#it's basically this shot of him but a little jazzed up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

orchidyoonkook · 4 months ago

Text

PG | KTH

Title: PG

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm tyring to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point.

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends.

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother.

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out.

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too.

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two.

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay.

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him.

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long.

Every time you could get it.

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team.

For four years.

And then the university swim team.

For another four.

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then.

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would.

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim.

Thank god for sunglasses.

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you.

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet?

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile.

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong.

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you.

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung.

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt.

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that.

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught.

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt.

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart.

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water.

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool.

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days.

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun.

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really.

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped.

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking.

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that.

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches.

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets.

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?”

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat.

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes.

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?”

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him.

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager.

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit.

And it works like a charm.

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that.

Definitely not.

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again.

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding.

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. “Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air.

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend.

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say.

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand.

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over her shoulders, a hand gripping at each end.

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother.

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction.

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen.

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool.

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel.

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you.

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch.

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge.

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell.

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims.

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven.

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday.

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for.

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids.

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you.

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed.

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break.

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you.

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually.

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit.

So, with the fifteen feet between you two quickly shrinking, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer.

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks.

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close.

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you.

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there.

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed.

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends.

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays.

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating.

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother.

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall.

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent.

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained.

And yet.

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot.

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you.

But you push him away.

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t.

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend.

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’.

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more.

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment.

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air.

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages.

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself.

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did.

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left.

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist.

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think.

Because Fourteen isn't here.

And old habits die hard.

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt.

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising.

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner.

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him.

Safe.

You’re safe.

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body.

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous.

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years.

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung.

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan.

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety.

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions.

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight.

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood.

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor.

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment.

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by.

It’s private.

It’s safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?”

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now.

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth.

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth.

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed.

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back.

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it.

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him.

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black.

Oh you are so fucked.

“As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like.

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine.

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once.

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up.

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth.

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips.

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does.

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes.

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck.

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows, the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing.

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it.

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine.

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it.

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night.

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere.

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you.

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone.

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part.

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently.

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end.

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.”

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders.

It makes you smile wickedly.

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw.

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you.

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick.

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything.

Yet.

“Can you behave for that long?”

You smirk.

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe.

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well.

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby.

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need.

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs.

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae.

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky.

Mesmerizing.

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his.

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him.

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge.

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat.

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure.

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you.

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks.

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips.

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees.

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it.

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well.

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you.

Taehyung.

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung.

Wants you.

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving.

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned.

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side.

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming.

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess.

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis.

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes.

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body.

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again.

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time.

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pore in your body. The damningly deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed.

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again.

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it.

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out.

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth.

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time.

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents.

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact.

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.”

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine.

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks.

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.”

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled.

Blissful.

Then pushes back in, methodically.

Torturous.

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is.

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over.

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas.

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well.

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you.

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough.

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own.

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless.

It’s a great move but it’s exerting.

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone.

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around.

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass.

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain.

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance.

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you.

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care.

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane.

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be.

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you.

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion.

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and drown in once another’s embrace.

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another.

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect.

Before consequences kick in and regrets form.

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets.

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning.

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away.

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning.

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out.

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies.

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground.

“All of it. Any of it.”

There.

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him.

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened.

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts.

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself.

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion.

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg.

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place.

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move.

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right.

An idea strikes.

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door.

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Masterlist

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theglamorousferal · 7 months ago

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Just found out about the Enough Stuff Non-Profit in Illinois and it got me thinking about Crime Alley and about if there was a place like that, they’d work hard to keep it going.

Now I’m imagining Danny, ghost king with its coffers, things at relative peace, but not having to actively work. He’d want to still be able to give back I think even if it’s not actively fighting. What if Danny started an Enough Stuff shop. Everything there is free. Everything is donated. It runs on donations. (The first few months it runs on his savings; ghost money translates thankfully).

Danny lives in the apartment above the store and the store has two floors. Sam moves in next door and runs an apothecary and plant store. She ends up running a vegan bakery and coffee shop too. If you perform or write a poem, you get a free coffee and scone. If she has the chance, she’ll teach you about basic herbal remedies and also some basic first aid because while honey is an antibiotic, it doesn’t do shit for something needing stitches. Jazz moves in and opens a free pediatric clinic. Tucker can be found running the business side of the non-profits and pushing Sam to “just get an EMT certification already, you’re more than qualified, and you know you want to.” Val travels a lot, she’s an Olympic martial artist, but when she settles someplace to train it’s usually with the trio in their Frankenstein apartment made up of the top two floors of three connected buildings. Between Danny finding he enjoyed training from his years as a hero and Sam wanting to always be in top form there’s a gym there she can train in and Danny’s usually free. She helps with whoever needs it when she has free time so she doesn’t feel like a mooch for living there only part-time. She ends up saving some kid from a thug and deciding to train him up. This leads to the kid bringing more kids to learn from her. She ends up buying a building on the block and renovating it to be a gym and training facility for her and it gets added to the list of non-profits Tucker is running. (He only leaves his corner office, he insisted, during working hours for lunch or meetings and the occasional lunch meeting).

Tim losing his mind trying to find anything about them. Him constantly hitting firewalls of binary, Egyptian hieroglyphics, Esperanto and some other language he could only describe as auditory Zalgo text. Tim desperately wanting to investigate in person but he promised Jason he’d stay out of it until he asked.

Jason coming back from a long mission with the Outlaws seeing the “cute little trust fund kid’s experiment” not only flourishing, but growing. He goes to research them only to find they’re mostly squeaky clean. There’s some stuff about disturbance of the peace and minor property damage when a teenager, but that doesn’t mean anything for someone setting up in Crime Alley. He watches them for a while, listened to what his guys said about them and the general opinion. He decides they’re above board, but he’d still watch them.

Then he got shot. More accurately, a shot grazed just under his armpit where there was a gap in his armor. He ended up stumbling out of an alleyway and directly into the pathway of one red headed doctor.

Kinda want to add more Amity Parker’s at some point. Debating having Paulina run a fashion house in the fashion district because she couldn’t convince her dad to let her move to a place known as Crime Alley, and just spend a bunch of time at Danny’s shop and maybe drop off ‘fits she made there. Star and Wes running a local radio station. Dash becoming a mechanic (after freaking out about not making it in football). Kwan opens a vet clinic. Eventually the Amity Parker’s own a full two blocks of housing and businesses.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dc x dp #anger management ship #hardcover ship #everlasting trio #everlasting insomniacs #amity park #ghost king au #ghost king danny

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whenlilyfallsinlove · 9 months ago

Text

jolene part 2

(aka remus having a fat crush on you) (basically part 1 from remus's perspective)

part 1

james potter x reader -> remus lupin x reader

@mishi-with-jazz you requested this, hope everyone enjoys :)

remus lupin prided himself on being smart. sure, he wouldn't go round bragging about it, but he knew he was clever. he was a good student, always achieving Os, and constantly top of the class (alongside lily). although recently, he didn't feel smart at all. that's because he had made a mistake. a big one. he had a massive crush on you. his best friend's girlfriend.

he hated himself for it. what kind of friend does that? but he couldn't help it. and anyway he had liked you first! way before james did, ever since third year. he felt selfish, thinking that, but it was the truth. james claimed he had liked you for ages, but remus knew that was nothing compared to the length of time he himself harboured feelings for you.

"hello darling." remus was broke from his thoughts by james' voice, and saw you had sat down next to james, across from him. across from him!!

you were beautiful, he couldn't help thinking when he saw you cheekily poked your tongue out at sirius. you had always been kind to him, ever since you sat next to each other in your very first year. potions, if he remembered correctly.

in fact, you even knew about his "furry little problem" as your boyfriend liked to call it. you found out in fourth year, and you were nothing but helpful to him. you promised not to tell anyone and hadn't treated him any differently. he was eternally grateful.

remus had not noticed he'd been gazing at you till you gave him a smile causing his cheeks to warm up and smile back, quickly looking away. he'd been caught staring. that was embarrassing. what if you thought he was a weirdo? what if james had noticed and forbid him from speaking to you? even worse.. what if james stopped being friends with him for fancying his girlfriend?

his panics stopped when he saw lily evans approach the table. he listened to you talk to her, thanking her, and then he noticed james' face. long before you had. before sirius aand peter had. he was blushing. was he serious? james was one of his best friends, don't get him wrong, but he had a girlfriend. it made it worse his girlfriend was you.

remus bit down on his marmalade toast, hard. he was angry for you.

"james are you okay?" he heard you ask curiously, causing him to feel a pang of sympathy for you.

he heard james brush you off, and suddenly it was like nothing had even happened. everyone seemed to have moved on. remus wasn't even sure that padfoot and wormtail had even noticed james' reaction to seeing lily.

he knew you had, though. you were quieter than usual. you looked.. sad.

he shot you a comforting smile, which you returned weakly.

at least you're smiling, even if it was forced.

sometime passed until you spoke up again

"i need to go to the library, does anyone want to come with?" you asked, looking hopefully at james.

"sorry love, got quidditch practice in ten minutes." james said with a sympathetic smile.

"it's fine." remus heard you mutter, you sounded a bit dejected.

"i'll go. i need to anyway, i need a book for the history of magic homework." remus surprised himself, not even processing what he had actually just said.

"thanks remus." you smile softly, and he follows you out of the hall.

you both walk in silence to the library, until remus decides to speak up.

"are you okay?" he asks, looking at your face.

"i'm fine, thanks though.." you said unconvincingly.

"are you sure? you look upset." he responds, giving you a worried smile.

"it's just... james. he's confusing." you sigh.

remus heart stopped. a small part of him hoped you'd tell him that you were planning to break up with james. he knew that was unlikely.

he gives you a nod to continue speaking and you smile in return.

"sometimes i think he still likes lily." you say, avoiding eye contact.

as much as remus wanted to tell you yes!! yes james still likes lily, but here i am and i like you a lot!! he knew he couldn't.

"don't be silly y/n." remus chuckles "james likes you, not lily. she's old news." he gives you a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"really?" you look at remus with such hopefulness, it made him hope what he was saying was true.

"really." he confirms. "james is crazy about you."

you smile at him, looking reassured.

"thanks remus." you say. "you're a great friend."

remus felt himself tense. friend. but of course that's all he was.. you had a boyfriend for godric's sake. he decided, however, he would like being your friend if it made you smile.

"it's no problem, really." he smiles at you and you carry on your journey to the library.

since that talk, you immediately felt closer to remus. you talked more and you both considered each other best friends.

weeks later, you were brought together again.

"you don't usually go to parties, do you remus?" you ask remus, who was holding up a drunk james.

gryffindor had just had a party to celebrate their quidditch win against slytherin and james, being captain of course, was drunk out of his mind.

he was touched you had noticed he didn't usually attend the parties. you were right. he didn't. but james and sirius were on the quidditch team, and he wanted to celebrate their win with them.

"n-no i don't, just wanted to support my friends." he decides to respond, and he knows what he said was apparently correct judging by the smile on you face.

he watched you talk to james comfortingly. merlin he wished you spoke to him like that. you were one of the nicest people he knew.

he zoned out a second but then sees your face, which instantly snaps him out of his daze.

"i'm not lily." he saw you grit your teeth. "would you rather have her take care of you?"

noticing your hurt words, he's quick to comfort you.

"don't worry y/n, he's drunk, he doesn't know any better." he tries to reassure you.

you nod back, but then collapse on a chair.

you looked sad. devastated. remus wanted nothing more to cheer you up.

"look.. y/n, i'll take him up to bed. do you want me to come back down so you can talk.. or do you want some space?" he asks.

"talk." you notice your abruptness and you feel your cheeks warm. "that'd be nice." you add on the end.

remus smiles at you and takes james up to their dorm, where sirius is left to deal with him.

"why's he such a lightweight?" sirius chuckles.

"i know. weakling." remus snorts. "he's fucked up though."

"he has?" sirius responds, with some surprise.

"yeah he's upset y/n." remus responds, frowning.

"prick." sirius rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to james.

"i'll be back.. soon." remus leaves his dorm, and goes back to where you're sat trying to regain yourself.

"hey.." you mutter when you see him, and he takes the seat next to you.

"talk to me." he smiles, sympathetically.

"it's james. again. you heard him. he's always thinking about lily! i'm his girlfriend, not her." a tear rolls down your face.

"oh y/n, don't cry." remus reaches out and brushes the tear away.

"sorry.. i'm pathetic. i just don't know what to do." you groan.

"look.. do you want my honest advice." remus scans your face.

you nod.

