#like why does every scene that's not in the dark have some weird glow? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beomglocks · 4 years ago

Text

sleepover ; c.sb

summary : it's time to figure out where to sleep for the night. part 3 of dilf soob chronicles. send ask for more hehehe <3

pairing : dilf neighbor!soobin x (legal)!reader

warnings & other : smut, oral-fem receiving, threesome(?), some fingering, requested, DON'T read if you're uncomfortable with age gaps, daddy kink, (i just got out of having this kink but it was requested so why not), dirty talk, some beomgyu (no incest), slight possessiveness, this ones for the dilf soob shooters, a bit of somnophilia, soobin possible brat tamer moment, idk lol , semi proof read

w/c : ~3000 (long for no reason)

“alright funs over kids,” soobin yawns as if he wasn’t just trying to finger you a half hour ago. beomgyu rolls his eyes as he stretches and you just look at the man beside you in bewilderment.

“kids?” you ask. you raise your eyebrow at him. it’s only about 1am which wasn’t too late for you. that and the fact that you feel like you were left bothered when soobin didn’t finish what he started earlier. you figure beomgyu wouldn’t be tired at this time either but soobin on the other hand-

you had to hold back a remark about him suddenly being so fatherly when it seemed like he was ok with fucking you right in front of his son earlier.

“yes kids,” he smirks. you hate that he’s teasing you right now. that was the thing about mr. choi that drew you in every time. one thing you had learned from being around mr. choi was that this man was a tease. perhaps it was because you were used to being around people your age who were much more straightforward with their advances but either way it made you want to do more and more.

you push those thoughts to the back of your brain for when the moment arises and hold back the urge to roll your eyes in front of his face. is this what beomgyu is used to?

“daddy’s taking his kids to bed, isn’t this fun,” he offhandedly says as he jokes with his son while you sit and wait for further instructions on where to sleep. maybe he thought you wouldn’t hear him but what- did he just refer to himself as daddy? you didn’t know that hearing him say that would have such an effect on you.

if you didn’t know whether or not you had a daddy kink well this moment just confirmed it. what would it take to make him refer to himself like that again?

“daddy?” you blurt without thinking. shit- beomgyu wouldn’t think that’s weird right? you were just reiterating what was said. you could play it off as being confused as to why his “playful father” was talking to his clearly grown son in such a way.

soobin pauses and takes a while to turn to you. perhaps hearing you say that affected him too. daddy? saying it himself wasn’t such a big deal because he didn’t think much of it but coming from your lips made him want to hear it more. he could get used to that sound.

“yeah...” soobin thinks out loud to himself for a moment. he could make use of this. you think your heart or something else pounds at the way soobin is looking at you right now. he looks like he has plans to eat you out right then and there but you can tell he’s holding himself back.

“yeah, daddy’s gonna take his kids to bed,” his reiterates with emphasis on the word daddy and bed. “is that ok with you y/n?”

you nod silently, suddenly giddy at the thought of finally being alone with mr. choi uninterrupted for sure this time.

“where will y/n sleep?” beomgyu asks. “i think i have the inflatable bed still in my-“

soobin cuts his son off with a click of his tongue. “i can’t have two adolescents of opposite genders sleeping in the same room together, that’s controversial.”

you subtly raise your eyebrow at him. essentially your entire relationship, if you could even call it that, was controversial. however, you were interested to see how he would play this off. it’s clear soobin wants you to himself tonight.

beomgyu almost looks like he wants to speak up to shut down the mere idea of you both fooling around alone but mr. choi continues.

“i can’t just leave y/n alone on the couch in the living room, that’s not safe. since there really are no other spare rooms i guess she’ll have to sleep in my room?”

this was true. soobin thought ahead to a plethora of different excuses as to get you in his room without coming off as suspicious. he remembered that thankfully all of the junk they had during the move was shoved into various spare rooms around the house with no space or option of clearing out a room for guests.

“i will sleep on the couch,” soobin annouces valiantly. beomgyu takes a moment to process this and takes you a bit of time too.

you thought soobin would make some lame excuse about having you sleep on the floor in his room or something to have to you near him so you’re left dumbfounded and somewhat frustrated at his thought process. he’s gonna leave me alone in his room? wasn’t the point for us to fuck?

“that sounds fair,” beomgyu concludes. he doesn’t think much of it because why would he. his father is sleeping on the couch and his neighbor is sleeping soundly in a different room. no need to get suspicious.

“well, have a good night,” beomgyu gives both of you a tight lipped smile, mainly aiming it at you and you return it kindly. i sure will.

beomgyu strides off to his room, leaving you and his father in the living room. “my beds quite comfortable but let me know if you need anything else,” he says, setting up the couch as his makeshift bed.

you look down at it. yeah, he’s definitely taller than the couch so it will be a bitch for him to sleep on that throughout the night. “i need you,” you shyly mumble. you hear him laugh a bit and look up.

he’s still wearing his work clothes except the white collared shirt has some buttons popped off and his pants have become wrinkled and baggy from wear.

you move closer to him and start to unbutton his shirt for him so that he gets comfortable. he looks between both your eyes and smiles. you almost tiptoe to reach his mouth but steps away for a minute.

“ill meet you there,” he says as he starts to set up the couch for himself. you hold back a frustrated sigh and soobin raises his brow at you. typical teen behavior.

“i’ll be asleep before you even get to the door,” you mumble impatiently. “i’ll surprise you then,” he says. “don’t be a brat.”

you roll your eyes, walking away from him to head to where you’ll be sleeping which is his room. he watches you walk away with a shake of his head. what will he do with you?

in the meantime, he sets up the living space to make it look like he was sleeping for a while in case beomgyu walks downstairs or something. he would make it look like he was sleeping and woke up to get something from his room, simple.

he didn’t even know why he felt the need to sneak around his son. he was an adult and could do what he wanted essentially. he sucks his teeth trying to not think too hard about it at the moment.

once he’s done, soobin knocks on his bedroom door lightly. while waiting for you to answer he looks around the hall. he can faintly see beomgyu's light still turned on and wonders for a moment what he could still be doing awake.

he doesn’t have time to ponder on it because all he wants is you right now. he narrows his eyes back at his door when a couple of minutes pass with no sign from you.

why is he even knocking, it’s his room after all? did he need an excuse to be here? that was the point of having you take his room instead so that he wouldn’t need an excuse to be near you because it was his room.

he opens the door slowly and peeks his head in. he’s surprised to see you sprawled out on his bed, not waiting for him but instead fast asleep. he thought you were bluffing about being asleep before he got there.

he fully steps in, eyebrows raised at the scene.

soobin closes the door lightly, contemplating whether or not to lock it, he opts for leaving it unlocked. the lights are off except for a nightlight by the bed that he uses when he can’t sleep and decides to pop open a book to read.

the glow of the light hits your skin in a way that makes you glow despite the darkness of the rest of the room. he can’t take it, if he does nothing now he won’t be in a good mood for the rest of the time that you’re here. now is your guys' only chance.

he places a knee at the foot of the bed, cringing at the squeak of the springs, fearing they might wake you up prematurely. he pauses and waits to see if you’ve awoken but sighs when you simply turn your head over.

“y/n~” he sing songs lightly. his fingers dance around your body as gently as possible. his eyes widen when he realizes you’ve put on a spare worn work shirt of his over your braless chest. “y/n~” he calls again. “why are you wearing this huh?” he plays with the mismatched buttons, popping them off one at a time leaving you topless and exposed.

you shiver when the cold air of the room hits your chest but try to shuffle yourself deeper into the warm sheets. “are you gonna wake up baby?” he shakes you but you only groan in response.

“you should wake up...you’re getting a little too wet to stay asleep for long, what will daddy do?” he hums while rubbing your panties. he visibly looks bored, as if he’s waiting for you to wake up so he takes it upon himself to speed up your waking up process.

he slides of your underwear with ease and tosses them aside. lazily he runs his two fingers up and down your folds a couple times before pushing them in you slowly to get adjusted to a slow pace.

he sighs at the warmth and the quiet wet sounds coming from you. “please wake up,” he half pleads. at that moment, you unconsciously clench around him and he bites his lip looking up at your face. your eyebrows are furrowed but you’re still asleep from what he can see.

do you think you’re having a wet dream? soobin rolls his eyes. if you would wake up you would see that it’s, in fact, real. “baby you should wake up before i start to...” he removes his fingers before he leans down and places his lips where his fingers were. tongue stroking your clit and simultaneously going in and out of your pussy skillfully, he starts to get a little too into it when you moan quietly from your "dream”. he allows himself to moan into your pussy, gripping your thigh harshly.

“at this rate..” he stops for a moment to catch his breath and breathes heavily on your sensitive skin. “you won’t need my cock,” he chuckles to himself, licking his lips of your cum.

he suddenly feels his pink hair being grabbed and when he looks up from below you, he sees your eyes are slightly parted. “no~” you whine softly, referring to his recent comment.

he says nothing witty to this, only happy to have you conscious again. maybe you planned this or maybe you really were tired, he doesn’t care anymore. “no?” he asks as he gets himself ready, positioning & aligning his cock with your entrance.

“did you know that somewhere during the end of the movie your skirt had risen up? did you do that on purpose to catch my son's attention or was that a sign? where you so needy that you wanted to give me a sign to fuck you right there? maybe you didn’t want my cock maybe you wanted beomgyu hm?” he pushes himself into you and you grab his arm for support. ok. he’s bigger than you thought.

your still half asleep mind can barely comprehend what he's saying either. is he jealous? you didn't realize your skirt came up but now you're curious to know if beomgyu was watching you instead of the screen.

soobin had gotten you ready while you were asleep and you thought you knew what to expect when you saw his cock but you weren’t expecting it to take time for you to adjust his size. you think you hear soobin mutter the word "tight" but you’re too busy trying not to die.

he goes slow at first, mumbling words under his breath in frustration. "you would open your legs for anyone that even resembles me in the slightest, that’s just what a slut you are." he rocks his hips forward expectantly and it leaves you stunned for a moment. "you would take my cock from behind while choking on beomgyu's how does that sound? maybe we could make it happen? but then again that wouldn’t satisfy someone like you, huh," he taunts when you whine. you want him to shut up so badly but at the same time, it only made your pussy throb against him at the thought. now that he placed the image of a threesome in your mind, you couldn’t shake it. it was wrong, so wrong on so many levels so why did it turn you on? you weren’t even attracted to beomgyu in that way! maybe you really were a whore just wanting to be filled up even if it meant with soobin plus his own spawn.

"shh, do you hear that?" he covers your mouth his cum drenched fingers, cutting off whatever sound you might produce from slowing down. at first, you don’t hear anything other than soobin's heavy breaths in your ear. after a moment, the faint sound of grunting hits your ears. it takes you a while to figure out what that sound is and where it could be coming from but when you recognize the low sounds your eyes widen as they stare back into soobin’s smug expression.

“they grow up so fast~," he sing songs. "see what happens when you tease? he probably caught a glimpse of your panties when your skirt rode up and he’s going just off that, poor kid." he frowns, he rocks his hips teasingly. you squeeze your eyes shut, there's too much tension right now. "i wonder how he would feel if he found out his dad was fucking his neighbor?" he bucks his hips up into you and thankfully his hand is still covering your mouth or you would’ve moaned loud enough for beomgyu to hear.

“daddy please," you beg, albeit a bit muffled. "please what slut?" "please fuck me please" you whine pathetically. you try to move your hips to gain some kind of friction but he stops you. "aren’t you afraid beomgyu might hear? it would be bad if he found out what we were doing right now."

you can feel your throbbing pussy going numb with soobin’s cock just sitting there inside you so you have to be quick witted and play with his ego. even though he was a grown man and father he was still just a man. "daddy please,” you moan. if you fuck me beomgyu won't disturb us after he hears how good you make me feel? and if he does he’ll just have to watch and see how it’s do-”

short gasps of air leave your throat as it’s all you manage as he sporadically slams himself deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. "stop thinking about beomgyu", you think he says. you’re not sure and you don’t care because at this point you’re too dazed to form a single thought. you for sure aren’t thinking about beomgyu, not with dick like this in you.

you think you hear beomgyu's pained gasp and chants of your name get louder but it could just be soobin. no, those breaths sound further away and deeper. you want to cry thinking about how beomgyu's deep voice would mix with soobin's lighter one. you can only imagine soobin’s grunts in your right ear as beomgyu whines in your left. it almost overstimulates you.

maybe beomgyu thinks both of you are asleep or perhaps you all are being so loud that no one can hear each other but you’re almost certain beomgyu is being painfully loud and obvious right now, as are you both.

soobin doesn't even try to hold back anymore as he leans up from his hovering position over you to hang his head back and full on moan when you clench around him for the last time. he pulls out and comes all over your stomach and chest, staining a bit of his shirt that you were wearing. you shudder at the feeling of being empty so suddenly.

"go back to sleep," he says, brushing his hand over your sweaty face. "don't worry, i'll clean you up and stay for a little while after."

the next morning is awkward, to say the least. seemingly all three of you wake up around the same time, soobin being the first one up to make breakfast for all of you. as you and beomgyu walk down the stairs together, beomgyu doesn’t bring up how he saw his father earlier walk out of his room after explicitly stating he would sleep on the couch or how he masturbated to you loud enough that he's sure you heard.

you’re only slightly at ease the beomgyu doesn’t mention anything about the sound levels of last night or the limp in your step.

you don’t remember much but you think it got to a point where you and soobin didn’t care much about how loud you were being and you were sure beomgyu heard.

you wanted to face palm at how this all turned out.

#soobin smut #soobin x reader #txt smut #txt imagines #txt scenarios #soobin scenarios #soobin imagines #choi soobin smut #txt x reader #smut #drabble #tomorrow x together imagines #soobin reactions #soobin drabble #SORRY THIS WAS HELLA LATE #DILF SOOB IS HERE HELLOOOOO #MADE IT LONG BC I FELT BAD ABT NOT POSTING IN LITERALLY A MONTH #ENJOY THE POORLY WRITTEN SMUT IF U CAN EVEN CALL IT THAT

660 notes · View notes

cantalouupe · 4 years ago

Text

curiosity

nsfw!!! kaeya x f!reader

prequel to this drabble

hand & finger kink, semi public sex except you don’t have sex with him he just makes you suck on his fingers

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

The knights of Favonius weren’t a group of people you mingled with. While you had no quarrels with any of them and had even spoken to some before, they just weren’t people that you considered friends.

There was nothing you held against them, no vendetta you had. Your feelings of them were just neutral. Pleasant conversations are easy to have with the ones stationed around town, where they’re willing to help you with really anything you need.

That’s probably why you’ve never really had to interact much with them. You’ve never been in danger and so help from them wasn’t something you had to seek out.

The higher ups, though, were a different story. You’ve also not interacted with any of them, but heard of them incredibly often, seen the outrider around town.

But that was all.

You had understood they were busy with all their work and obviously didn’t expect them to come out just so they can talk to you, a random citizen - still, you were curious. With all the big talk of them they were bound to be quite an interesting few people.

Sara, who worked at The Good Hunter - a little restaurant near the center fountain in town that served amazing food - had told you about them. The interesting honorary knight that travels with a little fairy in search for his sister, the outrider that you’ve seen before, the librarian who apparently was incredibly intimidating when you don’t return books, and even Jean, the acting grand master. You’ve heard about all of them, your curiosity causing you ask around for stories.

The first time you met any of them was on a sunny day, not unlike any other. You were out on the trail, foraging mushrooms as per Sara’s request, when you ran into a suspicious looking group of hilichurls. The odd creatures were entranced by an odd looking sigil on the ground that glowed a faint purple.

You had chosen to mentally mark where you were and turn back to go to town and report it. Hilichurls close to town was already a safety hazard, but them acting the way they were felt off and made a pit of worry grow in your stomach.

The guards at the doors of the Knights of Favonios Headquarters had questioned what you needed when you ran up, and you explained the situation, requesting to speak to Jean if possible.

Guilt ate at you when you pushed despite them telling you she was busy with work already. “I really would like to speak to her directly,” you told them.

They were going to shut you down again, but from behind them the door opened and out came an infamous face.

Of the many people you’d been told about, the Cavalry Captain was among them. Kaeya was very popular in town, apparently appeared at the tavern on most nights to chat with the townspeople. There was a lot of mystery shrouding him and his backstory but despite that he was a favorite of many people.

He looked as he’s been described to you, with dark hair and tanned skin, one eye covered with a black eye patch. His bare eye, beautiful and piercing blue met yours and you looked away immediately, feeling as though you were seeing a myth in the flesh.

“Like I said,” your eyes, probably a little wide from seeing the captain, fell back to the two guards you’d been talking to. “I think it’s a good idea if I talked to Jean directly.”

You hadn’t meant to alert Kaeya as he was leaving the Knights Headquarters but he seemed to hear, voicing out an “is everything okay?” as he approached the three of you.

“I’m not trying to be any trouble,” you tell him once the situation was explained.

He watched you shrink slightly under his gaze, pretty eyes staring up at him - and shook his head. “It’s understandable to want to report something like that immediately. I can take you to her.”

Obviously he had some sort of authority over the guarding knights because they had nothing to say about that, stepping back to their spots on either side of the stone stairs leading to the building.

You mentally let out a breath and nodded up at the blue haired male, thanking him quietly and apologizing again for making a fuss.

“Come on now,” he smiled down at you, calming your nerves a bit. “Stop apologizing for trying to keep Mondstadt safe. If anything we should be apologizing to you for not catching it before you did.”

The short walk inside the Knights Headquarters was quiet, and you took the few silent moments as a chance to get a better look at Kaeya. It was weird seeing him in front of you after only hearing about him for so long.

His clothes were much different from the other knights, from the fur on the shoulder to the color of the clothing. A small blue glowing charm hung from the side of his hip - that’s right, he had a vision.

When he opened the door to Jean’s office, you caught sight of his fingers that peaked out of dark gloves. Fingerless gloves?

“Are you going to come inside?”

Oh no, you weren’t standing here gawking at his hands, were you? You blinked at him like a deer in headlights and you wanted to melt into the floor at the amusement written on his face.

You ducked your head in embarrassment, slipping passed him silently.

Your shame was short lived, however, when you stepped into the room and saw Jean. Now you knew for a fact awe was visible on your face. It’s not every day that you get to see the grand acting master herself.

She was kind and genuinely concerned about you after you ran through the scene you saw for a third time in that day. The abyss order have been causing some trouble for the knights and they had been trying to track down more about them and their plans. What you saw didn’t give away much but Jean reiterated that it was an important bit of information and she thanked you for coming to her for it.

You preened at that, glad you could be of help to her.

Before you left, she thanked you again and assured you that you didn’t need to worry, the knights would take care of it.

And that was the end of it. Nothing else regarding that situation happened and life returned to normal.

The next time you ran into one of them it was at The Good Hunter. You were chatting with Sara while waiting for your food to finish cooking when a very familiar pair on hands came to lean against the counter you ordered at, with a very familiar voice accompanying them.

“I’ve been wondering about you,” Kaeya muses.

Wondering about you? You had to take a moment to process that, forcing out a small “Why?” to which he didn’t respond.

“Eat with me,” he responds instead, smiling at you and he is nice and a knight so who are you to decline.

So, you two eat together. He’s just as charming as people have mentioned, voice smooth and easy to listen to. By your wonder, he tells you in more detail about the Knights of Favonius, and you soak up his words like a sponge.

He is able to describe specific stories that you didn’t otherwise know about, along with other people that you hadn’t heard much about.

You find it fascinating and ask more specific questions - about visions. He answers every inquiry thats thrown at him, about his own cryo power and that of others in Mondstadt.

“Does the fingerless gloves have something to do with your element?” You ask him, and he laughs lightly at you.

“You like them, huh?”

Does he remember your lingering gaze on his hands at your last meeting? God, that’s mortifying. You hadn’t meant it to be a weird question.

When you gape at him, sputtering and trying to grasp a suitable response, he reaches out and taps a finger on the underside of your chin. “Cute,” he murmurs, before taking his leave, claiming he has work he should go attend to.

You stare at him while he leaves, reeling from his actions.

Things move more quickly after that.

You don’t know who really started it, but Kaeya’s hands become somewhat of a teasing point. It wasn’t a serious attraction at first but now his hands are the first thing your gaze catches on.

In turn, he’ll tease you for it, brushing the back of his knuckles against you or tapping a fingertip on you like he did that first time.

It boiled over one day in the Knights Library, you alongside him, curiously looking at all the different titles that were offered. Kaeya reaches out to grab a book and your eyes zero in on his hands.

Bare hands.

He wasn’t wearing those gloves today, skin fully on display and that shouldn’t be as important as it is but there you are, staring at them.

“You’re not-“

He has to know. Theres no way he accidentally forgot to wear them on a day he would be with you. Another tease, definitely.

“My gloves? Didn’t think you’d notice something like that.” Oh, he knows.

Cocky as ever, he taps his finger into your bottom lip - as he has before - and your mouth parts in response. An invitation.

The taste of clean skin bursts on your tastebuds, two of his fingers sliding inside.

“Ah, I knew it,” he murmurs, moving so you were situated in the corner of the wall and bookshelf, his body shadowing yours to shield you from any possible onlookers.

Your knees buckle from under you when he presses down onto your tongue, a whimper sounding from your throat.

“Look at you,” he coos, head leaning in so his lips brush against your ear. “How was I supposed to hold myself back when you want this so bad?”

