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papaver-decervicatus · 1 year

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Cat/Mouse/Den: Pt. 4, Mus Urbanus

Fatal attraction is one thing but stuck on a stakeout, a certain little mouse decides to push her luck with the cat who's been chasing her... just how far is too far, and how much more can they take?

CW: Obsession, stalking, canon typical violence, intrusive thoughts, unsanitary wound care

Authors Note: Hahaha, remember how I said I was going to do shorter updates? Yeah well, I felt really bad for missing the previous week but I did have a lot of terrible IRL shit happen, so working through that was a priority. That being said, going back through all the amazing comments and everything everyone has written has been absolutely keeping me afloat! Thank you all so so so so so much, you will never know how much it all means to me.

There are a couple of Hannibal references in this part that, hopefully, will start to make sense by the last part of the story (which was, coincidentally, the first part written!) Not going to lie, I am just glad to publish this so I never have to think about this damned part again as I have been stuck on in for literal months. Also sorry if Soap's accent sucks, the only experience I have with anything remotely Scottish in the way of language tendency is my grandmother whose father was a Scottish immigrant and that's it.

Anyways, I hope you like agnst and interrogation scenes, because next week, König loses his faith in god and in mouse while tied to a chair! See you there!

❣️Cura ut Veleas ~ Caedis 🥀

PREV | Pt. 4 Mus Urbanus | 4.2k words | Mouse POV | NEXT

“Mouse?” A voice from in front of her calls out, but only after she deliberately drags her feet into the threshold of the neutral ground, alerting him of her presence.

“Quiet as a.” She utters her usual response, stepping into the little flat in Buenos Aries, Argentina. She hears the smile as Soap sucks in a breath at her little joke. Her callback should be old by now, shouldn’t make him smile anymore, but he does anyway. He’s easy to get along with, something hard to come by in war. She crosses the minimal space between the two and takes stock of his little setup.

For a mission, it’s luxurious. He’s sitting, in a chair might she add, with a scope poking barely out of an antique window on the 7th floor of an apartment building, looking into a busy market square. His arms rest on a table littered with little signs of life, a map of the area adorned with notes and coordinates in inexpensive ink, no less than 7 pens whose caps are chewed through (everyone’s got bad habits but this little sin of his drives poor Price up and down the goddamn wall), two disposable cups with sediment rings denoting how much instant coffee was drunk from them at a time before they returned to their places besides their drinker. Most notably, however, are two radios in a strange moment of near fornication– backs ripped open and wires crossed in an almost pornographic display of field ingenuity.

Damn demolition specialists, she hears the echo of Gaz say in her head and she absentmindedly rubs the scabbed over cut on her left hand where the shrapnel of a certain someone’s frag grenade got her two weeks ago. She wants to be mad but-

“Hear any good ones, lately?” Soap turns to her, he’s disengaging from his post, changing his guard for her to take his spot, just as command ordered. He’s been in this little nest for about 6 hours and she can feel his desire to scuttle and tinker about radiating off of him. As he takes apart his gun, already aware and familiar that she refuses to use anyone’s but her own, his eyes shine to life. The color of sky blue permafrost, yet they radiate a certain lived-in warmth impossible to distance yourself from. Eyes almost like-

She bites her tongue at the thought. Bad time to be thinking about König… she mourns. But, speaking of the man.

“Yes, but it’s bad,” she offers, in fake warning as she sheds her outer jacket before moving to unhook the case that stands between her and the assembly of her gun. She knows the warning will only intrigue the poor pyrotechnic more.

His smile is nothing short of sadistic as he raises an eyebrow.

“No, like, really bad,” she emphasizes, throwing a pleading look his way. His grin gets even more shit-eating-er if that sort of thing were even possible. “I mean it, MacTavish. Pass it along to your long-suffering Lieutenant, and you will be picking teeth out of your shit.” “I’m sure I’ve done worse to Ghost,” he supplies, rolling his shoulders. Yeah, I’m sure you have, she thinks but is much too self-preserving to say, especially aware that the Frankenstien’s monster of a radio he’s resurrected from two dead circuit boards is likely not secure enough to promise any real privacy. She would rather not alert Simon Riley that she’s become a dealer in his and Soap’s arm’s race of terrible jokes. He does not take prisoners, after all…

“Alright, alright, just don’t tell him it’s from me,” she smiles, putting her hands up defensively in a quick jest. “Okay, play along with me now,” he nods along as he steps away from the perch and lets her take his spot at the table.

“So, what's the difference between a piano, a fish, and a gluestick?”

“I know about two-thirds o’ this one.”

Mouse trap baited. She smiles.

“Give it a go, then.” She wiggles in the chair, pressing her cheek to the crux of the sight and its metal holder. She sighs into the familiar feeling of control that settles into her bones as she hunches over.

“Can tuna piano but’cha can’t tuna fish?” He supplies, half teasing her already.

“Yep, but you’re forgetting something.” She sighs and goes to fiddle with the red-light optics extension, Command is confident enough in her abilities that she was specifically told to take it off for this one. She hears Soap whisper a quiet ‘oh shite’ behind her when he realizes he probably forgot to himself and she laughs a little.

“What about the glue?”

Mouse trap set. Poor Soap, always getting himself into ambushes…

She smiles wide and hums remembering how excited her kitty-cat was to tell her this part.

“See, I knew you’d get stuck on that one.”

Mouse trap sprung. A moment of silence.

“Oh fuck me, that one is bad.” Soap chokes out a hearty laugh as he collects his discarded coffee cups from her side.

“No thanks,” she purrs as she finally sets herself into position. “Use it at your discretion, soldier.”

“Aye, that I will.”

Soap goes to rummage through the kitchenette to her right and she takes the moment she lacks supervision to indulge herself. She does not move her sights to alert the man with her of the wandering of her eyes, instead, she scans windows and alleys without visual aid. The stale air threatens to choke her as she rakes over the golden-hued morning scene with desperate efficiency.

After what feels like an eternity of stolen glances switching between her targeted area and anywhere he may be, she sees him.

Technically, she has no way to know for certain that it’s König, she doesn’t have his usual wave or cheeky grin (affectionately referred to as a Cheshire Cat Smile in her own belabored heart) to alert her to his presence. That being considered, there is a masculine figure barely peeking out of a window into an alleyway who is just shy of 7 feet tall and his face is covered. Yeah, probably König. She smiles despite herself and her company. She wonders if he has radio access to her little hideout.

(She remembers the seemingly endless weeks of his arrival to her perch. The early morning light hits the streets the same way it had hit the forest ground that day. Like a fairy tale prince, beseeching a princess on hand and knee, he would always somehow appear in her sights, nearly as though it was just meant to be!

His form stands out tall and proud from its surroundings and she recounts every single reason he should not be here. By the third time their eyes caught she’d decided he was doing it on purpose, but she never let him get away with it without some acknowledgment on her side. She can only imagine that if she’s getting hunted for sport, her calling out his position will, at least temporarily, halt his advance.

But by this rate, she’ll be in his mouth by the end of the year.

His eyes are cold and bloodshot red. Painted tears lick their way down the hood she’s never seen him without, possibly a feeble attempt at impersonality? Maybe if he looks enough like a monster people will just trust their first assumption and leave him alone. But she’s never been one to judge a book by its cover…

“I see you, König.” She warns out to him. He stills among the foliage, bathed in sweet-honey-like warmth from the rising sun. He does not shy away from his imminent death on the business end of her rifle, of course not! Instead, he raises his chest proudly, seemingly aware that the loneliness in her yields to whatever greater magnetism the loneliness in him commands. He’s an enigma, it bothers her that of all the people to put the effort into finding her, it has to be him. Mostly she curses herself for promising him a next time all those encounters ago, if she’d known what sort of a game it would inspire in the predator stalking her like prey despite her flipping sniper rifle, she never would have said a thing.

He may be in her scope, but he’s got her under a finer microscope to seek her out so faithfully. She wishes she got this sort of dizzying devotion from someone, anyone else. It is the third day this week he has found her.

What she expects to happen is what has happened for weeks now, 1) he hears her transmission, 2) he smiles at her as a predator smiles at pray, his eyes find hers and her hackles rise in utter terror, and 3) he hums to himself and turns away, self-satisfied enough to have won hide-and-seek for the time being.

That does not happen.

Instead, König sits down, right where he is, and pulls out that monster of a knife he keeps strapped to himself. He throws it up and catches it without looking at it, instead his eyes are laser-focused on Mouse. This is, of course, despite the fact he should have no earthly idea where she is. He plays with his knife idly for what must be an hour, but she does not- no, can not- look away from him.

She remembers her trigger finger twitching with sinful power, she remembers choking back the insistence at killing another lonely person, devoid of their autonomy on a basic level when they signed up for a mercenary-issued ticket to hell.

She remembers hopelessness. She remembers refusal. She remembers the smile reaching his eyes when she played along with his joke.

“Why don’t rats like cats?” Her radio labors out.

She half forgot what his voice sounded like, surprisingly excitable and shrill for a man of his stature. Her brain stutters around the implication of the only words she’s heard him say to her since the fateful ravine that gained Mouse her own personal 6’10” shadow.

She blinks a few times in surprise, genuinely pondering if her long hours hiking through the woods have made her susceptible to hallucination and general hysteria. She is not thinking when she timidly responds-

“Why?”

“Because they are weapons of maus-destruction.” Konig replies like it’s not the stupidest thing she’s ever heard in her goddamn life. Perhaps it's pity at the memory of his discomfort around his comrades. Of the thought of the way he tries to make his body so small when around others (truly an impossible task he routinely fails.) Maybe it’s irrational fear, twofold and buried in her instinct to shoot despite the clear disadvantage on his behalf and her insistence that she does not do her damn job, or fear of the inhuman man in front of her stalking her through the woods. Or it could be discomfort, no one ever prepared her for dealing with whatever the fuck this is in basic training or field school. In the end, it doesn’t really matter what it is.

In the sparkling, decadent light of a sunrise, her heart hammers in her throat at the first joke he’d told her, in some strange and desperate attempt to fill the meters of silence between them.

She laughs.

And he hears it.

And with his wide stance, his ghastly executioner’s hood in the place of a crown, and his knife back in its holster- his beautiful eyes seem to smile. Suddenly, his eyes look lived in, like someone has just put up new curtains in an abandoned house. His whole affect changes hinging on what was an irresponsible outburst on her behalf at best.

And for the first time, she does not fear a monster hunting her through the woods, silent and purposeful in his pursuit of prey. Instead, she wants to understand a man, whose eyes have lit up like a princess has just laughed when he kissed her hand.)

Soap wanders back into her small perch with two cups of coffee and sets one down next to her. She takes a quick glance and hums with appreciation. He takes another sip out of his and she remembers that they’re supposed to share shift for about an hour before his rotation ends.

“You treat all your girls to coffee in the morning?” She quips.

“Only the pretty ones,” he returns with an effortless charisma and her breath catches.

Not because of Soap, but because in that alleyway, where she really shouldn’t be looking, she sees the uneasy rise of two massive shoulders and-

Oh my god, did König just… get jealous?

The next idea she has is downright evil, really this is not the place or the time or any of that but-

Fuck it. She’s already flirting with the enemy, what more could this do? She’s already told the poor mountain of a man something dangerously adjacent to “God I really missed you when we didn’t talk to each other for three weeks like a horny teenager and by the way I love you desperately and think about you when I’ve got my hands down my pants,” and she probably imagined him tensing up, anyways. No harm, no foul.

Maybe, it's dangerous, to wave a steak in front of a mountain lion, but what if she wants to get mauled?

“Hey Soap, what page are you on?” She says, putting her terrible plan into action. She sees him look up from his report, or more likely an idle sketch, on her periphery.

“Ah, only the second chapter, did'ya move my bookmark?”

“Nope, the book’s in the leftmost pocket in my duffle.”

“Thank ya,” He says and moves from his spot to go fetch the book from it. She takes a quick sip of her coffee, delighted to realize he’s made it to her specifications as far as milk and sugar go, as he rummages around in her bag.

The impromptu book club started nearly eight months ago when Nova passed her copy of Emma by Jane Austen off to Gromsko to help him with his English. That turned into Mouse recommending the book Jane Eyre to Nova on the pure suspicion that she would hate it, which she did. Gromsko still needed to practice and enjoyed the spirited discussions so he joined the blossoming group with an English copy of The Doll by Aleksander Głowacki after he finished Jane Eyre. Never one to be left out, and surprisingly well-read when he wanted to be, Soap had pitched the idea of The Lord of the Flies (because to quote “Fucking Brits,” and he wanted to subject others to his high-school reading list.) If she remembered correctly, Farah and Reyes had also started sharing copies of books they enjoyed occasionally.

“Can’t believe it was Gromsko that put it in rotation.” Soap says, pulling out a well-worn copy of The Silence of the Lambs from the bag.

“He said he picked it up years ago in Polish thinking it was a cooking field guide.” She offers, as the man next to her idly thumbs through pages.

“Yer shitting me, yeah?”

She just shakes her head and smiles into her scope. Soap laughs and removes his homemade bookmark, a pencil sketch of a stake-out view somewhere in Mexico scribbled onto scrap paper. He keeps his thumb on the page and flips through to where hers is, much further along.

“Yer a right romantic, ain’cha Bonnie?” Soap laughs somewhere between the pages and somewhere behind her. “Hmm?”

“This part, that’ya highlighted,” she hears a well-meaning sneer in his words. “The one you put the hearts by and everything…”

Mouse’s mouth tethers itself into a terse line and she attempts her best noncommittal shrug.

Somewhere in her line of sight, a mountain shrugs himself chuckling lightly. She wonders what it would feel like, to lay on his broad, muscled chest as he laughs, how closely he would hold her, how she could rest entirely on top of his chest and not touch the ground beneath them and-

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” She lies through her teeth. Soap’s laugh behind her is loud and proud. Suddenly, his casual sadism isn’t so amusing when turned around on her.

“Do you think it's because I like to look at you and think about eating you up—“ he reads from the book, voice dripping in mock chivalry and breathless romanticism. “About how you would taste?"

She feels her cheeks and ears heat up as Soap loudly proclaims her funeral to all those who may care, and she doesn’t miss the way König leans a little too close to his radio as he goes about mocking her. His stance shifts as if he hangs on the very words like he’s found a secret buried deep in her subconscious. Technically, she has no way of knowing, but Mouse knows in her heart that König is smiling. At least someone is having fun.

Once Soap comes down from his laughing fit he puts her bookmark back to its spot and talks at the back of her head.

“With your pressed flower bookmark and everything. Oh, it would be sweet if he wasn’t Hannibal the Cannibal.” Soap hisses out. “I always figured you were…” he pauses searching for the right word, “adventurous from how Gromsko talks bout ya, but seriously cannibalism?”

If she’s not mistaken, König’s hand grips ever so slightly tighter on the radio attached to the best. Maybe the battle plan has to change, but she’s still got some ideas.

Soap is completely oblivious to the electricity licking up the air between her perch and one man on the ground. He looks around frantically, seemingly desperate to find her, and look in her eyes. Mouse is a sniper, she really should hate the attention, but something fatalistic descends into her smile as she lets Soap continue his little outburst.

“I swear. You and him, yer sure there’s nothing there? He’s even given you special field medicine lessons, no one gets treatment like that from Gromsko.”

“His name is Sobieslaw.” Notably, it is not a denial. Technically, everything that’s just been said is the truth.

König’s shoulders rise.

He looks right down her site.

She smiles.

Come and get me, kitty-cat.

“See! That’s what I’m talking about. You’re the only person who calls him by his first name.”

“Because you never put in the effort to learn it.”

“That don’t mean a thing since I don’t have tits.”

“You do, just not as good as mine.”

“Aye, off it. Gromsko is into you.” She can hear from the way Soap’s voice carries haphazardly around the room that he is pacing and talking with his hands. She doesn’t turn her back, gaze still fixated on the looming shadow in her sights. Soap continues, entirely unaware of the exact type of beast he is tempting. “He swaggers around you, never even bothers to fucking ask to pick up your boxes, he just does it. His voice gets all soft around ya, too, like he’s cooing at a goddamn pet animal or something. He nearly got into an actual pissing contest with Ghost the other day when he bitched about you beating him in poker. Face the facts, Bonnie, he wants you.”

König’s eyes have focused with the ferocity of an apex predator and his chest labors out concentrated and sharp inhales and exhales. He resembles a recently sharpened knife, desperate for some carnage after a particular kind of attention. His body is crumpled in on itself not unlike a cat getting ready to pounce. His heels dig desperately into the cobblestones beneath his feet. His hand flicks out his beloved Glock field knife with all the reverence of a praying man.

In short, he looks every part like he does in immediate battle. He looks like he did the split second before he started sprinting for her in the snowy woods, the scene that occupies her lonely nights when she tries in complete vanity to recreate the feel of his hands cradling her sides.

Mouse should be scared of König.

Instead, she sees before her a scene of complete and hopeless adoration focused so intently on her alone that she should be afraid of. Realistically, she recognizes the clear and present danger of the moment. Is König upset at her? At Soap? At a potential adversarial suitor by way of Gromsko? She doesn’t quite know, but after a career of intentionally hiding like a coward, she basks infatuated by the calamitous captivation he exhibits.

He looks like he wants to maul something to death.

As keen as she is on getting him close enough to try to get over to her (and ideally, throw her under him,) in her infinite mercy, Mouse decides the teasing has gone on long enough.

“I like Gromsko just fine, but not like that.” Soap audibly scoffs and König’s entire form relaxes. Both men mutter something to themselves before an encore of gunfire breaks out. Mouse’s heart stutters to a stop when her radio comes in.

“Visual on Gaz, he’s hit!” Nova calls out, clearly alarmed. Soap grabs for the radio right next to Mouse and brings it to his face, holding onto a few loose wires as he does to ensure the amalgamation does not fall apart in his fingers.

“Where is he?”

“Two blocks from south from you, Gromsko is a click out.”

Soap looks at Mouse with his heart bobbing in his throat. The pain and worry on his face is palpable.

“Go.” She says. Soap looks around frantically at their supplies, seemingly taking a split second worth of inventory, making as many life-or-death decisions as he can in such little time.

“Soap, listen to me,” Mouse soothes. “I keep overwatch, you take my TAC vest and stabilize him until he can get a medic.”

“Mouse, I can’t just leave you-” “You can, and you will. Go.” She says with all the finality of a door slamming shut. Soap doesn’t look at her again as he gathers her supplies and nearly sprints downstairs.

Soap leaves. Quickly. Quietly. He never looks back.

Her stomach settles into discomfort and she looks through the door he closed with the same sad nostalgia she looked through falling snow and monumentous trees. She can’t help but think she would not get the same priority in Gaz’s situation. Like some terrible premonition, she imagines bleeding out on the ground as Soap turns away, never once looking back.

Would König come for me? She ponders, before she smothers the paranoia-induced delusion with the memory of his large hands on her sides. She looks down at her shoelace, where she carved a cylindrical hole through his effigy to attach it. The birchwood mouse carving that sleeps at her right toe gives a silent reassurance: he never really left you, did he?

By the time she looks back into her scope, in between the all-too-familiar white noise of war that’s broken out around her, she sees a shadow dart out from the alleyway one down from where König is. The figure is cloaked in the specific type of military fatigue denoting his affiliation, one that is unluckily for him, kill on sight. It ducks behind the building to the right, where König is. It stalks out, lining itself up behind the hooded man, brandishing a drawn pistol.

König doesn’t have the time to react to the blood spray that litters across his back from the other man’s head once Mouse pulls the trigger on her gun, silently thankful (as awful as it is,) that Gaz getting hurt allowed her to take the shot without Soap inquiring into her actions. (But maybe it’s her fault in the first place that König was distracted enough to allow someone to get the drop on him…)

König looks back towards her and his head lulls to the side like a heavy flower bloom weighed down by morning dew. His eyes, somehow the softest she’s ever seen, are also carving a large chunk of her soul like a knife cuts through soft wood. When he lifts his hood to blow a kiss to her, she knows she will never get her traitorous heart back.

“Danke, mein Engel,” the radio on her table whispers in his voice.

“It’s only fair. I did owe you, after all.” She responds, all together unconcerned with whether or not he can hear her. She smiles, thankful she can see those bright eyes another day.

When he turns away, she feels her entire heart walk away with him. With every step of his fleeting form, she feels less and less herself, as though someone had separated her shadow from where it meets her feet. Something has changed in the air between them, a sad resignation settles into her trigger finger when she releases it.

For the first time, she does not feel as though she wouldn’t run if he took her, but rather that some integral part of her is with him as he leaves.

All is fair in love and war, but she’s not sure just how much longer she can stand to play cat and mouse.

taglist!

@kneelingshadowsalome @sprout-fics @bucca2 @dead-cipher @gallowsjoker @lostagoodcigar @berryjuicyy @haisebo @crowbird

And special thanks to @bucca2 and @ivymarquis for finally kicking my ass into gear to write this. Can't wait to read yall's WIPs!

#Navigation -> Cat/Mouse/Den #König #König x reader #König x OC #König MWii #König COD #Char: Mouse

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shatcey · 8 months

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William Rex

William's route was indeed created to be the first. There are a lot of interactions with other characters so you can easily figure out who they are. William explains their curses and abilities, and you can see how they use them in the story. You can see this dark world in the most monochrome shades, and William himself doesn't make it easier for Kate. He wasn't trying to hide anything from her or shelter her… He just let her finally open her eyes.

Yes, he is a charming and funny person who reads people's emotions quite easily. As I mentioned earlier…

And yes, he calls himself selfish, but the more you read the story, the more you doubt it. He doesn't do anything against other people's wishes. The only exception when he judges someone for their crimes. In this case, he is really selfish… He makes a decision and just destroys a person without second thought. And there is something enchanting about his righteousness…

This should not be surprising… his eyes, nails, and even his clothes indicate that red is a natural color for him… For a normal human, killing should be a terrible act, but it's a game… so why not. Gilbert kills everyone who disagrees with him. So Will with his punishments doesn't feel that bad…

On this route, for THE FIRST TIME in all Ikemen games, WE are treated mentally, and not the other way around. Some might say that Will forced Kate to change her way of thinking according to his ideology. Yes, he may be doing it because he likes it, but his intentions are not as selfish as you might expect from him.

Just think about it. We constantly think: "I like to do - no, I shouldn't," "I want to say - no, I shouldn't." We constantly stop ourselves and suppress our desires, dreams and hopes. Yes, the real world doesn't give us a chance to be truly free (this will already be anarchy), but up to a certain point… this is a very healthy way of living.

William teaches Kate to be free. And the more she does as she pleases, the more attention she gets from Elbert. And he knows… not the right word.. he feels that it's beautiful.

I like his life philosophy so very much, except the very gloomy fatalism. And this philosophy of his is so solid and convincing that it makes it disturbingly attractive.

Are you ready to take responsibility for all your actions?…

But, in the end, I'm not really convinced that he loves Kate. Rather, he lets her love him. And considering how much she loves him (I would even call it an obsession), it makes sense. It's like she loves him for both of them. But maybe, just maybe, I cannot read his completely unreadable red eyes)))

I would like to say that I like him… well… at least to me his eyes don't look as creepy as they used to, and I find something charming in his smile… but… I don't know… Something didn't click in me. Let's just say it that way.

#cybird ikemen #ikemen series #cybird #ikemen games #ikemen villians #ikevil #william rex #ikemen william #ikevil william #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #ikemen prince gilbert

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sowritten · 2 years

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𝐃𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄

who wants a bite of me?

listen babe, nothing is as it seems.

god, you sound like you want to wear her skin.

do you think I did too much?

do you want me to push her in the pool? do you want me to light her hair on fire?

you look incredible tonight.

how could you do this to me?

baby, come on. I would never do this.

channel that anger into getting what you want.

why would he do this to me?

I hated myself for letting my guard down.

peaking in high school is cringe.

you have a really weird energy.

I don’t need your pity.

you insufferable cunt! I know you did this!

I don’t even do cocaine!

you think I framed you?

do you still not want my pity?

I know what it’s like to get screwed over by someone you thought you could trust.

you really had that pent-up, huh?

you look like you want a grilled cheese. let’s get you a grilled cheese.

I thought you were gonna put out a hit on me or something.

okay, I’ll just go fuck myself.

to be honest, I’m still recovering.

I just want to say how sorry I am for what happened to you last year.

oh, I’m sorry ‘school house rock’, are you dragging my sentence structure right now?

we won’t get caught, that’s the whole point.

I don’t want to make her pay. I want to burn her to the ground.

you’re giving off some serious glenn close in fatal attraction energy right now.

I can ruin her in my sleep.

I’m Frankenstein, and you’re Frankenstein’s bad bitch.

your new vibe is high-status cunt.

sometimes you have to pretend to be someone else to get what you want.

oh my god, don’t be so dramatic.

you called me a human birkenstock.

I’ve always been very intrigued by what you do here.

cool.

my ex-girlfriend is mad that I hooked up with my ex-boyfriend.

make revenge mommy proud.

are you stalking me?

I like your shirt. did it come with a bag of granola and a matching pair of Tevas?

what are you doing here?

that’s the exciting part of getting to know someone; you’re a mystery until you’re not.

the orgy usually starts around sundown.

can we talk about it, please?

well, we’re not having sex. you can go fuck yourself.

tell me something nobody knows about you.

I’m interesting, and you want to impress me.

what do you want to be?

we’re all just performing.

this feels illegal.

I want her to hit me with her Tesla and then reverse back over me.

I want her to stuff me like a taxidermy doll and then mount me on her wall like a prize.

I want her to hide my body in the woods and then start the search party trying to find me.

I am so proud of you. this is going to be the best night ever.

I feel like a little butterfly!

it’s called double assurance, sweetie. look it up.

are you on mushrooms?

your instincts were right.

you know you don’t have to be brave with me.

this sucks. it’s allowed to suck.

do you think I’ll feel better?

I’m just so angry all the time.

sometimes it just hurts to exist, you know?

I just want to feel normal again.

I like you; you’re just like me.

I didn’t know you were an artist.

rude... but fair.

don’t equate your worth to some archaic idea of what the best means.

can I say something that might make you very uncomfortable?

I’m shocked! this is shocking news!

we’re casting spells tonight, bitch.

ban men!

get in there and eat that ass, is what I’m saying!

don’t do that! don’t pity me, and definitely don’t touch me!

I lost everything! fucking everything!

they need to feel the consequences of what they did to me.

they have to pay. all of them.

I feel like I’m being eaten alive from the inside, actually.

do you ever look around and just think, how did I get here?

all this shit, it’s just armour.

I really like you. I wanna tell you everything.

everything I thought I hated was exactly what I always wanted.

what’s going on in that head of yours?

I just need a little distraction from all the stress.

can’t we put all this ugliness aside?

I think you handled that very well.

nice entrance.

what do you think you’re doing?

you don’t even answer my texts!

those people do not care about you.

they’re not your friends.

oh my god, you’re pathetic.

none of this is real!

are you any different from them?

are you sure? there’s never been any evidence.

I mean this from the bottom of my heart: fuck you.

did you overhear that?

you said some pretty messed up stuff out there.

someone was probably messing with you.

from the bottom of my heart, I wish you nothing but the worst for the rest of your miserable fucking existence.

I love your ear balls.

sleep with one eye open, bitch.

I’ve had the upper hand the entire time.

you made this pretty easy, I gotta say.

you’ll never get away with this.

I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep anymore.

where does this game end?

there is nothing else you can take away from me.

I’m going to make sure that you’re stuck with your pain forever, because I am stuck with mine.

if you want to ruin me, go ahead. I’m not helping you.

I promise I can explain.

I had no choice!

do you ever think about anyone other than yourself?

I really wanted this to work, but it just doesn’t.

I was deciding between this and elsa, but I kind of thought you weren’t an elsa person, although you are a frigid bitch.

I’m sorry that I hit you with my car.

there’s nothing vapid people love more than making other peoples’ tragedies about them.

don’t cry. it’s alright.

I wish it could have been different.

what should have felt exhilarating just felt rotten.

how did you know I’d be here?

I miss you.

it shouldn’t have taken an accident for me to realize that, and I’m sorry.

I think you’re lucky.

I don’t feel free. I feel like I got hit by a car.

I give up. I’m done.

show everybody what a bad bitch looks like.

I created you, and I can just as easily destroy you.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.

we can’t erase what we did to each other, but I don’t want to hurt you anymore.

you might be the only real friend I’ve ever had.

I will regret what I did to you forever.

I’m sorry.... for everything.

did you just enter doing a slow clap, you cliché piece of shit?

you really are the devil.

I thought we had a whole will-they, won’t-they thing going on.

where are you going with this?

I know all your secrets now.

no one would’ve given a shit about you if it wasn’t for me.

why the fuck are you laughing?

goddamn do I love you right now.

I think we might be fucked-up soulmates.

you are a very lucky girl.

fuck you. we’re over.

I think you should leave.

I don’t want to be that person anymore.

everything you’ve done, everything that’s happened to you, has brought you to this moment.

fuck figuring out who you’re meant to be. stay lost as long as you can.

I wanted to do something cute, like a grand gesture.

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence meme #roleplay starters #sentence starters #starters: do revenge

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 2 years

Text

The Daughter of A Siren.

Just an in between that I felt needed to be outside of part four.

