made a gross noise as you did.

“You don’t like it?” he said.

“Bland,” you took a bite, “doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” he rebuked, “you better be done by the time I return.”

You looked at him as he turned away and headed for the door abruptly. You choked down the thick porridge and took another bite. You were hungry but the pasty oatmeal went down like rocks.

When he came back, you scooped up the last mouthful and put the bowl aside. He neared and draped a lilac dress by your legs. You stared at it then looked him in the face. His expression was as impenetrable as the mountain compound.

“What is that?” you asked dully.

“Don’t be stupid and put it on,” he put his hand on his hip, “I’d say it’s a bit more fitting than that prison uniform.”

“Is it?” you grumbled as you tentatively reached for the purple fabric.

“Or you can go naked,” he reached out and jabbed your shoulder.

“Fine,” you turned your legs over the bed and watched him expectantly.

He raised a brow and waited. You shied away at his unflinching stare and swiped up the dress. You crawled to the other side and kept your back to him. You took off the shapeless shirt and dropped it behind you. You pulled on the dress and stood, pushing down the baggy bottoms. The dress floated at mid thigh and left you feeling exposed.

“Your ribs are healing,” he remarked, “you should be able to take the bandage off.”

You faced him as he went to the foot of the bed. He waved you over and continued to the door.

“Should get the kinks out,” he said as he set his thumb in the sensor and the metal slid up, “a proper tour is in order.”

You neared as he turned and waited for you to precede him. As you passed, his eyes slipped down your body and he tilted his head. You looked away quickly and carried on into the hallway. There was little point resisting a man who could break you in two with his pinky, especially in your state.

“Looks good,” he said as he followed you out and came up arm to arm with you, “you know, you, me, the soldier, we’re the only ones who know about this place. Not that you know much, huh?”

“I don’t like games,” you retorted, “I’m… tired. Please, don’t--”

“I found this place in 1955,” he led you along the shining halls, “it’s had a facelift since then. A hobby on the side. Used to be Stalin’s hideout, akin to Hitler’s bunker if anything ever went south. When he died, the co-ordinates were lost. They sent me out to find it…”

“They? Hydra? Why--”

“Because the other guys didn’t care,” Steve said, “I saw how they celebrated my death as some patriotic feat. Like I was just a shield. You know, the ‘bad guys’, at least they don’t try to lie about what you are. They use you exactly like they need to and don’t sugar coat it.”

“And your… friend… you like how they use him?”

Steve stopped short and caught your arm, “it’s best for him. He couldn’t handle a clear mind. We keep each other safe, like we always did.”

“Mmm,” you hummed.

“As I was saying,” he nudged you onward, “I gave them a fake map and all they found was a demolished bunker. It kept them happy and me too. I got a place to lay low. Place of my own.”

You turned down the next hall. You were quiet as he led you along, past that room with the bar and around another corner. You lost sense of direction as he took you deeper into the hideaway. You came into a large corridor with a glass wall that overlooked a mountain pass without. You were breathless as you stopped to peer through.

“He’ll hurt you again,” Steve said bluntly, “we both know that.”

“Then why keep me here? You can let me go. I wouldn’t say a word, I wouldn’t even know what to say--”

“And why would I do that?” he asked blithely as he admired the deep drop and jagged offshoots.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“It’s much more fun to keep you,” he chuckled, “and he wanted you so taking you away won’t do shit.”

“I don’t--”

He raised his finger and hushed you. He squinted as he listened but you didn’t hear anything but the winds on the other side of the glass. Steve’s mouth slanted and he stepped past you. You turned to the end of the corridor and heard a soft padding that grew to a tremulous stomp.

“Speak of the devil,” Steve taunted, “sounds like a rough mission.”

When the soldier emerged from the next hall, you gasped. His face was a smear of grit and blood, his locks dangling and slick around his mask. His gear was torn and gashed in places and his metal fist clenched as the plates of his arm bore even more scratches than before.

He stopped and his eyes dilated as he saw you. Steve went to him calmly and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you’re back,” he said softly, “snap out of it.”

He tapped the mask so the soldat looked at him instead. Their eyes met as the soldier’s chest puffed and slowed. Steve’s other hand went to his chest, just over his heart. The captain leaned in and kissed his temple, issuing a whisper you could not hear.

You were too shocked and confused to do more than watch. Steve gripped Bucky’s jaw and turned his gaze onto you. He smirked as he held him.

“Look at her,” he slithered, “isn’t that what you wanted? A pretty little plaything.”

The soldat didn’t move, just stared.

“She’s all ready for you,” Steve let go and clapped his chest, “isn’t that a nice dress, huh? A nice peek of her legs… don’t you want to know what’s underneath? Don’t you want to touch it?”

You took a step back as goose bumps rose on your skin. Steve released him and snickered. The soldat brought one boot down and then the next, marching slowly towards you.

“Let’s have some fun,” Steve boomed and his eyes narrowed over Bucky’s soldier, “soldat, engage.”

His next step came down quicker and you spun on your heel. Without thinking, you dashed away in a blur of terror. You could hear him behind you, the heavy soles thunderous against the slap of your bare feet. You got around the next corner and your ribs throbbed painfully as your lungs burned.

You peeked over your shoulder. He wasn’t running, he was walking. A mock of a chase as he kept within sight even as you raced on. Your heart pounded in your ears and your legs felt like jelly. It was so long since you did more than pace your room or lay in bed.

You stumbled deep in the maze, all recollection of the path Steve led you on gone. You hit your knees on the hard floor and hissed. You had only a moment to gulp down air before you were seized by the back of your neck. You staggered as you were spun and your back collided with the cold wall.

The soldier’s metal hand was quick to grasp your throat and push your chin up as he held you on tiptoes. You clawed at his fingers as his other hand crept up your thigh. Your eyes watered as it felt like a vice was wrapped around your neck and chest. You quivered as the skirt caught on his hand and slowly rose with his touch.

You squeezed your thighs around his fingers and he poked you so harshly you whimpered. Your legs parted for him and he pushed against your bare cunt. You clung to his wrist as your other hand slapped at his bicep. His blue eyes focused on your skirt as he delved between your folds.

Your feet arched as you tried not to slip and your calves cramped. You whined through your teeth as he turned his hand and pressed the heel of his palm to your clit. He bent his finger into you and drew a pathetic yipe from you. He felt around inside and added another, eliciting another tremulous yelp.

“Pl.. please,” you rasped, “don’t… you don’t want to…” his eyes flicked up and met yours.

He paused as he gazed back at you and you squirmed. He hesitated and for a moment, it felt like he might drop you. Another set of footsteps approached evenly and Steve tutted as he came upon the scene.

“You shouldn’t play with your food,” he said, “go on. You know what you want to do. It’s why you took her.”

You choked as his fingers tightened and he buried himself to his knuckles, his hand firm to your clit. He rocked his hand and your body, every tilt sending a jolt through you. Your walls were scoured by his intrusion and your core thrummed at the distant stirring of instinct.

“Please…” you cried.

“Shhh,” Steve came closer and leaned on the wall next to you, “we don’t want him to break something else.”

“Wh-why--” you coughed.

“Faster,” Steve snarled, “make her feel it.”

The soldier lifted you off your feet with each dip of his fingers. You slapped your hand against the wall and reached for the captain. He swatted your hand away and backed up as he watched you. He rounded Bucky and peered at you from the other side and hummed. He sucked his teeth and came closer, his hand on the soldier’s shoulder.

“More,” he urged.

You closed your eyes and shrieked as his hand sped up, slamming into you over and over as your thighs clamped around him. You gritted your teeth as your pulse raced and you were swept up in a sudden fit of dizziness. You felt fire flickering from his touch, building and building a spark at a time as your body rebelled.

“Look at her,” Steve purred, “so weak, so small. Nothing. She’s not like us, she’s just one of them.”

You groaned as your cunt made slick noises around Bucky’s fingers and his hot breath glossed over you. He leaned in and his hand moved so that his thumb pressed along your jaw painfully. You whined as you felt as if he’d crush the bone.

“She’s almost there,” Steve mused, “faster, yeah, like that.”

You wailed as you came, terrified of the man before you and the way your body bent to him. Your nails grazed down the leather across his chest and your hand dangled limply as you let the tide wash over you. He kept on until you could hardly breathe and dropped you suddenly. Your legs folded and you crashed to the floor.

You kept yourself from keeling over onto your face and pushed your back against the wall. You peeked up as Steve took Bucky’s hand and licked his glistening fingers. You cringed as he let go and his attention turned on you. He knelt and exhaled deeply as he smirked at you.

“You want to know why?” he blinked and his nose scrunched sardonically, “because I didn’t want this. I was happy. Just me and him. Decades and he decides to go out and catch a pet.”

“No, I…” you rubbed your throat as it burned.

“Him, I know, but it doesn’t hurt any less,” Steve scowled, “but we can make it work.” He reached to you and brushed his thumb over your cheek, “I can make use of you. Just the way you took his fingers, that look on your face…” he retracted his hand and leaned his elbow on his leg, “and he could use an outlet. Something to ease the tension.”

“You… and him?” you wondered aloud.

“It’s the twenty-first century, isn’t it?” Steve stood and slapped the soldier’s ass. He got a sharp look in response, “not that it ever really mattered.”

“It’s not… I just didn’t… realise,” you rasped.

“Mhmm,” Steve intoned, “you’re just innocent.”

“I didn’t--”

“Get her up,” he ordered, “take her to our room and get her cleaned up. You too. You smell.”

You flinched as the soldier grabbed your arm and forced you up. Your thighs quaked in the after shock and your core ached. He pulled you away from Steve and you limped beside him. You shivered as the cold air enshrined your hot flesh.

“No touching,” the captain warned, “not until I say so.”

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bestiesenpai · 4 years ago

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I have another getou x scared curse reader idea to put into the world and ruin everyones day(s) with. You already know the drill, it’s dubcon, it’s mean, it’s slimy, it’s what we all live for here, and there’s an image to accompany it.

Getou was truly a sick man, in many senses of the word. He had no care for anyone but himself, making it evident at every point in his plan to rid the world of non-sorcerers that he had allegiance to anyone. Everyone was expendable, everyone could be replaced.

He was also sick in the way he treated you. Using your shy disposition to his advantage, he didn’t have to twist your arm too much to get you to do things you didn’t really want to do. One of them being this.

“Come out, (Y/N).” Getou called from the bedroom, staring right at the door to the en suite you were in. He’d cajoled you into following him to his private bedroom and thrust a pile of clothes into your hands, shoving you into the bathroom and demanding you changed.

“I don’t know...” Wringing your hands together, you could barely look at yourself in the mirror. The dumb schoolgirl outfit he gave you had parts of your body accentuated that you’d rather keep hidden from his prying eyes.

“Don’t make me get up.” He threatened with a cheery lilt. You jerked back in response as if he was right in front of you to say it. If Getou had to come and get you, the whole ordeal would be a lot worse for you.

“Coming.” With an almost sad drawl to your voice, you gripped the doorknob tightly and opened the door. Sliding out on thigh high socks, a shiver ran up your body from the cold temperature of the room.

“Well would you look at that!” Getou’s eyes were wide open to take in the outfit, a large smile stretching his cheeks wide. The plaid skirt he’d given you was a rich green and much too short, skimming the edge of your panties and hardly covering the swell of your ass. With a white button up and a gentle cream cardigan to complete the look, you looked every bit the part.

“Don’t stare.” Whining softly, you brought your hands to the front of your body, hoping to draw his eyes away from the white panties you’d chosen to wear.

“Come closer.” Waving you over from where he lay against the headboard, Getou groaned softly watching your legs move. The long socks were a great addition to the outfit, paying off with the way they molded to your legs and squished your thighs a bit.

Coming to the edge of the bed, you couldn’t look at him. It was hard enough to look at him normally throughout the day but now, dressed like this? You would never be able to live it down if you made eye contact with him.

“God, aren’t you just the cutest most useless thing ever?” Getou mumbled, and whether he meant to say it or not you heard it and it made a soft peep come from the back of your throat.

You hated when he called you useless, because you knew it was true.

Playing with the ends of your sleeves, it was silent in the room except for the fan in the corner and Getou’s soft hmm’s and huh’s as he looked at you.

“Turn around.”

“What?” Snapping your head to attention, this was the first time you were looking in Getou’s eyes and it made a strong burn come over your face.

“You heard me (Y/N).” Twirling his finger in the air, Getou cocked his head to the side and waited.

“B-but I-”

“You’re being real disobedient today, will I have to fix that attitude of yours?”

“No!” Gasping loudly, you nearly flung yourself to the floor in your urgency to turn around. Getou liked to find any reason to punish you and you wanted to stay far away from it.

There was the soft sound of fabric rustling but you didn’t turn over your shoulder to see what it was. Getou’s eyes burned into your back, no doubt staring right at your ass.

“Take your panties off.” A disheartened whine was threatening to come out of you, but you did as he said. Slowly bending over, your cheeks burned even more at the whistle he let out upon seeing you.

His hand shot out into the corner of your vision just as your panties came off and you knew what he wanted. Dropping the fabric into his hand, you immediately heard him take a loud sniff of them.

“You think you’re so innocent, hm? Wearing these little white panties.” There was the sound of skin rubbing against skin and that’s when you dared to look over your shoulder.

Gasping loudly, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Getou’s large hand stroking his cock, your panties shoved right against his face as he did so. A pearly bead of precum dripped out onto the tip of his cock, thumbed away and smeared across the shaft.

“Take that cardigan off, (Y/N), I bet you’re getting hot.” It was true, your body was beginning to sweat from the situation you were in. With trembling fingers, you undid the buttons and let the cardigan slide off your shoulders and onto the floor.

Turning back to face Getou, you weren’t sure what to do now. It felt wrong to look at him while he was like this but you knew he wouldn’t have called you in here if he didn’t want an audience. He could have just stolen your panties while you were in the hallway, he’s done it before.

Dropping your panties to the side, his hand shot out once again, this time to grab you and pull you onto the bed. Pulling you across his lap, Getou leaned back against the headboard and tucked his arms behind his head.

“Undo your shirt a little, won’t you?” His voice sounded as if he was giving you a choice in the matter when there was none to be found.

“G-getou, I don’t-” You were squirming far too much on his lap to heed his instructions. You were trying everything in your power to avoid settling too comfortably in his lap and letting his cock rest against your cunt.

“Just sit down, it’s okay!” Pushing you to sit back on his thighs, Getou’s patience had run thin and he grabbed the top of your shirt, ripping it open and making the first few buttons pop and fly across the room.

“Wait!” Wrapping your arms around your chest, for once you used the strength given to you as a special grade curse to keep them there. Try as he might, Getou was unable to take them away and see what lie underneath.

“(Y/N).” Taking a deep breath, Getou curled his fingers around your upper arms.

“Yes?” Flinching at his suddenly soft tone, you watched his fingers go white from the pressure he used to hold onto you.

“I really don’t think you’re in the mood to get punished today, and frankly I’m not in the mood either. But if you want to keep trying to waste my time, I’ll have to-”

“Okay, I’m sorry!” Ripping your arms away, tears started to form on your lash line just from the mere threat about to be spoken on his lips. Getou sighed, content that he could finally get to what he wanted.

He’d instructed you not to wear a bra with the outfit and he was pleased you actually followed through. Cupping your breasts, he squeezed them, making your back arch into his touch and your hands resting on his waist to keep you steady.

Pinching and twisting your nipples between his fingers, Getou groaned at the subtle way your hips began to rock forward against the fabric of the pants he had on. Massaging both breasts, Getou smirked when you bit your lip to hold back a moan.

“Let me see it.” He whispered, and although you whined and shook your head no, you still lifted up your skirt and presented your cunt to him. Dropping a hand down, Getou thumbed your clit and his smirk got even wider when you keened into his touch.

A wonderful slick had coated your cunt, the heady aroma a welcome scent to Getou’s nose. He could easily rub your clit with two fingers, finding the puffy bud more than receptive to his touch.

With a hand on your ass, Getou scooted you up his lap, your cunt just barely in reach of the tip of his cock. He tried to get you closer, let him stick the tip in and sink you down all the way, but you refused to budge.

“It won't fit.” There was an adorable pout on your lips, one that made Getou audibly coo at you. You often said he wouldn't fit, a statement that was true until it wasn’t. Getou made himself fit, whether he was meant to in the first place or not.

“Shut that little mouth of yours, you don’t know anything.” He spoke to you like a baby, condescending and mocking and belittling. Tapping your hands to make sure you kept the skirt in the air, he nudged you closer again, and this time you moved.

“Getou...please...” The tip of his cock kissed your clit, making you twitch terribly. His precum mixing with your slick, making his cock glide easily against your folds.

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it.” He did in fact want to hear you whine and moan, and telling you to be quiet only made them worse because he knew you couldn’t hold them back, there wasn’t any use to trying.

His cock pressed against your entrance, just barely slipping in. With pouty whines and mumbles of ‘no, no’, Getou’s cock squeezed past the tight muscles at the entrance to your cunt.

Slowly, inch by inch, his cock slid into you. Your hands had let go of the skirt, grabbing onto his shoulders instead. When he bottomed out, Getou grunted, grinding your hips against his and curling his toes at the pleasure that followed.

“You know what to do.” Putting his arms back behind his head, Getou leaned against the headboard and peered down his nose at you.

“I...” Worrying your lip, your fingers pressed into his shoulders more as you began to rock your hips back and forth, catching your clit against his skin. Whenever Getou had you on top, he let you do whatever you wanted, knowing eventually he’d get what he wanted.

It was fun watching you figure out what you were doing like it was new to you. The way you rocked back and forth, planted your body more firmly onto whatever surface was underneath and bounce on his cock - it was like you were figuring out for the first time, every time this happened.

Sliding your hands down to grasp the front of his shirt, you bounced on his lap. Your breasts moved with the motions of your body, nipples moving up and down and enticing Getou to take one into his mouth and bite it.

Your breath came out in huffs the faster you went, your ass clapping against his thighs and drowning out the sound of the fan in the corner. There was enough slick between your legs to drip down Getou’s shaft and onto his balls, adding to the wet clicking of his cock sinking into you.

“Surely you can do better than that, (Y/N).” Getou said, lifting a brow at you. His own breath was beginning to come out as soft pants and his cheeks had grown a light rosy color, but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to belittle you.

“I-I’m trying! I swear!” Scrunching your face up, you forced your legs to harder, faster. It wasn’t like you were going to run out of stamina anytime soon, but you weren’t the most deft at being on top of a man.

“Try harder.” Loosening his arms, Getou grabbed a handful of your skirt and held it away from your body, watching his cock disappear inside you. “This messy little cunt should be used to this, but it’s like you’re not even trying!”

“Getou, please!” Aggravated tears fell down your cheeks, pooling at your chin and dripping down onto your breasts. There was only so much you could do, and it wasn’t like Getou was offering any tips.

“Do you need my help? Is that it?” He cooed, mocking the pout on your lips with one of his own. Letting out an aw at the sad nod of your head, he put his hands on your hips. “Who knew a special grade could be as worthless as you are? Can’t even ride a cock right, need my help.”

“Stop.” Sniffling as more tears fell, every word he spoke was another jab at your already fragile ego. Laughing right in your face, Getou bent his knees and planted his feet into the mattress.

Fucking up into you was probably his favorite part of having you on top. You still tried to prove your worth by lifting and slamming your hips back down in tandem with his, but he got to prove that you couldn’t do anything if he wasn’t there.

You moaned loudly and freely as Getou fucked you, your head lolling back and forth. Anyone walking by could hear exactly what was going on and someone probably already has. But you couldn't hold the noises back, not when Getou’s cock felt this good inside you.

All the movement had made Getou slide down the headboard and eventually his back met the bed. Your body naturally followed suit, chest resting against his while your head landed in the crook of his neck.

With the new angle, Getou could use the full length of his cock to destroy you, tapping against your womb with every thrust. His skin rubbed directly on your clit, making pleasured tears mix with the previous ones.

When you came on Getou’s cock, that was probably his favorite part. It was certainly the leading reason in why he kept coming to you for sex. Your walls seemed to milk him dry when you came, squeezing and pulsing around his shaft and making it almost impossible for him to keep going, do anything except shoot his seed inside you.

Cumming into you with a deep, growling groan, Getou was forced to still his hips and ride out the waves of pleasure going over him. Getou could feel every last drop of his cum get drawn out, coating your insides with the sticky fluid.

“Well, you’re not useless for one thing.” Getou sighed when he was finally able to relax and slide his cock out of your tight heat.

“W-what’s that?” Your tears had absolutely soaked his shirt, and as you sat up on your elbows, Getou wiped a stray one off your cheek.

“You make an excellent cum dump.”

#geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen drabble #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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bugsyfics · 4 years ago

Text

The Flower Who Bloomed (Part 2)

Undertaker x Reader

Fandom: BB

Summary: Undertaker requests for another visit with Y/N despite the conflict he is causing. Like Undertaker said, “once a lie is unraveled, the truth comes tumbling forth” —and so it does.

Warnings: Smut/notsfw, some serious teasing

Word Count: 1.8k

————•————•————•————•————•————•————•————

After you leave Undertaker’s shop, dress slightly disheveled and hair every which way, there’s no doubt that you have been absolutely ravished. With one good stare it is obvious what activities you were previously involved in. But even as you walk aimlessly around town to find a carriage in the brisk fall air, Undertaker’s words still play in your head.

•••

“Do not tell anyone about our little encounter, dear. He wouldn’t —they wouldn’t be very happy,” Undertaker spoke low, biting his tongue.

Undertaker phoned the earl, informing him he had seen you trip on the sidewalk, and tended to your twisted ankle. While that was a great excuse, nothing could get past Sebastian and you knew he would try to put the pieces together.

“Come here before you leave, my little flower,” Undertaker motioned to you, “I want to see you again soon. How does next week sound?”

You were unsure after the mess you got yourself into, but you just couldn’t say no to him.

•••

Fortunately when you arrive, no one is at the entryway to greet you, so you quickly walk to your bedroom. As you hum to yourself, changing into your nightgown, a knock at the door startles you. You slowly open the door to the hallway.

“Let me see your ankle, Y/N,” Sebastian says plainly. “It won’t take long. I need to check if it’s sprained.”

You smile wearily and sit on your bed holding out your leg. Sebastian grabs your ankle gingerly and observes it for much longer than you would like. After wrapping it with gauze, he looks beside himself, eyeing a pile of your clothes. “I can take those down to the laundry for you.”

“N-no! U-um I mean… it’s my job anyway,” you stammer and smile at him awkwardly.

“I insist, Y/N. You shouldn’t be walking at least for a couple days.”

Sebastian goes to pick up your clothing and you sweat nervously, aware that your soiled undergarments are stashed between your dress. Of course he wouldn’t say anything because it would be ungentleman-like, but the idea of him finding your ruined panties swallows you whole.

•••

Some days pass and surprisingly no one brings up the glaring flaws in your excuse. Though Sebastian has been observing you more often and it’s clear he’s on to you.

Instead of letting your curiosity eat away at you, you decide to ask Sebastian a question only he can answer. You stand in the doorway of the kitchen as he prepares dinner and clear your throat. “Good afternoon! I have a quick question about something that crossed my mind recently. It may sound a bit strange.”

Sebastian looks up at you and wipes his hands on the towel laid across his shoulder. You notice the slightest smirk cross his lips as he nods for you to continue. “Is it possible that the Percy twins were killed by something inhuman?” You watch as he raises his eyebrows in amusement. “For instance, like in the tales where a supernatural being eats innocent children.”