Your hands find purchase on his biceps, gripping them to ground yourself while he rubs the pads of his fingers against your tongue. Saliva pools and threatens to spill over your lip, and Kaeya knows it, fingers moving so that it drips down out of your mouth and onto your chin.

“You know,” he starts again, fingers sinking deeper into your mouth as his other spare hand wraps loosely around your waist. “If you’re so good like this I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when I fuck you.”

Another noise leaves you, fingers digging into his arms. Your head knocks back into the wall right behind you and your eyes flutter.

You feel lucky that you cant speak because you know you wouldn’t be able to trust yourself to not beg him to fuck you right here in the library.

It feels filthy, the drool on your chin and his breath against the side of your face while he tells you these things. You felt hot and if your eyes were opened your pupils would be blown out.

“You’ll have to come see me some time, so I can really take you apart with my fingers.”

#drabble #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #kaeya genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeya smut

787 notes · View notes

luimagines · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! First of all, I wanted to let you know that your writing makes my heart melt! All of your works are as funny as they are incredible, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with your blog!

If it’s okay to request, could you write something about the boys having to dance with the reader? And when they do, they start to catch feelings for the reader but don’t realize it? If it’s okay, of course ♡ have a good day!! And please, take all the time you need if you write it!

Masterlist

If I had a nickel for every time some one requested a detailed scenario where you can dance with Link, I'd have two nickels.

Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

I should have known there were those who yearn. (And I listened to the song you referenced anon, and it's nice but I personally like Sam Smith's version better.)

But yes, I'll see what I can do.

Part 1 will include Warrior, Sky and Four

Content under the cut!

Warrior

Warrior wasn’t sure why the princess thought that throwing a party for the hero was considered a good thing.

Or at least not without warning them about it first.

He supposed she was just excited to invite heroes of the ears into her home and wanted them to feel that at least their efforts were appreciated.

But he hated this.

And Link knew he wasn’t the only one to think so if the looks of his companions were anything to go by.

But even as he makes his rounds amongst the elite, the fake and the genuine, he tried to make sure that his friends were at least have a comfortable time. He wanted them to know that they didn’t have to keep a face like he did amongst this group so if they wanted to have fun and dance and eat then they could.

They were guests in his home as well.

But no matter where he looked and no matter how many rounds he made, he noticed that were nowhere to be found.

Confused, he ventured outside the venue.

And as he looking for you, he just sees a silhouette against the moon light on top of one of the decorative rocks out in the middle of the rose bush maze.

There was no one else around and then again the guards and people were too drunk and joyful to notice someone breaking the ground rules of conduct or if they noticed, they simply did not care.

He makes his way toward the shadow and stalls for a moment when you look his way.

The way the light hit your frame seemed delicate and ethereal with an otherworldly glow to your hair and skin. The royal purple garb they gave you as a gift for not having anything suitable to wear to the party hugged your curves and angles in all the right ways. Someone must have offered you some jewelry to go with it because he doesn’t remember you having the gold necklace and matching head piece that pulls your hair back into a crown of curls tat frame your face in a divine manner.

Link found himself unable to breath for a second.

You smile and say, “I’m just taking in some air.”

“Not enjoying the party?” He blurts, worried for a moment that you’ve been uncomfortable this entire time... by yourself.... away from everyone.... just sitting in the darkness with the sounds of music and laughter in the background.

“It felt weird to be at a heroes party when I myself- am not a hero.” You shrug and lean back casually on the rock. “Here to drag me back Capitan?”

Warrior blinks and registers the change of pace in the music and will deny to the end of his life where he found the nerve to do what he does next.

He smoothly places the his cup of lightly bubbled alcohol on one of the lower rocks and holds out his hand to you. “Dance with me. Just once.”

You blink and also tune into the music behind the two of you.

It’s a slow dance.

You gradually smile and reach out to him, pulling yourself from the rocks surface and into his arms. “Just one dance.”

Warrior tries to hide the gulp that threatens to noticeably bob his Adam’s apple and places his hands on your waist and holds your hand respectfully. “Have you danced before?”

“Technically.” You answer and place your own hands in his and on his shoulder, pulling yourself closer to him. “I while I know how to dance with the elite, it’s just never been my scene.”

“I know how you feel.” Warrior takes the leads and guides you through the steps of the song. He’s been through countless hours of training for battle- and not those that end in bloodshed- but those that take place in the ball room with the nobles and high end society that would have one looked at him scorn and distaste.

He doesn’t blame you for wanting to get away.

But he does want you to enjoy yourself... if only a little bit.

The steps come naturally to him and he takes a moment to spin you around before you trip over your own feet.

A small giggle escapes your lips as you twirl and send the fabric billowing around you.

Warrior is struck stupid by the sight and almost steps off beat with the music. He’s quick to correct himself but he seemed to have your laughter on his mind on repeat.

“I’d stay out here with you if I could.” He admits as he repositions himself against you, trying to lead you away from the rose thorns and the maze itself so neither of you get caught up in it. “But unfortunately my disappearance won’t go unnoticed for long.”

“Oh...” You blink and look up into his eyes. “I suppose you really only have time for one dance, huh?”

He’s unprepared by how disappointed you sound and it would appear so are you with how quick you try to cover it up.

“It’s fine! You’re an important figure here, I guess it’s only natural that every one would want your attention. I hope you enjoy the party though. Unlike me, you deserve the recognition.” You smile genuinely but your eyes look like they’re trying to get some unknown message across.

“If I can somehow get away again-” Warrior rushes to keep your smile there and to include you in the collective joy the party was supposed to bring. “-Will you save another dance for me?”

You hum and tap you finger to you chin in thought. “It hasn’t been that bad being out here by myself...”

Warrior really hopes that you let him dance with you again even when you pull apart to the end of the music.

But you grin and reach up to boop his nose with the same finger. “Alright soldier boy, since you asked so nicely I’ll save the last dance just for you.”

Warrior laughs a little breathlessly and has to force himself to step away from you. He hopes to any and all who can hear them that’s he’s not actually blushing right now. “Ok. I’ll be back then.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Sky

Sky was sure that every one was having a great time.

The music was loud and energetic and his friends were all off doing their own thing while the festival was in full motion.

It was a celebration for the people’s loftwings since it was usually the time of the year that they left their rider’s side- presumably to go lay their eggs for the next generation of riders.

But it was all fun and games for everyone involved.

Wind and Four seemed to be in a highly competitive match of toss the sack with Twilight being the point keeper on the other end. Wild and Hyrule were busy enjoying the food and no doubt collecting the recipes (Sky was hoping that Wild would make the food so he was no way inclined to stop him). Time and Warrior were off in a corner, talking to each other with a cup in each of their hands. Legend stood next to them without a cup but he seemed to be more interested in the décor and loftwings themselves.

But you...

Sky stopped walking along the ribbon perimeter and looked over to you.

You were by yourself... You didn’t particularly happy..

And that just won’t stand.

With subtle determination, he marches over to you and taps your shoulder.

You seem to blink back into the present and raise an eyebrow to him in return.

He can see the question on your lips just as you’re about to say it so he juts his head into he direction of the dance area with a simple hand out in your direction.

He hopes his intentions are clear.

You eye his hand and snap your mouth shut with a soft click. Sky gulps suddenly, a strange bout of nervousness attempting to choke his system as you take your time to think about his offer.

Sky would never force you to do something that you don’t want to do but really (and he has no idea where this urge comes from) wants to dance with you.

Just once.

Just once to see you smile and enjoy yourself.

To see you happy.

You place your hand in his, soft and small and so much different than his own. “Lead the way, Boy Wonder.”

You smile and he returns your gesture, gently pulling you toward the open area as the next song starts. It’s light and airy and it’s enough to keep you moving even if you both stall for a minute to just sway side to side in each others arms.

Sky didn’t know that he’d feel so whole and accomplished by just holding you.

Emboldened by the tune of the events, Sky takes a step back and twirls you around as the music flows up and down again just in time to bring you back into his arms.

You laugh. “Perfect timing.”

“I do try.” Sky winks.

You giggle to yourself with a small shake of your head but you keep swaying with Sky across the dance floor.

The music comes to an end and Sky does his best gentleman’s bow as he lets go of you completely- even if he finds that he doesn’t want to. “An absolute honor to dance with you.”

The music starts up again in a similar tune but all he would have to settle for is just one dance. It’s all he’s comfortable with asking from you.

“Sky wait.” You blurt.

He turns around to see that... well you seemed to have startled yourself as well.

“I um..” You bite your lip and vaguely gesture to the musicians in the distance. “They’re not done.”

Sky smirks a little. “But the song is.”

“I uh... Just one more dance?” You hold your hand out to him this time and he stares in shock.

Not for long though.

He’s quick to place his hand in your and pull himself back to you. “I’d love to.”

Four

Four was excited to show everyone around the Festival of Fools. It was his favorite time of the year where everyone got to be silly and destress and play and eat and dance.

Four had always run around trying to do what he could never get away with on a typical day but right now he had to make sure his traveling companion didn’t actually burn the town down.

He loved them but he’d lying if he said that he wasn’t just the tiniest concerned over their facial expressions when he said that anything goes really- no laws but those of the people apply today.

Which made him the temporary babysitter for some of the more rowdy ones.

But he had lost sight of you a while ago.

Not that he was concerned or anything but... He did want to spend time with you.

The festival doesn’t happen everyday and he knew that there would only be so many days left that he’d be able to spend with the group and even less so that they’d be given a chance to relax and unwind.

That thought urged him forward to find you.

If only to make sure that you were having a good time.

He had found you by the food court where you munched on a meat stick and watched as the people came and go.

You looked bored.

Now Four knew that parties weren’t entirely your scene and you weren’t the kind of person to go and throw yourself into the middle of it all.

That being said it still rubbed him the wrong way when you looked like you would rather be anywhere but there.

He oughta do something about it.

Just across the street a band had begun playing music for the people to dance to, now that they’ve usually had their fill for lunch.

Four saw you look over and smile, basking in the edges of their amplified joy and amusement.

He grinned and ran over to you, tugging your hand into his own and pulling you close to him. “Dance with me!”

“Wha- Four? Where’d you come from?” You dropped the finished stick in shock and followed him as he dragged you to the open space just beyond the food cart.

“I live here.” He laughed and spun you around. “Just one dance!”

“I- but- Four!” You dug your heels into the dirt and stopped the both of you from reach the destination. “I can’t dance! I- I’ve never danced.”

Four turns to look at you and smiles encouragingly. “Just let loose, it’s easy. There’s no right way to move, you just do. Just feel the music and my lead.”

You bite your lip and Four takes the moment of hesitation to pull you forward again. you let him and soon find yourself on a dirt arena with lively music and people all around you.

“Don’t let go of my hand ok?” Four grins.

You find yourself grinning as well and soon you’re both spinning and jumping and leaping and twirling around each other to the beat of music.

It’s fast and fun and within moments on simply holding onto Four you find yourself laughing uncontrollably as he throws you around like a rag doll in which ever way he likes.

He’s stronger than you imagined him to be but then again... He’s a blacksmith.

It shouldn’t be all that surprising.

Somehow in the midst of it, he throws you in the air and over his head, catching you in a spin and letting you catch your breath and the music dies down and another begins.

“You ok?” Four asks, a little breathless himself. He doesn’t think he’s heard you laugh so hard or for so long.

It’s nice.

“That was fun!” You managed to say in between your giggles.

Four’s grin widened and even if he knows it’s not your style.... and he only asked for one, he holds his hand out again just in time for the next crescendo to begin.

You look up and look at him and his hand...

You don’t hesitate to put your hand in his and he pulls you close to him again.

You spin and laugh and jump and twirl well into the night, completely forgetting about the others until you have to turn in for the night.

Four’s feet hurt by the end of it and he’s exhausted but to see and hear you smile and laugh and enjoy yourself in what is arguably his favorite time of year was completely worth it.

He hopes that he can spend more time with you... He hopes for just one more dance before it all ends.

Part 2

#linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #SKYY!!#WHY ARE YOU SO HARD TO WRITE FOR?!#I'm sorry his is short compared to the others #I tried guys #linked universe

188 notes · View notes

tainted-wine · 4 years ago

Text

I didn’t apply all of these descriptions but these are the main three I had in mind while writing this. How did I attract so many fans of the crusty boi? Either way, welcome to the club!

Words: 1.5k (how the hell did that happen there’s barely any sex)

---------------------

The website didn’t explain what the “LOVER” cheat does. Probably unlocks a deleted path that didn’t make it into the official game. Or maybe he just gets a head-start on his Affection progress with you at the very beginning. Or maybe it doesn’t do shit – that could be why there’s no explanation.

Well, now that he knows how to do it, it wouldn’t hurt to test it himself. Shigaraki absently scratches at the irritated skin on his neck as he boots up the game. The directions were fairly simple and easy to remember.

1. Start a brand new file.

Ugh, he despises games that hold only one save file. It’s not like a visual novel holds up much space. What if you want different files in order to experiment with different choices? It doesn’t matter in his case anyway; he 100% completed the game months ago. With no regrets, his original game was deleted and a new one began.

> What is your name?

He might as well stick with the one he used last time.

‘SHIGGY-SENPAI’

The introduction cutscene began, the protagonist going on about the new town he just moved into. Pretty by-the-books, as far as romance openings go.

2. Finish the intro. Once you meet Y/N, go to the menu.

After skipping through a bunch of fluffy dialogue, you finally appear in all of your cute glory. Once you’re done introducing yourself, Shigaraki brings up the main menu.

3. Type in “LOVER”

Just like that? Alright then...

Right after inputting the final letter, a sparkly ping sound straight out of a magical girl anime could be heard, and that was it. Okay...it sounds like he did it correctly.

When he returned to the game, his success was much more evident. You were staring directly at the screen - almost through the screen - with a glowing expression he’s never seen. Each and every one of your reactions have been seared into his brain after so many hours of gameplay. This was new.

“You...do you really mean that, SHIGGY-SENPAI?”

What? Voice acting? Though you did say his name pretty stiffly, as expected when a computer tries to pronounce custom text, but what the hell? Why would this be hidden as a cheat?

“But it’s so soon, and I’m not very experienced...” You blushed and shyly twiddled your fingers.

Oh.

“But I already trust you, and I want you too.”

Oh.

It’s that kind of path.

A hidden adult route. Shigaraki really likes that, even though this would’ve had a much stronger impact if it happened on his original file, the one where he was fully bonded to you. Sucks that he needs a fresh file in order to fuck you.

Shit, he’s not even prepared for this. Maybe he should go grab the lotion and a couple of tissues, assuming that this special scene will make for pretty decent fap material.

But the dialogue continued automatically. You creeped closer to the screen as you gushed about your feelings for him. “I want to make love to you forever and ever!”

You were getting really close, and with a show of impressive animation, your hand reached out to touch the fourth wall...

And the screen began to distort and ripple.

What the fuck?

“I just can’t wait to feel your amazing cock.” Your fingers began to phase through the fucking computer screenWHAT THE FUCK?!

“Take me, SHIGGY-SENPAI!”

Just like that, a full-sized bitch materialized out of the game and onto his lap, nearly toppling his gamer chair.

Even in the darkness of his room, your eyes shined brightly as they studied his pale face. “You’re even more handsome up close!”

Shigaraki was still too stunned to even respond to the rare compliment. Only when you began to pull down his pants did he finally find his voice again.

“Wha–ah–who the–hey!” He knows that he shouldn’t be afraid of a hottie touching his cock but ooooh shit she’s already stroking him.

“Ah, you’re so big!” You stared at his untouched manhood in awe, watching him become more erect after every pump of your soft hand.

“Fuck, am I?” He gasped.

“Mmhmm! And I bet you’re really tasty too!” You say before he’s suddenly engulfed with the very real warmth of a mouth.

Fuck fuck fuck he isn’t gonna last. He was ready to jerk off, not actually get his dick sucked. It feels more amazing than he ever imagined, your tongue working along his sensitive flesh, and those lips sucking at him so eagerly.

When his hand grabs the top of your head, he realizes too late that all five of his fingers are tangled in your hair.

You nearly fall over from how suddenly Shigaraki rolls back in his chair. You look shocked, confused, and...very much not a pile of dust.

“What’s wrong, SHIGGY-SENPAI?”

He looked at his hands, then at you, then at his hands again.

Then he takes hold of your face and shoves you back into his groin, because he can touch you, he can touch another fucking living thing without any worries about completely destroying it. Must be some crazy logic about you being data from a videogame or something. He doesn’t care, he’s so horny, feels so good having his cock so far down a hot tight throat, he just might burst...

Wait, he might have just done exactly that.

“Ah, shit,” he watches you pull back and swallow with the most satisfied grin.

“That was quick, SHIGGY-SENPAI!” You really need to stop saying his name like that. It’s fuckin’ weird. “I didn’t even get to feel you inside me.”

“Shut up,” the mixture of emotions he’s been experiencing ever since your ass crawled out of the screen like a girl in a cursed video is starting to piss him off. He’s so insulted and thankful that this fictional bitch gave him his first blowjob and made him nut in the span of sixty seconds. “Just give me a few minutes.”

A few knocks on the room’s door startles both of you.

“Tomura, the Vanguard Action Squad is ready to move out.”

Shit!

“I’ll be out in a damn minute, Kurogiri.” Shigaraki moves to get out of his seat, only to be stopped by his new partner.

Your sparkly puppy eyes are so grossly cute, yet it has his dick twitching again already. “Are you leaving me already, SHIGGY-SENPAI?”

“Quit saying my name in all caps.”

“Okay, ˢʰᶦᵍᵍʸ⁻ˢᵉⁿᵖᵃᶦ.”

“Not like that. I can barely hear it.”

“How about SHIGGY-SENPAI?”

He slaps a hand over your mouth. “Just stop saying my name.”

A much harsher knock rocks the old door. “Hey, you ugly bastard,” That sounded like the Dabi asshole. “The hell are you doing in there? Jacking off to anime girls?”

Shigaraki scoffed. When’s the last time that burnt Stain fanboy got his dick sucked?

As much as he wants to join in on terrorizing the brats at U.A, he really wants to get laid today.

“Just go without me!” He yells through the walls. He nearly misses your muted squeak of joy.

“Eh?” Hearing Dabi’s annoyed muffled voice was pretty amusing. “You’re just gonna sit on your ass in your room while we do the work?”

The villain’s retort catches in his throat when you take his hand and begin to slowly lick at his fingers, all while pinning him with an innocent gaze.

“Your fingers are so pretty,” You whispered.

It’s so difficult to pay attention to the words being uttered outside of the room while his hands are being placed on your chest. BOOBS.

“Please trust Tomura. I’m sure he has faith in you all handling this mission on your own,” Kurogiri tries to explain. Shigaraki knows him well enough to know that he’s probably irritated as well, but there are titties in his hands so who gives a fuck.

Dabi releases an exasperated groan. “I knew this whole League of Villains thing was bullshit. Shouldn’t have bothered.”

Shigaraki slows his exploration of your breasts to shout, “If I make you the leader of the mission, will you shut up?”

“......Yes.”

“Well, I pronounce you leader of the Vanguard Action Squad. I’ll even give you a Nomu. Have fun.” The two of you are rushing to lift your shirt off for better access to your skin.

“Fuck yeah,” Dabi’s voice is still fairly close. The sooner he pisses off, the better. “I can probably pull this off better than you, anyway. Come on, psycho girl, we’re gonna go round up everyone else.”

Toga can be heard squealing excitedly as they both step away and finally give him his privacy back. You look absolutely lovestruck by the entire exchange.

“You gave up an important mission just for me? You really do love me!”

He just rolled his eyes and lowered his head to take a hardened nipple into his mouth, enjoying your sounds of delight.

He can’t wait for the next time he faces those stupid heroes. He’ll be smarter, stronger, and can even tell them that he got his dick wet.

Oh, the collapse of hero society is going to be glorious.

#asks #Tomura Shigaraki #smut #aaahhh i feel like i don't write shiggy well #oh well

549 notes · View notes

bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years ago

Note

Dialogue prompt

“Because I knew you wouldn’t!”

Spicy or no

okay so this one got... weird on me. but this is the Bouncey Castle so you know the ending is soft as fuck

Also I got so into this that I forgot to use the prompt you sent me but... Here you go?

based on Tove Lo’s “Habits (Stay High)” - modern au ‘post mountain’

tw: party scene, alcohol mention, marijuana use for the wrong reasons, dumb boys having feelings in public, mild panic attack, hurt/comfort with a very fluffy ending

---

Jaskier slams the rest of his drink and delights in the crinkling sound of Solo’s signature red plastic crumpling in his fist. He’s got an elbow-length fingerless glove on the hand that crushed the cup; he looks good enough to fucking eat and he... he’s fucking lonely.

“Want a hit?” a voice asks from his left, offering a lit joint. The tip glows a light orange in the dim of the basement room and for a moment the young musician understands how Eve felt as she stared down the snake in the Garden of Eden. He pushes the thought aside with a whoop of overacted excitement and takes a drag, letting the smoke swirl into his lungs and mask the taste of whisky that somehow refuses to abandon the back of his tongue.

Notes of Geralt’s favorite brand, some stupidly expensive Scottish malt that, in Jaskier’s personal opinion, tasted like damp peat moss and smelled like shoe-shine, cling to his every breath.