LET'S face it, when it comes to men, us women are desperate to know exactly how we can get what we want and at the same time appear irresistible.

Have you ever wondered how Hollywood superstar Angelie Jolie has the power to make most men go weak at the knees?

Or how movie femme fatale Marilyn Monroe got her "luminous quality"?

You have to be distinguished from other women. Have the ability to make men pursue you without even trying. It’s in your voice. It’s in the way you dress. It’s how you move.

That’s what it takes to be a siren.

A siren is essentially a feminine woman who plays on her damsel-esque energy to seduce. Her power lies in the fact that she makes men feel powerful, although she’s the one in power. Women, on the other hand, want to be her, but fear their sexual energy could never compare. Many men have destroyed themselves because of the siren.

A man is often secretly oppressed by the role he has to play, by always having to be responsible, in control, and rational. The siren is the ultimate male fantasy figure because she offers a total release from the limitations of his life. In her presence, which is always heightened and sexually charged, the male feels transported to a realm of pure pleasure. In a world where women are often too timid to protect such an image, learn to take control of the man libido by embodying his fantasy.

Carmella Love was that woman.

the femme fatale whose smoldering style and countless relationships made her an icon. She was a vocalist turned actress. A woman who sings with enchanting sweetness. Carmella was the purest example of a siren. Think of Carmella and certain images instantly come to mind: the pouty lips, slightly parted; the sleepy, bedroom eyes of 1950s film stars; the curly hair; and that voice, breathy, like she just woke up and can't wait for you to join her in bed. Carmella conjures up sex and – simultaneously – misery, thanks to the way her troubled personal life has been pored over from the moment she became a movie star.

A deeply traumatised and lonely woman, in love with movies and the idea of love, but desperately crippled with daddy issues that infect every single relationship she develops. the victim narrative, and the absolute essence of feminine, sexual glamour and irresistibility. There is also a mystery to Carmella, something elusive. life was one of extreme lows and extraordinary highs. She became an actress after she was already a successful singer. Carmella’s mystery is not that of her ascent, but of the extreme contradictions of her life. She was a generational talent, a movie star with undeniable charisma, charm, fantastic comedic timing and an aggressive earnestness about her that was as disarming as it was captivating…

“The American Dream is a term that is often used but also often misunderstood. It isn't really about becoming rich or famous. It is about things much simpler and more fundamental than that.”

"I don’t want to make money, I just want to be wonderful."

"I don’t mind living in a man’s world as long as I can be a woman in it."

"It’s all make believe, isn’t it?"

She never really did it for the money. Carmella had a real passion for performing for others. She revels in enjoying her senses and the pleasure she can bring as well as pushing the boundaries of what is acceptable to society. She’s confident and exotic, and she knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. She didn’t seek confirmation from men that she was attractive, rather having an innate understanding within herself that she is attractive and desirable.

Carmella moved from Baltimore to The Big Apple at the age of sixteen after her mother committed suicide. Her father had left them when Carmella was two days old and remarried to a woman in Virginia. Carmella found a job at Macy’s as a cashier during the day to cover her rent at her Harlem apartment and at night she would sing at a leather club in the 1980s for extra spending money to pay for studio time.

As the 1970s gave way to the ‘80s, New York City’s party scene entered a ferociously inventive period characterized by its incredible creativity, intensity and hybridity. New York City drove the music scene forward as remixers and producers entered into a mutant period that brought together disco, rhythm and blues, funk, rap, punk, no wave, new wave and dub into an undeniably heady mixture of sound seemingly beyond categorization. Much of the music released during the 1980-83 period didn’t have a name. Nobody seemed to care.

Carmella loved it all. She would sing at a popular nightclub in Manhattan and take to the dance floor. She found the fun in the mundane, enticing men without trying, like it was as easy as taking a breath, and the ability to bring out a heightened masculine feeling in those she came in contact with. Despite what she’d been through, she tried to enjoy life as much as she could.

During her nights out, she would always run into an attractively energetic and enthusiastic girl around her age named Felicity. Felicity Jones was a glamorous, ambitious, top advertising executive in New York. They quickly became great friends and after a period of time, Felicity’s older brother, Damion, took interest in Carmella. What man wouldn’t? She was gorgeous and it was easy to succumb to her.

Carmella had many unsuccessful relationships with men that she couldn’t stray away from. She just wanted to be loved. Her extensive dating history followed her well into her breakthrough career as an actress and with the fame came the gossip-mongers. As her good friend and photographer, Sam Davidson, who himself was rumored to be her lover, once said, "If Carmella slept with every guy that claims he was with her, she would have never had time to make any movies."

The 90s rolled around and Carmella was in her mid 30s when she finally took interest in Damion. It happened unexpectedly, and definitely not how Felicity would have wanted it to be. Felicity hated her brother Damion. He was an abusive, narcissistic man who often cheated on his then wife. Felicity tried to warn Carmella about her brother and why it would be a terrible idea to get involved with him, but Carmella was irrevocably in love with him.

Felicity lived in fear that Carmella would find out about the kinds of things her brother got involved in, things that could risk her life if she’d find out. Soon, Carmella began to grow jealous of Damion’s wife and how secretive he was whenever she’d ask him about his whereabouts. Their affair was one that Damion fought to keep hidden, and they bickered often about it. Damion would raise his hand to Carmella to ‘keep her in line’ and she would have to conceal her black eye with a pound of makeup the next day for a shoot.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Damion decides to leave Carmella. She fell into depression and became a pain to work with on set because her personal life began to merge with her professional one. She picked up a drinking habit and would abuse prescription drugs. It was a cry for help and also a way to cope with the stress that came with fame. She dated men here and there to help fill the void in her life but she only wanted Damion.

After rehab and therapy for almost a year, Carmella reunited with Damion when he’d contacted her. He confided in her about his rocky marriage, and over time they rekindled their affair. Carmella kept it from Felicity as long as she could, but the unexpected pregnancy would be hard to conceal. Carmella didn’t feel as if her being pregnant was a burden. She hoped that it would bring them together and as delusional as it may seem, she wanted to become his wife.

Sadly, Damion abandoned her again and wanted nothing to do with Carmella when his wife began to suspect he was creeping around on her. Felicity soon found out about her pregnancy and urged Carmella not to tell Damion. Damion would stop at nothing to ruin Carmella’s life if he found out and Carmella refused to have an abortion. She’d always wanted a child of her own, and after trying for years in previous relationships, she finally had her miracle baby. True to her word, Carmella didn’t tell Damion about her pregnancy, even growing to resent him for the way he treated her. Apparently, his image was more important than Carmella’s feelings.

Carmella purchased a stunning colonial home in Buffalo, New York where she planned to have a water birth and a Doula to provide physical and emotional support. After press tours for her box office hit, she decided to take a long break away from the spotlight to raise her child. Carmella wanted the sex of her baby to be a surprise, and only Felicity knew what the sex was so she planned to decorate her nursery for the big reveal. Carmella finally gave birth in July of 1994 to a beautiful baby girl. She named her Adena; after her late mother who committed suicide.

Carmella made sure her daughter was set for life. She’d prepared a will with her attorney and legally arranged her financial accounts, property, and personal and medical information in such a way that trusted people in her life can handle her estate and affairs with as little inconvenience as possible when she passed away or become incapacitated. Carmella never had a relationship with her family, so the only person she trusted to take care of Adena if something ever happened to her, was Felicity. She appointed Felicity as Adena’s legal guardian.

Adena was a scholarly, active child. Whatever she found interest in, Carmella would support. She enjoyed dancing, singing, gymnastics, Capoeira, archery, and playing the piano. Adena had her mother’s siren eyes and lips and her father’s mocha complexion and nose. She’d sometimes look at her daughter and wish that she’d known who her father was. After seven years, Carmella would soon find out the dark truth about Damion.

A mysterious invitation arrived on her doorstep on the eve of Halloween after picking her daughter up from private school. They were both enjoying a scoop of vanilla ice cream while strolling along the cobblestone walk-way of their home when Carmella stopped, noticing a red box with a perfectly tied satin ribbon. She picked up the box and kept it away from Adena, instructing her to get started on her homework in the dining room and she’d join her.

In her kitchen, Carmella inspected the box carefully before undoing the neat bow. She slowly opened the box, afraid that she’d find something grotesque like a severed finger. When she finally opened the box, she found a black and red masquerade mask with a black feather and black crystals. She noticed an invitation in the box with a luxury black background and golden details. Reading the fancy script, she wondered who The Court of Aje were, and why they would be sending her an invitation.

And the anonymous note.

Someone wanted her to go to whatever this Halloween party was and the entire mystery of it all intrigued her. Carmella had plans with Adena earlier that day to take her to the pumpkin patch. She could ask her babysitter to watch Adena for the evening while she went. She’d have to find a dress to wear and seeing that it was last minute, Carmella hoped she could find something appropriate to wear for a masquerade ball.

And she's going to have to come up with a secret name.

“Oh!? Miss Love! Are you okay?”

Carmella sauntered into her kitchen, disheveled and in distress, ignoring the babysitter’s concerns. Felicity walked in soon after, just as distraught, and when she’d noticed the babysitter, she quickly assured her that everything was okay and she could go home for the evening. While Felicity walked the teenage girl to the door, she informed her that Adena was fast asleep for the night after being read a chapter of her favorite bedtime story; The Princess Bride.

Felicity closed and secured the door, checking out of one of the windows on the front door to make sure she’d left. Felicity rushed back to the kitchen to find it empty, and when she walked through the open patio doors to the back yard near the lagoon pool, she found Carmella sitting by the edge of the pool, staring down into the blue waters, the glow from the pool lights illuminating what looked like tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Carmella?” Felicity lifted the bottom of her green gown, and sat next to her best friend, “Hey…hey, sister…it’s okay…it’s gonna be alright. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Felicity rubbed soothing circles on Carmella’s back.

“I can’t believe that’s what he gets involved in. And I wonder who sent that invitation…they must have wanted me to get killed that night. If it weren’t for you being there to have my back, I would have probably died…thank you.”

Felicity looked out beyond the yard with hard eyes.

“I hate him. I hate my father for even allowing us to get involved with The Stevens family. Those people are horrible. They’ve been horrible to my family since as early as the 20s.”

Carmella turned to Felicity with glossy eyes.

“…So, my family used to be as big as The Stevens’ are. Although we came from new money, we were just as well-respected as them. We had each other's backs…shared businesses together…it was as if we were a second family,” Felicity took a deep breath in before continuing, “That all came crashing down when one of my great uncles was accused of sexually assaulting a member of The Stevens Family. A teenage girl. He was wrongfully accused and my family were banished from ever doing business with them. They dragged our name through the dirt so bad that our family had to change our name…from King, to Jones.”

Carmella gave Felicity a puzzled look, “So, why does your family still interact with The Stevens family? Shouldn’t you feel…angry?”

Felicity shakes her head, “Oh…we are. But what can you do? They are powerful, Carmella. More powerful than any white man. They have the police, FBI, DA, government, and Mayor in their back pocket. Of course, being a prestigious black family, you have your fair share of white people trying to bring you down…but nothing can break The Stevens family. They made sure of that…”

Carmella exhaled a shaky breath, “So, they can just get away with murdering people?!”

“Yes,” Felicity sadly admitted,“And I wish you hadn’t gone there, Carmella. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happens to you. Please, promise me, you’ll leave New York behind and just start over. You have the money, I will always be here for you. I’ve seen what they’ve done to people…and I’m wrapped up in this mess with no way to escape—”

“Then come with me,” Carmella grabbed Felicity’s hands tightly, “Let’s go to London. Remember how we always talked about moving there? Just the three of us, Felicity? Adena would love it. She always gets so excited with the post cards you’d send her, and the pictures of yourself lounging in your beautiful apartments in Notting Hill…”

Felicity smiled softly at Carmella, bringing her hand up to stroke stray curls from her eyes. They stared at each other deeply, Felicity fighting the urge to press her lips against Carmella’s. She’d loved Carmella since the moment she’d laid eyes on her. To see that she fell in love with her brother, it broke her heart. But, despite that, she still cared deeply for Carmella. She’d always feel that way. Carmella leaned in and pressed her lips against Felicity’s lips softly, lingering there for a moment, eyes closed and allowing the safety of her being there with her to envelope her.

“I love you, Felicity…”

Felicity blinked back tears and pulled Carmella into a tight hug, pressing her nose into her hair, inhaling her sweet scent.

“I love you too, girl…always.”

“Mama…Auntie…”

They both separated and turned towards a sleepy Adena rubbing her right eye while carrying her large care bear. She’s wearing a nightgown with Disney princesses all over it and her favorite fluffy pink slippers. Her waist length curls are pulled back into a low ponytail with the hairs frizzy from not wearing a scarf.

“Come here, pretty girl…” Felicity held out her arms.

Adena walked over to her aunt and her mother and Felicity sat her in her lap while playing in her hair. Carmella stroked her puffy cheek that reminded her of a cute chipmunk while Adena gave her a sleepy smile.

“Did you have a good time with your babysitter today?”

“Yes. Mommy, were you crying?”

Adena touched Carmella’s cheek with her tiny hand. Carmella reached for her daughter’s hand and brought it to her lips.

“Mommy is okay. Listen, why don’t we drink some hot cocoa to help you get some sleep?” Carmella said.

“And I’ll read one more chapter of The Princess Bride,” Felicity added.

Adena nodded her head rapidly with a tired smile before Felicity carefully stood up with Adena in her arms and followed Carmella back inside of the house.

Felicity didn’t know that would be the last time she would see Carmella alive.

The following week…

Felicity was summoned by her brother one cold evening in November. She walked the darkened hall with thick, carpeted floors within his home until she found him pacing the large, oval-shaped room with clenched fists and rageful eyes. He came to an abrupt stop when he’d spotted Felicity standing there with a stony expression and folded arms. Damion’s sinister eyes peered behind her and with a tick of his chin his henchmen that had guided Felicity to her brother's office disappeared and shut both polished oak doors.

Felicity watched her brother with an untrustworthy gaze, wondering what he’d called her there for. She’d just flown back in from Chicago after meeting some people there to do business. With his arms crossed behind his back like an evil villain, Damion walked up to Felicity, staring down at his sister with anger and resentment. Felicity’s emotions mirrored his, and she didn’t show any fear towards her brother. A slow, sly smirk appeared on his face at her courage.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Felicity,” Damion spoke with a deep baritone, “Did you think I wouldn’t figure it all out?”

Felicity quirked an arched brow, “Figure what out?”

“Felicity…let’s not play games here. The Halloween ball…what was Carmella doing there?”

Worry showed in Felicity’s eyes and she was too late to hide it from her brother.

“She was never supposed to know about that, Felicity. You…you allowed her to walk in there and see what happens…you know what has to be done when you invite the unwelcomed, correct?”

Felicity stared unblinking at her brother but her lip trembled. Damion cupped her chin aggressively to make her look at him closer.

“…They suffer the consequences.”

Felicity pushed Damion away from her and he barely moved.

“What did you do…WHAT DID YOU DO?!!!!!” Felicity yelled.

“I made a statement. I did what needed to be done…Joseph,”

Felicity turned icy eyes onto Joseph Stevens who seemed to materialize from the shadows. His handsome, dimpled smile and unblemished umber skin came into view when he joined Damion’s side.

“You…you son of a bitch!!!!”

Damion caught Felicity by her narrow wrist before she could smack the taste out of Joseph's mouth.

“Get off of me, Damion!” Felicity screamed.

“You brought this on yourself, Felicity. Now, if it were my choice, I’d have you killed…just like we did that beautiful seductress. You betrayed us. How are we supposed to trust you when you do something like this?” Joseph spoke darkly.

“No,” Felicity’s knees buckled, “What did you do to her!!!!!!!”

“It will be on the news by tomorrow morning I fear,” Damion whispered ghoulishly, “Such a beautiful, talented woman gone too soon…”

“She said she received an anonymous invite! Whoever did it set her up! Why don’t you punish them?! She didn’t know anything before going to the ball! How could you?! How could you Damion?!” Felicity wailed.

“We don’t know who sent the invite.” Joseph admitted.

Felicity turned her teary eyes onto her brother who hadn’t responded. She had an inkling that he knew who had done it and was covering for them.

“This situation could get out of hand, Felicity. Powerful people attend this ball every year. If word got out that they are involved in this type of activity…all will be lost,” Joseph stated carefully, “This was an attempt to tarnish our name. Whoever did this, was jealous of Carmella, and also willing to bring my family down.”

Felicity kept her cold eyes on her brother, but he didn’t break character.

“Did you question Maxine, Damion? Your wife?”

“Maxine knows nothing about The Court of Aje. And if she did, she wouldn’t be safe from our wrath either. Maybe you let slip about the ball to Carmella yourself—”

“I WOULD NEVER RISK HER LIFE! I’M NOT LIKE ANY OF YOU!” Felicity shouted.

“Then, it remains a mystery…” Joseph said.

“Until then, we’ve decided to revoke your involvement with The Court of Aje, Felicity, and you will be watched from here on out. If we find out that anyone else knows about this…I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Felicity felt as if a boulder had crushed her. She couldn’t believe her brother had said that to her. Not even the hurt in her eyes made him realize how evil he is towards her. She had to get away. All she could think about beyond the ringing in her ears is little Adena discovering her mother’s dead body, or worse…

“I won’t say anything. And why would I? So you can kill someone else and get away with it?” Felicity said with a shaky voice.

Damion’s jaw tightened at her words and Joseph Stevens watched her storm out the doors. She rushed out of his home and raced over to Carmella’s home. Tears blurred her vision when she charged through the doors, calling out for Carmella. She searched the entire basement, then worked her way to the main level and couldn’t find her. She wasn’t out at the pool either.

“Carmella! Adena!” Felicity shouted.

Her footsteps bounded up the stairs and all she could see beyond the darkness of the hallway was a dim light from her master bathroom. Carmella took leisurely steps into Carmella’s room that looked rather ordinary, but when she’d made it past her bed, she found the carpet soaked with pinkish bath water. The door was left ajar, but the sound of running water grew louder as Felicity pushed open the door….

“CARMELLA!”

Slipping on the linoleum floor, feet splashing in bloody water, Felicity ran to the jacuzzi bathtub, screams bouncing off of the walls like a chilling echo. She got down on her knees and turned off the faucet, too distraught to believe the state of her friend. She looked pale. Her wrists were slit and she was lying in a bloody bath. Her eyes were open and they looked empty. Felicity forced her eyes away, shaking, unable to get the image of her dead eyes out of her mind. All she could do was try and remember the light that had occupied those bewitching eyes.

“Adena?!!!!” Felicity looked around the bathroom, but there was no sight of her, “ADENAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”

She left Carmella’s body to search for Adena. Feet heavy, Felicity combed Carmella’s room, even searched beneath her bed, when she made it inside of Adena’s room, she checked beneath her canopy bed and the closet. Just when she was about to leave, Felicity looked towards the corner of her room where a pile of Adena’s stuffed animals were. Felicity walked over, crouching down, and when she peeked over a tall giraffe, she spotted Adena in the fetal position, shaking with fear.

“Hey, pretty girl…it’s Auntie…”

Adena sat up slowly, and when Felicity noticed blood stains on her night shirt, she broke down crying.

“Is—is mommy dead?” Adena questioned with a soft-spoken voice.

Felicity felt her throat close up as she watched tears stream down Adena’s youthful face. Felicity sighed heavily, letting her head drop. Adena could hold the heartbreak no longer and she fell to the floor in a disheveled heap as her grief poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears.

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#mirror mirror #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger smut

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feeder86 · 3 years

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Going Soft

Dax sighed a little as he heard his name being called out from behind him. There was Miles, heading towards him at the bar. He smiled politely, but knew he was going to be stuck with the guy for at least the next half an hour. This bar was a great spot to pick up guys before they all headed off to the clubs, and wasting half an hour trying to shake off an overly keen nineteen year old was not part of Dax’s plan. It wasn’t that Miles wasn’t attractive; he really was. Dax had seen him at a festival in the summer with his shirt off and dancing around with his toned body on show. The sight was more than enough to give Dax a boner.

However, Miles was also fatally boring and far too into him. As soon as he came over, Dax knew he was going to have to listen to the guy telling him all about his first semester in college: the assignments he had completed, the dull people he had met. It made him think that, if he ever did get too drunk and end up in bed with Miles, what a passionless, disappointing encounter it would turn out to be. He imagined Miles wanting to cuddle afterwards and share life stories. He’d never get rid of him!

“I’m meeting a new guy at another bar in ten minutes,” Dax lied, after listening to Miles go on for some time. After his fifth shot of vodka, his libido was fully engaged and his tolerance for small talk was dissipating.

“That’s okay,” Miles smiled. “Want me to come along and be your wingman, just in case he turns out to be a weirdo?” he offered kindly; obviously keen to spend more time with Dax.

“No, no!” Dax shot back immediately. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. You stay here and enjoy yourself.”

A drunken girl, ordering drinks next to Miles at the bar, suddenly waddled back to her table, forgetting her purse which was still sat on the bar. It was too crowded for Dax to move, so he pointed it out to Miles, who quickly grabbed the purse and followed the girl to her table. It was Dax’s perfect opportunity to escape. But as Miles walked away, Dax could see other guys looking at him strangely, turning their heads side-on. As Dax followed their gazes, he realised exactly what the spectacle was. With his back turned, Miles’ butt was on full display to everyone. Two, rounded little monster glutes pushed their way against the fabric of his pants; oversized and undeniably chubby. Having never been to college, Dax only knew of the legend of the Freshman Fifteen that students were sometimes fated to gain, being away from the balanced diets of home-life for the first time in their lives. Dax remembered Miles’ butt as being flat and entirely unremarkable. Now there were two plumped, doughy-looking butt cheeks that looked entirely out of place on the rest of his body. The sight startled him, and his opportunity to escape dwindled away.

“You got time for one more drink before you leave?” Miles asked, calling out to the bartender as he got back. He raised his hand, leaning right over the bar. Dax couldn’t help himself, he stepped back a little to get another look at Miles’ butt. It was so much rounder and wider than it had been last summer, with fat starting to fill up the thighs as well. Dax had never seen an ass like it, and his curious dick started to grow rather rapidly. How would it feel to fuck an ass like that?

“Yeah, I’ve got time for one more,” Dax replied, speaking directly to Mile’s chunky rear. Maybe it was the five shots, or perhaps the drawbacks of taking Miles home with him suddenly seemed less significant, but Dax knew he didn’t want to look any further that evening.

When Miles turned back to him, passing Dax his fresh drink, he seemed entirely oblivious to the arousal that had built up in his companion. “The music’s not bad tonight. What do you think?” Miles began, starting off another dull conversation of small talk.

Dax ignored him. “So, is there a super-cute boyfriend waiting for you back in college?” he asked him instead, unable to hide the flirtation in his voice.

“No, no…” Miles replied, rather shyly. “My course is quite intense. I’m a year older than everyone else and I think I take it a lot more seriously. I haven’t had much time for dating and stuff.”

“What? No fucking around at all?” Dax asked, chuckling. He had never really had the grades to consider college, with the potential sex-life being the only draw he could think of for further education.

Miles seemed a little embarrassed. “Not yet,” he answered. “I’m still getting my feet there.”

Now Dax’s hardness was really building. The thought of Miles going months without a decent fuck… it made the temptation of taking him home all the more irresistible. “That’s a shame,” he smiled. “You’re a cute boy. I thought you’d have a string of guys waiting to fuck you.”

Miles seemed to pick up on Dax’s change of tone, for he blushed slightly and found it a little harder to maintain eye contact. “I wish…” he simply mumbled back.

Emboldened, Dax reached his hand out to rest it on Mile’s hip. “If you wanted, I could always help you out,” he offered confidently. Sometimes guys appreciated him being direct like this. When he saw Miles’ eyebrows raise with interest, he let his hand wander a little further, sliding onto one of the guy’s juicy glutes and feeling its full shape. The size and softness of it was making Dax’s dick tingle with anticipation.

“I’m definitely up for that!” Miles nodded keenly. “You know I’ve always been into you.”

“I guess it’s your lucky night then,” Dax grinned, taking both of their drinks and placing them down on the bar. Then, with both hands, he seized Miles’ fat glutes, pulling the nineteen year old’s groin into his own, as they kissed passionately for the first time.

“So, what do you like?” Dax asked half an hour later as they finally made it back to his place. He’d undressed with rapid speed and was rolling a condom onto his raging hard-on, desperate to begin.

“I like it rough!” Miles shot back, taking off his shirt. His abs from the summer were gone; smoothed over and filled in by an undeniable layer of chub. However, even that wasn’t putting Dax off as he hungrily waited for the college student to take his pants off. “I love getting absolutely pounded!” the surprisingly kinky boy explained.

Dax smirked in excitement. Miles was a lot less boring than he had expected, going by the filthy things he’d whispered into his ear on the cab ride home. He pulled down his pants, revealing an erection that was visibly throbbing. Then he tugged on it as Dax went behind Miles to get a better look at the plump rear he was about to play with. Exhaling deeply, Dax swooned at the large size and extraordinary shape; so unlike the butt Miles had had on him last summer. He realised then that he had never wanted to fuck a guy more than did right then.

Picking up the glutes, Dax was amazed by how soft and pliable they were. He spread them out and bounced them, feeling the heavy impact of the excess blubber that now weighed them down. Miles was making no effort to tense them and make them seem firmer or more toned. He’d simply surrendered his whole body. Undeniably, the bouncing was getting Dax the most excited he had ever been. He jiggled them harder, watching ripples of blubber spread through to Miles’ legs and into a little extra padding that seemed to be settling on the guy’s sides, forming what could one day become love handles.

Miles moaned with pleasure and Dax suddenly remembered that the boy had gone months without any sex at all. “You like being played with?” he asked the submissive student excitedly.

Moaning again, Miles nodded emphatically. Dax responded by bouncing the butt cheeks even more wildly, rocking them up and down almost violently. Miles only responded by moaning even louder; seemingly enjoying it even more. “Oh, fuck!” he called out. “Fuck me!” he insisted.

Dax didn’t need telling twice, slapping a huge dollop of lubricant between Miles’ butt cheeks and then pushing himself in as Miles leaned forward onto the side of the sofa. There was no resistance; no wincing or catching of breath. Dax slipped in with ease and began thrusting with more speed and force than any other guy had ever allowed him to do before. He leaned back and watched his groin pumping into Miles’ butt, seeing the fat rippling once more and hearing Miles moan with pure pleasure. He needed to slow down; he was going to come too fast at this rate. Then again, he didn’t think Miles would last too long either. However, who said he only needed to come once that evening?

Dax saw Miles a couple of weeks later, towards the end of his winter break from college. He was leaning against a bar, waiting to be served, with his wide, overstuffed butt on full display. The sight made Dax’s dick harden immediately. Miles’ butt seemed even larger and softer than he remembered. Or maybe it had just grown even bigger over the holidays? Either way, Dax soon found himself unable to resist sneaking up behind him, placing his hands onto that enormous rear and whispering a horny greeting into the guy’s ear. They tried to stay out together, chatting at the bar and dancing when a good tune came on. But with their hands sliding onto each other’s bodies and the conversation turning inevitably dirty, it was obvious how they both really wanted to be spending that evening; one last time before Miles would disappear off for college again.

The Winter and Spring months had sailed by with one disappointing encounter after another. Dax realised that it wasn’t as easy to recreate the thrill and excitement of his sessions with Miles. Other guys just didn’t seem to have that certain something that had made his time with Miles so freakishly hot.

“Shit! Is that Miles?” asked Cam, as he sat with Dax and a few others outside of a bar one warm summer evening. He squinted, as if hardly believing his eyes and then chuckled in realisation. “It is!” he called triumphantly. “Fuck! That guy got FAT!”

Dax’s heart leapt at the sound of Miles’ name being called out and his dick twitched. He looked up in the direction that Cam was staring and spotted Miles chatting to a guy in the background, his back slightly turned and his overfilled glutes pushing aggressively against the material of his shorts. The guy had undoubtedly gained a few more pounds since the holidays. His new love handles looked full and plump, pressing themselves over his waistband and filling the tight fitted t-shirt that probably should have been retired by now.

“Jeez! What the fuck?” laughed Jon, pointing across so that their other friend, Ed, could see who they were talking about. “I don’t think you ever met Miles,” he continued, for Ed’s benefit. “He’s super boring to chat to, but was always nice to look at.”

“You mean… that?” Ed looked on, unimpressed at the chubby boy they were all talking about. Dax could see the guy’s eyes fixating on Mile’s fat glutes and love handles; his face filling with disgust.

Jon laughed again. “Well, not now, obviously!” he shot back. “A year away in college has just turned him into a fatty. He was always super into Dax, here,” Jon pointed across the table. “You should have got in there while he was still hot!” he joked to Dax. “It’s too late now!”

Dax blushed a little, having never told his friends about sleeping with Miles last winter.

“I think his whole family are all fat,” Cam nodded, thinking hard. “My aunt knows his mom. And she’s a BIG lady! I guess he’s just following in their footsteps.”

“Gross,” Ed mumbled, taking an instant dislike to Miles.

Quiet and subdued, Dax felt incredibly embarrassed by the conversation. These guys would never understand the attraction he felt towards Miles. To them, fat was like a giant cloaking device, making people entirely invisible to them. Miles was less than nothing to them now; not worthy of their time.