"talk to him about it tomorrow, if he doesn't take accountability for it. dump him. and i'm saying that as one of his best friends."

remus feels your gaze on him and feels his cheeks warm.

"oh remus." you lay your head on his shoulder, causing him to freeze up. he knew you weren't drunk but you were still a little tipsy.

he lets you lay there, you look tired.

"i wish james was more like you..." you mutter, drifting off.

remus's breath hitched. although this wasn't reliable at all (you weren't sober), this was progress.

looking at you with a small smile, he just couldn't help but love you.

#x reader #fanfic #harry potter x reader #fluff #angst #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black

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softbeej · 10 months ago

Note

alastor cumming from just getting his ears touched by reader?

oh you may!!

Jazz & Liquor (Alastor x Reader smut)

“Ah, whiskey is your poison, I see? Mind If I have a glass? Always puts me right to bed.” Alastor asked, as you were curled up in the library with a scratchy record playing in the background.

“Be my guest!” You insisted, pouring him a healthy glass which he took with a wink before sitting beside you on the sofa.

“Reading anything interesting?” He questioned. He must be really sleepy; he always got a bit more touchy feely and talkative with exhaustion.

You shook your head no, closing the book and giving him your full attention.

“Just a old mystery novel, is all...”

He nodded, listening but clearly uninterested, “What brings you down here? You’re usually up in the radio tower at this time. Is everything okay?”

The attention was finally on him, and he visibly perked up at this.

“I’ve not managed to get much sleep these past few nights. Just wanted a little change of scenery, you see. Oh, how boring it can get up there all on my lonesome. You can visit, you know?”

You smiled, he was basically begging you to spend time with him. If you were to go up there, what would he even have you do? There’s only one chair up there - strictly his. There’s not even a sofa up there, it’s almost as if he specifically designed the room to deter anyone from loitering up there. You supposed, he could have you sit on his lap as he worked. Or he could have you just sit cross legged at his feet.

You almost shook your head to get rid of these thoughts, “Well, thank you, Alastor. I’ll certainly keep that in mind- Oh!”

With that, Alastor’s head was on your lap. He’d slowly been sinking into you as you were speaking, before his head just grew too heavy and landed in your lap. Almost immediately after he realised, his lazy eyes shot open, blushing and utterly embarrassed as he started blabbing a string of apologies at you.

You shushed him immediately of course.

“Al, Al, it’s fine! You sleep, you clearly need too...” You insisted as you gently lowered his head back down. He pulled his legs up on the sofa too, getting more comfortable. You scanned the room for a blanket for him, but didn’t want to disturb him.

Your nails raked through his hair as his eyes fluttered closed. Then, he purred as you continued. Your face reddened and you almost gasped.

“You like that? Feel nice?”

He nodded, “Mm...”

He probably wanted to downplay how much he liked it, but his involuntary purring clearly gave him away.

You kept scratching his head, moving closer to the base of his ears, where his hair changed into fluffy fur. His purring grew louder and rougher, giving you butterflies. His breath caught in his throat, and he let out a strange noise.

“Keep going? Feels... Good...” He said. Whatever butterflies you were feeling, he was clearly feeling tenfold, if you had to guess by the strawberry red blush covering his cheeks.

“Relax, Alastor... I’m here, relax...” You cooed.

You smiled to yourself as you saw his cock hard in his pants, straining the fabric and threatening the seams. Would he will it to go away? Excuse himself as he sorted his situation? Or just lay there seeing it through to completion?

His heavy eyelids fluttered open a little to watch you with blown pupils as you continued scratching, paying special attention to his ears now. You smiled as they flitted and twitched at even the lightest touch, and how he shivered in sync. You noticed he started to buck his hips up ever so slightly, as a nice wet patch of precum began seeping through the crotch of his pants.

Not like he cared, though. Instead he bucked his hips up harder, eyebrows knitting together as his tummy grew hot with arousal. With a final couple of rubs of his ears, he came hard right in his pants with an almost pathetic moan. His face relaxed, but his hips kept twitching involuntarily with aftershocks of the intense orgasm. The next thing you knew, you heard a deep breath and looked down to see him fast asleep. He’d have to deal with that mess in the morning, you thought as you drifted off.

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #hazbin smut #alastor headcanons

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that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 2 months ago

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~{ So I was listening to “They’re only human” Death note the musical and this come out of the brain so here you gremlins go! }~

🌌🌙The Solar🌙🌌

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

If someone asked danny what he thought his life in the future would look like he would have said something like “Of course I will be an astronaut!” Or something to that effect

But what he did not expect was for him to have a protective and strong ass husband [Who is phantom and now the Ghost king and isn’t that something] with a little toddler who is 2 ( Dani who will be called dawn in this ) and a little protective toddler who is 4 (Dan who is called dusk) who he loves more than anything

And gain a ghost family who adores him (but for the price of another) who put up with his husband and adore him as well as spoil his Sun and Moon rotten

Now let’s see how this become as it has shall we?

====================================

Danny was having a bad day, first he almost miss class again [due to a mix of being to exhausted to get up on his on from fighting ghosts all night and with jazz being busy with college hunting so she couldn’t wake him up and his parents don’t even know what time he wakes up at for school]

Second Dash wouldn’t leave him alone and it was becoming hard to keep himself..well not really himself but recently he’s been feeling this that for a better word are not his to feel like when a ghost hit a bit to hard to feels rage and protectiveness wash over him anyway back to this.

Third Sam and Tucker were both out for separate reasons for Sam her parents had some kind of rich people thing to do and dragged her with them and tucker with his family were going to visit some relatives so yeah Danny had no one to hang out with.

Third apparently they had a test in English that nobody told Danny about so he knows he is going to fail that and some other things but it would get to long if we bought all that up but you get the point

So when Danny gets back home and all he wants to do is go to his room change into phantom and hug/chill himself out who is anyone to deny him [Like with the feeling feels that weren’t his, yeah he got the habit after a very bad day where his parents shot him in the back of the leg and it hurt bad so he hugged himself and apparently it was the right thing to do because he started to feel better! Not physically no it still hurt like a motherfucker but emotionally yes so he started to do that when ever he felt he needed comfort]

So Danny goes to his bedroom [not noticing the tall orange figure following him up] and closes the door [it was left ajar just enough for someone to look in] and changes into phantom but he hears the door open the door and he turns to see his dad looking at him

And the next thing he knows is a red hot pain coming from his side and blacks out

=====================================

It has been a week a long and painful week since his parents found out

After Jack [NEVER dad never again] he brought him down to the lab and tied him to a table and did…unspeakable things to him…have been doing this to him for a week

After two days Danny heard two more wails and he recognized the voices it was dan and Dani! [his children] and they were hurting them, Danny tired to get their attention to him to get them away from them but the damage was done and Dani and Dan went into their cores due to the damage but thank the ancients the cores were basically a undamageable and none of their weapons work on them

So that turns all their attention on him and how that would be their downfall [and the whole dimensions with them]

On day five is when Danny’s human “half” gives out due to no food or water and with the torture Maddie and Jack have inflicted on him it wasn’t really a surprise but what was when phantom and Danny unfazed and phantom was pissed they hurt Danny [his husband] they hurt Dani and Dan [his children] they weren’t getting of easy

So well they were fighting the now fully ghost Danny gets out from his restraints and grabs Dani and dans cores and pushes them inside him to heal them by essentially force feeding their cores clean ecto

Than phantom grabs him and pulls him fast to the portal and the go through and as they do they destroy the portal [not knowing that in doing that they let out all the built-up ecto and that essentially bombs the dimension taking everything with it]

And now that brings Danny here after healing and when the children cores got enough ecto that they could come out [as well as speed running a very loving relationship that is still going very strong]

And now Danny is very happy with his life now or well after-life

=====================================

~{ Now onto the DCU part! }~

When Damian got into a fight with father he expected to be benched as Robin for a few days or a week what he was not expecting was for father to assigned him to go and watch a warehouse that is known for not having been used for anything for longer than Damien himself has been alive [it’s due to a cult that hangs around there not that the bats know that]

So now here is Damien tide up in surprisingly good rope that he can not break free from in the middle of a summoning circle and waiting for the other to get here while the cultist surrounds the circle and start to speak in a language Damian does not understand and Damian doesn’t believe anything will happen

Until the summoning circle turns into a portal and Damian falls through as the others get there to help him

The last thing Damien remembers before he passes out is someone yelling after a while Damian wakes up in a bed…? A very soft large bed with a lot of space and as Damien takes in his surroundings he hears a door opening and as he turns his head to look he sees a tall man…? Woman? Person let’s go with that

They walk over to him and start cooing? At him and fretting over him [✨Mom instincts✨] and stuff a few days? [time is weird Damian has found] and the person has started to bring him with them as they walk around [Danny wants the little child to get some air and cleaner Ecto] and he has met the person’s children who are named dusk and dawn respectively and they have taken him as their older brother he believes this is due to the person [who he now knows his name is Solar, it’s not just everyone calls him that due to his space obsession] calls him his Stars much like how he calls this children his Sun and Moon

And with meeting Solar with Dawn and Dusk it is a guarantee that Damien was to meet Solar infamous husband Phantom [who he has heard about from the whispers of some of the working staff] and it goes pretty well [not that Phantom can do shit to this child his husband has already taken him in as his own] so he lets the child stay for how long as he likes

Meanwhile with the Batfam

The Batfam are freaking TF out about where Damian is and is he safe OMG-

=====================================

~{ And that’s all I can really do with the DCU part I am very tired if you can’t tell and now onto the details! }~

Now for Danny outfit I’m thinking something like this

With this over coat

And for hair/hair ornaments

And for phantom you know the drill blue-greenish skin, white hair and pointy ears

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

~{ And that is about it! Sorry if the last part is weird I am very tired and sleepy anyway I hope you guys like this and see you gremlins later byeeee }~

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magnificentbirb · 1 month ago

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okay so i wrote a little thing. this is just some mild post-abu dhabi charlos angst, mostly charles overthinking, but after seeing the photos of carlos all in white for the williams tests, i couldn’t get this scene out of my head, so… jazz hands. here it be.

idk if this will turn into anything longer, but i figured i’d drop it here for anyone else having c² feelings this week. 🫠

enjoy~!

The first photos of Carlos in a crisp white race suit hit Charles like a punch to the solar plexus.

He sees the shots while scrolling absently on Instagram, attempting to stave off the remains of a mild hangover with mindless social media. Charles knew the test was happening today, but apparently he forgot his own promise to himself to avoid social media so soon after an emotional race weekend, and now he’s paying the price with a rush of breath from his lungs.

Carlos looks… good. Of course he looks good. His skin is still tanned from days on the beach in Qatar and his hair is perfect, as always, and his broad shoulders and slim waist were basically made for the clean lines of a race suit, but the white—

The white feels wrong.

And if Carlos is wearing a race suit, that means he drove the car. A car that, for the first time in four years, is not the perfect match to Charles’s.

Charles stares at the photos, gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip. Against his better judgment, he opens Twitter. The videos and photos of Carlos in the sleek blue Williams are easy enough to find. Carlos’s fan accounts are posting them with wild, reckless abandon, posts full of exclamation marks and blue hearts and genuine excitement. Charles’s heart pangs a bit at that—at the idea of these fans so easily abandoning legendary red for legendary blue—but he can’t find it in himself to blame any of them. Carlos’s fans are loyal, and seemingly as delighted by the prospect of a new journey and a new challenge as Carlos is. Charles can’t really begrudge them that. He’d also follow Carlos Sainz to the ends of the earth, if he could. A new team would be nothing.

Charles watches the videos of Carlos driving the Williams. He’s not sure whether he’d be able to know without prior context that it was Carlos driving until one clip shows Carlos taking a corner where he brakes a bit later than Charles would, because he always brakes later than Charles at that particular corner, and—yeah. That’s Carlos. The white 55 emblazoned on the nose of the car confirms it.

White on blue. No more white on red.

Charles closes Twitter. He stares at the golden-lit ceiling of his hotel room, then over at the clock on the bedside table. If there are photos of Carlos after the test, then that means his laps are done, right? He should be free.

Charles has his phone unlocked and opened to Carlos’s contact, his thumb hovering over the call button, before he finally pauses.

Carlos is probably debriefing with his team. He’s probably focused on the car, on the potential improvements, on the tests lined up for tomorrow, on the unfamiliar engine and a new racing engineer, new mechanics, new possibilities.

He’s probably not thinking about Charles at all.

Charles lowers his phone. He shouldn’t interrupt. He’s no longer Carlos’s teammate, no longer a priority, and that’s… fine. It makes sense. Charles should let him get on with his new team. He knows how much Carlos has been looking forward to these two days of testing. He doesn’t want to get in the way of that.