“Where did this come from all of a sudden? I thought you didn’t believe in those silly tales,” Sebastian prys.

“W-well I don’t… There’s just no other way to explain it. There aren’t any witnesses and the way they were so brutally killed…” you falter from your rambling.

“Did you need evidence to believe in the Church, or was it just second nature for you?”

“I guess it was second nature.”

“Exactly, Y/N. So why question yourself, if what you believe is the only plausible explanation?”

You never thought about it that way. Undertaker wasn’t wrong when he said Sebastian knew all about the supernatural. Though at first glance you wouldn’t think this butler in black would be knowledgeable of such topics. You thank him and turn to leave, but notice a glow cross his orbs and you do a double take, unsure if what you saw was only your imagination.

•••

Here you are back in town the next afternoon to run some errands. Young Master warned you to be more careful and to pay attention to the time so you didn’t have another mishap. You expected his tone to be much harsher, though he is more mindful of what he says to you, since you are his youngest servant.

You cross off the last reminder on your list, smiling to yourself. The timepiece reads a quarter to one and you’re expected to arrive back at 3, giving you a little over two hours to spare. A jittery feeling starts in your belly when you hear the bell chime as you enter. Yet again, Undertaker is nowhere to be seen, so you call out to him.

“Hello? Sir, it’s Y/N.”

It’s eerily silent as you walk further in. You sit your bags down on his desk carefully and decide to call him once more. “Hel—” you gasp, feeling icy hands cover your eyes.

“It’s me, dearie,” Undertaker whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to raise over your body. You eventually relax into him and pull his hands from your face.

“You scared me,” you giggle and turn towards him.

Undertaker’s hat is gone and his hair is pinned back as he stands simply wearing both a black long sleeved shirt and pants. His bangs still fall into his eyes, and you can’t help but feel bubbly. He grins at you, rubbing your arm lightly. “It’s only been a week and I’m craving you, my little flower.”

He rubs circles on your hip and leans down to kiss you, but pauses above your lips. “Oh how I crave you... but you told our little secret, didn’t you?”

“No. I promise I kept my word, sir,” you shake your head.

He presses you onto his desk and runs his fingers up your spine, until he reaches the back of your neck, gripping it firmly. “That is what you say, but how can I be so sure, poppet? I had an unlikely visitor last night, you see. Hehe, I didn’t think you would turn around and disobey me like this.”

“I swear, I can prove it to you!”

It never crossed your mind that perhaps this visitor was Sebastian. You were too worked up to even notice that minor detail.

“Well, show me you’re innocent, love. Then I’ll believe you,” Undertaker orders curtly and pulls away.

You unfold your arms and reach behind yourself undoing your gown, letting it fall freely and the cool air causes your exposed nipples to harden. Undertaker reaches up to caress one of your breasts fondly, toying at your small bud. “How exactly does this prove anything, love?”

The truth was, you were innocent, but your mistake was letting Sebastian take your clothes. He never once impeded on your privacy nor searched through your garments. To him your arousal was just strong enough to detect and he didn’t condone a Phantomhive maid being intimate with a close ally of the Young Master. Sebastian was aware that Undertaker often revealed much more than he should and your little involvement threatened the trust he had with the earl.

Naive as you were, you knew that giving yourself up to Undertaker once more would not only distract him from finger pointing, but also allow you to feel his hands touching your body again.

You shrug at Undertaker, biting back a moan as continues his assault on your swollen peaks. He stops to wrap his arms around you, rutting his clothed hard on against your bare pussy. One of his hands travels down your back while the other rakes through his light bangs hastily. You watch him with wide eyes as he reveals a hard stare and you gulp, wondering what his next move will be. “Do you remember what I taught you last week? Something that I said before ravishing you.”

You shake your head. There was certainly more than just one thing that you considered to be a lesson.

He laughs in a shallow manner and wags a finger at you, “Once a lie is unraveled… the truth comes tumbling forth, my little flower.” He pauses for a moment to pinch your nipples, causing you to whimper. “Sebastian knows.”

Your mouth falls open, but for two reasons: you can’t believe that Sebastian would go to such lengths to find you out and also at that very moment Undertaker brushes across your clit, spreading your slick with his fingers. He eagerly teases you in every way possible, practically making you drip onto the floor.

“W-wait! H-how would he—”

Undertaker grunts, putting his fingers to his lips to taste you. He takes his time sucking each finger as if he devoured an entire meal, savoring your sweetness.

“He could sense it —your arousal— after you returned.”

“Sense it how? He must have snooped through my clothes,” you scoff.

Undertaker shakes his head, rolling his eyes at you, “Have you not gotten it, love? The butler is a demon.”

He places his hands beside you, leaning onto your much smaller frame. His nose ghosts over your ear as he speaks, “He popped by last night, apparently not very happy about us having it away. Hehe, I guess your arousal exposed us, dearie. Right now I shouldn’t be here touching you the way I am —I was warned. But you make me drool with anticipation for your delicate flower.”

Undertaker grins, his face visibly brightens. His hands grab on your hips, even after revealing this shocking information. His grip is possessive, trapping you against himself as he hums into your neck. You love every bit of how he is holding you and you want this feeling to last, but how could Undertaker remain so unbothered?

He whispers, telling you he is ready to take you once again. Though when he pulls away and his face comes into view, your heart starts to race, heavily unsettled. You notice the same glow in his eyes as Sebastian’s, but there is a different gleam lying behind them. You knew at that moment why Undertaker was so infactuated with telling you about other beings, and specifically Sebastian. He certainly isn’t human either.

Undertaker is utterly amused as he watches your eyes widen just as his cock slips deep inside you. He sees that you connected the dots to his secret and he chuckles. “What is wrong my little flower? Have you figured out my age yet? Or is it too many centuries to count on your fingers?” He grabs your hand and places a kiss along your knuckles with a sly grin.

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— bugs

Taglist: @second-weeb-chick

#not sfw #undertaker #black butler x reader #undertaker x y/n #undertaker x reader #black butler smut #black butler sebastian #undertaker smut #undertaker bb #undertaker kuroshitsuji #black butler #black butler x y/n #black butler fanfiction #undertaker imagines #black butler imagines

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inkedtae · 4 years ago

Text

orange tree ⇾ knj, kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ares!namjoon x mortal!reader (f.) x apollo!taehyung

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ greek god au, established relationship (w/namjoon), smut, pwp, filth, poly au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ he built you a pathronon but you would like to expand its patrons… at least just for the evening.

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 7.4k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ dom!namjoon, tattooed!namjoon, silver mullet!namjoon, dom!taehyung, blonde mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, a lil bratty!reader, rough sex, public sex, outdoor sex, angry sex, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), humilition kink, size kink, pain kink, jealousy, threesome, overstimulation, degradation, double penatration (in one hole), exhibitionism, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), deep throating, cockwarming, choking, manhandling, body worshipping, pussy worshipping, basically reader worshipping, pussy slapping, cum eating, clit biting, spanking, teasing, begging, spit play, breath play, breast play, pretty much an ungodly amount of filth :)))

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i’m a hoe :))

❧ banner by ⇾ @kimtaehyunq (thank you so much friend~)

❧ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk and @uhgood-dooghu (a million thanks to these cuties~)

❧ le playlist

⟶ commission for @jamaisjoons through ChangesWithLuv, supporting BLM

Beyond the holy village of Barthes, within a meadow of sun dropped marigolds, you lounge topless underneath an orange tree. Cool winds cut the late summer heat. The breeze hardens your nipples and prickles your exposed skin with goosebumps. Hair tousled, you bite into another orange slice. He did not care for citrus, until he tasted your lips. Then, he planted you an orange tree. He promised you good fortune and a long life.

“You will want for nothing,” he told you. “Just, behave.”

Behave. A word he’d used often with you. Jaw tense, he’d hiss the warning while fondling your breasts or cupping your sex. When he is furious, he is boundless. He fucks like a titan, remnants of a gracious god completely withering away. Tight grips, rough pounds, and seething threats that promise such painful pleasure, Kim Namjoon is a red hot planet of sexual destruction. So angry, so lustful, he serves you a cockful of discipline and then some. You are helpless. To his wrath, you are subjected. But, you don’t mind. The truth of the matter is, your body is always alive when buried under his.

“You’re a minx,” a deep voice states behind you.

You sit up, fruit juice trailing down your arm. Lips in a pout, you gaze up at the tall man behind you. Blonde hair, symmetrical face, sharp collarbone, broad chest and - he smirks - and, oh so sinister. How could a delicate smile be so devilishly sincere? And he brands you a minx… what does this handsome man know of you? How long has he been watching? Swallowing your bite thickly, you try and fail to fathom his beauty.

He pushes himself off the tree trunk and circles around you. His eyes dance around the thin, red blanket, the array of fruits, and braided loaves by the wicker basket before trailing up your exposed legs. A shiver snakes around your curves. The way his eyes devour you makes you think he did not stumble upon this hideaway accidentally. Namjoon took extensive measures to ensure no one would. No, this man knows. He must. Why else would he not question your presence alone under the only tree? He accepts it, expects it.

Pushing your sticky arms around your breast, you attempt to somewhat conceal yourself and ask, “Are you a traveller?”

He shakes his head. The wind plays with his hair the moment the sun emerges behind heavy clouds. Its natural glow lights up his figure, in all its holy glory. Well-toned, pierceless, inkless, chiseled features are all too accurate to be human. He is pure. There is very little scarring on his skin as well. He looks down right angelic, prophetic, utterly godly.

Has Namjoon really entertained your fantasies? You first made the suggestion off hand, completely innocent in your phrasing, until his face fell. Stone fierce gaze slicing through your soul, you couldn’t help but describe an ocean’s worth of desires involving more than one man by your side. You were fucked to tears against the tree until it’s branches were bare and the ground was covered in ripe fruit and loose leaves. You thought that would be the end of it. But now, as you carefully stare at the god while he shamelessly sips on your near nakedness, you wonder just how wrong you might have been.

“Have you come to watch?”

“To worship.”

Your arousal slicks your thighs. Pressing your legs together, you suppress the giddy shivers that caress your spine. Though excited, you really can’t believe Namjoon did it. It was a joke but, scanning the sun god’s frame once more, you’re glad he didn’t take it that way. Face flushed, you lie back in your previous position. On your side, breasts on full display, you toss your hair aside. As your lips part to question the details of his intentions, you catch a familiar silhouette by the sea, in the distance. Flickering your gaze between the two men, you wonder if this new god was sent to test your loyalty or limits? The figure nods. You smile.

Attention returning to the golden god, you ask, “Apollo, is it?”

“Taehyung,” he corrects.

“Is that the name you prefer I scream?”

He pauses. Those mismatched eyes widen at your intrepidity. Dazed in confusion, he scans your frame once again, as if reprocessing your presence. He’s underestimated your wits, you realize, but the newfound understanding in his eyes reassures you that it won’t happen again. Good. He’s a quick learner.

Quirking a brow at the blanket beneath you, he asks, “May I?”

You nod once. He licks his lips twice, bites on the bottom one, then seats himself beside you. On his side, bare chest on display, he takes in the scenery from this new angle. Flowers bloom under a peachy dawn, and the vast fields of greenery wither to sandy shores where the sea waves as a way of greeting. His cocky stare lingers on your boyfriend before settling back to your little shrine underneath the orange tree. It’s a parthenon all on its own, with you as the center of its divinity. This detail seems to intrigue him more than it should, but you assume it might also have something to do with being watched.

Taking his hand in yours, you feel the dimming warmth of the setting sun. Who’s manning the chariot, you wonder, and would he be willing to let you ride it? Your bones tremble beneath your flesh at the impression of a distant growl. Oh, right. You almost forgot Ares can read your mind. Being something of a soulmate, he’s connected to you in ways other gods are not. Another growl slices through your thoughts. Jealousy sounds so good on him. Hearing his frustrations, knowing he’s enjoying the way you indulge, flusters the anxious bundle of nerves at your core.

Taehyung chuckles. Inches away now, his hot breath fans over your cheek. Fingers trailing up from your hand, along your arm then to your neck, he wraps his hand around your throat. He presses his thumb in the divet just under your chin, teasing a choke but never actually going through with it. You wonder what Namjoon must be hissing by the sea. What kind of curses is he throwing? Just picturing his furious eyes and cliffed jaw tickles the pit of your stomach.

“You’re precious,” Taehyung whispers, lips pressed against your chin. “I understand why he hides you from us.”

Us? Olympus knows of your blasphemous citrus temple? Usually, this kind of revelation would grant you a lightning bolt to the heart and an eternity in Tartarus. Only this wakes something different in Taehyung. His breath shallows, erection pokes at your thigh. He’s aroused by the idea of worshipping someone as powerless as a mortal. Or perhaps, you wonder as Taehyung nibbles on your skin, he simply adores displaying his power. Either or, you decide to make the most of what your Ares has granted you. Gaze finding his broad frame again, you let out an exaggerated gasp.

Namjoon flinches. However, it isn’t until you press your body against Taehyung’s that he cringes. He shifts his weight, fist clenched by his sides and you swear you can see steam hovering over his head. Namjoon is livid. But, Taehyung is oblivious. Too consumed by your pleasure, he tightens his grip on your throat and trails his open-mouthed kisses down to your breasts. Nipple between his teeth, Taehyung groans in hunger. Tongue teasing, he licks to play, not to soothe any of the stings. Your toes and legs hook around his waist. Hips rolling, you tease a preview of what you have in mind.

Taehyung shifts half an inch away though. You know it’s not because he didn’t enjoy the gesture, the throb against your hip reassuring you just how much he would really enjoy it. It still hurts your pride, however. Twinges of humiliation taint your soft features. He offers half a smirk as a means of comfort.

“He told me you’ve got quite a mouth.”

Is that an excuse or explanation? In both cases, it’s weak. He traces your face, fingertips so soft you almost forget the indirect rejection. Charming, his tiger starved gaze reflects hints of amusement. You’re easy prey, a fact that crumbles your courage. He is not here to coddle your pride, to serve the goddess of this naturous parthenon, but rather to obliviate it. A pitiful pile of pleasure is all he wishes to make of you. Though, now you wonder, is he doing this because he wants to, or because he’s ordered to?

Eyes darting between Apollo and Ares, you swallow thickly. The wondrous glow in Taehyung’s gaze makes you pause. Perhaps you’ve been too hasty. Perhaps they were both counting on that. The humiliation returns ten fold and prickles your skin upon realizing how careless you have been. Too quick to show your keen interest in devouring a different dose of daylight, you did not make Taehyung work as hard as he should’ve. And knowing that must have been what Namjoon was expecting only festers your heart with anger. This isn’t an opportunity to indulge, you conclude, but to reprimand. The both of them want to sip on your submission. The role of a meek mortal amuses them more than it should. It turns you on more than it should. So, you pull away more than you should.

Laying back on your elbows, you redirect your gaze to the sky. You can feel both pairs of eyes studying you. Taehyung props himself up on his forearm and looks over at your suddenly calmed features. It’s almost as if you’ve never exchanged a word at all.

“Funny,” you restart, all cards hidden this time. “He never mentioned you.”

Angry, confused, perhaps both, Taehyung stares. He blink, blink, blinks before he fully registers what’s been said. You can feel Namjoon’s delight though. The pride he has in the way you sassed a rival resonates deep in your core.

As you shimmy out of your dress, Taehyung finally scoffs a chuckle. You attempt to ignore the way it lights your soul with desire and focus on Namjoon’s silhouette. He looks closer, lurking by the tall grass, though still near the sand. Fully naked, you try to school your features and pretend you don’t notice the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches while Taehyung’s falls slack. Your hands rests on Taehyung’s bare thigh long enough to make him shudder and your boyfriend growl. It’s almost all too easy to push Namjoon’s buttons. He hates it when you do something simply because you can.

“You abuse your power,” he always tells you.

And, with a smile, you always reply, “I don’t abuse anything, Joonie. You just can’t refuse it.”

Taehyung seems to prove this statement now, falling prey to the way you toy with him. Half focused, you’re paying enough attention to him to feel his frustration. Displeased with the way you have your eyes glued on the god of war, Taehyung huffs and inches closer.

“Do I need to plant you an orange tree?” he teases. Well, he attempts to anyways. The resentment in his tone seeps through instead.

You bite back a smirk. “You can try.”

His eyes flash with annoyance. Chewing on the insides of his cheeks, Taehyung raises a brow. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking, but you can safely assume he’s highly debating it. His eyes shift around the tree the two of you currently lounge under. Sparing you a glance, he scoffs. Perhaps he doesn’t think it’s worth it, you wonder. It’s no matter to you. All it really means is more time spent frustrating him, teasing him beyond-

The ground crackles, splitting open with the presence of new roots. Bare branches rise and twist around the orange tree trunk. The deep green leaves sprout. Then, ripe figs bloom. They dangle closer to you than the oranges do. You don’t have much time to really admire them, however, as a loud rumble rattles your bones. The sound is enough to snap your fearful eyes to the seashore. Namjoon is gone.

Shit. Have you taken this too far? Namjoon did plant this tree for you. He had never so much so as looked at another mortal. His allegiance, devotion, and adoration has been declared to you on more than one occasion. You are all he ever sees, thinks, breathes. Swallowing thickly, you mentally call him back. It’s all in good fun, you try to convince him. A quiet hum from the other side of the line is enough to soothe your anxiety. You lean back into the other god.

Taehyung couldn’t be less concerned. Instead of searching for Namjoon, as you seem to be interested in doing, he latches his lips onto your shoulder, a single hand cupping your breast. You gasp. Taking this as an encouragement to continue, Taehyung trails a wet arrangement of open mouthed kisses along your neck. Lips pressed to the shell of your ear, he hisses, “Quite a fucking mouth, indeed.” He digs his fingertips into the flesh of your breast and continues, “Might need some good dick to keep it in check.”

The thought is appealing. So much so, that you cannot help the way your eyes widen and glisten with interest. Having his cock shoved down your throat while he growls at the sheer sight of it alone has compelled your undivided attention. But, Namjoon’s rage still scratches at your bones, warning you against playing too much.

You scoff. “Who says I don’t already have that?”

Taehyung does not reply. Not a smirk graces his lips nor breath escapes him. He simply leans in for a kiss. You find yourself giving in all too quickly. He slides his hand down to cup the space between your thighs and you cannot find it within you to push it away. In fact, you spread your legs further apart and tell yourself it’s reactive. The jolt of your hips up into his hand though… that might’ve been calculative.

But the simple gesture of rolling your hips into his palm has shown all your cards once more. He reclaims the power, pulling away from the kiss and your sex. He clutches onto your hair, a deadpan expression the only means of emotion now. In huffing silence, he yanks on your hair, guiding your head down to his crotch. You hiss, the gesture proving more pleasurable than painful as you feel a fresh rush of your wetness further stain your legs.

His silk skirt, pinned up and hanging from his hip by an arrowed, gold pin, lies in a disarried pile beside him. His huge cock is all that stands before you. He’s thicker than Namjoon, but, even with its impressive length, it does not compare to your boyfriend’s size. Taehyung is massive, but Namjoon is monstrous.

Your mouth still salivates all the same. Tip oozing precum, Taehyung shoves your face against his balls. His thick scent rolls your tongue out. Heavy in lust, he mostly smells of lemons and cream. You’ve always adored citrus… Namjoon knows this well. And though you expected to feel your boyfriend’s anger at this revelation, all you feel on the other side is emptiness. You wonder where he’s gone.

Or, at least you attempt to wonder. The moment you feel the impression of Taehyung’s weighty balls against your lips, all your thoughts dissipate. You swirl your tongue around each one before dropping them in your mouth. Suckling, drool dripping, your enthusiasm cannot be hidden any longer. Moaning maniactically, your eyes roll back.

Taehyung gasps and hisses. The peak of his groans, however, surfaces when you wrap a hand around his thick cock. You were ready to start pumping until you realized a single hand barely even covers half of him. Both hands wrapped around his length now, you twist and drag them up and down. Every so often, you tighten your grip a bit and let out a throaty moan. He shudders each time, legs trembling from your attention.

On your knees, with your ass up high for any onlookers to easily see, the wind lashes at your heat. You squeal, then pull his balls out of your mouth to spit on his cock. The thick wad makes it easier to pump him. Brows furrowed, he runs a hand through his golden hair and shakily sighs… then his sight sets on something behind you. He smirks, white canines a dangerous nod to his power.

A familiar hand rests on the small of your back, the other landing a harsh smack on your ass. You scream and fall forward onto Taehyung, face fully buried in his cock now. He laughs heartily, running a hand through your hair as a weak excuse for comfort.

The hand behind you does not stop after one smack. It goes in for second, then third, and before you know it, your ass is burning with stings and pussy wetter than the ocean behind you. The pain ignites something viciously erotic, cradling your heart enough to make you whimper. It’s the idea of being used, you assume, and it only makes you perk your ass up higher.

His raspy scoff makes you shiver, spine tingling with excitement. He gropes onto your ass and grunts, “Don’t try to be a good girl now.”

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Namjoon uses this harsh grip to shove your face further against Taehyung’s crotch. He pulls back and tries again, making sure your mouth engulfs his friend’s cock this time.

“You want to suck his cock, huh? Then fucking suck, you little slut,” he growls.

Your face flames with embarrassment. You can’t even bring yourself to meet Taehyung’s gaze. He merely laughs through a moan, leaning back on his hands as he watches you choke on his cock. You really can’t take him all in one go; you haven’t even found a way to take Namjoon in a single motion. But, your boyfriend couldn’t care less. He pushes your head down and keeps it there. Your jaw aches, throat burns, contracting around Taehyung’s thickness enough to make him throw his head back. Tears spill and spill and you foolishly think this will be the height of his punishment.

Then, in he goes.

“Such a wet little bitch,” Namjoon hisses as he pushes his cock into your pussy.

You let out a strangled whine against Taehyung, much to his pleasure, and attempt to spread your legs, but Namjoon keeps them in place. They’re barely a hip’s length apart. The pain prickles against your pussy’s wall, making you gag a sob around Taehyung’s cock. The pressure of Namjoon’s huge dick behind you and the weight of Taehyung’s in your mouth trembles your posture. You shake under the intimidation and it doesn’t help at all that Taehyung’s dick is suffocating you.

Namjoon pulls your head up the moment he fully enters. Gasping, you try to catch your breath. You inhale deeply each time, worried Namjoon will shove you back down on Taehyung’s cock without warning. Instead, he gives you a quick moment to breathe, ramming in and out of you like he’s riding a stallion.

Taehyung, eyes half-lidded, admires the way you drool and babble all over yourself. You heave, holding his gaze long enough to realize he’s mocking you, tongue out and breathes exasperated. Then he laughs and Namjoon laughs, and your pride shrivels up. Dignity on the brink of shattering, you try to avoid his gaze, biting your lip to swallow your moans as Namjoon works his way in and out of you.

But Taehyung will not have any of that. He nudges your wet chin back to him and teasingly pouts. “Is baby embarrassed?” he asks, tone more menacing than that taunting gaze of his. You glare at him, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Cupping your chin, Taehyung squeezes your cheeks to pucker your lips. “Answer me,” he seethes.

Parting your lips, you’re about to confirm his statement when Namjoon grunts behind you. He thrusts his hips particularly harder this time and your balance crumbles. You fall over Taehyung. He catches you with his lips, his hand trailing from your face to your neck and gripping onto it like he owns it.