Dax turned again to look at Miles, feeling his dick getting harder and harder. What was it about the guy that was just so fucking hot? Dax had tried fucking other guys with a little too much junk in the trunk these last few months, but Miles was just in a league of his own.

Suddenly their eyes met and Dax felt himself cringe as Miles’ face lit up and he began strolling over to their table.

“Shit! It’s coming over!” grumbled Cam, shifting over on the bench a little to make less room for anyone else.

“Hey guys,” Miles smiled. “Long time no see! How’re you all doing?”

Miles received a chorus of unenthusiastic grunts as the guys all looked down at their drinks, not wanting Miles to stick around.

“I’m home for a couple of weeks this summer,” Miles went on to explain, looking specifically at Dax. “I was hoping that maybe we could go out for a drink one evening?”

Cam’s face lit up as he realised that Miles had the nerve to ask Dax out right in front of them. Jon sniggered and Ed gave a muted laugh. All of them looked on at Dax, wondering how he would respond to being asked out by a fat guy.

Dax felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead. “Um, I don’t think I have any time,” he replied awkwardly. “Work is pretty full-on at the moment.”

“It doesn’t have to be an evening,” Miles tried. “I can do any time really.”

Dax looked from one guy to the next, all delighting in the awkwardness of the moment. “Um… no. I don’t think so,” he finally stated. “Sorry.”

Miles nodded slowly. He looked from one of the boys to another, seeming to pick up on the fact that they found his proposition to be completely hilarious. “I see,” he mumbled, suddenly very aware of himself and filling with embarrassment. “I’ll just leave you guys to it.”

Dax felt terrible afterwards. He couldn’t enjoy himself with the guys, and gazed around, hoping that he might see Miles again. He’d find somewhere quiet to take him and explain. It wasn’t his fault that he had let Miles down like that. If he hadn’t felt so under pressure, there was no way he wouldn’t have accepted Miles’ offer of a date. The other guys just had a way of making him feel like such a freak whenever he dared to swim against the tide. But as Jon, Ed and then Cam all slowly disappeared for the night, taking their evening conquests home, Dax suddenly found himself all alone, and more bitter towards them than ever.

A long time went by. The holiday lights were back up and snow covered the ground outside the bars. Dax felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw Miles. He’d recognise that lardy butt anywhere! He’d spent so much time thinking about how he had given up on the chance to go out with him. Now he knew exactly what he wanted to do. Or, at least, he knew in theory what wanted to do. But now that the time had arrived, he suddenly found himself feeling a lot less brave than he had in his imagination. It was obvious that Miles had gained a few more pounds. Dax could see it in the guy’s puffy cheeks and stubborn little double chin now forming clearly. Miles wasn’t trying to squeeze his body into an ill-fitting outfit this time. His clothes were suitably sized, despite being horrendously fashioned; only seeming to emphasise the rounded little gut and blubbery pecs that now dominated his torso. Yet, still Dax wanted him; maybe even more than he ever had.

Getting drunker and drunker, Dax was lucky to catch Miles as he headed out of the bar and he quickly downed his beer and hobbled on after him, leaving everyone else inside. By the time Dax made it outside, Miles was already some way down the street and heading into a fast food joint before he went home. Again, Dax followed, determined to catch-up with his friend.

“I’ll have two double-bacon cheese… Oh, hey!” Miles smiled when he saw Dax pull up behind him as he ordered at the counter. “Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Dax nodded and pulled an overly serious face, as if to make out that he was completely sober. He let Miles finish ordering and then allowed the guy to guide him over to a table where they could both sit. “I just wanted to apologise for the last time I saw you in the summer…” Dax rambled. “I was such a jerk and I…” he paused, realising how drunk he sounded and regretting that last beer he had just taken down for courage.

Miles chuckled and took a huge bite of his first cheeseburger. “Don’t worry,” he smiled. “You don’t need to feel bad.”

“But, I do!” Dax replied emphatically. “I feel terrible.” If his mind had been sharper, he could have put it all into words right there, explaining exactly how much he had messed up and how into Miles he really was. He’d gone soft. He’d never ever thought of someone in the longing way that he yearned for Miles. Now that the guy was here, right in front of him, Dax was almost overcome by how much he wanted him.

“Nah, honestly, I should thank you. After you turned me down, I went back to college and asked out a guy in my department, and now we couldn’t be happier!”

Dax’s heart sank. Miles was with someone? He’d missed the boat?

As he sat there in a drunken stupor, Dax listened as Miles gushed about his boyfriend: a PhD student engaged in ground-breaking research that, according to Miles, made him no less equal to Einstein. Dax began picturing the guy in his head, feeling worse and worse as he realised just how much he had messed up. It wasn’t just that he had lost out on Miles, but, hearing this tale of success, he thought, what else had he done with his life? He’d gone from one dead-end job to another, barely scraping enough money for rent and a few nights out a month. Miles was going places. He was in college, dating guys who jetted off across the country for academic conferences in Las Vegas. Dax could feel his life shrinking into insignificance. He remembered Miles putting him in a cab to go home and realising that whatever hope he had had of being with him was now long gone: the parties, the drinks, the casual sex; that was Dax’s life. He couldn’t hope for anything more.

A fire had been lit under Dax as the New Year got underway. He needed to make a decision and stick to it. Just where was he going in life? It all started with giving up his crappy little apartment and moving back in with his folks. A backwards step? Maybe. But he needed the stability and support if he was going to be able to keep up with his new goals. Culinary school was the dream now. He’d started when he was eighteen and fresh out of high school. But he’d been too young and immature back then, quitting after completing his second year because it was too much effort. When he’d approached them, they’d agreed to let him come back and resume the third year. His parents were delighted and so was Dax. This would give him a profession and something he could build upon, year after year. The sky was the limit, if he really wanted it.

Over a year had gone by since Dax had seen Miles. Now it was February the fourteenth; Valentine’s Day, and Dax was working in a restaurant in the big city. The move, coming here, had been tough and not without its risks, but Dax was sure that he was where he needed to be. He’d almost forgotten that Miles was in college here; probably in his final year by now. Yet, there he was, sat down at Table 9 with his boyfriend, looking blissfully happy. The last year had been good to Miles, judging by the look of him. Even sat down, it was clear how much weight he had continued to slowly gain as the months rolled by; the double chin failing to be concealed by a new stubbly beard that Miles now wore. Dax tried to get more of a look at the boyfriend: skinny, nerdy looking, with long, curly hair tied back in a ponytail, and thick, broad-framed glasses resting on his nose. Dax almost hissed at him in jealousy. Again and again, Dax looked over as he cooked, hoping to catch Miles’ gaze, until at last it happened. He felt his entire body fill with a warm rush of excitement and his whole face surrendered to an enormous grin that conquered any suave sophistication he was trying to demonstrate.

Miles smiled back and waved but stayed where he was. It was Valentine’s night after all and he was hardly likely to come rushing over to the counter for a catch-up.

Dax chuckled as he read the orders for Table 9. Of course Miles had ordered the most fattening thing on the menu. Even in his drunken stupor, he remembered how easily the guy had taken down those cheeseburgers the last time he had seen him. No wonder his ass was so beautifully plump and juicy! The boyfriend’s salad dish was easy to prepare, but Dax crafted Miles’ meal with loving care; adding the cream and butter first and then seasoning just right. He thought of how to make it even better; deciding on adding even more butter, followed by more cream; finally gazing at the huge glossy, creamy and fat-filled dish in front of him and knowing that Miles was going to be well fed that evening.

Even with that job done, Dax couldn’t help looking over and watching as the men ate. Despite how busy they were, his mind was anywhere but on the food he was creating for the other tables. He kept looking across at Table 9, watching as Miles made his way through the dish that had been so lovingly crafted for him and feeling thankful that the manager had not seen the hideously oversized portion he had dished up. Dax could feel an excited energy within him; a strange arousal at watching Miles eating something he had prepared. He felt it most keenly in the tip of his penis, observing as Miles took in mouthful after mouthful of the dish that would undoubtedly make that beautiful butt of his even bigger and plumper by the morning. He felt it again as the dessert orders came in, elbowing the other chefs out of the way to prepare it himself and knowing exactly which one Miles had asked for. He drizzled cream and overfilled the dish with ice cream and sauce, saturating the waffle with butter and syrup before sending it out to be consumed. He smiled with delight as he watched Miles taking it down, letting his hands drift down onto his overfed stomach, feeling the strain.

Not long after finishing, the moment finally came when the boyfriend disappeared off to the bathroom and Dax could at last make his way over to say hello. As he got closer, his nerves were getting the better of him and he could feel a strange weakness in his knees. “Good to see you, Miles,” he smiled. “I hope everything was to your satisfaction?”

Miles smiled up. From this angle, Dax could see how plump and rounded his gut had grown in the last year; bloated even more this evening, to the point where one of his shirt buttons was starting to strain. “I’d heard that you were doing well in culinary school, but I had no idea you’d moved to the city!” the guy laughed. His face was filled with such genuine happiness to see him, Dax couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe his feelings were reciprocated. “It’s so great to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too,” Dax replied. “I didn’t want to come over before and get in the way of your Valentine’s Day.” He looked down and sighed a little. “You guys seem really happy together.”

“We do okay,” Miles nodded. “Tonight is a special treat for me as well. It’s the first decent meal I’ve had since the holidays. Honestly, I’d gotten so fat after Christmas! You wouldn’t have even recognised me!”

Dax raised his eyebrows. Miles had already put on so much more weight than the last time Dax had seen him. Now he was hearing that the guy had been even fatter before New Year? And yet, how was it that Dax found that idea even more arousing still? He realised that he had been silent a little too long. “You don’t need to go on a diet,” he mumbled. Perhaps the delay in answering had made the response sound a little less sincere than he had been hoping.

Miles scoffed at the comment and rubbed his belly. “You didn’t see me last Christmas!” he hooted. “I was starting to look like an absolute pig!” He pointed at the empty chair in front of him. “Sam has been helping me cut back ever since. He wasn’t too impressed when he got back from a study placement in Spain to find that I’d gained thirty pounds in two months!”

Dax felt his dick spasm, as if banging on the door of his zipper, demanding to be released. Was that really how much weight this guy could gain in just two months?

Out of the corner of his eye, Dax saw the boyfriend, Sam, starting to make his way back and he backed away in retreat. “No, trust me Miles,” he replied softly. “You’re perfect as you are.”

Maybe he had been too heartfelt in that last comment. Or, maybe he had been rude not sticking around to meet Sam. Dax had been busy working; that was his excuse. He hadn’t spent the months away pining for Miles every day, but the encounter of seeing him once more, brought back those feelings of loss he felt so keenly. What he wouldn’t give to go back in time and have his opportunity once more!

Despite the vastness of the city, Dax hadn’t needed to wait too much longer before bumping into Miles again. It happened in the most unlikely of places as well: the gym. Dax had signed up to a place close to where he lived and had managed to keep up his regular regime, even with how hard he was working for his apprenticeship in the restaurant. It was a quiet afternoon, just before summer; a Tuesday, usually the day when Dax concentrated on his upper body strength. Being close to the college campus, there were always a few hot guys for him to check out on the way to the weights area. Today, however, there was one guy walking on the treadmill with the most extraordinary shape. At an incredible width for his size, the man’s butt dominated his body, with fat spreading down into his oversized, blubbery thighs and filling up his love-handles that rippled with even more fat than was carried on his legs. With only a slow walk on the treadmill, the guy’s tight shirt was riding up, exposing the lardy flesh around his waist, meaning that it constantly had to be tugged down by the sweaty boy. With so few people in there, Dax didn’t mind standing and staring for a little while, procrastinating as he warmed up or filled up his water bottle. However, it was only when he moved a little more to the side that he caught sight of who the man actually was. There was Miles, swiping the back of his hand across his brow as he plodded; one heavy foot in front of the other. If Dax hadn’t seen him at intervals over the last couple of years, he never would have believed it was him. The transition into a fat boy had altered his body in every conceivable way. At what could easily be more than 270lbs, there was nothing left of the slim, athletic guy Dax had once known. Now, every part of his physique was swollen and puffed up with blubber, jiggling as he moved. Yet the transformation was completely beautiful: perfect and adorable. And those large, rounded, protruding glutes were exciting Dax in a way he could hardly put into words.

Dax lingered close by, not wanting to pounce on Miles right away. He watched as the guy continued his slow trot on the treadmill for another twenty minutes and then lazily sat his oversized butt down on the rowing machine for less than five. Only when Dax saw the guy was finally heading out did he spring up from the weights area and make his presence known.

Miles was clearly caught off-guard, but smiled nonetheless, tugging down his shirt once more, a little self-consciously.

“I didn’t know you came to this gym,” Dax gushed once all of the pleasantries were done with.

“I’ve just started,” Miles replied meekly. “After Sam went back to continue his placement in Spain last February, I sort of fell off the wagon a bit.” He rubbed his enlarged stomach to emphasise his point. “I’ve got a few weeks to try and sort myself out and lose a few pounds before he comes back. Poor guy can’t seem to go anywhere without me gaining at least thirty pounds whilst he’s gone.”

Dax used the opportunity to check out Miles’ body once more. He marvelled at it, failing to imagine anything better than coming home to such a large, soft, doughy physique than this one after a hard night of working in the restaurant. “Want to grab a coffee and have a proper catch-up?” he asked keenly.

“I haven’t brought a change of clothes with me,” Miles shot back, looking alarmed at the thought of going out somewhere, looking like he did.

They settled on the take away café just outside of the gym and Dax had gone up to order, forgetting that Miles had wanted a skinny latte and feeling a little guilty when he returned with a full-fat version; not that Miles would notice. They chatted for well over an hour at a bench, with Dax heading up for two more rounds of coffees.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I’ve bored you to death, talking about work,” Dax laughed, realising that he had sounded not too dissimilar to Miles when he talked about college and all the plans he had for his career in the future.

“No, not at all!” Miles smiled back. “I think it’s great that you want to open your own restaurant one day. With all of your ideas, I really think you could make a success of it!” He seemed to sit back and marvel at Dax a little bit; so different to the carefree, hedonistic partier he had known a couple of years ago: less hard around the edges, more open and embracing of making the most of life than he ever had been before. “I’m the boring one! All I’ve talked about is my PhD proposal.”

Now it was Dax’s turn to shake his head. “I think it’s great what you’re doing. Doctor Miles Green!” he grinned. “I think it suits you!” He asked more and more questions about Miles’ work and where it could take him, impressed with how knowledgeable and smart Miles was with the path he was taking.

By the time Dax went up for the fourth round of coffees, the lady behind the counter offered him two free doughnuts from the display, hoping that she might have a couple of new regular customers on her hands. “Oh, they look nice!” Miles cheered greedily, grabbing one straight away. Aside from the fact that he had been drinking the full fat lattes all afternoon, Dax knew there was likely more than double the amount of calories Miles had burned off in the gym in just that one doughnut.

“Have the other one too,” Dax insisted, pushing the paper bag towards him and feeling that strange sexual excitement as he did so.

Miles, who had been nibbling on his own doughnut, suddenly pushed it in greedily and grabbed at the next one, not needing any coaxing at all. “I don’t usually eat junk like this,” the chubby boy tried. “Usually, all I have to do is look at a doughnut and I gain five pounds!”

Dax looked at the large, flabby love handle dripping over Miles’ pinching waistband and somehow doubted that that was the case. Miles’ body was testament to his obvious greed and indulgence; beautifully plump and soft!

“Sam would go mad if he saw me eating these,” Miles mumbled guiltily as he pressed his thumb into the bag, trying to pick up any remaining crumbs or hint of icing left over.

Dax tried not to sigh. They’d gone almost two hours without talking about Miles’ boyfriend. It brought out the green-eyed monster of jealousy in him and he wished with all of his might that he could just eliminate the guy entirely. Wasn’t it obvious from today just how perfect he and Miles were for each other? “He can’t begrudge you a couple of lousy doughnuts, surely?” he asked, trying to make himself sound disgusted by the idea of Sam telling him what to eat.

“He’s been very patient. Not many guys would put up with the amount of weight I’ve put on since we got together. But he’s right, enough is enough. I need to try and get this under control.” With that, he grabbed a handful of his belly fat and began shaking it. Dax saw the fat rock all over Miles’ torso, right through his chest and even causing a slight vibration in the guy’s double chin.

Dax’s dick suddenly bounced up wildly and he jumped in alarm at the feeling, as if someone had just poked a very sharp pin into his butt. He became flustered and didn’t really know how to respond. Why was he so aroused by Miles’ body? Was it the fat? The softness? The transformation from what he used to look like?

“You should come over and try some of my recipes one night,” Dax offered, suddenly deciding that he needed to market himself as being the complete opposite to Miles’ boyfriend. If Sam was going to try and limit Miles’ intake of food, Dax was going to provide it in abundance. He described all of the dishes he had been trying to perfect, in the hope of getting them on the permanent menu at the restaurant; watching as Miles’ mouth watered with each lavish description he made. For the first time, they exchanged numbers and the date was set. The game had begun, and Dax was going to try his best to ensure that Miles would forget all about his absent boyfriend.

The excitement was still there as Dax poured in the cream and melted the butter; when he fried and glazed; sugared and drizzled. Miles’ menu was one of pure indulgence. He pictured the boy’s wide, chubby butt in the chair, growing larger and larger as he ate it all up; finding himself adjusting his crotch to stop the erection pushing against his zipper.

Miles was suitably polite about the small studio apartment Dax kept, even with the mould around the window and busted hinge on the bathroom door. “I did an hour on the treadmill so that I don’t feel too guilty about this tonight,” he grinned, sitting himself down to begin.

Dax chuckled to himself. An hour walking at Miles’ pace? That was no more than 250 calories, for sure. And there was more than that in just the pastry of this starter. Shit. He needed to stop thinking like this. He was never going to hide his arousal otherwise.

Miles’ theory that he simply needed to look at food to gain weight was proved entirely untrue. It was obvious how greedy and gluttonous he was. He ate with speed and ease, taking down the biggest portions Dax had dared to serve; even taking seconds. He offered his thoughts on each dish; surprisingly well informed, like a man who really knew his food. Slowly, bit by bit, Dax watched everything he had prepared that day disappear down the throat of his guest. It was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen.

Miles burped and slouched a little more to let his gut spread in the hope of getting more gas out. He groaned from the tightness of his belly, and yet he still ate it all, as if compelled to; those greedy, piggish eyes searching from one thing to the next.

“So, that could be a little bit sweeter and a bit more chocolate on the top?” Dax asked, as he wrote down Miles’ comments on his notepad. “They’re really handy suggestions,” he nodded. “I’ll have another go. When are you free next?”

“Well, my exams are done and I don’t have anything on until I start my PhD in the fall. So I’m free any time, really. How about tomorrow?”

Dax smirked. How long could he keep this going? How many nights could he have Miles over to flirt with and pamper like this? Maybe it was true that the way to a man’s heart was through his very overfed stomach…

“So, what does your boyfriend think about you coming over here so many nights a week?” Dax asked confidently a couple of weeks later. He and Miles had been getting on so well, reconnecting, he was finally feeling emboldened to start asking questions about how it was going down with Sam.

“He’s fine with it,” Miles replied, between bites. “He knows we’re just friends.”

Ouch! Dax thought to himself. That hurt. Still, just because Miles thought of him as a friend now, didn’t mean that that would always be the case. If nothing else, he’d successfully ruined Miles’ diet. Dax could see the impact all of his food was having; pumping more fat into those blubbery love handles and feeding the ever jiggly nipples Miles was getting. But more than that, the man just looked more… obese. There was a change to his shape. His upper arms had puffed out and softened, whilst his face was altering with the speed at which his double chin was swelling; amazing, sexy, delicious changes that never failed delight. If nothing else, he was bound to make Sam’s eyes boggle when he saw a well over 300lb Miles in a couple of weeks’ time. It made him smirk to think of pissing the guy off like that.

Miles was loving every second; Dax could tell. He loved that his opinion about the food mattered so much and that he could taste the changes each night. And in the most wonderful way, his appetite seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing night. He smiled more, laughed with increasing heartiness and indulged like no man Dax had ever known. Had it not been for the boyfriend, Dax felt there was no way they wouldn’t be sharing a bed by now.

“This is the fifth Friday night in a row you’ve either worked or spent cooking for me,” Miles chuckled. “It’s like you’ve had some sort of personality transplant. The old Dax would never have let an opportunity to party slide. Think of all the hot guys out there you’re missing out on!” he teased, scraping the last dribbles of ice cream from the bowl.

“I’ve grown out of that lifestyle in the last couple of years,” Dax nodded. He’d allowed himself to have a drink and could feel that his boner from watching Miles eat was being a little more stubborn than usual.

“You’re practically celibate these days!” Miles joked.

“So are you! You’re the one with a boyfriend living on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean!”

“Ah, but my boyfriend is back on Tuesday!” Miles countered.

Dax spat out a laugh. “For two weeks! Then you’re straight back to being sex starved, just like me!”

There was a ponderous, bemused silence between the two guys. Dax was itching to say more and might have been able to keep a lid on it, but for the three beers he had already consumed.

“I bet you can’t wait to get fucked on Tuesday,” Dax teased. “After all those months apart…”

Miles chuckled with only a little awkwardness. “He’s not really into that,” he replied with a little sadness. “He’s tried a couple of times, but it’s not his thing.”

“WHAT?!” Dax blasted with exaggerated alarm. “He doesn’t fuck you?”

“It’s not a big deal…” Miles replied, rolling his eyes and clearly wishing that he hadn’t said anything.

“A big deal?” Dax parroted back. “Of course it’s a big deal! Pounding your big ass was one of the best fucks I’ve ever had. No, actually, it was THE best. No one has ever come close to matching it.”

Miles stopped eating and looked on in shock. “Okay…” he mumbled sceptically.

Determined to keep up the momentum, Dax pressed on. “I know you enjoyed it too… having a guy who really knew how to fuck you properly?” He’d come this far, he felt like he couldn’t retreat now.

Miles seemed to consider the question and he nodded slowly, without fully committing to the answer.

“Anytime you want a replay, you just let me know…” Dax added cheekily, getting a little closer.

“What… like, you and me?” Miles asked awkwardly. “You think we should…”

Dax leaned in and smiled. Miles didn’t recoil, and so he leaned in a little more. He puckered his lips and kissed Miles on the cheek, leaning back once again to see how it had gone down. Then, upon seeing Miles give a small smile, Dax leaned back in for something much deeper on his lips. His hands ran through Miles’ hair, with one now running down his body to explore that growing belly that Dax had been desperate to caress for so long.

“You’re so beautiful,” Dax whispered, as his hand rubbed against that bloated gut and up onto Miles’ flabby chest. He felt so horny as he glanced at the empty plates and bowls on the table, knowing just how much Miles had gorged that night. He wanted to rip the guy’s shirt off and see all that fresh fat exposed. He started unbuttoning his own shirt, smiling as Miles looked on in interest as his beautiful body was revealed. Dax had worked so hard in the gym, he knew that he looked even more pumped and toned than he ever had before.

Miles’ eyes were wide with awe when he saw Dax without his shirt on. His chubby hands became more confident as the boys went in for their next kiss and Miles started moaning softly as Dax pressed his warm, athletic body up against his.

Pulling away, Dax grabbed Miles’ hand to pull him up. He wanted to get the big boy away and into his bedroom as fast as possible. But Miles didn’t get up. He sat there, confused and alarmed. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled. “I’ve got a boyfriend!”

“A guy who leaves you for months on end and doesn’t even fuck you?” Dax shot back. He suddenly felt frustrated at Miles’ hesitation. Couldn’t the guy see how pointless his loyalty was? “You know all he’s going to do is complain and bitch about how big you’re getting when he sees you.”

Dax knew he had messed up, even before Miles had a chance to react. “What’s THAT got to do with anything?” the guy eventually replied. He gazed around at the messy kitchen and seemed to see Dax as if for the first time. “Oh, is THIS what it’s really all about?” he bellowed. “You just wanted to cause trouble between us? You thought that maybe if I gained a few pounds he’d finish with me and then you could get your fuckbuddy back?”

Miles stood up in disgust. “No.. please, wait,” Dax spluttered. His tipsy brain couldn’t compute or decipher any of his feelings fast enough to put them into words. Instead, he stumbled and stuttered until Miles was gone, striding down the corridor and out of his life.

A long few months passed before Dax had the pleasure of seeing Miles again. There he was, on the treadmill at the gym, trotting at an even slower pace; with an ass that looked even more enormously wide and overfed than ever before. His love-handles bulged over the waistband of his undersized shorts and his huge, fat legs rippled with each step he made.

How many extra pounds was Miles carrying now? It wasn’t easy to tell. Maybe thirty? Fifty? He was certainly a very big man, without a trace of the fit, athletic guy he had been only a few years earlier. The thought of Jon or Cam lusting after him these days seemed absolutely preposterous.

Dax decided not to mess around this time. He marched straight over to Miles and immediately hit the stop button on the treadmill. “So, this is where you’ve got to?” he sighed. “You’ve been ignoring my messages for months. I didn’t know what the hell had happened to you!”

Miles looked down at him guiltily. “I was actually hoping I might run into you here,” he admitted, stepping down. “I felt bad about how I handled things. It was just… you know, things between me and my boyfriend weren’t great and you… you just sort of said it all, touching that nerve.”

“So, you just cut me out of your life completely?” Dax replied. Only now that he was saying it out loud did he realise how hurtful it had been.

“You were right, by the way,” Miles began. “As soon as Sam saw me he started complaining about how disgusting I looked. He spent the full two weeks grumbling and whining about how fat I had become, until I was completely sick of hearing it. In the end, I told him not to bother coming back.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dax asked, feeling awful that Miles had gone through all of that alone.

“I got it in my head that you would say ‘I told you so.’ I didn’t want to come here and potentially bump into you. So I tried to diet on my own and… well…” he raised his arms to expose how rounded his middle had become. “You can see how unsuccessful I was.”

Dax smiled with pleasure as his eyes took in the delicious sight of an even fatter Miles. “I think you look absolutely beautiful!” he exclaimed.

Miles blushed a little. “You really do like me bigger, don’t you?”

Dax felt a rush of adrenaline. “I’m done fooling around with you. I want us to be together. I’ve wanted it for such a long time: Exclusive. You and me.” He inhaled and pumped his chest out as he said it; hoping that Miles would notice just how much work he had put into his pecs over the last few months. “What do you say?”

Nodding, Miles broke into a smile that made it impossible for Dax not to grab him and kiss him right there in the middle of the gym. “Dax!” he chuckled, looking over towards the weights area where most of the pumped up guys Dax trained with were stood, watching with shocked interest. “Everyone will see us!”

Dax looked over at the guys and waved in greeting. “I don’t care who sees us.” He slipped his hands onto Miles’ hips and then onto his rounded butt, or at least as far as he could reach. “Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way. If you’ll let me, I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how proud I am to be with you.”

Once again, Miles blushed. “I’m not sure how good for my waistline it’s going to be, dating a chef…”

Dax grinned. “Oh, it’s going to be terrible for your waistline. Of that I am certain!” he teased, kissing Miles again and again and rubbing that big butt. “We might as well start letting your pants out now!”

“I think I’m going to enjoy this…” Miles whispered back.

Dax smiled, still feeling up the enormous butt he couldn’t wait to play with later. “Trust me,” he nodded confidently. “I’m going to make sure that you enjoy every single second of it…”

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herinsectreflection · 3 years

Text

The hilarious part about Faith and how incredibly gay she comes across is that it's all a natural side-effect of her intended narrative role. According to Whedon she wasn't intentionally written to be a queer or even queer-coded character, but the way she is written and her metaphorical function necessarily meant she came across as queer-coded. I'll explain what I mean:

1) As Buffy's shadow, Faith is meant to be symbolic of Buffy's repressed desires, and specifically her frustrated sexuality. Buffy is dealing with imposed chastity throughout S3, first with her trauma over Angel getting in the way of a relationship with Scott, and then the curse preventing her from being physical with Angel. It's the centre point of Enemies, its touched on in Amends, and is one of the reasons they break up. There's a reason the season climaxes with Angel and Buffy in a passionate embrace, making orgasm faces as he 'penetrates' her. It's a whole season of sexual frustration for Buffy.

Faith needs to be constantly reminding Buffy of the thing she can't have - sex. She needs to talk about sex to Buffy - and she does, extensively. Faith is written as a very sexual person in general, but it's specifically and disproportionately aimed towards Buffy, because that's her narrative role. So you end up with this character who is constantly going around like "hey Buffy do you like sex? you should think about sex now. sex. when I'm on screen the main thing on your mind should be sex and having it". Which begs the question - why does Faith want Buffy to have sex? Symbolically, it's because she represents part of Buffy, and Buffy wants to have sex. But on a pure character level... what is the explanation? What is motivating Faith to constantly talk about sex to Buffy? A few instances you can write off as her making Buffy uncomfortable for jokes, but not all of them. How it comes across is that Faith has some sexual interest in Buffy, and is probing for her feelings.

