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blublublujk · 1 year ago

Text

good girl, gone bad

oneshot

word count: 6k

genre: established (secret) relationship

pairing: good girl y/n x bad boy jk

summary:

“I can’t believe anyone actually likes those stupid fucks. I mean, the hickeys, it’s like he wants everyone to know he actually fucks.” You stay staring just a tad longer at the buff (sexy) jock, short enough so that Karina won’t notice. This time the boy proudly parading the trail of hickeys down his neck smiles at you and parts with a quick wave, some blonde hair boy from the group laughs at him and shakes his arm teasingly. You can’t help but to smile too, it’s barely there, but he’ll know. You decide to turn around and follow her steps. “Yeah totally, me either.” What your best friend doesn’t know won’t kill her… right?

warnings: basically just pwp but plot went missing (oops!), swearing, smoker jk (i swear if anyone complains in my inbox i'll haunt you), explicit sexual content; jk has a huge dick ok, consensual recording/pictures, car sex (don't fuck in a car), hickeys, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, breast play, blowjob, fingering, cunnilingus, come shot (on face), slut shaming (again lol), come tasting/swallowing, stomach bulge (my fault i love this one), choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie

a.n: sorry for a late update hope yall dont mind, but i just wanna get rid of all my drafts they are PILING. lol forgive me for only always writing about jungkook, but he's so easy to write about. he breathes, and i instantly open my notes app (im not even joking). this has been sitting in my drafts since his LA trip (iykyk) it sparked a conversation and i wrote it. i want that man bad... and im lesbian :D

ANYWAYS enjoy and STREAM GOLDEN for our golden bunny <3

p.s: i'll probably come back to this couple but its a oneshot for now... but wouldn't no nut nov be fun with this jk?? everyone say yesss. ok bye.

—> m.list

—> welcome me on ao3 & twt

—-

“Ugh, what a piece of shit.”

Before you even get to ask who, the motorcycle roars back to life across the parking structure belonging to the very one and only, Jeon Jungkook. A group of college jocks crowd around the man. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, he’s not paying it much attention though. He's deep in conversation, laughing at something one of them said, clearly more invested in the joke than anything else around him.

As the laughter dies down, he looks over, eyes connecting while he brings the cigarette to his pierced lip, slowly inhaling the toxic fume. The terribly annoying (yet somehow sexy) tattooed jock on his loud motorcycle winks towards your direction, before selfishly exhaling that poisonous smoke into the air. Fuck, you really, really wanted to hate him too.

“Yuck.” Karina gags with a scrunch to her nose, turning a cold back to them and you’re grateful to her because you almost get stuck in his lustful gaze.

“Yeah… yuck.” You reply with no real meaning somehow managing to convince her you meant it.

“I hate him and his stupid friends. They are killing the Earth slowly and they don’t even give a fuck!” Karina argues in all her given glory and in her environmental science major mindset. “Plus those cancer sticks reek, why must the general public suffer because they can’t last thirty without them.”

Jungkook could last thirty without them. Way more than thirty when you were around him, especially when he was given something (or someone) to entertain himself with, but you couldn't say that aloud so the sudden thoughts stayed safe and sound in your head.

“No, no they don’t. But what can we do?” There’s a sigh and then you clear your throat. “Should we get going now?”

Your arm wraps around hers, gesturing the way back to campus with a swift wave where you both had been meaning to study given that classes finally started cramping in heavy assignments.

“Yes, please.” Karina is quick to sharply turn her heel and walk back towards the building. “I can’t believe anyone actually likes those stupid fucks. I mean, the hickeys, it’s like he wants everyone to know he actually fucks.”

You stay staring just a tad longer at the buff (sexy) jock, short enough so that Karina won’t notice. This time the boy proudly parading the trail of hickeys down his neck smiles at you and parts with a quick wave, some blonde hair boy from the group laughs at him and shakes his arm teasingly. You can’t help but to smile too, it’s barely there, but he’ll know. You decide to turn around and follow her steps. “Yeah totally, me either.”

What your best friend doesn’t know won’t kill her… right?

—-

“You taste disgusting.” There’s a muffled laugh pressed into your lips, as your tongues meet halfway, meeting each other’s lips in a bruising wet kiss. Your ass grinds roughly against his lap, groaning into your mouth while you bring your ass flush down, feeling his soft cock harden below you. His right hand grips your right ass cheek, jiggling it in his hand, before smacking it (with love, of course!).