Namjoon is displeased. With a growl, he snaps his hips up, balls shoving their way in you too. Your teeth knock with Taehyung, causing him to grunt and glare at the god behind you. You watch him stare your boyfriend down while tightening his grip on your neck. He goes to say something, a curse judging by the placement of his lips in his teeth, but Namjoon pulls you out of his grasp before Taehyung can even get a syllable out.

Replacing Taehyung’s hand with his own on your neck, Namjoon pulls you back up against his chest. His other hand wraps around your waist. Lips to the shell of your ear, he hammers into you and whispers, “Don’t go forgetting who you belong to.”

You hold Taehyung’s hard stare. His face reddens, cheeks drawn into his mouth as he glares. You whimper, pouting and nodding to Namjoon, but neither one of them seems convinced. Taehyung’s brows raise as if you’ve given him some sort of sign, and Namjoon’s hissing warnings against getting carried away.

“Better not say his name.”

Out of sheer spite, you part your lips to utter the other’s name. However, the word is consequently pounded right out of your mind the moment it emerges. Neither god gives you another moment to develop a reply at all as they battle for your attention. A part of you wishes that each of them simply takes turns, but you already know how useless that would be. Neither one of them will be willing to wait and watch. Namjoon already slipped himself in, the act of watching being too distant for him.

And it seems to be the same for Taehyung as well. He can’t sit still, can’t just watch you get ravished by someone else. You catch the annoyed twinkle in his eye darkening every time Namjoon makes you scream. Swallowing thickly, Taehyung shifts so that he’s lying by your knees and pulls the plump, upper flesh of your pussy apart. Then, smirking, he dips his head in and enthusiastically sucks on your clit. Teeth grazing, he bites and nibbles, drawing the most high-pitched squeals out of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his face further against your pussy.

Namjoon huffs a groan against your cheek. Pounding in full force, he loosens his grip on you a bit. Your hips jolt forward, Taehyung’s teeth clamping down on your clit. You cry out, both hands back over Namjoon’s arm. The god by your knees did not escape unscathed either, his lips slightly bruised from the hit. He drags his gaze up to you, glare deadly.

Guts twisting in ecstasy and guilt, you whimper and shake your head. “Sorr-”

Your apology clinches in your throat as Namjoon tightens his grip on it. “Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore,” he grunts into your hair.

Taehyung catches onto Namjoon’s sly gesture quickly, hungry eyes aflame for vengeance. “Keep her still, or I’ll fuck her into the ground.” His deep voice tickles the swirling pit of your stomach. So rich and raspy, his dulcet voice guides you closer to your orgasm than you’d be brave enough to admit.

Subsequently, Taehyung relatches his lips to your clit. Namjoon swallows enough of his pride not to shake him off again. And you shudder as high doses of ecstasy creep over your nerves. It pumps your veins with excitement, anticipation and sheer joy. Even when they’ve mocked you and used you as a pocket pussy- a set of holes, you cannot deny how horny it makes you for them.

Namjoon huffs your name in your ear, whispering about your tightness, about how he knows how fucking close you are. “Baby is gonna cream,” he mockingly coos. “Do you want him to taste you? Are you that much of a slut, you want another man to taste you? He’ll get addicted.” Namjoon grunts thrice before continuing, “But you already know that, right? You want him addicted. You want him to worship that little cunt of yours, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck yes!” you screech. Whether it is in reply to his questions or simply a reaction to the dual assault of your pussy, you’re not quite certain. But, Namjoon is. And he’s irate. Shaking with anger, his pounds reach a pace unknown to gods, even Taehyung raises an impressed brow.

Your next intake of air cinches somewhere in your throat. You try to scream, to cry, to make some sort of sound as your cum rushes out of you. Gushing, slouching, your pussy makes enough noise that your mouth doesn’t need to. Both men fall victim to it - to you - anyway. Squirming in Namjoon’s hold, there’s very little you can do. Your mind is foggy, vision blurry, but it doesn’t stop either of them. A distant clash of throaty moans fill the fields, though you can’t register much of that either. Your ears are ringing too much to hear more than your own heartbeat struggling to keep up.

Taehyung growls, his hands constantly knocking against Namjoon’s. Your dazed gaze falls to meet his. Eyes blazed with sexual frustration, he claws at your hips and pulls you forward against him. Namjoon, however, keeps a strong hold on your waist. Your torso’s his for the taking. He grabs hold of your chin and whips your head back to him.

“You look at me when you cum,” he seethes. “Or you won’t cum at all next time.”

Half a breath escapes you in response, but it seems to be half a breath too late. Namjoon emits a raspy groan so sinister it would be a crime to simply call it a growl. He roars. You feel the vibrations of the sound in your spine, another dose of your cum rushing through you. Then, all too quickly, he lets go of you. It takes his hands off your chest for you to realize your legs gave out long ago. You instantly fall to your knees. Taehyung is quick to catch you in his arms. Lips inches apart, Taehyung looks ready to share some of his oxygen with you when Namjoon orders, “Turn her around.”

Taehyung glares over your head. Gulping, his lips twitch in a fake smile as he lifts you. You, however, cannot let him give in that easily. Besides, nothing is better than angering the god of war. His stubborn, victory-bound heart will not rest until you submit to him over Taehyung. And, throwing you into the enemy’s arms does not seem like he’s trying hard enough to win, to discipline you. So, after Taehyung turns you around in his lap, you press a passionate kiss upon his lips, slipping your tongue in for good measure. Taehyung snakes his hand between your legs too, fingers playing all too much for you to stay silent. Between kisses, you sneak a glance at Namjoon, finding Taehyung already doing the same thing.

Towering over you, skin inked, nipples pierced, muscles flexed and slick with sweat, Namjoon huffs. His jaw is locked, a gesture you’ve learned isn’t at all meant to be comforting. With his cheeks sucked in and a brow quirked, Namjoon jerks himself off to the sight of you so openly defiant.

“Open your dirty mouth,” Namjoon orders through gritted teeth. “I need to clean it out.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, his fingers ceasing their movements as he cups your sex instead. “So dramatic,” he teases, earning a cold stare from Namjoon.

You resist the urge to giggle, having to choose your battles carefully. Taehyung has already gotten too much attention anyways, you decide. Pushing his hand away from your pussy, you ignore the wet kisses Taehyung peppers upon the nape of your neck and gaze up at Namjoon with your mouth open.

He bites his lip to keep from smirking. And, with a loud, chest drawn groan, he releases his load all over your chin and breasts. The warmth of his cum sets your skin ablaze. It feels just as thick as it tastes. Licking around your face, you try to swallow whatever you can get. A little smile breaks out on Namjoon’s face, swelling your heart with pride.

However, Taehyung isn’t as moved by the gesture as you are. He tangles a hand in your hair and pulls your head back against his shoulder. “That’s enough of that,” he breathes over your face. Then he wipes the rest of Namjoon’s cum off with the pad of his thumb and pecks your lips. He rubs the cum into your nipples, teasing them between his thumb and forefinger.

You almost forget Namjoon's presence. That is, until he grabs hold of your ankles and yanks you right out of Taehyung’s hold. With a loud gasp, you’re on your back, legs spread and Namjoon at the center. He gazes lazily down at you, like handling your body is a casual passtime. There is something glittering within that suspicious ease, however. Something cocky, angry, and terrifying. Hand around your neck, Namjoon jerks you off the floor and shoves you back into Taehyung’s arms.

The golden god catches you with a grunt. He draws his brows together in confusion, silently questioning Namjoon. He parts his lips, but your boyfriend huffs, cutting him off. Namjoon grabs you by your bicep and turns you around to face Taehyung.

After making sure your legs are spread and straddling the other god’s waist, Namjoon seethes, “The simplest instructions.” His warm tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. Between nibbles he continues, “You can’t even follow the simplest instructions. That can’t be easily forgiven anymore, baby.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, considering he’s never punished you in this position before. Usually, being on top is a reward. He grants you a sliver of control, consequence free, when you’ve been well-behaved. This level of generosity is a rarity. However, as Namjoon pushes you further into Taehyung, with you wrapped around his torso, you begin to wonder what kind of punishment you’re in for, and which one of them is administering it.

Of course, these thoughts are fleeting as Taehyung’s fat cock prods around your pulsing hole. Sparks of bliss set to flames the nerves bunching around your clit. You shudder each time he brushes his tip against it. Petting your hair back just to grab it, Taehyung breathes a chuckle into the crook of your neck. He licks and sucks on your delicate skin like you belong to him. And for a split second, you almost think you do. The sweet, wet kisses and the way he eases into you only just has you forgetting that Namjoon is standing over you, watching as another god worships.

With a smack, your memories jolt back. The sting of both cheeks makes you all too aware of his presence now. You cry out, falling over Taehyung clumsily. The spank hit so hard, so fast that it even has Namjoon hissing from the impact. Even still, he smacks you again and again and again. “You still have no idea what you’ve asked for, do you?” he questions.

You thought you did. You hoped you did. But, as Namjoon spanks you with added force, you realize just how right he is. You whimper into Taehyung’s shoulder. He’s kept his cock warm in your tight, clenching hole when Namjoon begins to get vicious with his spanks. Chuckling and mocking you in whispers, Taehyung finds your suddenly all too obedient state entertaining. It flames your face with shame, your entire body caught between wanting another serving of cock or slaps. He imitates your whimpers, coaxing more tears out of you before hissing, “If you had any real shame, you’d get off my cock and go suck your boyfriend’s.”

“She’s a fucking slut,” Namjoon answers, landing another slap to your tenders cheeks. “Why’d you stop fucking her?”

Some humanity flashes in Taehyung’s eyes as you nuzzle your face against his. He mutters something incoherent, along the lines of, “She can’t handle it.”

“She can!” Namjoon grunts as he finally rubs your pain buzzed ass. A shaky whine escapes you and tickles Taehyung’s ear. “You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, digging his nails into your flesh.

You whine in agreement. It’s not enough. He needs to hear you say- scream it. Grabbing a handful of your hair, he peels you off Taehyung enough for him to get a good look at your face. He folds his hands under his head, smirking at the sight of you so shattered by pleasure of being in pain. Face flushed, wet, cum stained and eyes innocent, your features fold in raptured anguish.

Namjoon roughly kneads your right cheek while pressing the length of his cock against it. “Can you take the fucking like a good girl?” He mockingly coos. It juts a chorus of shivers down your spine.

You squeeze tight around Taehyung at the thought. He rasps your name. Namjoon growls lowly, rubbing himself against you as he warns, “You’re not gonna make me ask you a third time, are you?”

Taehyung shifts his hips, cinching your breath at your throat from the stroke of friction. Why did he have to be so big, so pretty and hot staring at you like that? Why’d you have to go tempting gods you know you can’t keep up with? You regret angering Namjoon, realizing that jealousy is the worst power trip you can feed a god. They both want to watch you fall apart, crumble into a pile of bones. Tears spill at the thought, pussy aching around a cock too big to adjust to. Every nerve feels so sensitive, so overused, yet you need to cum again.

No. You can’t take it. But, you’ll be damned if you tell either of them that. And as Namjoon lays another sharp smack on your cheeks, tingling with pain, you circle your hips around Taehyung’s and cry out a broken, breathy and utterly desperate, “Y-es!”

Taehyung grips onto your hips, pulling you half out. You expect to be plunged onto his cock with a new degree of force, but find another one attempting to squeeze in as well. Namjoon’s monster cock pushing into your pussy alongside Taehyung’s. Your jaw drops, eyes roll back as that viciously delicious stretch strangles your soul with bliss. He enters you slow, but sharp, knowing full well that the both of them cannot fit.

Neither cares. Both gods create a quickly speeding rhythm of thrusts into you. Body jolting forwards, breasts shaking over Taehyung’s face and ass bouncing against Namjoon’s hips. He hunches over you to groan your name in your ear, voice husky with lust and dominance. He repeats the word like a prayer. Every syllable drips slow out of his lips like thick molasses when his voice reaches such depth.

You try to lean back into him, but Taehyung keeps you in place with the tight grip on your hips. “Stay still,” he grunts against your nipple. Then, he sucks on it, teasing the little nub between his teeth.

You moan a little too loud at Taehyung’s ministrations for Namjoon’s liking. Both hands locked on your ass, Namjoon pushing your cheek up and against Taehyung. You lose whatever balance you had weighted on your arms, falling flat against the sun god with a squeal. His cock fully plugs into you and when he tries to thrust up against you once more, Namjoon growls, “Both of you stay still.”

A shiver tickles your spine with the wind. As Taehyung kisses your neck, you attempt to sneak a peek at your boyfriend over your shoulder and push your ass back into him. He’s sweaty and huffing. The peachy sunset behind him halos around his muscular frame. He’s so pretty when he’s mad, all those veins lacing his inked skin like little spider webs. His gaze finds yours, that annoyed look intensifying in his eyes when you wink at him.

And though it was completely innocent, it still switches something off in Namjoon. He shifts his tight grip on your ass to the small of your back then, all at once, presses down onto it with the entirety of his strength. A series of loud cracks elicit from your spine like the fire of a gun at the start of a race. And away go his hips as he rams in and out of your too full pussy.

Screams and sudden sobs pour out of you and onto Taehyung as the both of you get shaken by Namjoon’s force. You know your back isn’t broken, blown out maybe, but definitely not broken. You just didn’t think this would be the result of his jealousy and anger. Did he think you were mocking him with that wink, with Taehyung? Perhaps some mocking did occur with Taehyung around, but he’s always liked your snarkier side. He tells you to behave because he knows you won’t and adores it when you don’t. But, maybe you did take it too far, and give into Taehyung too much. You really wish you can say, with all this overstimulating and teasing and taunting, that you regret it all.

Only, you don’t.

Clutching tighter onto Taehyung’s shoulders, your tears fall as freely as your broken moans. Namjoon smacks his hips over your ass, pounding your pussy like it’s just you two here. It’s not as though Taehyung is lying under you, obsessing over how tight you are and just how amazing you smell.

“You know why he’s so mad right,” he questions quietly, voice strained. When you shake your head, he chuckles and whispers, “Because he knows how much better I make you feel.”

The whimper that leaves you was by no means a response to whatever Taehyung was going on about. Though he gives it to you great, he doesn’t compare to your boyfriend. You suppose Namjoon knows this too, somewhere within that deep connection you two share. Still, he holds you further down against Taehyung, practically melding your body into his, and thrusts at an ungodly speed just as he did when he caught you sucking Taehyung’s cock.

You’re not sure either of them understand the load of pleasure they are washing over you. Taehyung has his giant cock stationed in your pussy with his tip pressing continuously against your g-spot as Namjoon’s monstrous cock jabs at it again and again.

Body trembling, voice broken, you squeal, “I’m- ahhgh I’m gon-na cuu-uum.”

“Me too,” Taehyung husks in your ear. It has you clenching tighter.

Namjoon scoffs through a moan. “No, you’re fucking not.”

“But, Joon-”

A harsh smack against your ass silences your protests. “You know what to do when you’re close,” he grunts.

Yes, you do. But there isn’t much time to beg. You have two huge cocks in you and if he thinks he can coax some sort of plea-

“Fuck,” you cry as he spanks you again.

“ASK!” he roars, hands on your back just to make it crack all over again.

Drooling, whimpering, eyes rolling, you somehow find it in you to hold back your orgasm long enough to beg, “Please, fuck, just let me cum! Please, please, Namjoon!”

“Just fucking let her cum,” Taehyung grunts.

Namjoon snakes one of his hands up your spine, hips still ramming into you all the same, and latching onto your hair. Slowly, he peels you off of Taehyung and holds you against his chest. You screw your eyes shut in an attempt not to cream both their cocks.

With his lips at your ear, he whispers, “Look down at him.” After forcing your eyes open and down at Taehyung, who looks all too pleased with your ruined state, Namjoon orders, “Thank him for a good time.”

Panting, lips a spitty mess, you whimper, “Thank you for a good time.”

Taehyung rubs your thighs. “She’s just as fun when she’s a good girl,” he hisses to himself.

Namjoon chuckles, wrapping his free hand around your throat. “You’re my best girl either way,” he whispers to you. The praise makes you shiver, your orgasm almost slipping right out of your control.

“Please let me cum now,” you cry. “Please, I need it.”

Taking a deep breath of your scent, Namjoon peppers little kisses along your jawline. “Shall we all cum together?” he asks before nodding to Taehyung. The sun god’s hips jolt back to act and soon each one is back to taking turns to smash your already too sensitive spot.

You nod energetically. Truthfully, you don’t care if either one of them cums, just as long as they let you do it now.

Taehyung shifts one of his hands further up your hips, his thumb working fast and small circles over your clit. You’re quaking, head thrown back against Namjoon’s shoulders, eyes rolling and screwed shut when Namjoon orders you to look at him. You force them open enough to watch a wicked swirl of power and lust gleam in his eyes. With a single breath, lips hovering over yours, he whispers, “Cum.”

Your vision spots black before failing all together as an extreme dose of ecstasy floods your senses. Their growls collide with your breathless screams in a cacophony of pleasure with each shot of cum they fill you with. And you return the favour, coating each cock with more cum than you think you’ve ever offered. In and out, they still go, desperate to leave you dripping with the impression of both of them for days.

Namjoon spits in your mouth a bit and chuckles quietly when you still find it in you to swallow it. “You just had to be a fucking brat, hmm?” he groans as both his and Taehyung’s thrusts slow down. “Are you satisfied now?”

You hear his words and think that maybe you are processing them, but you really can’t find enough of your voice or energy to respond. Heaving, you know your body gave out well before he even got you in this position and blew your back out. You don’t even realize that you’re slobbering all over yourself until Namjoon licks it all away. Only little whimpers and whines manage to reply to him. It only strengthens that power blown look in his eyes.

Taehyung suddenly pulls himself out of you. Or rather, Namjoon pulls you up and off his cock. Then, he stands up on his knees and presses a soft kiss to your mouth, despite Namjoon’s annoyed groan. “And thank you for such a great evening, my-”

“She’s not yours!”

You watch through somewhat blurry vision as the two gods glare at each other. Taehyung then glances over at the fig vines laced around the orange tree. With a smirk, he nods. His hands fondle your breast one more time before he grabs what little clothes he came with. Then, with the sun, he’s gone.

Basking in the glow of the moon, Namjoon slowly pulls out of you. His touches are now all too gentle to even register, or maybe your skin is simply still on fire from such a rough fucking. Either way, he’s careful in how he handles you now. Cradling you to his chest, he helps you lay down. He kisses your forehead and mutters, “Take a deep breath.”

You do so. Again and again. When you’re breathing somewhat regulates, your mind finally catches up with where you are now. Resting in Namjoon’s arms, his silk skirt draped over your body like a blanket, you gaze up at the stars.

“He planted figs,” Namjoon mutters.

You shift against his chest before shrugging. “He did.” You’re not sure why that simple detail seems to tick him off so much. They’re just figs.

“Do you still like oranges though?”

It suddenly clicks in your head. His anger translating into worry. Does he really think that you’d give him up for Taehyung? He should know you well enough to know he’s your world. And if you weren’t so sore or weak, you would have gotten up and picked the ripest orange and shared it with him. Instead, you turn in his lap, suppressing the urge to hiss at the sparks of pain running up and down your back, and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love oranges.”

He fights off a smile, but relief reflects in his gaze. “I’m sure they love you too,” he mutters like he hasn’t told you so before.

It all doesn’t matter too much anyways. He’s yours and you’re his. No other god, no matter how many times they stop by, will change that. This is, after all, your orange tree.

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

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Acts of Devotion

👀 i um 👉 👈 i hope this is okay...

Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

TW blood, gore, violence, murder, dub con, nsfw

Akaashi loves you.

He’s known that for a long time now, probably from the very first moment he laid eyes on you, back when you were both just wide eyed first year uni students, wildly out of your depths.

A lot’s changed since then. For one, he now gets to call you his, and it’s his arms that you return to at the end of a long day, his house that you both live in. It’d be a lie to say that it doesn’t bother him that he wasn’t your first love, but he’s contented himself with the knowledge that he’ll be your last. Your only great love.

The only one that matters.

But it hasn’t been without its challenges. He’s learned a lot about love since those early days, about what it means to truly devote yourself to somebody, to give everything you have for them.

Love essentially boils down to two things, Akaashi’s come to realise - sacrifice, and forgiveness.

You always look so beautiful when you’re sleeping. Of course, Akaashi thinks you’re beautiful all the time; when you’re smiling and laughing, when your face is screwed up in petulant anger, when those pretty eyes of yours well with tears and they glimmer and shine - but there’s something about the peaceful expression, so soft and unguarded when you’re asleep that inexplicably draws him in.

There’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to stay, to reach out and brush away the hair that’s fallen across your face, pull you closer and let sleep drag him under, but he can’t.

Not tonight.

Instead he cranes his neck to press a kiss against your lips, a small smile tugging at his lips when you let out a quiet mewl in response. He loves you so, so much… that’s why he has to do this.

He’d forgive you anything. You know that, don’t you?

Sure, it hurt him when he found the messages. Scrolling back through your text history, it was like somebody had grabbed him by the throat and plunged a knife into his gut, twisting it for good measure.

Kaito i don’t know what to do

i love him but lately it feels like idk he’s being a little controlling i guess?

… but maybe i’m just being paranoid?

He knows it’s not entirely your fault. For all the amazing qualities you possess, you are remarkably naive and so very, very impressionable - which worked to his favour in the beginning, he’ll be the first to admit, but now…

Now it’s becoming a problem.

You haven’t realised yet that everything Akaashi’s doing - it’s all for your own good.

Your family wanted you under their thumb. They always asked too much of you, guilt tripped you whenever you tried to stand up for yourself or set boundaries. They’d never be happy for you, not truly. It hurts, he knows that, but some people don’t deserve to be in your life, especially when they treat you like that.

Your job was causing you stress, and your boss was an arrogant, nasty piece of work. His salary is more than enough to support you both, why put yourself through that if you don’t need to? Aren’t you happier now that you don’t have to trudge into that office every day and pretend that it isn’t making you miserable?

Your friends were bad influences. Jealous of your relationship for one, but they were also petty, self absorbed and vapid, always trying to drag you down to their level so you wouldn’t ever outshine them. You’re better off without them, why can’t you see that?

Akaashi’s the only one you’ll ever need.

And he really thought that he’d solved that little problem, but apparently not. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that out of all of them, Kaito’s the one who’s been the hardest to shake. An old friend of yours from high school, Akaashi had known within five minutes of meeting him that he was head over heels in love with you and had been for a long, long time.

He can’t blame him for that. You’re beautiful. Perfect. Entirely his. It’s painfully obvious that even before he came into the picture to sweep you off your feet, you’d never so much as looked twice at the guy. So Akaashi was more or less content to let his somewhat pitiful one sided crush on you slide. Considering that he had absolutely no intentions of letting him or any of your other friends remain part of your life for much longer, it was hardly worth wasting energy thinking about.

Until, that is, he read the messages that Kaito’s been sending you.

Leave him

I’m serious.

My sister had a friend who was with a guy like that. She had to get a restraining order because he wouldn’t let her go - it got scary… You can come stay with me. I don’t want you getting hurt :(

It’s that last one that bothers him. Not the attempts to lure you away from him under the guise of being a safe haven from your ‘dangerous’ boyfriend, painting himself as your knight in shining armour - mildly irritating if not a little amusing - but for putting the idea in your head that Akaashi would ever hurt you.