Charles sets aside his phone and stares at the ceiling some more. Eventually, he’ll meet his mother and Arthur for dinner, and before he knows it, it’ll be tomorrow morning, and he’ll be back at the track and maybe—maybe—he can see Carlos then. He doesn’t need to bother him tonight. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since they were teammates. Charles doesn’t miss him that much. He’s fine. He cried it out a bit with Carlos on Sunday, both of them laughing at themselves through their tears, and that was that. Charles is fine. He can wait.

He closes his eyes and sees Carlos in blinding white.

He can wait.

#charlos #charlos fic #1655 #1655 fic #f1 fic #birb fic #basically just charles trying not to feel things #i’m excited for carlos at williams but i’m already mourning c² can you tell

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solar4seekstron · 16 days ago

Text

Transformers 2007 - Chapter One: Beginnings

Indie Bayverse Transformers Series - Creator: Solar Seeks

Introduction Movies Masterlist

Introduction, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six

Content: 18+, basically a battle and interactions to get to know the characters a little more.

TW/Tags: 3rd POV (1st POV wouldn’t work here sorry), Altair is a placeholder for Y/N, This story is self-insert, Multiple deaths, Decapitation, Swearing, Jealous Elita in background, Angry Prowl, Optimus and Altair have a pretty happy relationship.

Notes: Originally the first chapter was going to be all the way to where Sam and Mikaela are taken and the bots will come to save them. The story ending on bee getting captured. OP and Reader having a small argument because reasons. More on that in the next chapter. But I decided that I need to write the story to start off with reader Altair and key points. Like their relationship with everyone and the lead up to arriving to earth.

The second is because I was redoing some lore reading. In the comics Megatron is the one to take Bees voice box. And so in the first chapter he has already lost his voice box. I do plan on doing a flashback to better fletch out the situation and event from the comics in possibly later chapters if it fits since I just learned this.

Third I’ll probably do a rewrite at some point and add a little more once I rewatch the other movies and after I finish the 2nd chapter if I realize I must add more.

Editor: @midnightbears

Chapter One: Beginnings

Location: Unknown Planet - Situation: Battle Between Autobot and Decepticon

It was a full-on Battle. And it was messy. The Decepticons at large as they yelled in almost joy. The planet is windy and full of dirt.

A mission set for the Autobot to find energon gone wrong. The battle is mostly surprising when the skilled shooter Chromia is almost shot by one of the Decepticons.

Who at first was a lot closer to the Decepticons during the fight. Other bigger bots making their way over to help her out.

Crosshiars jumped over a rock, using his cervo and arm to pull his waist up before landing next to her.

Speaking to her while he gets his sniper gun ready. Both kneeling and yelling.

“How many did you counter?” Crosshiars asked. Avoiding a shot that only hit the rock by the side. Chromia then responded. “So far ten. But it seems that more might come!”

Crosshairs peaked a little over the rock before returning to looking at Chromia.

They then heard very large engines and looked toward where the ship was. Ironhide, Prowl, and Jazz soon showing up. Transformering mid-air, joining the fight.

The Decepticons slowly move in circles around them. Jazz led them out of the center.

Trying to find any way to get out of there with the others. But that was starting to prove difficult. The Decepticons there proving to be a little stronger.

Jazz then tries to speak through the comm as his back presses harshly against a large rock bigger than him. One cervo holding his gun while the other digit presses into his comm.

Prowl is on his left while Chromia stays on his right.

“This is First Lieutenant Jazz! We are under attack and need help! Reporting to Autobot base for immediate backup!”

He yelled but the comms weren’t going through Ironhide brought out one of his larger guns and started shooting almost like a madman left and right. Walking forward.

Crosshairs getting behind him as a shield.

Jazz gets upset trying to figure out what’s happening with the signal.

But then he got a comm by another bot. Jazz answering. “Where are you we need help! And have you tried the comms for the base? I can’t reach Optimus!“ he closes the call.

But he soon gets another one by a different comm. Another bot spoke with a strong yet soft voice.

A cybertronian car is making its way closer to the others. Then spoke once more to Jazz through the comm. “The Decepticon Cyclonus cut signals on this planet. He’s been dealt with. I’m the backup now. See you soon jazz.”

The comm closes. Jazz then turned his helm to the side and peaked above the rock to see the Decepticons hiding behind other larger rocks and trees.

The wind is harsh while Chromia and Prowl remain by his side. Ironhide hid behind a large tree and a few rocks, reloading his weapon.

Crosshairs is a lot closer and further than the others and can get a better shot at the Decepticons. Like hitting their shoulder and even getting a few headshots earlier.

He had a huge grin on his dermas the entire time.

As the others continue they soon hear the sound of a car speeding.

Jazz, Prowl, and Ironhide are the ones to turn their helms toward the sound. Soon they saw the car drive up on a larger rock next to the ship.

The car flies and then transforms into a certain bot.

Altair soon appeared in the air with their face plate fully covered by their visors and mouth guard. Anyone who knew them like Ironhide, Crosshairs, and Jazz knows that they’re smiling under that mask.

While in midair, they then pull out two purple guns. All in a fast motion, they point the two guns down and start shooting at the Decepticons below.

Able to get four of them.

Jazz and Chromia cheered while Prowl just scowled under his visors. A frown on his dermas. Chromia and the others were too busy with the shooting.

Once they hit the floor flawlessly once on their legs, Altiar rolled forward smoothly with the guns and started shooting at the others more and more.

Doubledealer noticed them to be Cyclonus. Soon yelling.

“You Autobot scum!!! You killed Cyclonus didn’t you!!!!” In a fit of rage, he started to shoot like an idiot, leaving himself open.

Crosshairs getting a headshot. Covering for Altair as they continue.

Altair started to run further and further into the battle. Being a pretty big bot they’re able to easily take on many of the larger bots who were bigger than Ironhide.

One of the snipers on the Decepticon's side was able to get a good hit on the shoulder.

When the ammo soon ran out. They throw them to the side and then soon pull out their swords. Hiding behind a large rock a few feet ahead of Ironhide.

Who looked over at them from behind.

Altair peaking just a little past the rock to see how many Decepticons are there.

Jazz then spoke through the comms. Unable to speak to Prowl and Chromia even when they’re next to him thanks to the noise of guns and wind. “We move forward!”

They and Ironhide look at each other before nodding.

The four of them move. From their current hiding spot make their way closer to where Crosshairs and Altair are. Able to easily avoid the shootings as they make it to larger trees.

Kneeling and hiding just behind Crosshairs. Altair stayed close to the ground and sneaked closer to one of the Decepticons.

Jazz continues to get closer to Chromia and Prowl.

But a grenade was able to cause them to scatter once it landed in front of Jazz. Getting around more than just in the middle of the field.

When Prowl got behind Ironhide with a tree. Ironhide shooting again.

Prowl would then get a comm call. Seeing it’s not from the base. Prowl answers expecting it to be someone searching for them on another planet or is from the Autobot base.

“This is Officer Prowl of the Autobot cause. This better be our backup!”

He said in a strict and commanding tone.

Only to get more upset when he hears a certain gun specialist bot on the other side.

“Nope! But if you give me the permission I need I can come right in then I’ll save y’all without a second thought!”

Prowl then rolled his optics and responded while his back remained against a large tree.

“Hound we need you to get back to base. We can’t reach it and it’s too dangerous without more. Your team won’t be able to help stand against what we’re dealing with. We need better backup!”

“Well, I’m better backup! Hell, I’m a great backup! I-“

Prowl interrupts him once more. Being almost shot by the side of his helm. The shooting only hit the side of the tree. Then speaking once more when he glanced at the mark on the tree.

Then out of nowhere, a full-on blast of guns started to fire.

“Just go get the backup we need!!!!”

He then hangs up. Peaking by the side seeing Ironhide returning to shooting once more. Prowl groaned and loaded his police gun. Sighing before he peaks over next to the tree once more.

Seeing Jazz jump over a rock and shoot another Decepticon.

Altair was close by decapitating one and kicking another away. Soon getting into another sword battle with a different person.

Jazz then transforms to drive closer. Shooting one of the Decepticons that was behind a small boulder. Then staying down on the other side of the boulder once the other Decepticons start shooting at him.

Reloading his minigun and getting his blaster ready.

Until. ”Ring, Ring, Ring” Jazz a little confused answers the call after turning his blaster back into his cervo then answers. “Optimu-“

”Jazz! Where’s your location I can come to you guys as backup!” Jazz then responded. “No- damn it Hound! Go back to the base and tell them we’re outnumbered. You need to-“

Jazz is then tackled to the side by Chromia right as he’s about to be hit with another grenade.

Jazz then helped her up and the two hid behind a couple of trees together. Jazz kneeled to shield Chromia while she kept shooting. Jazz then responded to the comm.

”Hound this is an order. Go to the base and try to get us back up! Besides you’re not even supposed to be on another planet! You need to leave to get help! You’ll have your chance another time! Now go to the base! That’s an order!!!”

He ends the call. Hound stood there on another planet a good million miles away with a few other Autobots who were just wandering around.

Altair and Ironhide then start to head deeper into the battlefield killing as many cons as they can but the two also notice that these are. The Decepticon's weakest cons. Something is up.

Ironhide and Altair then looked at each other until Altair got a call through the comm.

Altair and Ironhide continue to run to the other Decepticons with the others behind them. Altair answered it. Soon hearing Hound's voice on the other side.

”Altair! Tell that stuck-up Prowl and Lieutenant Jazz to let me join you guys. I’m a great back up and with me, you, and Ironhide on the team. Those scums don’t stand a chance!”

Altair listens to him while still fighting in a sword battle.

Being able to win then hides behind a rock and tree. A second later a Decepticon came to. Try to catch them off guard next to the rock but Altair was faster.

Altair then currently strangling the Decepticon Razorclaw with one arm as they keep listening to Hounds little rant. Razorclaw was having a hard time trying to save himself while Altair was trying to avoid being shot at by the other Decepticons.

Altair then finally responded as they placed their other cervo to their helm. Showing they’re thinking ‘Is he for real right now?’.

“Sorry Hound, but shouldn’t you be with the others back at the base? I mean you were given orders.”

Hound then responded once more.

“Come on I’m a great back up and you still owe me for that kill count. I still want that redraw!”

While he spoke Altair has then grabbed the side of Razorclaws helm tightly. Then twisting his helm in the other direction breaking his neck completely in a fast snap.

Then ripping it off and kicking the body away. Turning back to the other Decepticons once he was finished with a scowel.

Ironhide continues to shoot without much worry while the others keep up with trying to shoot other cons.

While Hound responded, Altair jumped to another tree before being almost shot. Still holding Razorclaws helm before sticking a grenade in it then starts running toward the larger Decepticon there.

Ironhide joining them.

“Yeah, but I have a job to disarm bombs for other teams. So Optimus sent me and now that I hear in a cut-off call to base by Jazz. This can be a good excuse to start killing people!”

Ironhide then joins the call. Having hit a bot with the back of his gun and then shot them.

Altair has thrown the head into one of the larger bots' cervos. Getting killed by the explosion. Altiar then jumps through the explosion with both swords at hand.

Then landing and starts a sword battle against Fang. Ironhide is only a few feet from them as the others join in.

He joined the comm and started to speak to Hound in a tone that was almost calming and cheerful showing they’re both old friends. ”Hound you are a trained soldier! Just do as the others tell ya. Ya know you can’t change Jazz's mind. Well- Unless you’re Prime or Altair.”

Altair then chuckled with a response. M

“Oh please it’s Prowl you gotta deal with when it comes to changing your damn plans. And besides, we’re handling this pretty well! Wouldn’t ya say? Hide!”

They say with a cheer while Ironhide chuckles.

Jazz, Chromia, Prowl, and Crosshairs soon joined around them like a true team. Altair then kills Fang with a stab. Twisting their blade causing his blood to splatter on them.

They then respond with a casual tone while his frame falls back.

“Look Hound you’ll have your chance next time. But for now, just do as the boss says. Which is Jazz.” They finished, their voice almost tired but calm at the end.

They then got into another sword battle with Menasor. Fighting the larger bot as they spoke. Ironhide then finished the conversation while Hound and Altair just listened.

“Don’t worry Hound. You’ll be kicking head before ya know it! Oh, and you better not have eaten my snack back at base!”

The call then ended between the three, with Hound groaning and getting fussy. The Autobots around him getting their ship ready to leave. He reluctantly walked over for them to leave.

Altair and the others continue to shoot and kill as many Decepticons as they can.

Altair then noticed that some of the bots were retreating after they saw them and Jazz. Calcar then gets an upper cervo on Altair.

The two fall down a small hill as he gets a few good punches at Altiar.

The others scream their name but are slowly overwhelmed by more Decepticons. At one point though, Crosshairs and Jazz start killing the bigger bots by getting on them.

Chromia and Prowl stick next to each other while shooting at grenades that the Decepticons try to throw at them.

