#idk idk the idea that the control your heart thing is a bad terrible thing forcing izuku to repress his emotions doesn't vibe with me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 4 years ago

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espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn��t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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justwonder113 · 4 years ago

Note

I saw that you're gonna start writing haikyuu fanfic and !!! I have a request if you don't mind. Daichi with a girlfriend (or partner if you prefer writing gn) who is usually very tough (not necessarily stoic or mean) they're pretty physically strong and generally have spent their lives looking out for themselves and everyone else(v self sacrificial... probably to an unhealthy degree) and daichi and them have a fight and they just sorta break down about how they always have to look after themselves and everyone else and how no one's ever been the one to protect them and they just want a moment where they don't feel like they have to fight all the time, perhaps ends in fluff? Idk if you like the idea I would love to read your take on it but if not that's totally cool!:)

Hi there, thank you so much for an amazing request like this it was an amazing challenge for me and I really hope you like it, I'm really sorry I haven't been able to update it earlier, it's just it turned out harder than I imagined, but I'm really glad I finished it, I really enjoyed writing it maybe it's because I know the feeling but i don't know, I hope this is what you had in mind and I hope you will like it too.

Daichi x ( f)Reader (but nothing's really implied so basically I think it's gn, have to proof read it again.)

WARNINGS:Angst to fluff, mental breakdown and anxiety attack, also a reader who isn't somfortable showing their emotional side and is more of a lone wolfs who can take care of everything by themselves.

Word cound; around 3k

You didn't even know when you started shielding yourself from everyone and everything or when was the first time you thought that you had to be the one in control of everything all strong and all, but it was part of you now definitely. You didn't think of it as something bad and you certainly didn't expect that your timidness could lead you to having an argument with your boyfriend.

For as long as you knew you were the one taking care of everything, you dealt with your own stuff and sometimes even helped others with theirs. It was always like that and at this point you just got used to it.

You liked the fact that you were this reliable, strong and independent person in the other's eyes. It made you feel better about yourself. Just knowing that people felt like they could trust you and come up to you was kind of ego boosting. It was also good knowing that there were people who looked up to you and admired you.

You were fine with keeping up this image if you knew that you made others feel at least somewhat better with your words of advice.

You knew how important it was sometimes to just let everything out but you were not like so many of your acquaintances, you couldn't just go to someone and vent out everything you had in you no matter howuch you trusted them or how approachable they were. Firstly, if you were to open up to someone you would need to have really deep trust to the said person, and secondly you just couldn't vent out because you knew how it felt like to be on the receiving end.

You loved your friends and you would move mountains for them, you really appreciated that they felt safe with you and trusted you, but sometimes being on the receiving end all the time and taking all this negativity away from them was really emotionally draining. Like some people would come up to you whining about all the drama in their lives and how miserable they were, they would let out everything and then would just leave without even asking how you were doing. You just couldn't do the same to the others no matter how much you were going through, you wouldn't burden them with your problems and all your drama. Even if it meant storing everything inside for all eternity.

Well it wasn't like you didn't want to let your emotions out and vent out everything to everyone, to let someone else help you bear this burden at least once, especially at times when you felt most vulnerable, then dealing with all this seemed impossible, whenever you were so stressed that it was affecting your lifestyle, you couldn't eat drink or sleep normally. Or whenever everything seemed to pile to the point that you felt this horrible tightness in your chest area, when your stomach was swirling nonstop and you felt claustrophobic, when your breathing was shaggy and your mind was foggy yet wouldn't stop working and kept coming up with all those unnecessary thoughts. Those were the times when you truly felt that no matter how strong and capable you were you didn't want to be alone. You didn't want to be this strong person for just this moment, you didn't want to be the one in control you wanted to be the one taking cared of and being pampered. You wanted to just let go knowing that someone was there to listen to you, to hold you when you finally fell apart.

You thought that maybe you were shielding everyone from this side of you, you didn't want to burden them, you didn't want to come as overbearing and maybe you were shielding yourself from them too, because what if others found you annoying, too weak, fragile and unable to take care of everything. Maybe they would find out that, in the end, you were nothing special, you were too pain and just not worth it, so it was a perfect defence mechanism.

You weren't doing anything wrong right? So then why was it the reason you got in the fight with your boyfriend? Why was something that was meant to protect you this much pain? And why couldn't you say anything even after this? Why were you still terrified of speaking up? You were talking about Daichi whom you trusted with your whole life. A man who was willing to be with you trhough thick and thin. You didn't know anyone else who was more reliable and kind or sweet like him. You felt thankful everyday that you had him by yourside, he made almost everyday better for you.

Maybe that's why you were so afraid to speak up? That he was so perfect? Maybe after seeing this side of yours he would realize how much more he deserved. He would realize how flawed you actually were and that you were not worth all this trouble and that terrified you. You were most definitely not ready to end things with him, not that you were thinking that you would ever be. Daichi was the one thing you wanted constantly in your life, you were hundred percent sure of it. He was really precious and dear to you even though he didn't really believe you now.

You felt that you were slowly losing control over yourself and gripped yourself tighter, to make you feel more safe. It felt like the walls were closing down on you and you felt claustrophobic even though you were on the balcony and the chilly wind was hitting you in the face. Your whole body was trembling but not from the cold weather or your chilly out of place attire. You felt numb like there was nothing inside you, only this heavy thing on your chest and all this thoughts that were only making things worse.

What was the time even? You lost track of it trying to regain yourself, it had to be really late, as you watched horizon you noticed that sun would soon start to rise, you stayed up all night huh? Daichi would wake up soon too to go to work too, how could you avoid him then? You didn't know what to tell him, what to do. You coudln't even go to bed, to lay next to him, you felt guilty because you knew that as much as you had your reasons to act this way he had them too and he also was in pain because of you, because he thought that you didn't trust him and didn't love him enough. You felt terribly guilty because you couldn't even manage to say anythin after he opened up to you, after he showed you his vulnerable side. Daichi wasn't the one to openly talk about his emotions so you knew what it cost him too. You hated yourself so much for it.

You couldn't really stop the tears at this point, any second now you would fall apart and you didn't even know if you would be able to pick yourself up before he woke up.

"Y/N?" You heard a deep grumble making you jump. You looked back to see your boyfriend looking at you with wide eyes. In seconds he was next to you wiping your tears away, scanning your face carefully. "You're freezing! What are you doing here? Didn't you go to sleep? What about your clothes? Where is your robe? You will catch a cold!" He kept mumbling to himself while rubbing your cheeks gently, he looked completely awake now. How did he care about you so much after you hurt him this bad, how did he not leave? Why was he so worried about you? Were you really worth it? Why did he really love you? So many whys were piling up in your head.

You felt this tightness against your heart and you doubled over holding your chest tightly. The sobs kept breaking our from your mouth and your whole body was shaking uncontrollably. Daichi immediately took you in his arms and took you inside sitting you both on the bed and wrapping a blanket around you to at least somehow warm your freezing body. His large hands immediately found their place around you as he helped you sit on his lap, rubbing soothing circles there and there to help you calm down whilest murmuring against your neck to just keep breathing.

"I'm here love, you're safe, you can let it all out." He mumbled and placed a kiss on your shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere... You're safe, I'm here with you." You continued sobbing you couldn't really stop now, it was as if the dam was finally broken, you couldn't really hold anything in even if your life was on the line Daichi was the only one grounding you. Thankfully Daichi didn't even think of letting go, he held you in his arms and let you let everything out. It felt like you've been crying for hours, eventually fatigue must have taken over because the next thing you saw was total darkness.

When you opened up your eyes the first thing you noticed was the brightness, it must have been at least noon now. The next thing was two arms still being tight around your frame. Your head was still on Daichi's shoulder. He must have moved you both because both of you were under a blanket now, still in yesterday's attire. You felt a bit sore, but that must have been from sitting for hours on the balcony. Your head hurt like crazy, it felt like you had one of the worst hangovers, you could swear you could hear slight ringing.

"Are you awake love?" Daichi asked quietly to check if you were really awake, he shifted slightly groaning quietly, it made you jolt up which was a bad decision because your head hurt even more now.

"Were you like this all night? God I'm sorry it must have been so uncomfortable!" You felt guilty seeing that he spent all night sitting against bed frame having you in his lap. It must have been really uncomfortable.

"It's fine, I didn't really want to let you go. How could I, I think it was the first time I have ever seen you cry. It scared the hell out of me when I saw that you were not in the bed and then it scared me even more when I saw that you were on the verge of breaking down on the balcony at 4am. How are you feeling now?" He took your hand in his and looked at you expectantly. You froze, it was what you were afraid of, you made him worry so much and he saw how pathetic you could get, on top of it you made him spend whole night like that just because he felt responsible of you. "Okay I can hear gears in your head shifting and based on your look right now I'm pretty sure you're thinking unnecessary stuff. Just don't hold back talk to me, please?" He looked at you with pleading eyes, squeezing your hand tighter.

"I made you worry, and you spent the whole night holding me in that uncomfortable position all because I couldn't hold it in and was weak." You mumbled in shame.

"Who said that I thought you were weak?" Daichi asked and he honestly looked dumbfounded.

You took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm saying it, I hate it when I can't control my emotions and act like a whiny crybaby. I hate whenever it happens, and everything seems out of my control, and I especially hate it there's another one to witness it. I don't want people to see how weak I am." You finally said it and looked down in shame wrapping your hands tighter around your frame. You looked up when Daichi pinched both of your cheeks and inspected your face again. "Ow Dai what are you doing?" You whined.

"Had to make sure you were human and not a robot." He smiled at you and kissed your hand. " I will tell you a secret, I have never thought that you were at least somewhat close to being weak, in fact you're probably one of the strongest people I have ever met. I admire you, I really do. You're so strong, confident, this powerful person whom everyone loves and admires including me." He placed another kiss on your temple, "you don't know how proud I am to be called your boyfriend! And I don't see this habit of yours as something bad, I was out of line yesterday and I really hurt you saying that you don't trust me or love me, it was never my intention to make you worry this much and seeing you in that shape because of me really broke my heart. I know you trust me and I know you love me, you never fail to make me realize it. You're always there for me whenever I need it, through thick and thin, you always know what goes in my mind and always help me with whatever you can, I can't really count how many times you have helped me. You make every day brighter for me and I can't help but feel thankful that I have you. You don't have to worry about it okay? It's just that I got insecure and it really got to me that's why I was on edge yesterday and provoked an argument." He rubbed his neck sheepishly when he noticed that you were dumbfounded, he took a deep breath to continue. " It's just that seeing you being all reliable and approachable made me question if I was doing at least remotely good job being there for you too, you're always doing everything on your own like you don't need anyone else to do what's needed and I was worried that you would realize that you didn't really need me. I guess it was my own way of saying that I needed some sort of confirmation." He rubbed his neck looking away from you, "I know you're capable of taking care of yourself and that you don't like showing your vulnerable side, that's completely understandable but you're a human too. You shouldn't just hold everything in, you have to let it out at some point and I want to be there for you when that happens. I like that you're always there for others, for me but I don't want you to forget about yourself, I want you to think about yourself more. You're amazing, the most amazing human being and I thank the stars everyday that I met you. But when I see you struggling hut still trying to shrug it off to play it off because you don't want to burden anyone or just because you're not used to asking for help really breaks my heart. I can't bear to imagine that something like yesterday can happen again. I've known you for years and no matter how much you try to hold it in I notice when you're struggling. I know you have been stressed a lot these days, you don't eat nor sleep like you used too and there's also some other signs. I wanted to give you time, you would approach me when you felt like it but when you never did I started questioning whether or not was I a reliable partner for you. Now I realize I was just feeling pretty and how much my words actually hurt you." He leaned his forehead on yours, "I'm sorry love." Listening to all this you could feel your your eyes start to water up but somehow you didn't really feel the urge to bring yourself together asap, you felt oddly comfortable.

"Have I ever told you that even tears look best on you? God how am I so lucky?" Daichi teased you and started littering your face with kisses making a smile break from you. You smiled fondly as you started to play with his hair, Daichi only hummed in appreciation. "Man, how am I so lucky?"

"Shut up, you're being sappy." You tested, Daichi grinned.

"I'm not the one in love with a sappy person," his eyes tingled with mischief.