He feels trapped, suddenly claustrophobic in his seat on some beat-up leather couch. Who are these people? He stands and sways, eyes darting towards the staircase. I need some air. He lurches forward, unsteady, and does his level best to swim through the crush of bodies in the darkness.

---

Jaskier loves the smell of damp earth. It reminds him of springtime and rain-showers. The almost primordial glee that fills his chest cavity when that familiar mustiness hangs in the air is indescribable.

Now, leaning against the dank brick wall of an apartment building somewhere just south of the park, the cheer escapes him. He pounds his hands backwards into the jagged brick, momentarily grateful for the distraction of physical pain; his eyes are full of tears that simply refuse to fall despite his greatest efforts.

The beer is wearing off and the one hit of weed hadn’t done much to begin with other than make him a little dizzy. He wishes he had something else on hand. He wishes he had grabbed something on the way out. He wishes...

Jaskier wishes Geralt hadn’t said all those terrible things in front of his best friend and ex-lover, effectively blaming his boyfriend for his problems and ending things for good.

He doesn’t want to think about-

“Jaskier?”

Geralt.

The musician glances up through his bangs and sees the blurred outline of a dark shape looming before him. Fuck my life.

“Oh hey, Geralt,” he laughs humorlessly. Isn’t this just fucking perfect. Why does he still have the worst fucking timing on the Continent?

“Are you okay?”

“What does it look like?” Jaskier laughs again. He wipes his eyes and nose on the sleeve of his denim jacket and the fishnets suddenly more childish than sexy... like he used to wear in middle school when he wanted nothing more than to marry Gerard Way and escape his life as a politician’s son.

“Do you- Are you going-”

“I can walk myself home, Geralt. I’m a big boy. I can be responsible,” Jaskier snaps. The taller man flinches away and Jaskier is surprised. He thought his ex would have been over him far earlier than this. The musician was always the emotional one. Geralt doesn’t say anything for a moment and Jaskier shakes his head, turning away towards his own apartment. “Nice seeing you, I suppose.”

He takes three steps and then hallucinates. It has to be some kind of auditory hallucination because he thinks, he’s very sure that he’s made it up but he thinks he hears Geralt gasp his name.

Like prayer. Like a desperate, heart-rending plea.

Then there’s a large, familiar hand wrapping around his upper arm, jerking him to a stop. “Jaskier, please! I’m so sorry!”

He stops walking and glances back over his shoulder. The lamplight is haloed behind Geralt’s white hair, making his manbun look more like a heavenly crown than anything else. His golden eyes flash into view and Jaskier has to hold back a gasp when their gazes meet.

Geralt looks like shit.

His eyes are dull and tired, rimmed with purple bags. His skin is paler than usual and his scars stand out in stark contrast; Jaskier finds his hand wandering to Geralt’s shoulder of its own accord. Settling there. Steadying the other, stronger man. “Oh, Geralt...”

“I’m-” the man before him sobs openly beneath the obnoxious LED light. Jaskier watches in shock as Geralt falls to his knees on the pavement and clutches at his hands with such raw determination that it’s nearly frightening. “Gods, I’m so sorry. I should never have said those things, much less in front of Yennefer. I owe you so many apologies. I haven’t been able to- I haven’t been sleeping and I know it’s my own damn fault because I- You’re so bright and beautiful and I can’t seem to stop myself from dousing the lights in my life and you were too precious to lose so...”

“So you pushed me away before I could leave.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Geralt deRiv.”

---

“What’s that whiskey called again?”

“Ardbegh.”

“Fuck off,” Jaskier laughs. He pours Geralt a glass and then pours a second for his brother, who’s visiting from across the Continent for summer vacation. “I still think it tastes awful.”

“I know. That’s why I buy you all that coffee flavored shit you love so much.”

“Don’t be mad at craft beer because it’s tasty!” Jaskier sticks his tongue out. He passes the boys their drinks before sinking gracefully into Geralt’s lap. “Tell me about school, Lambert! How are you liking your professors?”

Geralt’s hand squeezes his thigh gratefully beneath the table, never one for small talk himself, and Jaskier squeezes back.

It had taken a lot of time, a lot of couple’s therapy, and some very nice dates... but things had worked out. Geralt had proven himself to be an idiot, sure, but even more importantly: he’d proved himself capable of growth and positive change. Jaskier could live with that.

Growing and learning together was a much better option than growing old apart.

#alcohol tw #weed mention #geraskier #geraskier ficlet #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #fluff #geraskier post mountain #modern au #geraskier modern au #geraskier fluff #drinking tw #party scene #inspired by the lovely tove lo

86 notes · View notes

chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

Text

Dancing Around You

Day 31, Post #2 by @adenei

Title: Dancing Around You

Author: adenei

Pairing: James x Lily

Prompt: First Date

Rating: T

TW: Some language and mentions of past abuse.

a/n: inspired by the scene in In The Heights when Vanessa and Usnavi go to the club.

*****************

I walk into the corner shop in my neighborhood and see James, Remus and Sirius talking by the counter. The scene causes more annoyance to course through me, which probably stems from the shit mood I’m already in. James and Sirius are supposed to be working, since this is their job. And why isn’t Remus at the broadcast station across the street at his own job?

So what if James owned the shop after it was left to him when his parents passed? Work is still work, and he shouldn’t be skiving off while on shift. I’ve busted my arse day in and day out for the last three years so I could save up to rent a flat in Camden to pursue a career as an interior designer. Moving out of Peckham to a more centralized location will help put me on the map as a well sought after designer.

But that was all for nothing. I’ve just returned from my meeting with the realtor, and despite having enough rent saved up for a whole year, plus the security deposit, he waved me off as if I belonged in the slums! The twat said I needed someone to co-sign a lease with me. Tears sting my eyes as I’m reminded once again of how alone I am. Having walked out at seventeen to escape my parents’ emotional abuse for the last seven years, I had no one to turn to despite the close-knit neighborhood I lived in because this was a secret goal that no one knew about.

I’m sure Marlene’s mum would be more than happy to co-sign a lease with me, but I couldn’t ask that of her. Not when she’s done so much for me already. No, I just need to hold my head high and keep moving forward. I put on my business face and strengthen my resolve, so the boys don’t suspect anything out of the ordinary.

Walking over to the fridge, I grab a Fanta and a Coke for Mrs. McKinnon. When I left the office earlier for my appointment, she asked me to bring one back. Now, I have to return to my job as her secretary at her own Real Estate office and try not to resent every client who walks in the door. When I shut the refrigerator door and turn to head to the register, I see James leaning against the glass of another fridge door.

When the hell did he creep up on me?

“Evans, how’s it going?”

“It’s been better.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

For a moment, I think about letting him in. I open my mouth to say something, but change my mind at the last second.

“You wish.”

“Right, well, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Narrowing my eyes, I observe James. We’ve been friends for years, and it’s a friendship I cherish more than anything. He’s always been there to make me laugh, to match my sarcasm and wit, and he’s never been afraid to go toe-to-toe with me. I know him well, almost as well as I know myself, but I’m not expecting his question or the butterflies that flutter in my stomach in response.

I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t attractive. His perpetual bedhead, black hair and piercing yet kind hazel eyes have always stood out to me. It’s no secret that he’s fit from lifting boxes all day and playing on a club football team in his free time. But I’ve never allowed myself to think there could be anything more between us besides friendship.

So, why does it feel like he’s asking me out? Am I misreading the signs? I decide to keep the ball in his court to get a better read on his intentions.

“I’m going dancing with Marlene and Mary,” I reply, keeping my voice cool and collected.

“Oh, sounds like fun.” He glances down at the bottles in my hands. “All set, then?”

I nod, and If I’m not mistaken, his shoulders slump as he turns to head back to the counter. Should I have invited him and the guys to join us? Before I can ponder it further, Sirius cuts me off and pushes me back into the aisle.

“You and the girls are going dancing? That sounds like fun. I’d bet my buddy over there would love to join you.” He raises his eyebrows as if willing me to catch his subtle hint, which I do.

“Wait, was James just trying to ask me out tomorrow?”

Sirius shrugs. “Probably, but you two have been friends forever, and despite his smooth-talking with most females, he seems to get tongue-tied around you.”

A burst of laughter bubbles out of me. “James? Tongue-tied? Around me? What are you smoking?”

“Nothing, Evans. Just pointing out a fact.”

Fine, if Sirius is going to pester me about this, I will prove him wrong. I brush past him toward James so I can pay for the drinks and be on my way. Sliding a couple pounds to James over the counter, I smirk at him.

“You know, Potter, I could use a dancing partner tomorrow night. Pick me up at eight?”

His head snaps up, and he looks shocked before a goofy smile replaces the surprise on his face. “Er, yeah, alright. I mean, if you’re sure—”

Cutting him off, I put him out of his misery. “Great, see you then.”

The following evening, we’re walking into Alohomora, the most popular nightclub in Peckham. My friends and I frequent the club at least once a month. I love its mix of neons glowing amongst the blacklights and the worn leather benches framing the booths around the perimeter of the dance floor. It’s come to feel like a second home to me.

Dancing is an outlet for my frustrations. I love letting the music consume my soul as the loud thumps of the bass vibrate through my body as I spin on the floor. Tonight will be no different, except that James is with me. As my date. At least, I think he’s my date. Neither of us have actually talked about what this is.

“Wow, I haven’t been here in ages. Have they changed the layout recently?” James asks.

“Not that I can recall,” I wave his question off as I hear a number of people shout my name in greeting.

“I didn’t realize how popular you were here, Evans. I’m impressed.”

“Impressed by what? It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I have more friends than you three. I hope that doesn’t make you jealous.” My playful banter is accompanied by a smirk as James laughs.

“Me? Jealous? Of course not. Care for a drink first?”

“Sure.”

Usually, I’d prefer to dance a bit first, but I don’t want to drag James onto the dance floor if he doesn’t want to. I’m not even sure if he enjoys dancing since I’ve never seen him here before. He’s flagging down the bartender when someone calls to me.

“Lily! Hey, Lily!” Terry Fawcett is pushing his way through the crowded dance floor. “Wanna dance?”

He holds out his hand when he reaches me, but I shake my head.

“Sorry, Ter, I’m here with someone else tonight.”

James turns as he overhears the interaction and waves me on. He contorts his face in a weird, ‘trying to be chill, but still looks sort of pained’ way.

“It’s alright, Evans, go ahead.”

I’m taken aback. Maybe we really weren’t on a date. “But—are you sure?”

“Yeah, just save one for me later.”

“Oh, well, alright.”

My hand falls into Terry’s even though I’m not certain I want to dance with him. There’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’m not used to as I walk away from James. It’s ridiculous, but I think I’m actually disappointed that James passed me off so easily. And I’m just as mad at Sirius for even putting the thought that James might fancy me in my head because it’s all I’ve been able to think about since yesterday afternoon.

Well, there’s only one way to find out once and for all if he cares. Make him jealous.

I dance as I’ve never danced before when the music changes to an upbeat Latin tune. I spin around the floor, dancing with Terry before I’m passed off to other men that I’ve danced with once or twice in the past. It takes everything in my power to not steal glances at James, but I do catch when his baffled look turns dark as he begins to scowl at the men who are practically lined up to dance with me.

By the time he does walk out to the dance floor to cut in, I’m exhausted. He pulls me into his arms, but I’m still annoyed that he’s waited this long.

“Potter, I need a break.”

I pull away from him and walk toward the bar, where Sirius holds two drinks in his hands. I grab one and slam it down, shoving the glass into his chest once it’s empty. Then, I turn and head for the exit to get some air. It’s much quieter on the street, save for the ambient sounds of traffic in the background, a stark contrast to inside the club. I lean against the wall as I catch my breath and watch the cars go by.

The door to the club opens, and the music splits the night air as James steps out.

“Evans, what the hell was that?”

“What was what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

What? Is he angry? Good. Let him be angry.

“You! You ask me to come with you, spend all night dancing with other blokes, and then when I try to cut in, you ditch me.”

A derisive bark escapes my lips as I push off the wall and step closer to him, matching his stance.

“Don’t you dare try to blame this on me, Potter. You’re the one who pushed me away! I would have been perfectly happy dancing with you all night, but no, you sat back and watched as I danced with everyone else.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do!?”

He can’t be serious right now, playing the victim and passing this onto me. There’s no way I’m letting him get away with this. I step even closer, thankful that my heels bring me closer to eye level with him, so it’s more of an even match.

“I don’t know, put your arm around me and tell the bloke to fuck off? That I’m taken?”

“Are you taken?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

Our breathing is heavy, chests heaving as our noses are a hair’s width apart. All I can focus on is the intensity in his eyes, the gold flecks burning like the flames in a fire. I wait for him to say something, or do something, anything except stare at me. I give him more than enough time, and he doesn’t make a move, so I decide that I’m done.

As much as I don’t want to, I break eye contact and turn away. I’m not in the mood to stay out, so I begin the walk home. James and I are friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be, but that doesn’t stop me from cursing Sirius for putting the thought that we could be more in my head. Because now that I’ve accepted the thought, I’m not sure I want to stay friends. But it’s clear now, this wasn’t meant to be anything special, and I was stupid for thinking it could be.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic

23 notes · View notes

smaidjor · 3 years ago

Text

i know they're losing (chapter 3)

Hello everyone! Welcome back to your favorite(/j) hot mess of a fic. Sorry this chapter took a little longer to post, I thought I'd give you all a bit of time to recover from that last one. Plus, I was working on Scott's POV of this (which will be posted soon, don't worry!) Anyways, enjoy the fic!

(Once again obligatory disclaimer this is characters not people, don't ship real people, etc.)

(Also a disclaimer that I am not a medical professional and any medicine portrayed in this fic is likely inaccurate. Do not follow any medical procedures used in this fic, as I did absolutely 0 research to confirm any of this.)

Chapter Title: I turn at last to paths that lead home

Chapter Wordcount: 3214

Content warnings: blood, canon-typical violence

AO3 Link

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Actual fic under the cut:

The next morning dawns bright, sunny, and with a looming sense of unease that Jimmy can’t seem to shake. Scott’s ring feels heavy on his finger despite the resolution they reached yesterday, and he shifts anxiously as he waits for his husband to wake up. The sun’s well over the horizon and Scott still isn’t up, which only makes him more anxious. Usually, Scott’s an early riser. Today, though, he’s sleeping like the dead, and the scar on his throat doesn’t help the effect. Something is wrong. Jimmy doesn’t know how or why he knows it, but something is wrong and why is Scott still sleeping?

Finally, Jimmy can’t take it any longer. “Scott? Scott, wake up,” he whispers.

Nothing.

“Scott! Wake up!”

His husband is still firmly unconscious, and Jimmy’s heart leaps into his throat as he begs one more time. “Scott? Please?”

Scott rolls over and blinks at him, thank god, his voice coming out thick with sleep. “Five more minutes, darling.”

“I think something’s wrong,” Jimmy urges. “It feels wrong. Really wrong.”

That gets his love to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. There are still dark circles visible under them, and Jimmy gets a rush of guilt for waking him. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s alright, go back to sleep.”

“No, no, I trust your gut.” Scott gets out of bed with only a slight stumble, sliding on his cloak in one graceful movement. “Let’s go look, and if it’s nothing then I’ll sleep more, okay?”

Jimmy nods, hurrying after him. “I have a really terrible feeling, Scott. Be careful, please.”

“I should be telling that to you.”

“Hey, I’ve gotten more careful!”

Scott laughs, looking more alive than he has in months, but quickly sobers again as they reach the front door. “You’re right, Jimmy. Something isn’t right.”

“I know, it feels awful!”

“Mhm.” Scott snatches up a frankly ridiculous axe from nearby, a shimmering pink monstrosity that’s twice the size of Jimmy’s head. “Stay behind me, just in case.”

The door creaks as it swings open, and the source of Jimmy’s unease becomes immediately clear.

Across the valley is the demon, standing next to Scott’s enchanting tower.

“That’s the demon!” Jimmy hisses, once he gets his racing heart under control. “Right there by the tower!”

Scott looks like someone just killed a cat in front of him, an odd sort of heartbreak flashing across his face before it’s replaced with determination. “That?”

“Yes!”

“Right. Okay. Jimmy, I need you to listen to exactly what I say right now. If I say get down, you get down. If I say run, you run and don’t look back no matter what you hear. Can you do that?”

Jimmy looks at the elf who very nearly broke his heart, and chooses to put that heart right back in Scott’s hands. “I trust you. If you say run, I’ll run.”

“Alright. Give me your engagement ring.”

“Wh-”

“Trust me. Please.”

Jimmy hands it over.

Scott slides it onto his finger. His hands are a little smaller than Jimmy’s, and it only fits on his right middle finger. Which would normally be cute, but right now Jimmy is just terrified. “Okay, Jimmy. I’m about to go out the front door, and when I do, I need you to go out the side door over there and run for the stables. When you get there, roll in the mud and then run for the village. Speed over stealth, corrupted elves track by smell and sound rather than sight.”

Jimmy nods.

“From there,” Scott continues, “I need you to track down an elf called Gilnar and tell them to lock down the kingdom and warn everyone of the danger. I also need you to tell them that Lord Smajor orders them to protect you.”

“What about you? Will you be okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

Jimmy knows Scott’s lying because Scott could never properly lie, not when it’s to Jimmy. He always looks away, no matter how steady his voice stays. Jimmy says nothing about it, but he grabs a spare sword and prays he’ll be quick enough to save Scott if it all goes downhill.

Scott hefts the axe. “Ready?”

Jimmy isn’t, but he nods. “Ready.”

Scott steps out the door, calling out something in some elven language that sounds like a challenge. At the same time, Jimmy bolts out the side door, sprinting for a low building which he thinks is the barn.

Somehow, he gets there without incident, and he throws himself into the mud without hesitation. The farrier gives him a deeply weird look, which Jimmy ignores in favor of sprinting for the village. The altitude means he’s out of breath by the time he gets there, hurrying inside the walls. The elves give him strange looks, a few seeming rather judgemental. Jimmy tries not to flush, remembering Scott’s instructions.

“Excuse me?” He asks the nearest elf. “I’m looking for uh, Gilnar?”

They stare him down, raising a single eyebrow. “For what reason?”

“Scott- Lord Smajor sent me.”

In the background, there’s a cry of pain, which thankfully sounds demonic rather than elven.

“Gilnar should be that way.”

“Thank you, uh, gentleperson!” Jimmy hurries that way, stopping another villager. “Are you Gilnar?”

The look he gets is even stranger. “Do I look like a captain of the guard to you? No. What do you want Gilnar for anyways?”

“Scott told me to find them.”

“Then that’s them over there,” the elf tells him, pointing out an incredibly short elf with neatly plaited brown hair.

“Thank you!”

Gilnar looks up at his approach, seemingly unbothered by the mud. “Lord Codfather, right? Scott sent ya?”

“He said to tell you to lock down the kingdom,” Jimmy reports faithfully. “He also said you should protect me, or something like that, but I don’t really need- I’ll be fine is the point.”

“Riiiiight. Calros!”

A tall elf appears behind them.

“Protect the codfather, Lord Scott’d be a bit put out if he died, I think. Alqualoth!” Another elf appears. “I need you to help me get everythin’ locked down.” With that, Gilnar hurries away, a few elves falling into formation behind them.

“So….this is awkward,” Calros, the tall elf, offers.

Jimmy ignores them in favor of running to the edge of the cliff the village is built on, trying to catch a glimpse of Scott. He’s rewarded only with the sight of his husband dueling a demon, which isn’t exactly what anyone wants to see at 8 o’clock in the morning. At least Scott doesn’t seem to be entirely overwhelmed, but the demon has far too much of the upper hand for Jimmy’s comfort.

“Whoa, whoa, let a girl catch up,” Calros yelps. She doesn’t seem very dignified for an elf, but Jimmy’s not very dignified for a human, so he understands. “So, uh...how’s Codland?”

Unfortunately for Calros and her well-meaning questions, at that moment, Scott starts screaming. It takes a moment for Jimmy to even register the sound as Scott’s voice; he’s never heard Scott scream before. It’s a high, broken noise, pure pain in every note as the demon pins Scott to the mountainside. Jimmy doesn’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t give to never have to hear that noise again, which is why he jumps the wall at the edge of the village.

“No, wait!” Calros yells.

Jimmy’s already gone, landing awkwardly on the other side. He hardly feels the pain of what’s surely a twisted ankle, sprinting for the scene of the fight. The sword flies into his hand, the gleam of enchantment shimmering bright. He doesn’t have a single second to think about what he’s doing as he opens his mouth to shout. “Hey, demon thing! Yeah, you! You’re ugly! And you probably smell bad!”

The being turns its head in a way that’s far too human for Jimmy’s comfort, and thank god, Scott stops screaming. “What did you say to me?” It hisses.

Jimmy’s heart is beating in his throat, palms sweaty as he scrapes together the few remaining bits of his courage. “I said you’re ugly! And you suck! Leave my husband alone!”

The demon loosens their hold, rage twisting their smile into something even more terrifying, and Scott backhands them across the face, kicking his way free. Jimmy watches as he struggles to his feet, the ring gleaming on his hand.

Scott cries something in some elven tongue, and the demon hisses.

He calls out another word, a command, and the ring glows with a light of its own as the demon is forced back, inch by inch. Finally, it flies backwards and vanishes entirely.

Scott sinks to his knees, cradling the hand with the ring on it, and Jimmy breaks into a run again.