“Yeah?” Jungkook smirks, bringing his mouth against your throat, sucking and licking everywhere there was space. He sneakily leaves little love bites behind even though he knows you’ll kill him for this later because you have somewhere to be after this. He even bites your ear lobe gently between his teeth, before he cockily whispers. “You love it though.”

The whimper that leaves your mouth should be illegal. It only drives Jungkook crazier.

Both hands find purchase on your ass now, spanking you once again in each cheek. Though Jungkook was a bit disappointed he wasn’t seeing your flushed bare cheeks on top of him, but he guesses he can settle for now. “You gonna let me fuck you now baby?”

He gropes your asscheeks without any hesitation, still leaving wet kisses buzzing onto your skin, stealing a quick kiss from your raw-bitten lips.

“Mm, only if you ask nicely.” You tease, dragging a finger along his jawline.

With this, Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back. Your hand comes to fist his hair, while he drops another wet smooch onto your lips. “You know I’d do anything for a piece of this ass angel.”

You smile into the kiss, grinding harder against his now– hard cock. You felt your folds leak of your own arousal. It was so undeniable. The attraction between you two, the desire to take each other apart, to be within each other’s arms. There was no place like Jungkook’s lap. Here you could stay forever.

“Imagine what people would say if they saw you like this baby.” Jungkook starts teasing, tugging your shirt off with no trouble. Your breasts catch his attention, noticing that you are wearing that black lingerie set he had bought for you last Valentine’s Day. “Fuck. Look at you baby.”

He squishes your breasts together, leaning up to kiss the uncovered tender flesh on both sides. You don’t even attempt to hold your moans back. “I– nghhh.”

“Did you expect to get fucked today princess? Hmm? Is this all for me?” Jungkook’s words work like magic, they drip off his sinful tongue like honey. You bring your body flush against his, burying your blushing face against his neck. “Don’t get shy on me baby, tell me. Did you wear this all for me?”

He purrs sweetly and you only nod, cheeks burning red.

It's not like you were embarrassed of him, no in fact, you were happy to announce that the college campus’ certified bad boy is all yours and has been for the past two years.

There was no exact moment to this, the attraction had always been there.

You had first officially met Jungkook in one of your general ed classes. Statistics, to be exact, which he would have one-hundred percent failed had it not been for you passing him the answers mid exams. It wasn’t like that to begin with of course, it took you some convincing. To be fair and to your excuse, it was so hard to say no to those beautiful big brown eyes.

At first, you assumed he was doing this all, acting lost and playing dumb, to get into your pants which he succeeded. However you had enough dignity left to make him work for it. Until you realized those secret smiles, stolen glances, and subtle hand holds were much more than just a silly game. You had fallen for his charm, and against everyone’s advice to stay far away from him, you fell in love with the (not so terrible) bad boy and let him take over your heart completely. It happened so randomly and so all at once. It was confusing, new, but most of all, liberating.

Being with Jungkook was so freeing and the thrill of being caught with him was so worth it. It didn’t matter what people thought of you or him, you both were willing to die on this hill of love.

Jungkook, too, had fallen quickly. How could he not? There was nothing to dislike and everything to love. Your pouty scolds, he looked forward to. The stolen glances across campus were his favorite, a secret only you and him held close to heart. There were times where your cheeks would flush pink, because he would steal kisses from you behind the campus library. You were seriously his favorite person ever.

“Jungkook stop! What if someone sees us?” You would whisper-shout, a pout would form against your will.

Jungkook would just kiss your worries away again and again and then say. “You’re the cutest little thing alive baby.”

“Are you trying to change the subject?” It was hard to speak between kisses, that and the fact that he would squish your cheeks together like the adorable boyfriend he was.

“I don’t know. Is it working?” His reply was cheeky and lips would start trailing down your neck and then you determined, yes. Yes, it is working. Fuck it all.

It’s safe to say, he was yours since the start of it all, as you were his. Wrapped in each other’s fingers before anyone had realized it, now you were inseparable.

“Answer me princess.” Jungkook pulls you back gently, observing your flushed face. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Of course, this only makes you blush harder, but you do manage to admit. “Y-Yes… I wore this only for you. Always for you.”

Jungkook smiles, pecking your cheek. “Then I’m the luckiest man alive angel.”

He cradles your face, before leaning in to kiss you. This time, you guys take your time. Your mouths stay closed, taking the time to really feel the plushy feeling against your own and enjoy each other’s presence. You felt as if you were floating in clouds.

“Jungkook.” You mumble onto his lips and he hums, but that’s not enough so you call his name once more with intent. “Jungkook.”