"Well, I can't deny that, it's very much true." You purred and gave him a kiss, "I'm helplessly in love with a sap, who is the most amazing boyfriend, he's the most loyal, kind, dependable and amazing person, who makes me happy every day. I trust you the most and I know that I can count on you any time of any day. I didn't approach you because I didn't want to affect the mood, your life has been going on great and I didn't want ro ruin your good mood. I also knew that part of my problems were caused by me so I wasn't really in the mood to talk about it and I knew I had to be one to take care of everything, well I thought I could. Mostly I didn't want you to think I'm weak, I'm not that confident and powerful and I have many flaws I was kind of afraid you would see it and realize that you deserve better" you sniffed and rubbed You nose, you felt vulnerable, it felt as if you were naked and were showing yourself to Daichi, every word was stained and forced and it made you really uncomfortable but you wanted him to know everything, he deserved it. Daichi gripped your hand tighter to encourage you. "It's just I've been dealing with everything on my own since I remember, it was always me, at first it was really lonely but when people started noticing my independence and resourcefulness I kinda grew into it, it was like a confidence booster, but after that when I really needed help, when I was unable to come up with solutions I found it impossible to ask for help. I'm supposed to be strong I'm supposed to be smart so why am I asking for help to others? Can't I deal with this? I just can't find the power to go up to others even when I know that it's most reasonable thing. I know I can rely on you and you don't realize how much of a breather it's for me, and you help me in so many ways and I think you don't even realize that. I'm trying to say that I will try better and I will make sure to get over this problem but I will need time, but please remember that I really love you and I trust you with my life and I will do my best to make sure you know it okay?" You were amazed, it felt like something lifted of your chest and Daichis smiling face only made the feeling stronger. Tears were still streaming down your face but you didn't really care, this was who you were and you wanted to show it to him.

"You're not perfect love and you will never be" your heart skipped a beat at Daichi's serious tone, you felt terrified because it felt like the moment you dreaded the most, you knew he loved you but you also knew he was one of the reasonable guys, "the word is already flawed because nothing in this world is perfect, not you, not me and not everyone and not everything. Everything has it's flaws I have them as much as you do. You don't need to be perfect and you don't need to work yourself to fix your flaws. You are who you are and that's why I love you, I love everything about you including this so called weak side of yours. I love that you strive to be the best but I don't like that you're bringing yourself down to achieve it. You're amazing, you're capable, you're kind and you're smart and god you're so beautiful both on the inside and outside. I think I'm lucky I'm even breathing the same air as you, " he smiled cheekily at you making you giggle. "I want to say that you don't need to fix anything this is who you are and I love and support you, but if you want to improve I'm here and I will help you every step of the way. I will be always there for you, you don't even have to tell me anything just somehow point to me that you need me and I will do my best, we can talk about it for hours or we can just sit in silence for the whole night but you will know that I'm with you, just please don't be afraid to approach me, I will never judge you and I will never turn my back on you. In fact" Daichi got up and went to one of the drawers only to take out small box and return to you. You looked up at him with wide eyes. " I didn't plan on giving you this het because I wanted to plan this romantic evening but I think it's a good idea to give it to you now. Y/n you're the love of my life, and as cheesy as it sounds you're my sun, my moon and my stars, you make me feel more alive than I ever was and you just make everything better. I can't promise you a wedding or something in the near future but I want to give you this to let you know how serious I am about you and this relationship. I want to give you this as a sign that I will be there for you and I will love you till the rest of my days. I love every part of you and I want to help to teach you how to love them too." He put the box on your palm after he finished speaking, you were speechless, and torn between wanting to jump on him and drown him with kisses and proclamations of your love and curiosity of the box. You opened the box to find that beautiful ring you were eyeing few weeks ago when you went out with Daichi.

"I think I fell for you harder." You mumbled still in shock, you stared ar your new ring with lovesick eyes, which by the way sat perfectly on your fingers.

"well look who's being a sap now," Daichi grinned and kissed the hand you put your ring on. "But either way it's good because since I didn't go to work today I demand my cuddles now and I expect to be given them now, few kisses would be nice too." You giggles and got closer to him.

"Aww is my babyboy feeling needy?"You teased but still started kissing his face, Daichi smiled and nodded his head, holding you by the waist tightly. You smiled and got closer to him, everything felt just perfect. He really was your safe heaven.

#haikyuu fuff #haikyuu angst to fluff #haikyuu #hq #sawamura daichi #daichi imagine #daichi x y/n #daichi x reader #requests #haikyuu!#daichi #angst to fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x you

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bluecookies02 · 4 years ago

Text

Dabi(Touya) x Reader-nsfw

cw: reader has a puss,creampie, reader being called daddy,not in a particularly sexy way tbh, loose mentions of pregnancy, subby Touya, fluffy toxic relationship, heavy themes but it's kinda happy I think????

->mdi, thank you.

Dabi expresses almost everything through sex. Anger, passion, love, fear and basically any other emotion a person can feel.

He'll use your pussy until it's a ruined sloppy mess full of his cum, rough thrusts shaking the bed and denting the walls where the headboard slams against it. He'll cum nice and deep, with a ruthless slam of his hips while he groans out, nails digging into your skin like he hates you. He'll stare through you while he thinks about whatever made him mad. He'll come down from his high slowly, a sigh leaving his lips when he falls on top of you, laying his head on your shoulder and selfishly enjoying the kisses you place in his hair. Depending on the day he'll feel guilty, but that's only when he can afford to overthink. He appreciates your reassurance and he's lucky he doesn't need to voice it out.

He has moments where he'll look absolutely whipped, eyes glued to yours while he drags his cock in and out of your walls, mouth slightly open because he can't keep it together, overly sensitive from the intimacy, and at moments like those he's so close to running off and dealing with the overwhelming feeling consuming every last nerve in his body. Instead, he'll press his lips to yours, gasping against them, fingers moving to your hands to tangle them together, squeezing until his knuckles turn pale. He knows those nights mean a lot to you too so he tries to indulge you as much as he can.

He never believed that having a kid proved love between two people, his parents are a living proof of that... but he catches himself wanting to get you pregnant more often then not. He's not ready for a child, hell he's not sure if either of you truly want one, but the fact that you'd look so sinfully hot carrying his little devils makes him want to risk it all. There's also a part of him that wants to prove to himself that he's fit to be a father, that he's not that terribly broken like his dad and that he has control over his past. Then there's a part of him that's scared, cringing at the thought of the responsibility, causing his brain to shut that idea down as fast as it came. If it ever gets brought up it'll have to be by you.

He holds you extra tight on the nights he doubts himself. You're going out of your way to let him know how loved he is but it can't help the voice in his head. He feels terrible that your love isn't enough to fix him. And that's okay, you know it's not your fault, it's not his either. He's slowly coming to terms with it, he'll never be fully healed.

Sometimes it gets bad, really really bad. Sometimes he can't keep anything in anymore, breaking down, shaking and begging to be loved, too out of it to keep the wall up, letting it break loose, hoping that you'll take care of everything.

And you do.

Your hands keep him sane, grounding him when he feels like he's losing touch with the world. Every touch gives him goosebumps, sending small electric shocks in their wake. And he begs for the only thing he can, he begs to get fucked. To get so thoroughly fucked out until his brain turns to mush, only focusing on the numbing pleasure while he cums over and over and over. He doesn't remember what he keeps blabbering when he gets like this, or maybe he does but he'll never admit it.

Broken words and syllables forming a choked out "Daddy please" or "I'm sorry" or the one that broke your heart the first time you heard it-"I'll do better".

He gets clingy when it's all over, basking you in attention to try and show how thankful he is, also checking to see if you'll be repulsed by him. You think about it a lot when he's sound asleep and snoring, drool seeping into your shirt. You have hope, and you're already too deep to let him go. And when he mumbles your name in his sleep, humming against your neck, there's no other choice than to stay.

I offer you this, idk what it is either but I had fun hurting my own feelings and that's all that matters right?

Ko-Fi 💙 | Patreon ✨

#bnha #mha #dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya x reader smut #touya x reader lemon #dabi #touya #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader smut #dabi x reader lemon #honestly just a lil drabble #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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behindyourbarrette · 3 years ago

Note

35 from the fluff and 39 from the angst prompt list for Spencer, one of the episodes he gets hurt or a completely made up situation with a fem!reader

thanks for the request!

35. "You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?"

39. "Because I know when I open my eyes this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll lose you again."

a/n: ANGST IS SO HARD? i am a fluffy person idk how to do this lol ALSO this is longggg it's 996 words. i can't believe i had to add a "keep reading" but idc it’s technically a blurb i guess

warnings: mention of hospitals, death, major injury, but everything is fine in the end lol

---

You don't know how to do this.

You're in uncharted territory. None of your exes ever landed themselves in life threatening situations while you were together. None of them were quite like Spencer, either. You consider this in the grocery store, tears welling behind your eyes as you try to pick up the essentials.

Penelope called early that morning. "There was an incident." She said, voice thick with tears and grief. "Spence is in the hospital. It's bad."

He's been in surgery for hours. It's his neck, of all places, his perfect and necessary-to-sustain-life neck. Emily took you by the shoulders and told you to go home, to sleep in your own bed.

"We'll be here." She said, and you wonder how she has so much resolve. "If anything changes, you're the first person we'll call."

You can't sleep. So you do the only thing you can do—prepare. For if, and when, Spencer gets home. He's jokingly called the apartment you share a sanctuary, mid shimmy in your kitchen. It's certainly functioned that way before. Inside, you two exist away from the world. Away from bullets and hospitals and funerals. There's always something on the stove, laundry spinning. He's right. You need it to be full of life and food and vibrance when he gets home. You do not consider the idea that it might just be your apartment, now.

You grab a four-pack of strawberry Jell-O, when the breeze of the perishable cooler sends a chill down your spine and you're reminded. You buy it in hopes that he'll be awake when you arrive, to tell you that hospital cups are better. You have never craved him, his corrections and little anecdotes about the temperature at which milk and yogurt need to be kept, more. The store is nearly empty as is, but it's lonely without him.

The cashier scans your items quickly, but they do a double take when they see your eyes, bloodshot and puffy. They don't say anything, and hand you your bag with a soft smile.

"Good luck," they call, once your back is turned. You don't have the heart to turn and thank them, sobs wracking through you as you make your way to the car.

When you arrive at the hospital, everyone is gone. Fear reaches into your chest and squeezes; you don't feel yourself rush towards the nurse's station, but you're there within a few seconds.

"Can I get an update on Spencer Reid?" You say, within a singular breath.

The nurse eyes you for a moment, her gaze ghosting over your left hand. You pass whatever test she conducts, though, because she offers you a subdued smile.

"Three doors down on the left, honey." It takes all of your self control not to run across the linoleum floor. You can hear laughter from inside, though, and hope blooms in your throat as you round the corner. Morgan and Penelope are inside, teary-eyed, but regard you with wide eyes and sighs of relief.

Spencer looks terrible. But you've never been happier to see him.

"I missed you." You manage, unable to differentiate between a laugh and a sob as you sink into a chair. He smiles, and reaches for your hand. You press a chaste kiss to his lips, acutely aware that his friends are watching but wholly uncaring.

"You didn't think you'd be able to get rid of me that easily, did you?"

He's there. Warm, and flushed, and alive, his hand in yours and laughing as he watches you wipe tears from your cheeks. You joke with Derek a little, learning the story of what happened. It will always scare you. It is hard enough, to let him leave. To wake up to an empty side of the bed, a note scrawled with care. Knowing that this is a possibility should scare you more, but it feels more like a confirmation of what you already know. That he's here. And he's alright.

"You brought Jell-O?" He rasps, when a nurse brings a tray over for lunch. You reach into your bag, and hand Derek one before he can steal Spencer's.

"She's a keeper, Pretty Boy." Morgan meets your eye, and something about the tone of his voice tells you he's not really joking.

Later, when Penelope and Derek have left, you linger. The low glow of his heart monitor shines blue against the wall, and you have to stop yourself from staring at it all night long. To make sure.

"Come here."

Spencer pats the bed, his upper body unmoving. You cock your head to the side, confused. You're perfectly content with your chair, though it isn't entirely comfortable.

"You need to sleep." He continues, eyes glinting in the dark. You shake your head, waving him off.

"I'm fine. You're the one who needs rest. Let me watch." You can feel emotion bubbling up, residual from the day prior. If anything, you're glad he's able to argue with you at all. "You don't sleep well when I'm gone. Get in here. There's room." He pasts the sheets again, and you're unable to resist. You clamber onto the bed and wrap your arms around his waist, as tenderly as you can. He seems to settle, eyes fixed on the ceiling as you breathe in sync.

"It's okay. I'm here. You can go to sleep." He whispers.

"I can't. Because I know when I open my eyes this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll lose you again."

He squeezes your hand in a quick rhythm. You're reminded of an afternoon in the park, the smell of cut grass against a chess board. Morse code, taught hastily but with a singular phrase in mind.

You press into him, the beep of the monitors fading into the background as you fall asleep. He's there, real and breathing, tied to you in a way inseverable by bullets and bad men. Unbreakable.

send in a request!

#WHEW #my first angst fic #also i love you is really long in morse code #but this is fan fiction it doesn't need to make sense #pretend its a short squeezable message lmao #spencer reid x reader #rory celebrates 100 🥳

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musicallisto · 4 years ago

Note

congrats on 900 Clara, you deserve every single one of your followers + hundreds more!

✒️ + Leo Valdez (hoo)?

thank you so much amelia, you're a sweetie pie <3

Ψ 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 (𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐳)

song: aerosmith - i don't want to miss a thing | 𝄞 (yeah not even rocketman lmfao)

author notes: okay hang on, follow my thought process here. i didn't want to write something angsty or heavy because i have enough of it already, and this song was written for armageddon, right? which is about a space mission or an asteroid hitting earth or something, right? (idk i haven't seen it) so bam! there you have it. leo + rocket science = imminent disaster.

features: leo and reader being cute as well and maybe (or maybe not) being the harbringers of chaos. i don't know what this is but at least it's something i guess.