“Scott! Scott!”

His husband looks up at him with haunted eyes, face bruised and battered, a little blood trickling down his brow. His teeth are bared, just a little sharp, and there’s something desperate about the way he whispers Jimmy’s name, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Jimmy kneels by him quickly, looking for any major injuries. “What’s wrong? Where- what’s hurt? I’ll fix it, I promise, I-” he’s cut off by Scott yanking him into a desperate hug, burying his face in Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Oh,” Jimmy says weakly. He wraps his arms around Scott in return, running a soothing hand up and down Scott’s back as he feels the elf tremble. “It’s alright, Scott, we’re alright.”

“Jimmy,” Scott says again. “Jimmy, I can’t.”

“I-”

“I want it to be over. I don’t want elves or nations or politics. I just want you.”

“I know, I know,” Jimmy soothes.

‘Why does it have to be me? It wasn’t supposed to be! It wasn’t supposed to be me!” Scott sounds almost angry, but the words quickly dissolve into incoherent sobs and fragments of sentences. “I- please- shouldn’t have- Jimmy. Jimmy.” He repeats Jimmy’s name over and over, hands clutching the fabric of Jimmy’s shirt, and Jimmy has never felt so helpless. All he can do is whisper empty comforts, kissing the top of Scott’s head and holding him close.

Elves have begun to surround them, varying looks of concern or disgust on their faces. Jimmy glares up at all of them, daring them to say something.

“Uh, milord?” Gilnar starts, and that’s the final straw.

“Give him a goddamn minute!” Jimmy snaps, rage bubbling up under his skin. “He just fought a demon for all of you, let the man rest! I know you’re all elves and you’re all- all elegant and composed or whatever, but you can’t expect someone to be perfect! We’re all human, you know!”

One of the elves gives him a look of disdain. “You are human, Codfather. We are not. Lord Smajor knew the responsibilities and difficulties of ruling.”

“He’s too young for this,” Jimmy thinks he hears someone mutter, but he’s too angry to bother paying attention.

“I- well I don’t think anyone could have expected a demon! And probably even less people’d be willing to fight one! Scott’s one of the bravest, kindest, smartest people I know, so lay off him, will you?”

“You know nothing of the affairs of elves,” the same elf sniffs.

Jimmy’s about to open his mouth and inform them that he knows about the affairs of being a decent person, for goodness sake, but he’s cut off by Scott raising his head, his sobs subsiding into ragged breathing. “It’s fine, Jimmy. They are correct, I do have responsibilities.”

“They can’t expect you to be perfect,” Jimmy argues, but there’s no dissuading Scott as he staggers to his feet.

“Gilnar, get the village out of lockdown and make sure people are aware of the threat of Xornoth. Celebear, search the library for any books on corruption of elves, and Lauriel, translate any you find that are not Sindarin into it. Elder council, I need research done on any rings of power that are strong enough to counteract Vilya to that degree, that will narrow down what Xornoth has. Now, the Codfather and I need to negotiate wool and fish trades,” Scott adds, grabbing Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy yelps, startled, as Scott drags him off with inhuman strength.

They make it up the hill and into Scott’s house before Scott slumps, collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs. “Well, fuck me to the End and back,” he groans.

“Are they always like that?” Jimmy asks, worried.

“Pretty much. Gilnar’s okay, just tough as shit, and so are Celebear and Lauriel, but...I wasn’t- well, I wasn’t meant to inherit Rivendell, and the Council of Elders takes every opportunity to remind me of that fact.”

“Oh. Who’s Xornoth?”

Scott laughs, a bitter, exhausted sound. “My twin, also known as the demon that’s been terrorizing you.”

At first, Jimmy thinks he’s misheard. “What?”

“My twin. My older sibling. The person who was supposed to inherit the throne of the elves.”

“What?”

Scott sighs. “Let me start from the beginning. My parents were two elven monarchs, one of the Sindar, and one of the Noldor. With other bloodlines mixed in, but the Sindar and Noldor is the important bit since those two groups haven’t always gotten along. Somewhere around fifty-five years ago, they started trying for kids. What they didn’t expect was that Xornoth and I are identical twins, only the fifth set of elven twins ever recorded.”

“Whoa.”

“Mhm. Xornoth was- is- technically the older one, who was always set to inherit the throne of the elves and unite our divided people. They were compared to Elrond, wise and powerful leader of another land named Rivendell far in the past, and I was Elros, his twin. Impulsive, snarky, human.” Scott closes his eyes, looking as if it pains him to talk about this. “Our parents died when we were both quite young, and we were brought up expecting Xornoth to take the throne as soon as they came of age. I spent my time hanging out with mortals, instead, getting involved in things like mcc and 3rd life.”

“Ohhh,” Jimmy says intelligently.

Scott nods tensely. “When I was the elven equivalent of seventeen or so, Xornoth gave me a ring. This ring, specifically,” he says, tapping Jimmy’s engagement ring. “Vilya, an elven ring of power. They told me to leave Rivendell and not return.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know at the time, but they were being corrupted by a ring of their own, not to mention their own desire for power.” Scott’s voice shakes a little, and Jimmy takes his hand in comfort. “I returned after coming of age while away to find that Xornoth had fled and I was now the heir of Rivendell. Which absolutely no one wanted.”

“Why not? You’re amazing!” Jimmy protests.

“Remember when I told you that I’m not a very elven elf? That. I’m too human for their tastes, spend too much of my time with humans.”

“Well, I think you’re wonderful.”

Scott squeezes his hand tight, a faint, fond smile creeping onto his face. “Thank you, Jimmy. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jimmy replies, and then something Scott said catches up with him. “Wait. Scott?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did you give me an elven ring of power for an engagement ring?”

“….Maybe.”

Jimmy’s torn between laughter and outrage. “Me! You gave me, little old Jimmy Solidarity, an elven ring of power?”

“You’re the most precious thing in my life. I gave you everything I could offer.”

Jimmy flushes immediately, feeling his cheeks heat with the compliment. It’s not fair that Scott can make him lose all his remaining braincells with just a simple sentence, it really isn’t! “Stop that!”

“Stop what?” Scott asks innocently.

“Saying that stuff and giving me that look, you know what I mean! That soft one that- that makes me all blushy and stuttery!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s smirking. He definitely knows exactly what he’s doing, and Jimmy would hate him for it if he was even capable of hating Scott.

“I’m trying to scold you for giving me a ring of power that’s super important, stop- stop flirting, for goodness sake!”

“You’re hot when you’re flustered, though.” The charming words would be a lot more effective if Scott didn’t also choose that moment to try and wipe the blood off his forehead, only succeeding in smearing blood everywhere and reminding Jimmy to be worried about him.

“Let me get that,” Jimmy offers, looking around for a rag. Scott patiently lets him fuss, and Jimmy dabs at the cut with a wet rag and bandages it carefully. He moves on to cleaning out smaller cuts and scrapes, then the bruises, handing Scott some ice to put on the largest ones. Even then, he’s not fully satisfied until he makes Scott count backward from 100 to prove he hasn’t hit his head too hard.

“Ninety-two, ninety-one, I swear I’m fine, Jimmy, ninety, eighty-nine, eighty-eight, eighty-seven, I literally explained elven rings of power to you, eighty-six, eight-five, can I stop counting now?”

“No.”

“Jimmyyyyyyyy,” Scott whines.

“Just a bit more? For me?” It’s a dirty trick, but Jimmy gives him the puppy dog eyes that he knows Scott can’t say no to.

He’s rewarded with a long-suffering sigh and “Fine. Eighty-four, eighty-three, eighty-two…”

Jimmy makes him count all the way down to seventy and then multiply together thirteen and twelve before he’s satisfied, ignoring Scott’s complaining about having to do math so early in the morning.

“I can’t believe my own husband made me do math.”

Jimmy laughs and bops him on the nose. “I’ll make breakfast to make up for it?”

“You better!” Scott says, but he’s smiling too.

Jimmy makes them both pancakes, firmly ignoring the lingering fear from the demon attack, not to mention all the revelations from this morning. Those are problems for future Jimmy. Present Jimmy is going to scold his husband for sneaking bits of pancake batter (“It doesn’t even taste good, Scott!”) and drink hot chocolate in a beautiful little kitchen with the love of his life. None of that demon nonsense, no thank you. Just hot chocolate and pancakes and the sound of Scott’s laughter as he teases Jimmy about smelling like fish. Which is a perfectly fine smell, thank you very much, Scott, why are you laughing?

Every so often, he pauses and admires the bracelet that’s still on his wrist, running his fingers over the elegantly shaped flowers. This must have taken Scott so long to make, and he did it all for Jimmy. He gave Jimmy a ring of power, for goodness sake! Jimmy doesn’t think he’ll ever be over the thrill of how it feels to be so loved and to know it, too. To know Scott loved him back in 3rd life and loves him now and will love him for the rest of Jimmy’s mortal lifespan and beyond. He can’t quite wrap his head around it, honestly, but it’s not a bad thing, not at all. How could having Scott in his life ever be a bad thing? He thinks- knows, as well as he knows his own self- that whatever happens next, he and Scott can face it together.

#scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #empires smp #my writing

24 notes · View notes

dearmantis · 4 years ago

Text

Blood on your hands

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Summary: Westview was your home, but the nightmares you have every night tell a different story. When hallucinations start to take over your day to day life a around the same time Wanda introduced you to her brother Pietro, one of your best friends tries to help.

Help herself, not you.

! Part two of Old wounds ripped open, can be read on it’s own though !

Warnings: spoilers for episode 7 of WandaVision(?), mentions of death and blood, angst, nightmares, a bit of survivors guilt, horror (if you squint a bit), hallucinations, some weird/ creepy stuff involving a corpse (not Vision and not sexual, it’s just weird and a bit sad)

Word Count: 3.2k

Author's Note: Blood on your hands is less focused on Pietro and instead centered more around the Reader and their experiences after the events of Old wounds ripped open. It does involve Pietro again though, don't worry.

Also, some parts of this seemingly got mixed up for some reason so if some passages make no sense and feel out of place that's why. I've been trying to fit it but I mightve overlooked some parts so please tell me!

You had weird dreams since your first day in Westview, your head filled with blurry scenes, blues and whites bleeding into each other as calm voices spoke to you, warm hands caressing your skin, creating scenarios that made no sense but felt familiar enough, like they had had happened once, in a world, a life, vastly different from the one you lived in now.

It would’ve been quite beautiful if they weren’t accompanied by a deep feeling of melancholy, sadness seeping into your body and clinging onto your bones every night, the pictures becoming clearer and the feelings stronger with every passing day.

The night a day before you met Pietro, Wanda's twin brother you don’t remember ever hearing about even though you had been best friends with Wanda since you were 4, the dreams changed.

Suddenly, the sorrow and heartache transformed into fear, cold sweat clinging on your skin every time the panic got strong enough to rip you out of your sleep and you woke up, drenched and shaking.

There was no comfort in the emotions that overtook you during those dreams, no warmth in the sorrow that seemed to fill you up like water, drowning out everything else.

Just this overwhelming sense of terror and grief, slowly choking the air out of your lungs and turning your muscles weak.

You thought about talking with Wanda about what you saw and heard in your dreams, about the gunshots, the screams, the blood, but something held you back. As soon as the idea came up in your mind you knew that this was not an option, no questions, no but’s.

You just knew.

However, as the days went on, the dreams became worse.

People turning to dust, Wanda crying and screaming, a man dying, burns all over his body, a stone being ripped out of the forehead of a strange man, his body falling dead on the ground… and a man with white hair being shot and killed.

All you were able to do was watch, unable to prevent what was happening.

In those dreams you could heal, your hands glowing in a warm golden light, heat burning in your fingertips, but no matter what you did, people continued to turn into dust, the burns stayed, the stone was still gone and you were always too far away to save the man, distancing yourself further every second no matter how hard you fought to get closer to him.

You felt useless, helpless, undeserving.

The fear of Wanda finding out about your nightmares grew steadily with every dream, the outside signs of your sleepless nights becoming more and more obvious, but no matter what tricks and tips you tried, not a single night was slept through calmly.

It didn’t help that the scenarios all held the same familiar feeling the ones before the meeting with Pietro did. Melancholy and pain now ruling hand in hand over what was once supposed to help you relax and restore your energy for the next day.

You started hallucinating after 2 days. Vision was always gone or with Wanda and something about Pietro's company made you feel uncomfortable, so you started to spend your time more by yourself, now really regretting that you didn’t get a dog when the idea first came up.

It began with randomly seeing people on the street turning to dust.

The first time it happened you felt like you were going to turn to dust as well, your heartbeat loudly hammering in your ears as you ran out of the house screaming, trying to help and save your poor neighbors from certain doom. It happened two more times before you realized that your mind was playing tricks on you,, too exhausted to work like it was supposed to.

Halloween night was the worst.

Knowing that you wouldn’t be able to actually rest, you decided to spend the night on the couch, watching any kids show or movie you could find, until you slipped back into unconsciousness at around 11 pm during a scooby doo marathon.

Wanda had invited you to come along with her, the twins and the boys since both Vision and Agnes would be busy that day but you refused, claiming that you felt sick and wanted to spend the night in your bed sleeping and watching TV. The young mother had looked you up and down, pity in her watchful eyes, before she took your hand, squeezed it, and told you to call in case anything happened and you needed help. You had nodded, thanking Wanda and promising her to come over as soon as you felt better.

The reason why Halloween was the worst was because the dream you had was different once again, this time for seemingly no reason at all.

Wanda was currently being dragged away from a body, the body of the man you had seen before in previous dreams. The one who got shot while you were in the air, unable to get closer to him no matter how hard you tried. Her hysterical screaming was the only thing you could hear, sokovian insults directed towards those dragging her away, someone named Ultron, and you.

You were on what you recognized to be a helicarrier, even though you don’t remember ever having seen one or heard of one, the word unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.

Wanda stared at you as you slowly approached the body, still being held back but now silent like everyone else around you, all of their eyes focused on you and you alone.

An empty feeling had started to fill your mind since the helicopter had landed, not a single emotion or thought racing through your head when you lifted your hands, a warm golden glow engulfing them, and placed them on the man's chest.

The wounds healed, golden threads filling the wounds before turning into normal human tissue, but his heart stayed still, no matter what you did.

“This is your fault too. You promised you would be there! You promised you would keep him safe, you disgusting liar. I tried to defend you so many times but HYDRA and Ultron were right. You’re useless.”, Wanda uttered, her eyes wild and glowing in a deep shade of red, her hands called to fists.

Your powers got stronger and stronger, now able to rebuild entire missing limbs like you had done just a few minutes ago to save an old man instead of only healing small cuts like during your first weeks with HYDRA, but death was still irreversible to you.

A part of you simply accepting what she had said as the truth.

You should’ve been there. You directly disobeyed orders. This is your fault too. There was no denying of these simple facts.

Another part of you however, the part of you that was trained by Hydra and followed Ultron, filled with toxic thoughts and jealousy because Wanda was stronger than you, got more attention than you, was more important than you overall, saw a chance to strike.

“You knew that he was still getting used to his powers, Wanda. And you knew that he was already getting exhausted, making him slower. It was your job to protect him too. After all, you’re the one who can rip through those robots like nothing. I’m just a useless healer.”

Both of you would regret these words years later, Wanda sitting in her room only two months later, hysterically sobbing and shaking like a leaf, none of the other Avengers being able to do anything other than calling you, begging you to take a break from helping with the rebuilding of Sokovia because something was wrong with Wanda and no one knew what to do. When you arrived you laid in each other's arms, trying to calm each other down, talking about how much you missed each other and what happened during and after Pietro's death.

Oh, something was definitely wrong.

A loud knocking on your door was what ripped you out of your sleep, quickly jogging to it, thinking it must be Wanda trying to check on you. Instead, Agnes was standing in front of you, a sweet smile on her lips.

How Wanda saw his dead body everywhere, and how you couldn’t touch wet things anymore or wash your hands with cold water because it kept reminding you of his blood soaked shirt and the way your hands were covered in his cold blood, the red liquid dripping from them until it dried to a dark brown layer.

“Hey Y/N,”, she greeted, moving past you to get into your house. “Wanda told me about you feeling a bit sick so I came over to check on you. You’re my friend too, afterall. I wanna make sure you’re doing alright.”

Slowly your eyes moved down, landing on your hands.

Agnes was already waiting for you in the kitchen, preparing two cups of tea like this was her house, shooing you back into the living room while loudly talking about how important it was for her to take care of her close friends. You were about to sit back down on the couch when you finally heard it.

Dripping. Something was dripping.

Red.

Turning, your eyes followed the path you had walked as well as you could, moving from the couch, small red drops leading to the door with its now blood covered doorknob, to the kitchen, and then back to the couch.

You silently watched her from the door, your mind still half stuck in the dream you had, trying to understand what was happening when the door slipped out of your grasp, closing on its own.

“Oh Y/N, I didn’t send you into the living room for you to just stand here and stare into nothingness. Sit down, sweetheart. The tea is nearly done, just give it another minute.”, Agnes suddenly said, setting two cups and a small bowl down on the living room table before pushing you down onto the couch and turning the sound of the TV lower. She quickly sat down next to you, covering you and herself with the blanket that had fallen to the floor while you had slept.

“So, darling, tell me about how you’re feeling. Wanda seemed awfully worried about you. She kept babbling about not knowing what was wrong with you, a true sweetheart, isn’t she?”, Agnes laughed, patting your knee before carefully pulling the tea bags out of the cups.

You knew it had to be a hallucination, the man's blood on your hands coming out of the dream you had, just like the people turning to dust, but it looked so real, the feeling eerily familiar to you.

With a big grin on her lips, she gave you one of them, taking a big sip of it while watching you do the same thing from your own cup.

You were nearly finished with your tea when you noticed that you hadn’t told Agnes or Wanda about what was wrong with you. the cup covered in blood when you sat it down, the liquid on your hands seemingly unending and refusing to dry like it had in your dream.

For a while you sat there, together, watching scoobie doo while drinking tea, talking about the boring ads or about your time in Westview.

“Agnes, why aren’t you with Wanda and the twins right now?”, you asked, your voice not louder than a whisper, somehow aware that asking about her knowledge about the nightmares wouldn’t end well for you.

“Like I told you, I wanted to make sure you’re alright and don’t feel too lonely. Now finish your cup of tea so I can leave knowing that you’ll sleep well tonight. I even put out a big bowl of candy on your porch to make sure no one will ring the door to wake you up tonight.”

If that was all it took for her to go, you would obey, you thought to yourself, downing the rest of the bitter tasting tea in one go before standing up.

With every passing second, Agnes company seemed to make you more and more unconfortable, her aura more dominant than usual. You needed her out of your house. Now.

Agnes smiled at you, took the cups and stood up to go to the kitchen. “Not before I washed these, sweetheart. Then I’ll leave you alone to sleep. Wanda will be fine for another few minutes.”

“Come on, Agnes. I bet Wanda already misses you greatly. You should meet them before the twins go to bed.”, you exclaimed, lifting the blanket from her body and folding it.

A sigh escaped your lips as you walked to the door, suddenly stopping when your eyes jumped to the middle of the hallway.

You were frozen in place, unable to move even when Agnes came out of the kitchen.

She dried her hands with one of your towels before carelessly dropping it on the floor, grinning at you before leaving with the words “Have fun tonight, Y/N. I know you missed him so much.”

When the door fell into its lock, you dropped to your knees, hands shaking and legs weak like pudding.

Pietro.

Pietro, Pietro, Pietro, Pietro, Pietro Pietro.

Here.

On your floor.

You didn’t know how long you sat on the floor, staring at that body, just that you still hadn’t moved when the sun started to rise again, your eyes glued to the corpse while you tried to sort through your newly gained memories.

Dead.

Of course your immediate thought had been to blame Wanda. She was the only person you knew who had the power to take away memories and manipulate your thoughts and feelings and she had a motive.

She was your best friend. Your best friend since kindergarten and the only one who knew about your crush on her twin. Memories from inside Westview also came to mind, from when you woke up in Wanda's kitchen after she introduced you to Pietro for the first time, a day before the introduction you actually remember, your memory coming back after “Pietro” had introduced himself to you.

Wanda had tried to explain her decision to bring you to Westview. Reasoned that you were still so depressed and she just wanted you to feel happy, to get the fairy tale ending she thought you deserved, even if it had to be without Pietro.

Wanda, who probably controlled everyone in Westview, including Agnes who had just talked about missing a man while you stared at the hallucination of his corpse in your hallway.

And she would never be cruel enough to you to give you the nightmares and hallucinations you had now.

There was no way Wanda had possessed Agnes to do this to you.

But she had also claimed not to know where the other “Pietro” came from.

As soon as the realization hit, you stumbled to your feet, the world turning as you ran out of your house, pushing past people as you tried to get to Wanda’s house as quickly as possible. She, Vision, the twins… everyone could be in danger.

This wasn’t Wanda.

If a dead robot and two probably imagined or possessed kids can even be in danger...

You didn’t bother to knock, simply storming into the house, screaming for your best friend.

She immediately reached out to touch you, giving you another once over with her eyes.

“What is going on?”, she responded, a confused look on her face as she came out of the kitchen, panic visible in her eyes as soon as she saw you. “Why are you covered in blood? What happened last night?”

“It’s Pietro’s blood, not mine.”, you said quickly, like that explained anything.