In the background, Ironhide helps out Jazz with gutting one of the larger bots with his bare cervo.

Altair meanwhile was trying to block punches from Calcar but he was a strong bot and also much younger.

The two bots got into a fistfight while he yelled how he tried to become a knight before the war. Only to realize the knights are the the to abandon their duty like many others. Including Altair.

“I looked up to you as a sparkling! You and Orion Pax but you guys could care less about us poor folks. Tonight. I will give you the gift of joining pri-“

Altair then was able to get the upper hand and turn him over. Being on top now and getting a few good blows at him. He tries to keep speaking but at one point his helm is shot clean off.

His blood splattered onto their face plate. Well, their face mask anyway.

They then stood up. Wiping the blood off their visors then turning their frame towards to Crosshairs. They then nodded to him.

A form of thanks as he then kneeled to them.

The other out to them to help them up. They then took it and got back up with him and the others. Shooting still going on.

They then made their way to the others. Crosshairs and Altair then yell in triumph as they run into battle. Altair can get a good hand at one of the larger bots. Chromia taking in the smaller ones, covering for Jazz.

Prowl continued to run faster and faster into the battlefield. He always seemed annoyed with how Altair fought so casually.

Trying to find a way to give them orders but couldn’t think of anything. The others not paying much while Crosshairs just focused on covering for the others.

At some point, Prowl and Altair's backs were against each other and fighting alongside each other.

Covering for each other while a few Decepticons got closer. Prowl then spoke while Altair continued to slash them with their sword. Prowl doing the shooting.

At one point Prowl shot a cons helm.

Between Altiar and their cervo when they tried to wipe the blood off them.

Altair then stabbed through one of the bots their same size who was behind Prowl after he took the shot. Prowl and Altair watched the con fall back before the two looked at each other.

Altair stared down at him while Prowl looked up at them.

Both with opposite expressions the other can’t see. Prowl with a frown while he couldn’t see. They were smiling. He then spoke in an angry tone.

“I had him.”

”Sure you did boss bot. And what would you have done if you did deal with him?”

They responded casually. Prowl was about to scold them until Altair noticed a bot about to shoot Prowl while lying on the ground from behind.

Altair then placed their arm around him while kneeling for a moment before turning around with prowl against their chest.

Bracing for the impact to be shot.

That’s until they both heard the shots but when Altair released they weren’t shot.

They slowly turned their helm, Prowl peaking over their shoulder to see who it is. They then see that it’s Ironhide who used his large gun to block the shot.

Chromia is the one to shoot the Decepticon in the helm. Just as they notice more Decepticons coming their way from afar.

Altair standing straight no longer holding Prowl. Who just looked at Jazz and Chromia. Still next to them.

Ironhide next to the. Crosshairs casually makes his way next to Ironhide while holding his sniper gun and letting it lean against his shoulder.

Chromia standing in front of Ironhide just a few feet ahead and Jazz standing next to her while looking at his arm.

He then groaned in frustration while his fingers kept tapping at a screen hologram showing on his arm. This causes the others to look at him. Jazz then spoke as he kept pressing buttons.

”I just can’t reach base. We will just have to return with what we have and return to the base. And pray to Primus that we find more energon for at least another planet after. These damn Decepticons just keep appearing on each planet we go to!”

As he spoke Crosshairs checked the amount of bullets in his sniper. Ironhide rested his large gun against his shoulder while he spoke. Chromia just looked at him.

Altair checks out their swords seeing how bloody they are while Prowl, while not obvious under his visors.

He side-opticing Altiar while they didn’t seem to pay him much mind.

Ironhide then responded. Causing the other optics to be on him now. “I hate to say it. But the best thing we can just do now is retreat. We can’t keep fighting against these bots like this. A damn hour has already passed. Hound probably got stuck or something.”

Altair and Chromia nodded in agreement. Crosshairs didn’t seem too interested in what he was saying.

Prowl just crossed his arms and thought. But seemed way more annoyed than worried. Altair then looks at Jazz before speaking.

Speaking before Prowl even has a chance to speak. So he looked at them angrily while they spoke.

“Ironhide is right. There might not be a lot but we can still survive with what we got. With any luck the other Autobots were able to find even more. Better chances than us. So, let's return before these Decepticons get any closer. Alright?”

They looked at everyone else. Who just sighed. Then out of nowhere, a grenade called their attention.

Realizing even more Decepticons are coming. All of them turned their helms toward the explosion. It happening a few feet away behind Altair and Prowl.

And so Jazz sighed and held the bridge of his visors. The others looked back at him.

Then raising his cervo before pointing at the ship on the way back. “Alright, alright, Full retreat team. Let’s go.”

Crosshairs then sighed. His helm leaned back before turning around while walking next to Ironhide. Who turned around while putting his large gun back to be behind his back.

Chromia starts moving forward with her pedes turning into wheels.

Prowl puts his guns away while Altair spins their swords for a good moment then flawlessly puts them back into their sword handles.

They all make their way to the ship. Soon transform and drive alongside together while the yells of the Decepticons can be faintly heard in the background.

Altair passed Prowl who was a bit slower than everyone.

All making it to the ship and getting on board right away. Everyone gets into place on the small ship. Jazz and the others run into the main room to control the ship.

Jazz gets into the captain's chair while the others go to the others' seats getting the engine started. The ship is hit a little by a grenade as the Decepticons get closer.

Crosshairs then spun to face Jazz and put his cervos together as he pleaded. “Oh please, please let me shoot them!”

Jazz just sighed. His helm made a full circle motion.

Going up and then down to face the side before waving his cervo. “Might as well. Means killing more while in the process.”

Crosshairs then yells a Yes while Ironhide and Chromia are heard chuckling. Altair focuses on the ship balancing as it rises. Prowl doing the same and groaning in annoyance.

Crosshairs soon have the weapons of the ship ready and start shooting at the Decepticons below. The many cons soon ran for their lives like a bunch of little ants.

As the ship continues to rise. Crosshairs wasn’t holding back anytime soon. Even laughing like a madman.

Everyone else casually doing their job on the ship while Jazz continues to give orders.

Eventually, the ship is high enough to start going into space. Crosshairs soon get sad and fussy when he can’t shoot any more Decepticons.

Jazz then puts in the location for the Autobot base while also putting the ship on autopilot. He leans back and tries to relax in his captain's chair.

The others leaned back a bit in their chairs and stretched their arms and legs.

Prowl would just lean back a little as he watches forward. Being in the middle of everyone else’s chairs.

Ironhide then looks forward into space before getting to work on his gun that was shot. Chromia doing the same with her weapon.

Jazz remained neutral before leaning to the side.

Resting the side of his helm against his cervo. He’s tired. Anyone can tell that. He then glanced at the others. Looking down, seeing they’re doing their own thing.

Crosshairs just staring off into space.

His optics soon sets on Altair. Who just sat there for a moment before looking at their reflection through the window of the ship.

They are the most covered in blood. But doesn’t seem too bothered. The Six of them watched as they got closer and closer to the base. It only takes a few more minutes to get to them.

Everyone soon had a warm smile and looked at each other. Altair and Jazz keeping their visors and masks on.

Their frame is still as they watch the main Autobot base ship get closer and closer.

———————————————————————————-

Location: Autobot Base Ship - Status: Expanded

The ship holding Jazz and the team soon fly into the main ship base while other bots walk around. The ship then landed deep into the larger ship.

Jazz and the others start walking out the door for the entrance of the ship.

Jazz took the lead while the others walked behind him.

The other bots pay their respects to him as they pass by. Jazz made his way to the ship's main control room.

As they walked the bots who’d pass by would both nod their head in respect toward them. While a few of them did it to the five of them others fully six.

The others who didn’t only at times gave Altair more uncertain looks. While the bots that look much older still paid their respects.

Once inside the base and heading through the halls of the ship. Bots pass by to nod their helms. Jazz then spoke.

“Alright bots, you know the drill. I’ll speak to Optimus and you all give in your info one by one. I’ll let Prime know it was a semi-success but at least we got enough energon to last another three weeks. Understood?”

The five then responded. “Yes, Lieutenant Jazz.”

They all continued. Getting closer and closer. Chromia can feel her exhaustion finally catching up with her.

Ironhide let out a huff of air as he felt his lower back start to ache. Crosshiars felt his legs and arms slowly feeling sore. Though he tried to ignore it.

Prowl was just ignoring the mild scrapes on his shoulder and arm.

As for Altair. Still mostly covered in blood and only a couple of scrapes on their arm and waist. Being the dirtiest out of them all. While not anxious.

They do feel their self get worried and curious at the same time.

As will be shown why now.

Jazz then pressed the buttons to open the door. Looking down at the passcode, pressing so casually.

Once the door opened, they all then walked in. They’re met with silence at first but while they walked many bots waved hello to them.

Saying such words as Welcome back or How was the mission?

Once they got closer, the view of Optimus Prime was seen in his seat as the captain of the ship. Elita was next to him as she appeared to be speaking.

Optimus has his mouth guard on and his optics focused. He was looking over data and seemed to be typing in it. That’s until he notices them all.

He then gave Elita the data pad. Who looked at Altair.

Physically looking down at them with an almost frowned expression. Altair just looks away. Looking down as Optimus makes his way down to the floor to the others.

His deep voice is then heard as he speaks to the team.

“I hope the mission went well for you guys, unlike last time. And have you all heard from the Jolts team? They haven’t responded or reached out after a while.”

Jazz then stood a little straighter then spoke.

“The Decepticon Cyclonus cut the comms line at some point while we were hunting. So most likely before we were attacked once more by Decepticons. We were able to get enough energon. So better than last time. But.”

Jazz noticed the way Optimus narrowed his optics at him. Not out of anger but out of worry. Even if others couldn’t tell.

Altair has glanced at Jazz through their visors. The others mostly looked at Optimus the whole time he spoke. Jazz then continued.

“It keeps getting harder and harder to deal with just us as a team Prime. They give us their weakest and then more show up. We barely made it out. Luckily we had Altair, Crosshairs, and Ironhide but what if we don’t next time?”

Chromia nodded in agreement. Looking down as she glanced at Arcee and Elita who stood there.

Waiting for her. Optimus seemed like he was about to speak until he got a comm call. Finally speaking. “One moment, please.”

He then turned his frame to the side a little. Answering the call. “This is Optimus.”

It was Jolt on the other side of the line.

“Optimus. Apologies for not answering or reaching to you out sooner. Hound informed along with a few others that comms were cut thanks to one of the Decepticons. We’re not sure if they’re still alive. We were only able to help each other except one team. Unknown if they’re alive as well. We’re on our way to you now that the comms are working once more.”

Optimus closed his optics for a moment before opening them once more. “Thank you Jolt. We shall await your return.” The comm ends.

Optimus then fully faces Jazz once more. During the call, Altair has placed their cervo over one of their sword handles.

Waiting to hear if it was an emergency. Ironhide glanced at them and placed a cervo on their shoulder.

Telling them through his optics, they have fought enough for the day. Altair calming down a little. That’s when Optimus finished the call.

”We shall speak after you get some rest, old friend. You all can send in your reports later tomorrow.” Optimus spoke as he placed his larger cervo on his shoulder.

Jazz feels an almost form of comfort. Looking up at him with tired optics before giving a simple nod.

Optimus then stands a little straighter and looks over the rest of them.

”You all did well today. Go rest now and we shall discuss the next plan or mission later on.” Everyone gave a nod and said at the same time. “Yes Sir.”

The Ironhide and Optimus share a glance for a moment before he, Chromia, and Jazz start walking away. Prowl tries to speak to Optimus, only to be stopped by Optimus's cervo. Optimus then turns his helm before speaking. “You have your orders. You’re exhausted. Go sleep Prowl.”

Prowl furrowed its optic ridges behind his visors before turning around and leaving to the same door as the others.

Leaving Altair with Optimus. Both knew why the two were still there.

Optimus then glanced at Elita. Who stood there since Arcee went to join Chromia. He then looked back at Altair. Who was currently waiting for his orders. Elita tried to make it look like she didn’t care. Altair didn’t make it obvious but they made sure to glance at her.

Side opticing at her knowing she can get too interested.

Optimus then looked back at you. Speaking in an almost whisper-like tone. Slowly nodding his helm as he spoke. “Let’s go.”

Optimus then walked past them. Altair then turns their frame and starts following him. Keeping a distance as he walked forward. The two continue forward until they reach a meeting room.

Once at the front of the door. Optimus then presses in the passcode. The door soon opened. He then steps aside for Altair to enter first. They do so with their cervo still placed on top of one of their sword handles. Optimus watching them before joining behind them.

Then pressing into the passcode with his digit on the other side. The door then closed. Optimus turned to fully look at Altair. Who stood there looking over the table.