"𝐋𝐄𝐎, 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 a terrible idea."

"Every discovery in the history of mankind started as a terrible idea. Be a little grateful! You're witnessing history in the making."

"History of Camp Jupiter, maybe... the fateful day it caught on fire."

Your arms crossed over your chest, your preoccupied demeanor, the nervous and intermittent tapping of your foot on the dry soil, far from deterring Leo in his pursuit of engineering grandeur, were all a steady little music playing in the background. He was more focused than you had ever seen him, even when working on Festus - maybe because he had never attempted to send a rocket into the sky, or maybe because some part of him did fear setting the whole forest on fire.

"Okay, at least let me help you," you interjected after a few moments of unbearable waiting. "If you're going to do this, at least do it right."

"Do you doubt my engineering prowesses?"

"Oh, no, you can build pretty much anything. I'm just not sure you can do it without causing a wildfire first."

"I'm very offended," Leo mock-gasped, his amused lips curling into a falsely stunned oval, a sooty hand on his heart. "But fine, since you want to do damage control so bad, you can check that the butterfly nuts are secured."

You both fell into quiet concentration, busying yourselves each on your part of the miniature rocket. Now and then, your fingers brushed when you worked on adjacent pieces; his hands, calloused and specked with grime, brought the same warm comfort they always did, like they had absorbed the Sun and dispersed it everywhere they touched. You couldn't help a small smile from forming on your lips at the sight of your boyfriend, exalted by his application to his work, brown curls bouncing on his forehead each time he took a step back to admire his creation.

Teasing Leo was your way of thanking him for every little adventure he brought you, every overpowering bout of laughter he gifted you with.

"So? About those nuts?"

You snapped back to reality in a fraction of a second. Gods above, how had Leo was up and wiping his hands on his trousers already?

"Uh... Yeah! They're good. I think."

"And I'm the careless one?" he sighed, lips curling into a beautiful smile as he shook his head. Still, he motioned for you to step back until you blended into the treeline around the clearing.

"Alright, this is the moment of truth."

Somewhere in the distance, the incessant chatter and clatter of Camp Jupiter remained unaware of the miracle of science - or the sheer debacle and devastating explosion - it was about to witness. Your breath hitched in your throat; your jaw tensed up involuntarily. Leo, on the other hand, was unreadable, all traces of humor gone from his furrowed brow. He pressed a few buttons... muttered a few words, an irritated exhortation, probably...

The two small boosters on either side of the main structure caught fire like firecrackers, whistling in a trail of powder all the way to the center of the rocket; Leo jumped out of the way, barely a second before the sharpened, colorful nose hauled itself up, with great difficulty at first. Then, as the flames grew stronger and a vibrant, white flash engulfed the clearing, the rocket picked up speed and confidence. It was then that you started to clap in relief - but Leo remained careful.

Only when his rocket surpassed the dense canopy, surging higher and higher into a baby blue sky, like a dancing stick of dynamite, did Leo burst into laughter.

"Ha! We did it - Y/N, we did it! It worked!"

Before you could remind him that it was all his work - that you had no idea what a butterfly nut even was -, he had lifted you in his arms and spun you around, still laughing like a sunbeam, and you swore you were the one who was coursing through space.

"Leo," you murmured after he had put you down and kissed you twice - because we make the best of teams, you and me -, "what about the landing?"

He tensed ever so slightly in your embrace, but his features did not flinch for a second, and you were grateful for it. He looked so much more beautiful, draped with the brilliance of happiness.

"Ah, so that's what I forgot."

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee @softeninglooks (all my writing) @lxncelot @heavcnslyre (riordanverse)

#mywriting #900sprints #riordanverse #pjo #percy jackson #hoo #leo valdez #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #pjo imagine #hoo imagine

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i-am-the-ass-admiral · 3 years ago

Text

For A Laugh (Benny Miller x gn!reader)

Summary: It’s Benny’s first time at a gay bar and you ask him out the worst way possible; ~1.4k

Tags: humor, colloquial writing style, lust, teasing, flirting, implied bi!benny and reader, bad jokes (like terrible impeccable taste), alcohol consumption, excessive use of the word ‘baby’, soft benny, first date (sort of), au, meet-cute

Rating: Teen

Note: look i’ve never done this before, i just really really got stuck on this idea and i really liked benny. might not be your idea of him but god i think he’s a huge dork and a giant softie so here we are. wanted to throw a queer reader out there since you just don’t see them all that much and do something maybe a little off the wall? idk have fun, i think i’m hilarious XD

By some stroke of fate, you pick Benny up at a bar the first time you meet.

He’s not hard to spot in a crowd as tall as he is and you’re just buzzed enough that your eye keeps coming back to him as the night goes on. He slides from corner to corner with his shoulders slightly hunched and the proverbial tail between his legs, following two shorter men who obviously know what kind of bar they’ve walked in to. Benny though—you didn’t know his name at the time so you called him Baby in your head—darts around with a kind of deer-in-headlights expression. It’s cute.

And annoying.

At first, you roll your eyes at him. Great, another straight dude to hit on your friends and get mad when they say no.

Then you watch him a little longer.

You can’t help it, he’s pretty and looks more than a little lost and even from the end of the bar you can see how wide his tentative smile gets as he looks around. He likes what he sees; you’re just trying to figure out exactly what it is he’s liking. For a while Baby sits at a table with his friends. Holds a fruity cocktail between his knees almost as if he’s scared to be seen with it. Then after a couple drinks his smile gets wider and his voice gets loud. Boy’s boisterous—you can tell by the way he talks with his hands and throws his head back to laugh. He’s actually really fun to watch and it makes you smile. His buddies look almost out of place too until they get up to dance and—wow, talk about snake hips and floor sex, you haven’t seen anyone dance that good off the drag stage in ages. Baby stares at his empty drink for a bit, lost again, then heads to the bar. Not far from where you are, actually. Watching him walk with a couple drinks in him is a world of difference to how he first came in. There’s a swing in his broad shoulders, a confident cocky tilt to his head and you’re not sure if you want to punch him or if it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

Despite your better judgment, you’re leaning to the latter.

You make a bet with yourself as he pulls up at the bar—he got the fun drink to please his friends, he’ll order something boring now—and you’re pleasantly surprised to lose your own bet. Baby orders a whole-ass mai tai and looks overjoyed at the gigantic slice of pineapple and cherries garnishing the top. He turns to the stage. Avidly watches a few performers and even starts cheering. That’s when others folks start to take notice. A couple men make a pass and, wouldn’t you know it, Baby plays nice. Smiles and nods politely even though you can tell he’s not really into it. Not totally but it makes you think…

Maybe Baby’s a little bendy and not as straight as you thought.

At that point in the night, your friends are on their fifth dance, you’re on your third drink, and it’s getting way too loud in here for you. You were going to step out for a bit anyway—or so you tell yourself—so why not have some company? Who knows, you might get lucky. And if not, you’ll have an even better excuse to get some air and at least you can say you did it for laughs. Not that this is a casino but you’re feeling feisty. Might as well roll the dice. Baby looks like the kinda Midwest-flavored bite of beefcake that will either have great taste and love your stupid pickups or get scared and leave. Hopefully he’s not the kind to throw a punch.

You sidle up to the bar next to him. No doubt your outfit gets his attention first. It’s not risqué exactly but it’s got flavor, specifically your queer kind of flavor, and it draws the eye the way you wear it. You smile as you look him up and down, enjoying the red flush on his cheeks that trickles down under the collar of his fitted shirt. Wow, Baby is built. You ask the bartender for a couple drinks while part of your buzzing brain throws up red flags. Maybe you should try to land your mouth before it totally takes off but unfortunately for ground control your tongue is flying solo tonight. You get your drink. Pluck off the fruit, take a bite and shout over the music,

“Can I get your name or should I just get you a drink?”

As expected, Baby looks confused as hell but he pastes on a polite, if guarded, smile. “I wouldn’t mind a drink.”

Without missing a beat, you give him the second glass in your hand. There’s something about the way that guarded smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes that makes you want to do something stupid. You want to see him smile and laugh and even though you don’t have the slightest inkling about him, you want to know why such a handsome face would ever look so afraid.

So of course you ask, “How ‘bout a bet then? I make you laugh, you tell me your name?”

He makes a considering face and takes a long sip. “Bet.”

“What do you call the sexuality where you’re attracted to people by no one is attracted to you?”

“What?”

Very off key and with all the drama you can muster, you sing, “Allll Biiiii Myseeeelf.”

Baby snorts a laugh in his drink, which you didn’t expect, and a little warmth grows in your stomach. His faux smile is turning to a real grin. Albeit still a confused one but delighted all the same and he shoots back, “So that’s you, huh? By yourself?”

You wince theatrically and shake your head.

“Ouch, Baby’s got teeth! You got me.”

“Nah, what you get’s a name.” He holds out his hand and you groan internally at the length and breadth of it as you shake. “Benny.”

Just like that Baby becomes Benny and you’re absolutely smitten. You give him your name. Maybe your fingers linger. You want to get him another drink. You want to tell him another joke. Hell, you want to take him home and stuff him full of food in the morning. He giggles a bit and it’s endearing enough you decide to press your luck.

“How ‘bout this one? What’s the best N’Sync song?”

It’s not a fair question, dude might not have ever even heard a boy band in his life, so it takes you by surprise when he immediately pops back with a drawling version of, “It’s tearin’ up my heart when I’m with you?”

“Ooo, a little romantic! I see you!” you tease, pinching his thick bicep for just an instant. Because really, any longer than that and you’d melt.

Benny doesn’t pull away like you were waiting for him to do. Instead he ducks his head, more than booze burning his cheeks, and—ah, hell.

“That one is killer,” you admit, “but I was thinking of the one where they sing ‘Bye Bye Bye’ while we blow outta here for dinner?”

It’s a stupid line—one of the worst you’ve ever come up with—and it comes out more like a question than a joke. You throw back the rest of your drink to hide the look on Benny’s face but to your delight, he says,

“Wait, really?”

“Well yeah.” You lean against the bar next to him, trying and failing to be nonchalant and you shrug. “I’m hungry and even though you’re a Grade A snack I don’t think you’d appreciate me taking a bite. So how ‘bout dinner?”

Benny finishes his drink all at once. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands. You sigh to yourself—this is the part where he walks off and you go get dinner alone, you suppose. But then he grins, like really grins, and offers you his arm to hold and suddenly your knees are jello shots.

“I could go for a bite.”

So you go for dinner. Text your friends, of course. But mosey down the street for 12AM tacos and end up laughing with Benny, shoulder to shoulder on the curb until your friends call for a ride.

And even though you didn’t get to take him home and feed him in the morning, your phone still dings through your snooze with a message under Benny’s name that reads:

What did the barista say to his crush?

I like you a latte. :)

Coffee later?

The warmth in your stomach from the night before blooms again and you laugh into your pillow before you text back:

Love to!

#benny miller x reader #benny miller x gn!reader #benny miller x you #triple frontier #well here we are again

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aster-aspera · 3 years ago

Photo

One place to fall

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Can’t go home

Relationship: Jon/Martin/Tim/Sasha

Warnings: food, Jon just generally being a bit sad? Idk, if there’s something you want tagged, feel free to tell me

Masterlist

If you liked it, please reblog

Jon woke up that morning with a strangled gasp, the afterimage of his dreams still burned into the back of his eyelids, keeping him from falling back to sleep. He rolled over, expecting to find the comforting warmth of one of his partners to keep him company in the lonely hours of an early day. Instead, what greeted him was the cold grey wall of Georgie’s guest room. It didn’t take long after that for the memories to flow back.

Three days. He really should stop expecting them to be here at this point.

They’re not here, they can’t be here, and he can’t go home, not for a long while, not till the police stop suspecting him for a murder he didn’t commit.

He sighed, rolling over onto his back when aches started running up his side. He stared up at the off-white popcorn ceiling, trying not to think of how Tim was probably sprawled out over Martin and Sasha, stealing most of the blankets and driving his sharp elbows into their sides. He tried not to miss Sasha’s warmth against his side and the sound of Martin’s soft snores. He always used to complain about their sleeping arrangements, but now he would do anything to be back in that bed.

He groaned and rolled over a few more times, trying in vain to find a position that was comfortable enough to attempt sleep again, not that that would go very well, with the nightmares plaguing him as soon as he closed his eyes.

Eventually, he conceded and got out of bed, grabbing his cane from the wall and taking a moment to work the stiffness out of his limbs. He limped into the kitchen and smiled at the Admiral when he raised his head sleepily. He wondered if he could convince the others to get a cat when he got home. If he ever got home.

The smile slipped off his face and he turned to open the curtains, letting in the greyish light of an early dawn. The Admiral mewled plaintively at his feet, pushing against him. He bent down carefully to run his fingers along the cat’s back, closing his eyes for a moment and just letting the feeling ground him.