He pulls back with a questioning look. “Yes, my love?”

“Can you please just fuck me already?” The words come out barely above a whisper, even after fucking you so many times, you could be so shy at times.

Jungkook breaks out into a bunny-like grin, holding back a stifled laugh. “So much for wanting to make me say please, look at who’s pleading now.”

“J-Jungkook…” Your face goes hot again and he laughs once more, patting your ass softly.

“Okay. Okay, my love. Enough teasing, I’ll fuck you since you asked so nicely baby.” Jungkook takes his sweet time taking off his own shirt, and pulling your skirt off. It was a bit tricker, given you were both in your car which was not fit for two people even in the backseat, but you guys always made it work.

You were still scared to ride to campus with him as much as he begged you to because it would blow your secret relationship, but fucking on campus has yet to be off-limits. Mainly because Jungkook fucks you all too well, and you aren’t one to say no to good dick (oops).

He attaches his mouth right above the bare skin of your left breast. He holds your tits in his hands, pushing them together, stuffing his face right between them. Jungkook makes sure to pay attention to both breasts (it’s only fair), rubbing your hard buds through the black lace which hardly covers them. You bite back a moan, feeling him rut up against your heat, his hard length pressing stiffly against you, your walls already clenching, desperate to feel him inside you.

His tattooed hand slips below, releasing the nipple he had been tugging on earlier. You feel the tip of his fingertips brush against your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet baby. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Surely by now, you were dripping onto the lace. His erection is still pressing against your inner thigh. “D-Don’t wait then.”

Your boyfriend smiles, bringing his lips to yours. “Behave. You’ll get some dick inside you soon.”

Like the brat you were, your eyes rolled back so used to being spoiled. He pays it no mind though because his tongue comes out again, licking your lips apart. Your tongues meet once more, this time you suck his tongue into your mouth, brushing it against the roof of your mouth. He taste quite bitter, it’s the cigarette from earlier, yet somehow and against all judgement, he tastes fucking delicious. Especially when a grunt slips from his throat, feeling you roll your barely covered folds against his fingers.

He allows this, putting more pressure with two fingers, feeling you drench his fingertips even through your panties. Jungkook pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth, spit mixing as he reciprocates the favor, sucking gently on your tongue. You tasted like the strawberries you had earlier for lunch and Jungkook groans, greedily swallowing the taste in your mouth.

What an innocent sweet little thing you were and he was about to ruin you all.

Cigarettes and strawberries.

Quite the pair.

You whine into his mouth, unable to hold back much longer. “Please, Jungkook…”

He smirks against your mouth. How much he loved the way you fell apart on his cock. Especially more, when he had barely had his hands on you and you were already begging for more. Jungkook pulls back, but not before you whine a soft “no.” He holds your cheeks in his palms, forcing you to look directly into his hazy eyes.

“Imagine if people knew baby.” His voice comes out more sultry, rough around the edges. His thumb carrasses your cheek, patting your mouth open. “How much of a slut you were for this dick.”

His words make you mewl (he knows how much you get off to this thought), he slowly eases two fingers into your mouth, holding your chin in place. You made sure to suck on them as he liked, your tongue coming flat against them.

Jungkook bucks his hips into yours, chest rising while he watches you suck, like the good girl you were. “Imagine if they really knew, baby? Such a sweet girl like you, with someone so dangerous and reckless like me. What would they say? Hmm?”

He pulls out his fingers, seeing them barely glisten under the light.

“I- I don’t know.” Your voice is dry and soft yet, you are incredibly horny.

“You don’t know? I have a few ideas.” Jungkook chuckles, hands brushing along your back. “Can this come off?”

He tugs your bra from behind and you hesitate to nod permission. “Good, I wanna watch them bounce when I finally fuck you.”

By now, you have given up resisting him, so you moan pathetically as he shreds your bra with ease and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking the tender bud into his tongue, flicking it and placing it between his teeth. He tugs and licks the sting away, watching with hooded eyes as you squirm against him. Your face burns imagining the idea.

What if people knew? How would your friends react? They would surely be disappointed, Jungkook was good for nothing but trouble. Yet, he was perfect to you. You were willing to defend him from hell and back. Whatever it took for them to believe you.

Jungkook moves to the other bud, placing it into his mouth, cupping and gripping your breasts. His mouth was hot and heavy against your nipple, his tongue caressing the hard bud. He squeezes them one last time before letting them drop, watching them bounce gently against your chest. Yup, Jungkook was the luckiest man alive. There was nothing better than this moment right here.