2) Faith is a Seductress. That's not a comment about her character, that's her function in the story. She is the version of Buffy who goes down a darker path, and is trying to seduce her into doing the same thing. Part of Buffy's arc in S3 is resisting this temptation, and the symbol of what she is resisting is Faith. So Faith must be an enticing, seductive figure. To quote Passion of the Nerd's review, if Faith is there to to tempt Buffy into a moral dark side, it only makes sense that she is, well, tempting. The seduction is happening on many levels.

Faith is more or less filling the Femme Fatale archetype: the seductive, sexual figure who leads the Hero off their path. It's a trope you see all the time in male-led stories, going back to goddamn The Odyssey. Buffy as a character was invented as a simple gender-swap of an old horror trope, and part of the appeal of the show is that she gets to fill the role of The Hero as a woman. So what happens when you gender-swap The Hero and don't gender-swap the Femme Fatale? You get a gay story, that's what.

3) The Faith arc of S3 is a recreation of the Angel arc of S2. It is structured in the exact same way, with the two having a push-and-pull in the early parts of the season, a setback in their relationship in episode 7, getting closest again mid-season before a night of passion that ends in sudden tragedy. Angel/Faith then turn to the dark side, become the Big Bad, and show that they are beyond saving in episode 17. The season ends with Buffy having to fight and the kill them in order to save others. This is all an intentional recycling, as part of the show building up the Trolley Problem and the idea of Buffy being a killer, repeatedly escalating it to get us to The Gift. What this means is that Faith steps into the role that Buffy's love interest played in the previous season. This is the story that we have just had told to us as a tragic love story. We see it again, and guess what? It's still a tragic love story. Only now Faith is in the role of the love interest.

4) Part of the conflict surrounding Buffy and Faith is Buffy's fear of being "Single White Female'd". She fears Faith might steal her loved ones, and Faith does threaten that. She gets along with her mother, her friends... but most of all, her love interests. Buffy's fear of being replaced manifests as Faith trying to literally seduce away anyone romantically linked to Buffy. Angel, Scott Hope, Xander, later Riley, Spike, Robin Wood... Faith is comprehensively and exclusively attracted to men that Buffy dated. I'm honestly surprised she didn't find Owen and Parker from somewhere for a night in the sack. Again, this makes perfect heterosexual sense from a symbolic point it view - she threatens to take Buffy's place in the narrative, so she takes her place in relationships - but on a character level it becomes ambiguous. Is she actively trying to replace Buffy? Or is she trying to stop Buffy dating anyone for another reason? The simple fact is, there is exactly one common denominator with all of Faith's romantic entanglements: Buffy.

It's a canonical aspect of Faith's character that she is jealous of Buffy. We see that made explicit in Enemies - she's jealous of everything Buffy has: her family, her comfortable home life, her friends, her narrative standing, and of course her loving partners. So of course Faith displays jealousy whenever Buffy is involved with a guy. It's a necessary part of building Faith as this figure of Want and Envy. But how it plays out on screen isn't that Faith is jealous of Buffy because she wants these other guys - of course not, because we see her look jealously through the window at Buffy and Riley in This Year's Girl and Riley obviously means nothing to her. Rather, it very much appears that she is jealous of these other guys, because she wants Buffy.

There's also the added bonuses that come from the show playing with so many metaphors, that sometimes they cross in interesting ways. One of Faith's main purposes is to celebrate being a Slayer, and to encourage the same in Buffy. She wants Buffy to accept and embrace being a Slayer. Here, Slayerhood is standing in for independence and hedonism and making your own rules, all the things that Faith is encouraging. But one of the many other metaphors used is the 'coming out' metaphor. "Have your tried not being a slayer?" "It's because you didn't have a strong father figure isn't it." "I've tried to march in the Slayer Pride parade." It's a note that's hit really hard specifically around the time in the show that Faith is introduced. So if you carry this metaphor on, then Faith becomes an out-and-proud lesbianSlayer, trying to convince Buffy to accept and embrace her sexuality.

And it has a recursive effect too. All this stuff contributes towards Faith feeling like a very queer character. And Faith, of course, is Buffy's shadow self, meant to represent her unconscious desires. So when the symbol of your unconscious desires is so lesbian-coded, then the implication becomes that one of your unconscious desires is lesbian desire. Faith's existence as a part of Buffy implies the existence of Buffy's bisexuality. Which contributes to the relationship feeling ever more queer, which makes Faith even gayer.

I find this absolutely hilarious, because the queer subtext was never intended. Joss Whedon apparently was annoyed that people read this into their relationship, and the commentary from the other writers that does address it tends to point to Dushku's performance. And yeah, she is definitely leaning into that in her portrayal. But the main reasons that so many people have this reading all come from the writing. It's all stuff that is integral to the point of her character. Every metaphor and function in the narrative, every symbolic purpose she has, none of it was meant to be gay and yet it all leads directly to Faith appearing to be totally and completely gay. The queerness is accidental and unavoidable. And I just find that really fucking funny.

#faith lehane #fuffy #btvs #meta #buffy summers #theme:shadow #queerness #s3

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reidscanehand · 3 years

Note

Hey there! I don't know if this counts as a prompt or not but Spencer x reader that are child free by choice? If not please ignore this and have a great day and stay safe. 😊

Of Anything

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUfem!Reader

Category: Angst/Hurt/Comfort

TW: spoilers for 9x24 “Demons”, cursing, mentions of shooting (typical CM violence), insecurity about not wanting kids

I absolutely flipping loved this request, thank you so much. It turned out way longer than I intended, but I had a ton of fun writing it! Hope you like it xx

~~~

It isn't JJ's fault. Or, it is, but she didn't mean anything by it. You know she didn't. It just...happened. On this stupid case in Texas where Spencer, of course, got hurt. You adore your husband, but it's as though he's a magnet, attracting the worst that could possibly happen at any given moment. You’ve known each other since you were 26 years old, meaning you’ve seen each other through many injuries, big and small. But this time is different because he got shot in the neck, which was a bit more scary than the usual. A lot more scary than the usual. Typically, you try to remain calm, your husband’s penchant for accidents - broken knees, sore calf muscles - keeps you on your toes enough that you almost can’t afford the emotional distress of panicking every single time. But this is too near fatality to think about and you can only wish and hope he’ll be okay.

So now you and Alex wait, terrified for what might happen to Spencer, confused and befuddled and angry, incapable of doing anything, really, while waiting at the hospital.

You’ve stepped away from Alex who very kindly and understandingly gave you some space. No word from any one - no nurse or doctor - is stressing you so badly you almost can’t stop crying. You’d made it through two or three forced conversations with Alex before dissolving into tears every single time, then she’d mentioned something about running to grab a coffee and returned with a tea for you that she dropped off before crossing to the other side of the waiting room, all done with a small, understanding smile, allowing you a moment to breathe on your own. You calm down a bit, but you’re almost too scared to speak, afraid you won’t be able to do anything but cry.

JJ enters suddenly, clearly just as worried as the both of you. She meets your eyes, but seeing the pain and concern there, she turns to Alex, sitting across from the woman before quietly asking, “Anything?”

“Nothing,” Alex answers plainly, but quietly. She shifts slightly in her seat, clearly trying to keep you away from this - from anything that might make your already fragile nerves kick back into high gear.

JJ shifts uncomfortably in her seat, toying with the FBI windbreaker in her lap, “Spence would’ve read like two books by now. Maybe three.”

“It should’ve been me,” Alex almost whispers.

“Or me. Or any of us,” JJ agrees.

“No,” Alex says slightly louder, finally making eye contact with JJ. “He pushed me out of the way.”

You look at the two women, JJ meets your eyes, but doesn’t say anything. She looks back at Alex.

Alex moves in her chair again, restlessly, “If he doesn’t make it-”

“He’ll make it,” JJ cuts her off, louder than she’s been this whole time.

“He has to,” Alex agrees, nodding, clearly holding back some tears. “He’s just...he’s too young.”

“Yeah,” JJ’s eyes flick to you and back to Alex. “There’s still things for him to do.”

There’s an awkward silence. You almost say something, you almost join in the conversation. And then JJ says it.

“You know he wants kids?” she asks Alex. “Can you imagine Spence as a dad?”

Suddenly you can barely hear again, everything sounds like you’re in a tunnel, moving further and further away from reality.

“Well,” Alex chuckles, her voice happy but distant, “that’d be the luckiest kid in the world.”

“No doubt,” JJ agrees. You feel as though you can’t breathe. A whirlwind of emotions running through your entire body. You want to scream, to cry, and throw up all at once.

“Hey,” Penelope greets as she enters the waiting room. “Oh, honey.” She crosses to you immediately and, though you’d longed to be alone just minutes ago, nothing feels better than a Penelope Garcia hug at this moment. You cling to her tighter than you ever have, tears pouring down your face before you even realize you’re crying.

“Sweetheart,” she coos, pulling you tighter.

“Thank you for being here,” you manage to rasp around your tears.

“Turns out we’re not the only ones connected,” she teases softly, pulling back to look at your face. She searches your face for a minute, and you hope she can’t see the sudden insecurity kicked up by JJ, but you know she can. She does, however, move on quickly, “He’s got a friend with a plane.”

You look up and see your new unit chief, Mateo Cruz, entering the waiting room.

“Anything?” he asks JJ and Alex, glancing at you and nodding in sympathy before turning back to the ladies. Penelope pats your arm and presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging you gently towards the rest of the group.

“Still in surgery,” Alex almost whispers, clearly conscious of your presence.

A nurse enters suddenly announcing that Derek is well enough to see people now. Penelope, JJ, and Cruz look at each other and then at you and Alex.

“If you don’t mind,” you rasp quietly, “I’d like to stay here.”

“Of course,” Cruz nods immediately.

“I’ll stay too,” Alex adds. She reaches down and tugs your hand into yours, squeezing it. You squeeze back with not quite as much strength, but enough to let her know you appreciate her support.

Cruz and JJ both request to be updated by Alex, but Penelope squeezes your shoulders and looks at Alex seriously, promising, “I’ll be right back.”

The second the three of them are around the corner, you burst into tears again.

“Oh, Y/N,” Alex whispers, sitting the both of you down and pulling you into her shoulder allowing you to cry more. “Sweetheart, he’ll be okay.”

“God, I hope so,” you cry. But you can’t tell her. You can’t tell her that you’re not just crying because your husband was shot in the neck. You’re crying because of what JJ said and now you’re riding the line between being emotional and having a panic attack. Your thoughts are racing uncontrollably now...because you thought you and your husband were on the same page, but now your mind is whispering doubts. What if he wants kids and doesn’t feel like he can tell you? What if he survives this only to live a life he hates? What if he resents you? What if he’s falling out of love with you?

~~~

It is rare that Spencer gets really and truly angry. But right now he is truly angry. He can barely hear anything, his heartbeat and even his goddamn footsteps are thundering too loudly to hear much else, as he marches to JJ’s desk.

“Jennifer,” he states abruptly. The blond woman looks up, confused by his tone, “A word?”

He doesn’t give her time to answer before he stalks to an empty office, pushing inside and sitting on the edge of the desk just as JJ enters the room.

“Spence, wha-”

“What the fuck did you say to my wife?” he asks, practically spitting he’s so mad.

“What on earth are you talking about?” JJ replies, looking genuinely confused. “I haven’t talked to Y/N in-”

“In four weeks, right?” Spencer cuts her off again. “Fucking same!”

He stands and JJ backs up, but he doesn’t even look at her, instead beginning to pace back and forth.

“Spence, I-”

“It’s been four weeks,” he talks over her, barely acknowledging her presence now. “Four weeks since we got home from Texas, four since Alex left, and two since my neck was officially healed, and do you know what’s been happening in the Reid household?”

It’s off-putting that he’s asked her a question and she’s not sure she’s meant to answer until he’s silent for a beat longer.

“Um...celebrating?” she guesses, knowing it’s wrong based on his tone.

“You would think that, wouldn’t you? But no!” Spencer is still pacing relentlessly, clearly furious. “Y/N has barely spoken two sentences to me at a time since we got home. And our conversations have been limited to work and the weather.”

JJ shifts her weight between her feet awkwardly, “So...so what does that have to do with me?”

“Because I finally noticed that she hasn’t spoken to you since Texas and I want to know what the hell you said to her,” Spencer explains, still pacing, still angry.

“Jesus Christ, Spence, please!” JJ finally yells, exasperated. “Please stop moving!”

There’s a rather dreadful silence. Spencer jaw tightens a bit, but he stops moving, crossing back and sitting on the edge of the desk again.

“Fine,” Spencer finally says. He sighs deeply, looking down at his hands, “Look, I’m sorry...it’s just...I’ve wracked my brain for weeks trying to figure out what I could’ve said that would’ve...upset her. I noticed she was giving you the silent treatment as well and I was hoping that...that maybe you knew.”

JJ pauses, thinking as hard as she can, “Spence, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I’ve upset Y/N somehow, but I...I can’t think of anything, honestly.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice now quiet and small. “Did you guys talk at all while I was in surgery?”

“Well, yes, of course,” JJ supplies quickly. “Come to think of it, that might be the last time she and I really spoke. Though, we didn’t talk much then, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asks carefully.

“Nothing bad,” JJ assures him. “It’s...well, she was pretty inconsolable, Spence. She wasn’t really talking much to anybody.”

Spencer swallows harshly at that. He’d heard bits and pieces from Alex and Penelope and every tidbit more made him feel worse. He knew little more than what had greeted him when he woke up, which had been his wonderful wife sobbing in relief at his bedside. He’d shushed her, assured her all was well, and she’d clung to him. The attempts on his life made after that had nearly done her in, he was sure of it, and the guilty feelings had yet to dissipate. In fact, her relative silence and the awkwardness of their household only made the guilt worsen.

“I talked with Alex more than Y/N,” JJ continues. “Neither of us wanted to freak her out too much. And it wouldn’t be helpful to just keep repeating that no one had said anything and that you were still in surgery.”

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees. “Do you...did you and Alex say anything to her?”

“No,” JJ responds, still clearly just as much at a loss as him. “Nothing. She was sitting away from Alex actually, I think she needed space.”

Spencer nods, still deep in thought.

“Alex was pretty upset, too,” JJ adds quietly. “She thought it was her fault. Said you’d pushed her out of the way.”

“I did, but it wasn’t her fault,” Spencer sighs, upset that he can’t find a more straightforward explanation for why his wife has grown so distant. “Do you think...maybe...maybe this one was a step too far?”

“What do you mean, Spence?” JJ asks gently, leaning on the desk next to him.

“I mean...I mean, I-I know that I get...that I have a tendency to...get hurt,” Spencer whispers, desperately trying not to cry.

“We all do, Spence,” JJ encourages him.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “but I know that my-my track record isn’t...great.”

“You do have a few extra notches than the rest of us on the old ‘hurt on a case’ bedpost,” JJ jokes, chuckling at how bad her own joke was.

But Spencer doesn’t laugh, still staring down at his hands, running his left thumb over his wedding ring, “What if...what if this was too much? What if it was too close this time?”

“Spencer, Y/N knows the risks of this job,” JJ assures him, “just like you do. It’s not like she’s never gotten hurt before.”

“I know, but...” he trails off. “But we’re always worried about what could happen and-and-”

“Well, of course,” JJ agrees understandingly, “we all worry about stuff like that. And you two have only been married for two years. You’ve still got stuff to do. That’s what we were talking about in the hospital, if anything.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, finally looking at JJ.

JJ shrugs, “Just that you’re...you’re so young. You still have things to do in life, like...like have kids and-”

“What did you say?” Spencer asks, his tone slightly sharper.

“That you still have stuff to do,” JJ responds, confused.

“JJ,” Spencer starts slowly, “I don’t want kids.”

“Wait, what?” the blond asks, completely befuddled. “But you always-you’re so good with kids! I just assumed-”

“I am good with kids,” Spencer explains, very slowly, clearly trying to control his temper. “And I love my godsons, but Jennifer, I don’t want kids. And neither does Y/N.”

JJ’s eyes grow very wide as she realizes, “Oh no, oh God, Spence, I never meant to-”

“I was in danger,” Spencer says slowly, “and you and Alex were talking about how I want kids while my wife was trying not to panic?”

“We didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” Spencer stands, straightening his shoulders and not looking back at JJ. “But, at least I know what’s going on.”

“Spencer, I’m sorry,” JJ rasps, clearly almost near tears.

“It’s...it’s okay,” he replies quietly. “Just don’t...don’t assume things about people.”

He exits without turning back to look at her.

~~~

“Y/N?” Spencer calls as he enters their apartment. You’d taken the afternoon off for a doctor’s appointment, leaving Spencer to ride the metro home alone for the first time in ages.

“In the kitchen,” you call, your voice sounding just as hollow as it has been all month.

He enters the kitchen to see you standing at the window, a mug of tea abandoned on the table. He takes a moment to admire you, the woman he’s loved for so long. The woman he built this life with. The woman he was suddenly terrified to lose.

“I missed you today,” Spencer says quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist. You freeze briefly, but sink into his hold, your hands clutching his.

“Did you really?” you ask, your voice so quiet he almost doesn’t hear you.

He pulls you closer, able to look down into your face now, “Of course I did.”

“I missed you, too,” you reply softly, but timidly.

The two of you stand for only a moment, then Spencer sighs, running his thumbs on your hands, “Did you know that this is exactly the life I always dreamed of?”

You hum in response and Spencer can tell your lost in thought.

He leans his head onto your shoulder and whispers, “This one, right here. Just you and me.”

You freeze suddenly, slowly turning in his arms to face him, “Who told you?”

“I spoke with Jennifer,” he replies simply, still clutching your hands in his. “She didn’t know that she…she didn’t know she was wrong.”

“But was she?” you ask, tears already in your eyes.

“Y/N,” he breathes, pulling you into a hug. Thankfully you don’t pull away, sobbing the anxieties of the past month into his shoulder.

“I-I can’t-“ you hiccup because you’re crying so hard, “I can’t be someone you grow to hate.”

“I could never hate you, darling,” he assures you quietly.

“But-but JJ s-said that you want-“

“Jennifer,” he cuts you off gently, rubbing a reassuring hand up and down your back, “didn’t know what she was talking about.”

You’re silent, so Spencer chooses to continue, “There may have been a time in my life where I thought about kids, but, Y/N, I don’t want or need to be a dad.”

“Are you…you’re not just saying that? Because I would never want you to be unhappy with me,” you rasp after a moment.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, “I could never ever be unhappy with you.”

You chuckle drily, still sniffing, but clearly calmer, “Even when I’m a horrible, emotional mess like this?”

Spencer hugs you even tighter, dropping a kiss on your shoulder.

"It's intoxicating," Spencer whispers into your shoulder, pressing a kiss in the wake of his words. He pulls away finally, cupping your face in his hands, staring down at you in awe.

"What is?" you ask in spite of yourself, almost cringing as another tear falls despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. Spencer seems to think nothing of it, wiping it away and caressing your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours.

"How human you are," he replies. "How real you are. I never ever want you to feel like you are not enough for me. Because...because this life? The one we have together? Y/N, it's all I have ever and all I will ever want."

"Are you-”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Spencer cuts you off, assuring you before you can even speak the worry into existence.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then rests his forehead against yours and meets your eyes, “Of anything.”

~~~

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#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x y/n #spencer x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid request #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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p-antomime · 3 years

Text

just so fine.

— minors don’t interact

— wc: 4,7K

content + warnings: 18+, including: dilf!toji, manhandle, spitting, daddy kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of school girl!reader maybe, breeding kink, overstimulation, squirting, degradation, age gap, a bit of size kink, thigh riding

pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader

— note: this is a bit inspired by: Love Without Tragedy by Rihanna. — jjk masterlist.

Red lipstick and a broken heart trying to be concerted by the petals of your conscience and your friends who said that "he didn't deserve you anyway". And honestly, you didn't know where exactly you were getting the strength from to get out of bed that Monday and go take a shower before heading painfully to your first class in the morning.

He used to be the boy you loved with every cell of your body and soul, he stole the best years of your freshman life at the university, and now you were a senior who had neither the animation nor the patience to welcome the incoming freshmen that year. Despite having Kugisaki and Megumi fervently cheering you on while Itadori was too busy still dealing with the problem of sending documents to the college, your heart was still fatally wounded and your dignity no longer existed as your tears had wiped it off the face of the earth during that morning shower and you couldn't help but be tempted to put on makeup good enough to mask your dark circles under your eyes and downcast face.

"Are you coming today?", Nobara asked excitedly on the other end of the line as you were already leaving the house and taking the long way to college.

— Do I have the option of not going?

"No, of course not.", Nobara replied with a slight laugh that was well intended to cheer you up a bit, "We can have a movie night tonight, to cheer you up."

— At whose house? At mine that won't be, it's a mess. — You grumbled.

"At Megumi's or Itadori's, of course. During lunch I'll buy soda and food with Yuuji and you convince Megumi to let us break into his house today.”

— Why do I have to convince Megumi? You came up with the idea.

"Because I'll be busy, simple. And Fushiguro doesn't take me seriously.", and then you sighed heavily, already noticing that you were less than a block away from entering the college grounds.

— Okay, I see what I can do.

Kugisaki told you that she was waiting for you in the classroom, and you replied that you were already there. And then something distinctive caught your attention. It was strangely easy to spot something different in the landscape of the university entrance because usually it was always the same: university students rushing to settle personal matters or to classes they are late for, or also students who came to see what the college was like before the university application period.

But today was different. There was a tall man fully dressed in black and gray leaning against a motorcycle that looked as if it had been taken from an action movie because it was so well equipped and large. He looked relaxed, and yet he still possessed an aura that could kill you with a single punch. Attractive and devilishly dangerous with that leather jacket highlighting his strong arms and broad shoulders. Forcing your eyes a little, you could notice a scar close to one of the corners of his lips.

— What's the matter, little girl? — His deep voice reaches your ears, but your mind whispers to you that he probably wasn't talking to you at the same time that your heart starts to beat out of control and your head turns from side to side trying to check if there is someone behind you. — Yeah, I'm talking to you. — He smiled sideways.

— Uh... hmm... none, sorry. — Your cheeks started to heat up and you wanted to punch yourself in the stomach because usually a simple man couldn't disconcert you like that, and then your eyes fell on his collarbones, well marked by the black shirt he wore under his jacket, and your mouth suddenly felt too dry.

— What exactly are you apologizing for? — The man asked as he placed one of the helmets on the motorcycle seat, if there were two helmets maybe he brought some college girl? — For eating me with your eyes or staring at me? — And then you choked on your saliva and coughed desperately for air trying not to drop the folders in your hands and he seemed amused by your reaction.

— I-I... — Your fingers squeezed the folders and you had to look away to think straight. — I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn't mean to.

— I am not, it's great to be lusted after by younger girls. — He replied, but before he had a chance to continue his onslaught someone approached from the diagonal.

— Dad! — And then you choked again seeing that the one who was referring to the man in front of you as "dad" was Megumi. — Oh, Y/N? — He looked confused looking from you to his own father. — Anyway, they didn't have what you wanted at the pharmacy, next time you'll buy it yourself. — The young Fushiguro spoke to the older man, but seconds later, noticing the mortifying silence that settled over the place as you stared at his father, he spoke up: — And we are almost late already, let’s go, Y/N. — Megumi took one of your arms and started to guide you away from the motorcycle and closer to the interior of the college.

— You never told me you were interested in girls. — His father shouted more to embarrass his son than you, but the effect was the opposite, since you were the one with the burning cheeks.

— Shut up, Toji. — Megumi shouted back as he continued walking. — Did he say shit to you? — He asked you when the two of you were already walking down the halls to your classroom for the first class of the morning.

— Not really, no. He seems... fine. — You tried to talk as if you didn't have dirty thoughts running through your mind especially after remembering the older man's collarbones and scar, and still Megumi gave you an accusing look.

— Don't try to fuck my father, that's disgusting. - Your eyes widened.

— I wasn't thinking that, you idiot. — And then Megumi let out a loud laugh.

— I know, I was just trying to amuse you. — He shrugged and left you standing in front of the door. — See you at lunch?

— Yes, of course. — You answered, and then suddenly remembered Nobara's request on the phone earlier. Your hand held one of his arms so that he wouldn't walk away without listening to you. — Megumi, can we have a movie night at your place tonight? Nobara came up with the idea of doing this to cheer me up a bit. — He seemed to become suddenly tense.

— I'll have to at least let Toji know that there will be people coming home today. — Megumi answered vaguely and shrugged. — I'll send a message to Kugisaki and let her know if it's on or off.

Nodding your head positively, you gave your friend a slight smile, and then for the rest of the day your mind concentrated on paying attention to your classes, your scheduled seminars and the pile of work you still had to do. There was no time for your heart to pound with grief over the loss of your now ex-boyfriend, but there were several minutes when you had to chase away persistent thoughts of Megumi's dad. But looking at him wasn't enough, your hands wanted to explore his body and leave marks everywhere, that's what you thought until you felt ashamed, pushed the thoughts away for a few brief minutes and then thought about it again. In a vicious loop.

When you were having lunch with Itadori, Fushiguro and Kugisaki, your head tried to focus on their conversation as much as possible, but looking at the man with black hair and beautiful eyelashes reminded you of Toji and your hands started to break into a cold sweat. It had been a frustrating, tiring day, but secretly you were a little excited to see your friend's father again.

— Don't take too long, okay? — Nobara spoke after dropping you off and leaning against the hallway wall, and you nodded positively before going to your room to pack a backpack with some pajamas and an outfit in case you and the other two friends ended up falling asleep while you were at Megumi's house.

It didn't take long before you two were ringing the doorbell of the Fushiguro’s house and from the loud sound from inside the house you both could tell Yuuji had already arrived. Suddenly, Y/N felt nervous not knowing who would answer the door. Would it be Toji? "Damn", you thought as you saw exactly him calmly opening the door. This time he wasn't wearing very dark clothes, it was just gray sweatpants and a white v-neck shirt that still highlighted his beautiful collarbones.

— Is that them? — Itadori shouted from another room in the house.

— Yes. — Megumi, who was looking at the two girls standing in the doorway over Toji's shoulder, answered. — You may come in.

Toji moved to the side letting you two into the house and, using the personal excuse of being embarrassed, Y/N walked in with her head down. And partly, in fact, it was true that you were embarrassed, but your mind knew that your eyes wanted to take a good look at the older Fushiguro's thighs and cock. It was impossible not to look at those parts of his body, especially with that kind of pants.

But then Toji gave himself the right to go up the stairs to the upper floor of the house and out of your field of vision when Megumi asked you and Nobara which movie you wanted to watch and she answered that a drama movie. And then the four of you started to watch the movie comfortably, until you started to feel the straps of your own bra start to press painfully against the skin of your shoulders.

— Can I go to the bathroom? — Y/N asked Megumi, who pointed to the steps of the staircase diagonally across from the sofa.

— First door on the left. — You nodded and walked up the stairs carrying your backpack, intending to get rid of your bra and also put on the comfortable pajama top that had been brought.

From the hallway you could hear the low sound of another TV escaping through the gap in a tall door. It was probably Toji's room, such a thought raced through your mind, and you shrugged as you entered the bathroom, leaned against the door, and began to remove your bra and change into your shirt. It was inevitable to sigh in relief as you felt your shoulders less tense and sore and your hands groped your breasts just for the personal pleasure of feeling them free now.

— Hmm, may I come in? — A muffled voice was heard behind the door and instinctively you quickly removed your hands from your breasts.

— Just a minute. — Y/N answered, shoving the previously worn blouse into her backpack and almost running toward the door, slowly opening it.

You looked forward and found yourself facing a bare hard chest as you waited to see a long hallway with four different doors. Toji was now shirtless in front of you and your cheeks burned a little, which got a little worse when your brain short-circuited, your hand rested two fingers against the warm, somewhat soft skin of his chest, and you pulled away slightly so that you could look him in the eye.

— I'm sorry. — Your hand finished opening the door and there was again a sideways smile on Toji's lips

— Are you going to sleep here? — He asked, sliding his gaze over her shoulders, breasts and abdomen freely, without any embarrassment.

— No, actually. I just changed my shirt to be more comfortable.

— Got it. — Toji looked you straight in the eyes again, but yours were already gliding across his face until you found the scar close to his lips.

— How did you get this scar? — You felt the need to prolong the conversation just to get a better record of his face.

— You're pretty curious for someone apparently shy. — He remarked, his eyes sparkling with a gleam that you couldn't quite identify what it was. — When I was younger, we could say I wasn't the friendliest person in the whole world, so I got into a few fights. — Toji shrugged, as if this was not relevant information

How old are you? — A mischievous smile slowly drew on his lips.

— Old enough to be your dad.

"Then maybe I can call you Daddy", was the first thing you thought, but there wasn't enough courage in you to flirt shamelessly, especially with Megumi or the other two able to eavesdrop from downstairs.

— I think I've been here with you long enough. — Y/N answered, putting the backpack on her back and walking past Toji, but just as her feet were about to start down the steps, the older Fushiguro called her out.

— I think you forgot something, little girl. — You turned back in confusion, and in his hands was your bra. Toji threw the piece of clothing toward you through the air without much force to fall gently onto your palms that had opened toward him. — The next time you forget something like that inside my house, I'll keep it for myself. — You frowned, assuming that he was implying that there was possibly something between you and his son.

— Me and Megumi, we don't... — Your shoulders shook without your mouth finishing the sentence.

— I wasn't talking about him exactly, you're very naive, not that that's a problem for me. — He went into the bathroom and eventually you were alone again.