“What blood? Hell, Y/N, you look like you died twice. And what’s this about Pietro’s blood? Do you mean that impos-”

Her eyes began to glow red and you knew she was searching through your mind, trying to make sense of your words.

“You knew it wouldn’t hold for long. Me and Pietro were never as affected by your powers as others were.”, you whispered, trying to answer the unasked question that was hovering in the room.

“Not that Pietro. I mean our Pietro. The one who died in Sokovia in 2015. The one I loved… love. The one I love. It’s his blood.”

“I didn’t give you the nightmares or the hallucinations. I didn’t do that. That wasn’t me. I made sure to keep them as far away from you as I could.”, Wanda insisted, probably more to calm herself down than to prove something to you since you also didn’t think of her as capable of that cruelty.

Her eyes lost their glow but she continued to watch you before quietly saying “Go upstairs. Vision is away and the Twins are with Agnes today. Sleep, I’ll make sure you won’t have nightmares. The hallucinations wont stop if you don’t sleep. You’ll keep seeing the blood on your hands and the corpse on the floor.”

You nodded, walking up the stairs like she had told you before entering the bedroom, only pausing for a second when you saw Pietro’s corpse laying on the right side of the bed before laying down next to it.

“I know Wanda, I know. But someone else did, and I want to find out who without being under the control of someone else. I can’t help when you do that. I can’t use my powers if I don’t remember that I have them.”

Slowly, you reached out to lay your hand on his chest, the glow of your powers only slightly dimmed by the blood. If you closed the wounds maybe you would be able to pretend this was simply a happy dream. A happy dream of a life you could’ve had if you had listened to Steve's orders to stay on the ground with Hawkeye to heal civilians, or if you had simply been less of a coward and told Pietro about your feelings before that last fatal battle.

Like seeing his dead body in your hallway and being covered in his blood wasn’t already traumatizing enough, your mind had to one-up itself once again.

If, if, if.

Always those stupid useless if’s.

You carefully covered the body of the now healed hallucinated corpse with the blanket before getting more comfortable yourself and closing your eyes.

You had completely forgotten to tell Wanda about your suspicions concerning Agnes.

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff fanfiction #pietro maximoff x y/n #wandavision #wandavision fanfic

69 notes · View notes

pizzazz-party · 4 years ago

Text

Ring Analysis Part 1: Synchronizing— How It Works and What It Tells Us About Ring

...As well as the world he lives in. Our buddy Ring may explain very little about himself, but he doesn’t need to if you’re paying—obsessive—attention to detail.

(Gameplay spoilers up to World 20 under the cut.)

For a mechanic that’s important enough to merit a cutscene, and then goes on to envelop every part of the game, “synchronizing” gets a handful of lines before it’s never explicitly brought up again.

So let’s go over this scene.

“Synchronizing” is, at first glance, a simple exchange of traits. That’s not entirely wrong. Trainee does physically take on characteristics specific to Ring, like the flaming hair, and Ring does gain access to her heartbeat reading, sort of like a living stethoscope.

But what syncing actually is, is a symbiotic relationship. It’s both participants “recalibrating” themselves to the other as best as each of them are able. For a flesh-and-blood partner that’s not built for syncing, this means physically changing to become something a little closer to Ring. (More on that later.) For Ring, a magical being designed with the extra sensory input in mind, it invisibly grants him access to the other’s most invaluable resource: their exercise energy.

Like synchronizing, “exercise energy” is another lovely concept that was mentioned once and then never again. So much so that I’ve been accidentally calling it “fitness energy” for weeks and am still trying to correct my reflexes.

But exercise energy is everything. If all it takes is a simple read of a heartbeat to jumpstart a sync bond, exercise energy is the glue that cements it together. Because Ring and Trainee don’t stop being synced whenever they’re not physically touching. They separate all the time. They can put a little distance between themselves and still be at the height of synchronization, even. But let’s take a step back for a moment, and talk about that “physically changing to become something a little closer to Ring” aspect.

Say that Trainee is doing a leg move at peak performance. Her hair is flaring up. Her legs are glowing that same yellowish hue—because they’re full of exercise energy. That’s what that is. That’s what it must be. It’s what Ring himself is partially made of, seeing as the same stuff flows through his veinlike tubes. Seriously. Look at this. It’s the same goddamn color.

I can’t understate how incredibly important exercise energy is. To synchronizing, to Ring, and to literally everything else. Exercise energy is a type of life energy. In the world of Ring Fit, it’s in everything, everywhere—in varying levels of purity and concentration. When Trainee is performing a fit skill, she almost seems to absorb a mystical...something... from the open air around her, as she charges up a skill. Thin lines of light streak towards her as she lights up, not away. See for yourself.

Trainee isn’t a normal inhabitant of “Planet Fitness.” She doesn’t know how to manipulate exercise energy very well on her own. It looks like being synced with Ring has made her somewhat biologically closer to being made of exercise energy herself, and with that? The slight ability to absorb it from the air around her. It’s a really small thing, likely just a tiny boost of power she’s drawing in from her surroundings (and returning right back after a move is complete). But it’s there. It’s visibly happening. With one exception, this doesn’t occur outside of a fit battle. And that makes sense. A fit skill taking more energy than an air blast is very reasonable. Those crates littering the place are a lot less hardy than...whatever you would classify Monsters as.

I mentioned an exception. Here it is:

Victory posing is such an odd little tradition, isn’t it? It’s unskippable; Ring always insists on it. And at first glance, his instructions are weird. “Pull in energy from the ground” sounds a bit like nonsense...except in this shot, Trainee is actually standing on a glowing platform full of Exercise Energy. (Yes, that’s what that is.) The moment she’s done charging her squat power, thin lines of light streak upwards— some into Trainee. And when she raises her arms, she expels all that excess energy into the open air. You can watch the process here.

And that’s where most of the EXP from victory posing comes from—from the well of exercise energy humming beneath her feet.

Exercise energy is life energy in constant motion. It’s created (for a lack of a better word) constantly as the body moves and burns calories. It’s also expelled constantly, and this is most visible when Trainee works out. It is not, under any circumstances, meant to be trapped in the body forever. But the act of having possessed any of it at all gives Trainee EXP, a byproduct, which can be kept forever.

———

Ring says in the initial cutscene, “The more you exercise, the more synchronized we’ll be!” The more Trainee exercises, the more exercise energy her body holds at time. The more exercise energy she holds, the more alike she and Ring are in that very moment. The more alike they are—the more in sync they are.

———

The two way connection created by synchronizing is closer to a metaphysical fusion of both participants than a simple trade off. Ring’s powers are (almost but not quite) Trainee’s powers. Trainee’s body is (almost but not quite) Ring’s body. It’s both easy and hard to see where one’s work stops and the other’s begins. So let’s lay down some quick facts.

One! In terms of powers—everything Ring and Trainee can do together, Ring can do alone. It’ll be weaker. But he can do it. He’s got his own supply of exercise energy and he’s a master at manipulating it. Ring is not helpless; you are.

Two! The glowing limbs you fight with in a fit battle belong to Ring—not Trainee. Here are even some screen caps of Ring vaguely referring to them both. (It’s even in all-important blue text.)

Three! Ring is always actively contributing to your fit battles. He is never just counting reps or giving tips. As Trainee charges up a fit skill, Ring is constantly channeling the resulting energy into powering up his battle constructs. He is actively aiming said constructs for you, always.

In the case of specific fit skills, where Ring’s battle constructs immediately appear as buff as can be—it’s because Trainee is helping. A lot of what these instances have in common is the fact that the fit skills in question are less... involved?

Imagine being Trainee, and trying to keep a good aim on the enemy as you do the Mountain Climber move. (Or even squats. I do too many of those and I start disconnecting from reality.) The Ring Raise move, on the other hand, is gentler and gives Trainee a clear, unobstructed view of the enemy throughout the whole exercise. It gives her the wiggle room to try her hand at manipulating her own exercise energy directly.

With Ring and Trainee working together, the charge-up effect is therefore instantaneous.

Four! Canonically, despite the two of them being synced, Ring can shut off Trainee’s access to his powers at any time. That’s because, for them to work in the first place, Ring must be consciously activating them. In some animations at the start of a course, Trainee stretches by pulling on him at both ends. This should summon a suction vortex. But it doesn’t. Because Ring knows Trainee is just doing a pre-run stretch.

It explains why you can’t summon a Mega Ab Guard whenever you feel like it; only when Ring suggests it. Or why you can’t just suck up tokens in mini games like Dreadmill (Ring is too honest to help you cheat). Yes, it’s a game mechanic thing. But it’s a mechanic that Ring canonically controls. Trainee absolutely cannot use any of his abilities without his explicit consent. And that’s probably why she hasn’t accidentally killed somebody in combat yet—Ring is super careful. (He’s a professional, you know.)

———

Now that we have a better understanding of what exercise energy is and a better grasp on how Ring works—let’s circle back one more time to that “physically changing to become something a little closer to Ring” aspect. Because there’s one last insane thing we skipped over.

Trainee is initially the baseline in our understanding of what exercise energy looks like in a human being. Her yellow-orange flames are our constant companion—and therefore we get misled, because Trainee is an outlier. She is synced to Ring, and Ring is extraordinary. So she’s not a good example of the average person.

But in this case, despite being a literal master, Guru Andma is.

Guru Andma, “the balance master,” is the only other human character we see using attacks consisting of all three muscle groups. Her fight is a wealth of knowledge in of itself. When she flexes her arms, they fill with RED energy. When she flexes her abdomen, it fills with YELLOW energy. When she flexes her leg, it fills with BLUE energy. This is the standard for human beings. This is normal.

What this implies then, is that synchronizing with Ring has overwritten Trainee’s original energy signature. Ring’s energy is decidedly NOT human. It’s not even fit-skill yellow; it looks close, but it’s really something else entirely. Ring of course can convert Trainee’s energy into traditional reds, yellows, and blues for a fight. (Or at least, he can fake it if he doesn’t have his Color Coding ability. He once mimicked the flames of Dark Influence early on in the game; some superficial color editing is not above him.)

But yeah. Trainee’s energy is now definitely abnormal.

And yet the process didn’t seem to put her in any physical pain? I really doubt Ring would have sprung that on her if it did. (I mean, he still should have asked for permission first.) I’d wager the effects of syncing, as deep as are, aren’t permanent once the bond is dissolved. What Ring is doing—“synchronizing”—is somehow, simultaneously, extremely mystical and yet completely natural.

———

Last segment, before I let you go.

For a long time, I wondered: what are the prerequisites, that denote syncing potential? Not impressive muscles, I’m sure; it’s heavily implied Dragaux once synced with Ring, and he was infamously skinny. Could the general attitude of a person play a role, if Ring’s energy is pure positive exercise energy? Or could it be genetic? Maybe even entirely random?

I wasn’t sure until I fought the four masters, and especially after fighting Guru Andma.

I’ll bet you anything that there’s something inherently flexible about Trainee, for a human. Something more malleable, and therefore more amenable to undergoing the dramatic changes of a sync bond. And I’ll bet you further that it has something to do with the fact that Trainee had zero previous experience wielding exercise energy at the start of the game.

Because Ring tells Trainee she has potential right after identifying that she’s new.

(The less developed a person is initially, the easier it could be to sync with Ring. Whereas a person with more intensive training would be incompatible.)

And if you’re still convinced that Ring was just impressed with her muscles—please remember that Ring is not human, and does not experience life through the same lens. It’s implied he can “see” energy with more than just his eyes. It’s how you can drop him in a new temple in an unfamiliar land and he’ll still be able to tell Trainee when she’s close to the finish line. (He forgot what static stretching was that one time. He does not have these floor plans memorized.) To him, those glowing wells at the end are like straight up beacons.

He was absolutely examining her energy.

———

To Ring, syncing probably isn’t worth writing an entire essay about. It’s natural to him, instinctive. It’s Ring making a promise to watch over someone, and to have their back as they will have his. And I think that’s beautiful. Frustrating to my curiosity, but beautiful.

———

TLDR; Synchronizing is a metaphysical bond sustained through Exercise Energy, a substance mentioned once in World 1 that encompasses the whole game. It exists everywhere in everything, in different variations of intensity and purity. Ring especially is partially made of exercise energy. It’s the glowing stuff in his tubes. There’s more, but that’s the gist of it. DISCLAIMER: This is for fun! I just wanted to try my hand at explaining how the magical sentient Pilates ring works. I feel pretty strongly about my conclusions, but I’ll go back and edit this if/when/where applicable. Thank you for reading.

———

EDIT (June 20, 2021): Updated header image. Also added a link to Ring mimicking DI.

EDIT (August 12, 2021): Added links to part 2 and 3.

———

RING ANALYSIS

Part 1: Synchronizing— How it Works and What It Tells Us About Ring

Part 2: Ring’s Powers—And What They All Have In Common

Part 3: Ring’s Biology and Possible Origins

#ring fit adventure #ring fit adventure spoilers #ring #ring fit trainee #pizzazz post #pizzazz meta #also some outfit spoilers I guess beyond world 20? idk. if it bugs you.#honestly still don’t regret giving myself a deadline. Bc yeesh if I didn’t get this out now I’ll never be free of it #if ring were real I probably would strangle him #this is basically me answering some questions that I’ve always had

42 notes · View notes

concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

Late July

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Pairing: Agent Whiskey [Jack Daniels]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit explicit.

Summary: Upon hearing about you from Tequila, Jack Daniels seeks you out with a full set of emotional baggage to work through. You happily oblige, helping him craft a scene that just might grant him some peace of mind. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @cookiethewriter @culturalrebel @jackierey09 @crookedmoonsaultpunk @duker42 @agirllovespasta @nelba @pedrosbigdorkenergy @lestrange2703 @youmeanmybrain @luvley-shadow @theocatkov @miscellaneousjunkk @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @buttons-beads-lace @gooddaykate @lackofhonor

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains consensual non-consent (surrender play), light domination, roleplay, unprotected sex, frank discussion of safe words, usage of safe words, dirty talk and light bondage. Remember that fanfictions are not research and that you should never engage in any activity if you do not trust your partner. Stay safe!]

There was just something about you that put people at ease, and Ginger Ale noticed during the interview process. "You have a gift!" She had praised you, her smile unexpected and bright. "I can see why Tequila recommended you for this position."

Granted, being the 'head of first impressions' at a distillery that was actually a front for a secret intelligence agency had its ups and downs, but you enjoyed the work and (if you were honest) the exciting interactions with the Statesman agents.

Tequila, of course, would practically drape himself across your desk as he regaled you with (hopefully) exaggerated tales of his heroics. The two of you were sexually involved but preferred to keep each other at arm's length out of the bedroom, neither party particularly keen on surrendering your freedom and committing to anything serious at this point of your lives. You admired his dedication to Statesman, and he in turn respected your desire to have a successful career. He also was blatantly mooning over a certain analyst.

Ginger Ale was quieter and sharper than Tequila, her dry humor a joy to witness. She was the one who had done your interview, and she had given you the full behind the scenes tour once your background check went through. She was beautiful, charismatic and smart as a whip. You hoped to one day be as self-assured as she was.

Champ tended to keep to himself for the most part, though you had encountered him several times in the past when he dozed off in a certain chair at the end of a sunlit hallway. The elderly man was like an old tomcat, you decided, able to prowl but more than willing to take it easy.

Whiskey was often away managing the affairs of their New York headquarters and as such, was the one that you interacted with the least. He would come breezing in at all hours, a slow smile and a wink directed your way before he would saunter past. The rare occasions that he engaged you in conversation were nerve-wracking, as you were a little starstruck due to the glowing accounts both Champ and Tequila had given of his prowess in the past.

Ginger Ale was a bit more down to earth, thankfully. "He's just a man who's lost a lot, and his reasons for wanting to change things for the better may not be entirely altruistic." She had informed you concisely when you queried about the origin of one Jack Daniels. You had picked up on the veiled sadness in his dark eyes, the age that seemed to weigh him down that wasn't entirely related to years.

So when the aforementioned Statesman agent had drunkenly expressed a certain desire to you at a company party, you couldn't hide a little spike of curiosity. Mainly because the two of you interacted so rarely. Hell, you wouldn't even call yourselves friends. Tequila must have told him about your side activities.

"Ever since I lost her, I can't fuckin' bring myself to raw anyone else." The confession had come out of left field, but you had done your best to play it off like it was normal. Lord knew you had done enough paperwork in your career at Statesman to understand that agents would just kind of…say things thoughtlessly if they believed they were in a safe environment. A hazard of the job.

"What do you mean, Mr. Daniels?"

"Call me Jack. Jesus, I ain't that old." He had hiccupped sharply, grimacing. "I just mean I...it's like a mental block. I wanna', I'm excited about it, and everything's fine until I try to come and boom. Python shrivels up like a damn salted slug and I'm left holdin' the bag tryin' to explain myself." He stared into his glass, looking pensive. "Real mood killer."

"Any idea why this might be?" You had prompted, leaning against the bar and idly scanning the throngs of people around you. It wasn't every day that so many of the company's rank and file rubbed elbows with the higher-ups, but you had to assume these economic mixers were what had kept the company (and intelligence agency) on such an even keel. It was a grounding experience, a way to remind the suits of their humble beginnings.

He scoffed out a breath. "Oh I know exactly why. When I lost her, I...we had only learned a little while before that she was havin' a baby. We'd been havin' a rocky time and we were actually thinkin' of breakin' up, but that news…" Jack had tilted his head to glance your way, his brown eyes distant. "If I hadn't gotten her pregnant, she wouldn't have been out shoppin' that day, y'know?" A sad smile had quirked his mouth beneath his mustache. "My fault."

At the time, you had made a noise of sympathy and gone to lay a hand on his arm before you could think better of it. He, instead of shrugging off your touch, actually ended up twining his fingers through your own and giving your hand a light squeeze.

Agent Whiskey's past was a shadowy affair in the Statesman organization. Though to be fair, no one really asked anything about anyone. Ginger Ale reasoned that the less people knew, the safer they and Statesman were in the event of a security breach.

Anything you learned from any of the agents, you tended to keep close to your heart. It was your nature to gather useful information and foster trust for a rainy day. That personality facet had served you well as you had climbed the ranks from intern to head of first impressions, and knowing that you were someone that could be counted on to hold your cards close put many people at ease.

Including one Agent Whiskey.

"Tequila said you were good at helpin'. I'd be much obliged if you'd consider takin' a crack at my sexual baggage."

...

"Alright so for your words, you've decided on 'sixth' as your 'yes I'm into this', followed by second for 'slow down but don't break character', first for 'slow down and do break character' and finally neutral for 'full stop'." You tapped the customary notepad on your lap, glancing over at the man across the table. The two of you were currently sitting in the kitchen of the vacation cabin that your parents had willed to you, the modest dwelling often your staging ground for affairs like this. The warm wooden decor tended to make your partners feel more at ease and less vulnerable. Perceived safety was, after all, incredibly important when crafting scenarios.

Jack nodded. "Gears are easy for me to remember. Simple."

"Got it. And no kissing on the mouth. Can I kiss you in other places, or would you prefer I didn't at all?"

"Kissin's fine." Jack allowed. "Whatever you wanna' do is fine, just not on my mouth." You jotted that down. "Hey, I uh...I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate you agreein' to help. I dunno' if this will work, but…" Whiskey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Thanks. When Tequila mentioned your...extracurriculars, I figured he was jus' bein' outta' pocket again."

You grinned at that, giggling a little. "Does he get weird a lot?"

"I mean, he's uh...well, he's got his moments." Jack replied with a smile of his own.

"So," you hummed once you had checked your notes again, "after looking over all the information we've compiled, and the ideas you gave me an outline of, I'm thinking that you may want more of a 'surrender-play' kind of experience."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask how that's different from what I already suggested?"

"Look, you and I both know that I couldn't keep you from moving if you wanted to. Now, if we had a real working dynamic going on and I believed that you would listen and trust me implicitly so that you don't end up hurting yourself or me, then we might have something. But as we are right now, that's not gonna' happen." Whiskey inclined his head with a rueful chuckle, acknowledging the truth of your words. "So I propose that it's more of a scenario where all the agency is removed."

The agent leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "Explain."

"You need a scenario where you aren't in control and there's not even a chance of you being in control, taking any responsibility or guilt from the equation." You elaborated. "Basically, you would surrender your control so that you can indulge guilt-free. A lot of people do this coupled with a roleplay aspect in order to test new things that may be out of character for them."

"You coulda' jus' said you wanted to tie me up, sugar." Jack drawled. "I'll show you some good knots."

"You don't have any issues with being secured to...I guess a chair, probably? We'll keep you upright. If we sprawl you out on a bed that might be a little too vulnerable." You reasoned, waiting for his nod before you wrote it down. "I know it sounds contradictory, but I want you to be comfortable in what we do. Should I leave your clothes on?"

"If you can stand to, I'd appreciate it." The man answered with a cheeky wink. "Bein' naked and restrained is a little too close to the job description." He sighed after a moment, tipping the chair backwards as he laced his fingers behind his head. "Now I warn you, if I'm supposed to be an unwillin' party, I may display a little less Southern hospitality and a little more Southern history with my language, if you catch my drift."

You pursed your lips, squinting at him. "...is that your way of saying you might use a naughty word or two?"

You received a lazy finger-gun in reply, "bingo, cherry pie. You got any names you ain't a fan of bein' called?"