He straightened and made his way over to the cramped kitchen, intent on making himself a small breakfast to keep him company whilst he waited for the world to wake up. He reached towards the cabinet over the sink, and for a moment expected their mismatched collection of mugs with ridiculous quotes and terrible puns. He shouldn’t have felt the disappointment he did when instead it was just a shelf of plain white cups.

He shut the cabinet door a little more forcefully than strictly necessary, breathing deeply against the sudden swell of emotion in his throat.

In the scope of all that had happened to him, this should have been minor, this should have been fine. It was just Georgie, the person he had used to love, the person he still cared for. And his partners were really just a phone call away.

So why then, did it feel like he was breaking? Why did every little reminder this wasn’t his home tear something apart deep in his gut?

Home had always been his safety net, and now, he had nowhere to fall.

And now he just had to sit here, stare at the blank walls and hope the police would finally realise he hadn’t been the one to kill jurgen Leitner. Every day that hope felt a bit further away.

He opened the group chat he shared with the others. There were no new messages, of course not, none of them were awake yet. Six am was a bit early even for Tim. He scrolled back to their conversation from last night.

A picture of Tim grinning into the camera while a pot bubbles over behind him.

Sasha: Tim’s cooking tonight, send help

Martin: If the house burns down or he poisons us, I want you to know I love you

Jon: I’m sure it won’t come to that.

He scrolls back down to the bottom of the chat, a small smile on his face at the easy conversation of last night. It wasn’t the same as being there with them, but it was a small comfort.

The three dots that signalled someone was typing popped up on his screen and he noted with surprise Sasha was already online.

Sasha: Youre up early

Jon: I could say the same for you.

Sasha: Needed to pee

Jon: Yes, I suppose that makes sense.

Sasha: So what’s your excuse

Jon: My back hurts again.

Sasha: :(

Sasha: And is that the only reason?

Jon: No

Jon: I miss you.

Sasha: Darling

Jon: I’m alright, I just wish I could see you

Jon: In person that is.

Sasha: We could come over?

Jon: I don’t think that’s wise.

Sasha: Yeah, i guess

Sasha: We miss you too

A swarm of emotions bubbled up in Jon’s throat at the words, threatening to spill over in a mess of heartache and sorrow and fear. They press against the bounds of his throat, choking him, filling him with so many feelings he could not even begin to parse them out. He just wanted to go home.

He swallows it down, tucks the whole mess into a corner of his mind and puts down his phone. He doesn’t want to bother Sasha, or any of the others. He’s already put so much on them, dragged them into the fear and confusion that was the archives, he had no right to bother them with more.

And he knew he was just being dramatic, he was a grown man, he should be able to handle being away from home for a while. He just needed to get himself together, focus on the next step.

He picked up a stack of statements from the coffee table, slipping on his glasses and burying himself in the comforting rhythm of paper and pen. At least this was something he still controlled, still knew how to do.

Georgie appeared at some point, giving him a disapproving glance to find him working so early and coraling him into eating breakfast with her. She can’t stay long after that, and both Jon and the Admiral watch her leave with the same forlorn air.

Jon looked up from his work as a heavy knock resounded from the front door. His first thought was that it was Georgie, back from her errands early. But she would just have let herself in, and Jon knew for certain she had her key with her when she left.

And who did that leave? The police? Some avatar coming to settle a score? Gertrude's killer finally come to finish the job?

Every option was bad, and every option would not let a flimsy door stop them. He stood up, walked into the kitchen as calmly as he could with dread and paranoia hanging over him like a dark cloud and grabbed the largest knife he could find. The knock came again, and he could hear indistinct whispering from behind the door.

Multiple people then. That wasn’t good for his chances. He gripped the knife just a little bit tighter.

“Hey boss, open up,” came a familiar voice, one he used to hear rough and sleepy in the mornings and soft and loving in the evenings. His heart brightened in a momentary thrill at the thought of his partners, or at least, one of them, being on the other side of that door, so close to him again after all those days without them. And all he had to do was open up that door and pull them into his arms once more.

That thrill was almost immediately dampened again as he realized they should not be here. It was why he had left in the first place. They were too connected to him, too wrapped up in his messy web of conspiracy and paranoia. If the police saw them here, if Elias saw them here, they would be leading all of it right to Georgie’s doorstep.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” He told the door and tried not to think of the warm hands behind it.

“We’re not supposed to do a lot of things,” Came Sasha’s amused voice.

“Like date each other,” Tim filled in, “But here we are, so you going to let us in now?”

“No, the police could find out, and you might get Georgie in trouble and there’s just so many reasons this is a bad idea.”

“Jon please, we’re worried about you, Georgie said you weren’t doing well,” Martin said softly

Jon sat down on the couch heavily, knees protesting from standing up too long. He stared at the door.

“And standing out here is probably a lot more risky than being in the apartment, so best let us in.”

He sighed. You never could argue with Sasha’s logic. The others looked up victoriously when he finally unlocked the door.

“There he is!” Tim crowed, as Sasha and Martin offered him a warm smile while bustling into the apartment, both laden with grocery bags. Sasha pressed a light kiss to his forehead as she passed and he tried not to start crying at the feeling.

“You have to leave,” He said as he shut the door, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Martin and Sasha didn’t look up from where they were unloading piles of vegetables and snacks from their bags.

“What? No, hey guys, I missed you, happy to see you all?” Tim complained as he draped himself over Jon’s back. Jon scowled at him.

“Jon, stop being stubborn, we’ve all been through hell the past few weeks, and right now we just want to be here to keep you company,” Martin said in that firm yet gentle voice of his.

“You really shouldn’t be alone after all that,” Sasha said as she dumped out a tupperware container into a pot.

“I’m not alone,” Jon said grumpily, “I have the Admiral.” Though he had apparently decided to make himself scarce for the time being. Jon cursed him for the betrayal.

“Are you saying you prefer the company of a cat to ours?” Tim asked, pulling them both back onto the couch and settling a blanket over them.

“Maybe,” Jon pouted, burrowing into Tim’s chest despite the fact that he was still upset with them, “He doesn’t uselessly endanger everyone to come give me cuddles.”

“Well we’re here now, and we’re not leaving till you feel better.”

“And admit it, you’re happy we’re here,” Martin said, apparently finishing up with his preparations in the kitchen and curling up next to Jon on the couch.

Jon did not want to admit it, but something warm and content curled up in his stomach, the warm feeling of home returning to his bones. A warm and savoury smell drifted through the room, clearly coming from whatever Sasha was warming up on the stove.

This apartement did not look like home in the slightest, the walls and ceiling all wrong, the furniture hard and uncomfortable and unfamiliar. But with all of them here, and that familiar smell of soup and Tim’s conditioner surrounding him, it wasn’t all that bad.

Sasha sat down on his other side, handing everyone a bowl of soup and giving Jon a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Martin pressed one to his temple and Tim just ruffled his hair fondly.

A few words were exchanged between them, but Jon didn’t bother paying too much attention. He knew he should still be angry, or at least have a firm conversation with them on what they had agreed on. But not now, not when they were here and he was home and for a moment he could forget all about Leitner and the institute and just be safe.

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yanderecandystore · 4 years ago

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aye, Idk if this went thou cuz it Tumblr so: I know you say to hold request like this but I wanted to ask for when you started. Maybe a yandere Imposter with a s/o who is a medic for the ship. (It a weird hc that everyone has a job on the ship) So it time for check up other med stuff. The imposter knows that the check up/computer will out them for being an imposter but it a chance to finally be alone with its 's/o'

Oh boo, what I meant about holding asks was that I was holding an anon's ask in the ask box about Yandere Among Us so that I could remember myself to write about it.

You see, a lot of people asked for it so I decided to leave this one ask about it so I could answer it later when I had the proper chapter finished.

It's not that you guys in particular need to hold your asks about Among Us, you can send them! What I tried to do was try to send a message towards the people that wanted to see more of it, that I would be doing more about it really soon.

Also, this is a gorgeous ask! I absolutely love this headcanon. I love the idea of everyone having a particular role, but also being able to do multiple tasks as the whole spaceship is destroyed-

In my Among Us fanfiction, the role of medic is played by the crewmate White, but of course the darling can be a medic in this headcanon!

Also I'll leave the color of the imposter random and out for your imagination in this headcanon, because why not?

TW/Tags: y'all mind if I went a little more… risky? 👀 Cause I think the imposter would be happy to get some "special examination" by their darling- (slight nsfw ish? At the end??) // not accurate to the game but whatevs // yes, I'm tired and therefore mumbling nonsense! // some hard simping coming from the imposter //

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Med-bae 👀 [Yandere!Among Us x Medic!Reader - Headcanon]:

So. This was a terrible idea. You know, when you said "follow me, I'll show you something cool!" they were expecting something more, well, fun?

This is not only not fun, but can also compromise their whole plan. You brought them to medbay to show them not only your favorite tech but to also convince them to let you check them out.

They were the only ones that haven't done any check ups and you needed to collect data from everyone and send it to the facility, ya know, to let them know that you're all safe in this unsafe spaceship.

"- Come on, we need to tell your family that you're healthy!"

"- I could just call them ya know?!" You two scream at each other as they're trying to hold themselves in the wall while you try to pull them inside your workplace.

Well, it could be worse, now that they think about it. There is no one here so…

"- Take off your suit and seat over there." You tell them while pointing at the examination table - "- I'll go pick some equipment, don't worry okay? It's just another checkup."

You tried to make them feel more relaxed by saying that, but they couldn't help but fear their inevitable demise. While you're gone they at least have enough time to change themselves to look more human.

Or at least to come up with something if you ever find out they aren't really the person you thought they were. Oh well, at least they can indulge themselves in the heavy amount of scent lingering around this room, it seems you have spent a lot of time here. In some weird way, this place does fit you a lot, maybe is their mind being easily infatuated by you, but the smallest of decorations or clues of you being here, like: a coat you forgot to pick up, some paperwork covered in stickers, a photo of you and what they presume to be your family.

They wonder if you miss the Earth as much as your entire crew. I mean, that would be unfortunate for them, how would they be able to accompany you back to your home? Wouldn't you prefer to stay here with them? Looking at the stars, with a long life supply of resources for a small family. It doesn't sound so bad right?

Yeah, of course it doesn't sound so bad, the only problem is that there are way, way too many people in this place! All of your crewmates take way too much of your attention and time, that is so unfair-

"- I'm back! Sorry for keeping you waiting." You said while entering the medbay in a hurry. Oh look, their anxiety has also returned! Oh goodie.

"- So, I'll do a couple physical checks and just make a couple of questions, and then I'll let you free okay?" You joke about it, no one really likes to do this, you know that, but come on! It's so simple and easy, and it's just to make sure everyone is doing fine.

"- How has it been this couple of days?" You ask coming towards them.

"- F-Fine I guess. Nothing really special, just the usual." The closer you get the hardest it is to control their heart. This is ridiculous, why does their body act like this at such a crucial moment? And why do I need to be so close in the first place!?!

You make their brains turn into mush.

"- I know this is going to sound cliche, but have you been eating healthy lately?" Oh my, their skin feels hot, maybe you should pick a thermometer! Hopefully they don't have a fever.

"- Yes, I think so." Well, would you consider eating your friends healthy? Probably not. They probably shouldn't say that out loud.

The checkup continues as "normally" as every checkup. Asking if they felt anything, if they have been staying active and eating the healthy options on board, and if they were having a generally pleasant week aboard.

Of course you probably won't notice how their face flush every time you touch or simply crush your fingers on their body, like I said, this is probably harder than any emergency meeting. Trying to keep themselves from creeping you out and from snatching you right there and then. Too close for your own safety yet too distant for their comfort.

It doesn't help that you question all the little oddities happening to their body. Why are they so hot? Why are they sweating so much? Why are they shaking so much? Are they feeling sick? Are they hurt?

No, no, no, no and no, dearest! All of these things are normal for them. That's their normal body temperature.

Oh yeah, and the shaking and sweating is just nervousness. This moment is so perfect, dearest.

Is absolutely perfect, no one can interfere. No one can stop them from being the center of your attention. No one can enter this room for now.

Of course, after so much "teasing" they couldn't control the soft purring emerging from their throats. I mean, honestly you weren't doing much? You're just so close and touchy that it was starting to provoke a new type of hunger inside them.

"- Did you… Did you just... Purr…??" You stepped back, they were acting quite strange throughout the entire checkup, but you thought they were simply shy about this.

' What the hell was going on? Why did they look like that? Why was their expression suddenly so malicious?' You thought.

Well dearest-

What would happen if… Well, the doors suddenly decided to not open? If these sound proof walls suddenly became useful for once?

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

I don't why I had such a hard time writing this, I think I might have adhd-

Or maybe I just really like procrastinating, idk lol

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere headcanon #yandere among us x reader #yandere among us #yandere among us headcanon #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request #aaaaah #yander alien #?#does it count?