Feeling more embarrassed than the first time you had seen Toji earlier at the university entrance, you joined your friends again in the middle of the movie and were grateful that none of them had bothered to ask if anything had happened in the bathroom because of your delay. Eventually Nobara fell asleep on your shoulder after eating two pieces of the pizza Megumi had asked his father to buy, and Yuuji began to yawn almost pushing the son of the owner of the house off the couch.

— I knew they would both end up sleeping. — Megumi grumbled, pushing Itadori aside and getting up from the sofa. — There are two guest bedrooms upstairs, you and Nobara can use both of them and Yuuji sleeps with me, or one of you can sleep with me and the other and Itadori in the other bedrooms.

— I think it's better that Yuuji better sleep with you. — Y/N replied looking at Kugisaki, who was starting to fall off her shoulder.

And then Fushiguro woke the almost sleeping Itadori to go upstairs while he carried Nobara up the stairs and you accompanied him carrying both your and your friend's backpack. After tidying Kugisaki up in bed and getting Yuuji changed, Megumi spoke to you before leaving you alone in the guest room:

— If you feel hungry, you can go in the kitchen and get something to eat during the night. And, well, you already know where the bathroom is, and so does my room. If anything happens during the night, you can call me or him. — Megumi pointed to the door of Toji's bedroom, and you nodded positively.

And then you laid lazily on the slightly uncomfortable bed in the room and tried to relax. Almost, almost, sleep caught up with you, but your evil brain began to make you think about the fact that Toji was only a few miserable doors away, and the anxiety began to corrupt you rapidly, like a corrosive acid. But even though you wanted to go knock on his door, you forced yourself to sleep, especially since the day had been exhausting.

The next day, just like the rest of the week, Y/N didn't get to see Megumi's dad, and he didn't make much of a point of talking about his father either, after all, why would his friends be interested in him, right? All the other days of the week, her mind focused more on trying not to think about her ex-boyfriend and also not to think about Toji, just college business.... And then came the next Thursday of the successive week.

And there was Toji Fushiguro, leaning against his big motorcycle, but this time with only one helmet and different clothes. Honestly? You didn't know if you should go talk to him or not, if you should just walk right by or not. But, in the end, your mind tricked you into choosing the second option, and your feet awkwardly made their way to the college with your eyes struggling not to check the man's reactions.

— Can I have your number, little girl? — Toji asked in a tone loud enough for you to hear.

— What? — You looked away, wringing your hands nervously.

— I asked if I could have your number. — One of his hands swung his cell phone toward you.

The first thought that crossed your mind was, "What if someone sees us together and tells Megumi?", but honestly, Megumi probably wouldn't be interested in your sex or love life, even if it was with his father.

— Maybe, if you take me for a motorcycle ride today.

— You're wearing a skirt, are you sure you'd want to do that? — Toji suppressed a playful laugh. — You could have a ride somewhere more comfortable than my motorcycle today.

You narrowed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, realizing that you were entering dangerous territory in a game of seduction that Toji knew and played better than you.

— Will Megumi be at home?

— He has an internship today. — Toji replied, drumming his fingers on his helmet.

— Wait for me after four o'clock then. — You replied and walked back toward the college as you felt his eyes fixed on your ass.

Throughout the day you felt uncomfortably nervous and Nobara even asked you if everything was okay several times at different times. The only answer your mind formulated was a simple positive head movement, because honestly you felt embarrassed to be interested in a friend's dod, even though this father was extremely attractive and did not reject your shy and restrained advances. He was just so nice, fine.

Fine enough to make you press your thighs together to try to relieve the sexual tension as your legs walked towards the Fushiguro house. And when you got there, it didn't take long to see Toji opening the door wearing only black sweatpants. You went inside and closed the door, nervously watching the older man, who sat comfortably on the sofa in the living room and called out to you with his index finger. As you stopped in front of him, one hand patted his lap and the other was placed on your thigh covered by your skirt. Slowly, Y/N took her seat sitting on his covered cock.

— Why do you look so tense, hm? — Toji asked, squeezing your thigh without too much force and you moved slightly against his hip. — Are you a virgin by any chance? — Your cheeks heated up.

— N-No, you just make me nervous. — Y/N replied, shrugging slightly.

— Do I? — He pretended to be surprised as he slid his hand up her skirt and pushed his fingertips against her covered pussy. — Do I make you get your panties wet too? — Toji pressed his hips against hers and her hands rested on his shoulders for a few brief seconds.

— Fuck, yes. — You groaned, taking your fingers to the buttons of your shirt to undo them. — I've been thinking about you more than I should, I've been thinking about everything about you.

— So, why don't you show me how much you've been thinking about me, huh? — Fushiguro pulled her panties aside and stroked her pussy in slow circular motions while he brought his other hand to her face and pulled her closer to his. — Show me how much you want me and cum on my fingers like the dirty slut I know you can be. — His thumb slowly brushed over your lips and you opened them, your mouth filled by long fingers.

You grabbed his wrist close to your intimacy and guided two of his digits into your interior. And, fuck, they filled you so well. Toji's fingers were thicker and longer than yours, so the times he repeatedly curved them inside your cunt, their tips easily brushed and pressed that spot that made you roll your eyes having your body spasm with pleasure. "What a beautiful vision", the man would be thinking as he watched his beautiful college girl choking on his fingers while being fucked by the others.

However, he didn't move his hand against you much, meaning that he let you choose the pace and intensity, until you whimpered against his neck in a silent request for his fingers to move against you:

— Please, Toji, move your fingers. — Y/N said as she pulled away from Toji's digits that were preventing her from speaking and forced her hips against his hand.

— Can't you cum on your own? — He asked squeezing your chin to make you keep your mouth open. — Pathetic. — Toji spat on your tongue and closed your mouth to force you to swallow. — Pathetic slut. — And then he began to finger you in a relentless rhythm.

If Fushiguro wanted to make you cum in his hand, that's exactly what he got, and he even got a great view of your trembling body, your breasts rising and falling rapidly because of your rapid breathing and your head falling back in an intense pleasure you didn't know your body could achieve. While you were still clouded by ecstasy, his fingers snuck up to finish removing your panties and getting rid of your clothes covering your upper body. He wanted you only in your skirt.

— Look at my pet slut with her beautiful cunt leaking. — His fingers spread the folds of your pussy to see you twitching around just at his obscene words. — Just so nice. — Toji pressed the thumb against your sensitive clit and gave you a smirk before he sat you down on one of his thighs, began to move you there and also slowly stimulated your clit.

His body leaned down and his lips latched onto your breasts, sucking and licking them more intensely as your hips moved faster against his thigh. And occasionally Fushiguro would pull up her skirt and slap her ass hard enough to leave several finger marks across her skin; and it was on one of his slaps that a short, gasping, "Daddy" sneaked out from between your lips and hit Toji's mind as a twinge of intense pleasure coursed through his entire body.

— Say that again. — He ordered, grabbing her neck with the hand that had been slapping her ass before.

— Daddy... — Y/N groaned breathlessly as she continued to move her hips against Toji's thigh in a desperate attempt to cum again.

— Keep calling me that, be a good little whore for me. — His other hand continued to stimulate your clit, now at a more intense pace that managed to push you straight into the abyss of a orgasmic pleasure that you so desperately needed.

After that, Fushiguro held you still in place as he continued to press his fingers against your clit. He definitely wanted to bring you close to the level of almost passing out from so much lust running freely through your body, and so your legs instinctively closed around his hand. At the same time that you desperately needed to breathe because you felt like your lungs were burning from your intense panting, every fiber of your body was still clamoring for the stimulation that only Toji could give you at the moment, so it wasn't hard for him to force your legs open again with a sly smile on his lips:

— Come on, my pretty girl, give me everything you've got. — He made scissor-like movements against her walls and her hips automatically forced themselves against Toji's palm, even though her intimacy was already quite sensitive.

— Daddy, please... please, more, daddy... — Y/N sank her face into the curve of Toji's neck trying to stifle her own moans.

— What a great fuck toy you are. — His fingers curved and you gasped, feeling again that same pressure as before against your bottom that indicated that your third orgasm was approaching. — No matter how much I make you cum you keep asking for more.

And the more he moved his fingers frantically against your pussy, the more you felt your thoughts disappear completely and all that was left was only Toji Fushiguro, and his fingers, and the cocky smile he had no matter what the situation was. Those same fingers that made you squirt for the first time against his abdomen in a third, overwhelming orgasm and your cheeks heat up violently, especially after seeing Toji bring them to his lips looking more than just satisfied with his work with you. Fuck, you could fuck him several times, you could pass out from pleasure, and you still wouldn't ask him to stop or slow down with you.

— Think you can handle one more, pretty girl? — He asked, his hands reaching for his pants and underwear.

— Yes, Daddy. — Y/N tried to speak as firmly as possible with her heavy breathing.

Toji put one hand on your waist and the other on your chin and took the opportunity to pull you in for a kiss as he entered you slowly, which made you lose some focus on the kiss and moan against his mouth as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders. He didn't let you get too used to the recent intrusion and started thrusting himself against you hard.

After leaving yours, his mouth slid down your neck and shoulders to leave sucking and biting the area before placing the hand that was on your chin on your neck. Eventually yours moans went from simple gasps and sighs to little "Daddy" that made Fushiguro's dick twitch against yours insides several times and grunts escape his lips.

— I will breed you like the desperate little whore that you are. — Toji stroked hard against you while squeezing your neck a little harder. — I bet you're going to love this, aren't you?

— Y-Yes, daddy, breed me, please. — Y/N moved her hips against his while maintaining eye contact with the older man's predatory eyes. — Fill me up completely, until I'm leaking.

Toji squeezed your waist tightly, tilted your body slightly until your hips arched a bit, and started a rhythm of thrusts against you that as a result made your mind go blank and your nails leave scratches on his shoulders. And your fourth orgasm didn't even take long to hit you almost as hard as the third because your whole body had been extremely sensitive for a long time; after fucking that man incessantly you would definitely be addicted to him, to his touch, to his dick, to his lips. Everything about him was addictive.

After making you cum for the fourth time, Fushiguro kept thrusting inside you until his cock forcefully contracted against you and filled you full of cum. By that point you had definitely become just a bunch of holes for him to fuck, and if your body wasn't already so sensitive you might want him to actually fill every possible place in your body with cum. When he withdrew his dick from inside your pussy, Toji pulled your hips up to watch the white liquid escape your entrance and used his fingers to push it into you again.

— Come here. — He patted his chest lightly, and you leaned your sweaty body against his as you lifted your head to look at him. His hands caressed your body and soon you found yourself being carried up the stairs. — I'm going to give you a long shower, and then I'll take you home. — Toji left a gentle kiss against your forehead, and you felt more comfortable than you really should have in his arms.

— Thank you, daddy. — You replied, and he couldn't suppress a satisfied smile.

And maybe from then on you continued to take advantage of the times when Megumi wasn't home or you weren't so busy with college to spend hours together.

#toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen toji #i4nanami #daddy toji #toji supremacy #tw.daddy kink

1K notes · View notes

quindolyn · 3 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could write a sub!regulus X Dom!fem reader fic?

One where it’s angsty as Regulus had been acting different around the reader, and eventually after being questioned about it alone, Regulus breaks down and admitting his parents forced him to get the dark mark (there was nothing he could do about it), and the reader comforts him while they fuck. Regulus had been through a lot and the reader wants him to know that they love him.

Including: praise kink, subspace regulus, scar/mark kissing, aftercare for regulus, riding, and anything else you think would suit this situation <3

Resilience || Regulus Black

Word Count: 6154

A/N: Do I hate this? Yes, most definitely, without a doubt. Did I only proof read 5/15 pages. Yes, again, certainly. But I'm tired and I'm with my friend so it's not gonna get better than this. I love you all and hope you enjoy it

warnings: pretty much included in the ask, can't really think of anything else

Being light on your feet it doesn’t appear as though Regulus notices you tip toeing your way across the Slytherin common room. As you come up behind him you peer over his shoulder; he has his legs tucked beneath him with what appears to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook resting in his lap. Standing over his shoulder you let your eyes scan across the pages laid open and what you first believed to be a chapter on counter curses you realized was actually detailing how to cast the curse.

Realizing what you’d just read you let out a small, involuntary gasp that catches the attention of the boy sitting in front of you.

“(Y/N)!” Regulus quickly exclaims, glancing over his shoulder before slamming the book closed and sliding it into his book bag which sits next to him on the plush, green velvet sofa.

“What was that Reg?” You ask, brow furrowed as your eyes lock onto Regulus’ grey ones.

“Just a book love, that’s all.”

“Your Defense textbook?” You ask, hoping he would slide it back out of his satchel to show you the familiar scarlet cover you’d scratched your initials into on the bottom right hand corner.

“Something of the sort,” He answers vaguely, pushing himself off the couch to face you. Instead of making his way around the couch to meet you he stayed on the other side of the piece of furniture. Feet planted, hands fiddling with each other while instead of making eye contact with you his gaze seemed to be directed just past your right ear.

“Don’t lie to me Regulus,” Your voice is clipped, when you’d come to check in on Regulus after he’d come home from winter break at his dreaded family’s house this wasn’t what you had expected.

Regardless, it was what you’re met with, “What the hell is that book?”

Your voice jumps and you can hear the panic rising in it. Regulus had spent the weeks up to his departure date dreading the time he would have to spend at the Black Mansion. You’d stayed up countless nights, wishing you could somehow keep him from having to go to that hellish house but when it came down to it there was nothing either of you could do.

Finding him pouring over some dark arts book the first time you saw him after nearly two weeks apart wasn’t exactly the reunion you’d been picturing in your head. Nor was it comforting.

You can barely make it out but you believe you hear him whimper something about “it’s nothing” as his gaze drops from just over your shoulder to his toes.

You two stand there for a minute, then two, each waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the tension currently hanging heavy over the room. Regulus silently begging you to let it go, to leave the room and give him some time to stash the book before coming to find you to act as though nothing had happened and it was all fine.

Unwilling to yield, you hold your ground, maintaining your silence while your eyes bore into the top of his head, awaiting his explanation as to what you’d walked into.

You’re the one to finally break the silence.

“If it's nothing, then I’d like to see it Regulus.” It's the second time in the span of five minutes you opt for his full name instead of one of the nicknames coined by his brother, who he’d recently mended things with, and made popular by yourself. You knew it would strike a cord for him but you were scared, you were on the offensive.

With a deep sigh Regulus retrieves his bag from the spot it’d fallen to on the floor, pulling the book from the bag, bound in emerald green, Regulus hold it both far from his body and with a surprisingly tight hold, somehow both wanting it as far from him as possible and not wanting it to leave his grasp.

Though visibly ancient the book appears to be in remarkable condition, engraved on the front cover in gold leaf reads “Mendel's Most Malicious Curses”.

Studying the cover you don’t recognize the book’s title but based on what you’d glimpsed inside of its pages you hadn’t expected to. Even as a fifth year you doubt this would ever be included in O.W.L. curriculum.

Despite knowing better you can’t help but feel a strange, strong attraction to the book, an overwhelming urge consuming you to take that book. Your fingers itch at your sides as you imagine getting your hands on the book, wondering how hard Regulus would fight before relinquishing it from his grasp.

Somewhere in your subconscious you register that these thoughts are not organically your own, that somehow that book is influencing you and that in reality you want nothing to do with it. Frightened thoughts simmer at the back of your mind but they are lost in the shadows of your curiosity regarding the secrets that lie beneath the ornate designs swirling over the cover.

Expectantly you extend your arm, a nonverbal signal for Regulus to hand you the book but your movement throws him into action and has him clutching it close to his chest, both arms cradling the text.

“No no no no no,” He chants frantically, shaking his head as though to shake off the thought of relinquishing the book to you. “I can’t give you this (Y/N),” He swallowed deeply, shining silver eyes seaking out yours, ablaze with conviction.

“And why’s that?” You challenge with a raise of your brow.

Inhaling deeply he seems to be bracing himself to respond, “Because you’re a muggle born, it’s not meant for you to touch.”

You can feel rage bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to spill out your mouth in a flurry of angry words admonishing Reg for his remarks, “What? Is my simple muggle born mind not worthy enough to read words in that precious little pureblood book of yours? Do I need my pedigree intact to understand what it says? Not meant for mutts, is that it?”

You thought you were past this, you thought you’d left the aloof little third year you’d first met who’d called you a mudblood and asked you to move to a different table in the library because he didn’t want you looking at his charms homework behind.

Had the past year and a half of apologies and growth on Regulus’ part all been a lie? Was that hate not as small a part of your boyfriend as you’d thought? Did it really only take just shy of two weeks back with his biggoted relatives for him to start spewing this pureblood nonsense again?

Bouncing around in your head those questions overwhelm you as you try to ignore the most pressing one, pushing at the forefront of your mind.

Does he even love you?

“B-because you’re not a pureblood, this book (Y/N), it can’t be held by anyone not of pureblood,” Reg’s shaking voice broke through the flurry of questions wreaking chaos in your mind.

“God damn it Regulus! I thought we were past this! I thought-”

“It’ll kill you (Y/N)!” His voice is frantic and you pick up on the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak over.

Those words that seemed to carry a fatality in themselves cleared away the din clouding your mind, everything went silent. Too silent even as the implication of those words wash over you.

That book may as well be a gun, cocked and being held steady at your temple as you feel tears of your own begin to well in your eyes, distorting your vision.

The mess of questions doesn’t return to your mind, instead they begin thumping one by one at the base of your brain though they all carry through the same theme.

How could he have brought that near you?

“Kill me?” You curse yourself for how obvious your voice is shaking but the book that just moments earlier you were dying to get your hand on seems to have cast an oppressive air over the room and has you recoiling away from your boyfriend.

Regulus nods, holding eye contact with you as he slips the book back into his bag, sliding it under the sofa before cautiously striding towards you.

“That's why I can’t give it to you to look at, it's cursed and if you so much as bump it you’ll…” His voice trails off, the words too terrible to speak aloud.

Your arms wrap around yourself, clutching as hard as they can as you fight to wrangle your thoughts under control. His response revealed to you that he doesn’t intend to hurt you, not with the book anyways which has dozens of other worries popping up in your head. You’re desperate for answers as to what happened to Regulus at his house. He seems ready to give them to you as he offers to take you back to his dorm away from any prying eyes or ears that may lurk about in the Slytherin common room.

You’d both agreed to arrive back at school two days early hoping to get some alone time in but that didn’t mean that the castle was empty and that anyone couldn’t walk into his common room at any moment.

You stall as he lets you into his dorm, you’ve been there a thousand times, often under the mask of night but your usual spot, atop his always made perfectly bed, seems wrong now. Without answers to your countless questions the entire room feels foregin to you and leaves you standing by his desk, not quite leaning against it but also not quite supporting your own weight.

Regulus seems equally awkward but eventually settles on his bed, perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, he barely looks comfortable.

You stay there so long in silence that after a while your breathing syncs, the singular sound becoming the only noise in the drafty room.

Long after it becomes clear Regulus isn’t going to speak first and you finally tire of the silence you find your voice, somewhere deep inside of you summoning the words to your most pressing worry; “What happened at your house Regulus? What did they do to you?”

Your words have him crumbling, your usually stoic boy folding in on himself until he is but a ball hanging off the bed.

You hesitate for a single second before you’re racing towards him, dropping before him at his knees to cup his face in your palms. Directing his visage upwards to meet yours you feel your heart wrench in your chest as you take in his puffy, red eyes, red nose and flushed cheeks already marred with twin trails of salty tears cascading down his face.

“Regulus,” You choke out feeling tears from earlier resurface as you push yourself off the ground to take your place next to the scared boy beside you.

Pulling him into your lap as much as his size permits you too you take great care in cradling his head, clutching him to your chest as your rock gently back and forth humming into his hairline in hopes to calm his sobs. Raw and ragged they each tear at the fragile, brave exterior you’ve erected in hopes of comforting the boy, giving him something solid to hold onto.

Whispering sweet nothings into his ear you feel him melt into your touch, slowly the breathing becomes stronger and his sobs quiet to weak sniffles swallowed by the occasional gulp.

Feeling him shift under your touch you can tell he’s working himself up to something, he always gets fidgety when he’s trying to summon the courage to do something hard, his movement triggers a memory.

It floods through your mind as you’re reminded of a similarly terrified Regulus, knees bumping against the table at breakfast one lazy Sunday as he repeatedly bounced them, seemingly unable to sit still. He’d spent weeks working himself up to speaking to his brother for the first time in far too long.

The memory of him being so strong and brave even as the entirety of the Great Hall tracked his movement from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor had you drawing a deep breath. The strength the memory provides you has you summoning the breath to prompt Regulus into some sort of explanation, anything.

“Reggie, your mother gave you that book didn’t she?”

He goes still at your words and even involuntary actions seem to still, his lungs draw no breath and his pulse seems to fade away under your touch.

“Bellatrix,” His voice is hoarse from crying, “Her idea of a Christmas gift.”

“That bitch,” You spit.

“Walburga’s was worse.”

You pause at the mention of her name, there is no doubt in your mind that he is the one who’s actions have sent Regulus into this downward spiral of despair and fear. You’re not even sure if you wanna hear what he has to stay but what you want stopped being important a long time ago.

“Do you wanna show me Reg?” You ask, breathless.

“No,” Comes his meak voice, “But I need to.”

You nod understandingly as you regrettably allow him to slip from your grasp so he can turn to face you, one leg tucked under his bum and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.

His eyes are downcast before he peaks them up through thick, dark lashes to meet your gaze, “Do you promise not to hate me (Y/N/N)? I don’t know if I can do this if you hate me.”

Your brows are drawn together as your response comes emphatically, “I could never hate you Regulus, I could never and I will never.”

“You can’t make that promise,” He says through a watery chuckle, leaving you wondering where the hilarity in the situation was. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Regulus,” You latched onto his hand before he could turn away from you, “I am incapable of hating you my love, please. Tell me what happened.”

Silver eyes locked with yours as though they would reveal the solidity of your promise. You’re not sure what answer he found in them but regardless he broke your gaze as he snuck his hand out of yours.

You watch as he slowly rolls up his sleeve and an idea as to what he’s going to show you begins to form and you find yourself regretting ever demanding to know what’s going on. You quickly shove those thoughts back down, there's no use in even entertaining them, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.

Your worst fears are confirmed as Regulus rolls the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal swirling black ink sunk deep into his skin. Even just by looking at it you could feel the permanence of the ink, the meaning behind it causing a chill to shoot through your bones.

In the back of your head this had always been a possibility but not one you’d ever truly considered. You always thought that you would be able to get yourself and Reg away from everyone, from everything. Blood purity, the ministry, his family.

You were going to get out and you’d thought you’d have plenty of time, half way through his fifth year neither of you ever expected him to be forced to take the Dark Mark before his eighteenth birthday.

You were supposed to have until his eighteenth birthday.

Staring at the ink that seemed to pulse with life against the pale white of Regulus’ skin you suppose that it doesn’t really matter what you were supposed to have, what was supposed to happen. Regulus has taken the dark mark.

Godric, Regulus has taken the dark mark.

“Y-Your mother did this to you?” Your voice wobbles, anger, confusion, and terror evident in your voice, each betraying the strong front you’re trying to keep up for Regulus.

“She came for me in the middle of the night, (Y/N/N). First time I’ve ever been woken by her instead of Sirius or a house elf and she forced me up, made me get dressed before taking me downstairs and they were all there,” His voice cracks as a silent sob racks his body, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to relive the horrific events of that night. Hoping to provide him with any sort of comfort you inch closer to him, throwing your arm around his shoulder allowing him to rest his head on yours before continuing.

“They were all there (Y/N), not just her and Father. Bellatrix, Cissa and her husband, the Lestranges,” He pauses to swallow, “ And him. He was there.”

Regulus needn’t clarify who “he” was. The idea that he had even been near Regulus made you sick to your stomach and you could feel the distinct sensation of bile rising tickle at the back of your throat.

“Shhh, it's okay Reg,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as sobs shake his body, “It’s going to be okay Red we’re going to figure this out.”

“He did this to me,” He sobs as he shakes in your lap, letting the enormity of his circumstances finally sink in after suppressing it for the past week, the fear of your response keeping him occupied.

To say you aren’t scared would be a lie, you’re fucking terrified but holding Regulus’ trembling form you know that this decision was not his. He would never swear allegiance to a group hell bent on destroying you and people like you, a few years ago maybe but not today. Not the Regulus you’d come to love, even if it began despite yourself.

Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your hand around the skin now stained by dark magic.

Regulus let’s out a hiss at your touch and you feel him tense under your hand, afraid you’ve hurt him you start to pull away, “Does that hurt Reg?” You ask warily.

“Yes,” He spits out through gritted teeth, “But don’t let go please,” He pleads, raising his gaze to meet yours, “Please don’t let go.”

“Not gonna let go,” You promise, keeping your hold on his forearm tight.

Dipping your fingers under the strong bone of his mandible you turn his visage upwards to meet yours, heart breaking at the sadness and pain swimming in those beautiful grey eyes of his. Slowly you lean in before your eyelashes are brushing against the soft skin of his cheeks and your eyes flutter closed as you watch his do the same.

Your lips brush each other’s gently as your hand cups the side of his face, giving you complete control of the kiss as you keep the swipes of your lips light, you can just barely make out the taste of the pomegranate lip balm you’d given him as a part of your holiday gift to him.

“I didn’t wanna take it (Y/N/N),” He sniffles against your lips, “I don’t wanna be a Death Eater, I don’t wanna hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice has more tears welling in your eyes, you just can’t bear to see your beautiful boy in so much pain.

“Oh I know you don’t bubba I know,” You calm him, throwing a leg over to the other side of his lap so that you can perch yourself atop the hard smooth surface of his thighs. Gently pressing kisses along the canvas of his face you feel his arms wrap around your waist and the tips of fingers graze against your ass as his hands hover above it.

“Can I touch you please?” His words are barely audible but his desperation is loud and clear.

You grant permission as you lean forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. Posing little, if any, challenge before letting your tongue delve into his mouth, quickly claiming dominance over his as you feel his palms clutch the globes of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he holds onto you as tight as possible.

With care you slowly guide him onto his back as your lips trail from his down the column of his throat, in your journey down you leave sloppy hickeys along the delicate skin of his neck. Pulling away slightly you smile to see the various shades of purple and blue painted along his pretty ivory skin.

You know you’re going to have a real conversation about this later, what it means, what the two of you are ready to do about it but right now all you can think about is how you can make your pretty boy feel better, how you can show him that your love for him hasn’t changed. And there’s one way you know how to do that best.

“Do you want me to make you feel good Reggie?” You whisper against his skin as your lips ghost over his collar bone, drinking in his scent.

“Please,” He whimpers, “Need you.”

That’s all you need to hear before your hands are delving under the hem of Reg’s sweater, hands sliding against the smooth planes of his abs, your hands gliding over the occasional ridge of a long healed scar.

Sliding the hem up all the way to his collarbone you look down to see the beautiful lines of his chest and stomach. The scars you’ve become used to seeing a dark but faded pink now shine an almost brilliant purple as though the dark magic imprinted upon his arm had somehow interfered with scars caused by Walburga, most of them when he was much younger. You know for a fact that there are more ones on his back, deeper and darker from taking longer to heal.

“Come on pretty boy,” You coach, propping him up so that you can slip the soft sweater over his head before discarding it over your shoulder, “There we go, that’s a good boy.”

He lets out a low whine at your praising words as his hips thrust up towards yours which are perched directly atop them.

While removing your own sweater you smile, realizing it’s actually one of Regulus’ old Quidditch jumpers from the year prior. With no bra beneath your top your tits are left bare for Regulus’ viewing. His eyes gloss over as lust creeps into the stormy grey of his irises, they’re locked on your tits as though they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

“Do these hurt more than normal baby?” You ask as your fingertips graze over the raised scars on his chest, if the dark magic of the dark mark made his scars more sensitive you wanna be careful not to hurt him.

“A little.”

Frowning you lean down to press your lips against the puckered scars, your kisses light and fleeting as you trace the dark lines with your lips.

Dancing from one scar to another you hear him exhale deeply and the tension seems to be slowly leaving his body as he settles into the mattress and he becomes malleable under your touch.

“You’re so beautiful Reg,” You praise against his scarred skin, needing him to understand just how much you love him.

“I love you so much,” You look up through your lashes to see Regulus’ eyes already locked on your body.

“I love you too.”

With that your lips are ceasing his once more as you feel the overwhelming need to comfort your boy. Gently, you grind your hips up against his as you become lost in the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours before you feel a familiar bulge pressing on you.

Your hand ventures back down the hard muscle of his stomach before you bump against the bulge of his erection, straining against the soft material of his sweatpants. You palm gently over his cock as your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, giving him sweet, light kisses while teasing his throbbing member.

“Please,” Comes his choked pleas at being teased, “Please, need more.”

“Of course pretty boy,” You promise as you lift yourself off of him, giving him one last kiss at the waistband of his sweatpants before helping him ease off his bottoms and boxers.

Once he’s devoid of all clothing you too strip down so that you’re both bare naked, your eyes are fixed on the red, weeping head of his half hard cock, sitting against the inside of his muscled thigh.