"Oh! I mean, I've heard just about everything in the book." You straightened up as a thought occurred to you, and then pointed back at him sternly. "No slurs."

"Ma'am," Jack sounded aghast, "I am not that breed of Southern gentleman. My lingo can verge on the spicy, but I sure as hell wouldn't stoop to that level."

You narrowed your eyes to drive your point home. "I really hope not." The agent inclined his head once more, putting a hand over his heart in a display of sincerity.

The front legs of the chair met the floor with a soft clatter, once again putting him on stable footing. "Now, I been wrackin' my brain tryin' to drum up a good premise like you asked, but I ain't exactly big in the screenwritin' department. I figure it could be kinda' like I'd been kidnapped? Drawin' a blank on why my kidnapper would be rawdoggin' me, maybe you can come up with somethin'?" He queried hopefully.

You furrowed your brow in thought, going silent as you carefully considered the hodgepodge of contributing factors. "Oh, I think I can manage."

...

This deck had been rigged from the start. In theory, you knew that he knew that. Still, he was certainly acting like it stung his pride a bit that he'd fallen into your 'trap' so cleanly.

Everything was going according to plan.

Whiskey struggled against the binds that secured him to the kitchen chair. His whip was safely confiscated. Lasso out of reach. Hat was still on his head. He had specifications, after all.

You left him to wriggle for almost half an hour while you got yourself ready. The man was a secret agent, after all. If he hadn't been restrained for much longer than that at any given point you would be very surprised.

You finally opened the bathroom door, sauntering out into the cabin's small kitchenette. "Miss me, love?" You crooned, committing to your role as villainous vamp stereotype number six. You had worn a plain set of underwear and an oversized white t-shirt, soft and see-through from the amount of times it had been washed. You got the feeling that if you went more elaborate, you might scare Whiskey off or make him too uncomfortable to really get into it. This scene was all about trust, and he hardly knew you. But he had sought you out for this. All you had to do was follow through.

"Was beginnin' to worry that you forgot about me, ma'am." The agent drawled back, his smile tightly sardonic and his low voice curling hot in your belly. "You fixin' to untie me yet?"

You clicked your tongue, the noise disappointed. "Whiskey, sweetheart, where's the fun in that? If I untie you, you'll just kill me."

"Can't blame a man for tryin'." Jack was absolutely in his element right now. He looked furious.

You ambled around behind him, slinging your arms around his neck and resting your weight on him briefly. "Remember," you murmured in his ear. "If you need me to slow down, or need to stop entirely, you say…?"

"Second, first and neutral." The agent replied readily. You patted his cheek.

"Good boy." You praised.

"Ain't my first rodeo." Whiskey's tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips and you wanted to reassure him, but you knew you had a job to do.

"Now, can I get you a light refreshment? Something to drink? Maybe some chips?" You offered, moving to the small refrigerator that you had stocked a little earlier in the day. Planning was imperative for engagements like this. "I have water, sweet tea, Coke…"

"Dammit woman, stop beatin' around the bush! Why the hell do you have me hogtied to this damn chair?!" Jack erupted.

"So rude." You chided him, removing a water for yourself and then leaning casually against the counter. "You really want to know, Mr. Whiskey?"

"Obviously." He scowled.

"Well be a patient boy and maybe I'll tell you." You hummed, not making eye contact as you unscrewed the cap on the water bottle. "It was more than enough trouble for me to get you here in the first place, big shot. Don't rush me."

"Listen, I'll be the first to tell you that I probably ain't who you're lookin' for." He said bluntly. "I'm just a simple liquor tycoon, nothin' more."

"Mr. Whiskey, if you continue to insult my intelligence maybe I will decide I've got the wrong man. And then I'll just get rid of you." You swirled the water in the bottle, fixing him with a thoughtful look.

"You're talkin' a mighty big game, woman." Jack grumbled.

You sloshed some of the water on your thin white shirt as if by accident, and began daubing at the gauzy fabric aimlessly. "Whiskey-"

"It's Jack." He spat.

"Oh, we're on a first name basis? How exciting!" You teased him, laughing when he muttered angrily under his breath. He was clearly enjoying the role of 'belligerent definitely-not-a-spy'. "Alright then, Jack. I won't beat around the bush, as you so tactfully put it."

"Hallelujah, some goddamn cooperation." He replied in a sulky tone.

"So, Jack, I need you to come inside me. Strictly so I can bypass Statesman's biomechanical security systems. It's nothing personal, I just assumed you would be the easiest target, you know?" You remarked with a shrug. "The flirty cowboy with the filthy mouth." He stared at you and you raised an eyebrow, half-convinced that his reaction was legitimate. "What? You do have a reputation."

"I hate to break it to ya', but you got the wrong beverage. You're lookin' for Tequila, ma'am." Jack retorted, his voice a little raspy. "You want...what?"

"I need you to come inside me so I can use the your genetic signature to bypass the security." Granted, you were pretty certain that Statesman used exclusively fingerprints, retina scans and time locks, but Whiskey had told you to weave a good story for the setup, not necessarily an accurate one.

Jack swallowed hard. "You've got bats in your fuckin' belfry, woman. You expect me to-"

"Oh no, that's the beauty of this arrangement." You interrupted him, still smiling. "I don't expect you to do anything aside from sit there and stay still while I ride you."

"Jesus fuck woman, you--shit, isn't there some other way to do this? I ain't keen on the prospect, but if there's literally any other way…"

"Sorry. This is the only solution that my superiors could get behind." You sighed, feigning regret. "And we might be here a while, from what I've heard." Jack's eyes darted to yours and he flushed, working his jaw. "Don't look so glum! I'm one of the best in my field. I'm sure I'll be able to compensate for your...lack of investment."

"You touch me and I swear to God-"

"Ah ah, naughty boys get gagged." You threatened gently, walking your fingers up the side of his face to stroke them back down his jawline. Jack glared at you, his dark gaze fairly luminous with fury and maybe just a touch of poorly-veiled interest. "Be a good boy and I'll let you talk as much as you want. Maybe I'll even let you play with my tits, hmm?" You asked, cupping your breasts through your still-damp shirt. "Would you like that, love?"

"I…" Jack trailed off, then snapped his eyes back up from your chest. "No!"

You tapped his nose, winking. "Oh I think you would. Don't be so stubborn, Jack." You cocked your head to the side. "No one from Statesman even knows you're gone. No one is coming to rescue you." You informed him, all the playfulness evaporated from your voice. "You're mine now, Jack. My own personal key-card."

"You won't get away with this." Jack snarled.

"I think I already have." You knelt between his legs, running your hands over the jeans that covered his thighs. He squirmed, trying to dislodge you, but you just moved with him. You dug your nails into his thighs. "You keep wiggling and I'm going to have to tighten the ropes, Jack. Is that what you want?"

"Oh you filthy fuckin' woman, you absolute bitch, let me go!"

"Hmm," you tapped your chin as he kept jerking and straining against the knots. "No."

Jack froze when your fingers unbuttoned the button at the top of his fly. "Now wait, wait just a damn minute, y-you can't--" he tried to plead.

"Oh I can. And I will." You looked up at him. "As long as we're in the right gear?"

"Sixth, sixth." He affirmed, flashing you a quick smile. You nodded and seamlessly resumed your play.

The zipper of his fly opened devastatingly slow, the agent exhaling raggedly when you pulled up his shirt and palmed his groin gently through the fabric of his boxer briefs. His cock was already half-hard, and you pointed that out with a mean little smirk on your face. "Oh no, looks like someone's interested." You crooned, rubbing your index finger over the head of his still-clothed dick.

"Fuck off, you...y-you-" he swore, rolling his shoulders as if he was testing his bonds. "You little bitch."

"Temper temper." You chided, ducking your head down to mouth over the fabric of his boxers. Jack gasped out another swear over your head, his hips twitching up to meet you before he slammed them back down. "Methinks someone doth protest too much." You snorted, splaying your fingers on the newly-revealed skin of his stomach. "We could make this so much simpler if you would just give in, Jack." You didn't miss the way his skin jumped at your touch, and you smiled against his boxers.

"You'll--you'll have to do better than that." Whiskey breathed. "You think just any ol' woman can get me up?"

You stood, leaning in close and pressing your mouth to his ear. His whole body flinched when you wrapped your fingers around his cock and gave him a nice, slow stroke. "Oh, poor thing. You must believe you're really special, hmm? God's gift to mankind every time you take someone to bed." You mocked, your teeth and tongue laving over his earlobe. "We're all so lucky to have you, Jack."

"Hhn-" Jack's shoulders went stiff, the man obviously biting his tongue.

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart. I'm going to get you hard. Then, I'm going to use your cock. And all you have to do, my lovely, handsome cowboy, is come inside me." You informed him, drawing a finger beneath his chin. "More than once, preferably."

"I'm not usually a man to voice my own shortcomin's, but I must warn you that this will be a futile-" Whiskey's words hitched in his throat when you stroked him again. "Fuck, no, don't touch me like that, you--"

"Stop playing hard to get, Jack." You murmured, slinking your free hand up the back of his neck to massage his scalp right beneath the band of his hat. "Give up."

"Never." He hissed even as his head lolled forward, granting you more access to rub his neck.

"Pity." You settled back down between his legs and wrapped your lips around his cock.

"No, no, dammit-" Whiskey growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Don't you fuckin'...no, no, don't use your tongue the-ah f-uck--" His protest died in a pitiful groan when his cock met the back of your throat. "Oh, you--fuckin'--you've got to be shittin' me woman, the whole-?" He grunted out haphazardly as you relaxed your throat and took him all the way down to the base. "You think y-you can take advantage of me jus' cuz' it's been a while since I got laid? Fuck you."

You hummed around his cock, wanting to giggle when he twitched and swore loudly. Your fingers dove past the hem of your underwear, and you moaned against him as you ran your index in slow, steady circles around your clit.

"I ain't fuckin' you, and I sure as shit am not gonna' come in your pussy." Jack snarled.

"Oh yes you are." You sang, rising to your feet and slipping your panties off. The white t-shirt came next, baring your breasts to the air-conditioned environment.

Jack seemed to forget that he was supposed to be vehemently against this yet again as he just...watched while you teased your nipples. You tugged at the taut peaks, rolling them between your fingers and making a show out of the whole bit.

"I can't wait to have you inside me, filling me up, just pumping me full of your come." You said with a smile, sauntering over until you would be in reach if his hands were free. Jack's tongue made a nervous reappearance and you tugged his chin upwards so you could see his eyes. "Are we still in gear? Or do we need to shift?" You asked. He seemed slightly dazed.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, s-sixth." He stammered. "Sixth, holy shit."

"Mm. Don't disappoint me and maybe I'll let you live." You remarked smoothly, swinging one leg over his lap and straddling him. Jack's shoulders were rigid again and you kneaded at them surreptitiously, trying your best to keep him in the scene and out of his own head.

You were well on your way to soaking wet with arousal. There was nothing better than when you had a partner that trusted you, regardless of whether you had truly earned that trust. Just the fact that they had blind faith in you to execute the endeavor that they needed...it was heady and sweet and you loved every second.

You rutted your pussy against the underside of Jack's cock, the man snapping his teeth at the sensation. "Too good?" You taunted, laughing when he swore again.

"I can't believe that you think I'm fuckin' enjoyin' th--look, any dick perks up at heavy pet-"

Cutting Whiskey off mid-sentence was quickly becoming a favorite pastime, you realized as you angled your hips and let the head of his cock push past your pussy lips. "In, just a little, give you a taste, sweetheart…" you sighed, rocking your hips forward and back but not allowing him to sink any deeper into you. "There, that's not so bad, is it?" You cajoled as he shuddered beneath you. "Just keep being good, my sweet cowboy, and this will all be over so much sooner."

"No, no-" He struggled to move, to do anything, but you had made certain to tie him exactly as he had specified. "Dammit, when I get free of here, I'll--"

"Shh, you think too much." You tapped your index finger to his lips, smoothing it over the bristle of his mustache. "Focus on your job right now, and everything will be fine."

Jack turned his face away, inadvertently presenting the thick column of his neck to you. And you, channeling your inner villain, leaped at the opportunity to lick and bite at the bared skin. He made a strange noise, a combination of a moan and a whine that had you raising an eyebrow.

"Is someone a little sensitive there?"

"No, I am not." He answered through gritted teeth. "I hate that you're touchin' me, that's all!"

"Hmm, it doesn't sound like you hate it." You mused, suckling gently at the spot where his jaw met his throat. You were very careful not to leave marks, as that had been another specification. Whiskey struggled underneath you again, only succeeding in pumping his cock up into you slightly.

"Don't, don't--" His voice actually cracked and you smiled, nuzzling your nose beneath his jawline and letting his dick settle deeper.

"Oh no, it seems like you do want to fuck me after all." You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back and stroking over the base of his cock with two fingers. "Warming up to the idea of being my little fuck toy, Jack?" You teased, noting the way his knuckles whitened from his grip on the rope and his Adam's apple bobbed with the force of his convulsive swallow at your words. "I could just keep you here like this forever, you know. All tied up, helpless for me…" You squeezed the base of his cock and he gasped, trying to stifle the noise. "Soon, I'd have you trained so that you couldn't come from any other pussy aside from mine. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Without waiting for an answer, you let the last few inches of his dick enter you. You leaned back on his thighs, feeling the muscles coil and strain beneath your touch as you reached down and grazed your clit. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, those brown eyes fixated on the motions of your fingers even as his cock split you open. You were grateful that he was secured, you weren't sure if you would have been able to take him otherwise. His cock curved thickly against your back wall, the engorged head throbbing back and forth over the area that made your whole body shudder in delight.

Whiskey's jaw was taut, his shoulders set in a rigid line that made you ache to get him to come undone in you.

"You're so quiet." You pouted, raising your hand and brushing your wet index finger over his slack lower lip. "Aren't you having a good time?"

His chest abruptly expanded, like he had forgotten to breathe for a moment or two. "Fuck you." Whiskey seethed, making you chuckle softly. "I ain't nobody's goddamn fuck toy."

"Sweetheart," you chided as you sat up. "That's not a very nice thing to say to the person warming your cock right now." You deliberately clenched down on him and Jack swore under his breath, shaking his head. "I can make you feel so good, Whiskey, if you just give me what I want." You insisted, cupping his face and pulling halfway off of his cock.

"N-N...No." He replied weakly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and shaking out your shoulders. "Well, I tried." Your hands landed on his shoulders and you gripped down to steady yourself, your hips meeting his own with a wet slap! of skin. Jack's chest heaved, his eyes closed and head tilted back as you began to ride him roughly. "All I wanted was for you to come in me. I don't feel like that's asking for much!" You complained petulantly, rolling your hips against his when he was hilted in you with an agonizingly slow grind of your body.

Jack bit out a low "fuck," those tense shoulders trembling under your touch. You tucked your face into his neck to tease the sensitive area even more, your tongue tracing random patterns that made him squirm and writhe underneath you. "I don't--can't, can't, don't make me--" he tried to protest, his words fractured and pitiful.

"Yes you can, and you're going to." You snapped, taking a handful of hair at the nape of his neck so you could urge his head back further, leaving his throat at your mercy. "You're coming in me, Jack! Give up!"

...

"First!" He choked out, and you immediately slowed to a crawl. Your touch on him gentled significantly, no longer demanding but cradling, caressing.

"Easy, easy." You soothed, the unrelenting assault of your perfect hips gone to a slow and careful rhythm, back and forth like a porch swing in the summer heat. Your eyes searched his own, concern shining through.

Jack was speechless, his blind panic melting away at the sound of your regular voice. What the hell just happened? He licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they had gotten. "Sorry, I uh-"

"No apologies." You murmured. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Would you like to stop now?"

Whiskey took a long moment, running a mental check on his body. Nothing was sore, nothing seemed out of line. Everything was raring to go.

Everything aside from his brain, that is. The damn thing wouldn't stop conjuring up scenes of you pregnant and everything going to absolute fucking shit. It didn't matter that he had zero attachment to you, it didn't matter that you were on birth control. This was how it always was.

Every damn time things got serious with a new interest, "oh, let's start a family," Whiskey just wanted to curl up into a ball. Without fail, like clockwork, he would shut down.

And then the accusations would start, the distrust, "How come you can do it with protection but not without?" and it was disheartening, crushing to go through again and again. Explaining didn't seem to do a lick of good, it was always just that he was stringing people along, that he was a damn selfish prick, that he didn't care about what his partner wanted.

That couldn't be further from the truth, of course, but maybe that was his own fault for not dropping the bomb before getting attached to someone. He just couldn't ever seem to justify asking a person on their second or third date, "hey so what's your thoughts on having kids?" It felt manipulative, cheap, and if he was being honest, he knew for a fact that sometimes just the idea of having children was enough to scare a potential interest off.

You were the first person to try and help Jack really wrap his head around this whole issue. And yeah, that was the whole point in sussing you out, but…

Tequila didn't tell him that you actually gave a shit, or at least you were damn good at acting like you did. Whiskey bit his lip. "I'm okay." He said finally, trying for a smile.

"Anything chafing? Do you need some water?"

"I…" Jack trailed off. "Huh, I admit I am a bit parched. But that means you'd have to get up." He realized unhappily.

"Were you enjoying yourself?" You asked, sounding curious.

Whiskey got the hysterical idea in his head of you pulling out some sort of satisfaction survey at the end of your engagement, the notion making him smirk slightly. "God, yeah. I...yeah." He flushed a little bit. "Dunno' if I ever got this far after…after all my mental hangups and stuff. The fact that I don't have a say in the matter seems to be helpin', though."

"Okay, don't go anywhere. I'll get you some water." You patted his thigh, cautiously settling your feet on the floor and then going to stand with a quivery little gasp that absolutely stroked his ego.

Jack couldn't help his own groan at the loss of your heat, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Damn it woman, has anyone ever told you that your pussy is fuckin' perfect?" He muttered, his usual honeyed words suddenly clumsy in his mouth. "I mean, hell."

You laughed, bending over to dig in the small fridge for another water. Whiskey felt his entire body throb at the sight of you presenting yourself to him like that, and he sucked in a breath at your obvious teasing. Even in the soft light of the kitchen, he could see the glisten of the wetness between your legs. Hell yes, he found himself thinking stupidly as you turned back around.

"I'm just glad that you're doing alright. That's the most important part to me, after all." You assured him, unscrewing the cap on the water and tipping it to his lips.

Jack gulped greedily, feeling a few droplets escape his mouth and run down his neck to blot his collar. "I am. One hundred percent." He said firmly after he had slaked his thirst. "Let's keep goin'."

"If you're sure, absolutely." You acquiesced, smiling again. Placing the water bottle on the kitchen table, you then swung your leg over his thighs like you were vaulting back into the saddle. Jack held his breath, waiting for you to welcome his cock back into your body. And God he was so hard, he couldn't remember ever being this hard, what the hell--

But strangely, you didn't immediately resume from where you had left off. Instead, you put your arms around his neck and actually rested your forehead against his own, bumping his hat upwards.

Jack swallowed roughly, confused.

"Let me take this from you." You whispered. Whiskey felt pinned by your stare, he felt as if you could see every terrible thing he had ever done, every transgression laid bare under the weight of your gaze. "Let go of it. I have you. I won't let anything happen to you."

The words washed over him, soft and sweet. Your fingers slipped up into the hair at the nape of his neck to toy with the mussed ends that lurked there. The whole exchange was oddly intimate and Jack found himself at a loss yet again, simply grating out, "sixth," when he couldn't come up with anything else to say.

You reached down and stroked his cock, rubbing the head of it against your clit. And Jesus he could feel you, the difference in heat, the slick--

"Are you gonna' take it from me, sweet girl?" He hissed through his teeth like it wounded him to ask, trying desperately to cling to the illusion that he wasn't willing. "Take everythin' I've got?"

The blur between reality and this playdate was getting messier by the second. He wanted to fuck you, wanted to bury himself in you, spend every last drop inside the hot embrace of your quivering cunt. He wanted that. Jesus Christ, this wasn't part of the bargain.

This was a pantomime, specially designed pornography that existed only to coax a very specific reaction from his confused body. So why did he wish he had met you years ago? Why was he suddenly hoping and praying that the sounds you were making were legitimate instead of exclusively for his benefit, hoping that you were also enjoying this?

You angled your hips and sank back down on his lap, your hands going to your breasts where you proceeded to fondle and tease them until your nipples looked like they ached.

Whiskey fucking ached himself to wrap his lips around one pert little peak, swirl his tongue across the tip and make you come undone, rut his dick up into you until you cried out his name and soaked him--

Whoa cowboy, he chastised himself, a little startled by how sharp the longing was. You just kept fucking yourself on his cock, that hot, wet little pussy molded perfectly to every ridge of his member and he had never been this hard, this ready in his life. Despite the air conditioning in the cabin, your skin shone with sweat from all the work you were putting in and Whiskey couldn't recall a time where he had been more appreciative of someone else accomplishing a task within his field of vision.

Your hand slipped down, down, and Jack found himself following the trajectory until it delved between your legs and you started playing with yourself. "Jack," you crooned his name and it was like a prayer, reverent and soft, tender enough to coil itself around his lungs and choke him to death without a whisper of protest. You parted your legs even wider in his lap, exposing yourself to him so he could watch his cock slide in and out of you, so he could see himself fucking you open.

"Are you gonna' come for me, sweet girl?" He gasped, craning his neck and managing to tilt his head so he could mutter into your ear, "you just gonna' wrench one out for me, beautiful?"