That he can’t forgive.

He won’t have you look at him with fear in your eyes.

Akaashi’s never tried to deny that side of himself, but he’s kept it from you, locked it away and buried it deep. The things he does… you’re too pure for that. He loves you, loves the way that your eyes still soften when you catch sight of him, the warm, trusting naivety that bleeds out of your every pore. If you knew what the hands that caressed you so gently had done, would you still beg for his touch?

You wouldn’t, he knows that just as he knows that even if you were to uncover the truth, he wouldn’t let you go. He can’t, you’re his.

Is it really so selfish of him to want to preserve that innocent naivety?

But it seems like now he’ll have to indulge once again, and Akaashi, really, truly can’t say that it bothers him. Killing other people has always thrilled him, made the blood in his veins race… Killing other people for you, oh, that’s going to be a whole other level of pleasure he can’t wait to explore.

The pads of his fingers trace the curve of your jaw for just a moment. “Back soon,” he whispers, gracing your cheek with a feather light kiss.

You’ve never asked why the door to the basement locks from both sides, he doesn’t even think you realise that the walls are soundproofed. Tonight he’s grateful. You won’t wake up, he’s almost positive of that, but Akaashi has no desire to be gone from your side for any longer than absolutely necessary.

He usually prefers to take his time.

His first kill was more of an accident than anything else, there was too much blood, he panicked and it was over in the blink of an eye. There wasn’t time to savour it, to really enjoy the sight of the light leaving their eyes, the weak, desperate struggles and whimpers, the tantalising fear that inevitably bleeds into the air, growing more potent by the second - even the strongest break eventually. He’s learned since then how to draw it out, how to have fun with his work.

But he doesn’t have that luxury tonight, and, as he keeps having to remind himself, this isn’t about his pleasure.

Guns are quick. Messy. Akaashi’s never really taken a liking to the crude, graceless weapon. He prefers his knives.

Waving a gun in somebody’s face gives them the idea that they’re going to die, and there are only so many times that you can shoot somebody before they just… bleed out. It’s not nearly as satisfying a death. A knife, on the other hand, brings with it more opportunities. It isn’t death that his victim becomes worried about, at least not initially, but pain. And as his hand glides over his collection, Akaashi decides that Kaito is due for a little pain.

I love him, you’d texted. I love him. I love him. I love him.

That’s what he’s trying to protect.

Long, pale fingers wrap around the handle of his chef’s knife, (eight inches, sharp - a familiar, comforting weight in his hand) and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

Kaito’s mouth is taped shut. Akaashi doesn’t want to hear a filthy word out of those lips. His hands are bound behind his back, his ankles tied to the old, wooden chair. He’s good with his knots, the more Kaito struggles, the tighter they pull. And judging from the ugly, purpling shade of his hands and the tears leaking from bloodshot eyes, he’s been struggling for a while.

Good.

Akaashi smiles as he strolls towards his captive audience, fingering the straight edge of the knife. Kaito doesn’t try to speak, but the muffled whines and sobs grow louder with every step closed between them. The fear and tension in the air is palpable.

His breath is little more than a frantic wheezing by the time Akaashi stops in front of him and drops into a crouch. Cool, gunmetal blue eyes meet Kaito’s deep brown ones, blown wide with terror.

“I’m not the monster you think I am,” he admits quietly.

Looking up at him from beneath long, dark lashes, a faint smile on his lips, Akaashi could almost pass for an angel if not for the gleaming kitchen knife in his hand. Kaito pales, his entire body going taut as his gaze slides from Akaashi’s face to the gleaming blade in his hand. He shakes his head in desperation, another muffled scream escaping his gag-

Akaashi strikes fast, like a viper. The blade plunges into the meat of Kaito’s thigh and without an ounce of mercy, Akaashi yanks it back towards his knee.

The scream that rips through the air sends a pleasurable shiver of warmth down his spine, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he feels the muscles beneath him convulse. The gash isn’t too long, maybe a few inches, but it’s deep and Akaashi’s smirk only grows as warm blood gushes from the wound, coating his hand in slick vermilion.

He tugs the knife free, rewarded with another choked howl from his captive as more blood sprays. Bound to the chair, there’s not a whole lot of room for Kaito to move, but it’s somewhat amusing to watch him try to thrash, escape the white hot agony radiating from his thigh through his entire body. It’s hard for the human body to comprehend that level of pain, and from experience, Akaashi’s well aware that it won’t take long for his body to go into shock and simply shut down from the blood loss, and once that happens, he won’t be of much use to anyone.

Kaito’s trembling, face pale, his skin clammy. Impossibly black pupils swallow his irises whole, erratically tracking his captor’s every movement as Akaashi pushes himself to his feet and takes a moment to study him. Tears and bubbles of snot leak in a disgusting mix down his jaw, dripping onto his lap as he sobs against his bindings. It’s pitiful, seeing a man reduced to a whimpering, terrified wreck, but as the hand still holding his knife grips at his chin and yanks his face closer, Akaashi can’t help but gleefully drink it all in.

Your would be knight in shining armour doesn’t look quite so strong and capable now, does he?

Akaashi doesn’t have much time left to make him suffer, but he can’t seem to resist trailing his fingers along Kaito’s injured leg, digging them deep into the ruined muscle - grinning wildly when he convulses and screams, arching up off the chair.

There’s still so much that he’d like to do. He toys with the idea of taking his tongue, of carving his knife deep into his skin just to watch him whimper and bleed… but no. This isn’t about indulgence. This is about you. He has to have more discipline than that.

Dangling on the edge of consciousness, Kaito meets his gaze one last time. Maybe he senses that his death is close, or maybe he’s just searching for a last minute reprieve, mercy from the cold blooded killer before him. Terrified, agonised, delirious from the blood loss, he tries to speak - a plea, he thinks, or maybe just incomprehensible babbling, but his eyes burn into Akaashi’s, desperate and hollow.

Akaashi’s never been one for theatrics. He won’t waste more time monologuing while your friend clings to the last vestiges of life. If Kaito hasn’t guessed by now the reasons he’s ended up here, at Akaashi’s mercy, he’s far less intelligent than he gave him credit for, but he supposes that he owes him something, at least.

“I love her,” he says with a small shrug, as if it explains everything.

And maybe it does.

It hardly matters though, as Akaashi decides to finally end it with a vicious slice across his throat. Blood sprays like a fountain, splattering across the room and drenching him, Kaito’s body slumps in his seat, the last flicker of life slowly snuffing out, and Akaashi revels in the pure, sweet euphoria that floods his system.

He’s never killed anybody while you were home with him before. Normally he’s methodical, quick to clean up whatever mess is left behind. Tonight though, Akaashi doesn’t have the patience for all that.

He should at least take a shower, rid himself of the blood that soaked him to the skin, but the call of your arms, the sweet, soft floral scent he longs to drown himself in beckoning is too hard to resist. He sheds his clothes, casting them aside haphazardly along with the bloody knife as he stalks down the hallway to the bedroom. His heart is still racing, excitement drumming through his veins as he crawls onto the bed and slides the covers off of you.

Dimly, he registers that this is a monumentally bad idea, but all he can think about is the vivid memory of the light leaving Kaito’s eyes and you. Tonight, he killed for you, and it was exhilarating.

He doesn’t think he could stop himself even if he wanted to, and why would he want to?

You’re perfect, beautiful - his. Nothing and nobody will ever be able to separate the two of you, he’ll kill anybody who tries.

You stir a little as Akaashi’s lips graze along your skin, his fingers sliding the silk of your nightgown up over your hips.

“‘Kaashi?” you sleepily murmur, trying to blink heavy eyelids open.

He wonders if you can feel the way his bloodstained hands are trembling as they ease your supple thighs apart. “Shh, baby,” he presses a kiss against your leg as he manoeuvres himself between them, “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”

Let me take care of you.

He needs this.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere akaashi x reader #yandere akaashi #yandere akaashi keiji #yandere akaashi keiji x reader #tw blood #tw violence #tw murder #slasher-ish vibes #tw dub con #just a little #not super proof read because it's 3:30 in the morning

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august-bleeds-red · 4 years ago

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Texas Heat (Part Two)

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Warnings: implied non-con, gore. NSFW in later chapters.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Dinner that night is stew.

You help Luda cut the vegetables, but the meat is already simmering in the pot by the time you come down. Thomas is nowhere to be seen, and when you ask where he is, as casually as possible, Luda answers with a sly grin.

“Oh, he’s probably workin’ down in the basement. Often doesn’t eat ‘til later, ‘specially when we have guests. He’s awful shy, you see.”

You don’t mention the way he’d stared at you upstairs – more domineering and intense than anyone else you’d have described as “shy”.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking—” you begin to say, but she’s already nodding, clearly anticipating your next words.

“His face?”

You nod. Setting down the knife she’s using to slice the carrots, she adjusts her spectacles and glances towards the door you presume leads to the basement.

“He’s awful sensitive about it. We don’t usually talk about it, but I don’t want you to be makin’ any nasty judgements ‘bout him.”

“Of course not, I wouldn’t.”

She pats your arm and continues chopping the carrots. “I found him when he was just born. Some cruel no-goods had left him to die in a trash can. Lord knows what filthy things he was exposed to in there before I took him home. He started gettin’ skin complaints when he was a boy. Real bad. The other kids used to tease him for it, call him ‘diseased’. Got too much for him so he took a knife and . . .” She presses the tips of her fingers to her mouth and shakes her head. “Sorry, still gets to me.”

“I understand,” you say, your heart aching empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

She pats your arm again and sighs, “You’re a good girl, Y/N.”

For some reason, she says this with a note of sadness which makes you uneasy again. You don’t have long to dwell on it, though, before Hoyt enters the room.

“How’s that stew comin’ on, Momma?” he asks jovially.

You help set the table and bow your head respectfully while Hoyt says Grace, accepting your bowl of stew with a grateful smile. The meat is tender, with an unusual flavour you can’t quite place. You figure it must be some kind of game animal you’ve not tasted before, or herbs mixed in with the broth. It’s good, whatever it is. You help yourself to the cornbread Luda offers you and try not to be disconcerted by the way Monty is staring at you.

He’s just a dirty old man, you try and convince yourself. Ignore him.

Though it’s not that late by the time your plate is cleared, you claim tiredness and go upstairs to your tiny room. Closing the door behind you, you wish there was some kind of furniture you could prop against it; the chest of drawers is far too heavy for you to move inconspicuously. You don’t feel quite comfortable enough to change into the camisole you usually wear for sleeping, so decide to remain in your shorts and T-shirt. One night won’t hurt. You brush your teeth in the tiny sink, making a mental note to rinse your toothbrush with clean water before using it again, and curl up on top of the blanket. The air is thick and humid, and you’re soon wishing you could just sleep naked. Your own scent hangs heavy in the air and you curse your time of the month. Even with the precautions prescribed to you, your heat was always strong, but it never has this much of a toll on you. You remember your first – you were ten, an early bloomer, and it had hit you at summer camp. It was the height of August, and the counsellors had found you whimpering in a corner of the dorm, hugging a pillow and grinding frantically against it.

That was the last time you went to camp.

Could it be because of Thomas? Is that why your body is reacting so strongly?

Growling in frustration, you reach for your bag and grope inside for your pills. The doctors only advise taking three pills in a single day under extreme circumstances, but being under the same roof as an alpha as intimidating as Thomas Hewitt strikes you as pretty damn extreme. It takes you almost three whole minutes to realise the awful truth – the pills aren’t there. You know you put them back in the inside pocket earlier, the same place you always do. They’re definitely gone.

Your heart starts pounding and you feel that prickling sense of danger creep over you again. It would have been easy for Hoyt, Monty, or even Thomas to come in here and take the pills while you were downstairs helping Luda. Which means they know. Perhaps you were kidding yourself that you could lie to them.

You decide not to take any chances. Even without your car, there was no way you could stay here. Your parents would understand. Perhaps you could even call the cops when you got to the next town and ask them to fetch it for you. Gathering your belongings as quietly as possible, you open the door just a crack and peer out down the darkened hallway. All is still. You manage to make no sound all the way to the top of the stairs, taking care not to step in the centre of each step as you tiptoe down.

You’re almost at the door when you hear it – a low, keening moan.

You turn glacially slowly to look at the basement door. You could kid yourself that it was a dog, but you know in your bones that’s not the case.

“Please . . .” the voice calls plaintively. A girl. “Help me . . .”

Fear washes over you like a bucket of ice water. You should go – you know you should go. The door is right in front of you.

“Pleeeeease . . .” the voice sobs.

Your parents’ faces swim before your eyes. You think of what they’d suffer were you to never come home. You brother, your sister, your friends . . .

“Oh God, help me . . .”

“God damn it,” you whisper through gritted teeth. With a quick glance upstairs, you tread as light as a spider down the corridor towards the basement. The girl’s voice gets louder – it’s definitely coming from down there. The door is unlocked when you twist the handle, pulling it towards you just enough to slip inside and down the rickety steps beyond. A large pool of water is gathered at the foot of the stairs, too large for you to avoid. You wince as the damp soaks through your sneakers and socks.

Two large hunks of meat are hanging from hooks along the wall. You think they may have once been pigs, though the head and limbs are all hacked away. You find the girl – a petite blonde in a short blue dress – on a filthy mattress, roped to a pipe in one corner of the room. She looks as though she’s been there for days, weeks, even. Her skin is bruised, and you can tell by her frightened scent that she’s a beta. You can also smell Hoyt’s potent musk on her – in her hair, in the smears of congealed fluid between her legs.

She smells you before she sees you, eyes searching disbelievingly in the half-dark. You quickly stifle her mouth with your hand before she cries out.

“Keep quiet, okay?” you hiss. You pick at the tightly-knotted rope, breaking a fingernail in your attempt to untie it. “Fuck.”

“Oh God,” she gasps.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m gonna—”

“NO!” she screams, her body falling into a fit of panicked flailing. Her eyes are big and brimming with fear, staring over your shoulder.

The scent reaches you just before Thomas’s fingers do.

You duck and back away from the captured girl, who continues screaming like she’s being sliced apart. Every nerve in your body is yelling at you to flee, to fight, to do anything besides what you are doing – which is staring like a deer in headlights up at Thomas approaching you. His scent is almost overpowering, and despite the terror seizing you, you feel a warm stream of slick trickling down the inside of your thigh.

He gives a sharp intake of breath and rumbles deep in his chest. Your knees tremble, and you unconsciously breathe in the heady aroma surrounding the enormous man. Your breath shudders as it leaves you. Your instincts are commanding you to stay, to submit, to give yourself to this alpha; you can already feel your body leaning into him.

The basement door slams open and Hoyt’s angry voice preceeds his heavy footsteps.

“Nuff of this dang caterwauling, some of us’re tryin’ to sleep!”

He stops dead at the wall of scent surrounding you, and a sly grin takes over his rugged features. “Well, lookee here.”

Reaching inside his pocket, he pulls out a small foil strip that you recognise instantly.

“Guess somebody’s not just a plain ole beta after all, huh?”

“You asshole,” you spit, your disdain for Hoyt overriding your lust for just a moment.

“That’s not very polite now, is it?” he says. He moves casually towards the whimpering blonde, who stares in terrified anticipation up at him. He reaches down and strokes her hair, and she cringes away from his touch. “Tommy, why don’t you teach this little bitch a lesson in manners?”

Thomas takes two short strides towards you, but you dart out from under his grasp and sprint towards the stairs. The girl you’re abandoning screams after you, but all you can think of now is to escape, battling the nagging tug at the back of your mind that’s still desperately reaching out for Thomas.

You somehow make it up the steps and through the door, your footsteps crashing on the boards as you fly down the hall. You throw your entire weight against the front door, splintering the wood surrounding the lock as you burst out into the night.

You breathe in lungfuls of air as you sprint across the field, heading for the road. You’ve never been a fast runner, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins has you practically leaping like a gazelle. Your feet catch on stones and loose earth, threatening you with a fall, but you just manage to keep your balance. The sound of pounding footsteps behind you sends a sharp spike of fear into your gut, and if you weren’t running you may have vomited.

You vaguely recognise another sound – a deep, mechanical roar – but you don’t want to risk glancing over your shoulder to see if it is what you think. He’s getting closer, you can smell him, you can hear his laboured breathing, you can feel his fingers grasping at your hair—

He overshoots you by a good ten strides when you fall to the ground, scraping your hands and knees on hard soil. Turning to face your supine form, he brandishes the growling chainsaw clutched in his massive hands.

You’re dead. You must be. How can you possibly expect any other outcome from this situation? Scrambling to your knees, you try to rise, but the metal teeth of the chainsaw brush too close; you can almost taste your own blood. Thomas’s eyes, black with rage, focus on you. His chest is heaving, his muscular arms flexing as he prepares to deal the killing blow—

“Alpha!” you shriek, the word spilling from your tongue before you can recognise its meaning. “Alpha, please!”

He freezes, arms aloft, staring down at you in surprise and disbelief.

You crawl forwards, reaching out a shaking hand to touch his booted foot. “Please . . . p-please don’t kill me.”

He glances up towards the house. You can tell he’s not used to making decisions without approval, but Hoyt isn’t here to spit poison in his ear.

“I’ll . . . I’ll be yours.” You can’t believe the words you’re saying. “Please, alpha . . . you can have me. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t kill me.”

He steps back and shakes his head angrily, but not in refusal – more like he’s trying to rid your honeyed words from his head as a bull might dislodge a persistent fly. Taking your life in your hands, you slowly rise to your feet and proffer your sweating hands towards him; the scent from your wrists glands is strong, unavoidable. The chainsaw powers down, and his arms slowly fall to waist-height. You take careful hold of one wrist and detach his fingers from the chainsaw handle. Keeping your gaze locked with his, you part your dry lips and press the flat of your tongue against his own wrist, licking a long, slow stripe. His skin is salty with sweat, the musk beneath deep and earthy, hitting the back of your throat like spice. You feel a shudder pass through his body and go one step further – baring your teeth just enough to nip the tender, swollen skin. The chainsaw falls heavily to the ground as he grabs you, one hand twisting the skin of your wrist, the other securing the back of your neck, fingers knotted in your hair. You stare up at him, heart dancing, skin tingling, fear and lust seeking dominance in your stomach. His teeth are bared behind the gap in his mask, his brow furrowed in bewildered rage and desire. You lift the hand still free from his grip and, as tenderly as though handling a baby sparrow, touch the gland at the nape of his neck. The skin is raised and warm, and his eyes close almost in reverence at the contact.

“What in Lord’s name’re you doin’, boy?!” Hoyt’s furious voice startles you both. He’s hurrying up behind you, shotgun under one arm, glaring between you and Thomas.

In a swift, one-handed movement, Thomas pulls you flush against his body, your nose filling with the metallic scent of blood imbedded in his apron – which, it occurs to you, is undoubtedly human blood.

Hoyt stops in his tracks, assessing the situation before him. You, pliant and submissive in Thomas’s arms; Thomas, dominant and possessive, ready to protect you from the threat Hoyt poses. The older man sighs, chuckling softly.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Swinging the shotgun to rest on his shoulder, he shakes his grizzled head. “Y’sure, Tommy? She’d taste mighty sweet with Mama’s hot biscuits.”

Thomas’s grip tightens and you whimper – he’s about to break your wrist. His fingers immediately loosen, and you see a flash of what could almost be called concern cross his face. Hoyt rolls his eyes and turns, heading back towards the farmhouse.

“Come on, then.”

Before you can protest, Thomas sweeps you up into a bridal embrace, pressing your body against his broad chest. Tears prick your eyes as you’re brought back to the place you fought so hard to escape from. As you’re carried over the threshold, Hoyt shoots you a nasty grin.

“Welcome to the family, Little Miss Omega.”

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.

#thomas hewitt #tommy hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers #slasher lover #slasher fandom #slasher community #the texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #tcm the beginning #the texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #slasher fic

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anais-mitchell · 4 years ago

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a comprehensive list of every never before seen hadestown lyric revealed in “working on a song”

Note: This list will not include any lyrics from the OBCR, Broadway previews documented in audios, the London run, the Edmonton run, or the NYTW run. Only lyrics that Anaïs has never revealed before. Also, I strongly recommend everyone actually read the book and support Anaïs! It has amazing insights into the show we love.

(Also, any ellipses mean the song just goes into the lyrics we already know)

Wedding Song

In early Vermont productions, Wedding Song did not exist; there was another duet called Everything Written.

Fates: Seven Sisters / Little Dipper / Great Bear, Hunter / Drinking Gourd / Libra, Leo / Pisces, Pluto / Venus, Virgo / Capricorn

Eurydice: Don’t it make, don’t it make you feel so small? / Orpheus, when you look up at it all? / When I look into the skies / I lose my head for scale and size / And still you’re larger in my eyes / Than any star / You pull on me like gravity / I want to be where you are

They say that everything is written / Everything written in those stars / The very lives we’re living / The very love in our hearts

Orpheus: Who could write, who could write this kind if love? / From such a height, all these light-years up above? / And all these light-years down below / I don’t need any star to show me / What my heart already knows / Eurydice / You pull on me like gravity / I want to be where you are

Eurydice: Come here

Orpheus: I’m here

Eurydice: It’s so cold

Orpheus: So clear

Eurydice: It’s so dark

Orpheus: So fair

Eurydice: Come near

Orpheus: I’m here

Eurydice: You’re there

A workshop version of Wedding Song included this exchange:

Eurydice: You have a way with words don’t you? It’s too bad none of them are true

Orpheus: It’s not a lie- It’s poetry

Eurydice: How many mouths does a poem feed?

Epic I

From 2007 Vermont:

Orpheus: King of diamonds, king of spades! / First there was Hades, king of the dirt / Miners of mines, diggers of graves / They bowed down to Hades who gave them work / And they bowed down to Hades who made them sweat / Who paid them their wages and set them about / Digging and dredging and dragging the depths / Of the Earth to turn its insides out / Singing la la la la la la la...

Then came Persephone, Hades’s wife / Our Lady of Shadows and Meadows entwined / Made to spend half of the days of her life / Right alongside of him down in the mine / But the other half she could walk in the sun / And the sun in turn burned half as bright / Which is where the seasons come from / And with them the cycle / Of the seed and the sickle / And the lives of the people / And the birds in their flight / Singing la la la la la la la...

So it was and it might have stayed / And the sun came up and the sun went down / A circle of fourths, a perfect cadence / The serpent’s tail in the serpent’s mouth / But the strong will take what they want to take / And the weak can only tell the tale / And the king began to lay his heavy hand upon the scale / What did he want? He wanted Our Lady / To have and to hold, not half, but wholly / To love him and never to leave him again / And as for the seasons, to hell with them! / And the earth warmed over in the dead of winter / The stillborn spring lay cold beneath / Summer gave a stormy sermon / Autumn walked in the wake with a wreath / And the people moved like weather patterns / Looking for shelter, looking for warmth / Helter-skelter the four winds scattered / The scavengers over the ravaged earth / Singing la la la la la la la...