Their helm low. Showing they’re deep in thought. Optimus's mouthguard then retracts. Disappearing while he makes his way towards. Them. Placing a gentle cervo on their shoulder. This causes them to look up at him. He then spoke.

”What did he tell you?”

Altair looked back at the table. Their cervo once on their sword handle moved to grab something from their back. In a hidden pocket part of their frame. They pull out a drawing. Made out of some form of a paper-like object with greyness and some energon blood on it.

They placed it in his cervo that was out before them, showing he was waiting to hold something. He then scanned the strange paper.

Though the two didn’t know what it was. He then makes his way around the table.

So then he’s on the other side of it. He then puts the paper down. Then sits in the chair there. Altair doing the same when Optimus gave them a nod.

Optimus and Altair stare at each other for a moment longer. That’s until Altair finally pulled back their visors and mouthguard.

Their bright yellow optics shinning almost bright for a moment. That’s when the two share a gentle smile.

Their optics soften for a little before Optimus speaks.

”As always, you pull through old friend. Bringing everyone back.” Altair let out a soft chuckle. Continuing to stare at him before speaking.

”I’m your oldest friend Optimus. Could you ever think any less?”

The two remained silent for a moment longer. Optimus looking at the paper. “This…planet. It could be the clue to the cube. But why does it look so familiar?” His helm remained turned looking toward the paper.

Who then had a serious expression on their faceplate before speaking. “It’s Earth, Optimus. Where our brothers are.”

Optimus seemed almost saddened for a moment.

Though he tried to not show it. He couldn’t hide it from them. They then spoke once more in a more serious tone once placing their cervos and arms on the table.

“Optimus, we made a vow.”

Optimus only glanced at Altair. Taking note of how serious they are. He then let out a soft sigh then turned his helm to look at them. Speaking once more.

Following their tone.

“We have history on that planet. Stepping foot will be like old times. Fighting alongside the humans. Though, times surely must have changed over the years. To get too attached in case of betrayal.”

Altair slowly gave a small nod. They agree with him. But their optics show worry.

Their usual smile is not visible anymore for them. They then spoke, trying to change the subject for a moment. “Any news of Bee and Drift. How are their missions going?”

Optimus let out a sigh. He then interlocked his cervos as he spoke.

“We still haven’t heard from Drift. He is taking this “make up for time” mission very seriously with such a dangerous mission. But I worry he’ll push himself. He’s a young bot. He can only learn the hard way at this point only now.”

Altair then looked down for a moment to think. “He’s trying. Now we can only wait upon his return.” They chuckled to themself.

Optimus then spoke in his usual yet almost casual voice. A voice only Altair and others close to him hear. “Still owes you that drink him?” They then nodded with a soft smile on their dermas. They noticed that Optimus soon had a bit of a frown on his dermas. Speaking again.

”Bee has returned from the same search mission. It was a success...He’s resting right now ” Altair stared at him a moment longer. The two of them deeply cared about him.

Altair then closed their optics for a moment. Thinking about everything that happened today.

Optimus finally spoke once more. “Go wash up. And get some rest, old friend. We don’t want that blood sticking and staying on you forever.”

Altair lets out a soft sigh before standing. Bowing their helm down with their optics closed.

“Good meeting. I’ll see you in the morning, sir.”

Optimus then spoke. “Rest well…….soldier.” The spoke the last part in almost sad. Hesitating a little. The two smiled at each other.

Altair then turned away and walked towards the door. Pressing in the same passcode and walking out.

The door then closed behind him. They let out a sigh and started walking toward the cleaning stations. Passing Elita who was about to join Optimus for another meeting.

The last one for the day alongside Ironhide who didn’t need much to recharge.

He then nodded to Altair when the two passed each other. They do the same to him with a small smile.

They soon past a few other neutral bots who were in the same shower on the ship.

Altair walks into one of the parts with the three walls and a door. Cleaning themselves up. Finally getting all the blood off and showing the small scrapes on them.

After they’re finally cleaned up and dry.

They make their way to their shared berth room with Moonracer. Who was already sleeping.

Altair made sure to make their way in quietly. As quiet as they can. Soon they lay down and then looked out the window of their berth room. Watching the stars and such.

Only now it hits them of how they haven’t slept so much in so long.

Soon since tomorrow they’ll be with Optimus for certain missions and meetings. They can sleep in. At least for an extra hour.

The first meeting won’t be for a long while on that very morning.

Oh man. I’m not really a perfectionist, but I got so excited about this chapter and honestly had to make sure everything was just right before posting.

Honestly, I think I’m gonna do a sort of rewrite just to add in a few more scenes that can help with the story and honestly look forward to opinions and even some criticism along with thoughts for this first chapter. I want a lot of people to enjoy my work, but I am also aware that it’s not for everyone. Anyway, I hope you guys still enjoyed this chapter. I know I did and I hope to see many of you in the next one in a couple week.

As always a repost is appreciated and I hope to see you guys in the comments. Hope the rest of you have a good rest of your day.

Those who wished to be mentioned/tagged:

@drimmmy

@shddyboo

@shiny-sol

@redblueequalhot

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whaliiwatching · 1 year ago

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a taste of hannibal, a touch of megamind, a shot of venom (pours the whole damn bottle)

i love venom (2018) a lot, it’s my go-to movie when i’m bored or sad, i have seen it many many times. i saw it again a week or so ago with a bud and finally had the opportunity to pen down this lovely au i’ve been thinkin bout

i’ve got a much more fleshed out sketch of how this au plays out. not sure if i’ll write it yet

anyway some bullet points

noir (called, ofc, noir) arrives on earth-138 in the 1920s. his first host is robbie and they basically go through the venom movie, where noir slowly learns to love earth and humanity and all that jazz. up until the 50s or so they’re an investigative reporter and occasionally a scary vigilante superhero!

when robbie is killed (not ewaf style. i forbid it), it fucking devastates noir and he host-hops for a bit, doing fun anarchy things to keep up robbie’s legacy but also losing a few morals here and there. he can do a little murder and eat nazis as a treat

the symbiotes arrive en masse and osborn infects humans with them to turn into his fascist riot police army

through vampire-hunting-esque shenanigans, hobie and noir meet, and strike up a tenuous truce to fight the government. hobie does not like him at first, but noir very much does ;)

cue a slow burn gothic romance between a freedom fighter and a devoted monster <3

#spider man: across the spider verse #spider punk #spider noir #hobie brown #noirpunk #theyre not spiderpeople in this au lol #the issue is i can write horror but i cant draw it lhkjdsf #which is why the Funnies #and the goddamn megamind scene. which somehow perfectly fits #see the fun part about it is that noir has to always be connected to hobie in order to survive #so we have Monster Who is Recklessly Devoted to Host and Host Who is Not Into This #noir’s hat and general look come from his assimilation to humanity over the last fifty or so years. hes not like other symbiotes #hes quirky. he wears a fedora. you ever seen him without that stupid hat on that’s WEIRD #two stupid old jokes in one! i like it #anyway yeah monster noir for the win #thanks discord! yall made me rework this entirely just to make it more fucked up horror <3

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postpendulum · 1 year ago

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Some deformed jumbled mess of whatever this idea is has been rattling around in my adhd riddled brain for weeks now and I'm finally forcing myself to write it down, it is barely fleshed out in the slightest (hence, "deformed") and only the main idea is in my brain right now so I'm basically making it up as I write this so, apologies.

The Fenton parents (for whatever reason) decide that Gotham is the perfect place to spend their summer vacation, and while their there through some

💫Wacky Shananagans💫

Danny ends up meeting (omg your never gonna guess this, it's so out of this world for me, who only has one dpxdc post so far and it's this ship as well, it's so wacky and wild, blow your brains out pew pew pew)

DAMIAN!!!!!!💥💥💥💥💥💥‼‼‼‼💥💥💥💥💀💀💀💀💀:O

What the what!?!?!??!?,! WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT????? I AINT MEVER DUN DIS BEFORE!!!!!!!!

Anyway basically they have a summer romance because idk mwa mwa kissy noises gay gay homosexual gay and whathajaga

And then idk I had this that that like, I saw someone say once somethen like "damn tho the most unrealistic thing about this show is that nobody at that damn school thought Danny was hot💀" and I thought like, "damn bitch that true tho." So like idk, I thought like, I'm pretty sure its psychological fact or whatever (this gonna be damn embarrassing if that isnt true tho cuss ona my possible options ideas plans whatever for college is psychology💀) that confidants makes people more attractive, so like, ig like Danny builds confidence over the summer with you know, getting a boyfriend, Damian not taking any of that whatever bullshit idk ahjaobznaja or maybe just ghost aura shit whatever idfk whatever you want.

Basically when he goes home at back to school after summer break is over people suddenly realize "oh shit wait whys he kinda hot tho," and the fuckers like randos, maybe a-listers, whoever's just a buncha people like flirting tryna shoot their shot whatever, but then Danny's just like, thinking about how much he loves his boyfriend and how much he can't wait to see him in person again and what not. I also like to think Danny probably didn't even tell anyone at school he got a boyfriend, like maybe he even forgot to tell Sam and Tucker because he was to busy being fucking lovestruck, I mean I doubt that would actually happening and it's more likely that he'd constantly be gushing to them about Damian rather then not and I actually like that idea a lot better now that I thing about it that other one was more of a funny little side thought idk. But yeah nobody knows besides like Sam Tucker and Jazz, so yeah.

On o think that's it for me I'm done good night y'all *cue mic drop*

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nexility-sims · 5 months ago

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𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟓 ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜ | RENZO'S HOUSE, NAKAWE, OCTOBER 1991

❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Leonor stayed for a few days, treating Renzo’s guesthouse as a hideaway for avoiding the reality waiting outside its walls. Jim was there for only a blip of that time. He was more of an observer than a participant. At first Leonor found the camera blocking his face distracting, but she got used to it the way one might a deformity. It was part of him. He must have been a shy child. Maybe picking up photography gave him a way into the world—a means to navigate it, to notice without truly being seen. It soon made sense to her why he and Renzo had become friends. There was a basic similarity there, although Renzo had much worse luck at being unseeable. But, Jim’s departure was welcome. Renzo intended to go out with him, to introduce him to would-be mutual friends, but Jim ended up alone. Leonor had leaned against the kitchen counter without an ounce of guilt and watched as Renzo scrawled a list of addresses and phone numbers. ‘Pick up a pocket dictionary,’ he’d warned. ‘Your Uspanian is worse than mine, brother.’ So it was. Jim gave them a cheerful salute before he disappeared into the backyard’s foliage, and Leonor decided she admired the pluckiness of braving a foreign city, all alone and clearly out of place.

❧ this concludes a sweet three-part arc, and i think it's a good one ! partial to the bonfire wide shot, personally, but it's all nice and fluffy. (& idk what exactly she’s reading aloud but let’s say it’s faulkner, as i lay dying. rip 2 leonor.)

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

She slept through morning again the next day, waking up occasionally to find herself still alone in the bedroom, eyes squeezed shut while the sun warmed her face, determined to stay in the sheets as long as she could. At one point, she looked around as Renzo ducked into the room. He lingered by the door. That must have a been a wake-up call of sorts, or perhaps his attempt at being polite. The sound of his footsteps going downstairs receded, then the music began. It wasn’t gentle piano or upbeat jazz, as appropriate for lazy mornings, but thrashing drums and electric guitar riffs blaring, if muffled, through the floor. With her face in a pillow, Leonor smiled. ‘It just does something for me,’ he told her once. ‘Loud music. Where it hurts a little. Distracts me.’ She asked from what, and he shrugged, ‘Cravings.’ Lying in his bed with her eyes closed, she imagined him downstairs doing the same thing, perhaps on the rug or with his feet hanging off the edge of the lounge chair. He was as likely to be crouched down chewing his lefthand nails, pacing with a magazine, staring at the vinyl collection with his hands knotted in his hair.

But, she wasn’t ready to go find out what he was up to just yet. When she did get up, it was with a mission. She picked up the Polaroid camera on the bedside table and held it at arms’ length to snap a picture of herself. While it developed, she opened the drawer and rummaged around. This table was the least used of the two—the guest one, in a way. There were hard candies inside, a few pocket knives, and a datebook with nothing inside. She peeked inside the plastic shopping bag shoved behind the table’s lamp: cheap red wine and cough syrup, both unopened.

The rest of the room’s nooks and crannies held the same kind of intriguing, mundane miscellany. In the large wardrobe across from the bed, he kept the clothes he wore most often. There was a dresser elsewhere with socks, underwear, tee shirts, and party favors he didn’t leave out downstairs. His favorite leather jacket was hanging, tucked haphazardly in the center, flanked by plaid flannels and jeans. Feeling around in all of the pockets, she found empty cigarette packs, less loved lighters, spare change, loose pills and matches, and scraps of paper—circled phone numbers, stick men without faces, and titles to what she assumed were books and songs predominated. One nondescript receipt had “Call Nora,” large and underlined, on the back. Tossed on the bottom shelf, some of his beat-up boots and sneakers concealed wads of cash tucked inside them.