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frederickthegreat · 4 years ago

Text

my thoughts on TUA season 2

(spoilers, obviously)

- opened with Klaus and Ben, my kings. Klaus’s hair looks so weird straightened while short

- AWESOME opening soundtrack

- seeing all their powers so controlled makes me wonder how they leveled up to that skill in the alternate timeline. like the only time we saw Klaus use the powers of other ghosts in the correct timeline was when two of them caught him falling out of the sky. however Diego did end up controlling bullets and Allison used her voice to technically kill one of the Swedes

- the homeless man screaming Allison’s name alongside Luther... funny shit

- big teddy bear Hazel

- Elliot was fucking awesome i think he was a great addition as a side character. rip tho :(

- honestly i don’t understand why Diego would WANT to save JFK. like it’s not that big of a deal. does he not understand what messing with the timeline can do??

- Lila... impeccable

- Sissy and Vanya... impeccable <3

- yeah and fuck u Carl

- ugh, Klaus’s beard. disgusting <3

- Ben and Klaus definitely act like they should be, given that they’ve been stuck with each other for over a decade. i’ve seen some people calling Klaus an asshole for not telling his siblings about Ben, which is completely understandable (cause he was an asshole), but I’m guessing it was because he was afraid? that sharing Ben with his siblings would mean that he would lose him to them, or his siblings would find him selfish, or they would ask something of him that he couldn’t give. if that makes sense

- that ghost bitch comment was funny tho

- to the guy who called Klaus pretty boy at the bar: sir you don’t know what you’re getting into

- Raymond!! he’s such a sweetheart, i really liked him in the show. i’m really happy that Allison has found a bit of normalcy (as normal as the 1960s Civil Rights movement could be). it shows how passionate she is about what she believes in: even though she knows the movement is far from over, even back in 2019, she’s not gonna abandon it

- Allison staring at the moon every night: either thinking about Luther or how the moon blows them all up. maybe both

- of course Luther would be working for Jack Ruby

- awesome cinematography during the mental asylum escape

- yeah it makes sense that the Handler would still be alive. she was a cool villain. although it would’ve been awesome to see how evil a fish could be

- Diego’s plan was pretty stupid. that’s my boy

- honestly they revealed how Klaus started a cult really well by having one of his followers find him at jail. Klaus, ever the musical aficionado, of course writes his scripture based off of pop songs

- Raymond and Klaus meeting!! that was cool to see how their paths connected

- Lila painting Elliot’s toenails green. ugh i love that crazy bitch

- i LOVE how they incorporated the umbrella man!! tbh i’ve always believed he was the one behind the assassination. Lee Harvey Oswald was framed

- honestly a bit understandable that Luther was planning on killing Vanya? cause he had no idea who she is now, but them reuniting was actually really sweet. he’s grown up so much

- the Swedes and their cats.

- the Umbrella company building with the nuclear family mannequins... creepy, awesome shit

- baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo baby pogo

- shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego shanked diego

- did anyone else get vibes from Klaus’s episode opening that he was an escort to the old woman? like how he was being shown off at her arm or something and getting out of jail from a call from the governor. idk maybe the lady was just very taken with him, as anyone would be

- Elliot, our helpful king

- Allison and Klaus’s reunion was so sweet!! i’m so glad they got to interact so much more in this season

- Ben getting Raymond out through a haunting... hilarious

- sweet intimate moment between Lila and Diego

- Ray meeting Luther was hilarious, but i do feel for the poor guy. i mean i’m not in love with my adoptive sister but still

- the sit-in was really well done and beautiful while terrible. the ‘riot’ that ensued was very appropriate for today’s setting

- D-Dave

- honestly i was scared that Klaus was gonna be overly attracted to him or whatever, which would be weird cause he’s years younger than Klaus, but honestly, at the core he just wanted to save Dave’s life. even if it means never meeting him in a different timeline. he truly loved Dave. and that ptsd flashback was done so well

- i knew Lila wasn’t trustworthy but i didn’t REALLY expect that!

- Vanya and Luther talking with each other, Luther admitting the apocalypse wasn’t all her fault. beautiful

- the Majestic 12 reminds me of the conspiracy theory that only a few families control basically everything in the world. the Majestic 12 may be based off of that, idk

- idk about everyone else but Klaus’s scorpion and the frog story made total sense to me! frogs ARE bitches

- the diner scene.... ugh. it really shows that the two of them did fall in love and they did stupid in love things, like talking about their family, about why Dave wanted to join, favorite colors, favorite foods, etc. however that’s seen later on when Dave visits the compound

- yes it’s very disheartening when Klaus is attacked, but honestly i think it had to happen, just like the riot had to happen. the 60s weren’t a fun time for lgbt people and poc. it was only going to be a matter of time before the show HAD to acknowledge the consequences of Klaus’s ‘flamboyancy’ in 1963 Texas. it doesn’t make it right or easy to see, but it’s realistic.

- it also makes sense that Klaus fell off the wagon after experiencing something like that. yes we all would’ve liked him to stay sober, but sobriety and recovery aren’t linear.

- Allison is so happy with Ray can we please drop this pseudo-incest plotline let’s MOVE ON

- Texas Grace ! who is not actually Grace rip (i think? i was a bit confused lol)

- the scene with Harlan running off was really upsetting but we got to see those weird light particles that we saw in the first season

- Pogo Pogo Pogo Pogo

- Klaus being a dick to Ben again, as brothers do. i do feel bad for Ben though it must be sooo frustrating. that scene with him and Allison was really sweet and funny tho

- i just have to say that Luther and Diego are so fucking funny this season it’s awesome. like there are a LOT of good lines overall by everyone but they’re hilarious. “At least he didn’t shank my ass” “no bro, he shanked your heart”“Dads part of a sinister CABAL that’s plotting on killing the president.” “a caBAL?”“You two still a thing? *leans in* do we need to talk?” “No, she’s married.” “Woah dude... that’s rough.” and countless others

- the sibling reunion!!

- Klaus really does get left out of everything tbh

- Ben :(

- sisters and Klaus!! that was so awesome to see. and Klaus’s hairpins, Vanya saying she’s gonna tell Sissy she loves her, their dance sequence, Klaus calling Allison out on that incest. beautiful

- the fucking Swedish cover of Hello was PERFECT i mean i was sad for the Swedes but it was hilarious. there were a couple beautiful shots of the boat on fire though

- god it must’ve been so traumatizing for Allison to be thrust into such a hostile place with no voice and no way to contact her family

- idk about you guys but long live Team Zero

- calling Ben that he was becoming their father was a bit uncalled for

- the fact that Klaus didn’t help Dave’s chances, and in fact escalated Dave’s own timeline.. his trembling hands... robert sheehan is an amazing actor

- the Black president bit lmaoo loved it

- the way Reginald spoke to Diego.. i’m gonna throw hands with an old man

- Klaus LITERALLY looked like he was having a seizure and they all just... played it off??

- poor, poor Carl. nah fuck him lol

- that bloody opening scene was awesome! and thank god Five got to say fuck. the fact that it was about a candy bar makes too much sense

- Robert Sheehan acting as Ben: amazing showstopping spectacular he’s so talented

- the whole multiple Fives and Luther bit was honestly really funny, and i immensely respect smaller Five over bigger Five.

- yes Klaus, you survived a family of seven. you got this

- not sad about Carl dying one bit!

- Ben... that was such a beautiful scene. not just the content of the scene, but the cinematography. Ben fading away... Vanya hugging him... ugh. the main takeaway i had from that scene is that at the core of it all, Ben and Klaus love each other immensely. they have a weird, dysfunctional, fucked up relationship, where Klaus is an asshole and Ben definitely shouldn’t of possessed him without his consent, but they’re still brothers, and Ben forgives him.

- oof Ben’s funeral was hard. also was it just me or did Klaus’s kid actor sound weird? like it sounded like Robert was dubbing his lines

- all the siblings back together again!!!! Klaus going with Vanya to save Harlan!! Vanya telling him Ben forgives him and that it wasn’t Klaus’s fault Ben got stuck with him!! everyone in the car!!! be still my beating heart

- yeah didn’t see Lila having powers coming tbh. i really feel bad for her she’s had such a rough and traumatic life, especially with the Handler as her only parental figure

- the Swede brother and Five putting down their weapons: “enough.” the Swede wanted revenge for his brothers - an eye for an eye, but there was a mutual understanding between the two of them: they would do anything for their family. if the Swede hurts one of the Hargreeves, Five would never stop coming after him. i thought it was very beautiful

- mmm Reggie’s foreshadowing coming into play. proud of u Five

- the ending was so beautiful. everyone got closure in some type of way. except now Klaus is alone with nothing but his dog tags :(

- EMO BEN HAHAHA WTFFF?? is Lila in the sparrow academy? why was Ben’s portrait over the mantle piece? did Five disappear?? is the sparrow academy just older versions of the siblings who stuck around?? so many questions

FINAL THOUGHTS

- Ellen Page’s acting consistently blows me away. she is amazing

- beautiful cinematography, funny writing, pretty good acting. i didn’t like the soundtrack as much as i did the first season’s, but some of it wasn’t bad.

- i’m glad ben got peace, but i’m also glad justin min isn’t gone for good. his social media presence is too vital for us

- i swear to god if they keep treating klaus as a joke and don’t let him get any actual development like everyone else had (he barely got closure with Dave, he reconciled with Ben through a second party) next season, i’m gonna riot. PLEASE i want to learn more about his powers now that Ben is gone. what happened to seeing tons of ghosts when he’s sober??

- Luther and Diego were probably my favorite duo of the season, I’m so happy that they’ve reconciled and are bonding more.

- just seeing Vanya grow and be happy was amazing

all in all, really wonderful season. i probably liked it better than the first one. now it’s time to consume fanfiction and maybe finish my own (check out “god doesn’t want him and neither does the devil” on ao3!)

#the umbrella academy #tua spoilers #tua season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 spoilers #the umbrella academy season 2 #tua season 2 #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #raymond chestnut #dave katz #diego hargreeves #reginald hargreeves

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

Text

Beelzebub- True Form

Three more boyos to go!

Next up: Leviathan

Beelzebub-

The embodiment of starvation. The sharp contrast between his healthy and fit forms is truly baffling.

Mouths are scattered all over his gangly form. It is the only human thing about him as he is faceless otherwise. When hunting they release a mist or plague of locusts depending if his hunger is physical or emotional

His hunting form is juvenile and frail. Naturally small and unassuming, it is perfect to lure his victims close and ensnare them forever. He attracts souls with an overwhelming hunger. It’s a lure filled with false promises of substances and warm. When close he latches on like a parasite and gorges until there is nothing left but an empty husk.

Once full his form shifts into something- greater- his small body growing and stretching. It’s somewhere along the lines of a human growth spurts, or puberty, but is done in moments. It’s uncomfortable for him; the rapid growth takes a lot out of him.

When fed he is larger, but still skeletal in form. It’s a permanent reminder of his new immortal purpose. His skin is like stone, hard and grey but translucent. It is stretched tight around his frame, like an artist canvas over his jet black bones. The texture of it emphasizes all the odd twists and turns of his bone structure and whatever else lies underneath his flesh.

Each raspy breath he draws from the many mouths scattered around his body rattle his disjointed skeleton. His bones clinking together with every exhale to create a truly chilling symphony.

When crazed with hunger he loses himself. In his younger years as a cardinal sin he was responsible for wiping out land masses and civilizations to try and dull the ache before his brothers could contain him.

His gluttony isn't only for physical sources of substances. Slabs of meat only go so far. He will latch on like a leech, to anything that radiates his current emotional cravings. Love? Happiness? Fear? He wants to experience it all. Filling and cramming every little space with whatever sensations he craves. Till the deadened feeling in his chest is a little less.

There was a time where he was very close with his brother sin greed. During their younger years as demons they would terrorize the mortal realm, a deadly duo. Both unable or unwilling to control their new urges.

He hates this existence. He’s empty and it drives him mad. Was he like this in heaven? Honestly, Beel can’t remember anymore. He doesn’t think so. He had his brothers and sister to keep him in order and a different name. At the time he was called Temperance, right? He thinks. It’s a bit foggy.

But what hurts him the most is that his family structure is fractured now. There is a hole where Lilith used to be, and no amount of souls or food will ever fill that.

When he met you it helped a little. But he has to be weary.

He has better control of his abilities now then a couple centuries ago so you don’t have to worry too much. He likes having you around. It fills part of the void that he’s been struggling with for so long. Being with you makes him feel like dirt has finally hit the bottom of what he thought was a vacuous void inside.

Sometimes his natural abilities seep out when he is hungry or frustrated from another family row. He gravitates towards you then, searching for that odd human comfort demons just don’t possess. He sips slowly on it; with your permission of course. Not the wisest idea- but an idea nonetheless.

Mini Fic

Sleepy Sloth Boi- Hey. Can you check up on Beel? He had a bit of a argument with Asmo today Sleepy Sloth Boi- Apparently he ate a homemade face goop? IDK, it’s stupid. Sleepy Sloth Boi- I would, but I’m stuck in a remedial class with Lucifer Sleepy Sloth Boi- I don’t know when I’ll be out- Ok! Is he in your room?- Sleepy Sloth Boi- No, at the gym. Asmo called him and chewed him out. Didn’t go well. Trainers called me. He busted up some equipment and might have eaten someone... They want him out. Oh... K I’ll head over now-

You frown down at your D.D.D and stuff it in your bag. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. You had heard stories of his terrible temper when hungry. Most of the time you have seen him just mope, huddled up in the kitchen eating his feelings. He was always open to talk though and you usually could convince him out of the kitchen so Lucifer didn’t have an aneurysm over a barren fridge.