Heat travels your body quickly, feeling your own chest rise, struggling to breathe in the steamy car. Your boyfriend looks down, communicating with his eyes instead of actually saying anything, your hands quickly move to his belt, tugging them off and throwing it anywhere else. Desperately, you unbuckle his jeans, harshly pulling his boxer down, just enough to watch his dick spring out. The flushed, wet length smacks against his stomach, watching as his abs clench at the sensation. If you stare any longer, you’ll start drooling. “So good for me angel.”

There’s no time to waste.

“Wanna suck you off.” You breathe out, voice filled with desire and lust, clearly it takes over because usually his girlfriend was much shyer and timid, but that all disappeared when Jungkook’s cock was present.

“Yeah?” Jungkook watches you drop on your knees, your pretty knees will for sure suffer the consequences of your horny choice, but there was no stopping this. He pats his thighs as he leans back to give you enough space. “I’m all yours, baby girl.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek when he feels your warm mouth wrap around his dick. Your tongue comes out messily, practically salivating and dripping all over him. There’s probably not a single day that goes by that you aren’t sucking his dick, but it was quite the experience every damn time.

“F-Fuck, I wish you could see yourself.” He struggles a bit because the sight is fucking sinful and if people knew you like he did, they wouldn’t believe the person in front of him.

His personal little cockslut.

You pop off for a second, hand still wrapped around his length covered in your spit. “Yeah? Then take a picture for me, Kook.”

Double fuck.

When you first started dating Jungkook, you were against any pictures at all. After time passed and to his luck, you came around and you would let him take pictures, but only if he promised your face wasn’t in the frame. Now, his camera roll is covered with images of you and your blooming relationship. You didn’t care anymore about covering or blurring your face out. His camera roll consisted of just about everything, pictures of you sleeping peacefully against his chest as you would nap, videos of you laughing on the random adventures he would take you on, but never images of you nude. Never ever was he allowed anything that could probably incriminate you both, even if he would beg, ever-so sweetly. It seems like you came around after all. Bless you.

“Fuck, don’t talk to me like that princess, you have no idea what that does to me.” He’s never heard you sound so fucking sexy. Jungkook bites his lip, recovering his phone that had dropped earlier on the carpet. “You sure about this baby?”

“Yes.” Then you are back on his cock and he shudders, already snapping a few pictures. Your eyes looked up at the camera, making a show out of it all.

Jungkook tries controlling his heavy breathing but with a sinful tongue like yours, it’s impossible. “Can I record this princess, only if you’ll let me, of course.”

You take him deeper into your throat and nod furiously on his cock. You trusted him enough, you knew Jungkook could never hurt a single soul, unless they tried him. Point is, he would never do anything to break that trust so hell yeah, why not add more to his long collection.

“God, you are so perfect baby. Made for me and only me.” Jungkook’s voice is nothing short of possessiveness. He presses record, caressing your hair softly, almost petting you for your work like the good girl you were for him. “Imagine if they knew how well you take cock baby. How perfect those plump lips look around my dick. You’re like a dream come true princess, my personal cockslut.”

You moan around his length, loving the bitter taste on your tongue and Jungkook has to hold back from fucking your throat, though he thinks you’ll love it anyways.

“Can I fuck your throat?” His voice is raspy and you open your mouth wider, nodding so prettily with dick stuffed in your mouth. Jungkook is careful when placing your hair in a little makeshift ponytail for the meantime and as best as he can with one hand as he starts to thrust into your warm mouth. “So beautiful and all mine. Isn’t that right princess?”

You don’t get to reply, but the vibrations of your moans that manage to run through his cock answer for you and it almost makes him smile. What a good girl you were. Pretty things like you deserved to be spoiled and he couldn’t wait to give you the fucking world.

And was he fucking loving the show you were putting on for him becoming more needy and desperate on camera, your eyes rolled as he brutally used your throat for his liking.

Jungkook bites at his bottom lip as he begins to roll his hips with much more force, feeling your throat take him down with greed. “Fuck baby, your throat feels amazing. Taking me so good.”

He lets you go when he feels you tap his thigh and you gasp for air, tears threatening to leak down your face. “W-Want you to come on my face.”

Your voice is hoarse and his eyes widen at your sweet request.