From a workshop, presumably pre-London:

Hermes: Orpheus was a poor boy / But he had a gift to give / There was one song he’d been working on / He could never seem to finish / A song about this broken world / That he rewrote again and again / As though if he could find the words / He could fix the world with them

Livin’ It Up On Top

From pre-NYTW workshops:

Persephone: A hundred sunny summer days / Till my lover comes to find me / A hundred blooming olive trees / And a hundred grapevines climbing / Singing songs when the sun goes down / Light the fire in the darkness / Brother, pass that bottle around / And we’ll raise a glass to the harvest, it’s / Just enough fruit for the pressing / Just enough wine to fill our cups / But what we have is a blessing / It isn’t much but it’s enough

Eurydice: A hundred starry summer nights / Since my lover came and found me / Picking fruit and hopping freights / With his music all around me / Stay up late making love / All the stars are naked / Talking sweet and sleeping rough / Our bed is where we make it, there’s / Just enough fruit for the pressing...

Way Down Hadestown

From when Anaïs was 21, long before the show was even a concept:

Follow that dollar for a long way down / Far away from the poorhouse door / You either get to hell or a border town / Ain’t no difference anymore...

Suckin’ on the gristle and chewin’ on the bone / Thinkin’ ‘bout missiles and the old Dow Jones / All alone on your chromium throne /And lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely...

From 2006:

Persephone: Though I’m happy at his side / He’s not an easy man to love / I used to keep him satisfied / But lately he can’t get enough / Never enough of the mine and the mill / Never enough of his working girls / Never enough of the wall he’s building / All around the underworld / Way down Hadestown...

Orpheus: Mr. Hades is slick as an eel / Fountain pen, crocodile shoes / Quick as a snake, and he’s hot on your heels / He’ll make you an offer that you can’t refuse! / Way down Hadestown...

Hermes: Speak of the devil and the devil comes / Here comes Mister Hades now / To gather up his chosen ones / And bring ‘em down to Hadestown / Way down Hadestown...

From 2007:

Hermes: Make room, make room for Hermes, sir! / Make a little room for Hermes, ma’am / They call me a messenger / But that ain’t half of who I am

I’m a man of influence / I’m connected up and down / And I got all the documents / You need to get to Hadestown / Way down Hadestown...

Tired of walking in your worn-out shoes? / Tired of running on nothing at all? / Tired of standing your bets to lose? / Tired of losing? Give me a call, we’ll go... / Way down Hadestown...

Orpheus: Mister Hades got an iron fist / Step outta line and he’ll have your head / In the blink of an eye, with a flick of the wrist

Hermes: Hang around here and starve instead!

Orpheus: It’s a cattle pen!

Hermes: It’s a feeding trough!

Orpheus: He’ll fatten you up just to cut you down! / I’d rather starve

Hermes: I’d rather stuff my pockets down in Hadestown! / Way down Hadestown...

Hey, Little Songbird

Anaïs says she tried out this line in 2017 to include a more explicit “job offer” in the wake of the MeToo movement:

Hades: Hey, little songbird, gimme a song / I’m a busy man, and I can’t stay long / I’ve got clients to call, I’ve got orders to fill / I’ve got millions of souls on my payroll, but hell / I could fit you as well if you wanted

When the Chips are Down

From Vermont, 2006:

Fates: Cross my palm! Grease my chin / Can’t you see the kind of shape you’re in? / What you gonna do... ?

Wait For Me

From Vermont, 2007:

(These exchanges intercut the chorus)

Hades: Hermes! / Hermes: Hades! / Hades: Back in town! / Please, sit down / Please, relax / You’ve been around the world and back / Haven’t you, Hermes? / Hermes: I have / Hades: How’s the weather? / Hermes: Worse than ever / How’s your wife? / Hades: My wife is fine / Hermes: You’ve been spending a lot of time together / Haven’t you, Hades?

Hades: What have you brought? / Hermes: The latest crop / Hades: The freshest cut? / Hermes: A cut above / Hades: How many of them, a lot? / Hermes: A lot / Hades: A few too many perhaps / What’s this? / Why have you brought me Orpheus? / I know I never ordered that / It seems you’ve gone behind my back / Haven’t you, Hermes?

Hades: What was that? / Hermes: What was what? / Hades: I heard a voice / Hermes: I heard it not / Hades: Someone singing / Hermes: I heard nothing / Hades: Some kind of song / Hermes: You could be wrong / It could have been the wind / Hades: The wind? / Hermes: It could have been the rain / Hades: The rain? / Hermes: It could have been the train... (the train / the train / the train / the train...)

From “an early cutting room floor version”:

Fates: One (one, one) / You forget the sun

Eurydice: I forget the sun

Fates: You forget where you come from / You forget the sun

Eurydice: I forget the sun

Fates: Two (two, two)

Why We Build the Wall

Pre-NYTW:

Hermes: A lot can happen behind closed doors / With the big boss and his fountain pen / A lot of dirty deals go down / When there ain’t nobody watching...

Our Lady of the Underground

The 2006 version of the song was called “A Crack in the Wall” and these were the lyrics:

Persephone: Come and see the stars! / They’re fixin to fall / Slidin’ and a-slipping’ / In their gravity shoes / Old Man Mars / Taking Venus to the ball / Big dipper dippin’ / To the blue-sky blues

Have you forgot? / Which was is up? / I think you’ll find / I have just the thing for you / Put a quarter in the slot / You can fill your loving cup / With a little bit of moonshine / From the pay-per-view

How selfless! / The silent moon / Holding a mirror / For an ungrateful sun / Hey, Orpheus! / Are you leaving so soon? / Every night around here / Is a fateful one

Maybe you got blindsided / Lost your papers! / Lost your mind! / Maybe you once lost an angel / Just to watch her fall / Look a little closer and / The water turns to wine / Look a little closer: there’s a crack in the wall!

So I raise my cup / To the stars in the sky / If you want a show / Go on, get in line / Step right up brothers / Don’t be shy / What the boss don’t know / The boss won’t mind

Way Down Hadestown (Reprise)

A 2013 version of this song was called “No One Now,” delivered to Orpheus, and these are the lyrics:

Fates: Used to be a blushing bride / That was on the other side / Better to forget her face / Now she’s like the rest of us / One more number in a crowd / Maybe she was someone once / She ain’t no one now

Used to be a loving wife / That was in another life / Carve it on a marble stone / Now she’s like the rest of us / One more body in the ground / Maybe she was someone once / She ain’t no one now

Brother don’t you think we all / Used to have a name to call? / A tale to tell as well as her? / Now she’s like the rest of us...

Maybe when she first arrived / So alive, so naive / All the bright lights in her eyes / All her insides fluttering (alt. Heart aflutter on her sleeve) / Maybe she was someone then / Back when Hades drew her in / Like a moth into his flame / Borne aloft on burning wings / Well she ain’t the first and she ain’t the last / Hades’ fire is hot and fast / Just ask all the other girls / Sweeping up the ashes in the underworld / See even when the flame is new / She doesn’t hold a candle to / The woman Hades truly loves / So maybe she was someone once / But now she’s like the rest of us / All used up, all burned out / Maybe she was someone once / She ain’t no one now

From the Dartmouth workshop:

Hermes (to Orpheus): If you wanna get around down here in the tank / Down here in the clink / Down here in the hole / You got to think the way they think / Which is to say, your mind is blank / Which is to say, don’t think at all / Come / I’ll show you how it’s done

Welcome to the skeleton crew! / Welcome to the chain gang, kid / Lemme introduce you to / The members of the working dead / Old Jack Hammer! / Mister Miner / Wandering forever in the catacombs / Working on a hole to China / Diggin’ up them dino bones / Way down...

Sweatshop Sally! Missus Miller! / Workin’ in the cellar where the sun don’t shine / Sad eyed little Cinderella / Sweeping up the ashes of the summertime / Used to be one a the boss’s pets / Now she’s just another stiff / One night in the boss’s bed / And a lifetime on the graveyard shift / Way down...

Flowers

Did not exist in Vermont, but there was a brief reprise of “Everything Written”:

Eurydice: If it’s me- if it’s me you’re looking for / Orpheus, I can’t be with you anymore

Fates: She signed in blood / She signed for good

Eurydice: I signed before I understood / And I’d unsign it if I could / But it’s too late / They say that everything is written / Everything is written in those stars / Even these lives we’re living / Even this love

Fates: Seven sisters...

Papers

Pre-NYTW:

Hades: Let me see your papers, son / Let me see your documents / Or could it be that you have none? / You’re on the wrong side of the fence...

If It’s True

Pre-concept album:

Orpheus: If it’s true what they say / If there’s nothing to be done / If there’s no part left to play / If there’s no song to be sung / If it’s true what they say / If there’s no stone left to turn / If there’s no prayer left to pray / If there’s no bridge left to burn / If it’s true what they say / I’ll be on my way / If it’s true what they say / Then I have lived a lie / They can take the sky away / Take the stars out of my eyes / And my face will be a mask / And my heart will be a stone / And I’ll throw away the past / And I’ll go away alone...

How Long?

Pre-concept album:

Persephone (to Hermes): Brother Hermes, god of speed / Put your feathers on his feet / Hasten his delivery / Keep him hale and whole / Brother, I’m a jaded woman / But there’s something in his singing / And it feels like spring a-comin’ / To the winter of my soul

Brother Hermes, god of speed / Put your feathers on his feet / Hasten his delivery / Keep him safe and sound / He reminds me of the lover / That I was when I was younger / Back before my heart went under / Undercover / Underground

Chant (Reprise)

Dartmouth Workshop, 2014:

Hades: And in this symphony of mine / Are power chords and power lines / Which I arrange and orchestrate / And every day I dedicate / The magnum opus of my life / To my unkind, ungrateful wife / Persephone, and she shall see / Her name in lights on my marquee / And every night, another show / My symphony will never close! / And she shall have a front row seat / Which she shall never, ever leave! / Young man, you can strum your lyre...

Epic III

Vermont:

Orpheus: The strong will take what they want to take / And the weak can only tell the tale / And the heart of the king loves everything / Like the hammer loves the nail

The heart of the king is iron and steel / The heart of the king is the color of rust / The heart of the king is soldered and sealed / The heart of the king is a tinderbox / That he has to keep under lock and key / That it not catch fire inside his chest / Cos a lover’s desire is a mutiny / A lover’s desire is a wilderness

But even that hardest of hearts unhardened...

(I just have to say I fucking love this imagery of a fire oh my god)

Lover’s Desire

Anaïs once set the original Lover’s Desire melody to lyrics around the area of Wedding Song:

Orpheus: Lover, can you hear me? / I’m asking for your hand / Your hand for better or for worse / Forever / Whether you’re sick or well / For rich or poorer, to have and to hold for as / Long as we both shall live

Eurydice: Lover, can you hear me? / I’m asking for a hand / A hand that’s steady and strong / To lean on / To catch me if I fall / That’s the hand that I’ll have and I’ll hold for as / Long as we both shall live

Word to the Wise

Early workshops:

Fates: Hey / Hey / Hey / It’s judgement day! / Are you gonna let ‘em just walk away? / What you gonna do... ?

Wait For Me (Reprise)

Vermont:

Hades: Hermes!

Hermes: Hades!

Hades: Time to go / Time to bring this to a close / Time to lay this thing to rest

Hermes: Orpheus?

Hades: Orpheus / It’s all agreed / We’ve struck a deal / He’s free

Hermes: He’s free?

Hades: He’s free to walk

Hermes: And she?

Hades: To follow at his heel / And she, to follow at his back

Eurydice: Wait for me, I’m coming...

Hades: And she shall follow at his back / And she shall follow in his wake

Hermes: And what’s the catch?

Hades: The catch is this: / He shall not turn to see her face / And if he turns, the game is up / The deal is off, his race is run / And that’s the end of Orpheus / You’ll see it done?

Eurydice: Wait for me, I’m coming...

Written at an unspecified time but never used:

Hermes: A poor boy and a hungry young girl / Walking single file / While the music played / Brother, they looked for all the world / Like they was walking down the aisle / On their wedding day

We Raise Our Cups

The show once ended with an alternate song called “Cloud Machine” in Vermont, the lyrics of which Anaïs says she is embarrassed by:

Orpheus: What have I done? Mother, what have I done? / Squandered the gift that you gave me / Gambled with Hades and Hades won / And there’s no song now that can save me

Mother, I failed! Oh Mother, I tried / And I fell like a fool would fall / And I left my love / On the other side / On the other side of the wall

(Alt. There’s a crack in the wall / It’s a little bit wider / It’s a little bit wider, that’s all)

Persephone: Come, my son, don’t take it so hard / Everything is forgiven / You have done naught / But to play out the part / That the Fates in their wisdom have written

Orpheus: Raise up the curtain! The crowd goes wild! / The Fates are drunken clowns / All of us dreamers are walking the wire / While they juggle our dream around

Apollo, come down in your cloud machine / Apollo, come swallowing fire / With your thunder and lightning and kerosene / For the Fates and their funeral pyre

Persephone: Come, my son, we try and we fail / Every tail has an end

But the pale dawn breaks / And the snake eats it’s tail / And the tale begins again...

#hadestown #working on a song #anais mitchell #orpheus #eurydice #hades #persephone #hermes #eva noblezada #amber gray #reeve carney #patrick page #andre de shields #my posts #this took so long omg pls don’t sleep on it #so many of these lyrics are so beautiful #if anyone wants to discuss them PLS hop in the inbox or dms

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kusagrasskusa · 4 years ago

Text

Michael Myers X Reader - Part 3 - Final

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

This one made me cringe lol- Also, there's sorta a sensitive part of the story so beware.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today is the day, Y/N thought to herself. She pressed her hand against the wall of her hallway, slowly moving her hand across it as she walked towards the living room. It was in the middle of the night, around 3AM, where Michael would be asleep by now. Perfect time to finally see that face for more than 5 seconds... At that thought, Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she wondered how Michael doesn't have terrible acne due to wearing that mask all the time.

Shaking that thought from her head, she finally entered the living room and saw a sleeping psychopath on her couch with his arms wrapped around a pillow and a large cover over him. The pillow he hugged always covered his face, hence why Y/N wasn't able to see his face in his sleep either. And because he always hides his mask when he sleeps as well, so Y/N can't just take it from him. And Michael's a light sleeper anyway, so he's catch her before she gets the chance to hide it.

But this time, Y/N had a plan. Michael sometimes goes out for a kill and she never knows. So when he comes home at 3AM and knocks on the door really loud, it scares the fuck outta her. In order to prevent that, she bought a camera that has night vision that connects to her computer. But she might as well test it out in living room, wink wink. And hey! She can find where he keeps his mask so Y/N doesn't have to look around for hours. All she needs to know is the general vicinity to find it. It was set up earlier, so all Y/N would have to do it wake him up so he goes to get his mask.

She smirked mischievously as she tiptoed over to the couch, hovering over him. He was lightly snoring peacefully, relaxed (not for long-). Y/N slowly gripped the sides of the pillow he was hugging, very delicately pulling it away from him. As soon as he started to stir in his sleep, she ripped it out of his arms and giggled as he shot his arms up over his face. "Aww, good morning, honey!" She giggled; Y/N could basically feel the anger radiating off of him, which was her que to ruN THE FUCK AWAY.

Right after saying good morning, she darted towards her room as fast as humanly possible. Rather than chasing her, Michael just hissed and stood up to grab his mask from in between the couch cushions. Sliding it on, he groggily went his way towards Y/N's room to probably scare her or something. I don't know, he was acting out in the moment.

Y/N could hear his slow footsteps faintly as he got closer to her door. She went under her bed to "hide from him" so it doesn't seem suspicious that she's just calm and all that. Yeah, poor reasoning but sTiLL. Anyway, Y/N giggled under her breath as he opened her bedroom door, walking inside her room and looking around. She could faintly hear him sigh as he went close to her bed, then turned his body so he could see under the bed. Y/N jolted backwards so she wouldn't get caught however Michael grabbed her arm strongly but gently. Y/N laughed as she was pulled out from under the bed.

"Michael, Michael, honey! I thought you were asleep or something!" She spoke innocently. She could just feel Michael's half lidded "shut the fuck up" stare. Y/N opened her mouth to speak again, but suddenly there was a loud knock on her door. I mean loud as in they were trying to break it. Y/N jumped, yelling, "what the hell!" Michael let go of her, watching as she raced towards her the kitchen to grab a knife. But as soon as she grabbed one, she heard someone yell.

"Police, open up!" Y/N's heart fucking dropped. Her lips quivered and her eyes widened with fear. Michael's image was the only thing she could think of as she opened the door, seeing a couple of large men in suits with guns and whatnot. One of them was holding a large black objects used to break down doors. Another was holding a piece of paper towards Y/N, speaking in a rough voice, "Y/N L/N! The FBI has a warrant to search your house for the wanted criminal Michael Myers. If we find any trace of him, you'll be under arrest for harboring a fugitive. For now, you'll be detained and questioned, not arrested. If it seems that your innocent, then you should remain calm and you shall have nothing to worry about. Otherwise, feel free to speak up now."

At the end of his speech, he put the paper away as a dozen of FBI agents bust into Y/N house, running across into ever room and searching for both Michael and evidence of him being here. At the sight of seeing all of this and the feeling of that officer grabbing her arms roughly and detaining them with cuffs, Y/N began to cry. Her legs became shaky and could barely support her weight. "What...What are you guys talking about?" She breathed out fearfully.

One of the FBI Agents came across an office room with a computer in it. The computer screen showed the living room as it is with agents breaking things and yelling. The agent hummed, messing with the keyboard and mouse a bit in order to see the earliest footage. It was of Y/N still setting up the camera and when she left the view of it, we can assume she went to bed. Hours later, a large and tall man was seen heading towards the couch, pulling off his mask and hiding it, then going to sleep.

"Muh-Michael is a...a..." Y/N breathed heavily, her back against the wall and an agent crouching on front of her. Of course, Y/N already knew this but at least she can get off with "not knowing."

"That's right. He's a murderer of many, including his older sister," the agent, who has Danyel written on his tag, replied. Two other agents went up to Dabyel, one of them addressing something.

"There's not a single thing of evidence of him, nor his clothing or anything. However I found camera footage of him being inside the house, sleeping on the couch in here. This woman clearly had a good relationship with him since she woke him up before we came here." Danyel responded to him, but Y/N didn't pay much attention. So Michael just left me, she thought. No, he had to leave so we both didn't get hurt! But it still hurts a little.

"Well, the good news is you didn't lie about not knowing him," Danyel laughed, grabbing Y/N's arm roughly and pulling her up. "Eh, sorry," he apologized when Y/N whenced at his grip. He started to walk her out of her extremely noisy home and to the outdoors, where she felt an amazing relief wash over. She sniffed, his breath quivering as some tears remained and more pouring out of her eyes.

"Michael was never bad to me," she spoke in a low voice, but still loud enough for Danyel to hear.

"Hmm." He walked Y/N up to his car, opening the back door to put Y/N in. She slid inside and was pushed away from the door and towards the middle of the seat. Then Danyel sat next to her, closing the door. Wait, she thought, this isn't normal. "Wanna tell me more about how he was?" He asked her, placing his hand on her cheek and using his thumb to wipe his tears. A shiver made it's way down her spine and her eyebrows furrowed together.

"He really is a nice guy. I can't comprehend he would do something so, so...evil," Y/N started, playing along. She really was hella upset about the reality of what murder really is; yes, she knew he was a killer but had never heard or seen any of it on the news or in person. And hey, if she didn't know the person, why would she care? But now in the situation where the hell that comes from murder is placed upon her so forcefully, she couldn't help but be slightly truthful when she spoke about how terrible she feels.

"My house was always open to people in need, and than I found him. He was knocking on doors, looking for a place to stay, and I let him in. He was so nice," Y/N sniffed, flinching her head back when Danyel tried to wipe away newer tears. "He was funny, loved the food I cooked and I finally had someone to talk to. No, he finally had someone to talk to. I could see so many signs of loneliness and hurt on him and I was finally curing it. Eventually, a few months in, I started to fall for him. Actually, I can't help but still love him.

"I know it's bad but he was the greatest friend, and roommate I could ever ask for. He never complained about anything either; heh heh, there was a time when he didn't have any clean clothes to change into so I had find something for him. All I had was a large baggy, blue hoodie and he it was a good look on him." Y/N chest ached as she finished her story, staring down at the car floor. Danyel hummed, a frown on his features.

Come to think of it, I never described Danyel very well. As mentioned before, he had a rough voice; it was serious and void of care. His demeanor matched it, too, as he showed no care for Y/N as she cried. Even when he wiped her tears, he didn't do it out of the goodness of his heart, but for some other reason. His uniform was a blue business suit, unlike the other FBI agents, and it matched a serious demeanor well. His stone cold blue eyes remained on Y/N as she talked, and every once in a while he was push back his slicked back grey-blonde hair.

He was around 35 with youth in his eyes yet his forehead and eyes had wrinkles. His hair was turning grey already, probably from the heavy amounts of stress that comes with the job. He was quite tall, about 6'3 (190cm) and had broad shoulders and had a slim yet muscular build. He wasn't necessarily attractive or youthful looking, but not yet ready for unattractive or old. He always had a frown and half lidded eyes showing nothing but boredom for everything around him.

"That's very touching, Miss L/N," he spoke. Y/N looked up at him, sniffing. Danyel hummed sadly and slowly changed his face to a softer expression. "Well, you won't have to worry about it after today. In the meantime, is there anyone you can stay with for now?" Y/N's lip quivered as she shook her head. "No? You have no family, no other friends? Surely a parent or sibling would help you on a time of need, regardless of your relationship." Y/N shook her head again. She doesn't really like to talk about it.

"I don't have anyone, sir, I really don't. I don't...I don't want to talk about it but I can't see my mom! I don't have any siblings or dad, but she's not a recommendation," she reassured, her heart speeding up at the mere thought of her mom. Danyel noticed this and raised a brow.

"In that case, you will stay at my place. Of course I'm putting my life on the line that way so expect some serious restrictions." Danyel spoke, a smirk almost appearing from the corners of his lips. Y/N felt a chill go up her spine and shook. "That means in case you attempt to escape, I'll be locking your room at night. Don't think I won't go further to ensure you don't attack me in my sleep. You won't be allowed to go outside at all ever. No one is allowed to visit. You'll be able to get food whenever you wish, as well. Roam to your heart's content, but please keep silent at night."

Y/N nodded in understanding but at the same time, she felt way more uneasy than she did when he suggested it. After all he never asked if she wanted to stay with him. No, he told her she would. And his rules seem way too restricting and very unprofessional for someone in the line of service. Y/N is nearly 65% of the size of him, so how the hell is she supposed to "murder him in his sleep?" He could literally just kick her if she ever tried. Lastly, it's almost like he really wanted this.