His books were filled with marginalia, and Leonor took pride in identifying what belonged to him and what had probably been there when he acquired it. Some were gifts. Some belonged to libraries thousands of miles away. Among some, she saw pages of a script. She scanned the dialogue and concluded she wanted to ask about it later. Was he going to transform himself into “Sam,” whom context clues suggested was very busy running a quirky jewelry emporium and impersonating his possibly deceased landlady? Leonor could imagine it. He would swallow the angst on these pages whole and do something incredible with it. It would be charming, too. Although he refused to watch it with her, she had seen his turn as a rancher with a chronically ill child and wept over it. But, she hoped he didn’t find “Sam” that appealing. It didn’t look like a Uspanian project, after all.

What piqued her interest most was packed away behind his armchair in a box of keepsakes. The binders she flipped through were photo albums. She couldn’t picture him doing any scrap-booking. Were they made for him, then? By who? She didn’t recognize anyone in the photos, except for Renzo himself. He was younger, clean shaven, usually smiling toothy grins that didn’t reach his eyes. There were also worn blankets, souvenirs from places she had never heard of, innocuous trinkets she viewed differently now that she knew the backstory behind the toy cube on top of his television set. Maybe he was what some called a pack rat, but she believed his junk all had stories attached—consequential ones that would feel to her as it from another universe.

Looking through this box, she reflected on the patchwork way his life had come together for her. He knew her biography from start to finish, with the emotional filler that accompanied recounting it. There wasn’t much to tell; it was a couple decades’ long and uneventful for, conservatively, twenty of those twenty-one years. It was less of a book and more of a pamphlet. “Born A Princess? Three Steps To Succeed.” His was longer, and she understood it as nothing but events, one after another, linked with knotted threads that looked like desperation, recklessness, craving. It wasn’t a book. It was the messy, unorganized, impenetrable cabinet of research that could become a collection of books someday, maybe. He had already lived four or five lives before she was old enough to seriously contemplate hers. Even then, she couldn’t conceive the kind of reinvention he alternatively stumbled or dove into without a second thought. Or, at any rate, she hadn’t really tried to.

What grabbed her amid the box’s treasures was a single framed photograph. She extracted it with care and held it in her hands for a long time. Music still thudded through the floor, so loud that she could feel it, but this was a peaceful moment. In the frame, what could only be his child self peeked at her from behind a notebook, and a woman who looked like his mother stared with the same heavy eyes. Only, hers were dark—browner than brown, black even, familiar in a different way.

Leonor stared at the photograph of them together until her vision blurred. She sniffed a few times and dried her eyes with the backs of her hands, letting the frame sit in her lap while she collected herself. Once she had, she stood up without much forethought and went to place it on the bedside table. There was space for it on his side, between the stack of books, alongside his ashtray and remote controller, with room to put it face down when needed. She sank to her knees. With her chin on folded arms, she resumed soaking in this rare glimpse of his first life. She struggled to picture what was beyond the frames of the photograph but tried anyway.

Her eyes drifted from his to his mother’s and back again. She did know what this woman had been like back then—a composite cobbled together from his mentionings, usually in some contrast to Leonor’s own mother, leaking unfathomable realities of his upbringing that made her balk and hold him tighter. ‘She wasn’t a bad mother,’ he claimed. ‘She’s just fucked up. Congenitally. And I am glad I got her variety of it instead of his, to be clear.’ Today, she lived in a place called Little Rock in a house Renzo bought for her. He noted that his father was with her more than ever, but that didn’t make much of a difference to anyone. 'He wants to move to Los Angeles,' Renzo recounted with a scoff. 'We told him, "Great, fuck off then!" No dice.'

As Leonor sat looking at the photograph, she wondered if there were others pictures in that house—whether she looked at them more than Renzo apparently did and whether she would agree with his assessment of their time together. Then, she tried to imagine them in a room together. There were huge windows, drenching the colorful furnishings in sunlight. In this fantasy, Leonor wore white, not because her mother had been dead for less than a year but because Renzo liked when she wore it. His mother liked her, too, and she liked Safya, who promptly breezed into the room, alive and bearing enough vitality to make up for what the three of them lacked.

At first, she suspected Renzo hadn’t noticed the photograph newly on display. That was fine, she decided. The prospect of having to explain herself sent a small chill up her spine. 'Oh, I found it' wouldn't suffice. He came into the room well after she had moved on to another, less invasive occupation. She was flipping through old music magazines on the balcony when he showed up at her shoulder, stripped down to just his white socks and announcing that she needed to come wash his hair. They could both fit in the bathtub without injury, most likely. Plus, he was proud of himself for having bought a hair dryer. It was the same one she had, in fact; that he didn’t know any other kind wasn’t important.

As they left the room so he could show her, he lingered to glance over his shoulder once, then a second time. His expression reflected in the bathroom mirror when he caught up with her was troubled, at least until their eyes met and seemed to distract him again.

[Muffled loud music, Leonor humming]

LEONOR | I’m excited to get the prints. RENZO | From Jim? Yeah. Good man. He misread you, though. LEONOR | You think so? Maybe … The candids were better.

RENZO | He wanted to impress you. Magazine spread treatment. LEONOR | Hm. It started like that, didn’t it? I’m offended, actually. RENZO | [chuckles] Oh, yeah? LEONOR | Like I can’t appreciate something simple.

RENZO | It’s an easy mistake to make, you know. LEONOR | That’s what you thought. RENZO | Big time. You wore pink sequins and a fucking tennis bracelet to a bar hang. Message loud and clear.

LEONOR | I felt ridiculous! It doesn’t come easy. I suppose it never needed to. I do like it, I really do—simplicity. Small things. Normalcy. RENZO | Normal is relative. LEONOR | You know what I mean. Like this. We have people for this. [Renzo laughs]

RENZO | I could tell—after a while, that very first night. Yeah, you started out awkward and uptight—maybe that was discomfort, maybe it was judgment—but I saw it. Genuine interest. Curiosity. Fucking rare.

LEONOR | Really? RENZO | You’re complicated, Nora. So sincere it makes me sad sometimes. Sweet—bittersweet. And surprising. I love that about you.

LEONOR | It would be better if you read it. I can’t do the accent. RENZO | Drawl. It’s a drawl. Anyway, I like listening. Doing this. LEONOR | Being together. RENZO | Being together.

LEONOR | Speaking of … I wanted to ask something. Hear me out?

LEONOR | I want to go to an event with you. Not one of mine; one of yours. Something real. Professional. That you care about. Maybe there’s nothing anytime soon, but when there is … I want to be there.

LEONOR | What? Is that crazy? RENZO | No, it’s not. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. LEONOR | Why? RENZO | You know why.

LEONOR | You don’t want to reconsider. RENZO | Don’t know.

LEONOR | Do you remember Arturo? RENZO | [sighs] Sure. LEONOR | The worst part about … all of that? I ended things where there was no way he’d get any closure—at all. I just kicked him out. He was going to go weep for Mama, with my family. That was certain. Then, I made him nothing with a few words.

LEONOR | Eventually, it occurred to me that it wasn’t actually an impulsive choice. Having him around that morning made me feel awful—I wanted to crawl out of my skin just looking at him; isn’t that terrible?—but … Grief makes it all bigger, doesn’t it? RENZO | It does, yeah. Too big. LEONOR | Five years. Living Mama’s life. I didn’t want to marry him. I don’t want to marry anyone. I told myself, later, that he must’ve known —felt it?—so it was okay. Not explaining or apologizing. Hurting him .

LEONOR | I gave him everything. I didn’t owe him anything else. He could figure that out on his own. RENZO | Alright, a little fucked up. LEONOR | [chuckles] Yeah. Not that I regret anything.

LEONOR | Don’t do that to me. I don’t need a promise, reassurances, whatever. It’s a request, that’s all. When the time comes, do it with your eyes wide open, okay?

LEONOR | —seriously, you could put on a dress shirt but not pants or shoes? I bet it’s a stunt. I think you like the attention. RENZO | Me? You know me better than that.

RENZO | Can’t a man be comfortable in his own yard? [Leonor laughs]

RENZO | I wish you didn’t have to leave. Wish you could stay in bed all day instead of talking to some fucking journalist for television. LEONOR | Me too. But it’s work. I have to go. Reality calls.

RENZO | This one isn’t just work. It’s going to hurt. Not ready, are you? LEONOR | Do you have to ask? RENZO | You didn’t bring it up again. Last opportunity.

LEONOR | [whispers] It’s so close. A year. It didn’t feel like anything—I knew it would happen, that’s all—and now I can feel it. Right here, in my chest. Bigger and bigger. RENZO | I know. LEONOR | Will it always be like this? RENZO | Yes. Sometimes it gets easier. Sometimes it doesn’t.

LEONOR | And if it doesn’t? RENZO | You can handle it. LEONOR | How do you know that? RENZO | Hell if I know. Being beat over the head with life experience. Knowing you. Lucky guess? Gut feelings are truth, usually.

RENZO | No tears. You’ll mess up your eyeliner. LEONOR | It’s okay. They all want to see me cry anyway. RENZO | Yeah, well, fuck that—I don’t.

LEONOR | Maybe later? Ruin my eyeliner, I mean. RENZO | Happy tears, sure. We can arrange that. LEONOR | Good. I need something to look forward to.

#ts4 story #sims story #sims 4 story #royal sims #simblr #ts4 legacy #1992.story.post #1992.a1 #1992.e04

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nichuuu · 2 years ago

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Beats Me - 1: Squeaker

Shin Ryujin

Tags: Smut, Subby Ryujin, Teasing, Foreplay, Really shitty story

Words: 5k+

You weren’t afraid to admit that you’ve never felt so lost in all your life.

The university campus was sprawling as it was, but in the midst of trying to find the recording studio, you’ve somehow found that this place seemed to be bigger than it was. The halls seemed to constantly shift themselves, twisting and warping the layout of the campus as you struggled to locate that damn Arts block.

After about 20 minutes of sheepishly asking for directions, craning your head to look at signs that always seemed to be pointing in the wrong way and lots of cussing, you finally managed to locate the studio—15 minutes later than you were supposed to reach—and frantically knocked on the door. The muffled music coming from inside stopped.

The heavy looking oak door swung open.

“The fuck do you want?” The girl at the door crudely asked.

“H-Hi… I’m uh… I’m here to try out for the band?” You meekly replied.

She scanned you up and down.

“You’re the squeaker drummer?” She questioned. You didn’t exactly know what the word squeaker meant, but you nodded nonetheless.

“Y-Yeah…” You said. She checked her watch.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” she remarked.

“S-Sorry… Got lost…” You apologised. She shot you a glare.

“Getting lost isn’t an excuse, you should’ve—”

“God dammit Yeji! Just let the damn boy inside!” A voice came from within. The lady in front of you—who you assumed was Yeji—shut her mouth, her lips forming a thin line.

You were scared of her already.

“Get in and get your ass on the drum kit,” the scary woman barked, stepping aside to let you in.

You’ve never run into a room so quickly in your life.

You stepped in, quickly noting that the entire room was full of girls. They all stared at you, and you gave a shy bow before haul assing towards the vacant drum set and setting your bag down. You contemplated on adjusting the height of your seat, but the fact that you could still feel that lady glaring at you made you think otherwise.

You unzipped your bag and pulled out your drumsticks.

“Do you have an iPad or anything we can use to give you your charts?” The scary lady asked, shutting the door.

“Uh… No,” You replied. She sighed and shook her head.

“Hopeless” She muttered.

Not the best first impression. You thought to yourself.

“Yeji, Don’t you feel like you’re scaring him a little?” The woman behind the microphone voiced her opinion.

“I would treat him better if he was on time,” Yeji hissed.

“You and your ‘Professionalism’,” The lady behind the microphone sighed. She turned to you.

“Hello! Sorry for the… Harsh welcome,” She said. “What’s your name?”

“O-Oh uh… M-Myeong-seok,” you stammered.

“Nice to meet you Myeong-seok,” She smiled. “Just do your best today, we’ll see how you fair.”

You nodded and picked up your sticks. The lady behind the microphone turned back to the front.

“It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You, from the top!” She announced.

Having played that song before, you found yourself with new found confidence as you sat up straight in your stool.

You said a silent prayer before the guitar riff came, launching you into the first song.

The session went better than expected. Even though you felt like a toddler lost in a supermarket half the time, you managed to grasp a basic beat through most of the songs they played. They did some Rock, some pop, did some jazz and a few other funky genres you weren’t too familiar with, but you never stopped to ask questions, fearing another tongue lashing from Yeji.