“Aren’t you just perfect for me today baby. Just you wait, you’ll get the best dick of your entire lifetime.” Not that you would know since he was your first and he knows that, proudly carries that in his cocky ego, but you always believed him. No one could fuck you better than this, you were sure. You bat your eyes at his promise and he comes down to kiss you messily, the camera records jackshit, but it captures your whiny moans and the sound of your lips smacking against one another. He pulls off with one last kiss and adjusts the camera frame back towards you as he takes his hard length and slaps his swollen, wet dick along your cheek. “Open up princess, I’m really fucking close.”

You take him in with no hesitation and go to fucking work. Slurping and licking all over his length, your chin dripping with saliva, but you don’t even care anymore because his grunts and whines keep you going.

Every now and then you look up at the camera making sure you do your best to keep him coming back. You know he will probably rewatch this every night that you aren’t there with him. And your predictions are correct because Jungkook’s already planning on watching this tonight and jacking off to it while you are out with Karina doing God knows what. All he knows is his sweet girl will be doing something productive while he’ll be coming undone in your gracious honor.

“I’m close baby.” He groans sexily, and his breathing starts to become sharp. “Look up baby, right into the camera, gonna come all over that perfect fucking face.”

Doing as he says, you look up sucking him dry, your hands come to relieve what you can’t cover with your tongue. His hand pushes you off for a second. “Tongue out baby.”

He fucks his fist and it doesn’t take long before he squirts his load all over your face, grateful that most of it lands on your tongue, you swallow it all immediately, humming gracefully at the salty taste.

Jungkook’s eyes are blown out as he catches his breath and lets his dick flop back down against his thigh, you look like a fucking sin and he must be the Devil because he’s about to commit about thirty tonight. “Give me a second princess.”

He says between breaths as he stops recording with one last picture of your come-soiled face, still breathing heavily as he throws his phone on the floor again, thankful that he has something for later. You giggle against him and he almost awes as you throw your head against his bare thighs into a laughing fit. “Okay.”

He huffs a dry laugh and pulls you up. “Times up. Come here.”

Jungkook is quick to capture you in a sloppy kiss, not minding the leftover mess of come on your face, he doesn’t wanna mess up his masterpiece just yet. You soon grow desperate in his arms, but this time he doesn’t mess around.

“Lay down.” Your bare back lands on the seats and he shoves himself between your thighs. Again, it’s steamy and fucking cramped in your car, but you both couldn’t care any less right now.

His tongue hits your slit not bothering to move your matching panties, but the effect is almost the same. He licks a long strip watching you soil the silky lace mixing his spit with your own arousal.

You moan sweetly as your legs come apart letting him completely devour your heat. Jungkook pulls off, tugging your spoiled little black panties to the side and continues on with his mission. His tongue finds your clit and you swear you could come like this.

“R-Right there. Please.” Your boyfriend doesn’t let up either, eating your sweet pussy like it deserves. His tongue flicks your bud, building the sensation in your tummy. Jungkook sucks on your clit selfishly.

His chin is covered in your arousal. He’s humming and moaning deep inside your pussy, your juices stick onto his tongue like candy and he greedily swallows the treat whole.

“B-Baby.” Your voice is struggling like his was earlier, but it’s there. He lifts his face from your heat, eyes in a lust-filled trance. Jungkook knows he’s pussy-whipped, but at least he admits his problems!

“Yes, my baby.” Jungkook’s eyes are blown out and he looks just as wrecked as you are.

“C-Can I take a picture?” He almost gapes at your request, the amount of times you took him by surprise today. At this point, he would let you do anything, fuck his morality!

“Do whatever you want princess. Pictures, videos. I’m all yours.” He gives you his full consent and permission to do anything so you are quick to grab his phone (you’ll send them over to yourself later) and start snapping pictures while he dives back in for seconds.

Jungkook keeps your legs open while you are a whimpering mess above him, struggling to get the best picture. You have no idea how he was doing this himself, the pictures come out blurry as he continues to devour you as if it was his last meal.

He also puts on a show for the camera like you did so nicely earlier for him. Jungkoook’s eyes hood as he stares up, he even winks for the shot. If college didn’t ever work out for either of you, this would be something to look into. Good thing that was not the case, at least for you, his little straight A student.

“I’m g-gonna come.” This only makes your boyfriend go crazier between your folds. He drops eye-contact with the camera and instead solely focuses on that pretty pussy presented for him. Jungkook’s tongue is sin itself, not letting up once as more arousal drips out of you. He slowly teases a finger inside, building your orgasm quickly as he fucks you open with his middle finger. “I’m– nghh. Fuh-fuck!”