He whimpers as your hand wraps around his member, pumping up and down his hardening length, brushing your thumb along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Wanna be inside of you,” He whimpers, hands grappling for your wrist to stall your movements and pull you on top of him but all he succeeds in doing is making you stubble closer to him.

You release your right hand from his cock, instead taking his hand in yours while your unoccupied hands resumes stimulating his member.

“I know you wanna be inside of me, pretty boy, but I gotta get you hard first.”

“But I am hard,” He argues in a pretty little whine, and now that he mentions it you realize that he is harder than he was when you’d pulled him from the tight confines of his pants.

“Your cock’s so gorgeous,” You murmur watching the way he twitches in your hand, “Think you’re hard enough now, yeah?”

He nods his head, squirming as he fights the urge to buck up into your hand.

Making sure that he’s comfortable, propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed you brush away the hair that’s fallen into his face as you straddle his lap, the shaft of his cock pressing against the warmth of your cunt.

Lifting yourself a few inches off his thighs your help guide his prick to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him you allow yourself to take your time accepting each and every inch of him inside of you.

Reg’s eyes are glued to your pussy as he watches himself disappear inside of you, all the way down to his base. His eye brows furrow from the overwhelming pleasure that swims through his veins, sinking deep into his every nerve at the bliss of being completely surrounded by your warm pussy.

Pleasure shoots up your spine at the sensation of slowly becoming full, once you’ve finally taken every inch of him inside you you throw your head back, mouth dropped open as the breath is stolen from your lungs. It feels so good to be so full with him you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Good boy,” You say breathlessly, rubbing your arms up and down his flexing arms, fists furled with the sheets between them as he too adapts to the sensation that comes with being inside of you.

“You ready for me to move?” You ask once you finally become used to the full feeling.

Desperate nods answered your question, it takes you a minute to find your rhythm but soon you’re grinding his hips against his, lifting yourself slightly off his cock before grinding back down onto him.

Your movements are slower than usual when you fuck Reg, but after the terror he’d gone through in the past weeks you’re deliberate in your gentle movements.

As your hands grip the muscles of his arms you hear him take a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, landing on his face, your movements stalling before you realize that you’re clutching the newly marked skin on his left forearm.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” You apologize, loosening your grip on him as your lips frace the dark lines of the ink against his skin.

Seeing that mark on anyone else would’ve made you recoil, have ice shooting through your veins as fear petrified you. While you would’ve preferred never to see that symbol of hate tattooed into Regulus’ skin it didn’t evoke its usual reaction from you. The only fear you have is fear of the future, fear of what lies in wait for the two of you beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is comforting your boy, all you think about as you press your lips to his mark.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear sobs break through Regulus’ lips, quickly you abandon the stain of ink , moving to cradle his head so that your tits are right in his line of vision.

“I thought you were going to hate me,” He cries into your chest, tears wet the soft skin of your tits.

“No baby, I’ll never hate you, not ever.”

You feel the wet warmth of his mouth brush against your right nipple, gazing down you see his tongue lazily circling the pebbled flesh and you’re reminded just how cold the room actually is but pressed up against Regulus it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“You wanna suck on my titty Reggie?”

He responds with a weak nod and quickly you’re easing your nipple into his mouth, helping him find the correct angle all the while stuttering your hips against his.

“You fill me up so good Reg,” Your praise, fingers tangling in the dark mess of curls.

At your praise he begins lifting his hips in times with your thrusts, helping you as you fuck youself on top of him, wanting so desperately to make you feel as good as you make him.

“There we go, that’s a god boy.”

“M’getting close,” His words are muffled by the soft flesh of your tit stuffed into his mouth.

You too are nearing your orgasm as your clit brushes against the hard bone of his pelvis pulling a sharp whimper from you. To better grant Regulus access to your breast you’ve settled on rolling your hips in circles, ceasing the up and down movement from earlier so as to not disturb him.

A familiar tightness is brewing in your belly as Regulus’ hands run up and down your back before gripping the globes of your butt, maintaining as much physical contact as possible.

“Go ahead bubba, go ahead and cum. Fill me up pretty boy, want your cum. Need your cum. Godric I love you,” You ramble, seizing his lips again, needing them against yours as you feel him cum inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters as your cunt grips around him with the tell tale signs of your quickly approaching orgasm.

“Y’gonna cum with me baby?” You ask as you press your lips to his forehead, his mouth having once more found the plush of your breast.

“Yes,” He nods, “Please.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of pleasure racing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm, continuing to move your hips as you simultaneously help Reg through his. Stars flash behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure building up finally releases, sending you into euphoria so intense it seems to cloud your every sense.

The second he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock it tipped him over the edge and as he lost himself in pleasure, rope after rope of cum releasing inside of you, he tried his best to match the movement of his hips to yours.

You flutter your eyes open as the warmth of his cum floods your pussy as you come down from the height of your orgasm, letting yourself collapse so that your chest is pressed up against his.

With your chests pressed so close together you notice the exact moment that your breathing syncs, feeling as Regulus’ arms wrap around your bare torso keeping you close to his body.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur against the ivory skin of his chest, keeping your voice hushed.

“Better. A little happy.”

Glancing up you catch the smallest smirk slink across his lips as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling.

“Happy?”

“You make me happy,” His eyes flicker to yours as he pulls you closer to him causing his softening prick to slip out of your tight hole. You both hiss as the cool air hits his cock and the cum he’d emptied into you begins flowing out yout pussy.

Regrettably you push yourself off of him, pulling his sweater over your head before waddling into the connecting bathroom, being ever so conscious about the sticky white mess between your legs as you wet a washcloth using warm water from the sink before applying it to the insides of your thighs. Ginger touches hastily cleaning up the excess cum before rinsing the wash cloth to take it to Reg.

“Hey pretty boy,” You coo upon reentering the room to find him in the same position you’d left him in, “You ready for me to clean you up?”

“You look so beautiful in my clothes (Y/N/N),” He responds instead of answering your question, pushing himself onto his elbows so that he can watch you, his black sweater enveloping you all the way to your lower thighs.

“And you’re just beautiful,” You smile, sitting next to him on the mattress. You aren’t lying, he looks absolutely gorgeous leaning back, mop of dark hair in tangled tresses, grey eyes glossed over, abs sheening with sweat as are his equally toned thighs. Merlin bless the poor bastard who invented Quidditch.

Dragging up his muscled legs your eyes settle on his softening member, just as pretty as the rest of him.

With care you make quick work of cleaning the cum off his cock, resting your hand on his thigh when he tries to squirm away from your over stimulating touch.

“I know baby, I know but I gotta get you all nice and clean for me.”

“Hurts,” He mumbles in a pathetic pout.

“I know it does pretty baby but look,” You say, pulling the cloth from his skin, “All done already.” Pressing a kiss to his temple you go to stand but you’re quickly pulled back down to the mattress by cold hands wrapped around the warm folds of your waist.

“Don’t go,” He mumbles into your hair as he keeps you tucked into his side.

“Just gotta go put the washcloth back Reggie,” You explain trying to slip from his hold but he’s not having it and just tugs you back against the hard planes of his chest.

“No,” He says simply before reaching over to the bed side table where he’d set his wand, mumbling a quick banishing spell the rag flew from your hand before flying into the bathroom.

Resting your head against his strong shoulder you yank a blanket from the end of the bed up to throw it around your bodies, nestled close together.

“You said you were happy Reg.”

“Mhm,” He responds with a noncommittal hum.

“What else are you feeling, love?”

You hear him take a deep inhale, as his own answer seemed to overwhelm him, “I don’t know. I’m scared, I’m really scared but not so much now that I know that you don’t hate me.”

You nod against his chest, you can only imagine how petrifying that thought must’ve been for him and you can’t deny the tug you feel in your chest at the idea of Regulus ever thinking you would hate him.

“I’m still terrified but I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know you’re gonna be okay Regulus, you are capable and strong and smart and the bravest boy I have ever met,” You can feel the blush radiating off of him at your words.

“Thank you (Y/N/N),” He mumbles bashfully into your hair once more.

You were telling the truth, if there was one thing that you know for certain its that Regulus is just as resilient as he has proven to be and if Walburga, or anyone else for that matter thought he was going to take this lying down. If they thought you were going to take this lying down, they have another thing coming. There is no doubt in your mind that Regulus will fight for what he knows to be true and if there was ever a point that he would have obeyed his mother’s every command without question that time was long past.

Reg isn’t to be underestimated. He’s just as every bit courageous as he’s proved to be over and over again. To underestimate him is to dig your own grave; and unlike Walburga you aren’t ready to count him out quite yet. On the contrary actually, your boy wasn’t about to take this lying down and even if it meant total self destruction, the two of you are about to raise hell.

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

The Needs of Pain (part 2)

A/n since y’all liked part one!!

... i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol

This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest

Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)

Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly.

Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context--that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.

I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow.

He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way.

No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.

Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted.

I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.

The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever.

“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.”

His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.”

The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?”

He can never know. “Obviously.”

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.”

The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way?

“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.”

The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.”

I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this.

I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.”

“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”

Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just--I wanted to get some air.”

“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?”

The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.”

Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”

A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation.

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way.

He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat.

“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.”

My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.”

“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride...but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.”

Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone--the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.

Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?”

I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.”

He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again.

My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier.

“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.

Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear--testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.

I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me.

“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve.

He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”

I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?”

“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?”

I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you--an accident.”

“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?”

I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.”

Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm.

“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning.

I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?”

He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively.

To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?”

He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent.

“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.”

If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all---core. His staring lacks any shame.

Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one.

“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.”

Understanding? “What is there to understand?”

His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable.

“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”

I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted--now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain--I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea.

“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.”

He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected.

My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.”

I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.”

The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?”

His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?”

“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words.

Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist--a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another--but it’s good to know you would have told me.”

My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier--touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure.

“Are you--” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”

At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn't be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?”

I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly.

“What kind of punishment?”

Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”

Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t--he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”

The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?”

I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.”

His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”

He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?”

Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.”

My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.

He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip.

“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.”

He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it.

“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you--so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall--I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down.

I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What--”

Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.”

His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin.

The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical.

I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn.

Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.”

He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion.

“Kirigan.”

His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”

Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his.

I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity.

As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.

His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off.

It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am.

If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.”

Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.”

His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.

I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.

When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines.

He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips.

Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?”

It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want.

“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential.

Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.”

I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly.

The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat.

The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more.

He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible.

“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.”

A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.

He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.”

I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it. My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars--and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out.

My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.

“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.”

His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking.

“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t--”

“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.”

Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together.

We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs.

When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?”

Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back.

Tags: @luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy

@i-padfootblack-things

@all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @benbarnes-supremacy

@we-love-our-bandz @fire-in-her-veinz @weirdowithnobeardo @bvudzsoo @kaque @ponyboys-sunsets @coldlilheart @granillx @dreamohlittledreamofme @sanna2020 @zaynzierulez

@ive-died-everday-waiting-for-you @xxaerynxx @ralesera @tea-effect

@tranquillitymoon

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader smut #grishaverse #grisha #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x you #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling smut #the darkling x you #the darkling imagine

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celestialsaturn · 4 years

Text

🌃The Descendant:🌃

The Astrology of attraction pt.1:

What aspects and placements should we look at in order to find our soulmate?

Our journey begins ironically, at the end.

The descendant:

Your descendant symbolises what you innately desire when it comes to romantic relationships, what provides balance. If you’re curious as to see what you or your crush’s type might be, this is the post for you 😃😋

Note: The descendant symbolises what you need rather than what you might think you want. It’s about bridging the gap. Keep this in mind.

Aries descendant/Libra ascendant:

🐛You watch as the scales tip precariously, hurriedly throwing away the few remaining pieces of yourself that you’ve been saving in your pocket, in efforts to maintain your version of equilibrium, it’s only upon looking down from the oppressive structure of your own design do you realise that they’ve been there all along, catching all of the parts you deemed unworthy like precious snowflakes. The scales are balanced now and somehow they’re in your favour.

🦋You might get caught up in the taxing motions of trying to please everyone around you, constantly putting everyone else’s needs and opinions above your own. Therefore, You might be attracted to those who are loud and outspoken, who easily stand up for those they love and what they are passionate about. They have no problem rocking the boat and setting clear boundaries.

🐛There is something about the fire burning behind their eyes that draws you in. Their rebellious streak, crooked smirk and carefree attitude is awe worthy.

🦋To conclude: you might be attracted to Feisty, bold and active go-getters who inspire you to stop putting your value in the hands of others, and start living for yourself.

Taurus Descendant Scorpio Ascendant:

🕷Being an iconic, independent femme-fatale is a tiring job, it’s hard having everyone fall to your feet,, doesn’t make walking any easier to say the least. But as you push aside the amorphous mass of admirers , you realise that though you’ve built a wall around you, you want someone that’s willing to break it down brick by brick to see the real you.

🕸You are highly receptive and intuitive and this is what causes you to be quite guarded, as you know most don’t have the best intentions. Therefore, you are attracted to the trustworthy, reliable and kind.

🕷Soft teddy bears who are your anchor when you start drowning in a sea of assumptions and jumped-to conclusions. They bring you back to shore carrying you upon their dependable shoulders as dependable people do, and revive you with a fresh breath of reality.

🕸Just overall, you want a genuine person with the kindest eyes who you can call in the middle of the night when it all gets too much, so they can lull you back to sleep with soothing reassurance and solid advice.

Gemini Descendant Sagittarius Ascendant:

🐁As you flit your eyes over the crowd, you begin to realise you’re searching for something, something deeper than hollow small talk and stale jokes on a strangers couch, at a party you have no business being at. You stare intently into the sea of friends and acquaintances but none of the faces register, nothing holds meaning here, you want more.

🐀You need someone to answer the millions of questions that you mull over at night, and even if they can’t they’ll still take the dive with you exploring the depths of the universe, whilst holding your hand 🤢.

🐁You need someone who is open minded, someone who is willing to believe in just about anything because,,, well, why not??? Who are we to pretend that we have all the answers? Someone who gets your weird and some might even say,,,untimely jokes but they get it, that’s how we deal with life around here— with laughter.

🐀In conclusion: you just want an intelligent free spirited soul with your love for travel and learning. Who doesn’t try to tie you down, who would rather embark on all of your journeys with you, and proves that love can truly be expansive and engulfing at the same time.

Cancer Descendant Capricorn Ascendant:

🌑You gaze out the ceiling to floor windows of one of the hundred skyscrapers in the city, so strikingly dull it hurts. You’re working late again, you can hear the monotonous murmur of your coworkers futile attempts to bring you back to speed about the riveting second quarter budget, but your eyes have once again locked upon the moon it always seems to call out to you and who are you to dare look away.

🌕You need someone willing to sand down your edges with their gentle and nurturing spirit. Someone that recognises all that you do to be a reliable and hard working individual, but simultaneously makes you realise you’re so much more than that. You’re so much more than the well polished awards on your mantle, you’re so much more than you let yourself believe.

🌑Someone that forces you to stop and smell the roses, someone that creates an environment in which you feel so safe that vulnerability actually seems possible. And when you do finally open up, surprise surprise,,, they don’t sneer in disgust and tell you to cut the pity party. They allow you to feel, they show you that being in touch with your emotions and even acting upon them doesn’t make you weak, rather it strengthens your heart.

🌕In conclusion: you desire a soft and empathetic individual, that gives you a whole new perspective on life, and teaches you that you don’t have to go out of your way to earn their love, they will forever accept you as you are. Their love flows through you unconditionally, you are at ease now.

Leo Descendant Aquarius Ascendant:

🌱You’re afraid, you’re scared that they won’t understand, that your impassioned speeches will fall upon the ears of the ignorant, you worry that you’ll lose yourself to the herd mentality. You sense that you’re the only one on this planet with some sense of individuality and genuine compassion. Yet for the first time in your life Aquarius, you’ve been proven wrong. You watch as they make slow but sure steps up to the podium, their eyes are warm and set a glow with passion, their arms outstretched to the crowd drawing them in, and as they speak you begin to realise, you’re not alone.

🌻What else can you say? You’re a sucker for the dramatics. You admire their bold and brazen confidence. The way charm just seems to drip off of them, with every hair flick and radiant smile flashed you’re only human after all, even though you hate to admit it you can’t help but to fall for them.

🌱People that recognise the genius in you, people who see the method to your madness, people who take the time to listen to you string together your plans for the future and encourage you to put all of your innovative ideas to action. People who never give up on you. People who have faith.

🌻You are in awe of how they are so unapologetically themselves. You see yourself in their eyes. Two unique individuals both equipped with a strong sense of self, ready to take on the world as the ultimate power couple.

Virgo Descendant Pisces Ascendant:

🚣🏽‍♀️ As night falls the waves get angrier, crashing against the little rowboat, you don’t know how you managed to get here. Your mind procures a crack of lightening and clap of thunder just to add to the ambiance. It’s worse knowing that you can’t even seek solace in daydreams. You’ve been out at sea for quite some time, watching the days go by, but this night it’s different, you see a beam of light cut through the suffocating fog, they’ve come to guide you home.

🌊 You admire their neatly filed papers and freshly sharpened pencils. You like how it contrasts your paint stained hands and brushes strewn across the floor. You like that they always have a plan, you like that they’ve put so much thought into the details you forgot even existed. You find their nagging endearing, it anchors you from floating off into reverie as you like to do. They show you that the real world isn’t that bad after all.

🚣🏽‍♀️ When it all seems hopeless, and there’s nothing left to do but simply wallow in despair, they arrive with tissues and solutions. They listen attentively to all that you have to say. They make sense of the jumbled thoughts in your head carefully laying them out in order as they spill out of your mouth. They understand.

🌊Someone that provides structure and stability without trying to dilute your personality. Someone who would much rather dive in and get to know you for you.

Libra Descendant Aries Ascendant:

👹You drag your sword along the smooth marble of the palace floor trying your best to ignore the images of the battlefield you created,- standing tall amongst the defeated as the lone Victor. You look up to see them waiting for you as the always do, bandages in hand. As they nurse your wounds they observe you stifle a pained wince, and they remind you gently that the war is over now, you can let your guard down. The sword drops to the floor with an echoing clang, you are safe.

👼 You May have a one track mind and whilst that is admirable in a way, it can be stifling for others as you may fail to take into consideration the fact that humans are social creatures dependent on one another for survival. You need someone that gives you a new perspective on life, showing you the value in diplomacy and taking the time to understand all angles of a situation before making an absolute conclusion.

👹You’re attracted to kind, social individuals who charm you with their soft smiles and knowing eyes. The embodiment of grace and poise. They shock you with the way they elegantly waltz through confrontation and debates, remaining objective and calm. You learn from them.

👼 You will attract people who focus on the value of partnership, who strive to seek harmony and balance in every aspect of their lives. They adjust your lens on life to focus on more than just the bubble of defense you have created for yourself. You might be attracted to the whole “beauty with brains” type.

Scorpio Descendant Taurus Ascendant:

🌹You stand unwavering, rooted in the foundation you carefully handcrafted like a solid oak tree with gleaming branches and leaves of gold that grows steadfast through the years. A raven perches upon you whispering the secrets of the universe in a foreign tongue that reverberates through your soul, you begin to feel as though time has lost all meaning, and the seasons pass by in a blur, you emerge transformed. Burgeoning into an evolved sense of self.

🥀You are attracted to people with an alluring aura who you can tell have a red hot intensity simmering underneath their cool exterior.

🌹You are enamoured by the concept of a love that completely immerses you. They are a heady concoction of an individual that embodies loyalty and devotion, who takes the time to prod beneath your surface and understand the essence of your being.

🥀Note: You might attract individuals who seem broken, you might even have broken bird syndrome, eager to “fix” your partner. This can be very taxing, so maintain clear boundaries, and understand that you can’t change everyone.

Sagittarius Descendant Gemini Ascendant:

🥚 You are so aware of your surroundings, it sometimes feels as though you’re on the outside looking in staring through the window at the ongoing house party eyes glazed over, your mind is off journeying through the foreign lands you’ve only ever read about. However your body is very much present going through the motions of social niceties for a brief moment you lock eyes with them, you recognise the look on their face, it mirrors yours.

🐓You’re attracted to deep and philosophical individuals with restless spirits. You both share a love for knowledge, however they amaze you with their passionate stances. They are so attached to all that they learn, as though the process of encoding, storage and retrieval of information, takes place in the heart. It’s foreign to you but that’s why you like it.

🥚You have so much love to give even if you don’t know it, you attract partners who let you tap into that Jupiter-Esque energy. What is life, if not to give wholeheartedly.

🐓 They bring out the wanderer in you, they tell you to turn your thoughts into actions, allowing you to transform that mercurial energy you’ve pent up all this while.

Capricorn Descendant Cancer Ascendant:

🍇You feel like the tides, ensnared by the power of the moon, shifting from one partner to the other, dancing was never your thing. Yet that all seemed to change as you are spun into their arms. Their arms hold you firmly, guiding you through the steps, you flow together seamlessly and you can’t help but to gaze in amazement at the quiet confidence that seeps out from between their self assured movements. You are home.

🍷 You are attracted to ambitious individuals. You are drawn to their stoic faces and freshly pressed button up shirts. The way they hold themselves with utmost composure, the allure of the way you can never tell what’s going on inside their head.

🍇 Someone you can look to as your rock, even as your moods shift tumultuously throughout the day, they remain steadfast at your side.

🍷 You want someone to start a family with. Someone who can build a home with you that’s worth never leaving. Laid up together amongst the memories you’ve created, at peace.

Aquarius Descendant Leo Ascendant:

🕺You are the Sun. A life force. People gather in awe to watch the daily occurrence of you set and rise. Adoration comes naturally but, so does fear. People avoid your direct gaze, shading themselves when you seem to come off too strong. Only knowing how to admire from a distance. But Aquarius is different, their stare bores into you, analysing your every move, you’ve never felt more vulnerable. You’ve never felt more connected. You like it.

💃You are attracted to i n t e l l e c t u a l s 🥴. They appear indifferent upon the surface, a stark contrast to your animated disposition. But their passion runs as deep as yours. They have a unique perspective on life, and are fuelled by the genuine desire to give back to their community. You can’t help but be in awe of their creativity and innovative ideas .

🕺Speaking of genuineness, this is something that is so important to you. You are hyper aware of the fact that most people do things to be perceived a certain a way. Is it because you do the same thing, Leo? Because of this, you see right through the facades that people put up, and are in search of something something real. It’s not enough for someone to just seem kind, they have to have the innate desire to help others, regardless of the prospect of acknowledgement.

💃In closing, your type could be someone who is intelligent, passionate and understanding. Someone who is open minded and tolerant. They might appear emotionally indifferent, but you understand that. Y’all are just two lions, leaders of the pride, looking down from your shared fortress at the masses. Aloof, and in love lmaooo.

Pisces Descendant Virgo Ascendant:

🌧You watch enchanted, as their brush embraces the canvas, with every stroke ;) they slowly but surely create an escape for the both of you, your own universe where the shackles of reality have lost their hold. They take your hand and together you step into the watercolor paradise, a stark contrast from the harsh angles and hostile frigidity of this plane of existence. A love only found in daydreams.

🌈You are attracted to dreamy artistic types. People who are in tune with their emotions and who allow themselves to express their inner artist in every day circumstances.

🌧You have gotten so accustomed to living in the present trying to overcome obstacles and achieve your goals, you might not stop to realise you’re tired. Pisces soothes the tension you’ve been holding for so long. They understand how you feel without you even having to say a word. Despite the fact that they might look like they’re off in their own dream world, when they love they form a connection so strong that it’s as if they can read your mind.

🌈You strive for perfection, and they show you the beauty that lies underneath the covers of an unmade bed, or between the hours of a day spent doing absolutely nothing. They wish that you could see yourself through their eyes, reminding you everyday, that you’re nothing short of perfect.

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tpwkjerii · 3 years

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oh, zombie!

you’re certain you’ve met the end when you’re cornered by flesh-hungry zombies, but a man with a bat and the bone structure of a god proves you otherwise.

pairing: jungkook x reader

warnings: cursing, shooting guns, weapons, mentions of death, minor angst, fluff, blood, zombies (duh), attempted murder, kinda heated makeout session, namjoon is an accidental cockblock, kissing

genre: zombie apocalypse au, thrill/gore (not too descriptive or graphic), strangers to lovers

word count: 9.8k+

a/n: the zombies in this fic have enhanced smell for corpses and human stress hormones!! and help i have like two other jk drafts rn (& disclaimer: i don’t own the gif above!!)

Fucked.

That was the best word to describe you and your current predicament. Now, with the loud groans of at least four zombies and heavy bangs against the door ringing in your ears, you were really starting to regret entering this grocery store.

You knew you should have trusted your gut when you first approached the store, but the thought of having actual food (not the dry ramen packets you were currently surviving on) and more water (you were on your last bottle) tempted you to push open the glass door and rush into the supermarket without so much as a noise scan. It took only eight seconds for the zombies and their enhanced smell to know that you entered. You were barely able to grab a single bottle of water before you heard an eerily low groan and immediately rushed for shelter in the dairy freezer.

Your twenty seconds of recklessness led you to where you are now, pushed against a cold door while zombies banged heavily against it. You held onto the inner lock as you reached down for your gun, which you were certain only had a few more bullets; regardless, it was your best shot at escaping this store alive. Gathering yourself, you inhaled and exhaled deeply with hope that you could shoot them all fast enough.

Just as you were about to release the lock and face your fate, the groans fell silent and were replaced by the sound of heavy and almost cartoon-like thwacks. Your feet froze as you realized that that was no sound or action a zombie could make — there was another human outside. You had only a few seconds to decide your next move, which would ultimately decide your future and whether you die in the middle of a grocery store dairy storage freezer or not.

Whoever killed the zombies outside could either be a kind-hearted person who didn’t want to see you succumb to a tragic fate or a person who wanted to save you from death by zombies only to kill you for your survival supplies. Considering the fact that they just knocked at least four zombies on their own, you prayed that it wasn’t the latter.

A few silent seconds passed until you eventually moved your hand, and you prayed that this wouldn’t be your second fatal mistake of the day as you slowly unlocked and opened the heavy steel door. Your gun visible in your other hand, you stepped out to see who your potential savior (or murderer) was.

Your eyes landed on the face of an extremely handsome man. Despite the obvious disarray he was in (then again, everyone who manages to survive during a zombie apocalypse is at least some form of messed up), it was clear as day that he was attractive. He had alluring doe-shaped eyes that were deceivingly innocent-looking, long dark hair that fell messily over his forehead, and the facial structure of an absolute god. The cut on his lip, small scratches scattered across his face, and his silver earrings only added to his intimidating impression, and upon seeing the heavy metal bat he held in his right hand, you instinctively tighten your grip on your handgun.

You were so enraptured by his captivating appearance that you nearly forgot the situation you were in.

“Who - who are you?” you finally asked, attempting to keep your voice as level as possible and praying that your face wasn’t red since he definitely noticed you checking him out.

He didn’t look intimidated at all, and a part of you died internally when his lip curled into a smirk. This was not looking good for you. “Are you gonna put that gun down?” he asked, the depth and warmth of his voice throwing you off. He laughed as you only blinked and he continued, “You certainly didn’t have a problem with me when you were checking me out earlier, so why keep the gun up now, babygirl?”

If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely were now. You cursed under your breath as you moved your hand down and quickly placed your gun back in your thigh holster, deciding that he was safe and probably wouldn’t kill you. “I wasn’t checking you out,” you muttered, and he laughed at your obvious lie.

“Whatever makes you feel better, babygirl,” he said, a teasing tone in his airy voice.

Your brows knitted together in irritation at the pet name. “Don’t call me that,” you mumbled, looking down at your worn sneakers awkwardly.

He laughed again, and you found yourself oddly enchanted to his tiny laugh. He took a step towards you, causing you to look up at him as he told you, “I won’t call you ‘babygirl’ if you tell me what your name is.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly before you answered, “My name’s Y/N, what’s yours?”

He grinned, which somehow turned his entire demeanor upside down. With his wide smile, he was no longer the intimidating guy that took down three zombies on his own with just a bat, but rather a nice guy that just wanted to help out a fellow human from being killed by zombies.

“Jungkook,” he answered simply as he began to walk away from you and through the store aisles.

“Jungkook,” you repeated, familiarizing the way his name rolled off your tongue with a nod. “So, Jungkook, what brought you into this store?” you asked, rushing to walk alongside him and skim through the aisles.

“This your first time outside, Y/N?” he asked, abruptly stopping to turn and look at you. You froze and dropped the bag of chips you were holding at the sudden eye contact. He sighed and moved to pick up the chips and place it back onto the shelves. “I was wandering around the area, and I saw that you walked right into a trap,” he told you.

“A trap?” you asked, your mouth falling open in surprise.

He nodded and motioned for you to help him fill his rucksack with water bottles. “Looters will leave trace scents or pieces of human remains to attract zombies to popular places survivors will drift to. Once any survivors enter and get killed by the zombies, the looters will come back, off the zombies, and take their supplies,” he explained with a grimace.

Your face twisted, and you suddenly felt even luckier that Jungkook saved you. “How do you know? I mean, how did you know that the looters were here?” you asked, still a bit unsettled at the fact that you basically walked straight-first into a death trap.