"Now that's settled, we should be heading towards the police station for questioning. If you're innocent and knew nothing of his history, you have nothing to fear so please be honest and put up no fight. May the lord have mercy on your beautiful soul."

~~~~~~

"This will be your room, Miss L/N," Danyel said as he opened a door. Inside was a small bed that was made, a dresser that was somewhat dusty besides it, and a single lap besides it. He walked up to the dresser and set down a suitcase that Y/N had packed after questioning at the police station. She had to get it searched twice in case something were to happen, which was hella annoying for her. "Please do make yourself at home. I'll cook something tonight."

Y/N nodded her head, very uneasy as the thought of staying at some strangers house. She sighed when he stepped out of her new room and she shut the door after him. She shivered, rubbing her eyes before tears well up. "I miss Michael," she whimpered silently to herself. She pushed her hair out of her face as a shaky breath came out of her mouth. Turning towards her suitcase, she walked towards it and unzipped it. She began to pull things out and pet them away in a respective place in the dresser.

"Hmm... Where's my hoodie?" Y/N mumbled to herself under her breath. She made sure to bring a certain blue hoodie with her, but she can't find it. As she scanned through it more, she noticed a few other articles of clothing was missing. "Um, alright, that's creepy," Y/N said out loud. What the hell did Danyel do? When she finished putting her clothes away, she pulled out comfortable pajamas of F/C and S/F/C. Right afterwards, she walked out of her room.

"I'm done," she called out as she walked into the kitchen. Danyel was wearing normal clothes now, no longer a suit and tie, and he was moving around something in a pan. It smelt a lot of breakfast in the kitchen, so it was probably eggs.

"Well, I hope you enjoy it here Y/N. You'll be staying for a while, heh heh," he chuckled as he turned off the stove. "I don't know if you like breakfast for dinner, but I made eggs and pancakes for us." Y/N smiled, sitting down at the table.

"It smells very nice, thanks," she answered. "I must have been in my room longer than I thought."

"You must have been. I had to go look inside to make sure you weren't sleeping, heh."

Y/N's smile dropped when she looked away from him. He was making plates at the moment, too distracted to see Y/N's look of discomfort. Maybe I'm just paranoid, she thought to herself, but he's so weird. As Danyel passed a plate in front of her and one for himself across the table, the room became filled with an awkward silence aside from the side of the a fork clinging against the plates. Y/N poked around at her food, a bit too unnerved from today to eat well. "You know, you shouldn't play with you food."

"I know, I know, sorry. It's just..." she drifted off before getting it back together. "I miss Michael. This is all so weird." Danyel frowned, picking up a few eggs and eating them before replying.

"I see. But you know, this is very essential for your well being. After all Michael is described as pure evil. If he truly cared for you, he would come here to save you and the task force will be here to protect you. If you wanted to go back to kill you because you know too much, the task force will be here to save you. I understand this sounds like I'm using you to lure him in however I am not. You're a very beautiful and intelligent girl who has a heart in the right place; as seen when you choose to let a homeless mute guy with a mask in your house.

"It would be quite a shame for someone like you to be void of life. After all, I'm sure you're a very fun woman and it would be nice for you to stick around with me for now. As you can see I'm without a family so it'd be nice to have some company." As Danyel finished talking, Y/N nodded in understanding. By now she had already finished her food as she kinda just wanted to go to sleep as fast as possible.

Y/N stood up and brought her plate to the think. "Thank you, sir, I appreciate it. I'm probably gonna go to sleep now, okay? Have a nice night," she said as she smiled at him. Danyel stared at her as she walked away and mumbled goodnight to her. Y/N walked into her new bedroom and looked around. It's depressing to not be in her own home, especially at a stranger's house. But she knew she'd see Michael soon, right? As she layer in bed and put on socks, she couldn't help but recall that one time Michael laid in bed with her because it was cold. She giggled to herself when she turned off the light and laid on her back in bed.

It was deadpan silent in that room. So if Y/N likes a fan or TV to help her sleep, this isn't very good for her. Either way, she managed to fall asleep while replaying plenty of memories in her head. Like one time, the first week of Michael staying at her house, she woke up to get ready for work. When she stood on the countertop to get the blender out of the cabinet so she can make a milkshake before work, she saw three sticky notes that said, "Short."

Giggling at the thought, Y/N closed her eyes, waiting for the day that she can live like that again. After all how can she can live in piece in her home again when her neighbors learn her roommate is a killer? She'd never be able to live in peace again. With these thoughts in mind, Y/N began to slowly drift away to sleep until finally all at once. At least, it would last like that for a little while.

A scream erupted from Y/N's mouth as she felt someone pin her to the bed. Danyel, of course, was the culprit; he held her arms tight and got really close to her. "Tell me where he's hiding! Tell me or you'll fucking regret it!" He yelled, making Y/N burst out into tears. She gasped for air, trying to kick him off of her but to no advil.

"I don't know! Let me go!" She yelled back, now trying to release her arms but of course to no advil.

"Lying little bitch," he mumbled under his breath as he let go of one of her wrists to grab something. It was too dark to see, but the metallic-plastic sound she heard means that's it could either be a knife or a gun. Y/N used her other arm to try to release her pinned down hand but she stopped when she felt something touch her head. It was, in fact, a gun. "Tell me where he is," he said as she flipped off his safety, "or die."

Y/N whimpered holding her free arm to her chest as to make herself seem smaller to comfort herself. Danyel released her other arm, putting both hands on his gun as he began to count down from 20. Y/N sniffed, her heart racing so heavily she felt like she would die. Only 20 seconds to live? What's the point of putting up a fight? She closed her eyes tightly, huffing until Danyel got to 5. As these few numbers left rang in her ears, she began to feel apprehensive.

In one swift and easy movement, she managed to hit the gun away from Danyel. A metallic clink sound hit the floor and right after that, a shot erupted. Danyel growled, slapping Y/N before lunging to grab his gun. As fast as humanly possible, Y/N shot up and ran out of the bedroom. The light from the moon shun from all the windows, making it easy for her to maneuver around and there was still enough darkness to hide. To the right outside her bedroom was the kitchen, and in the kitchen are knives, and like hell Y/N passing that up.

She swiftly grabbed one of those larger knives, one similar to what Michael carries. As soon as Y/N made it into the living room, she heard Danyel's loud footsteps run into the kitchen. In his house, the living room and kitchen don't have a wall to separate them to Y/N was in plain sight. "Put your hands up, L/N!" He yelled as he shakingly pointed his gun to her. "Make a move and I'll blow your head off!" Y/N gulped before having a master plan she learned in elementary school: she would juex him, or make him think she's going one way but she'd go the other way.

Y/N growled, jumping to her left but right as he shot, she jumped to the right again and began running. Danyel sped up after her, but it was a little too dark to actually see her move. He had to rely on her softly little footsteps that were being covered up but his own footsteps. Y/N took this time to swiftly get into Danyel's room. Luckily the floor in there was carpet rather than wood so she didn't worry about making too many sounds. In his room was a giant bed, two dressers, a nightstand, and a computer desk.

Danyel ran towards his room, not in it, and paused. "Where the hell did you go!" Y/N's lip quivered as she wiped off her tears; she looked around her for maybe something to throw so he would check inside the room, but know she was behind the door. Looking around her, she saw a binder on a bookcase she hadn't noticed before and grabbed it, throwing it against the wall across the room. Almost as soon as it hit the wall, Danyel ran in passed her, giving Y/N a good opportunity to ran out.

But instead, she gripped her knife strongly before running up to him from behind and plunging the knife right into his ribs, below his arm. Not many people know this, but one of the most vital places of the human body is below the arm; hell, sticking a fingernail in that place could pop so many vital veins that it will kill them. Danyel screamed loudly and spun around, his arm colliding with Y/N's head, knocking her over. Damn bobblehead. Danyel's blood sprayed as he pulled out the knife, dropping it onto the floor and covering his wound. He fell onto his knees. Somewhere in that time, he had dropped his gun, so he was defenseless.

Y/N ran towards the knife, as the gun was no where in sight due to the darkness of the room, gripping it. She rushed towards him a second time and this time, plunging the knife right into that bigass forehead of his. He went silent, went limp, and fell straightforward onto the floor. Y/N was covered in his blood but she weirdly didn't feel anything about it; she was basically desensitized from seeing Michael covered in it so many times.

With a small smile, she pulled out the knife and took it with her into her bedroom, throwing it onto the bed. She took of her bloody pajamas and then headed towards his bathroom to take a shower. Luckily there was much more blood on her clothes than on her body so she didn't struggle too much to get the thick liquid off her. Unfortunately, some of her skin was stained.

When she got out of the bathroom, she went back to the bedroom to get changed. No matter if she choose to put on a lovely dress, or skinny jeans and a sweater, or sweatpants and a tang top, she knew she wouldn't feel fully dressed until she could find that blue hoodie. So she headed towards Danyel's room and hummed to herself along the way. Stepping into the bedroom again, she froze when she saw a looming silhouette that was lit up by the moon threw the window. It wasn't open before, so she could only assume he had just gotten here.

A smile formed on Y/N's lips and her eyes felt watery from tears of joy. "Michael!" She yelled as she ran up to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She felt his arms slowly wrap around her too, lightly though as if she was fragile. Michael looked over at the fallen officer; he never knew that Y/N had it in her to kill someone. After all, Y/N once cried because Michael killed a butterfly. She must have been terrified; and although she couldn't feel it at the time, Y/N was so scared.

"Where were you?" Y/N asked as she whimpered, her lip quivering. Michael brushed her wet hair with his fingers, not answering her as expected. "Whatever... I'm so happy you're okay," she giggled to herself, wiping her tears away. "I guess their gonna link me with the murder no matter what I do, huh? So what should we do?"

Michael audibly sighed and let go of Y/N. He pulled his hands up to his mask, pulling it off. Y/N stood wide-eyed, her mouth parted open at the sight. Even in the darkness and little light the moon displayed, she could examine his ever feature for more than 5 seconds. "Oh my god," she mumbled as she brought her hands up to her mouth. "You're hot! What the hell! Why didn't you show this to me sooner you asshole!"

Her face was a light red shade and she was fangirling so badly inside her mind right now. After a solid 5 minutes, she finally calmed down; she crossed her arms and sighed to calm herself down. By now, Michael kinda just sat on his knees because he would rather not just stand there the whole time. "Well, um anyway..."

"Y/N. Obviously, we'll have to leave and hide. I've been doing this for a while; I know exactly where to go." Y/N shivered at the sound of his voice. It was serious this time instead of mischievous like the first time she heard it. Her cheeks lit up again but instead of fangirling on the outside, she kept it more on the inside.

"R-Right... I suppose we should be going now?" Michael nodded, smirking as he grabbed the sides of Y/N's face and pulling her close. They're lips collided (ew cooties) for a few seconds, and in those few seconds Y/N managed to have invented a new color, uncover a number hidden between 8 and 19376484974939, and small the word "iris." Right after they parted, Michael slid his mask back on and stood up.

"It'll be faster if I carried you. Your short legs won't go far on their own." Y/N huffed loudly, putting her hands on her hips. Her face was even brighter now, but wHatEver.

"You know what? Fine! At least I can see what it's like to be a damn giraffe." Plus she can also be held with biG StRonG ArMs or something like that, I don't know. She went up closer to him and held out her arms. "Just so you know, I want to stop by McDonald's on the way to where ever we're going."

Michael rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips under his mask as he picked her up bridal style, heading for the window. "Also! If you drop me, I'm suing." He ignored her comments as he stepped out of the window, landing perfectly. Y/N jumped in fear, "Cheezits rice!" Now if what she said didn't make sense to the reader, they should say it out loud and think about what it sounds like. Anyway, Danyel's house was actually pretty secretive. It's in the middle of the woods with only one road that leads to civilization. And that's where the two were heading.

~~~~~~~~~~

"This place is weird," Y/N said as she ate a McChicken nugget. She was holding a happy meal that contained a 6-piece chicken and fries. Also it came with a Rainbow Dash toy. Pure bliss. Anyway, the two of them were in an abandoned asylum that had concrete floors and white walls; there were cobwebs and wood and dirt scattered. "Also, if you think for a damn second that I'm cleaning this, you're wrong."

"Not you. We. We need a place to stay, right? A little work here and there would be sufficient."

"How are you gonna use big words when your handwriting looks like a mouse trying to use a pen?"

Three months later, the asylum did not look bad at all. They only used very few areas of it; by the window they entered through was three rooms that were very close together. These rooms and the hallway that connected it was basically their home. It sounds strange, but after managing to steal a bunch of lights, sweep away nasty shit, and steal certain kinds of wallpaper to cover up the old wallpaper, it became livable. They brought in tables, even a fucking fridge, chairs, etc to make it more homey.

The asylum wasn't that old either; there was outlets for plugging in lights and a fridge and all that. They were able to steal power from a nearby working place to even get the power needed, too. Things worked surprisingly well. Y/N would cook, Michael would clean, and all that good stuff. Y/N was the one to go out shopping and all that, and Michael would steal. The power of teamwork! One one of the rooms was a bed and dresser; the bed was pretty low on the ground actually and hella big too, so Michael could fit.

Y/N would be home a lot by herself, as Michael's quest to kill his family was worth more than life to him, but she would still see him pretty often.

This series is over, but if anyone suggests a story deeper into how their relationship would be or perhaps even kids, I have no shaming in making it happen. Or perhaps a different ending?!

#micheal myers #michael myers x y/n #micheal myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #slashers x reader #slashers

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m88n · 4 years ago

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[9.01 pm] - when johnny suh makes for an unexpected companion after you got stood up in a valentine’s day date

►listen to ‘dance by offonoff if you’re in a bar’

You’re clad in your favorite black dress that hugs your curves in all the right places, adorned with precious silver jewellery and a pair of black stilettos, complete with a soft glam look with glossy lips that glimmer in the low lights of the hotel bar. You made sure to look your best tonight, yet finding yourself sitting defeatedly on one of the bar stools, with your leather handbag limply perched on the table surface. You rest your elbows, delicately cupping your own cheeks while sighing softly to yourself.

Noticing your movements, a bartender slowly makes his way towards you after attending to the other patrons in the relatively empty bar. This doesn’t come as a surprise, as this particular bar venue would not be accessible to many, due to the nature of its pricing and overall exclusivity. That would also be the reason why you made sure to dress up really well in the first place.

“What can I get you, miss?” He asks politely as he continues wiping glasses behind the counter with a washcloth.

“Two shots of absinthe, please.” You sighed out.

Although the bartender exercises an unsurprised look given your response, you could sense that he’d be a little concerned with your drink of choice given its strength. But before he could interject, you feel a slight movement occupying the empty spot next to yours.

“What’s a beautiful lady doing taking solo absinthe shots during the night of Valentine’s Day?” The stranger asks after settling in his seat. You fixate your eyes on the soft glow of the bar lights reflected on the surfaces of the liquor bottles, not even bothering to take a look at the man now seated beside you. A stranger trying to butt his way into your business would normally bother you, but tonight, it really seems like you really couldn’t care less about anything, anymore.

“She’ll have a blue lagoon. I’ll have the standard whiskey on the rocks.” He promptly says to the bartender.

You finally bring yourself to turn your head to take a look at this stranger, and you’d be lying if you said the sight you’ve been presented with fails to take your breath away. This man dons a crisp black vest and pants combination, elongating his already striking body proportions, with a black tie neatly tucked against the fitted white shirt he wears beneath his vest. His locks lush; slightly long, dark brown—slicked back accentuating his high cheekbones and prominent jawline. You don’t fail to notice this man wearing a pair of black leather loafers to complete his entire polished ensemble. He looks nothing short than a million dollars—yet somehow doing so without appearing loud and gaudy. You won’t even disagree if someone were to say that he’d be sophistication and refined personified.

“Oh, apologies miss for my interruption, my name’s John.” He chuckles, putting his hand in between you two. “My friends sometimes call me Johnny, but whatever works for you.”

You snap yourself out of your daze and gingerly takes the hand that’s been offered to you. You notice that his hand is warm against your own, almost as if thawing the emptiness you’ve surrendered yourself to. His grip is gentle, yet firm, as he shakes your hands to solidify your acknowledgements of each other.

“..I’m y/n.” You finally say, meeting his gaze.

“Nice to meet you, y/n.” He says as he maintains deep eye contact with you, not forgetting to wear an inviting smile, drawing you in even further into his charms.

“I promise you, you’ll love the drink I got you.” He grins, faint whiskers forming on his cheeks as he leans against the bar table.

“What, do all the girls you approach in a bar seem to like it too?” You scoff, reminding yourself to put your guard up against an attractive man that approaches you out of nowhere.

He hums to himself, then simply pulls a smirk.

“You could call me a connoisseur in these kinda things,” He says, cocking his eyebrows.

You let out a chuckle in response. “Sure, let’s see what you’ve got then. Even if you didn’t really answer what I asked.”

“There we go,” He smiles to himself as he takes a look at you, leaning against his hand that’s been resting on the table.

“…What?” You ask.

“Your smile’s so pretty, and I finally get to see what it looks like.” He answers simply.

You scoff in utter disbelief, yet unable to suppress the smile trying to break through your reserves.

“What, have you been looking at me from afar or something, Mr. John Doe?” You tease.

“What if I said yes, would you believe me?” He asks with half lidded eyes and a slight smile, not letting you up.

“Whiskey on the rocks, and a blue lagoon for the lady.” The bartender says as he places your drinks in front of you, finally directing your attention elsewhere other than Johnny’s pair of eyes.

“Thanks, man.” Johnny says.

“No problem, Mr. Suh.” The bartender responds.

“You come here often?” You ask him after a beat of hesitation. If he does, then you conclude that he has to be a man of at least considerable status, fame, or power. If he does, then it makes you wonder all the more as to why he chooses to approach you and perhaps, keep you company.

“I do, sometimes. I like it here since it doesn’t get crowded much.” He answers simply. “You cold? I have a puffy jacket you could wear on top.” He continues as he carelessly grabs a black coat that’s been sitting on the table beside him. It wouldn’t take a genius to notice that the coat he’s offering you at the moment is in fact, a designer puffer coat. Not that you’d be surprised at this point.

“No, I’m good. Thanks, John.” You smile at him. You feel yourself clamming up a little due to the thought process you’ve had earlier.

“Okay then, suit yourself,” He says in a sing-song voice, shrugging his shoulders. He briefly gets up from his seat to place his coat on the table surface next to your seat, before quickly returning to his seat. “It’s there if you need it.”

Your smile grows wider, and maybe, a lot more genuine as you notice the sincerity in his gesture.

“Thanks, John.”

“Alright, let’s drink up,” He says, before swiftly unbuttoning his cuffs then rolling his sleeves up—and you can’t help but to notice his toned biceps. You try your best not to gawk, but you can’t lie, you feel a little weak in the knees at the sight.

“Like what you see?” He says as he slicks back some loose strands of his hair.

“….Haha, what a sleazeball,” You say, chuckling nervously to yourself.

“Sure thing baby,” He says, lifting his glass of whiskey on the rocks, “Let’s cheers,”

You feel your face heat up, your lips threatening to break into a wide smile, as you palm your forehead in an attempt to center yourself. You finally take your glass of blue lagoon to meet his cheers.

“Too much?” He asks, examining your reactions.

You clink your glasses.

“Don’t worry about it.” You answer, chuckling, still in disbelief.

You finally take a sip of your blue lagoon, pleasantly surprised with the taste of the drink—it’s everything you love: it’s fruity, fresh, and sweet—with a hint of citrus. You must’ve looked pleasantly surprised as you could sense Johnny smirking from your periphery.

“Did I hit the mark?” He asks, as he studies your expression intently, a smug smile pasted on his face.

“Yeah. Yeah, you actually really did.” You sigh out, smiling to yourself. “You really got that whole connoisseur thing going on, huh? You’re not just all talk,”

He lets out a hearty chuckle at your comment.

“I’m glad you like.” He says before taking another sip of his drink.

As you take another sip of your drink, you can’t help but notice that it really does taste so good. You could tell that it wouldn’t be the hardest or most expensive drink to make, but it really does fit your tastes a little bit too well for it to be a mere blind guess.

“Okay, Mr. Big Shot Connoisseur, what are your trade secrets? I need to know,” You ask him, incredibly curious as to why he has your exact tastes pinned down to a T.

“Trade secrets?” He shrugs, “Don’t have any. I’m just that good.” He responds, wearing a smug smile.

You narrow your eyes at him.

“You doubting me?” He asks you playfully.

“Hell yeah, I’d be doubting you.” You scoff as you take Johnny’s jacket, quickly draping it over your shoulders. “A connoisseur’s a connoisseur, but a connoisseur won’t be some oracle, you get me?”

“You’re still doubting me even when I saw that coming,” He says, eyeing his coat now hanging over your shoulders.

You laugh at his remark. “Shut up,” You manage to say, “I’m just honestly really curious. Did I seem like the type who would like this drink or something?”

For the first time tonight, he refrains from quipping in his usual whimsical tone. Instead, he holds an indecipherable gaze towards your eyes, which takes you a bit off guard as the air seems to have changed a little.

He hums, gently swirling his cup of whiskey with his hand, before taking another sip.

“What if…” He trails off, narrowing his eyes at you, “...I tell you that my trade secret is that I’ve actually known that you’d like this type of drink?”

“Wh... What? What do you mean? It couldn’t be—Wait, are you actually an oracle?” You ask him, taken by complete surprise.

He laughs at your hasty accusation, before looking at you with a knowing gaze.

“Miss y/n, we’ve met two times before tonight.” He answers you with a slight smile, holding a gentle gaze towards you. “Actually, once really. The other time I really just watched you from afar. So would you look at that, your guess was on the mark.” He finishes, before taking another sip from his glass of whiskey.

You’re left with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, before resting your fingers against your forehead, trying to fetch any hints of Johnny in your memories.

He chuckles at your antics, “We met at Skye. That night, when the whole venue was rented out for Jimin’s birthday party.”

Skye. Jimin’s birthday party. Jimin.

Then you vaguely remember a memory of a tall, long-legged man helping you get up after you puked your guts out, then taking you to a taxi stand, waiting for you until you get a ride home. You recall him insisting that he’d give you a ride home for you to be safe, but you declined his offer because you didn’t want Jimin thinking anything of it.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” Is all you could say after recalling all that.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about it, y/n.” He quips after seeing you zone out, “It’s Valentine’s Day, let’s drink your blue lagoon and live it up or something. I didn’t come out here for you to be sorry.”

You finally brave yourself by looking at him in the face, “….Why didn’t you just say you knew me from the start?”

“And what? Introduce myself, being all like, ‘Hey, my name’s John, I’ve noticed you from weeks ago during that one party at that one venue and since then I’ve had my eyes on you, but haven’t had the chance to make any moves until I see you all alone in this bar I’m a patron of’ …And expect you to not turn the other way and run away from me? I’m not taking any chances, y/n,” He answers lightheartedly, before taking a sip of his drink.

You let out a hearty chuckle at his clever remark. You decide that spending Valentine’s Day with John isn’t so bad after all. It might even be much better than you’d expect.

“Yeah, Jimin’s an ass.” You say offhandedly. “Should’ve seen that coming. He was the one who stood me up tonight.”

You look at John, noticing the way he’s seemingly restraining himself from responding the way he immediately wanted to.

“Out with it.” You say to him.

“Wh-what..?” He feigns ignorance.

“I know you wanna say something. Out with it. Lay it on me.”

“Naah, there are times when you gotta hold—"

“I thought we were gonna live it up tonight, and if we do, we gotta live it up with complete realness. You’ve seen me as a complete mess anyway,” You chuckle.

“Okay, okay, alright.... Would it be bad that I kinda thank Jimin for being an ass? I wouldn’t get this close to you otherwise,”

You chuckle in disbelief, before gently punching his arm. “Yeah, alright, maybe we gotta have limits.”

You notice his eyes quivering in the slightest, sensing his worry in the way he’s handled the situation.

“I’m joking, John. Not gonna lie, Valentine’s been real fun with you.” You chuckle at him, rubbing the spot on his arm that you’ve punched earlier. You don’t fail to notice the way his face flushes a light pink at your touch. “I, too, now, am glad that Jimin’s an ass. Otherwise how am I gonna be treated to a blue lagoon by a real connoisseur?” You finish smugly, bringing your glass in between you two.

Johnny laughs at your response, before looking at you with a warm smile.