The sentence is never finished as you start to squirt onto his tongue, creating your own little masterpiece on his face. Jungkook has never swallowed anything down faster than right now and he’s loving every second of it. Completely pussy-whipped and all, but at least he’s happy!

Your boyfriend finally detaches himself from your heat and the sight is nearly adorable. His hair is now all fucked up and he’s a sticky mess everywhere (you are sure you look no better).

“Yum, I could do that all day.” Jungkook shamelessly says.

“Mm, I’m sure.” You say coming down from your own orgasm, he gives you a few seconds to breathe as you set his phone down again. Jungkook takes his shirt from the floor and wipes himself clean. He does the same but it’s no use, the come that landed on your face has dried up and he doesn’t wanna scrub it off and end up hurting your precious face.

Jungkook kisses your cheek affectionately as an apology.

“There’s dry come on my face right?” You start to scold him, but he smiles with all his teeth apologetically and you forgive him at that moment.

“Guilty.” He smirks, proud of his work, he thinks you truly haven't looked better.

Wrapping arms and legs around your boyfriend you whisper innocently. “I was promised dick of a lifetime, unless… unless you lied to me?”

Jungkook scrunches his nose cutely while he looks at your perfect pouty face, doe-eyes begging to be fucked. “I never lie, not to you at least.”

He makes you laugh and he detangles your legs from his waist. “Now let me focus, I have a reputation to uphold.”

There’s no laughing once two fingers press into you and you gasp at the invading feeling, but the stretch only burns for a while before it turns into pleasure and you are whimpering at his touch. “Fingers so deep.”

He smiles and you throw your head back. “Yeah? My dick goes even deeper baby, I’m just making sure you can take it.”

“I can take it.” You breathe out against his pink lips. “I was made for you.”

The taller’s eyes nearly eat you alive, fuck you were so sexy. “That you were baby. My perfect little cockslut.”

His fingers pull out of you brutally and you whine, but he kisses you roughly making you forget the loss. A hand wraps around your throat, squeezing it with purpose. You squirm in his hands and he pops off your lips.

Fingers coated with your arousal trace your lips and you take them in greedily, sucking your own juices off the tattooed fingers, moaning at the delicate taste, his other hand still locked around your throat.

“That’s my girl. All fucking mine.” You nod around his fingers and he finally lets go, gasping for fresh air. “‘M gonna fuck you now baby.”

Your legs fly open in response, letting him have his way with you.

“Do me a favor?” He asks while taking his hard length in his hand, jerking himself off while he awaits your response.

“What?” You hum, confusion written all over your face.

“Record this for me. I want you to see how I break you apart. How this pretty pussy makes a mess all over my dick. I want you to remember this fuck for the rest of your life.” His voice drops a few octaves and you can’t help but gasp and moan at his vulgar use of words.

You used to be innocent, at least, that’s what Jungkook used to think. In a way, he thinks you still are. Untouched and pure, only for his eyes and his hands to touch. Jungkook is honored that he was your first, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He was gentle and took care of you every step of the way. It was like that until you were begging and pleading for more. Sweet then, and sweet now.

He’s created a little monster, but he knows that your heart is pure and that’s what he loves most about you.

“Okay, yes.” His phone is back in your hands and you click record, watching him line-up his cock. Jungkook groans as he disappears snuggly inside you. “Mmm.”

He lets you get used to the feeling and once he feels your breathing stabilize he starts to thrust himself with strong strokes inside you.

Like the first time, you are struggling with the phone because you can’t stop shivering and shaking, you feel him in your guts and recording is much harder than pictures because it lasts longer and you can't stay still for that long. Not with dick inside you.

“K-Kook. I— oh.” You stop to moan when he hits your g-spot and he continues ramming that same spot over and over. “I- I can’t. Hand’s shaking.”

Your sweet boyfriend grabs the phone and lets you settle yourself. “That’s okay princess, I got you. Just lay there, I’ll take care of you.”

He records himself ramming into you for a few minutes, watching himself disappear into you on camera. The taller one can't even believe this is his reality. How did this even happen and most of all with him of all people? He truly was the luckiest man alive!

“‘S deep, Kook.” He fondles one of your breasts as he keeps a harsh pace, rubbing the hard nub with his thumb.

“Yeah baby? Tell me where you feel it.” He whispers loving the way you tremble, your gaze struggling to keep up with his.

“Right here.” You touch right below your belly, palm flat against the feeling of his cock inside you. “So so deep.”