To your delight, you managed to secure your spot as their new drummer. The news came like a spark of joy, but the spark was instantly extinguished by Yeji, who informed you that the band was to do a gig at a nearby bar in a week's time. You had exactly one week to get your shit together, learn the pieces and memorise your charts.

“No stress,” The Bassist unhelpfully added. She looked scary too.

You’d gotten a grasp of their names. Guitarist 1 was a girl they called “Kkura”, the pianist’s name was Ji-min, or “Karina” as they called her at times. Guitarist 2 was scary lady Yeji, the Bassist Ryujin and the vocalist Eunbi. You prayed you got their names right.

The band practised on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, each practice starting at 4pm sharp. You took note of that, noting from your earlier interaction with Yeji that she despised tardiness.

“Be punctual or I’ll have your head on a pike,” Yeji snarled before leaving the room with her guitar strapped to her back.

“Don’t mind her, she’s a little moody today,” Eunbi assured you. You could only nod, the fear leaving your body as soon as Yeji walked out the door. Eunbi proceeded to toss you a set of keys.

“Keys to the studio, everyone gets one set.” She explained. “Come in whenever you want to practise. Just don’t break anything in here or the school will have us knee deep in debt.”

You stared at the keys in your hand, processing the fact that you were now a part of a legitimate… Well… Somewhat legitimate band.

“See you this Friday Myeong-seok,” Eunbi waved.

“S-See you!” You waved back. She left the room together with Ji-min, leaving you alone with Ryujin who was still busy winding up her wire. You decided to leave her to it, pocketing the keys to the studio and slipping your sticks back into your bag. Being as silent as you could, you shouldered your backpack and got up to leave.

“Yo squeaker.”

She was staring right at you. You could feel it.

As mentioned before, she struck you as a scary person, with her bob cut and leather jacket giving you the vibe of an 80s gang member. She looked ike the type of girl who would beat you up for staring for too long. You slowly turned to face the bassist, and you were pleasantly surprised to find a smile on her face.

“Good stuff today… You were pretty sick on the kit,” She complimented.

“O-Oh… T-Thanks?” You replied, failing to hide the fear in your voice.

“Chill man, I won’t eat you,” She assured you, sensing your tension. “Do I really look that scary? Is it the jacket?”

You hesitated before nodding a little. She smirked and shrugged it off her shoulders.

“I wear it cause I’m cold. But if it makes you afraid of me, I’ll take it off,” She mused, the black leather slipping off her shoulders to reveal the crop top beneath it. “Name’s Ryujin by the way.”

“I uh… I kinda know….” You told her nervously. She raised her eyebrows.

“You are one sharp feller,” She remarked.

“Well… I… I just… Listen,” You explained. The short-haired girl scoffed.

“Don’t we all?”

You managed a chuckle, finding yourself easing up a little.

Maybe she wasn’t so scary…

“You free tomorrow Squeaker?” She asked, zipping the bag containing her bass guitar shut.

“W-Why?” You couldn’t help but inquire.

“I wanna practise with you. Bassists and Drummers go hand in hand, I need your cues and your beat to help me,” She explained, slinging her bass over her shoulder. “Think you can come in at around 2:30pm?”

You quickly ran through tomorrow's schedule in your head. Lectures ended by 2pm tomorrow, leaving you ample time to get to the studio.

“S-Sure… I can make it,” You agreed. Ryujin flashed you a smile.

“Coolsies. See you tomorrow then,” she said, giving you finger guns. You weren’t quite sure what to do, so you replied with a nervous thumbs up. She laughed and punched your shoulder lightly.

“Ease up bucko, we don’t bite,” She winked. “Lock up, for me okay Squeaker?”

You nodded. Ryujin waved before swaggering out of the room, helping you switch off the lights on the way out.

She seems chill. You thought to yourself, fishing the keys out of your pocket. You exited the room and locked the door, marking the end of your day as you headed off towards the exit. The sun had begun to set on the campus by the time you walked out of the gates.

“2:30pm… 2:30pm…” You muttered to yourself over and over as you set off. You vowed not to be late.

The next day rolled around. You sat through lectures as usual, listening to your Prof drone on and on about something related to ethics, or maybe it was morals…

Hell, it was so convoluted you didn’t know anymore.

As soon as 2pm struck, you were up and out of your seat, heading towards the exit. The beauty of not having a good professor was the fact that they couldn’t care less about when you left their lectures.

You made your way to the recording studio with much less difficulty this time. Unlocking the door, you stepped in and turned on the lights and air conditioning, the practice space whirring to life as you shut the door—which was as heavy as it looked—behind you. You beelined it for the kit and fished your sticks out of your bag. You got out your tuning key, which you brought today since the kit sounded like shit the day before, and got to work on adjusting the kit. Yes… You have to tune drum sets too, you know?

When you finished, there was still 20 minutes till Ryujin was due to arrive, so you settled on getting some practice in. Luckily for you, you happened to bring your charts that you painstakingly printed last night (that hole in your wallet will never be patched) and set the folder containing the sheets down on the score stand.

You quickly got to work, doing your thing on the kit as you waited patiently for Ryujin to arrive. She came in 10 minutes later than she should have, something that Yeji would’ve definitely killed her over, but thank god she wasn’t here.

“My bad Squeaker. Prof decided to go on a tangent about his divorce,” She apologised, setting her Bass Guitar down on the couch and unzipping the bag containing it.

“And how are we today?” She asked, pulling her instrument out its bag.

“Good… I guess,” You replied.

“Splendid,” She answered in English with a British accent. You chuckled at the randomness of the girl.

You waited patiently for her to hook her instrument up, fiddling with your drumsticks as she slug her Bass over her shoulder and plucked a string, a deep note filtering out of the amp behind her.

“That is sexy,” She mused, nodding her head in approval. “Alright Squeaker, let’s get to work.”

She made herself comfortable on the couch, kicking the excess wire off her foot before signaling that she was ready to begin.

The session went as you expected, the two of you going through each piece and taking notes on your respective scores. At some point, Ryujin stopped to get a sandwich from downstairs, but she was kind enough to get you an iced Americano.

“This is on me,” She said, tossing you the bottle that contained your beverage. You set your sticks down just in time to catch the bottle before it could hit you square in the face. Ryujin cackled at her bad throw before getting back to her instrument.

You went on afterwards, rejuvenated by the coffee bought by Ryujin as the two of you continued with practice. As goofy as she could be, Ryujin was surprisingly skilled with her instrument, hitting catchy fills and a few high-skill licks that left you wide eyed. You got the chance to mess around for a bit, pulling some shenanigans of your own on the kit that got nods of approval from your practice buddy.

“Good shit today,” She sighed with satisfaction as the two of you packed up for the day. It was somehow already late in the evening.

You hummed in agreement, neatly getting your scores back in order and getting them back inside your bag.

“Let’s get dinner, my treat,” Ryujin suggested.

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna waste your money,” you politely declined.

“Wasn’t an offer. We’re getting dinner Squeaker,” She grinned. She never seemed to run out of surprises…

You locked the room up and set off with Ryujin, settling on a tonkatsu place near campus. She ordered a round of alcohol for the two of you.

“So… How long have you been drumming for Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, sipping her glass of beer.

“For a few years now… Started when I was eight,” You answered. “Took some classes for a while then stopped because of money issues, but I joined Concert Band in middle school and highschool. They had kits there so I just practised.”

Ryujin raised her eyebrows, nodding in approval. You decided to try your hand at carrying a conversation, something you were never really good at.

“W-What about you? H-How long have you been playing Bass?” You asked. Ryujin took another sip of beer.

“Me? Not too long… Started a few years back after graduating from College. Wanted to do something with my life, you know?” She replied, wiping the foam off her mouth.

You nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of your beer. You understood what she meant.

“Besides, playing Bass was a good substitute for sleeping with guys,” She added out of nowhere. The TMI statement almost made you choke on your beer.

“W-What?” You coughed, flabbergasted. Ryujin shrugged.

“I was fresh out of high school and lonely as fuck okay?” She defended herself. “I slept with a couple of guys… And maybe one or two girls… But I needed something to do didn’t I?”

You didn’t know how to respond, and you preferred to keep it that way.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She interrogated you. “It wasn’t even my fault half the time! I just had a few drinks with the guy, and the next thing you know it I’m being railed on my hands and knees. I don’t even know how I got there, honest.”

No words could describe how you felt about the sharp turn this conversation had taken.

“Come on Squeaker, stop giving me that look,” She sighed, picking up her beer cup and swirling the liquid gently. “For all you know, what I described might just happen tonight…”

“MOVING ON!” You exclaimed, almost in a scream. Your attempt to change the subject of the conversation earned you a few nasty glares from members of the public, but you’d rather be shamed than talking about sex with a girl you just met yesterday. You had done the deed once with your ex, but you didn’t particularly derive any sort of pleasure from speaking about the subject.

Ryujin giggled to herself and sat back in her seat.

“Alright alright… You’re uncomfortable, I get it,” Ryujin teased in a sing-song voice. The blush on your face was un-concealable as you kept your eyes glued to the beer in front of you.

“How did you find out about us Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, deciding to drive the conversation back towards music. You inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, finding the courage to look Ryujin in the eye again.

“W-Well uh… Someone handed me a flyer for your band during orientation and—”

“Hold the fucking phone,” Ryujin stopped you. “Orientation? You’re a freshie?”

“U-Uh… Yea… Military Service,” You explained.

“God damn! That means you’re older than me!” She mused.

“W-What? H-How does this affect anything?” You inquired.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Who said anything about affecting shit?” She asked. “I’m just making an observation Squeaker.”

Your hopes of her ceasing to call you “Squeaker” were dashed. You’d have to live with the nickname from now on.

“Sorry for interrupting, you were talking about flyers?” Ryujin urged you to continue.

“R-Right,” You continued, getting back on track from where you left off. “I saw the flyer, saw that you guys needed a drummer, so I contacted… Eunbi I think… Who’s phone number was on the flyer?”

“Eunbi’s” Ryujin confirmed.

“Right, yea… So… That’s how I got the try out I guess…” You said. Ryujin looked unimpressed.

“Wow… That was far from what I expected,” She told you flatly. “I was thinking that you had some moral conflict or something, but no. You just saw the flyer and decided to go for it?”

“U-Uh… Yea…” You answered, unsure how you’d disappointed her.

“Ew, boring,” She said rather bluntly. “What took you so long to come in then? We’re in the middle of the first semester.”

“Uh… Eunbi… Eunbi didn’t reply to me till last week…” You explained.

“That’s pretty fucking hilarious,” Ryujin sniggered. You shrugged.

“It is what it is,” You said frankly.

At that juncture, the waiter came with your food. Two plates of freshly fried Tonkatsu, paired with a bowl of steamed rice, was laid on the table.

“Oh damn… This looks good,” Ryujin remarked, a hint of glee in her voice. You agreed with her, but you just didn’t vocalise the opinion. Ryujin handed you a set of cutlery from the drawer on her end.

“Dig in Squeaker,” She told you as you took the cutlery from her. You didn’t need to be told twice.

The food was as delicious as it looked, and it went perfectly with the icy beer that you sipped intermittently.

The breaded cutlet disappeared from both your plates almost as quickly as it came. The speed at which you both wolfed down that meal was a little worrying for you, but the satisfaction derived from that meal somehow seemed to neutralise all that. Satisfied with the food, Ryujin called for the bill.

“Hey… Let me pay for a little bit of it at least,” You offered.

“Nope, my treat,” She declined.

True to her word, Ryujin made the waiter stay far away from you as she handed over her card. As much as your morals gnawed at your conscience to pay Ryujin for the cost of your meal, a small voice in your head knew that she’d just reject it.

The bill came back, and the waiter returned Ryujin her credit card. With a smile, she thanked the staff and kept her card.

“Thanks Ryujin,” You said. She waved it off.

“No worries Squeaker,” She grinned, standing up from her seat. “If you don’t mind, could you help me with my Bass? Might need you to carry it home for me.”

You quickly got up and helped her carry her Bass guitar. It was the least you could do to repay her for her generosity.

“Thanks Squeaker. My apartment isn't too far from here, just help me carry it till we get there,” She said, gathering her things.

“Damn… You have an apartment?” You asked.

“Parents wanted me out of the house so badly that they bought me one,” She explained, a proud smirk on her face.

“W-What? Why?”

She looked you in the eye.

“I brought home too many boys for their liking,” She simply said, adding a wink at the end of her sentence. “Come on, Squeaker! Help me carry this damn guitar back so you can get home before midnight!”

You travelled a few streets down, Ryujin’s Bass slung over your shoulder as you followed her back to her apartment complex. The weight of the guitar made you understand the pain of actually needing to bring your own instrument from home.