“You really are something else, y/n.” He muses, looking at you gently as he leans his head against his hand.

You gaze at him with the same gentleness, smiling at the man who’s been treating you with nothing but kindness.

“…Cheers to Jimin, I guess.” He says, bringing his glass to meet yours.

“Cheers to Jimin.” You say, chuckling, clinking your glasses.

You both take time in downing your drinks in order to defuse the slight tension carried in the topic you’ve discussed earlier, revelling in the quiet Valentine’s night in an expensive hotel bar, having each other as unlikely companies—yet somehow still finding yourselves with each other.

“One very important thing hasn’t been cleared up, though.” You finally say.

“What would that be, miss y/n?” He asks you.

“How’d you know I’d like blue lagoon?” You finally ask him, hoping to finally get an actual answer.

He chuckles at your question. “Alright, don’t hate me for this.” He says, as a smile breaks onto his face.

You look at him quizzically. “What? Why?”

“That night, when you… Threw up,” He says, in the midst of light chuckling, “You kept on complaining to me that you had to take whiskey shots because you’d feel bad asking Jimin to get you a cocktail—a Sex on the Beach—and you were saying that so much—‘I wanted a SEX ON THE BEACH, a SEX ON THE BEACH, in the middle of a crowded venue, and everyone looked at you,”

You palm your face from the utter embarrassment, recalling that such event did actually take place upon further look into the fuzzier contents of your mind.

“Just get to the reason dude, I know you’re telling me in such great detail just cause you wanted to see me flustered,”

He laughs at your reaction, “Damn, that was so funny though. That was the time that I really did think, dang, this girl’s a keeper or something—anyways,”

Your eyes widen at the remark he let out with complete lightness, feeling your cheeks warm up almost instantaneously—in no way you’re going to let that slide without reacting to it in some way.

“Yeah, so, when we met the second time, or more like, I looked at you from afar, it was at this underground bar, and you finally got your Sex on the Beach then, and I was like ‘Oh, she finally got her Sex on the Beach, good for her’!” He says with a thumbs up, earning a flustered smack on the arm from you, as you partially cover your face with your other hand from embarrassment.

“But then I heard you saying to Jimin, ‘They always get the schnapps and juice to vodka ratio wrong in some places,’”

“Wow, details.” You say whimsically, however not hiding the obvious flusteredness you’re feeling from his whole recollection.

“Yeah, so, when I actually got the chance to sweep you off your feet as this handsome stranger at the bar during Valentine’s day, I’d like to introduce you to a similar summery drink that this guy makes,” He gestures at the bartender, “And he does make a mean blue lagoon, if I do say so myself.”

“….Well, this handsome stranger did sweep me off my feet with a glass of blue lagoon, so, awesome job,” You say, still chuckling in disbelief with how your Valentine’s turned out to be. “I guess you weren’t really lying when you said you’re a connoisseur.”

“Well…. I’m a connoisseur in many other areas too, baby,” He winks at you. “.…Too much?”

You chuckle, basking in the playful chemistry you both have been building since the moment you’ve met each other tonight.

“You know what, no.” You say, finally deciding to drop your attempts at a façade, as if you haven’t been thinking about that earlier either. “It’s not too much. Show me what those guns could do baby, let’s see if you could sweep me off my feet in other ways.” You say with an overdone, faux husky voice, earning a fit of laughter from him.

“Just so we’re clear, I’d want to eventually ask you on a proper date.”

“We can do that tomorrow babe, when you’re done giving me what I deserve on a Valentine’s night.”

He chuckles at you, looking at you almost in a painfully affectionate way.

“That’s a done deal.”

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edenmemes · 4 years ago

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red dead redemption 2 starters

❝ in these books life seems so simple, but in reality… i can’t make head nor tail of it. ❞ ❝ listen to me. when the times comes, you gotta run and don’t look back. ❞ ❝ i ain’t afraid of dying. ❞ ❝ i’m still standing, which is an improvement on the last time you saw me. ❞ ❝ i still think about you. that was...that was quite a time. ❞ ❝ people don’t forget. nothing gets forgiven. ❞ ❝ your father would rather you did not do anything so foolish. ❞ ❝ forgiveness, well...it’s just an easy way of saying ‘i don’t care no more’. ❞ ❝ i know you like to hide behind the angry moron act, but it’s a thin enough veneer. ❞ ❝ when somebody doesn’t lie in this world and you don’t lie to them, then together you can achieve great things and destroy great powers. ❞ ❝ i remain a fool, and i’m sure i shall die a fool, but i’m trying very hard to be something like the man you deserve. ❞ ❝ i am always honest, maybe not always good, but i'm always honest. ❞ ❝ why you got that guilty look on your face? ❞ ❝ i trust i will not make a god awful fool of myself once more-- but somehow i imagine i shall. ❞ ❝ please don’t go to any trouble on my account. ❞ ❝ you ain’t gonna die. not yet. ❞ ❝ feels like things have changed...the whole world has changed. ❞ ❝ i feel like we haven’t spoken for days. ❞ ❝ we’re thieves in a world that don’t want us no more. ❞ ❝ we can’t change what’s done. we can only move on. ❞ ❝ just do one thing or the other. don’t try to be two people at once. ❞ ❝ we’re more ghosts than people. ❞ ❝ how can romance ever be silly? it’s all we have. ❞ ❝ vengeance is an idiot’s game. ❞ ❝ i don’t think we can go much further on the horses. ❞ ❝ i'm surprised we escaped at all. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me. ❞ ❝ you’re...i was gonna say you’re like a son/daughter to me...but you’re more than that. ❞ ❝ this is a new low, even by your standards. ❞ ❝ i do my utmost to avoid you. ❞ ❝ i thought the whole point was that this had nothing to do with you? ❞ ❝ i’m sorry to complain. it’s just so... ❞ ❝ i need you now...more than ever. ❞ ❝ face me to the west so i can watch the setting sun and remember all the fine times we had that way. ❞ ❝ do you ever miss home? must be hard, being so far away. ❞ ❝ you know, we’re gonna need to come up with a better story for that scar. ❞ ❝ there’s a good man within you...but he is wrestling a giant. ❞ ❝ you saved my life. you’re a good man. ❞ ❝ there’s only one of me. i don’t intend for them to know i’m coming. ❞ ❝ i thought you were trying to make me feel better. ❞ ❝ be loyal to what matters. ❞ ❝ you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you squeal before. ❞ ❝ i'm miserable. been a tough few days. ❞ ❝ i trust your judgement. always have. ❞ ❝ i'm just gonna...have a little sit down and...feel sorry for myself. ❞ ❝ i tried. in the end. i did. ❞ ❝ one day, folk will take orders from me...and trust me, it won’t be no laughing matter. ❞ ❝ here, take a drink of this. ❞ ❝ seems like there ain’t much else in this world except bastards, victims of bastards and the bastards who want to put the bastards in the ground. ❞ ❝ we’ll get off this mountain soon enough. ❞ ❝ i haven’t slept in three days. ❞ ❝ just thought you might’ve moved on by now. ❞ ❝ thanks for coming for me. ❞ ❝ you got sad eyes...like you’ve seen sad things. ❞ ❝ you always said revenge is a luxury we can’t afford. ❞ ❝ you don’t hire a saint to catch a sinner. ❞ ❝ you’re alive! oh, you’re alive! ❞ ❝ go. now. i’ll hold them off. ❞ ❝ are you okay? i mean you no harm. ❞ ❝ i'm nobody. ❞ ❝ what about you? you doubting me too? ❞ ❝ it’s enough to make a man drink. or worse. ❞ ❝ i knew not to trust, yet i had no choice. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no more time to talk. go. ❞ ❝ thank you, for your strength. it means a lot to me. ❞ ❝ firstly, we ain’t friends. don’t make no mistake on that subject. ❞ ❝ i'm so bored i’d rather be shot. ❞ ❝ it’ll mean a lot to me...please. ❞ ❝ you’re gonna sleep with your chest open if you ain’t careful. ❞ ❝ the bond we share, it’s the most real thing to me. i would kill for it, i would happily die for it... ❞ ❝ life is full of pain. but there is also love, and beauty. ❞ ❝ my pa used to say you stare into the fire long enough you can see the whole world pass by. ❞ ❝ whenever we happen to meet, you’re always helping people and smiling. ❞ ❝ do as you’re goddamn told. and shoot well. ❞ ❝ i guess he never outgrew his anger. kind of like you. ❞ ❝ some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves. some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that. ❞ ❝ you’re driven by powerful forces i scarcely understand. ❞ ❝ oh you fool. you sad, deluded fool. torn in two by different ideas of who you were, and it turns out you weren't neither of them. ❞ ❝ well, i think you’re as slippery as an eel in an oil slick, but still a man/woman. ❞ ❝ with you watching over me, i’d walk into hell itself. ❞ ❝ lack of something to feel important about is almost the greatest tragedy a man may have. ❞ ❝ when i was your age, i fought. i saw death. i have killed. ❞ ❝ i wish things were different. but it weren’t us who changed. ❞ ❝ nobody’s taking anything from me ever again. ❞ ❝ some jobs aren’t for saving and some legacies are for pissing on. ❞ ❝ you're my favorite parasite... no, wait, ringworm's my favorite parasite, you're my second-favorite parasite... i lied. ringworm, then, rats with the plague, then you. ❞ ❝ just leave it to me. i can talk a dog off a meat wagon. ❞ ❝ forgive me if i slip and stab you in the face. ❞ ❝ this place, ain’t no such thing as civilized. it’s man so in love with greed, that he has forgotten himself and found only appetites. ❞ ❝ shut up...you know, you’re not very nice to me. ❞ ❝ the amount of hell we’ve raised, we’re owed some back. ❞ ❝ i haven’t done anything wrong aside of not playing the games to your rules. ❞ ❝ don’t let yourself get killed...for pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folk. ❞ ❝ when you fall, there’ll be a party. ❞ ❝ every day i didn’t kill you, is a day i saved your life. ❞ ❝ i can’t kill them all silently so, when they chase me, you go the other way. ❞ ❝ does this seem like a good time for sarcasm to you? ❞ ❝ usually i’m worse than the wolves. ❞ ❝ i don’t have to be careful. i have you as a friend. ❞ ❝ i wish i had acquired wisdom at less of a price. ❞ ❝ they’re chasing us hard, because we represent everything they fear. ❞ ❝ you know all that mattered to me was loyalty? it was all i ever believed in. ❞ ❝ never thought i’d say this but...it’s good to see you. ❞ ❝ we’ve all lived bad lives. we all sin...but i know you. ❞ ❝ i kill people. and maybe i should’ve killed you. ❞ ❝ ain’t you a sorry sight? ❞ ❝ your job’s starting the fights, it ain’t winning them. ❞ ❝ some big, loud mouthed bastard tried to rob me when i was out riding so i... well, you know how it is. ❞ ❝ there ain’t no shame in looking for a better world. ❞ ❝ i can hunt, carry a knife, and use a gun. ❞ ❝ ...is it too late for us? ❞ ❝ if the purpose of life was to be liked...it would be very boring indeed. ❞ ❝ i’ve been running for as long as i can remember. ❞ ❝ they turned me into a monster. ❞ ❝ i always wondered if i was unlucky...but maybe i’m just not very good. ❞ ❝ don’t kill yourself over pride. i’ve seen it kill too many folks. ❞ ❝ sorry if i seem a little desperate. i am a little desperate. ❞ ❝ if anyone gets close to me, they’re wanted too. and i can’t have you wrapped up in that. ❞ ❝ there’s all kinds of nasty people who want to speak to you. ❞ ❝ they won’t hear anything about you from me. ❞ ❝ tell me about you, darling and armed to the teeth like that. ❞ ❝ i also...found out some unsettling news about you. ❞ ❝ i don’t know how to say it...thank you. ❞ ❝ you...don’t like me much, do you? ❞ ❝ i can’t lie to you. i’m a wanted man. ❞ ❝ that’s quite a scratch you got there. ❞ ❝ take a gamble that love exists, and do a loving act. ❞ ❝ i’m seeing things a lot more clearly now. ❞ ❝ where are you? can you hear me? ❞ ❝ i think someone saw some wolves, not far away. you should watch out. ❞ ❝ guess all i got now is doubt. doubts and scars. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t me who went and shot him. ❞ ❝ will you dance with me? ❞ ❝ i like you. you’ve got a kind face. ❞ ❝ i’m not a good man. not usually. ❞ ❝ there’s a lot i should’ve done and even more i shouldn’t have done. ❞ ❝ you are a compulsive liar. ❞ ❝ next time, i’ll slit your throat myself. ❞ ❝ as long as we get paid or you get shot, i’m happy. ❞ ❝ i'm not designed for this snow. ❞ ❝ you don’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to you. ❞ ❝ shut up you silly man and kiss me. ❞ ❝ who made you the messiah of these poor souls you’ve led so horribly astray? ❞ ❝ maybe it’s a sign. try to do the good thing. ❞ ❝ how many times do i gotta bury you? ❞ ❝ you are the only feller who could get half of their brain eaten by wolves and end up more intelligent. ❞ ❝ five thousand dollars? for me? can i turn myself in? ❞ ❝ if you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is to stop digging. ❞ ❝ we ain’t both gonna make it. ❞ ❝ i gave you all i had. i did. ❞ ❝ if we have to fight, we fight. If we have to run, we’ll run. if we must die, we’ll die. but…we’ll stay free. ❞ ❝ people call me lazy. i’m not lazy, just don’t like working. there’s a difference. ❞ ❝ i guess...i’m afraid. ❞ ❝ oh, i didn’t know i was talking to a lady. ❞ ❝ i don’t feel too good. ❞ ❝ you have finally lost your mind. ❞

#sentence starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #rp meme #long post for ts /#im gonna add more to this one later on ! & update it now & again #there's a LOT of stuff in r/dr

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whalesfallmoved · 4 years ago

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hand over wound

round two.

chargestep, rated t. 1.9k.

a brief, helpless attempt at ortega’s point of view. the shameless flirty banter and back and forth of pre-heartbreak ricardo, whose main goal is being an absolute menace to society- population, sidestep. horribly self-indulgent in every way, but she lets herself get helped in this one, so what can I say.

ao3 link.

—

She’s got a hard grip and a bite sharp as her bark, and when you finally get her to put her hand in yours it’s not without the same sensation of coaxing a street cat out of hiding, flinching at the first sudden movement.

Not this time, though. This time, she lets you catch her wrist, lets you turn it over, and— oh boy— this is the most skin you’ve ever seen, sleeve pushed up almost to her elbow, wrists on display, never would’ve thought they’d look this dainty, crisscrossed as they are by scar tissue and branching blue veins and solid as birdbone.

She squeezes that small, angry little fist in your hand and the tendons flex, the knuckles split raw and furious, scabs already coagulating where the damage runs reddest. Her trophies for that blitz quick punch she packs, armorless and fast (but not as fast— not as fast as you— lightning striking twice.)

Fidgeting, antsy, she kicks her feet against your chair, knock-knock-knock, squeezing her mask in her other pink, exposed fist. Jittery, and you bite back something wry and flustering, something that’ll earn you a freeze and an idiot and a blush and oh, you love that even more, how you can watch it bloom freely now, worth the wait and the coaxing to get her to finally tug Sidestep off the rest of the way, leave just Noa and her big, big eyes (deep brown as a hound’s and you weren’t expecting that, for her to be so warm underneath the hard, cold turquoise) and how she desperately needs the mask, they’d never be scared of her otherwise—and with your other hand you loosen her curled fingers free.

Toss her a grin, tap her leg with yours, pretend you aren’t surprised by how soft her skin is when it’s not covered in skinsuit and blood, the way it’s never seen the Los Diablos sun—at least, not long enough to match the freckles on her doughy cheeks (freckles down her shoulder? her back?) Layers and layers and here she is, in your apartment, hand in hand, and fuck, you can say something about that too. Something about that kiss something about— later.

“So, I was thinking.”

“Wow. Did you hurt yourself?” Reflex, but she straightens up, watches, waits, and you like that too— the way she can’t hear, the way she has to ask.

“A little, yeah,” medkits and rags and clean water, you dab at the cuts and earn yourself a hiss.

“Out of practice, huh?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You wink and that gets you a scowl, a twist of her mouth, and you’re pretty sure if you weren’t you you’d get her teeth, too. Not even Themmy would get away with that, much as she likes them, they can’t cross the hard line of her last name yet, and you’ve earned smug, you think, you grin, you drag the antiseptic across her knuckles while she’s still glaring and pink at the ears—her hand jerks in yours and you squeeze tighter, gentle. “I was thinking about your suit.”

“Trying to give some fashion advice? Pass.”

“First of all, if anyone here’s in desperate need of it—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, not this again.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you make the unwashed seventeen year old boy look work for you, somehow—”

“Asshole.”

“Sorry, would you prefer sexily disheveled?”

“You— shut up,” there it is, her averting gaze, her grooving brow, her pretty cheeks— ow, fuck— her foot ramming into your calf. “You are such a dick.”

“You love it,” wink, sly grin, she glares harder but doesn’t argue, you’ve got her there and you both know it. “And that wasn’t what I was going to say.”

The split cuts are worse than you thought, wounds wiped clean revealing the deep and the raw all laden on top of each other, opened again and again, her smarting palms scratched and torn, not so different from yours when you try hard enough but it’s different (because it’s her?) and fuck, how long has she been doing this?

Still can’t win her over with the blue and the white and big capital R and the promise of solid health benefits. Too bad. Can’t blame her though, even if it makes your job twice as hard to let her into the systems, to let her put her darting fingers all over the Rangers’ files, to let her anywhere near the missions you need her most.

“Well?”

Look up, and she’s watching and waiting still, and you must’ve gone quiet for a moment, turning her knuckles over.

“Your suit’s crap.” Homemade and spliced together, practically sportswear these days, riddled with seams and stitches she’s mended. Not bad for a third-rate vigilante, but that’s not her, not Sidestep, not your—

Not your anything, and she’d eat you alive if she ever caught the tail-end of a thought like that. But she’s going to get herself hurt all the same. More hurt than usual.

“It’s just lightweight. Yours isn’t any different.”

“Mine’s definitely different,” fresh white bandages over red, swollen bruises. You wind them around once, twice, taking care. “The material’s outdated. Where’d you get it, anyway?”

“None of your business,” she snaps, and you half expect her to rip away, pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. “And it’s not like I can just hit Uncle Sam up for some brand new state of the art gear.”

“I mean, you could.”

“Don’t.”

“I think you’d look good in blue.”

“Ugh.”

“Just think about it. You. Me. Matching uniforms. We could get you a little lightning bolt, right here,” hand over your heart and she’s definitely going to hit you for that one. “I don’t mind sharing the brand with you.”

“Go die in a hole.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please go die in a hole.”

“Will you join me?”

“Fuck no. I’m putting you there myself. Can’t stand your ass.”

“Good thing you’re sitting down then. Also, thinking about my ass, hmm? Good to know.”

“Ugh.”

“Bad time to ask about what other sounds your mouth can make?”

“Try it and I’ll feed you your own eyeballs.”

“Ohh, promises, promises.”

She wants to laugh, catching it quick between her teeth, a soft indent in her softer cheeks, and if you try a little harder you might be able to shake that grin from her, earn yourself a glimmer in her dark, dark eyes—and she’s running out of bark, out of bite, so the first round goes to you as you set her fist down, wrapped, clean and new in bandages that won’t last the next fight.

You reach for the other and she goes willingly, fingertips settling butterfly-light on you, her thumb to the heel of your hand, scars and nicks aligned. There’s something about it, about the skin, about the colder palm that rests quietly in yours, the mods sticking to your bones, and— yes, you like this the most; the way she lets you touch her, even if it’s just this, one kiss in the aftermath of violence and her wrists on display.

She breaks the silence not with a laugh or a sigh but a shake of her head, a suspicious cant of her eyes to yours, then away; blushed, accepting defeat. You smile, wash her wounds again with the slow repetition of old, small ritual and she knocks her ankle against yours, knee to knee.

“You’re a deeply troubled and troubling man, Ricardo Ortega.” She finally says, low and almost sweet, and there it is; a dimple beside her mouth, unwillingly surrendered, and the sight unfurls something achy and bruise-deep in your chest.

And the truth is, you can’t help yourself. “I love the way you say my name.”

“I swear—” a gasp, an exhale, her bandaged hand meeting her forehead, fissuring that barbed facade of sneers and razor-edged tongues. “You’re so fucking weird. Can’t you just take an insult like a normal person?”

“Oh, those were insults? But they sounded so sweet coming from you.” You reach for the bandages again. Repeat. Gauzy, featherlight loops around her flinching knuckles.

“God…”

“No need for that. Ricardo works just fine.”

“How about idiot?” And oh, you’ve got her soft, how’d you manage that? She’s red from her ears down her neck, flush disappearing beneath the black nanomesh, and you wait for her to smack your knee or bring a little teeth but all she does is squeeze your hand, nose scrunched jaw dimpled, melting, and your heart’s tattooing itself to the ribs—maybe you can get her to let you kiss her again, just to see what her lips feel like when they’re not red-slick with iron and sweat and fear. They were softer than you thought. Desperate, too. Almost as desperate as you, and fear’s a thrill a rush a jump but when you thought she’d ended up mashed on the pavement it—

“Only for you.” A tease or a confession and the most honest lie to cross your lips, you tuck the gauze but keep her hand, and she lets you, thumbs over the boundary line of your wrist. Strange. Almost intimate.

She pulls back just enough to trade places, snaring your hand between her own wounded ones, running circles around the emitter, fearless, unflinching, trusting, waiting. Always waiting and never staying long enough for an answer, like you could give her a straight one either way, like you even know what it is beyond aches and bruises and the pained gasp pressed to your lips when you pried her loose and held her tight, Psychopather gone on the ground, victory in the shape of her mouth.

Still, a skip runs down your spine as she massages down, down into the calloused meat of your hand, not even jumping at the kick of electricity, spiteful as blanket static.

“What, nothing stupid about kissing it better?” She mutters—disappointed?—and of course, how could you miss that chance—but she’s always been better about the plans, a thousand little ways to sidestep dancing around in that lovely skull of hers when all you want to do is charge right in, and as she pulls away you pull back, catch her gauzy, angry fists in your open palm.

She waits. Waits to see what you’ll do.

You watch, hold your breath, the biting grin gone now, mask shucked loose for a moment when she looks like that, soft and vulnerable in the white-gold light of your kitchen, and she could pull away if she wants, or careen forward, turn it into a punch, into a throttle.

But she doesn’t.

Her eyes really are pretty, warm brown like the slow burn of whiskey down your throat, and you keep them as you draw her hands up, bring those softened knuckles to your lips, feel the first twitches of a smile that you press lightly against her and— kissing—

And she raps the back of her fingers against your cheek, barely more than a tap, a reprimand and hey—! She jerks away, stands up, darts from your grasp, gone again. Moved too fast. You sigh, catch yourself, remember to smile.

“Idiot.” She scoffs, grabs her mask off the table, ducks her head like she’s expecting that soft hair to make a curtain, a shield, but it’s twisted back at the nape and you chuckle, lean back, because it looks like round two is yours again, and you want— you want—

She’s on the other side of the kitchen, working that mask back, turned away, and you don’t ask her to stay, you already know the answer, but fuck if you don’t love to watch her leave, if you can’t wait for round three.