Jungkook zipped up his backpack, now full of at least 20 water bottles, and headed towards the dried foods. “I spotted one of their vans when I was walking around, so I figured they were in the area. Then I saw you entering the store and bingo — I was right,” he told you nonchalantly as he stuffed various dried fruits and snacks into his pockets.

“Take some of these,” he added, gesturing towards the few remaining dark chocolate bars.

You nodded, briefly admiring his casual attitude as you shoved two handfuls of the chocolate into your jacket pockets. “How did you recognize them? Have you had any… run-ins with them?” you wondered curiously, picking up your pace to match his quicker steps as he made his way down the remaining store aisles.

“They approached me to join them when this whole thing started,” he started, pausing to laugh softly at the shocked expression on your face. He shook his head as he continued, “I said no because what they do is twisted. Luring people to their deaths for some sick form of fun. They say they do it for the supplies but we all know that’s a lie.”

You nodded your head thoughtfully. “Oh, well, I guess that’s an admirable and sane choice.”

He murmured in agreement, and you walked alongside him, unconsciously humming a song that had been stuck in your head for a while. Being with Jungkook, who was both stronger and more knowledgeable than you, provided you with a sense of comfort. Additionally, he wasn’t shooing you off and willingly accepted your company (for the past 10 minutes, at least). Before you even knew it, you two reached the front store doors.

He walked out first, holding the door open behind him. You faltered, a second thought of “does he really want me to go with him?” running through your head.

He raised a brow, opening the door a bit wider. “You coming?”

“Wh- what?” you stuttered in disbelief.

“Do you want to come with me or not?” he asked. “C’mon, babygirl. We don’t have all day. Those looters are bound to come back soon.”

At the mention of those evil people, your legs moved instantly. You rushed out of the door towards Jungkook’s side and eagerly turned to face him. “Where to?”

He laughed, and you swore it was one of the most enchanting tones you’ve ever heard, before saying, “What’s the place you’re staying in like?”

You thought back to your small home and the painful disarray it was in. It was a miracle that you were able to survive so long considering how ill-prepared you were for an apocalypse to happen.

“Er, probably not as good as yours,” you answered sheepishly.

“Fair enough.” He nodded at the anticipated answer and began to walk in the opposite direction that you came from. You continued alongside him, internally screaming at how lucky you were. Not only did Jungkook completely save your life, he let you stay with him! You didn’t understand why, seeing as you were arguably an impediment to his survival, but you were grateful regardless.

The city around you was lifeless. What was once home to millions of citizens and the hustle and bustle of daily routines was reduced to empty stone buildings, the only people left either roaming as the undead or too afraid to come out. Within two weeks, the city and all its people changed entirely.

As you walked alongside Jungkook, you wondered what type of life he led before the apocalypse. Was he a student like you? Did he have a job? Was he a police officer or firefighter? Did he have family?

Several questions imposed themselves in your brain, and it was enough to almost distract you from Jungkook’s words.

“That van over there is a looter van,” he informed you, pointing towards a parked black van that had unrecognizable red symbols sprayed on it. “Each one has different symbols on it, but they’re all in red so they know where each one is and don’t mess up a potential job.”

You nodded and absorbed his words. You definitely passed a van like that when you were walking towards the store. “That’s good to know,” you whispered, your voice strained with mild fear.

He didn’t say anything else in response and continued forward, gently tugging you along with him when you lingered in your spot a second too long as you stared at the van.

Jungkook led you for a few more minutes, each second only increasing your curiosity as to where he was taking you and what he was really like. Silence prevailed until you heard a low groan and the distinguishable sound of a foot dragging along gravel. You stiffened and unconsciously moved to grip Jungkook’s hand.

He stopped in his tracks and gently pushed you towards a building wall. Once both your backs were pressed flat against the stone wall, he adjusted the grip on his bat and you reached for the gun in your thigh holster. The zombie’s groans grew louder as it approached. You knew they couldn’t see and had a very limited sense of hearing, but you wondered if you or Jungkook had anything on you that attracted its hunger for rotting flesh or stress.

You held your breath as the zombie came into view, its decaying body and unsettling groans disturbing you. It walked closer, although not directly towards you. You raised your gun the same time as Jungkook lifted his bat, but you didn’t have to pull the trigger and Jungkook didn’t have to swing as the zombie only walked straight past you two, leaving only its rotting scent behind.

You breathed out in relief and relaxed your shoulders as you placed your handgun back in its holster. “Thank god,” you whispered.

“Let’s go,” was all Jungkook said before he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. It seemed like you weren’t the only one anxious to get out of the open.

Jungkook’s home was much, much better than yours (if you could even call your tiny studio that).

“Holy shit,” you whispered as you admired the fortified mansion. High stone walls and a metal gate surrounded the large two-story house. “You have this place all to yourself?” you asked Jungkook. Now you were really curious what his profession before this was.

He shook his head as he unlocked the gate with a key. “A few friends live with me,” he answered simply before slipping the key back in his jean pocket. “They should all be awake by now.”

You nodded and followed closely behind him as he walked up the short pathway to the front door. As he opened the door, you heard a loud yell come from within.

“Kookie!” he yelled, his voice smooth and deep.

You saw Jungkook’s face turn red as he quickly shut the door with a slightly mortified facial expression.

“Uh -”

The door burst open. “Kookie!” a man shouted before enveloping Jungkook into a tight hug. You stepped to the side, observing the affectionate interaction with a grin. The man who barreled into Jungkook had black, fluffy hair that was held back by a black hairband. He was on the thinner side, but still built, and appeared to be a bit taller and tanner than Jungkook. When he released the hug and turned to face you, your breath hitched.

He was attractive.

“Who’d you bring home?” he asked Jungkook, a boxy smile directed towards you.

“Her name is Y/N, I caught her just before some zombies got her,” Jungkook answered as he nudged you and the man inside.

As you stepped through the front door, you observed the large home’s tasteful interior. A pristine white kitchen was to the right of you, apparently well-stocked based on the two open cabinets that were filled with snacks and ramen. To the left of you was an open living room with one large couch and two smaller ones surrounding a paper-filled coffee table and a large TV mounted onto the wall.

Impressive, you thought.

The fluffy-haired man stepped in front of you, his contagious smile still going strong. “I’m Taehyung. It’s nice to meet you!”

You smiled at him. It’d been a while since you met new people, much less people with such warm and friendly dispositions. “It’s nice to meet you too,” you returned honestly.

Jungkook cleared his throat, announcing suddenly, “I’ll show Y/N around.”

You turned to face him, noticing that he had taken off his bags and leather jacket. His bare arms were now exposed, and you immediately noticed how sculpted he was. A sleeve of various tattoos decorated one of his arms, drawing your attention to the ink on his defined muscles. His other arm was more bare, but still had a few figures on it. Realizing that you were probably staring for too long, you tore your eyes away with a nod before you set down your own bag and followed Jungkook.

He took you past the living room and kitchen through a hallway, showing you where the first floor bathroom, in-home gym, and office were. You gaped at the book-filled office that also housed several weapons. Lined across the wall were several guns, knives, and other weapons you couldn’t even name. After you recovered from what you saw in the office, he led you up the stairs.

“This is Taehyung and Jimin’s room,” he said, pointing to the first door in the hallway. “Jin and Yoongi’s.” He pointed to the door next to the first one. “Namjoon’s.” He then pointed towards the first door on the opposite side of the hall. “And mine.” He pointed to the door next to Namjoon’s.

You nodded, resisting the urge to ask about their family members since you knew it could be a sensitive subject for them. “Are they all home?” you wondered. “Well, except for Taehyung, I guess,” you added as an afterthought.

Jungkook nodded. “Jin, Yoongi, and Jimin are probably in their rooms. Namjoon will be out for the next few days getting some stuff, so you can stay in his room for now.”

Your lips parted in shock. “No, no! That’s his room. It’s fine, I can sleep on the couches if anything!”

“It’s fine, he won’t mind,” Jungkook insisted.

But you shook your head in persistence. “Really, I’m completely fine with the couch. I wouldn’t want to make Namjoon feel uncomfortable or anything.”

He sighed and shrugged, seemingly relenting to your wishes. “Alright, we can head back down then,” he said as he turned back to the stairs.

Before you followed him, your eyes landed on the last door all the way down the hallway. You had no idea what was behind it, yet it still emitted an ominous and mysterious aura that called out to you. “Wait,” you said before you even thought about it. Just as he turned to face you, the realization that he probably didn’t tell you what was in that room for a reason (whatever that was) hit you.

“Er - nevermind!” You laughed awkwardly, hoping he would drop it. But it was too late — he already noticed your lingering gaze on the locked door.

“Don’t go in that room,” he stated bluntly before turning around, not giving you a chance to respond. “There’s nothing in there that’s of importance to you,” he added as he walked down the stairs. You rushed to follow him after him, still intimidated to be in this big house with completely new people, muttering words of agreement.

Everyone in this house was shockingly nice. Jimin was undeniably kind and spent your entire first night at your side, making sure you felt comfortable in this new place. Yoongi, although more reserved, didn’t hesitate to check if you were alright whenever you spaced out or got scared by a sudden noise. Lastly, Jin was incredibly attentive; from asking you if you had any food allergies or if you preferred baths or showers, he did his best to welcome you.

(They were all also really attractive, but that's besides the point).

Before you knew it, a week passed. Seven days of playing board games with Jimin and Taehyung, cooking with Jin, talking about conspiracy theories with Yoongi, and working out (and trying to avoid) with Jungkook.

Why were you trying to avoid him? Well, despite having met Jungkook first, you couldn’t help but start to feel awkward around him. Not because he made you feel uncomfortable or the reverse, but rather due to your undeniable attraction to him. It certainly didn’t help that his personality complemented his beautiful appearance well. On the outside, Jungkook appeared cold and intimidating, but on the inside he was soft and kind. He was exactly like one of the many fictional characters you’d fallen in love with before.

Your first official day at the house, you kept your cool pretty well. Of course, Jungkook and his endearing behavior and large, doe eyes had to ruin it. Then again, it was also on you for not listening to your initial instinct of avoiding the gym machines. What exactly happened?

Well, after three failed attempts of using the machine from hell (you didn’t even know it’s name), Jungkook finally decided that it was just getting sad and moved from his machine to help you.

“You’re supposed to use your arms to bring it back,” he said with a teasing tone as he neared you. You jumped in your seat and looked up at the mirror to see his figure stopping directly behind you. Your breath hitched as he leaned down and… oh fuck, did his arms just brush up against yours?

Face burning red, you looked away with a violent cough. “Er, I knew that.”

He laughed softly at your embarrassed expression, the enchanting sound of his lap wreaking havoc on your already weak heart. You turned towards him and gently pushed his chest with a scoff.

“You don’t have to laugh at me,” you grumbled.

“Sometimes I can’t help it,” he countered with a smug smile.

You particularly liked when he smiled since he reminded you of a bunny whenever he did — especially when he had a large smile and his eyes formed happy, crescent moons with twinkling stars. Jungkook’s grin (and laugh) was as infectious as Taehyung’s and Jin’s, and he was, overall, a perfect person in your eyes. Even as he made fun of you (jokingly, of course), you swore he was sent from the stars above.

Deciding it best to not catch feelings for your savior and person who graciously housed you, you tried to keep your distance from him since then. Whenever he entered the room, you tried your best to subtly leave (bless Seokjin for being exceptionally understanding of your “cramps”) and when he tried talking only to you or directing the conversation to you, you roped someone else into the discussion. It worked for the most part as you talked to the others more and ignored the way Jungkook made your heart race whenever you thought about him, but today you were out of luck.

“Y/N and Jungkook, supplies run today.”

You gaped at Jin from your spot on the couch. “What? Me? Are you sure?” you asked, silently pleading with your eyes.

He rolled his eyes and nodded, bending down to gently pat your head. “Yes, you. Don’t worry, you’ll have Kookie with you.”

“And this,” Yoongi added as he dropped a gun much larger than your small handgun in your lap.

You looked up at him in shock. “I don’t know how to use this!”

He shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you’ll need to use it.”

“C’mon, Y/N. You’re gonna have to pull your weight if you wanna stay with us,” Taehyung told you, winking at you when Jungkook entered the living room with his gear. Your eyes widened at him, but you couldn’t say anything as Jungkook approached you.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You sighed and stood up begrudgingly. With an excessively-large gun in hand and empty backpack strapped to you, you exited the house with Jungkook at your side. Together, you silently walked down the same path he took you up almost a week ago.

You embraced the peacefulness of this secluded area. Jungkook’s home was quite secluded, and the surrounding trees were home to blissful breezes and a variety of chirping animals. Despite the downfall of humanity, it seemed that wildlife was flourishing, you noted.

“So I guess I’ll ask now,” Jungkook started, capturing your attention. You turned and looked up at him, anxiously waiting for him to continue. “Were you staying with anyone before? I assume not since you’re with us now…”

You shook your head. Your voice lowered as you answered, “I was all by myself.” He frowned while you continued. “My parents were on a trip abroad with my best friend Hobi when it happened.” Your eyes teared up as you mentioned your family and Hobi, who was basically your older brother.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“It’s ok,” you mumbled. “The last call I got from my parents before all the cell towers went down, Hobi was doing alright with them. I’m thankful that they have him.”

“I’m sure that Hobi is doing a good job taking care of himself and your parents,” he responded soothingly.

You nodded, blinking your tears away as you diverted your gaze towards your moving feet. “So what about you?” you asked after a few silent moments. “Do you have any family?”

He cleared his throat and tightened his grip on his backpack. “My parents didn’t make it,” he answered bluntly.

Your head whipped towards him. “I’m so sorry,” you said rushedly. “I don’t know why I even asked you, I overste-”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, gently turning your head to face the road path ahead of you two. “I was the one who asked first, anyways.”

You looked down again in shame. “Sorry again,” you murmured.

Jungkook smiled down at you before a small laugh escaped his lips. Your heart picked up it’s pace when he laced his hand with yours and pulled you forward. “Come on, the supplies won’t get themselves.”

You felt an odd sense of deja vu as you ran out of the grocery store, Jungkook following behind you and a horde of hungry zombies behind the both of you.

But let’s back up a few moments to ten minutes prior to this predicament.

You and Jungkook finally reached the grocery store that Jin had been scoping out via hidden camera for the past week. Your eyes were delighted by the sight of shelves lined with a variety of foods and freezers that still had cold air circulating behind the glass doors.

“This is one of the few places that run on solar power, so the electricity still functions in here,” Jungkook explained when he noticed your confusion at how he was able to turn off the lights and the gust of cold air that greeted him as he opened one of the freezer doors to grab an ice cream bar.

“I’m surprised no one’s hit this place up yet,” you said as you took out the list of supplies that Jin gave you before you left.

“Jin’s been watching this place for a while. He thinks no one’s come here because it’s kinda far away.”

You nodded in agreement, thinking back to the long walk you and Jungkook took to get here. You supposed not many people wanted to risk being out in the open for so long and didn’t find the commute worth it.

“Is Jin watching us right now?” you asked Jungkook curiously.

During your short few days at their house, you quickly learned each person’s role. Yoongi, who used to be an engineer, builds all the cameras and weapons. Jin, a former director and computer whiz, monitors the cameras that he and Taehyung set up around the city. Taehyung, a film and dance student, helps Jin set up the cameras in obscure places and trains with Jungkook and Jimin. Jimin, a skilled dancer, often accompanies Jungkook and Taehyung during training and supplies runs. Unfortunately, Jimin sprained his ankle recently and Taehyung injured his arm during training, leaving the supplies-run to Jungkook.

The only person you had yet to meet was Namjoon. According to the others, Namjoon was a former pre-med student and scientist who was on a trip to find something. Of course, they didn’t tell you what that something was. And while you were curious, you also didn’t want to overstep your boundaries and risk being kicked out.

“Probably, he usually watches camped out places to monitor and che-”

You and Jungkook both turned your head at the recognizable low rumble of a car. He was quick to grab your hand and pull you down onto the ground, out of view from the front glass windows. You held your breath at the sound of a car door opening and then the ringing bell as the front door was pulled open a few seconds later.

Jungkook reached towards his large gun, but he halted when he recognized the distinguishable stench that the random person carried in. Your eyes widened when Jungkook began panicking, his fingers fumbling for his walkie talkie.

You heard a heavy thud and the sound of the ringing bell again as the mysterious person exited the store. You waited until the rumbling of the car grew distant before you looked up and cursed loudly.

“Fuck! He dumped a dead body here!” you cried, stomach churning at the sight of the pale corpse.

Jungkook groaned from beside you and rushed towards the front of the store, poking his head out of the door and looking both ways. “Fucking looters!” he cursed as he moved his head back and hit the window.

Steering clear of the dead body, you walked towards Jungkook and craned your head to see what he was looking at. The sight of several zombies, more stumbling out of random buildings and streets to join the crowd, heading straight for the store. “Shit! What are we gonna do! They’re already down the block!”

Jungkook ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Fuck, ok, did you get everything?”

You quickly scanned through the paper list and peered into your open backpack. “Most, but I forgot to get some things,” you answered quickly as you mentally checked off each item you saw.

“Which ones?” Jungkook asked, already zipping up his backpack.

A blush spread across your chest and neck, and you wished that you didn’t have to answer. But judging by Jungkook’s stressed face as the zombies’ groans grew louder, you knew you were in no position to stall. “Er. Feminine hygiene stuff,” you blurted.

Jungkook paled before blushing immediately after. His body movements stuttered momentarily before he nodded and headed towards the back of the store. “Shit, ok. Start running!”

You stared at him in bewilderment. “What? I’m not leaving you behind!”

“Just go!” he shouted.

You felt the alarm in your body grow as your head darted between Jungkook’s frantically moving body and the group of zombies just down the street. Knowing that even Jungkook didn’t stand a chance against all those zombies, you ended up on a decision that you really hoped would end up working out.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you looked down at your large gun and adjusted your grip. In one swift move, you kicked open the door and began shooting the zombies, which were now coming from both directions across the street. Your aim wasn’t the best, but it was good enough to pierce bullets through a good amount of them straight in the neck or chest.

“Jungkook! Hurry up!” you cried as you held down the trigger, praying that Yoongi packed enough bullets in the gun.

Small piles of rotting bodies began forming as deceased zombies collapsed to the ground and the other ones climbed over them to get to you. But the few zombies you managed to kill were easily outweighed by all the live ones still clamoring towards you. A cry of frustration left you as you realized that the noise from the gun and the obscene amount of stress radiating from you and Jungkook were just attracting more zombies in the area.

Jungkook ran up towards you, several boxes of various tampons and pads in hand. “I didn’t know which one you wanted! Let’s go!”

In a normal situation, you would have thanked him for his thoughtfulness, but this wasn’t a normal situation by any means.

You and Jungkook ran out of the store towards the house, both turning back occasionally to shoot any zombie that was getting too close. Your breaths grew uneven from exhaustion, but the sheer amount of adrenaline pumping within you kept you and your weak legs going.

“Don’t get too tired! I’ll shoot, just keep running!” Jungkook instructed you when he noticed you clutching your side in pain.

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine!” you responded. But you spoke too soon as you tripped over a rock not even a minute later. “Shit!” you cursed as you landed on your hands and knees before immediately standing back up and catching up to Jungkook, who had stopped a few feet ahead of you when he noticed that you fell.

He didn’t say anything as he gently turned your hands over and examined them. Cuts, with blood flowing freely from them and tiny rocks stuck in between the open skin, covered the palm of your hand and your fingers. Jungkook’s eyebrows creased in concern as he moved his eyes down your body to your knees, which now had deep, bleeding gashes in them from the rocks that cut through your jeans and broke your skin.

“Jungkook, it’s fine. We have to go.” You moved your hands to your side and pulled him to continue running, cringing at how your blood stained the bottom of his black denim jacket and his hands. He cursed, obviously wanting to say something, but continued alongside you.

Thanks to the unexpected delay, the zombies had gained on you by a good few meters. You winced as you turned around and pressed the trigger of your gun, the spray of bullets taking a few of them down. But your tiny sense of relief didn’t last long as you soon heard an empty click and noticed that nothing was leaving the end of your gun — you were out of bullets.

You cursed and turned forwards again. “How many rounds do you have left?” you asked Jungkook, panting heavily as you continued running next to him.

“Not that many,” he answered, concern evident on his face.

You looked back at the relenting zombies, hot on your tail, and cursed. How were you going to get yourselves out of this one?

The answer to your question was presented to you in the form of a poorly-driven SUV that was heading down the road and straight towards you and Jungkook.

“Thank god!” Jungkook cried as he pulled you to the side and out of the vehicle’s path.

“Thank god?” you repeated in confusion.

The black SUV halted to a stop in front of you and Jungkook, the doors opening automatically.

“Get in!” you heard a new voice shout.

You and Jungkook didn’t waste a second to climb into the car, which quickly sped away once Jungkook slammed the door shut behind him. Neither of you had the chance to breathe as the zombies, which seemed to have grown even faster, jumped for the back of the car.

“How did they get even faster?” Jungkook cried as he pulled your shaking body towards him.

“The fast ones might be mutations, I found more reports on them the other day,” the silver-haired man in the front with glasses answered. You assumed that this was Namjoon, considering his answer and that Jungkook didn’t mention anyone else.

“Mutations?” you cried, jumping when a hand smacked your backseat window. “These fuckers are mutating?”

Namjoon didn’t get a chance to answer as he harshly turned the steering wheel, sending the car swerving and you and Jungkook barrelling to the other side of the car.

“Namjoon you’re so shit at driving!” Jungkook exclaimed as he rubbed the side of his head that clashed with the glass window.

Namjoon scoffed. “Don’t talk to your hyung like that when I just saved your life! And who told you not to put on seat belts?!”

“Yeah, let me just put on a seatbelt while there’s zombies cha-”

You gasped suddenly and pulled yourself up towards the front. Head directly next to Namjoon’s, you reached your bloody hands up towards the steering wheel. “There’s a bunny!” you shouted as you swerved the car out of the way, sending Jungkook to the other side of the car and wincing as your waist collided with the firm side of the passenger seat.

“Y/N, what the fuck!” you heard Jungkook moan.

“We were gonna kill the bunny!” you protested in your defense as you rubbed your side and sat back down next to Jungkook.

“We have other things to worry about!” he yelled.

“God! I’m sorry, you’re right,” you groaned as you leaned back down into the back seat.

“They’re slowing down!” Namjoon suddenly announced, his eyes focused on his windshield mirror. “Look, they’re retreating!”

You and Jungkook both turned around towards the back window. Just as Namjoon said, the zombies stopped chasing you, instead shuffling in place or back the other direction. With the threat of zombies gone, you let out a breath of relief and closed your eyes.

You kept your eyes shut as Jungkook grabbed your hands and gently ran his fingers across the open wounds, his touch sending electricity through your body. Despite the rush from his soft touch, exhaustion still tugged at you and weighed down your eyelids.

With the comforting feeling of Jungkook’s hand wrapped around yours, you drifted into unconsciousness.

Your nap was unfortunately short lived. It took only a few moments to arrive back home, and upon exiting the car, the three of you were immediately greeted by everyone else in the home.

“Y/N!!” Jimin greeted as he walked slowly over to you. Jin closely followed the blond to make sure that he didn’t hurt his ankle.

“Jimin!” you said with an equal amount of excitement, throwing your hands up into a welcoming gesture.

Jimin and Jin gasped as you revealed your bloodied and cut up hands.

“You’re hurt!” Jin sputtered as he rushed towards you. “Your knees too!”

“It’s fine, it only stings a little,” you admitted sheepishly. It wasn’t a complete lie — you didn’t exactly have the time to think about your injuries while running for your life.

Jin shook his head. “Come inside, I’ll treat the cuts a-”

“It’s fine, I can do it,” Jungkook said, suddenly appearing at your side.

The older man raised his eyebrows. “You sure, Kookie? Don’t you want to rest?”

Jungkook shook his head and silently pulled you into the house, leaving you to shrug in confusion at the guys behind you. You followed Jungkook through the first floor, up the stairs, and into his room.

His bedroom was similar to what you expected. The walls were painted a dark grey color and there wasn’t much in the room other than the basic furniture and a few pictures and art frames. You sat down on the plain black sheets as Jungkook walked to his dresser and pulled out a first aid kit.

“Why didn’t you just let Jin treat my cuts?” you asked Jungkook quietly, noticing faint signs of exhaustion in his slow movements.

He hesitated to respond. His hands stilled on the top of the red kit as he slowly responded, “I thought this was the only way I’d be able to speak with you… alone.”

“Why?” you asked, praying that you weren’t blushing as assumptions instantly formed in your mind.

He cleared his throat and opened the kit, instantly reaching for several bandaids, disinfectant pads, and antibacterial wound ointment. “Well,” he started as he gently grabbed your hands and turned them so your palms were facing up. He opened the pack of disinfectant pads and swiped them across your hands and knees. “I wanted to ask you why you’ve been avoiding me the past few days.”

Your heart dropped. You didn’t realize that Jungkook noticed how you tried your best to steer clear of him; but it wasn’t like you could really tell him that it was because you were starting to have feelings for him,

“Was it something I said? I did?” he asked as he spread the cold ointment on the open wounds.

“No,” you answered quickly — a little too quickly judging by the way his head darted up to meet your eyes. You blushed under his stare and continued, “You didn’t do anything to offend me, Jungkook.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, almost pleading.

You groaned inwardly and wished you could cover your face with your hands, but Jungkook held them firmly in his as he bandaged them. A few seconds of dragged-on silence passed before you looked down at your lap and responded vaguely. “I didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

His hands stopped and his brows furrowed in confusion. “Why would things be awkward between us?”

Blood rushed to your face as you looked up to make painful eye contact with him. “Do you really want to know?” you whined, already anticipating Jungkook’s answer since you’d become quite familiar with his stubbornness over the past few days.

“Yes,” he started. “Please tell me,” he said, feigning an expression of a wounded puppy.

You cursed under your breath and brought your freshly bandaged hands (you ignored that one of the bandages was only half on, courtesy of Jungkook’s prior confusion) up to your face.

“Do you promise not to make fun of me? Or kick me out?”

He laughed, although the soft sound didn’t match the nervousness in his expression. “Yes, I promise.”

His words prompted you to breathe in deeply, mentally preparing yourself for your confession. You can do this, you said to yourself. If you could shoot and run from at least thirty zombies, then you could definitely tell Jungkook you had feelings for him. Right?

It wasn’t like you could keep on avoiding him forever, anyways. With the rate that the apocalypse was going and based off the past few days, it looked like you were going to be at this house a while. You just hoped that your reveal wouldn’t make your stay awkward for either him or you.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Y/N?”

You hummed, still stuck in your thoughts before finally responding. “I… I may or may not be incredibly attracted to you and have feelings for you,” you admitted reluctantly. Jungkook’s lips parted in shock, but he didn’t get a chance to respond before you continued in a panic. “You already promised you wouldn’t make fun of me or kick me out! No take backs!”

He laughed, and you cringed as you were sure it was a laugh of rejection and that the dulcet notes would be a new cause of your nightmares. But the words he said after proved the opposite.

“That’s a relief.” You looked up, a bewildered look on your face. “I like you too,” he mumbled bashfully, his long hair falling in front of his face as he looked down at his lap.

Your body froze. “D-Did I hear that right? Have I not gone crazy?”

He looked back up at you with a grin. “Crazy for me,” he joked with a wink.

Unimpressed, your face dropped. “I take it all back, I’ll go pack my-”

Jungkook shook his head with a chuckle. “Kidding, kidding,” he said, enveloping his slender hands around yours. “But I was completely serious about liking you back.”

“Really?” you asked, still in slight disbelief that Jungkook, who could literally have his portrait and biography in a hall of all Earthly legends, had feelings for you.

“Yes, really.”

You opened your mouth, ready to shoot a doubtful reply, but Jungkook cut you off with the lift of his hand. He rested his hand back down around yours before continuing, “I know you’re probably going to say something self-deprecating or a joke or ask me if i’m joking again, so you might as well let me speak first.”

He grinned at the way your face heated, priding himself on how well he knew you already.

“The way you wish each of us goodnight every night, the way you wake up early to help Jin prepare breakfast, the way you cuss whenever you’re nervous, the way you always try to keep up with whatever stuff we’re doing - even when it’s stupid - and keep a smile on your face; everything about you made me fall for you. Even before the apocalypse, I never felt this way for anyone else.” He took a deep breath, gently squeezing your hands. “The night I first brought you here, it felt like seeing you enter that store and meeting you was fate. You make questionable decisions, we both saw that today, but I’m glad that one of them brought us together because I honestly don’t think I can ever meet anyone else like you.”

A wide smile spread across your face and tears pricked your eyes. Never in your many years of life had anyone told you such genuine, heartfelt words. And no one noticed (or appreciated) those small things about you - your habits that were always brushed over - like Jungkook did.

You agreed with his claim of you making questionable (stupid) decisions, but in this moment you were thankful for your sometimes-dangerous spontaneity and rash decision making. Because if it weren’t for that sudden moment of desperation where you ran into the grocery store, you never would have met Jungkook. Your heart wouldn’t be racing like it was right now and your hands wouldn’t be warm from the feeling of his wrapped around them.

“What do you say?” he asked weakly, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“What is there to say?” you countered before you released your hands from his and interlocked your fingers around his lower body. The position was a bit awkward, but you didn’t mind. Less than a few seconds later, your lips were pressed against his.