You mumble something else, but he doesn’t get to hear it because your high pitched moans drown everything out. He lets go of your breast watching them bounce as he continues to pound straight into your sweet spot.

The camera catches it all though. The mess between your thighs look just as delicious on film as they do in real time. The sounds you make, the squelching noise that is being created by his cock going deep inside you, and most of all, it captures your beautiful face as it comes apart.

He presses on your stomach right where your own palm rests and you strangle out a whine. “I- I can’t. T-Too much.”

“You can take it. Remember?” His dick tears through you from the inside and you start yelling when he increases his pace. He’s fucking you mercilessly now and you can’t control the sounds that escape. “You were made for me, princess.”

“Yes, yes, I am.” You sound beautiful, but you would kill him if you guys got caught now especially in the position you guys are in.

His firm hand finally comes off your stomach and instead two fingers go inside your mouth, muffling your screams and whines.

The car rocks back and forth. He’s sure people know what the fuck is going on, the windows are foggy as fuck, for fuck’s sake, but you would hate him much worse for not finishing you off.

“Mmff, don— stopff.” He nearly giggles as you struggle to speak, but he keeps his promise quite well. He fucks you ever harder and deeper, his cock will surely fall off after this, but it’s all worth it. He slams inside, bottoming out fully before pulling out and repeating the same steps. “Fuhh-uk.”

“You like that baby?” Jungkook rasps feeling you squeeze tightly around him, which only means one thing, you are really fucking close. “Gonna come all over my cock princess?”

“Mmff.” You are quick to nod and hum sweetly. He decides to pull his fingers out, spit dripping all over. “Yes, yes. Please, don’t stop. Harder Kook- ah!”

Jungkook almost forgets he’s recording and he centers the camera again, wanting to capture every last second of this. You are glistening all over, he’s made a complete mess of you, but he is no better. Jungkook is dripping sweat and yet, that doesn’t stop his mean and precise strokes against your velvet walls, stretching you in ways you didn’t even know were possible.

The final straw is when you feel his messy fingers start toying with your clit and you are coming once again all over your back seats and wetting his cock just how he likes it. Being a squirter had its own perks with a boyfriend like Jungkook because that meant he never stopped fucking you until you completely had nothing more to give.

Jungkook curses when he starts to see your orgasm trinkle out, he fucks you all through it though, feeling the water-like pressure against his slit. And it doesn’t take long before an orgasm catches up to him.

“Inside.” You plead with a pout, eyes completely blown out.

With one last curse Jungkook comes deep inside your walls. He catches his breath for a few moments before pulling out slowly, making sure to capture the dribble of his come which sadly hangs onto your hole. “Push it out for me princess.”

“Nooo, we’re gonna make a mess Kook.” Jungkook shakes his head, a smile on his face because a mess has already been made.

“I’ll clean it. Now, push it out baby.” You almost cover your face because you are sure you turned red, but you start to push his seed out of your hole and he’s tempted to fuck it back inside.

“Fuck. That’s it baby. Perfect comeslut. Isn’t that right?” He stops recording once he’s gotten the shot he wanted and he starts to wipe you down with his shirt, lucky enough that he has a back-up hoodie to cover him after he’s done.

“Yes, all yours.”

You both smile against each other’s lips before he whispers. “I love you princess.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible baby.”

—-

JK❤️: hiiii 🙂

me: hi baby :) everything okay?

JK❤️: marvelous 😇 i just came watching that video we took earlier ;))

me: baby! 😠 i'm out with karina! can you not talk about sex for two seconds while im out

JK❤️: sure! just came all over myself totally wasn't watching our sextape back ;)))

me: nice talk jungkook.

JK❤️: come home soon~~ i miss you :((((

me: love you too lol

JK❤️: not more than me. come home soon im serious!!!

me: i'll see you later jungkook. ❤️

JK❤️: 😠😠😠

me: ❤️❤️❤️

#jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #bts x y/n #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you

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kissforyouu · 10 months ago

Text

...THAT is your boyfriend?

pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc

genre : fluff

warning : mention of drugs , little bit of angst

request : tiktok

a/n : sorry this is rlly short but LONGER drabbles of this story r comingggg js need to get them out of the drafts LOL

unedited.

this is like after about 3 months into their relationship btw!

"padamdam damdamdampadamdam, tupadadadadadamdam..." you speak nonsense, hand around your boyfriend's arm as you scrolled through your phone.

jungkook huffs, giving you the side eye. "what are you even saying?"

"shush, don't say anything." you comment, giving him a small glare and going back to doing whatever you were doing on the phone.