#chargestep #ricardo ortega #sidestep #fallen hero #mywriting #shameless 'tenderness is stored in the hands' propaganda here #these idiots- desperately in love and not a thought between them #definitely used this mostly as an excuse to play with banter and the lighthearted almost flirting of two clowns that think fighting #definitely counts as a love language #(this is as tender as they get- at least for now. the idiots. <3)#hand over wound*

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yuzukult · 4 years ago

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effortlessly pt. 9 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader words: 5.0k genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut some chapters notes: this is more of a self-realization chapter, less of the romance :) oc development & one more chapter left before an epilogue!!!! thank you all for your support and patience, i know i took a while with this one, mostly because i really wanted to take a break and write something else. :)

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue

Yura’s cheeks are stuffed with the pastries from the bakery that was recommended by one of Jungkook’s teammates, something you’ve been meaning to take her to lately but with your mind flooded with thoughts on your future, there hasn’t been much time to dedicate to her.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” She’s eyeing you quizzically, uncomfortable with your distraught gaze. “You seem like you have something to say, so spit it.”

“I’m sorry,” You blurt with an agonizing frown. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“Why do you say that?”

Pushing the plate of baked goods away from you, your body slouches in the seat. The aroma of the flakey croissant beside the in-house made strawberry jam wasn’t appealing anymore and your previous conceptions stole away your appetite. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to be a cook.”

She rolls her eyes with a soft smile, shoving the plate back toward you. “Eat, loser.”

“Oh, come on. Stop acting like you’re not mad at me. I had no idea you were even going through anything—”

“Idiot, I’m not going through anything. I’m also not trying to be a cook. I’m trying to be a chef.” She corrects you, tearing off a piece of the croissant and bringing it to your lips. “Now take a bite of this, it’s crazy good.”

Abiding by her instruction, you open your mouth for her to feed you, chewing the soft pastry as it melts effortlessly on your tongue. “Good, right?” You nod in agreement. “I can’t help but think that I could’ve been there for you when you needed me the most. You were going through something, you were just as lost as I am.”

“Well, don’t feel bad. I kind of knew for a while, but I wasn’t sure. Sometimes we have to go through things alone to learn more about ourselves. Then Jungkook asked if I could help him with your little date, so I offered to do a picnic basket. It was for practice, and he seemed to be okay with it. How was the omelette?”

“Amazing. Which is why I was upset that I wasn’t a good enough friend to know that you cook so well.”

“Oh, please. Stop exaggerating... but really though. Was it that good?” Her eyes lit up at the compliment, emitting a chuckle from you. “It was, Yura. I’m seriously so proud of you. I wish I knew about your talents sooner.”

Yura’s kind and patient, the qualities in a friend that everyone searches for. She has developed into a person who you found yourself depending on, someone who you wanted to stay around to share both good and bad times. Knowing that you weren’t there when she potentially needed you only made you disappointed in yourself. It was your turn to return the actions she provided for you; it was your turn to be a good friend.

She’s rolling her eyes again, a smile appearing upon her lips. “I told you, this is nothing. I’m still learning things about myself, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out on anything.” You don’t believe her, but you take her words nonetheless, because you promise yourself and to her that from this day on, you’d try harder to be a better friend to her.

Walking out the café, a backpack slung over your shoulder, you glance at Yura who zips up her hoodie, snuggling in closer to the fabric to regain warmth as the night approaches along with the cool wind that blows in your direction. “Are you going to take the apprenticeship?”

“How’d you even hear about that?” You’re surprised she knows this; there hadn’t been much exchange between the two of you since the last time you hung out. Yura scoffs, shaking her head as she fixes the straps of her backpack, strolling down the street beside you. “I’m your best friend, of course I know about it.”

“Jungkook? Hoseok? Which one was it that spilled?”

“Jungkook,” She confirms, a playfully innocent grin glued to her face. “But that’s besides the point. You got an offer of a lifetime, what does that mean for you?” There's not much of a reaction from you, other than a slight shrug that you give her. It seemed great— getting an apprenticeship for a position that isn't for just anyone, but for you specifically. This was an endeavor that you never imagined yourself encountering. Goals and aspirations were a list to some people, especially Jungkook, but for you, that list hadn't been anything more than a title. So what did it mean to you, this opportunity that presented itself? "I don't know," You respond honestly, uncertain of what next steps to take. "I kind of am going through a dilemma." Yura raises a brow questioningly at you. "What is it?" You chew your bottom lip for a moment, trying to gather all your thoughts in a place before taking a deep breath of courage before exposing yourself to your friend. "Is it weird that I've been with Jungkook all my life, and now my so-called aspiration is on the same route of his?"

"Nobody is calling it that." "But if he's on the path of being a professional— what does it mean for me? Am I just a follower? Oh, Jungkook wants to be a professional swimmer, and now his girlfriend wants to do the same thing. How stupid does that sound?"

She shakes her head in disagreement, walking side by side with you along on the sidewalk, the sun slowly beginning to set whilst the wind makes its appearance again, sending chills down your spine. “Why does everything have to be about Jungkook? Why can’t it be about you for once? When you think of swimming, you think of Jungkook immediately, but why can’t you consider it being something you’re interested in?”

“Because Yura, I don’t know!” You exclaim, stopping in your tracks. It was hard, dreadfully hard making a decision that you weren’t sure of. You’re only in your teens, you think to yourself, at such a young age with the responsibility of making choices that may determine where your route is headed for the rest of your life. In all honesty, you want to cry; force yourself to shed all the tears even if you have to because the amount of pressure sitting on top of your shoulders was wearing you down.

You’re immensely grateful for the opportunity that just happened to land at your feet, but with a chance to do something big, you can’t help but feel that guilt eating you inside, wondering if this was truly what you wanted to do, and what if it wasn’t? Did it mean you took away the possibility of an experience from someone who yearned for it more than you did?

Yura ceases her steps, eyes meeting yours that were pools of pity. “It’s okay to not know. But you’re running out of time and have to pick what you want to do soon.”

“But Jungkook really wants me to do it.”

“Why do you care about what Jungkook thinks?”

Because Jungkook is the only person in my life whose opinions that I actually care about, is what you want to say to her, but it goes against all of the rules you’ve given yourself. You want to be independent, you want to be selfish in these moments that allowed you to, but at the end of the day, pleasing other people was a flaw you had never been able to grow out of.

“I don’t,” You lie, fiddling with the straps of your bag in between your nimble fingers. “I don’t care about what he thinks.”

She’s flabbergasted. “You absolutely do care. You care about what he thinks, and you’re afraid of disappointing him.” Yura says your name lovingly, in a tone that brings chills down your spine because she’s serious this time, a rarity in its form. “Please stop caring about what others think of you and make this decision on your own. There’s a chance that Jungkook won’t be with you at the end of this road, and you have to be prepared for it.”

“But it’s so freaking hard, Yura,” You finally admit, bending down to sit at the curb on the street. “I spent almost my entire life with Jungkook. My parents never approved of anything and weren’t ever happy with anything I did; he’s the one person who has supported anything I did and all I worry about is if he’s going to turn away like they did.”

“Did you just forget my existence again?” Yura interjects, sitting down beside you, giving you a slight nudge. “Listen, whether or not Jungkook decides to be by your side for this entire thing, I’m still here, right? It’s true, I can’t swoon you nor can I give you kisses because well, no offense, you’re not exactly my type—“ you snort, “—but I can be the friend portion here. You got me, you don’t need some boy you love, you have a friend.”

How crazy is it that you’re living in a fanfic trope? Your best friend from childhood is your neighbor, your first kiss, first time, first kiss... the list goes on.

So when you’re walking in the direction of where he stands in the parking lot of your high school, Jungkook’s car parked alongside his other teammates, while he leans against the hood of his car with the guys crowding around him. He looks like every other main character of a romantic film; hair slicked back, changed out of his uniform and swim clothes, now in a t-shirt that’s tight around his frame paired with light washed denim pants with tears and rips that hugs his thighs so deliciously. The laugh that escapes his lips is melodic, melting your heart seeing how happy he looks just by being with his friends.

You’re going to miss the hell out of this if he’s disappointed in your decision.

Approaching the group, the guys holler at the sight of you. “Hey! You’re finally here! Jungkook refuses to leave without you, so we’ve been waiting around until you came.”

“Were you?” You ask, eyes meeting your boyfriend. “Are you waiting for something in particular?”

Jungkook glances at the guys before back at you nervously, palms getting sweaty. “Uh... how do you feel about coming with us tonight?”

“Where to?”

Hoseok snorts from behind, almost bursting into laughter at how anxious Jungkook is around you. It’s cute, really, because despite officially together, he still acts as though he’s pining over his crush on you. “Oh, come on, it’s not hard to ask, just ask her!” Jimin adds into the push by actually pushing him.

Jungkook stumbles closer to you, slightly breathless. “So... there’s this party tonight...”

You giggle— mostly because he seems as smitten with you as you are with him. “Jeon, are you trying to ask me to be your date to a party or something? Why are you jittery?”

He is. And he can’t help but feel like his heart quickens whenever he sees you in a skirt and your hair down, first few buttons of your uniform unfastened and blazer hanging off your arm. Even in makeup that’s been on for 8 hours straight, he thinks you’re pretty. “Yeah,” his response is airy, “I’m hoping we could set aside a sleepover and head over to Hoseok’s place tonight to blow off some steam. How’s that sound?” Chuckling at his lack of confidence in the question, you nod in agreement. “Okay, that sounds great. When are we heading out?”

Getting ready for the party proves to be one of the most nerve-wreaking things you’ve done in a while, including that apprenticeship offer.

“Why why why are these jeans so tight?”

“This dress shows my belly rolls.”

You’re patting the fabric that’s wrinkled around your stomach region as you sigh when you see the sideview of your body in the mirror. “I should workout. Does Jungkook find this attractive?”

“And this skirt is too short. It shows my freaking underwear.” Bending over in the mirror to see yourself from behind, you grumble at the sight.

“Wait— turn over here, I want to see.”

“Holy—“ Flinching in the direction of the voice, you place a hand on your chest to ease your breathing; Jungkook sitting at his window sill, hair let loose, fresh from a wash, still dressed in his sweats. “You look cute in that. Twirl for me. Oh, and bend over too.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not going to bend over for you, Jeon.” He frowns. “Why not? I want to see what color your panties are.” Just when you’re ready to drop the blinds on him, he has his hand out. “Wait wait wait, don’t close it. Wear those jeans you wore the other day. And that black t-shirt. I think you look pretty even in casual clothes.”

While searching in your closet for said outfit, he stays seated by the window, resting his chin on his arm. “So... can we talk about break?”

“Uh, sure,” You respond, only half paying attention as you’re shuffling through the tremendous amount of clothes you have, the space between your brows crinkling in focus. “What about it?”

“So... the team and I had these plans to go on a lake trip...”

“Okay...?”

“And it’s an all guys trip.” He finishes, finally getting to the point. “I know we talked about the possibility of spending break together—“

“You should go, Bub.” You interrupt, eyes soon lighting up when you find the shirt, then meeting with his gaze. “I think it’ll be good for you. We’re not going to be in high school forever and you guys might separate when you get to college.”

Jungkook thinks he hit the jackpot with you. From your understanding nature, to your independence, support... all the qualities you had were stacked up on the pros pile for him. “You’ll be okay? Without me?”

He asks this question and it stings a bit. You know he doesn��t mean it in that way but you can’t help but think about it in that direction. There had been a lot of dependency on Jungkook throughout your friendship; hardship, accomplishments, direction of your dreams— he’d be there for all, guiding you and lifting you up. But did he think that you wouldn’t be able to be without him?

“I’ll be fine,” You reply, attempting to hide the disappointment in your voice. Head peeking out the window, you grin mischievously. “Well, I’m going to get ready now... so...” Quickly backing away, you shut the blinds immediately, and Jungkook groans. “I wanted to see a show!”

Arriving at the party with Jungkook by your side is more than an accessory— he’s the main point of an outfit. You learn that he wanted you to wear that t-shirt just because he wanted to match with you, knowing that you’d oppose it but would be too lazy to even change afterwards.

“You guys came!” Hoseok cries, weaving his way through the crowd of people while having to raise his voice for you to hear. He has a solo cup in hand, liquid sloshing around as people push and shove around him. “Go to the kitchen! Grab a drink!”

To two of you do, eventually Jungkook being pulled away by friends, chatting up a storm with his face slowly growing crimson from his asian flush. Deciding that it was a night to enjoy yourself, you play around with the ingredients from his fridge, cooking yourself up a mojito.

“Are you making a mojito? Can I join and make myself one too?”

“Sure,” You grin, looking up at the stranger. “Help yourself.”

This girl is absolutely gorgeous. Hair jet black and straight, stretching to her lower back with skin milky smooth and makeup done effortlessly naturally, with a body so slim and appealing in her body-con dress, a sight for sore eyes, you’re suddenly boiling inside because you’re wishing it was you. You learn her name is Somin, a University student who attended your high school last year, friends with the swim team but you never met her before.

“So, what brings you here?” She asks, searching through the drawers for a knife. “You don’t seem like the type to go to parties.”

Rinsing a couple limes under the faucet beside her, you nod. “Yeah, I’m not. Got dragged here so I guess I’m left with no choice. What about you? Trying to get away tonight?”

She laughs, so feminine and light. “Actually, trying to get closer. There’s a guy I’ve had my eyes on for the longest time. His mom and mine used to be friends so I saw me occasionally. I mentioned that I was in love with him and he freaked and left. But! I heard from Hoseok that he was coming tonight, so I’m hoping I get to see him.”

“Ah,” You respond, mouth open while taking the knife from her hands, slicing the lime into pieces. “Well, I wish you luck. I know how that feels.”

“Wait!” She exclaims, nudging you as you wince, startled and almost cutting yourself by her sudden action. “He’s coming!” Looking from the cutting board laying on the island counter, your eyes trail up to see the familiar figure walking toward the two of you as Somin waves eagerly. “Jungkook!”

She’s in love with Jungkook? When the hell did she know him?

“Oh, Somin!” He greets, smile so wide from the amount of alcohol in him. “I didn’t know you were here. I see you’ve met my girlfriend.” Well, how awkward. Somin turns to look at you, mouth agape, shunned. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah!” He’s almost yelling in your ear now, rounding the counter to pull you close with a hand on your waist. “The love of my life. Isn’t she so cute?” Your lips tug into a painful smile, apologetic toward Somin. How is it that every female you encounter just so happens to be so in love with Jeon Jungkook?

You can’t even blame them, in all honestly. He’s handsome, generous, has a car and can drive, a freaking athlete, and he can sing. This guy was the entire package and he hasn’t even graduated high school yet. Forget high school girls chasing after him, Jungkook already had college girls swooning and it’s left you wondering what it’d be like once the two of you head to University.

That night home, you drive. Deciding to spend the night taking care of him since he seemed totally wasted, you’re on route to his house while pondering deeply about the events of the night.

“What’s going on in your head, bubba?” Despite the amount of slurs that slip from his mouth that night, he’s oddly stable.

“Bubba?” You laugh at the new nickname. “Uh, just some stuff.”

“Be honest?” He asks, looking over at you with glassy eyes as his head is laid back against the seat. “I wanna hear what you’re thinking about. I like hearing you talk.”

Licking your lips, you’re having an inner debate on whether or not to let Jungkook in on your thoughts. Succumbing to his request, you sigh because communication is important in a relationship. On the bright side, he might forget about this conversation tomorrow anyways.

“The girl earlier tonight? Somin? She told me she was in love with you.”

“Huh?” He seems just as surprised at this new information. “That’s crazy. We used to hang out during Sundays when my mom would force me to go to church. Then I got old enough to decide if I wanted to go or not.”

You hum, stopping the car at the red light. “Well, it had me thinking. We’re going off to college soon. What does that mean for us? You’d have girls dropping at your feet, completely smitten with you. What if I end up at another college?”

“We’ll figure it out then. But I know how much I’m in love with you, whatever you do and wherever you go. I’ll be sad if I can’t follow you or you follow me to college, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Although he’s slow when he speaks, he finishes off what’s on his own mind before drifting off into slumber before you could even chime in a response.

A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts.

It takes a lot of soul searching.

You’ve spent a week away from everyone— Yura, your family, everyone, even Jungkook. He thinks he did something wrong but you assure him that he hasn’t, rather that you needed some time for yourself. Coincidentally enough, that week was break; Jungkook and his teammates had a vacation planned and Yura picked up a part-time job at a bakery anyway.

Maybe it’s the breeze from the salty sea, the humidity sticking to your skin or the taste of the strawberry ice cream that hits your tongue, but the air feels lighter here. Inhaling in the fresh aroma the beach brings, it brings you back to when you came here last time with Jungkook and he professes his love. It brings a smile that tugs on the edges of your lips, a memory that you would never forget, your first love reciprocating his feelings for you.

“Oh, did you drop this?”

Quickly turning, you realize that what was in the hands of the person in front of you is your wallet—how irresponsible do you have to be that you dropped your wallet and didn’t even notice? “Oh my gosh, fuck, it’s my wallet!” You call out, grabbing it from their grasp before meeting eyes with them. “Thank you, I wouldn’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t find it!”

The person waves you off, a grin drawn across the face of a male, cheeks so supple and milky smooth. “Think nothing of it. Be careful though, there’s a lot of pickpocketers around here.”

You nod in agreement, lips pressed in a straight line, slightly disappointed in yourself. It’s like he reads your mind because he then says, “It’s okay though. It happens to the best of us.”

“Can I at least get you something for not robbing me? And my fate being that you so happen to not be a pickpocketer?”

The guy laughs; something about the warmness he radiates makes you trust him, fraternizing with this stranger with qualities of a sweet friend. Something about Junmyeon makes you fearless, trusting him enough to propose the idea of treating him out to anything for being a good samaritan.

You learn that his name was Junmyeon, and he’s way older than you in comparison, but he has a lot of words of wisdom to share. After a lot of convincing, Junmyeon takes your offer for a cup of coffee—iced please, he begs, and in exchange, he in addition, tells you about his life like a middle-aged man.

He’s only 29.

“You’ve got a couple years ahead of me,” You begin, and it only sparks Junmyeon to raise a brow at you questioningly. “I’m stuck in a dilemma. How did you know what you wanted to do in life?”

Junmyeon chortles, mostly because he finds it interesting that you seem to think he has his shit together. The both of you had decided to take your cool drinks out on one of the benches on the boardwalk that faces the water. “You realize that I’m just twenty-nine right, not ninety-two?” You blink in confusion at his light-hearted joke, watching the sunset behind him. He continues on, “It means that I’m not that old, kiddo. I’m a bit older than you. And despite what you think, I don’t have my shit together.”

“Well, what did you do?”

“Well,” He starts, imitating your own words against you, “for one, I graduated college at the age of twenty-three. With a degree I didn’t end up using, by the way, and decided that the best thing for me at the time was to follow this girl that I was head over heels with. That being said, it didn’t end very well. Fast forward to today, I’m back in school trying to get my PhD... in a completely different field than what you’d expect.” Reminiscing back to his past mistakes, he shakes his head in disbelief. “There are just things you should be selfish about, and it took me a while to finally get that.”

“How did you decide on those things? And how do I decide what I want to do?”

“Well, for one, if you’re really hesitant about it, you probably don’t want it.”

And that’s when it hits.

A day at the beach alone, meeting a stranger who finds your wallet and gifts you words of advice was more of a helpful trip than expected.

“You... got really tan?”

“You can be honest. I know I’m more red than tan.” You stifle a laugh, watching from his bed as Jungkook enters his room with his bags, waddling around to unpack his belongings from his trip. He’s in so much pain, and not to mention crimson red like he’s Santa’s suit, mostly from forgetting to put on sunscreen despite the many exchanged texts reminding him to remember to put on SPF. Turns out the entire team was burnt as well.

Browsing through a magazine that you found on his bedside table, you smile at the sight of your boyfriend wincing while sitting on the carpeted floor, attempting to unzip his duffle bag. “I didn’t know you were still shy seeing me. You’re all red and blushy.” You joke, leaning over to tap his nose, only for him to groan in agony. “Baby, I love seeing you, but I’m resenting asking you to come over.”

You gasp in feign surprise with a hand on your chest in exaggeration. “Jeon Jungkook, you couldn’t possibly mean that, could you?”

He throws a dirty t-shirt at you in hopes it lands on your face, and lucky for him, it shoots his target.. “Bullseye,” He says, content with his shot. “I worked out in that, just so you know.” Grimacing and tossing it back at him, he lets out a chuckle at your disgust. “That was horrible. It reeks.”

“Speaking of horrible, I couldn’t believe we didn’t spend the break together. I know it sucked without me. How was your week away?”

You roll your eyes, opening a drawer to drop the magazine back into it. “You’re the one who made plans, lover boy, with your group of other boys. But it was great, I think I learned a lot of things about myself.”

“That’s a step in the right direction. What’d you do in that time?”

Where to even start? Do you tell him about Junmyeon? What about the weather down the shore—humid and sticky, just how Jungkook likes it— or maybe that funnel cake you got to try that was so sweet and melted on the tip of your tongue? Or would that defeat the purpose and he’d be sad he missed out on that?

“I met someone,” is the words you manage to formulate out of your mouth, and the expression on his face is distorted in shock. “Oh— wait, not like that, I just met someone at the beach and they became a friend.”

“Scare a guy to the point of breaking his heart, why don’t you?” He’s stopped to listen to you in the midst of packing, attention fully yours. “So, what about this friend?”

Leaning against the bed frame, you take a moment to let your mind sink into your thoughts. There’s a lot to unpack, more than what’s in Jungkook’s duffle bag that’s similar to a clown car, but you want to do this right. “He gave me some life advice. He’s a bit older and gave me some guidance that could help me on what next steps I should be taking.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to make a decision?”

You chew on your bottom lip. In the end, you know that whatever you choose is solely based on your happiness but you can’t help but worry about what Jungkook thinks. “I think I am. What do you think I should do?” Maybe you should test the waters first.

He wrinkles his brows in perplexity. “What do you mean?”

You shrug at this question. “What do you think I should choose?”

Jungkook stops pulling things from his bag, eyes locking with yours and you feel your chest tighten at the serious shift in the atmosphere. “You’re not really asking me this, are you?” Now you’re the confused one. “What?”

“I don’t care what you choose. I mean, I care, but I don’t care as in I won’t be upset if you rather do one thing over the other. Is this what’s bothering you? Do you feel guilty about all of this? I told you, I’m always here for you, even when I’m trying to drill that into your head it seems like you don’t get it.”

“So...”

“So if you said that you didn’t want the apprenticeship, I wouldn’t be opposed to you going another route. Vice versa, same result. We’ve been together our entire lives, it would take a lot for me to actually upset with you. I just need you to be honest.”

Your heart swells. If anything, that’s all you really wanted— his support.

Sitting in the seat that you presumed that Jungkook had sat in when he’d gotten his offer, you feel slightly uneasy finding yourself in this situation. The room is filled with cases of books, most that you’ve never heard or seen before; the unfamiliarity churning a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. There’s even a fireplace in this office, a portrait of what seems to be one of the founders of the university that hangs over it, and a fuzzy... bear rug that lays in front of it.

The recruiter closes the door behind her, striding to her desk before settling down in her large swivel chair that only seems to make her look even more powerful than she was already.

“So,” She begins, straightening the pile of papers on her desk. “You’re here to talk about the offer?”

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #gyukultfics #highschool!au #bts high school au #f2l #jeon jungkook

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