You made it back to her apartment. You knew her remark of getting you home by midnight was a lie when she pulled you in together with her.

“You can leave your shoes here,” She instructed, shutting her apartment door behind her.

“I really don’t think I should be here…” You began.

“Oh for fucks sake Squeaker. Stop being so nervous about everything!” She teased.

You could only sigh and slide off your sneakers. Ryujin’s apartment was small but cosy, and surprisingly neat as well. She had all sorts of vintage posters decorating her walls, a couple of fairy lights adorning the window sill and a few photos on her shelves and cabinets. You spotted an amp in the corner of the room, and you figured that you should place the Bass Guitar down.

“What can I fix you up with? Booze? Juice? Tea?” Ryujin asked, walking over to her fridge and opening it up. You headed over to the amp to set down her guitar.

“Tea sounds nice,” You said.

“Booze it is!” Ryujin called back.

“I said—Ah never mind…” You sighed, a gut feeling telling you that there was no point in arguing.

After placing down her Bass, she invited you to have a seat on her couch. She had a few cans of beer in her arms that she set down on the coffee table.

She cracked open two cans, handing one to you and taking one for herself before relaxing on her couch. You sat there rigidly, both hands on the cold can.

“Why are you so tense?” Ryujin questioned. “Am I making you nervous?”

“N-No… I’m just… Jittery when it comes to new things and new people… It’s in my blood,” You explained. She smirked.

“That’s why we have alcohol dude,” She reasoned, tapping the beer can in your hand. “Drink up, loosen up!”

She clinked cans with you and guzzled down the entire can, shooting you a look that pressure you to do the same. You hesitantly raised the lip of the can to your mouth and tipped it back. The cold, icy and bitter beverage flowed into your mouth, burning your throat on its way down.

“There you go, that’s the spirit!” Ryujin encouraged you as you gulped down what was left of the first can. Your outings with your platoon had built up your alcohol tolerance, but you still weren’t exactly the best when it came to alcohol.

“Good job. Now have another can,” Ryujin said, cracking open two more cans and handing one to you.

“I don’t think I should—”

“Just fucking fucking drink it.”

The second can turned into a third, and the third can into a fourth. By the fifth can, you were starting to get a little woozy, and you knew that you should stop. Ryujin however, seemed to be very against that.

The sixth can went down easily, and the seventh even easier.

You didn’t know how it happened, but you somehow found yourself stripped down to your undies in Ryujin’s bedroom, furiously making out with her. Her tongue explored the insides of your mouth hungrily, the taste of beer still in her mouth. This entire day had been a trap, but you just didn’t know it.

Her mouth left yours, a thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you as she gazed into your eyes. A smirk tugged up the corner of her lip as she slowly got down on her knees. Her sports bra supporting her bust gave you an excellent view of her plunging cleavage as she tugged down your boxers. Your cock sprung out from its restraints, twitching out in the open as Ryujin grasped a hold of it, slender fingers wrapping around your length as she pumped your cock. She licked her lips in delight.

She wasted no time in wrapping her lips around your cock and taking you straight into the depths of her mouth. The eye contact she maintained with you almost drove you over the edge as she rocked back and forth, building a steady pace as she slurped on your dick. Her hands supported themselves on your thighs as she drove you deeper and deeper, the head of your cock poking the entrance to her throat. You couldn’t bear to keep watching her bob up and down your cock for too long, and you forced yourself to look up. The moans leaving your mouth kept coming in a steady stream, your hands finding themselves entangled in locks of Ryujin’s hair as the woman you just met yesterday devoured your shaft. Her tongue busied itself, swirling around your sensitive head and delivering occasional flicks to the underside of your member. She was clearly experienced in giving head.

“Jesus Ryujin…” You managed to moan through the haze of your tipsiness and pleasure. Ryujin lets your cock pop out of her mouth, stroking your shaft—now slick with her saliva—with a corkscrew motion.

“My mouth is good… But playing Bass over the years has made my hands even better,” She giggles. Her fingers grip your throbbing shaft tighter, her palm pressing into the underside as she forces you to watch her stroke you. She shifts the pressure to her pointer finger and thumb, squeezing the tip of your sensitive head. Your head whips back, your mouth opening wide to let out a soft sigh.

“That’s it squeaker… Moan for me…” Ryujin encouraged, increasing the intensity of her hand’s assault on your penis. “Tell me how good my hand feels…”

“Fuck… It’s so damn good,” You hiss through your teeth. That smirk crosses her face again.

“That’s what I thought…” She whispers. “But enough of this foreplay… I want this inside me.”

She lets go of your cock, a move that was both disappointing yet somehow relieving to you as she gets up on her feet. Ryujin makes quick work of her sports bra, tossing it into the growing pile of clothes before quickly pulling down her panties and kicking them away. You now knew what was hiding below that leather jacket…

It was safe to say that Ryujin could easily make a man throb just by looking at her body. Her curves were in all the right places, her snatched waist accentuating her figure and that round, plump ass looking ever so delectable. Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you gonna keep fucking me with your eyes? Or are you gonna get over here and fuck me for real?” She asked. You didn’t need a second invitation to walk over and grip her waist firmly. Your cock pressed against her defined abs, the skin in contact with your slick dick glistening as traces of her own saliva are left on her. She gripped you by your cock and pulled you over to the bed, where she laid down on her back and spread her legs wide. The pink flesh of her glistening pussy was a sight to behold, her folds slick with her fluids and the insides of her thighs flushed with arousal.

“You can eat me out another day,” She hissed, reading your thoughts. “Just put your cock in me and fuck me like an animal.”

While the former statement made you slightly disappointed, the latter was too appealing to be turned down.

You were above Ryujin in a matter of seconds. Her hand held onto the base of your shaft, lining your head up with her entrance. Giving you the slightest of nods, you popped your hips and buried yourself inside her tight body, entering the Bassist for the first time.

A sharp gasp left her lips, her legs wrapping around your waist. Her heels pushed you deeper into her tight little cunt, her slick warm walls gripping you firmly as she whispered into your ear.

“Fuck me.”

You weren’t sure where you found the strength in you, maybe it was the alcohol messing with you. You pounded Ryujin mercilessly, her body rocking violently with each thrust as her cute tits jiggled deliciously. The cries that left her mouth mixed well together with the background of skin slapping against skin. The squelch that came from your cock entering her over and over again was one of pure lewdness, akin to music in your ears.

You found a steady pace, fucking Ryujin with long hard strokes. Her eyes widened with each entrance, a sigh and the occasional cuss leaving her mouth every time you drove yourself into her wet little pussy relentlessly. Ryujin was a beautiful mess beneath you, and she also seemed to be very vocal when she wasn’t mewling into your shoulder.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck… That’s it… Squeaker… Fuck my little pussy…”

Her body bounced deliciously, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head as her moans began increasing in intensity and volume. Her bed creaked in protest, rattling and shaking under the force of your thrusts. Ryujin dug her nails into your back, an outlet to release the pleasure that crashed into her body in rapid waves.

As much as you wanted to fuck Ryujin like this forever, her skillful foreplay mere minutes ago didn’t allow you to last too long inside the bliss that was Ryujin’s pussy.

“Ryujin… I’m… I’m gonna cum,” You grunted. She managed a smirk that quickly twisted into a lewd expression as he slammed back into her.

“On me… Cum… On me…” She rasped.

Your pace quickened, each breath you took becoming shallower and shallower as you pumped yourself furiously into Ryujin’s tight body. The pressure continued to build at the base of your cock, slowly working its way up from your tingling balls to the tip of your cock. A few thrusts later, you finally couldn’t take it and withdrew yourself out of Ryujin’s cunt. You furiously stroke your shaft with your right hand, and with one, two, three pumps, you explode onto Ryujin’s hot body. Her abs become the canvas for your load, hot bursts of semen painting her abdomen in ropes of white as your orgasm takes you. Your hand never stops stroking your cock, pushing out rope after rope of your seed as you empty yourself onto Ryujin. She sighs softly with each shot onto her, closing her eyes to savour the feel of your warm cum splattering her body.

It takes you a while to recover from your high, but Ryujin was patient enough to wait for you, idly playing with the cum on her tummy as she watched you with a smirk.

“Was… I that good?” She giggled. You managed a nod.

“Amazing…” You breathe. She sits up on the bed.

“Then you’re in for round two of this amazing experience.”

She got up and bent herself over her desk.

Your still hard shaft throbbed at the sight of her round, plump ass protruded out and ready to be taken.

“I want you to make me cum like this… And don’t you dare stop till I’m a screaming mess,” She hissed aggressively.

Rejuvenated by her lewd words, you get up and take your position behind her. With an open palm, you deliver a slap to her right ass cheek, enjoying the sight of the plump flesh rippling from the impact. Ryujin clicks her tongue in annoyance.

“Quit playing with my ass and rail me Squeaker,” She growls.

“Impatient are we?” You ask. She shoots you a glare.

“When did you start talking so much?” She asked.

“When did you start being such a slut?” You fired back.

“I’m not a slut,” She argued.

“Then what are you?” You questioned. That seemed to make Ryujin think for a bit.

You decided to use that window to surprise her.

“I’m a—FUCK!” She screamed, her snarky response cut off by you penetrating her once more. She somehow felt even tighter in this position.

“Got you,” You grinned, your cock throbbing inside her wet, slick heat. She glares at you and opens her mouth to try and say something, but her words turn into a moan when you slam back into her, the delicious flesh of her ass rippling as the base of your crotch makes contact with her juicy cheeks.

“You have a great ass Ryujin,” You compliment her.

“T-Thank you…” She manages. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

“As you wish,” You reply.

Reaching forward, you grasp a palmful of her tits and give it a squeeze. She supports herself against her desk as you begin to rock her body once more, drilling yourself deeper and deeper into her pussy. Her moans fill the room, a delicious arc of her back forming as she tilts her head back to look you in the eyes.

“Pull… My hair…”

Happy to follow through with her request, you make a makeshift ponytail with a handful of her dark hair and yank back. She lets out a sharp gasp, her walls tightening as you clench your fist tighter around the lock of hair.

“Yes yes yes yes…” She pants, eyes half lidded with pleasure as she struggles to grip the desk properly. Her walls were tightening around you by the second.

You pull back harder on her hair, pulling her upright. You wrap one arm in front of her, pulling her towards you. Her back flushes against your chest, her eyelids snapping open as she makes eye contact with you.

“I’m cumming… Oh god I’m fucking cumming…” She gasps, gripping your forearms in a vice grip.

She continues to let unfiltered gasps leave her throat before she finally reaches her high. Like the beautiful mess she already was, she screams at the top of her lungs, her insides clenching onto your cock as she twitches in your arms. You fuck her relentlessly through her orgasm, chasing your own high as your sensitive member feel every pulse, every twitch of her freshly fucked pussy, your cock spearing her repeatedly. You fuck her twitching body like there was no tommorow, hips thrusting furiously till you hit your second orgasm for the night.

Pulling your dick out just in time, resting it on her plump ass and stroking yourself to completion. Her butt glistens with your cum, some of the slimy, slick fluid sliding off the curve of her round bottom and dripping onto the floor. Your shaft glistens with your mixed juices.

You both struggle to catch your breaths, panting against each other as you rest your head on Ryujin’s shoulder.

“Tell… Tell no one about this… Got it?” Ryujin manages to pant after some time. You nod weakly against her, fully drained this time. She slips out of your arms and wraps a hand around your waist.

“Come on… Squeaker… Looks like you’ll be crashing with me tonight…”

You didn’t have any energy to argue against her, so you join her in crashing into her mattress and settling in for the night. As sleep took over your body, you felt Ryujin cuddling up against you.

“We… We’ll talk about this tomorrow…” She whispers. “Goodnight Squeaker.”

You managed a one-worded reply.

“Night…”

Your eyelids flutter shut as you fall into the welcome arms of rest.

_________________________________________

What is popping. I’m not dead guys, I just don’t use tumblr as much (I swear I’ll try and be a little more active). Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this one and I apologise if it’s bad, I read through it once and decided: Eh... Fuck it, let’s post. Contemplating on making this a series if you guys like it enough. I suck at smut so I’m not too sure if this even has the quality to be a series but eh... I’ll leave it to democracy to decide if this is worthy enough. You guys let me know if you want to see this turn into a series.

Have a nice day :))

Also, Legend for some of the terms I used:

Squeaker: Newbie. I stole it from Whiplash lol.

Charts: Slang for sheet music. Also referred to as “Scores”

Snare: The goofy part of the drum set that gives you the funny “Kat” sound. I think google will explain it better.

Tuning Key: Key that tunes. (Wow!!!)

Score stand: The thing that holds your sheet music

#kpop #itzy #smut #ryujin #mature

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