The gym isn’t far from the house. A short tram ride and a walk down a couple of familiar streets. You have spent every Saturday morning with Beel there, spotting him. Not that you really could. With the amount of weights he was dead lifting, but he appreciated the company nonetheless. You ring up the front desk dashing across the street. It goes straight to voicemail. Crap it must be bad. You round the corner right before the gym and skid to a halt. Glass and metal litter the cobble street. The shards flicker off the lights of the street lamps drawing your eye to the sheer amount of damage around you. Some equipment even stuck out of the wall adjacent to you.

You make your way closer. “Human! Tis’ not the best time to be here. We are having a bit of an issue.” A terrified trainer scuttled towards you, mandible clicking in alarm. “You best turn back. We don’t need your body littering the streets too.” They wave a three fingered claw back up the street. On cue a weightlifting machine was launched through the remaining window exploding on impact with the road. A few more trainers run out after it, yelling and pushing at each other to get out of the way. A dark black mist bellows out after them.

Well shit.

“I’m actually here to try and help.” You smile down at the tiny demon trying to instill some false confidence in them. You think you could handle this. You didn’t want to call in the cavalry to get him. Knowing Beel, it would only trigger his guilty conscience. “If you could give me a moment.” Ignoring the little creature you creep forward, careful of the broken glass and praying that no more equipment got launched.

“Beel?” You call out peaking your head through the gaping hole on the side of the gym. "Hey, Belphie texted me. Wanna talk about it?” The inside of the gym was dark. Wires hung and sparked dangerously in front of you. A large burst pipe blocked most of your vision. “Beel?” You could hear his loud bone chilling breathing. He was close.

“Careful.” You jump swallowing the curse that threatened to slip out. Beelzebub emerged from the darkness at the back of the gym. His eyeless face locking onto you. “You are close to a line.” His many mouths move in unison. Some rumbling as he spoke, others just drawing in rasping wheezing breaths.

“Thanks.” You jump back onto the street. “You wanna come out? You look a bit cramped.” He was comically too large for the allotted space. His goliath sized body packed into a little sardine can. He rattles for a bit considering. You cock your head to the side looking at the empty street. “Plenty of room out here.” You wave at your sole spectator and give them a small thumbs up. They blink in horror over your shoulder. Eyes locked on the beast emerging.

“I’m sorry.” He drags himself out. Thick steel like claws causing the little trainer hiding behind you to whimper. Beel’s fingers dig into the stone and mortar. Oph- this was going to cost a bit to fix.

“It’s ok big guy-happens to the best of us.” You say casually. Once he was outside he shivers in the cool afternoon air. His bones creak as you approach him. “May I touch you?” You approach hand raised. He never cared if you touched him in his human form. It centered him a lot of the time. He enjoyed the feel of your soft and giving flesh against his smooth hard skin. But this form was slightly more dangerous for you well being.

Beel shakes his head at your movement melding back into the dark hole. His mouths open wide to release a plume of black smoke. The trainer cries out, scurrying back further down the street. You hold your ground however. Chin up definitely, unafraid at what you knew was coming. The thick black vapor coats your skin. It latches on to you and seeps through your pores. You feel him in the back of your mind running through your head, searching for something. You breathe slowly, letting him shuffle through your psyche.

You feel a flush of warmth, a near giddiness that brings an uncontrollable smile to your face before it is gone. Snuffled out like a candle in the wind. A slow chilling tingling begins in all of your extremities as he feeds off your emotions. He pulls at your center, eating away at your mental state. An odd empty ache blooms in your chest, you need to untangle yourself before he bled you dry.

He pulls back then, knowing when he has gone too far. The pallor of his skin is richer now. A darker grey than before. The waxing sheen gone and replaced with a deep purple hue underneath. His cobweb like veins thumping with life. “Thanks~” His rattles remerging onto the street. His oblong head nudges your shoulder, checking on you. You pat at it, careful of the mouths and razor sharp teeth.

“Of course; don’t mention it.” You turn on weak knees to the trainer. Looking at complete ease with the cardinal sin currently wrapping his many limbed and mouthed body around your comparatively tiny frame. “I guess this is not super common?” You ask, waving at the destruction. They shake their head.

“He-he ate Gordin.”

“Ah-ye. He does that. Sorry.” At a loss, they accept the sleek business card you thrust at them with your free hand. “Call Mr. Morningstar. He can work on the repair finances with the manager.”

“But Gordi-” You wince as the little demon’s mandibles tremble, voice getting frantic. Could demons shed tears? You were about to find out.

“Beel?” Cupping his large head you stare at him, eyes traveling over his face. His mouths snap shut, body turning smooth. The only movement from his was his hearts beating steady beneath his translucent skin. He stood still like a statue carved by a deranged artist. “Beel.” You say again more firmly. You step away from his hooked fingers. “Spit them out.”

He doesn’t move. His inner rattling becoming louder and more defensive.

You roll your eyes and look back exasperatedly with a shrug. The other demon stares speechless in terror. Or with the dawning realization of just how absurd this whole situation was. You turn back to Beel, fists balled on your hips. “If you don’t I guess I’m going to eat all these snacks I brought.” The death rattle stops. You could feel his full focus on you now aghast. “I’m serious. Mammon even went and bought those new limited release batwing chips too, extra spicy.”

He hacks suddenly, back arching like a cat as a large seam opens on his skin where his stomach (stomachs?) region was. A bulky demon covered in purple viscous sludge tumbles to the ground with a wet squelch. Their skin was a sickly color and their eyes wide in terror.

“Gordi!” The other trainer pushes past you and grabs at the trembling demon, pulling him away from the hungry mouths.

“Thanks, Beelzebub.” You walk him quickly down the abandoned streets once the two others had fled. He lopes behind you, gaunt body swaying in the light breeze. Once you hit the more crowded streets he moves closer to your back. Other demons on the street give you a wide berth, eyeing and swatting at a few straying arms or fingers that attempt to grab them or their things. You move quickly, hoping to avoid having to scold him again for eating more demons.

“I’m sorry.” Beel croaks once more when you finally come to a stop at an empty park bench. He sits next to it expectantly. The grass and foliage around him weathering and turning to dust at his touch. His arms subconsciously start stuffing the dried grass and flowers into his many mouths.

“It’s ok.” You repeat yourself coming to rest on the park bench. Without preamble you dump the contents of your bag onto the ground. He croons in delight at the mound of snacks being pushed to him. “Eat up. Take a breather and then we can talk. If you want.” With that he dives in.

Beel munches in silence, mismatched limbs unwrapping-or not- the treats and popping them into his little mouths. You watch for a bit before getting preoccupied with a book you borrowed from Satan. You don’t know how much time passes before a boney finger pokes at your forearm. The same arm then hovers by your nose offering you a pudding cup.

“Ah, thank you!” You close your book and take the flan pudding. He had finished most of the food and had calmed considerably. Most of the mouths have disappeared, closing as they were sated. He scoots closer, the oppressive neediness of his sin dulled to an almost non existent thumping in your stomach. Easy enough to ignore, especially now with a sweet treat boosting your mood. “Feeling any better?”

Beel grunts, scratching at his knobby spine. You watch him for a moment. Reading his emotions in this form was hard. Thankfully, you knew the reason for the outburst this time. First time you stumbled upon him like this had been an absolute circus. A terrifying, and destructive circus. He had been in full form that night. Locusts and clawed fingers moving in blurs, swiping at everything that came near. The younger brothers screaming at him over the sounds of breaking furniture and the buzz of insect wings. They dodged around his tantrum trying to calm him before Lucifer returned from a meeting.

“It’s a damned ice cream cup!” Satan roars, close to shifting himself. The tell tale heat of his body starting to radiate out and singe the carpet beneath his feet. Beel screeches back, flies and spittle spraying out over them. Asmo yelps and drags you out of the room with him.

“Ugh! The moment he gets all gross and buggy I’m out.” He shudders, locking the door on the apocalypse happening on the other side. “Hopefully Mammon can slow Lucifer down so they can neaten up.”

“Is he going to be ok?” You look back watching the solid door shudder under the weight of a body being thrown.

Asmodues sucks his teeth dismissively, bright nails clicking away at his phone. You glance at it seeing that he had messaged Mammon to bring some take out too. “Oh ye, this happens from time to time. He just has to let off some steam. Then we can stuff him with food and he’ll be right as rain. You want anything hun’?” You shake your head stunned by his carefree attitude as the house shook around them.

Beel had come to apologize for his behavior later that night. His human form a little banged up, but no worse for wear. You went out for ice cream in hopes to cheer him up. Offering an ear too if he needed an outsider's perspective. You were also curious about his true nature and had a thousand and one questions to ask. He was apprehensive at first. It was clearly a sore subject for him. But over time he opened up, speaking freely about his struggles and fears of destroying his family's already shaky foundation with his gluttony.

“Asmo is furious with me.” He sighs, bringing you back to the present. He rests his head on your shoulder, careful with his weight.

“He’ll get over it.” You stroke his cool skin tapping at a closed mouth. It opens and licks your finger. It was as close to a kiss as this form could get to. “It’s not like he can’t make more.” Beel huffs, rubbing his head into the soft fabric of your sweater.

“I am nothing but a burden to them aren’t I.”

“Never.” You don’t hesitate. He grumbles unconvinced. “Hey,” You nudge him off your shoulder to look at him. “Remember last Saturday? How you helped Levi get his limited edition statue?”

“I just stood in a line.” He pouts. “And I only did that because I ate his Ruri-chan mochi’s.” Oh- you didn’t know that part.

“Well, I still think you’re a good brother.” You cover. “ Tell me, would any of the others do the same? You beat yourself up over every little mistake. How many times has Asmo or Mammon swiped one of your snacks?” He hums contemplatively, nails clacking on the concrete.

“But I always lash out when they do that.” You nod kicking your feet up to lounge on the bench, back resting against his. Grabbing at a set of arms you wrap them around your waist playing with the fingers that weren’t razor sharp.

“Yes, and? Asmo just did too. Runs in the family by the looks of it.” You chuckle. “ So why should you be the only one not allowed to get upset? But next time call before rampaging through the city, K?” You smile up at his monstrous visage. He smiles back hesitantly before coming closer.

Beelzebub nips you gently with his primary mouth. Large fangs careful not to break the skin. A cute little display of gratitude. He tastes your sincerity on you. Sweet and smooth on his tongue. “Thanks,” He rumbles. Cradling you close, he rises to his full height. “I think I’m ready to head back now.”

You snuggle into his unyielding body checking your wrist watch. “Yeah big guy? Guess it is almost dinner time.”

He picks up the pace.

#Obey me beelzebub #obey me fandom #obey me headcanons

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drwcn · 4 years ago

Note

... You know, I was just thinking about Hua Mulan ChengQing AU. Hahah, ha. This movie is SOMETHING. Handkerchiefs are necessary.

oh I HEARD? but idk if i wanna see it. I’ve seen other things Liu Yifei (Mulan) was in and i don’t really like her?

NOTE: OKAY so there were some confusion!!! Before ppl get offended, anon and I are taking about two different movies. The one that anon is saying is good is Mulan (2009) an original Chinese movie BC I had been asking ppl where to watch it and received many inbox msgs about it. The Disney film is what I won't be watching for so many reasons, including bc I know the actress's work and is just unimpressed by her in general on top of all the other reasons.

Oh boy, but like...what IF it’s reverse!Mulan, aka matriarchal society. Where Jiang Cheng is the “sneak into the army for my family c”!Mulan and Wen Qing is the “I wanted to be a doctor but then the Fire Nation exploded in on itself”!Shang. And I worldbuilded for no reason...

tw: minor character death (suicide). un-beta-ed, unedited, unproof-read, we die like nmj

WEN QING

Wen Ruohan was never supposed to be the Emperor, Wen Qing’s mother once told her, but the imperial court had allowed him to inherit because his late Empress Mother had no daughters to inherit the throne. As long as WRH promised to father daughters and pass on through them, then the Wen dynasty legacy would be preserved.

“What did his wife say, that her children must take his last name?” Wen Qing had asked her mother, wide eyed and curious. Her mother had shrugged and said, “Well some women don’t mind, I guess, especially if it meant her children would be heiress of the throne.”

Wen Qing had frowned at that. What’s so bad about children taking their father’s name, she wondered. Men may not be allowed the same liberties as women, may not attend public school or join the army or hold court with the Empress, but they were still children’s parents. Not all women agreed on this of course, but that was the way of their world.

Her father died of consumption some years after Wen Ning was born, but Mother never took a second husband or a concubine. Wen Qing liked that about her mother. Brave, loyal, true.