Jungkook moved his hands from the small of your back to your neck up to your hair. He pulled you in closer to him as he deepened the kiss. You gasped and tightened your grip around him as he effortlessly lifted you up so you were sitting on his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist. He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip and gently bit it, drawing a moan from you.

You shifted in his lap, pulling a deep groan from him as he pulled away from your lips to trail kisses down your jaw and neck. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt him suck on your collarbone and upper chest to leave marks for him to see the next day. Just as Jungkook slipped his cool hands under your shirt, a startling voice rang from the other side of the door.

“Jungkook!”

The long-haired boy beneath you groaned in annoyance but continued to kiss you. “Just ignore him, he’ll go away,” Jungkook mumbled against your lips as he dragged his hands against the skin of your stomach.

You nodded, embracing the fiery feeling of his kisses and his hands against your bare skin.

“Jungkook!” the voice cried again, causing Jungkook to curse and groan again. “It’s urgent!”

“This better be good,” Jungkook grumbled as he reluctantly pulled away from you.

You frowned at the loss of his touch, but you didn’t have much time to mourn it as he instantly straightened his back once Namjoon said, “It’s about Project B.”

Your brows raised at Jungkook’s sudden reaction to whatever this “Project B” was. He turned to you with an apologetic look before gently setting you onto the bed and moving towards the door.

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly as he straightened his shirt. “I’ll talk to you tonight, I promise.” With that, he was out the door, leaving you in his room with only your thoughts (and hands and knees that had yet to be fully bandaged).

It had been nearly 8 hours since Jungkook had promised that he would speak to you at night. By now, the moon was high in the sky, it’s radiant glow doing nothing to calm your nerves. You knew that whatever Jungkook and Namjoon had to discuss was urgent, but how could he just leave you like that? You were barely able to process the best kiss of your life by the time you realized that you were still sitting stupidly on his bed after he left the room.

You sighed and moved from the window seat in the living room to the kitchen. Joining Jin at the counter, you plopped your head against the stone material with a groan.

“Jungkook and Joon are still in their little lab?” he guessed, nonchalantly flipping his book to the next page.

You nodded pitifully, now knowing that the mysterious room was a lab of some sorts.

“Here,” Jin said before standing suddenly, prompting you to look up at him. He grabbed a bowl of washed fruits from beside the sink and gestured for you to take it. “Bring it up to them.”

“But Jungkook said I ca-”

“I don’t care what he said. Tell him that they shouldn’t have skipped dinner,” Jin instructed firmly.

You nodded, a bit intimidated by Jin’s sudden sternness, and quickly took the bowl with you up the stairs. You slowly approached the door at the end of the hall, the ceramic bowl filled with strawberries and peeled clementines wobbling in your shaky hands. As you took each step, you imagined Jungkook bursting through the door and expressing his disappointment in you for even thinking about entering the room.

Luckily, that didn’t come and you reached the door in less than a minute.

Clearing your throat, you knocked against the door with your elbow. “Jungkook?” you called.

No response.

“Jungkook? Namjoon?” you called again, only to be met with what sounded like a low groan.

Your breath hitched in your throat. That noise didn’t sound pleasant at all.

You placed a weary hand on the door knob but quickly pulled it away as if it was burning hot. Debating thoughts battled in your hand: Jungkook clearly told you not to go in the room but what if Jungkook or Namjoon was in trouble? Wouldn’t leaving despite knowing that one of them could be hurt make you a terrible person (or girlfriend—you didn’t really know what you and Jungkook were yet)?

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed the silver doorknob and twisted it open. You stepped into the dimly lit room slowly, gasping at the sight before you.

“Lab” was definitely the right word to describe the room that almost mirrored your high school chemistry class. Seven tables sat in the room, four of which were filled with stacks of papers and folders while the other three had various lab equipment tools atop the black tabletops. It didn’t just end at the tables either.

“What is all this?” you mumbled to yourself as you examined the crowded walls. There was barely an inch of blank wall left as papers, newspaper clippings, photos (some rather disturbing), and notes decorated the wall like a second wallpaper.

You slowly walked through the room, examining the items pinned to the walls. Most of it was related to the zombie apocalypse, with newspapers (from when those were still around) detailing the first outbreaks and theories of the cause and papers filled with concepts you barely remembered from chemistry, physiology, and biology. Accompanying the scientific notes and articles were several pictures, some of zombies and others of medical abnormalities that you couldn’t quite explain.

One picture caught your eye, and you barely managed to place the fruit bowl down on a table with just enough space for it before you rushed over to the photo. The aged photo had three people, presumably a family, in it. A mother and father stood proudly behind their son, their hands on his shoulders as he beamed at the camera with his hands on his lap. The boy looked familiar. His round eyes and bunny-like smile eerily reminded you of -

“What are you doing?”

The unexpected voice sent a shiver down your body, and you jumped as you turned around to face him.

Jungkook.

You mentally hit yourself — you were so distracted by the items of the room that you failed to notice Jungkook waking up at his spot with Namjoon, slouched over and faces pressed onto one of the paper-filled tables.

“Um,” you started, unable to find the right words as you stared at his unreadable facial expression. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, disappointed, sad, scared, or possibly even all four.

He let out a frustrated groan and ran his tattooed hand through his long hair. “Just tell me what you saw,” he instructed firmly.

“N-not much!” you stuttered, your eyes wide. “I — Jin fruit! Yes! I just came here to bring you Jin — I mean fruit! I came to bring you fruit! Like Jin told me to!” Heat spread across your face as you attempted to explain yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed between you and the ceramic fruit bowl you pointed to, and he would’ve laughed at your clear disarray if he didn’t feel so anxious.

“You were looking at the walls, you must have seen something,” he deduced.

Your body stuttered as you gestured towards the photo you were looking at. “Nope! Just some things about zombies and… and this picture of you — fun stuff!”

He sighed and you cringed as he placed his hands on your shoulders. But he didn’t scold you or tell you how disappointed he was like you expected; instead, he let his head fall and mumbled something that you weren’t sure if it was meant towards you or himself.

“I guess it’s time I told you the truth.”

Your brows furrowed at his words. The truth? Judging by the contents of the room, they were studying the zombies; and it wasn’t all that surprising considering that Namjoon was technically a scientist and almost-doctor. Why was Jungkook so afraid to tell you?

He lifted his head up, and your heart clenched at the look of pure vulnerability on his face. “Will you promise me that you won’t judge me or run away?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Of course.”

“My parents were scientists who worked for the national lab. I didn’t really know what happened at their work or what projects they were doing because I was in university doing my own stuff,” he paused and briefly closed his eyes to take in a deep breath, “but one day I went home and they told me about an idea they had that was so great.

Super humans, they said. Humans with enhanced senses that would make them superior to regular humans and form the perfect army. I told them it was a shitty idea and that this was stuff they shouldn’t mess with, but they got upset and kicked me out.” He laughed bitterly. “This wasn’t the first time my parents and I ever disagreed on anything, and I thought they were smart enough to not go through with it so I just left. But I guess I was wrong because one day something at the lab went wrong.”

Jungkook hesitated for a second upon seeing the disturbed expression on your face — you knew exactly where this was heading.

He willed himself to continue. “A few months later I got a call from the hospital. They told me that my parents were severely injured while at work, and when I went to see them, they told me the truth of what happened: how they went through with the project but realized too late that it was a mistake, how they were trapped by the government, and how they created monsters.

My parents died from their injuries two days later, and a week after that there was a covered-up breakout at the lab they worked in. Only one day after the breakout, there was the first outbreak in the city only a few miles away. And now we’re here, trying to find a cure for the mess my parents started.”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately said, a mournful expression on your face. You couldn’t imagine the guilt and sorrow that Jungkook must feel.

He scoffed. “Sorry? Why are you apologizing? This entire thing is my fault,” he muttered.

Your face fell and you moved to grasp his hands. “Jungkook, I don’t see how any of this is your fault,” you spoke honestly, your voice soft.

His eyes widened and he pulled his hands away from you. “Y/N, my parents are the reason this apocalypse happened! And - and they told me about their idea and I didn’t do anything to stop it!”

“You did what you could,” you stressed. “You told them it was a bad idea and they made their own adult decision to go through with it.” You took a step closer to him and looked at him in the eyes. “You can’t blame yourself for your parents’ actions.”

He shook his head and looked away. “I should’ve fought harder,” he countered stubbornly. “I’m a terrible person.”

“Jeon Jungkook, look at me.” You used your finger to turn his head so his gaze was directed towards you again. “You are not a terrible person. If you were, you wouldn’t have saved me that day at the grocery store or risked your life to get me pads or spending your days working to find a cure that isn’t even your responsibility.” You took another step towards him and slowly wrapped your arms around him. “You’re a good person, Jungkook. I’m saying this from the bottom of my heart,” you murmured with your head against his chest.

He was silent for a few moments until his body relaxed into your hold. “Thank you,” he mumbled as he gripped your waist and upper back and rested his head atop of yours. “Do you still feel… the same for me?” he questioned cautiously.

“No,” you answered quickly, causing him to quickly pull away from you in offense. You giggled at his reaction before continuing, “I like you even more now. You were honest with me and now I feel closer to you.”

His face relaxed as he let out a relieved sigh before bringing you back into his arms again. And for a few moments, the two of you simply basked in each others’ embrace.

Jungkook was the first to break the silence. “We’re not very close to finding the solution, you know,” he mentioned with a disappointed tone.

You shrugged. “It’s ok. This isn’t something you can really rush, but I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

He pulled his head back to look down at you, a gentle expression painted on his face. “Promise?”

You smiled at him. “I promise,” you whispered before you moved to close the distance between your lips and kiss him once again.

The future was unsure for you and Jungkook and tomorrow or the next week wasn’t guaranteed. But you were sure that if there was anyone you wanted to survive and overcome a zombie apocalypse with, it was Jungkook (and his unconventional group of friends that he calls his family).

a/n: ngl i would feel so safe in a zombie apocalypse w bts akjnkas. also might write a drabble about hobi in this plot hehe. i hope you enjoyed and pls leave comments as they’re rlly encouraging and will help me improve in the future :’))

#bts #bts fanfic #bts jungguk #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #park jimin #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #hobi #min yoongi #Jung HoSeok #bts zombie au #bts fanfiction

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dangermousie · 3 years

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tell us about gu yun? I remember you saying he was one of your favourite shou’s and I find him really intriguing

Ohhhhh, I love this ask!!!

To back up from talking about Gu Yun (it's connected, I swear), I am gonna talk about Priest. Priest is an another who is epitome of "it's not you, it's me" for me. She is clearly a rock solid author with a good grasp on both plot and character writing and yet her novels generally do not work for me at all in terms of obsession because her narrative style and priorities and characters and the things she chooses to focus on within the narrative are not anything that resonate with me. I can appreciate her skills but they tend to leave me emotionally uninvolved; it's all too spare for me.

Sha Po Lang is about the only exception and that is largely because of Gu Yun. In a lot of ways, Gu Yun is a trope of a tragic noble general destroyed by a mistrustful incompetent emperor that appears in so many other fictional set-ups - he is deadly competent in battle (a sheer genius in fact), a child prodigy, someone who has a tragic backstory (parents who pushed too hard; poisoning that wrecked him), who is unflinchingly loyal and patriotic.

Honestly, I am a sucker for that sort of set-up, especially when the character is gorgeous. I have a competence kink and when you stir in tragedy, yes please.

But also, I love it because Gu Yun carries a lot of resentment towards his dead father and towards the old emperor - he chooses not to focus on it but he definitely feels it. He is a good person but not saintly and being loyal and steadfast is a choice, not a default and it is a continuous choice he makes over and over, not one and done.

He is also someone trapped by and in his failing body - due to that poisoning, he periodically goes blind and deaf and the medicine is less and less effective as time goes on and that whole working around your severe limitations and just pushing through is narratively compelling, especially since it gives me a combo of both competent/deadly and vulnerable/needs to be taken care of.

I also like that I just get a feeling of stillness from him. I am hyper myself in RL but I am not a big fan of hyper characters. Whenever I think of Gu Yun, I think of his kneeling in the snow not moving for hours - very very still. Plenty of characters have these scenes but that quiet resolution in him feels very innate, if it makes sense.

The thing is also, unlike the tragic loyal general trope, Gu Yun is lucky to attract the steadfast love of Chang Geng who is possibly even more competent but also definitely much less loyal. Chang Geng, who grew up in horrifically abusive circumstances and outside the court environment is not loyal to the emperor or the imperial family. He wants the country to run well and he wants Gu Yun protected and happy and the latter is bigger priority than the former and the current emperor is a barrier to both. One of the things I love about SPL (and Gu Yun) is how much the novel is about Chang Geng undertaking basically the smartest, slowest, and most thorough act of treason and usurpation to protect the most steadfastly loyal man in the country. It's delicious. And Gu Yun, who is no dummy, does figure it out eventually, and the tension!

The other and final thing is, I am very fond of how Chang Geng wants to be indulged by Gu Yun in bed and how Gu Yun goes along with it. In a lot of ways, their dynamic - with the younger gong prone to possibly fatal metal illness (or fantasy version of same) with violent flareups who wants to be indulged in bed by an older, former authority figure with fragile health - reminds me of He Yu and XQC if XQC actually was the put together person he appeared at the start of the novel and not an utter destroyed wreck he turned out to be.

Short version: Gu Yun is amazing and anyone who hasn't read Sha Po Lang pls do so!

#asks #cnovel #sha po lang

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kythed · 3 years

Text

“you can hear it in the silence” - a collection of conversations between you and futakuchi kenji.

1. april 14th, 7:56pm.

“it’s terribly boring, isn’t it?” the voice comes from right near your ear. you start, turning to see a young guy dressed in jeans, a tee, and a baseball cap, slouchy and messy in the most attractive and purposeful way. “the movie, I mean.”

you turn your eyes back towards the screen — some spanish neo-noir retelling of the same old “sexpot femme fatale turned domestic by a dashing hero with a horse” plotline. “yeah, it is. I only came so my film major friends would finally respect me.”

“that’s valid,” he whispers with a snort. an older man sitting beside him shushes him. “I only came so I could make fun of the people who only came to impress their film major friends.”

“oh, ouch,” you say, grinning. “way to attack like 90% of the foreign film audience.”

“I’d say it’s something more like 97%, actually,” he says, briefly glancing at the movie. the dark haired, sultry love interest is batting her lashes at the brooding protagonist, nightgown slipping off her shoulder. “the remaining 3% is horny teenagers who can’t yet figure out how to erase their search history.”

despite being in the middle of a crowded theater, you laugh, giggle echoing off the walls. several people turn around to shoot you dirty looks, and you immediately clap an apologetic over your mouth. oops.

“I’m kenji futakuchi,” your seat-neighbor whispers, extending a hand. “unprofessional film critic, engineering major, and thai tea hater. I’m willing to take you out for boba on our first date, but if you order thai tea it will also be our last.”

“bold of you to assume we’ll even have a first date,” you say, shaking his hand with another quiet laugh.

“oh, we will,” he says with what can only be described as a bona fide smirk. “I saw the way you were looking at me earlier.”

before you can respond, the curmudgeonly old man beside kenji leans over and scowls. “if you kids want to keep flirting, do so outside. some of us are here for cultural enrichment.”

kenji glances at you, face spelling out mischief. “you heard the man. shall we?”

for a moment, you consider saying no. but then reason kicks into gear and you stand up, dusting popcorn off your lap. “we shall.”

(discovery number one: your hand fits perfectly in his.)

2. may 2nd, 11:17am.

“you know, this actually isn’t so bad.” kenji takes another cautious sip. “still can’t hold a candle to jasmine.”

“I respect that,” you say, offering him a taste of your drink. “I feel like everyone who hates thai tea is just jumping on the bandwagon. it’s pretty decent.”

“you’re pretty decent,” he says petulantly, snatching your tea and replacing it with his own.

you roll your eyes. “your comebacks suck. still can’t believe I agreed to go out with you.”

kenji feigns a look of surprise. “oh, are we going out? I thought this was a platonic thing.”

you send a pointed look at his hand resting on your thigh, his thumb rubbing light circles in your skin.

kenji follows your gaze and suppresses a smile, shrugging. “friends do that.”

it’s a cool spring day, the air smelling of his cologne — vanilla, coffee, and burnt orange — and the eucalyptus growing in front of the cafe. the sunshine is fresh and pale, casting a glowy halo over kenji’s brunette mess of hair. he smiles rather angelically, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“and do friends do this?” you say softly, leaning forward so your nose is just centimeters from his.

kenji gulps, adam’s apple bobbing painfully in his throat. his voice cracks with his next words. “y-yeah. I do this with my buddies all the time. no homo.”

you slowly bring your hand up to cup his jaw, letting your eyes linger on his lips before glancing back up and smiling. “oh, good. ‘cause I do this with my girls all the time, too. full homo.”

“yeah?”

“mhm,” you purr, trying to channel some of that femme fatale energy, leaning even closer so you can feel his warm breath on your mouth — and then you pull away with a cackle, leaving kenji blinking down at you with reproach.

“women are so cruel,” he sighs wistfully, fanning his shirt and running a hand through his hair.

“sorry,” you chirp, not sorry at all. “I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“you don’t kiss on the first date?” kenji repeats. “so what’s the timeline — we hold hands today, and then you let me hug you next week, and then we kiss in a month, and then in like fifty years we finally fu—”

“kenji!” you say, whipping around. you’re scandalized. there’s a family with primary school aged kids sitting at the other table, shrieking with laughter and bouncing around like pinballs on a boba-fueled sugar high. “keep it PG.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything bad,” kenji complains. “I was just gonna say that in fifty years we finally, uh… furbish the condo we purchase together.”

“sure you were,” you say, and kenji just laughs. there’s something in the way he looks at you… something soft and affectionate that makes you think he might actually intend to stick around for fifty years. it scares you a little — but in a good way.

later that day, when kenji drops you off at your front porch, you lean forward again. usually you keep your word, but today’s an exception.

(discovery number two: he tastes like colgate and thai tea.)

3. august 21st, 8:02am.

“what the hell,” you cough, squinting through the smoke. you can barely hear yourself over the shrill beeping of the fire alarm resounding around your apartment. “kenji?”

kenji emerges from behind the fridge, nonchalantly leaning on the wall with a nervous smile. “hey, baby. sleep well?”

“don’t you ‘hey, baby’ me, mister,” you say, marching forward, fanning the smoke away with your oversized sleep shirt. (well, technically it’s his shirt, and that’s why it’s oversized. it fits perfectly fine on him.) “what in the world did you do?”

“why is it that when something goes wrong you always automatically blame me?” he complains, coughing.

“because it’s always your fault,” you say, gently but firmly pushing him aside to reveal, sitting innocently on the counter… a smoking toaster with two pieces of bread (burnt nearly completely black) resting in the slots. oh lord. “kenji. babe. darling.”

“ooh, keep going, please,” kenji coos, yelping when you lightly pinch his elbow. “hey!”

he’s about to retaliate before you double over in laughter, holding onto the edge of the kitchen counter for support. you choke out giggles between breaths, hardly able to keep balance. “you — (wheeze) — you nearly burnt down the kitchen — (wheeze) — trying to make toast?”

“it’s not as easy as it looks,” kenji insists, gingerly picking the slices of bread (although they’re more like crackers now) out from the toaster. “I’m sorry that I wanted to do something nice for my beautiful girlfriend. and I’m sorry that the only thing I could handle was toast and coffee. well, technically just coffee, I guess.”

he picks up a mug from the counter and offers it to you. “it might be kinda cold now. sorry. I tried.”

he’s so earnest and adorable and lovely in that moment — standing in the middle of the clouded kitchen in just mismatched socks and an old pair of boxers, holding the coffee out for you to see — that you can hardly contain yourself.

“god, I love you,” you say without thinking, the last word catching in your throat as you look up. oh. oops. kenji’s staring at you, unblinking, big brown eyes filled with… surprise? “I mean, I meant —”

“you love me?”

“I, uh,” you falter. this isn’t you; you’re supposed to be the calm and collected one. “this isn’t how I wanted to say it, but—”

“but you do, right? you love me?” kenji sets the mug back down and pulls you in by the waist, grinning broadly and resting his forehead against yours. your heart is pulsing erratically, but a smile big enough to match his somehow finds its way onto your face. you nod, and kenji immediately kisses you hard, tangling his fingers in the back of your hair.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly after finally parting. you feel the uncomfortable warmth of your face and the swollenness of your lips... but you can’t quite bring yourself to care. “I love you a lot.”

“you love me so much that you even tried to make me toast,” you laugh. “and you brought me cold coffee in my second favorite mug.”

“no, wait,” says kenji, glancing back towards said mug. “that’s your favorite mug.”

“no, my favorite is the green one with the—”

“—with the orange flowers,” kenji groans in realization, slapping a limp, penitent hand to his cheek. “I’m a failure of a boyfriend. I deserve to go to boyfriend jail.”

“you do,” you agree, nodding solemnly. “but lucky for you, I have a get-out-of-jail-free card right here.”

“oh?” says kenji, a devilish smile quirking up the corners of his lips.

you hum and offer him your clenched fist, like you’re about to place something in his palm. but when he extends his own outstretched hand, you interlace your fingers with his instead. “yep. right here.”

“you think you’re so clever,” kenji sighs, nonetheless bringing your hand up to press a brief kiss to your knuckles.

“I do.” you shuffle towards the counter to take a sip of the coffee — sure enough, it’s cold. (but he still made it exactly the way you like it.) “c’mon. breakfast.”

(discovery number three: burnt toast doesn’t taste so bad when you eat it with someone you love.)

4. november 1st, 10:38pm.

the commute across town from your university to your apartment is on the longer side, around forty minutes. it feels even longer late at night, though, on your way home from your part time job.

the subway rattles on its tracks as it slows to rest at a stop (but not yours) and a handful of sleepy passengers stumble out, swinging briefcases and pulling their scarves a little tighter. you stifle a yawn, slumping back into your seat.

“you okay?”

you smile. ever since you got hired a couple months ago, kenji’s insisted on coming to “pick you up” from work to take the train back with you, even though he works all the way across town. (he’ll probably stay the night — he has a drawer full of his things at your place these days, complete with a dozen wrinkled t-shirts, old soccer shorts, and a bundle of irreparably tangled chargers. he hasn’t bothered to bring his own shampoo over yet, though, claiming that “yours smells so nice and fruity” and “men’s shampoo just smells like nondescript testosterone and insecurity.” he’s right of course, but all the same, you’d rather he not use up all of yours.)

“yeah, I’m okay,” you sigh, taking his hand and feeling him begin to rub circles on your palm. you close your eyes. “just tired.”

“hi ‘okay-just-tired,’ I’m dad,” kenji says slyly, and you open one incredulous eye.

“did you really…?”

“I really did,” kenji says, puffing up his chest. “you walked right into it.”

you groan and fall on top of him dramatically, burying your face in his thick fleece jacket. “I’m too dead for this. I’m like frankenstein before he was reanimated — just a bunch of limbs and organs in a useless, fleshy pile.”

“technically, he’s frankenstein’s monster,” says kenji, petting your hair absentmindedly. “frankenstein’s the name of the doctor. cute literary allusion, though.”

“do you ever shut up?” your voice comes out muffled by kenji’s coat, but not at all devoid of its intended irritation.

“occasionally,” he says as you lift your head. he pulls you closer with one arm until you’re practically sharing a seat, legs interlocked, your temple resting on his shoulder and his chin nestled in your hair. “when I’m sleeping. when I’m eating — well, sometimes. sometimes I talk with my mouth full.”

“yeah, I’ve borne witness to that,” you say, wrinkling your nose. you’ve tried to improve kenji’s table manners countless times (especially in light of your family’s thanksgiving dinner soon approaching), but it’s all been in vain. most likely because he enjoys seeing you get worked up about his not using a coaster, etc. “disgusting.”

“when I’m concentrating on physics,” he continues, as if he hadn’t heard you. “when I’m in the library. when I’m kissing pretty girls.”

he bends down and tries to give you a peck, but you gasp and dodge it. “girls? plural? you’re out here kissing pretty girls other than me?”

“when I’m kissing one specific pretty girl,” kenji corrects himself, grinning.

you feel your own grin stretch across your face. “and which pretty girl is that?”

“my pretty girl,” he says smugly, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

you scoff. “corny.”

“you like it.”

you chew on your inner cheek, trying and failing to suppress your smile. “you know I do.”

the train’s speakers crackle alive, a cool automated voice emanating from their unseen perches: “approaching hiwamari station. projected arrival in: 1 minute.”

“alright, time to wake up, sleeping beauty,” kenji huffs, lugging you onto your feet. you hang limp in his arms like a rag doll, unwilling to bear your own weight. “you are perfectly capable of standing. shape up before I alert the authorities, you hooligan.”

“hmm,” you groan, finally arighting yourself with some difficulty. you want to ask where in the world he learned the word ‘hooligan,’ but your brain can hardly afford you even the most basic cognition right now. “it’s too late, and my knees hurt, and I’m tired, and I saw an ad for that new vietnamese place at the last station, and now I want banh mi. but I can’t have banh mi because there’s none on this side of town, and that irritates me.” you take a deep breath. “also, I’m cold.”

kenji laughs and slips a loose arm around your waist as the doors slide open, gently guiding you down onto the platform. the night air bites at your skin, painting goosebumps in its wake. you’re about ready to just sit down on the ground and curl into a frustrated, exhausted ball when he crouches down, fingers straightening and smoothing the lapels of your coat. “well, I can’t really help with the sore knees and the hankering for banh mi part, but I’m pretty sure you’re cold because you’ve had your buttons undone this entire time. dummy.”

he buttons your jacket quickly and deftly, careful to avoid pinching you in the process. a particular kind of warmth bubbles up in your chest at his concentrated expression — kenji likes to maintain his effortless, reckless reputation, but when it comes down to the bare bones of it all, he’s still the type of guy who’ll button his girlfriend’s coat for her. on the walk from the subway to your apartment, his arm doesn’t leave your body once, keeping you close to his side and shielded from the wind.

“I’m not a dummy.”

“sure, dummy.”

(discovery number four: body heat — specifically, kenji futakuchi’s body heat — is by far the most effective way to stay warm.)

5. december 23rd, 12:01pm.

“who’s your best friend?” the question pops into your mind and out of your mouth almost instantaneously. kenji, who’s lounging on the sofa next to you, turns, eyebrows furrowed. there’s a small douglas fir in the corner of the room, minimally decked with what ornaments you could “diy” from around the house: snowflakes made of sticky notes, bedazzled plastic utensils, etc. several small packages have been haphazardly tossed around the tree’s base, yours neatly wrapped in red tissue paper and string, kenji’s covered in newspaper and excessive scotch tape. (he tried. maybe not his best, but he tried.)

“depends,” he says, turning off his phone and tossing it onto the carpet. “what’s your definition of best friend?”

“you know,” you say, helplessly splaying your fingers. “monica and rachel. frodo and sam. taylor swift and karlie kloss.”

“hold on,” kenji says, holding up a hand. “didn’t taylor swift and karlie kloss have a falling out?”

“yeah, but for the sake of the argument,” you insist. you narrow your eyes. “wait. how do you know about that?”

“you talk about it every time you listen to that one album, which is at least once a month,” kenji says with a grin. “probably more like twice, actually.”

“oh.” you flush, making a mental note to use earbuds more often. “anyways. answer the question.”

“wait, but you just gave me a bunch of examples,” kenji complains. he glances briefly out the window, which is iced over like a sugar cookie, obscuring the snowscape outside. mariah plays faintly in the background, jingling and whistle tones echoing through the halls. “you didn’t define anything.”

“a best friend,” you begin, faltering and taking a moment to think. a best friend… what is a best friend, really? you frown for a moment before smiling brightly. “a best friend is a commitment. it’s when you commit to being there for somebody when they need you. and it’s when you commit to finding that person when you need them, too.”

kenji lets out a low whistle. “okay then, socrates.”

“it wasn’t that deep,” you say with a laugh. “so. who’s yours?”

kenji grins boyishly, face lighting up like a christmas tree topper. “easy. you’re my best friend.”

oh. you weren’t expecting that. your chest gives an involuntary little thump of pleasure. “me? what about kamasaki?”

“mmm,” kenji muses, counting on his fingers. “he’s, like, my fourth best friend. maybe third on a good day. but you’re the one I go to first.”

you have the sudden urge to wrap your limbs around him like a koala and never let go; only your dignity keeps you from tackling him right then and there. you clear your throat, praying he can’t hear your thoughts — he’d never let you live it down. “you’re mine, too.”

kenji doesn’t respond, just smiles and rolls off the couch onto the floor with a thud, spreading out on the carpet like a seastar. the silence doesn’t bother you, though — silence (what little you can get of it) is comfortable with you two. plus, it’s never really silent. there’s always something there, something very undefinable but very real.

(discovery number five: you are in love.)

#you guys seemed to really like the last of these so I might make it a series??#cackles #also ly if you see this the last one was supposed to be for the event #I'm sorry it's so late #also I got carried away and made it a whole thing #I hope it still counts T-T #futakuchi kenji #futakuchi kenji x reader #futakuchi #futakuchi x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #hqcorenet

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