"Mm, no, I'm not coming until after you come." You whimpered, still moving your hand. "But I'm so close, Jack. I want to come."

Your plaintive whine had him ablaze. God, he had never wanted to please someone so damn badly in his life. "I know you do, sweet girl." He murmured huskily, exhaling hot over the shell of your ear and loving the way you quivered in his lap. "You're so good, lettin' me blow my load before you get off--gonna' pump me dry when you come, aren't you? Just keep me inside you until that little pussy is all fucked out," he growled, barely aware of the words that tumbled from his mouth.

All he knew is that you were all a-tremble at his voice, your body as hot as late July against his chest, your eyes heavy with adoration that he did not deserve and God, he couldn't get used to that look even if it was fake. What if you stayed? he wondered absently. What if you stayed?

Oh fuck, he was about to come. Panic jabbed like the blade of a knife between his shoulder blades and Whiskey went silent, his teeth bearing down on his lower lip and his eyes slamming shut as he focused harder than he ever had in his life.

The smell of you, the sounds, the heat, the little spasms of your cunt around his cock…

Yes. Yes, God yes, he could do this--

"Come in me, sweetheart." Begging him, pleading, demanding, "Jack-!" You cried his name.

Whiskey groaned hoarsely, so low it was almost painful, and let go. He bucked his hips up against you as best as he could, minute little thrusts while he came harder than he had in years. "Oh," he snarled, gritting his teeth, "fuckin' Christ woman, I think you've ruined me, Jesus fuck."

Your hands threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck again and you held him, not tightly, but just enough to keep him steady, anchored. "There," you said abruptly, the snide, put-upon tone of your role contrasting wildly with the gentleness of your touch, "was that so difficult?"

Jack burst out laughing, not overly concerned with how strange of a reaction that was. Hell, was he relieved? "Jesus fuckin' Christ, you're great." He remarked breathlessly. "I don't even know what just happened."

"Oh?" You replied, raising an eyebrow. "The mess between my legs seems to allude to you possibly having an orgasm. Jury's still out though."

He grimaced apologetically, glancing down. "Sorry darlin'. It's been a while, y'know?" You rose up off of him again and he grunted as his cock slipped free from your body. Whiskey felt half-drunk, relief and release combining into a potent cocktail that left him boneless in the chair.

You quickly put your shirt back on and then crouched at his feet, beginning the arduous process of untying him. Jack just sat there, watching you drowsily. He couldn't do much else, really. "Any numbness or chafing?" You asked quietly, stirring him momentarily from his daze.

"Nah, nothin' yet." He replied, straightening his freed left leg and rotating his ankle in his boot. "A little stiff, but I've survived worse than that."

"And how do you feel?" You questioned, "physically and emotionally."

Jack gnawed at his lower lip, trying to force his sluggish brain past the haze of serotonin in order to give you a satisfactory answer. "...good." He said finally, scrambling to elaborate, "or uh, better, I guess. More okay than I've been in a fuckin' while." It wasn't a lie, he was surprised to discover. He hadn't actually put much stock into this endeavor, figuring it would be a fun little diversion that would end just like every other time. Of course, it didn't hurt that you were easy on the eyes, prettier than a peach if he was being honest with himself.

Your smile was bright and Jack's stomach knotted confusingly. "I'm glad."

His right leg was released and he shifted his weight in the seat, groaning happily when his hip popped. "Hey, wait." The agent belatedly realized, "you didn't-?"

"We were here for you." You reminded him. "Not me."

"Whoa now, that don't seem fair at all!" Whiskey protested, taken aback by your nonchalance. "You just put in all the work!"

Your laugh tripped down his spine like an aftershock. "Don't get bent out of shape! It's standard policy, Mr. Whiskey. Once the desired result of the scene has been acquired, the scene ends and I start with aftercare."

"B-But--you didn't get to get off though!"

"Me 'getting off' wasn't specified in our planning."

"I needed to specify that shit?! I figured you'd just kinda'..." His right arm was free now and Jack seized the opportunity to make a certain gesture, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, I was at your mercy!" He continued, bewildered. "You totally coulda' just kept goin'-"

"Yes, and that's exactly why when the desired result has been achieved, the scene ends." You interjected firmly. "Because you trusted me enough to let me take control, and I'm not about to break that trust by doing something selfish on a whim."

Jack exhaled hard, scooting his hat a little further back on his head so he could study you. You didn't look disappointed, or annoyed with him. He wondered how many times you had fielded ignorant questions like his own and he cringed at himself. "I'm...shit, I'm sorry. I don't have any right to be all shitty about it." He apologized as you moved out of his field of view to untie the rope securing him to the back of the chair. "I just feel like you worked so hard an' got nothin' out of your end of the bargain."

"It's sweet of you to be concerned about that, but don't take it personally, okay?" You assured him, "I do this because I enjoy it. The whole experience, not just the finale." The ropes around his chest sagged and Jack slid forward a bit in the seat, relaxing.

"Can I get that water again? Christ, I need a cigarette and a tumbler of the strong stuff after all that." He joked, clumsily tucking his cock back into his boxers. You pressed the bottle to his hands and he nearly dropped it, chuckling self-consciously. "Whups, sorry. I had my fists all bunched up so my fingers are stiff." Jack proceeded to down the rest of the bottle, wiping his mouth and mustache with the back of his hand after the fact. "So...what exactly is it you do for Tequila?" He queried nosily.

You laughed at him and God, God he loved the sound of your laugh. "That, Mr. Whiskey, is on a need-to-know basis. Just like this little soiree between the two of us." You chided, your eyes bright with good humor. "I would never violate a partner's trust in me."

Jack tipped the bottle in your direction, as if making a toast. "I'll drink to that, partner. What's next on the menu?"

"We'll talk out the scene and wind back down. Get cleaned up. I'll probably…" you paused, squinting at the clock over the sink. "You want some pizza? There's a joint not far from here that serves pies and chicken wings until midnight."

Jack groaned appreciatively, "I knew you were my kinda' gal. Lead the way to the debrief, ma'am."

It didn't really matter in the long run, he supposed. You obviously weren't interested in anything serious (if only because he figured that your flings with the stereotypical 'bad boy' Tequila would have become more regular in spite of the younger man's painful crush on Ginger Ale), and he could respect that. Still though, he couldn't help feeling a touch morose over the possibility of never engaging with you again.

He toyed with the idea of asking you for another 'appointment', but dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it arrived. Better to quit while he was ahead.

Or rather, he amended ruefully as he settled down across from you in the diner booth, his hair still damp and curling slightly beneath his hat from the quick wash he had indulged in at your cabin, better to quit now before I make even more of a fool of myself.

Part Two

#jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman: the golden circle #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character #agent whiskey imagine #consensual noncon #whew where did this come from #enjoy!#working things out

347 notes · View notes

1kook · 5 years ago

Text

paint job, hand job

a some way, some how jk smut drabble ((there’s references to it but honestly this could be read alone)) tags; established relationship, more autoshop fun, handjobs, praise pink, spitting :/, nipple play, jk gets pampered basically, hints of domesticity notes; I wrote sw,sh bc I specifically wanted to write this scene and in the end I forgot about it…. so here it is in drabble form 🤩

also thank u to my buddy @kigurumu for reading this over for me 🖤🥺 no more wrong usage of verb tenses🤩 and u have rumu to thank for it!!!!!! also thank rumu for sliding me this gif v.v

In the past few months, you’ve come to learn a multitude of new things about Jungkook. He was still as wonderful and endearing as he’d been his whole life, and with no soul-crushing secrets between you two, you were exposed to a whole new side of him. There were, of course, a lot of nice things, tiny actions you had only just begun to notice; the way his eye twitched when he was looking at a car, the mindless way he’d bump his foot against a wheel when he was thinking. But for all the wonderful things Jungkook was, you would also catch sight of weirder quirks. Not weird in that they made him a terrible person, but weird as in they weren’t exactly qualities the majority of society strived to have. There weren’t many, but the ones you knew of weren’t exactly ideal to your position as his girlfriend.

One, he was extremely bad at asking for help. One time you caught him floating through the bread aisle at the supermarket, hands drifting over the plastic bags as if his touch alone would remind him which was your preferred brand. It was amusing watching him wander like a ghost until you finally walked up behind him, gestured towards a loaf. You didn’t mind little things like this, after all you were very picky about buying the correct brands, and Jungkook knows this. At the time, you thought it was adorable. Overtime, however, you can admit that his fifteen minute detour to the bread aisle could have easily been cut in half with one simple text your way.

Two, he was easily stressed. Jungkook’s job was pretty grueling during the fall, when college kids were back on the roads and fucking up their cars every chance they got. Thanks to the multitude of employees on his team, he was never doing too many repairs at once. But every so often, he’d find a project that spoke to him and he’d pour every ounce of dedication into it. He always did good, always left customers happy. The real obstacle was Jungkook’s own need to always one-up himself. He was perpetually unsatisfied with his work, no matter how many times people praised him.

Lastly, and probably where you find yourself struggling the most, was his inability to communicate these things. He never asked for help, never told you he was feeling stressed. It was a guessing game with him, trying to figure out if he needed some extra support or not. You slipped up at times, tried to help him with something only for him to wave you off with an amused smile.

But there were other times where he desperately needed you and didn’t know how to ask. Like now, the shop completely dark save for a lamp shoved up beside his lonely form in the empty garage.

Rolling your sore ankles around once, your heels clack loudly as you enter the space, keys tossed somewhere onto the metal tabletop as you set to work preparing him a snack. His newest project was repairing a beat up Ford GT from the early 2000’s, a silver body with dark blue decals running over the hood. He had found it somewhere by his mom’s house, fell in love, and had been on a mission to revive it since. All this would’ve been fine, normally, if Jungkook wasn’t so set on getting everything perfect down to the last detail. Tonight, it was fixing the exterior. The garage reeked of paint.

It had been like this for the past three days. You would come over, catch him cooped up in the garage late after working hours, and make him something to eat. The weekend had been okay because you had stayed over most of the day and checked in on him when you could. But Monday was trickier to plan around; one glance at the clock told you it was a little past nine.

That morning, as you packed your lunch, you had been mindful of setting aside some for him too. Now, as you pulled a plastic container of washed and scalped strawberries for him, you were glad you had thought ahead.

It’s much brighter where he is compared to the rest of the garage, the yellow glow of the lamp glaring down at where he’s carefully running a brush against the edge of one, straight line. If he hears you come closer, he doesn’t acknowledge it, furrowed brows narrowed at the metal before him. Setting the container on a tool cart beside him, you lean down to brush your lips against his cheek. “Hi,” you murmur, wait for him to mindlessly turn his head and kiss you.

He does, a quick kiss, before diving back into his work. A beat of silence, and then, “hi, baby,” quietly, almost robotically. You don’t mind, leaning over his shoulder to glance at how perfectly he manages to paint along a straight edge, even with you breathing over his neck. He’s got the stool raised up today to properly lean over the hood of the car. Shorter than you still, but higher up than how you usually find him beneath a car. After a moment you return your gaze to the side of his face, pink bottom lip caught between his teeth as his eyes scan over his work, round glasses barely clinging to his nose. Cute, you think, faintly nudging the spectacles up the bridge of his nose for him. He mutters a soft, “thanks.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders when he finally leans away from the car, dark eyes scanning over the paint job. Occasionally you pluck a strawberry out from the container, hold it to his lips as he munches through it, puckered lips mindlessly opening and closing for you. You don’t stop until he’s eaten half of them, by which you then move on to your daily questioning. “What else d’you eat today?” You ask.

It takes him a moment to respond. “Subway,” he says, gestures with a nod at the discarded wrappers in the trash.

“And when was that?”

“Around noon.”

You sigh, rest your forehead on his shoulder. “Baby, that was a long time ago. Have you even showered today?” You ask, tug the beanie off his head to get a whiff of his hair. It smells okay, but you have a feeling his last shower was yesterday night. Jungkook doesn’t say anything but at the first brush of your fingers through his hair, he dissolves. His head rolls back, desperate to feel your touch on him for the first time in a while. You snort, dragging your nails along his scalp. “Feel good?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, body loosening. “So good.”

You beam, trace your fingers down the curve of his neck, until goosebumps are springing up. “You’re so tense,” you note, hands drifting to rub over his shoulders. Jungkook sighs, head falling between his shoulders as you get to work on them. “You need to relax, honey.”

“I know,” he sadly agrees, and, like a baby, stretches his arms up cutely, before letting himself slouch again. You let your hands drop, wrapping your arms loosely around his chest. “But I wanna do good.”

“You always do good,” you tell him, squeezing his middle in reassurance. Jungkook sighs like he doesn’t believe you. “But,” you add, and at this he visibly deflates. “You’d do even better if you relaxed every now and then. No one’s waiting on this car. It’s just for fun, remember?”

He’s always had this obsession with perfection. You suspect it stems from his past, his relationship with Sojin, and most importantly, his relationship with her dad. One can only take so much criticism from their lover’s parents until they snap. Snap, or begin to believe it’s true. He must’ve suffered through so much in their time together and never once did he fight back, a thought that makes you frown as you watch his knee bounce nervously.

Another sigh. You kiss behind his ear, rubbing your hands soothingly over his chest. However, you greatly underestimate how strongly your thirst for Jungkook runs, because even now with him all mopey in your arms, you want nothing more than to please him.

A subtle brush over his abdomen, and Jungkook inhales a tight gasp, abs curling beneath your wandering hands. The sweatshirt he's wearing is your only obstacle. Pressing your lips to the mole on the back of his neck, you move your mouth to his ear. “Let me take care of you?” You murmur, nibbling at one of the tiny hoops that lines his ears.

He tenses up, turning his head, half-lidded eyes analyzing your features. After a moment, he nods, cheeks flushed.

“Good boy,” you purr, hands creeping beneath the hem of his top, faintly tracing over his skin. Jungkook lets out a shaky exhale, muscles tensing under your touch. Another kiss beneath his ear.

It’s rare that he lets you do this, let’s you pamper him while he does nothing. Jungkook was a fairly proactive lover, always making sure you were completely satisfied before anything else. In the past few months of being in a relationship with him, you can hardly remember a time he came without you.

Which is why you take extra care gliding your hands up his chest, over his pecs. His heartbeat thunders beneath your palm, skin so soft and kissable. You’ll save that for another day, you think, tracing a finger over his nipple. It hardens quickly, and you don’t miss the way he shifts in his seat as you begin rolling it between your fingers. “You like that?” You hum, lips pressed against his ear.

It’s so easy to get as close as you’d like, breasts pressing against his back. Jungkook nods, shaky breaths escaping his throat.

While one hand busies itself on his chest, tugging at the sensitive buds until he’s jolting in his seat, the other creeps back around his waist. You run your hand along the skin above his waistband and relish in the way his muscles twitch, until you’re finally slipping it down over his sweats.

His cock is hard, painfully so, and a soft moan escapes him when you run your hand over his length, cupping the head gently. “Look how hard you’ve gotten,” you tease, pressing your palm down more forcefully. Jungkook huffs. “Just from me playing with your nipples,” you chuckle, kissing down the side of his neck. Even through the fabric, you can feel every twitch of his cock, every throb as he grows more and more aroused.

“You like having your nipples played with?” You ask, abandoning his cock to slip both your hands up his shirt again. Jungkook complains with a soft whine, rolling his head back to the ceiling. He’s choked off when you catch both nipples in your hands, pinch the pebbled buds. His hips squirm against the stool, rutting up into nothing, as you continue over his chest. “How does it feel, sweetheart?”

“G-Good,” he gasps, knuckled fists trembling on his knees, pale from how tight he squeezes them. “Can you…?”

“Can I what?” You hum, finally releasing him in favor of gliding your hands down his stomach and over his thighs teasingly. He’s pliant under your touch, muscular thighs reduced to two trembling masses at your every touch.

Jungkook bites down a whimper, eyes trained on the hands that dance over his lower half, barely brushing over his cock like he wanted them to. “Kook?” You croon, right against his ear. He bucks into the air, his head finally lolling back to rest against your shoulder. “Finish your sentence, babe.”

He nods but you can tell he doesn’t remember what he wanted anymore, eyes rolling back behind his foggy glasses. You smirk, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. “I, um,” he falters, legs spreading wider as you continue massaging your palms over them. “You…um.” A few more stuttered ‘ums’ later, and then, nothing.

After a moment it’s obvious he won’t say anymore, mind a frazzled mess as he falls headfirst into the sensations you’re bestowing upon him. “It’s not proper to say ‘um’ so many times,” you scold, finally let your hand rest over his cock. He sucks in a breath, teeth clenched. “Good boys don’t do that, y’know.”

“S-Sorry,” he chokes out, and you forgive him with a squeeze around the head of his cock. “Wanna be good,” Jungkook pants, voice strung high.

“I know you do,” you murmur, kissing down his neck as your hand continues rubbing over his cock. His hips circle, body sinking further back onto you as he melts under your touches. “Wiggle your pants down for me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yes,” he concedes, hands scrambling for his bottoms. Unravelling yourself from around his waist, you wrap your arms around his shoulders instead, watching him as he struggles to tug the rest of his jumpsuit down.

“Kook?” you call, watching his trembling hands fight with his boxers. “relax, okay?”

He nods, takes a deep breath, and then slowly tugs his bottoms down. He doesn’t manage to get that far before his eagerness wins over, and he’s struggling to push them down past the bulge of his muscular thighs. You decide it’s enough, pushing his hands away as you wrap yourself around his waist again, nuzzling your face behind his ear.

“Good boy,” you praise, and a tiny whimper catches in his throat. You glide your hand over his thigh and let it sit at the base of his cock, thumb and forefinger teasingly wrapping around the base.

“Fffuck,” he moans, twitching beneath you.

There’s a pearly bead of precum that forms at the tip, creamy substance slowly dripping down his cock and leaving a glistening trail in its wake. “Pretty,” you comment, watch it pool around your fingers. “But not enough. Kook, spit,” you demand, feel the way his body tenses up at your words.

“Huh?” He chokes, ears and neck flushed as his brain fully wraps around what exactly you’re telling him.

You shift closer, tightening your hand around his cock as you listen to the whine that rips itself from his throat. “You heard me. Lean over, and spit on your cock,” you repeat, feel him shake beneath you. “You’ve done it before, right? Used your own spit to get yourself off.”

He doesn’t answer, so you give his engorged member another squeeze that has him sputtering back to life. “I-I have,” he admits, blush high on his cheeks. “But I never just...spit. On it.”

You hum, watch the way his fingers flex on his thighs.

Deciding to switch tactics, you push as close as you can, licking a thin stripe up the curve of his ear. “But I love watching you spit,” you pout, loosening your grip on him ever so slightly. His cock remains just as stiff, standing almost completely on its own. “Love feeling it all over my body, down my pussy,” you moan, and the way you rub your thighs together is no act. Jungkook throbs in your hold, biting down another groan. “Don’t you wanna know how good it feels?”

His breaths come out shaky, head nodding at your words. He ducks down, dark hair covering his eyes from your view, but not his mouth. His lips pucker, and ever so slowly, a thin trail of spit drips down from his mouth, glistening in the lamp light until it finally reaches his cock, coating his length in a thick sheen that drips down over your knuckles.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. “That’s it,” you gently encourage, slowly beginning to work your hand over his cock. The glide is slippery, squelching noises filling the huge garage as your fist pumps up and down his cock. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

Jungkook groans, bucking into your palm with every squeeze you give. “Ye-yes,” he pants, skin warm and flushed as you kiss over his neck.

His cock is still so hard, twitching for you. You could do this for hours, feel the heavy weight of his arousal in your hands, listen to his tiny gasps of excitement. His head lolls back again, and you can’t help the endeared smile from watching him fall apart in your hands. “Sweetie, look,” you call out, finally making your other hand useful as you cup his balls.

Jungkook hisses. “Babe, that’s—“ a moan rips itself from his throat, your hands massaging over his swollen balls, caressing him as your hand picks up its pace on his cock. “Too much,” he whimpers.

You press a kiss to his neck, nibble at the skin until it’s bruising. He’s quivering like a leaf, sweat trailing down from his hair and over his skin, your name falling from his lips like it’s all he knows.

The head of his cock is angry and swollen, dripping in precum and his own saliva. You want it in your mouth, but the moment was already so fragile, so close to the end, you didn’t want to mess that up by pulling away. So you tighten your grip, licking the beads of sweat from his neck until Jungkook spasms in your hold.

“Fuck, shit, I’m gonna,” he grunts, body caving over as his orgasm hits, grabs him by the throat until he’s gasping for you to stop, voice wobbling on every syllable. You don’t, choosing to stroke him through until his cock is limp, jumpsuit stained with pearly splatters of white.

After he’s done, you press another kiss to his ear. “Good boy,” you smile, straightening your back after wiping your hands against his soiled uniform. You step away and snatch some napkins off the metal table to wipe him down.

You can tell he’s not completely there yet when you crouch down in front of him, dark eyes unfocused as you make a lousy effort to wipe the splattered droplets of cum off his jumpsuit bottoms. “Hello,” you tease, nudge his chin with your hand. “Anyone there?”