Wen Qing’s mother, Dafan-junwang, a distant relation to the throne, was a renowned marshal, hailing from a proud line of generals and marshals, trusted by the Wen imperial family as protectors of the realm, without fear of usurpation. The people whispered that Wen Qing had much to live up to, if she were to inherit her mother’s duchy and hold a command of her own.

Wen Qing never had much interest in war or martial arts, but she learned, trained, practiced and perfected her skills because she could never bear the thought of letting her mother down. In her heart (and in her free time), she learned the science and art known by father. He was a quiet man, a physician (quite skilled too), before he married her mother. He wasn’t what her grandparents would have wanted for their daughter, but Mother had been adamant.

Wen Qing’s mother hadn’t been good at expressing her love, but she did love her husband. Very much. Mother was only ever soft around Father, and Wen Qing only knew this because she’d seen them hold hands when they thought no one was watching.

Wen Ning, being the son of a wealthy aristocratic family, was destined to marry well when he came of age. Unlike girls, boys weren’t allowed to attend publicly funded scholarly schools or martial academies. Wealthy and noble families however were able to afford private tutors for their sons, so that they would know the four arts (play the qin, weiqi, literature, and art) and be elegant, competent husbands for their wives. If Wen Ning was competent enough, charming enough, and gave his wife daughters (because everyone knew it’s the men who control the sex of the baby), then she would be faithful to him -> at least that’s what their nanny said.

“How did they know, that men determined the sex of the baby?” Wen Qing asked her mother one evening when she turned thirteen and was given The Talk.

Her mother tilted her head and said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “My dear, women are the earth, we grow and birth life. Men are like the seeds. If you plant an apricot tree, the earth will nourish it and let it flourish, but the fruit will always be apricots, you will never have peaches.”

Once, Wen Qing had asked her mother if she could be a physician instead, if Wen Ning could take her place as general. Her mother had given her a very stern look and said, “No only is your brother of a sickly disposition, but you are my daughter. The duchy and my command can only be inherited by you. For your country, you do not have a choice.”

Wen Qing conceded, because she was good.

The days dragged on, and slowly it was becoming clear Wen Ruohan would have no daughters. Not only so, the sons he fathered were ill-mannered and haughty, unfit to rule. Wen Ruohan’s mind, too, was slowly leaving him, due to unknown reasons. The ministers of the court and notabilities of the peerage urged Wen Ruohan to take on the daughter of his cousin born of his maternal aunt, and to groom her as heir. This brought on much discontent from Wen Roohan’s two princes, who aligned themselves with lurking enemies from the north, and before anyone could mitigate the situation, the country was thrust into a full blown civil war.

Every bit her mother’s daughter, Wen Qing did not hesitate to mount her horse and ride off into battle. She had her duties and she would serve until her death.

Jiang Wanyin had a very pretty face - she would reflect in retrospect. Perhaps that was why she believed him when he showed up at her camp with a conscription missive claiming to be his older sister Jiang Yanli.

JIANG CHENG

The Jiang family was a wealthy merchant family situated southeast of the capital, in the province of Yunmeng. The current head of family is Jiang Ziyuan, known for her sharp business mind and sharp ways with her sword.

(the only reason i’m switching Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan’s last name is because it’s a matriarchal society, and Yu Cheng and Yu Yanli sounds way too awful as names, but Yu Fengmian and Jiang Ziyuan are actually not bad.)

There was a rumour that her husband Yu Fengmian of a Meishan Yu clan, had betrayed her with a wandering traveler from the pugilist world named Cangse...something something, and that he had fathered a son with her out of wedlock. If it were true, then by the conventions of the land, Jiang Ziyuan would have every legal right to divorce Yu Fengmian and send him back to his family to live out the rest of his days in seclusion, shame and repentance.

But when Yu Fengmian came to her with the little Wei Ying, freshly orphaned, Yu Ziyuan turned the boy this way and that, examined him for “abnormalities” and nodded. Then she summoned her son, and said to him, “Our manor purchased some new indentured servants. This boys is yours from now on, he is your responsibility. Keep him in line, find some uses for him, or get rid of him.”

Jiang Cheng looked to his big sister, but his sister just shook her head. Not quite understanding what was happening, or why his father was bowed down on the floor, Jiang Cheng took his new “servant” and left.

Watching them go, Jiang Yanli then turned to her mother and said, “Muqin, if I may be so bold, I have an idea.”

Jiang Yanli was not the heiress that Jiang Ziyuan had hoped for. Though incredibly intelligent, Jiang Yanli was of poor health and not suited for martial training. Jiang Ziyuan had been quite troubled by this for some time, fearing others would cause trouble once Jiang Yanli inherits. However, she was also hesitant to train her son Jiang Cheng, even though he showed both interest and aptitude. It was not often that well to do families would want to take on a too “rambunctious” boy as groom for their daughters. Yet to leave Jiang Yanli without close protection...

“Are you thinking that boy...”

Jiang Yanli nodded. “Father denies being Wei Ying’s paternal parent, but surely tongues will waggle regardless. Mother, you are within your right to dismiss father, but he is still my father, and if not for me, think of A-Cheng. One day he will marry, and what family would want a son with a disgraced sire. Wei Ying looks healthy and strong; as I am unfortunately unable to train with the sword, mother may yet train him. Surely you’re not worried about his future marriage prospects. Perhaps it is better yet that he never marries, for he will remain close to Lotus Pier and serve at my side.”

Jiang Ziyuan listened to Jiang Yanli’s words and decided that her daughter made very valid points. Her relationship with her husband could never be repaired but she had her children’s future to consider.

And yet happiness would not last for long. Two months after Jiang Yanli’s sixteenth’s birthday, she received news that her mother’s private boat, which she used to inspect her properties, had capsized in a terrible monsoon storm, killing everyone on board.

After the news reached Lotus Pier, Yu Fengmian took his own life in the dead of night, leaving a letter stating that he had owed Jiang Ziyuan too much to repay, that though Wei Ying was not his son, he had kept secrets from her that he swore he would not reveal in this life. Now that she’s gone, he would keep her company in her journey to the beyond.

The Jiangs mourned, but they survived.

Then when the boys turned seventeen, war broke out over the lands, and the conscription missives arrived demanding one female from every household. Jiang Cheng panicked. Wei Wuxian had been sent to Gusu on business and would not return for some time. The military missive was time sensitive, so Jiang Cheng didn’t have another choice...besides it’s not like A-Jie’s matchmaking attempts for him had been all that successful...he was next to blacklisted anyway after his last debacle with the Qin girl.

Jiang Cheng decided that he could pass as a woman if he dressed properly and redid his hair, but his voice...he'd just have to pretend he could not speak. That way, no one would know.

WQ: “Who are you?”

JC *hands her his letter*

WQ: “Jiang Yanli? The Yunmeng Jiangs? Of Lotus Pier?”

JC: *nods*

Her subordinate, “I didn’t know Jiang Ziyuan’s daughter was mute, they only said she was of poor health.”

Luo “Mianmian” Qingyang finds out first.

Mianmian: *GASP and points* You’re a man!

JC: *covers his body* SHH!!! Turn around! Don’t look at me! *turns to look away*

Mianmian: *naked by the river ready for a bath but too shocked to move* but, but, but, how?? How did we not know????

JC: Mianmian - no- Lt. Luo, please don’t tell the Young Marshal! Please, I only came so my sister wouldn’t have to -

MM: Cowardice! It is every woman’s sworn duty to -

JC: My sister is of very delicate health. She won’t survive! She’s my late mother’s only daughter, if she dies... I’m expendable. I don’t mind being cannon fodder, please don’t report me.

JC shivering in the snow. “You said you trust Yanli! Why should Wanyin be any different?!”

WQ stood impassively over him with a sword at his neck. Then, she closed her eyes and turned away. “A life for a life. My debt is paid.”

---

JYL: *Proud* “A-Cheng helped secure the future of our nation. The adopted young crown princess was too young to rule without a loyal regent, and Wen Ruohan’s sons colluded with outside forces...it would have been chaos. Millions would have died.”

WWX *teasing* “Sure he brought home a sword, if you ask me he should’ve brought home a wife!”

---

JC, “W-would you like to stay for dinner - ”

WWX: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

JC: Wei Wuxian! She’s regent now, be respectful!”

WQ: Dinner...sounds lovely.

#cql #the untamed #chengqing #wen qing #jiang cheng #corie fics #Anonymous #corie replies #cql ideas

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imaginedxlan · 4 years ago

Text

Champagne & Shackles; Beta Part Two (Fred Weasley)

a/n: i’m SORRY i’m terrible at time management, school is kicking me ass. i had no idea so many of you had the same affinity for the brothers of the beta fraternity as i do, this is for all my frat rats out there i love you most. this is an ode to my very favorite date party theme: champagne and shackles. in which you and you’re chad or brad of a date are candcuffed together until you finish a massive bottle of champagne between the two of you.

weeks after the infamous beta darty, you can’t seem to pull your thoughts or presence away from the ginger boy who made your heart skip a beat. That is, until you’re invited to the beta champagne and shackled date party.

y/f/n: your friend’s name

warnings: cussing, alcohol, mentions of sex, modern!fred, and also very typical frat boy lingo stolen straight from the mouths of frat boy i associate myself with

disclaimer: while they’re semi-drunk in this they’re still coherent and stable enough to know what they’re doing. nothing that happens in this is coercive or decided under an incapacitated mind. king freddie would never take advantage of a girl like that.

part one

consumed.

You have been completely consumed with the the thought of a certain red head for weeks now. Since you kissed him goodbye on your front lawn, the image of Fred Weasley has yet to leave your brain. While you’ve been at the same school for almost two years, you’ve seen him more in the few weeks following the beta darty than you have in the 18 months you’ve spent on campus. Lines in coffee shops, the terrace at the union, the corners of the library you’ve inhabited for years. He’s everywhere. Not that you’re complaining.

The grin that plays across his lips every time you catch his eye sends your heart into overdrive. You’ve spent countless nights awake in y/f/n’s bed analysing every text, every snapchat, every story. You replay the day in the beta backyard at least once a day, yearning for the feeling of his touch on your skin. You’ve hardly returned to the brick-faced mansion, however. You’ve of course been invited through Draco and the countless group messages that flood your phone the nights leading up to a beta party, but you want him to invite you. You want him to want you there.

Of course he wants you there. He spends hours in that filthy basement he calls home every weekend searching for you among the dozens of drunk girls, hoping you had decided to turn up this time. But you’re not there.

Y/f/n mentioned date party to you this past weekend. Draco being social chair of the fraternity, he’s been planning the function for weeks. Champagne and Shackles. A fan favorite among every sorority girl throughout the school. Mixing together handcuffs and a massive bottle of champagne would have nearly anyone begging for an invite. You decide not to get your hopes up, constantly reminding yourself that while he is the boy that made you feel like you were the only two people in the world while you were surrounded by hundreds of drunk college boys, he’s still a twenty year old beta boy. It’s hard to stray from the hook up culture that he’s been practically bred into. Nevertheless, there is still a glimmer of hope in you that you’ll be cuffed to him this Saturday night instead of another girl he’s probably found on greek row.

He’s been drafting this text in the notes app of his phone for three days now. He’s changed the wording, the punctuation and the amount of details in his intended invite to you one hundred times now. George and Oliver groan every time he stops their studying or game of Call of Duty to read them the revised text he’s come up with this time.

“My god, Weasley, you’re acting like you’re writing your vows.” Oliver jokes, setting his xbox controller down on the makeshift coffee table in the twins room. “Just send it, you know she’ll say yes.”

But that’s the problem, he doesn’t know that.

“Wood we’ve thrown six times in the past month, she’s come once.” Fred reminds him of the painful fact that it seems like you’re just not that into him. “If I was sure she was gonna say yes I would have done it by now.”

George snatches his twin’s phone from his hands, copying the now final draft of this overly thought out text asking you to his date party. Before Fred can spring up from his bed, George has already got the message pasted into Fred’s text chain with you and hit send, making the color drain from his twin’s face.

“Are you fucking serious, George.” Fred finally reaches his younger brother and tackles him to the ground. “I barely read through it she’s gonna think I’m a fucking weirdo.”

George is able to shake his brother off of him, bursting out laughing with Oliver at Fred’s crazed state. George knew Fred had feelings for you, well practically every who spoke to a drunk him for more that ten minutes knew, but it was still comical to see his twin get so worked up over a girl he hadn’t even slept with yet.

“Fred you’ve been reading the stupid thing for an hour now,” He points out, Oliver nods his head in agreement. “What’s the worst that could happen? Huh? She says no and you ask one of the eight hundred other girls who fawn over you every chance they get. I know you like her Freddie but this isn’t a life or death thing.”

As Fred caught his breath from his outburst, he knew George had a point. He wouldn’t drop dead if you rejected his offer, but it sure help like he would.

hey idk if you’ve heard but our date party is this saturday and i was wondering if you would want to come

Your phone lights up just as you sit down to eat dinner with a couple of your friends. Once you see the name fred weasley next to the notification your heart stops. Taking y/f/n’s hand in yours, you turn the screen so she can read it. Her lips turn up in a grin as she squeezes your hand.

“I told you he would ask you,” She squeals, shaking her shoulders in her little ‘happy dance’ as she likes to put it. “Draco won’t stop talking about how tweaked Weasley’s been over some stupid text. I knew it was about you, I just knew it.”

You laugh at her imitation of her boyfriend, knowing it’s not far off from how he actually sounds. You reread the text probably thirty times, feeling even more giddy over such a simple and honestly not very personal text, but you don’t care. He asked you.

You spend far less time crafting a response than Fred did writing the initial text to you. If what y/f/n said is true and he really mulled over this for days, you may pass out.

i’d love to :)

The love seemed a bit overboard in your opinion, but y/f/n convinced you that it was a perfect response. You didn’t allow yourself to start looking for possible dress options until he really asked you, afraid you might jinx it if you bought a dress prematurely. Now, however, you’re on a time crunch. Someone in the house had to have something you could borrow. That night you try on at least ten dresses, all the girls on your floor flooding your room gushing over the fact that the Fred Weasley is taking you to his date party. He’s someone nearly everyone knows, and if they didn’t they were probably a geed, or lived in sophomore slums.

You finally land on a dark blue, spaghetti strapped sequin dress that clung tight to your curves. While nearly every dress you tried on felt like it might work, this is champagne and shackles after all, you have to dress to impress. Y/f/n won’t stop talking about what Fred will do the minute he sees you in the dress, praying she gets to watch his jaw drop. The two of you stay up late into the night again mushing over the thought of the two of you being swept off your feet by beta boys, the same boys you could hardly think about a month ago without becoming nauseous.

pregames at the house, malfoy and i will come by yours to grab you and y/f/n at 6:30

The text comes in Friday night. You can hardly contain the bubbling feeling in your stomach. As much as you feel like you’re sixteen years old again, you don’t care. You’ve finally joined the ninety percent of girls on greek row in one category, you’re crushing on Fred Weasley.

As the day finally rolls around, Fred is surprisingly back to his calm and collected demeanor. As much as the boys, and to be honest he himself, expected him to be bouncing off the walls over a slew of what if’s regarding the night ahead of him, he was rather calm about it all. He’s one half of the coveted Weasley Twins after all, he has a reputation to uphold.

The same cannot be said for you. As you curl your hair and apply your makeup to perfection, you can’t stop your knee from bouncing under the vanity counter you’re sat in front of. What if he secretly thinks you look bad in your dress? That you look like you tried to hard? As much as y/f/n tried to remind you of the fact that he was the one nervous about asking you, nothing seems to ease your growing anxiety. The hours tick closer to six-thirty and you sit patiently on your bed, completely ready and aimlessly scrolling through your socials to keep your mind off of the fact that in only twenty minutes Fred and Draco would be at your door to take you back to beta. The actual date party would be at one of the satellite houses, the penthouse of a nearby apartment paid for by betas massive budget.

Y/f/n takes your hand and forces you to look at her.

“Y/n,” She begins, now holding both of your hands between hers. “You are the hottest bitch this campus has ever seen. No one, not even Fred Weasley, deserves to be blessed with the absolute vision you are right now, but I guess he’ll have to do.”

You laugh at her attempt to hype you up in ten hopes that the knots in your stomach fade away. They partially do, but part of you is still in shambles over the thought of seeing him. He probably looks like even more of a greek god in a suit. Y/f/n’s phone buzzes with an ever so poetic ‘here’ text from her boyfriend and she gives your hands one more squeeze before dragging you down the staircase of your house. The boys are waiting just beyond the lawn, the same one you kissed Fred on weeks ago. The two of them have their hands in their pockets, looking like they’re deep in conversation, not even noticing that you and y/f/n are standing walking toward them.

He’s wearing a dark gray suit with a white button down with the top three buttons undone. His hair is perfectly messy. You didn’t even think it was possible for him to get any hotter, but here he is.

The boys turn their heads and immediately stop their conversation. The blonde’s face turns up in a smirk as his eyes trail over y/f/n’s body, but Fred is standing perfectly still with his mouth slightly agape as he watches you come closer to him. His cool and collected affect quickly runs out of his body as he watches your dress glitter under the street light.

“Told you.” Y/f/n whispers in your ear before she drops your hand to meet her boyfriend.

Draco greets y/f/n with a kiss and Fred pulls you into a hug. You melt at his touch. Even in the heels you borrowed from y/f/n, he still towers over you, his chin resting on top of your head.

“You look...” Fred trails off, trying to find the words to describe the sight in front of him. Heavenly, goddess like, like he might just skip the date party and get down on one knee. “...incredible.”

You muster up whatever confidence you have in the midst of your imposing anxiety to give him a somewhat composed reply. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Weasley.”

That heart-melting, mind-scrambling smile returns to his lips before the four of you begin walking what to the beta house. Fred keeps his hand on the small of your back the entire walk, desperately trying to keep you close to him.

The ungodly amount of alcohol you consume at the pregame seems to overtake any remaining worries in your body. Fred never leaves your side, as if you’re already cuffed together before you even arrive at the function itself. You talk with George and Oliver again, and meet some of Fred’s other fraternity brothers like Lee Jordan and Theo Nott. They all seem to know who you are before you can even introduce yourself. It would be difficult to not know your face after watching fred gawk over your every instagram post. Any sort of reservations you once held about the beta boys melt away. They may be wildly intimidating to a stranger that passed them on the street, but watching the boys sing along to whatever song is blasting through the speaker while dancing like they’ve just learned to walk shows you that they’re like every other boy you’ve met.

The walk to the penthouse is short, but it seems to take forever to reign everyone in everyone once in a while. Fred is continuously checking up on you, grasping your hand or your waist, making sure you aren’t cold in your dress. The second you make it to the penthouse you’re immediately cuffed to the red haired boy and handed a comically large bottle of champagne and told the rules.

No unshackling until you’ve finished the bottle.

The party is far more cramped than the one in their backyard. You can’t bring yourself to care about the occasionally bumps from someone in the crowd or the growing smell of alcohol around you. You’re completely consumed by the angelic giant dancing with you. Even with the handcuffs, Fred’s fingers are still intertwined with yours as his other hand is holding you close to his body, roaming from your waist to your back and over your ass. Anytime you go to open the bottle you’d been given at the door to continue on feeding the buzzed state you’ve been in since you arrived at the beta house, Fred stops you. He still grabs you drinks from the makeshift bar and pulls you into the ‘shot room’ to send copious amounts of burning liquor down your throat, but the bottle stays off limits.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about you this month, y/n.” Fred hiccups his way through his confession as his lips are pressed close to your ear to make sure you hear every word he says over the loud music. “You do something to me.”

You know whatever you try to say will come out slurred, so you do the next best thing you can think of to tell him that you’re feeling the same way. You wrap your free hand behind his neck to press your lips to his. He immediately pulls you closer into him like he was a dying man grasping onto his only source of oxygen. Again, with your lips tangled in his, you’re suddenly the only two in the room. This moment is one you know will occupy your thoughts until the end of time. Held by the boy you’re completely enamored with as the world seems to stop around you. In every sense of the word, it is perfect.

When you pull away from each other to gasp for air, you move your lips to his ear.

“Why can’t I open the champagne?”

He leans back to look you in the eyes. The colored led lights changing on his face make him somehow even more breathtaking. That same smile appears on his lips before he leans down toward you again.

“I don’t want to finish it,” He yells over the bass of the speaker. “I want you to be stuck with me for as long as possible.”

Without a second thought, you pull your hands together to take the bottle from Fred’s free hand to pop the cork off the top before he can stop you. You bring the freshly opened champagne to your lips and take a swig before offering it over to him. His brows furrow in confusion, wondering if maybe you do want to be unchained from him.

“Freddie, if you think it’s going to take an empty bottle to get rid of me you’re wrong,” You try to shout, even in all the noise he hears you and his chest tightens. “Cuffed or not, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

He doesn’t reply, he simply takes the bottle from your hand and begins to chugs the fizzy drink, spilling over his face slightly. Watching him fumble over the liquid you know isn’t easy to take in large amounts, you can’t help but laugh at the sight in front of you. The words of Kid Cudi’s Pursuit of Happiness flood yours ears and you pull yourself right back against Fred’s body. He pulls the bottle from his mouth and hands it back to you before bringing his hand to your cheek to meet your lips once again. You’re sure you’re perfectly done hair and makeup is a wreck by now but your mind is continuously pulled back to the impossible reality that you’re kissing Fred Weasley. Of all the girls in the party, on this campus that flock to his side any chance they get, you’re the one that Fred Weasley suddenly became nervous around. The one he spent days wracking his brain to craft the perfect image of himself to.

His hand entangles in your more than likely sweaty hair, keeping you held exactly in place against his body as his hips sway against yours. His lips move from yours to your jaw, placing quick and light kisses across the skin. Something that would under any circumstance feel sexually driven feels lighthearted, pulling numerous giggles from your lips. His hand wanders down to your side and in a swift motion begins to tickle you through you dress. You laugh only become louder as you try to keep from doubling over.

“Fred!” You squeal through the stream of giggles. “Freddie stop!”

When you begin to snort, Fred loses it. He can no longer contain his stoic face he had on when he began to tease you. You’re eventually pulled from the party, Freds hand clasping yours as he discards the empty bottle in some corner of the penthouse and brings you to be unchained from him by the pledges standing by the entrance. Even with the cuffs off your wrists, you’re still chained to him as if you’re forced to be.

Before you can leave the apartment, Fred’s jacket is shrugged from his shoulders and placed around yours. You pull yours arms through the sleeves that are obviously too long for you. “What a gentleman.”

“Can’t have you catching a cold,” He replies, holding you by your waist as you walk back to the beta house. You’ve never seen it so empty or quiet, no one around with the exception of a few boys studying in their lounge. You return to the bedroom you were in only hours ago, it’s a mess from the pregame but you’re able to make out Fred’s bed from his brothers. Massive movie posters and stolen items from various sororities hanging on the walls around his bed, the Good Will Hunting poster above the bed with the blue comforter being a dead giveaway that it belonged to Fred. He told you it was his favorite one night.

“You don’t have to, but you’re welcome to crash here,” He asks, beginning unbutton his now stained dress shirt, revealing his toned abdomen. It’s a sight you don’t think you’ll ever quite get used to. You stop yourself from nearly drooling and shake yourself back to reality. “You can borrow some clothes, probably be pretty big on you but they’d be better than that dress.”

He already has a tee shirt and boxers held out for you. He’s secretly hoping you’re too tired to walk back to your own house so he can spend a little while longer with you. Taking the clothing from his hands, you begin to slip the straps of your dress down, signalling Fred to immediately turn around to give you some privacy. You mouth a quick oh my god to yourself before continuing the change into the boy’s clothing.

“You can turn around,” You tell him and his eyes meet yours once again. He gives you a quick once over before his lips break out in a smile. “What? What are you so smiley over?”

“I like you in my clothes.”

Immediately your heart begins to hammer in your chest as your cheeks begin to heat up. Exhaustion washes over you, the lack of sleep you got in the past week due to your constant overthinking finally catch up to you. After switching off the lights, he pulls back him dark comforter to let you slip into the warmth of his bed. As soon as your settled you turn on your side to face him. You’re both quiet, wordlessly taking in the sight of each other.

“I like you, y/n. A lot,” He finally breaks the silence. You can’t help but wonder if he’s drunker than he’s let on. He’s not, he knows exactly what he’s saying and means every word. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before.”

You reach over to trace your finger up his defined cheek bones before resting your palm on the side of his face. His arm is lazily slung over your waist, absentmindedly keeping you close to him. You lean in further, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I like you, Freddie, more than you know,” You confess. Your heart has never felt more full, you’re sure this whole month has been a dream and every second you’re terrified to wake up without even knowing Fred Weasley like you do now. “Thank you for taking me tonight.”

He softly chuckles, his hand moving up your body to stroke through your hair. Even in the dark you can see his bright smile, you’re new favorite sight. “I should be the one thanking you,” He tells you. “You have no idea how nervous I was that you wouldn’t come.”

You continue to shift closer to him, trying to expel the practically nonexistent space between the two of you. You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, finding his steady pulse quite calming. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Freddie.”

“I like it when you call me Freddie.”

You hum a response, suddenly becoming too tired to even speak. The warmth of his body radiating against yours mixed with the rhythm of his heartbeat lull you further into a deep sleep. His arms return to being wrapped around your waist, drinking in this moment and silently praying in would last forever. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head before whispering, “Goodnight, y/n.”

Hours later George, Lee and Oliver stumble into the room, all with slices of pizza from the late night shop down the street and are met with the sight of you and Fred tangled in the sheets, light snores coming from the red haired boy. They wish they could find something about the moment that they would tease him about later, but they come up short. The image laid out in front of them looks like it was taken straight from a movie.

Needless to say your constant thoughts of the beta boy are soon replaced by his presence anywhere and everywhere you go. You aren’t sure of many things in life, but you’re certain that he was made for you and you for him.

tags:

@justmesadgirl @greyspilot @sunflowerdarlingx

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #frat boy fred weasley #fred weasley modern #fred weasley x reader #weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #harry potter #weasley twins

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