Jungkook snaps out of whatever post-orgasm trance he’d been in and helps you to your feet. “Fuck, that was good,” he sighs, and you giggle. “Screw the car, can we just go to your place?”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook drabble #jungkook drabble #mine #swshd

423 notes · View notes

sinqrowithascythe · 3 years ago

Text

Torn Families, a RWBY story

Hello there! it has been a few days now and the story is ready, so here it is!

Just a warning first though, this story does feature gore, character deaths and angst.

Everyone had their reasons for attending Beacon academy, and most would tell you without so much as a second thought.

“As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the story books... Someone who fought for what was right, and protected people who couldn't protect themselves!” Ruby Rose, 15yr old combat prodigy and leader of team RWBY.

Others, however, aren’t as comfortable in disclosing the truth about their circumstances, like: The beautiful, yet closed off Blake Belladonna, Faunus in hiding and secret Ex-White Fang agent.

“The White Fang is hardly a bunch of psychopaths. They're a collection of misguided Faunus.”

Most would assume that this is where the list ends, but there is another. A third option, or category, where they’ve been truthful but they just haven’t shared the full truth.

This is where the scraggly hero of our fable is found.

When asked for the reasons behind which Jaune Arc has strived to be a Hunter and train in Beacon (which is a regular occurrence among the student body, it’s pretty obvious why), our bumbling blonde will reply with something along the lines of “To become a hero” …. “To become a great Hunter, like the warriors in my family” or “To help people” which is true….

But…there’s more to it, there always is.

Rarely does someone ever question the reason he chose this path or after any event that led to such a decision, but it does happen occasionally. Some of the first conversations with his friends and even Ms. Goodwitch herself raised the question, with Jaune himself being quick to dismiss it or just repeat himself. Forcing the subject to be left alone question, with, replacing the young Arcs would-be interrogators interests with dissatisfaction and a quick change of topic. This is where the truth remains hidden, a burden laid heavily on our young Knight’s shoulders, where he intends to keep them.

But that wouldn’t make an interesting story, so here we go!

This tale sheds light upon that which our very own Jaune Arc would keep hidden, partially for the sake of his friends, but also to keep Jaune from crying himself to sleep… again…

Long before Jaune was launched from the school’s cliff faces into the emerald forests or the acquisition of his “Vomit Boy” moniker, as courtesy of Yang, the Arc found a burning resolve to fight the creatures of Grimm and protect those who could not protect themselves that rivalled the very star he stood under.

The Arc family estate was a large, dark brick house held deep within a forest, found on an island located beyond the western coast of Sanus. Close enough to still be considered a part of the kingdom, but also far enough for people to be left in relative peace from large city environments, bandits and any extremely dangerous Grimm.

Here, the Arc family lived and prospered, laughed and loved for days and years on end, with the only real worries being the evil bath times and dreaded bedtimes, family’s patriarch receiving minor wounds from guarding the small island village (But everyone just said he looked cooler anyway, so it’s a win!) or the sisters engaging into yet another fight over something that seemed to shake the very foundations of reality to them at the time.

“That’s MY hairbrush!!”

“You have, like, 10, just let me borrow this one!”

The house was run by the matriarch and the eldest of the sisters when their father was away, keeping Grimm from presenting danger to the village where they lived. The younger sisters and Jaune often played their days away, when their mother wasn’t home schooling them in the study where she spent most of her time, even outside the education of her children.

One sunny, beautiful day, with the sun was streaming through the leaves and trees and bringing light and life to all the woodland, waking to every insect, animal and plant found within, this family would be shattered.

The green glow of the forest created a feeling similar to a protective aura of warmth and protection. Here, the four youngest Arcs find themselves running past all manner of compassionate and cool streams with looming, yet comforting trees, hiding amidst the natural playground formed by the rocks of landslides long past and prickly piles of twigs that once held strong to their larger companions. The day was not unlike any other the children had been allowed to previously play in, perfect.

The juvenile Arcs were playing their usual rounds of “Hide and Seek” or “Tag” or some of their own invention, when the eldest of the assembled four found an oddity, one which had never caught her attention before. The Arc estate held no boundaries, save the forest itself as it was separated by a long stripe of a field before another forest began, not five meters away from their own, yet the children had never travelled, nor noticed this odd circular emptiness beyond their own patch of trees. “Yeah, that is weird” The three younger members of the Arc clan agreed, “Let’s try playing in that other forest! I bet there’ll be even better hiding spots and even bigger trees to play in!”

And so, they did just that.

Back at the Arc family homestead

The eldest four daughters of the house were treated to a rather large shock while preparing lunch as their mother had, seemingly from no-where, screeched “NOO!” like a banshee might and flung herself out of her chair, falling to their kitchen floor. You see, Jaune’s mother was paralysed, on the account that after her thighs reached halfway down, they were missing, an incident that predated Jaune’s memory and of which she refused to speak, hoping she never had to tell her children and shatter their innocence. And though it placed her within a wheel chair that stopped her from performing the tasks that the oldest of the Arc spawn find themselves occupied with most days, her smile was as radiant and genuine as when her first child was born, finding real purpose in her role as a mother.

Each did their best to help their fallen mother, only to be thrown aside, much harder than they even knew their mother could push. “One of you, run to the village wall as fast as you can, find your father, tell him that Jaune and the triplets have left the stave!”

“Why?” “What does that mean?” “Huh?” Each questioned, their faces twisted with confusion and fear.

“Just GO! Right now! We don’t have time!” The oldest among the females of the home all but roared at her children, her terror evident on her face, scaring the 4 younger women. Pushing her fear aside, the eldest to ran out the door and sprinted down the trail into the town, where the guard and her father stood vigilantly, while her younger two sisters helped their mother back into her chair and checked to see what had happened.

“Mom, what’s happening?” “You scared us” “Why’d you tell Saph to get dad?”

“I’m fine, but your siblings are in danger…”

“How? We thought they were playing outside” “Yeah, they play in the forest every day! Why’s it so dangerous all of a sudden?”

“Hmmmmm…. The forest that surrounds the house is… special, you’ve seen how there’s something of a circle-like-field around the house cutting us of from the rest of the woods?” She questioned, obviously impatient and uncomfortable, much to the dismay of her daughters, never before seeing her so scared in their lives.

“Yeah” “uh-huh” They replied in kind.

“Well, your mother has a special power and can sense, and almost see, what happens in this circle, if you can imagine” Chuckling the last part, the nerves still very present in her voice. “Normally, your siblings always play in this circle, where it’s safe and where I can see them, but, because we live so far from town the woods next to ours can be filled with scary, dangerous creatures. I don’t know why, but, the triplets and Jaune have wandered into that forest and your father needs to find them, before something bad can happen.” looking away through the kitchen window, into the picturesque scene of the serene forest outside.

Meanwhile, Jaune and his elder sisters were playing a renewed game of tag in their new playground, their eldest sister rushing for her father, while the three under her found comfort in their mother, as a new found fear grew for their youngest sibling’s lives. This new version of tag involved a “Strength in Numbers” strategy, where the title of tag didn’t pass on to another player after contact, but spread so that the match only ended when everyone was ‘it’, basically creating two teams of ever-growing chasers and continually dwindling chase-ies.

Jaune, despite taking part and enjoying himself immensely in the game, found himself growing rather nervous, as he could have sworn, he had heard his mother mention not to go into the forest beyond their own at some point before, but none of his sisters could remember and said he just imagined it. Which inevitably led to them teasing him and saying he was a “Scaredy cat!” which, to a seven-year-old boy, was an offence of the highest order. So, with new resolve and determination, Jaune played with his sisters in the forest, running deeper and deeper into the unknown woods, finding a new and magical parts of the surrounding nature with each new game.

Nothing, it seemed, could go wrong for out four young Arcs, however, we all know what follows these kinds of observations.

The fight had started as nothing more than a simple debate. “I SO DID tag you!”

“Nu-uh! You only got my dress!”

“Did not! I tapped your shoulder! You’re it too now!” “Nu-uh” “So, too!”

This repeated for a few minutes, the two eldest of the triplets bickered back and forth until…

“Jaune!” Both shouted in unison, the fire in their eyes and voices startling the poor boy “Y-yeah?” His anxiety growing, as each girl looked ready to throttle one another all the way home.

“I totally got her, right!?” “No, she sooo missed me, you saw right!?”

“Uhhh…” Was his only response. Truth be told, Jaune hadn’t seen the incident in question, he was too busy trying not to get caught himself, he only came up to them when he saw they were fighting again, wanting to help.

“C’mon! I’m fine, right!?” “No, I definitely caught her!”

Jaune was not comfortable in this situation. In fact, he was scared, scared that his sisters were fighting and felt useless that he couldn’t do anything about it. This is until an idea came across his mind.

“What about Rock, Paper, Scisso-!” “AAAGGGHHH!!!” The high, piercing wail that blocked Jaune’s solution had come as a shock to everyone. They were all frozen in place, the fear and pain that filled that scream had turned them all to stone. And a sudden realization donned upon Jaune, one that only seemed to strengthen the anxiety currently lacing his blood.

“W-w-wait, th-there’s only three of u-us here…” Upon a quick count, they found that they were, indeed, one sibling short. “The scream must have come from her! We have to find her, she’s in trouble!”

“Maybe she just found a big spider! She’s terrified of them!” The oldest of the group stated, a fact which was well known within the Arc household.

“We just have to find her and get her away from wherever she found it!” The younger of the girls offered. This conclusion helped each of them relax, as spiders were the most dangerous of the creatures that they knew to inhabit the forests that surround their home. It brought them comfort, but they weren’t in their woodlands anymore.

They moved quickly towards the origin of their sister’s scream, until they unfortunately found her.

In a small secluded area of the forest, a clearing in the trees where the river widened considerably and was surrounded by large stones that easily dwarf the giant that was their father (as far as they were concerned), where the sun seemed to shine atop the water so bright that you could swear it was fragmented like the moon and resided in the river itself. This was where they found her.

However, the beauty of nature wasn’t what made them stop, nor was it the sight of their sister happily frolicking in the water after overcoming her original fear and relief flooding the trio of loving family members. No, it was the exact opposite to all those beautiful and much more preferable sights (Hell, they’d prefer to have found a spider, really).

What stood in the clearing, over their sister, was a monster.

A monster so dark, it made the moonless night sky seem bright. With markings so red, the blood that splattered its maw seemed pale by comparison. All of this packed onto a fur-skinned nightmare product between man and wolf. And their sister… stuck underneath.

No, stuck wasn’t the right word.

The creature didn’t hold her down, it didn’t need too, the girl below it simply couldn’t move. She was missing large chunks of her little body. They could see her shoe on the other side of the clearing, her foot still occupying it. A few feet from her there was some bloody assortment of meat, maybe something from inside, no-one could tell. Her neck had also seemed to disappear and had replaced itself with bloody chunks of something.

Each child, each one that still had a beating heart, remained completely still. No movement, no thought and no emotion, still enough were to make a statue jealous. The shock they felt was all they could feel, their brains refusing to process the sight before them. The first to break free of the paralysing chains holding his mind was Jaune, still looking into the large, half lidded and dull eyes of his older sister. The eyes that had once been so full of colour and everything right with the world, Jaune had found comfort and happiness in those eyes’ countless times before, being the two youngest of the family had created a close and tight bond between the two. And now, they laid in the red, stained grass, upside-down, staring at him with nothing, endless nothing, a perfect void, drained of any and all life.

Fear and sadness welled within Jaune, faster than the tears that had decided to occupy his eyes could, with his sister’s emotions following in turn.

The negativity had come crashing out of them in waves, comparable to a landslide, only cursing them further. This alerted the creature, its posture bolting upright slouching over the corpse of the young girl turned lunch. It turned at the waist, revealing just how long its arms really were, easily twice Jaune himself, each one holding a different end of the girl’s right arm. What was most terrifying was its canine-shaped head. The lupine resemblance almost uncanny, the bloody maul full of teeth as long as it’s claws and wet with a liquid that Jaune tried his best to forget the source of. The ears atop the skull of the creature pointed toward the sky, looked sharp and swivelled around, until stopping, pointed at the children.

What scared them the most were its eyes, the cold, harsh eyes that were the antithesis of its prey. Where the girl’s eyes had been full of life, joy and hope, the creature’s own orbs reflected hate, despair and death. It’s fitting really, that the eyes of love and hope had been filled with the deepest and most alluring of azure blues and the ones that killed them were as red and terrifying as hell itself would be.

The creature dropped its piece of lunch on top of the rest of its forgotten meal and lowered itself onto all fours, its impossibly long arms stretched forwards and its rear in the sky behind it, as a low yet rumbling growl escaped from between its teeth. Now, instead of pure shock rooting our children to the ground, it was the very fear and anxiety that told the beast they were there. And, in the space it took for Jaune let go of the breath his fear forced him to hold, the creature pounced.

In the few precious seconds, it took for Jaune to turn and push his sisters, the nightmare before then had covered the distance between them and stood right behind Jaune. This registered for Jaune as three large, ragged, diagonal cuts in his tiny back. Falling into the grass of the forest, quickly watching the green around him fill with his own red.

The creature ran after the girls, desperately attempting to flee, knowing its second victim had no chance of moving now. The two remaining girls were screaming and running, terrified of the lupine monstrosity behind them, not knowing that the very fear fuelling their escape them was exactly what made them even more delicious prey.

Jaune watched from his position, chin first in the dirt, as the beast caught up to them and doubled their pace, springing forward and turning to face his sisters, seeing the very same claw that had Jaune glued to the ground tear one of them in half, before she could even stop running. Her pieces staining the grass red in front of her remaining sister. The final sibling came to a stop before the stalking nightmare. Sobbing messily, she looked up from her tattered sister into the eyes of the monster that killed some of the best people in her life and seemingly paralysed her only brother. She began to beg, praying to the brother gods that, by some miracle, some stretch of the universe, that she would survive and make it home to her loving mother, sisters and father.

Her prayers and begs fell upon deaf ears as the beast shot forward, grabbed her temples between the daggers that made up its teeth and separated the top half of her head, sounding off with a sickening crunch mixed with a strangled cry of pain and torment.

And just dropped her body to the ground, discarding her like a toddler drops a toy they’re bored with.

Jaune watched the entire scene in front of him, unable to move or even think, terrified beyond all action or comprehensible thought, not that the he would have been able to move anyway, as the creature made its way closer to him, no longer moving in leaps or flashes, but walking, as its prey was rendered immobile by the large injury in its back. Jaune closed his eyes, tightening them as he braced for the pain he knew was coming, just as it had come for his sisters.

Jaune was so focused on biting back anything he felt and so drowned in his own fear and blood, that he didn’t hear the gut-wrenching scream of agony and desperate sorrow. Nor did he hear the heavy foot falls as something approached him and the beast, racing from elsewhere. What he did hear was the sound of his father’s shield deflecting the bloodstained claws, he heard and watched as his father, blinded by pure animosity and heartache forced the creature of death back and, eventually, decapitate it. In that moment, time had seemed to freeze, Jaune saw the fury and heartbreak on his father’s face, twisted into a cruel grimace, the image burned into his memory, alongside the corpses of his sisters.

Time only began to move again as Jaune’s father let out another cry, louder than all his previous screams, as he began to hack, slash and break any part of the Grimm before him, only stopping when its corpse had fully dissipated, as all Grimm do.

Only then did his father stop, drop his weapons and fall to his knees, weeping at the loss of his four youngest children, screaming and sobbing with his face in the dirt, almost seeming to burrow into it, wanting to find the blood of his children. Jaune watched as his father broke apart, small pieces at a time, tears flowing down his face, almost unending. But, as all things must ends, so too did the tears, sniffles and sobs of the town guard, his face steeled into a grimace of loss and sorrow, the piece of himself being replaced with a resolve, a vow to return his children to their home and never let thing happen again.

The Patriarch of the Arc family stood to survey the damage done to his blood. And here he froze, seeing the unsteady rising and falling of his son’s chest, missing pieces being filled properly again as new tears of joy and relief flood the father’s features. Sprinting to the wounded boy’s side, screaming his name and asking question he already knew the answer to, Jaune’s father dropped to his knees once again, but this time to help his damaged son, searching himself and the land around for any way to comfortably bring his son home. With the frantic search proving to be utterly fruitless, he simply, yet gently, picked Jaune from the ground and placed him on his unarmed shoulder.

Jaune’s father began the trek back to the family home, creating false promises, repeating apologies and crying, for the duration of the trip, moving as fast as possible, without causing the silent boy on his shoulder any more pain that what was already silencing him.

Jaune, however, heard none of these promises, “sorry” ‘s or sobs, only seeing the gleaming, blood-spattered shield, collapsed around the sword at his father’s hip, only able to focus on the warmth his father spread and the thought “That would have been useful” while staring at the blade’s handle, before the pain took his consciousness from him.

Jaune spent the next few days drifting to and from the conscious world.

He knew that he had been taken home, he remembered hearing gasps and cries upon his return, pain from the dressing of his wounds and more crying. Curiously enough, he also heard shouting, which would be normal enough in a house of ten... now seven. But this was different, most shouting normally came from his sisters, arguing about one thing or another or when his parents needed to discipline them, these bouts of shouting, however, came from his parents. They seemed to be arguing over something called “aura…?” Jaune wasn’t sure what if was or even if it was a word, but he did hear his mother scream “I CAN’T LET WHAT HAPPENED TO ME HAPPEN TO THEM, ESPECIALLY HIM!!” To which his father pleaded. “CAN’T YOU SEE IT ALREADY HAS, WE CAN’T LEAVE HIS LIFE IN DANGER JUST BECAUSE YOU FEEL HE SHOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT YOUR PAST OR THR WORLD!!” This is where the screaming stopped, hearing only loud and quiet sobbing and whispering coming from wherever the shouting had. All he really knew was that it scared him.

Jaune also remembered a doctor coming from town once or twice during those days. It was probably more, but he couldn’t stay awake half the time, what with the pain in his back knocking him out every few minutes after he woke.

It wasn’t until a week and a half had passed since the deaths of his family members that Jaune regained consciousness properly. He awoke to the tearstained face of his mother, the tears seeming to have cut long furrows down her face. She almost squealed with joy upon being woken up by her son trying to brush the tears from her face, the pure elation of her son being alive and awake causing more water to leaks from her eyes.

When the rest of Jaune’s remaining family burst into the room, each had similar reactions upon seeing his mother hugging him gently, with him awake this time. Which was then preceded by the inevitable questions, Jaune explaining everything, each detail clear in his mind, when the tears from his own eyes didn’t impede his speech as the emotions finally caught up to him. Often his family sat together for hours at a time, waiting for Jaune to finish crying before he continued.

No harsh accusations followed his tale, nor any blame, simply hugs, tears and promises from his family.

After that day the house flowed back into normalcy, albeit quieter, until three full years had finally passed. The wounds Jaune had received were not lethal nor debilitating, the claws not digging deep enough and missing anything important along his spine, “a small miracle!” The town doctor had claimed.

The town’s people had helped organise and set up, even pay for the funerals. Everyone knew the Arc children and none showed any particular hatred, only the same small loving-malice that followed mischievous children’s pranks and activities. Any and all real hate was directed towards the Grimm that resided in the forest, evident by the furious stares many levelled towards the trees beyond thew village walls.

Eventually, the dull gleam that seemed to cover the eyes of each family member, the same gleam that held the stars and oceans contained within their eyes at bay, disappeared as they could finally move on.

But, never forgetting.

Whenever the children played, they were always supervised, never left alone. Their father had managed a change in occupation and now worked from home as a writer of sorts. Their mother had grown more possessive of her family and Jaune’s elder sisters followed this attitude when it came to him, never letting him be by himself. At first, Jaune was okay with this, even feeling happy and safe from this caged lifestyle due to having seen the reason for its inception.

However, this did not last. Whenever Jaune had asked about the creature, his father only bitterly replied to ask his mother, to which she would say “an evil creature, but, as long as you stay here, you’ll be safe and not have to worry about it”. This never sated Jaune’s mind, but, was the only definition either parent would ever give him. When Jaune would ask to be trained like his father, to protect and kill the “Evil creatures” in the forest, his mother would shoot the idea down in the exact same way, forever denying combat to her remaining children. On this, his parents agreed and Jaune began to lose his feeling of comfort in his protective cage.

Jaune would eventually learn more of his family’s legacy through omitted records of their deeds in the study and from stories his mother told her children and discovers his own drive to become one of the Arc heroes, prompting him to become a Huntsman, despite his great lack of knowledge on the topic (What’s worse is that he doesn’t know just how much he doesn’t know about it).

He finds a way into Beacon and creates some of the best memories he’s ever had, the best friends he’s ever had and even a new family.

And everything happens as we know it will. Friendship. Growth. Happiness. Accomplishment. The Fall. And new beginnings.

--------------------------------

Hiya again!

thank you for reading my first actual piece of RWBY fanfiction. I made this concept up a few years ago, back when I was (possibly) obsessed with why Jaune knew so little of the world around him, despite a lot of it being vital to being a Huntsmen, So i wrote this little number (I don't know why i made it so dark of a story, but eh).

After rediscovering it, I thought I'd fix it up and post it here and thus, here we are indeed.

I know this doesn't answer how he got into Beacon, but that's not the point of the story in the first place. Please leave any notes of criticism, I'd really love to hear what you though about my story

Anyway, Thank you so very much for reading my work.

#jaune arc rwby #jaune arc #rwby #arc #arc family #hurt #death #gore #saphron cotta arc #saphron arc #comfort #fanfic #fanfiction #dark

10 notes · View notes