"yes, ma'am."

you both were at the mall shopping, going from aisle to aisle looking for cute clothes. mostly for you. jungkook didn't really care about what he wore. just some dark coloured clothes and a few rings will do for him.

"i was...hmmm...ah! this is what i was looking for earlier." you show your boyfriend your phone which displayed a picture of a plastic figure of cinnamonroll.

"the fuck is that?" he couldn't help but laugh a little, taking the phone from your grasp and zooming into the figure.

"it's cinnamonroll." you give him a sour look. how could he not know!

"i swear, it was pink before." he kisses his teeth, tilting his head to the side, curious about the mysterious bunny (not) figure.

"baby, that was poron. his sister." you correct him. "it's a HE?" jungkook's jaw falls a little, turning to look at you with a shocked expression. yeah. i felt the same when i found out too.

"it's okay. me too. can't believe i was supporting a MAN. but he's really cute, i love him!" you smile. jungkook glances at your face then back at the phone with a small smile forming in the corner of his lips.

"okay, where do we find this guy?" he asks.

"YAY!"

that was before you grabbed his wrist and practically dragged him out of the store.

"mm, jungkook, nooo, it has to be here!" you sigh, going through each of the figures displayed on front. he just hums, not really paying any mind to your misery.

a few minutes pass by and you were still searching for the little guy. at this point, jungkook was getting a little tired. he looks over to you who was crouched down, going through a pile of figures in a basket. he decides to take matters into his own hands and find this little guy for his girlfriend.

so jungkook walks away from you across the store to the cashier, asking for help. he shows a picture of the figure to the cashier, and while he goes through their computer trying to find if he's still in stock, jungkook wonders why you didn't do this first. dumb little girl, he thinks.

"sorry sir, seems like it's out of stock." the cashier speaks. jungkook thanks him, walking back to you. but plot twist! you were gone!

but something catches jungkook's attention. some guy holding your bag outside the store. what?

the corner of his lip twitched upwards, to not to form a smile but rather to form a scowl. what was some rando doing with your bag? he was leaning against the wall with a grin, examining your bag like he owned it.

jungkook walks upto the guy, giving him a tap on the shoulder. the guy turns around to look at him, raising his head up. shortass, jungkook thought.

"why do you have her bag with you?" he points at the bag.

"what? why are you asking?" the guy furrows his eyebrows, his lips twitching up to a sour expression.

"because it's my girlfriend's bag, dumbfuck. where's she?"

girlfriend? the guy scans jungkook from top to bottom. long hair, tatted arms, piercings. y/n can't be possibly be into...that? she can do so much better. the guy looks like he's on drugs. he probably is! he thinks.

"no way y/n's dating a druggy like you." the guy laughs mockingly, clutching onto the purse.

"alright, little man. fuckin tell me where my girl is or i'll pluck your toenails out one by one." he looked as if he was about to beat up the guy then and there, and he probably was too.

"fucking hell, man. god, there she is!" the guy rubs the back of his head, clearly annoyed as he moved away from jungkook. meanwhile, jungkook immediately turns around to see you walking towards both of them with a confused look.

"where were you?" you ask.

"no, where were YOU? and who's this fucker holding your shit?" he points at the guy who's walking towards you. confidently too. as if he knows you better than anyone else. jungkook's jealous, it doesn't take a genius to understand that. angry too. really fucking pissed that this shortass little man is interrupting their date.

before you could answer, the guy cut you off.

"y/n, here's your stuff. and i don't know who this is, but he's—

"i'm her boyfriend, dumbfuck!" jungkook shouts, frustrated.

"is he?" he turns to look at you for confirmation.

"yeah...?" you nod.

"you never told me?" the guy scoffs.

"i don't have to tell you about everything going on in my life?" you frown.

"y/n, he looks like he cheats on you with a different girl every week." the guy comments.

okay no, what the fuck. you're not going to tolerate some meanass comment about your boyfriend. but you also don't want to cause a scene. okay, nevermind—

"the fuck did you just say?" jungkook's clearly offended. but before he could do more, you grab onto his arm and pull him back.

"let's go." you say. he didn't really reply to you, but just gave you a scoff. okay. he's not disagreeing either.

"matheo, i'll talk to you later." you don't even bother giving the guy a smile, but just drag jungkook away.

"what was that all about?" you squeeze his biceps. jungkook pulls his arm away from you, rolling his eyes.

"nothin." he mumbles.

not wanting to continue this topic further, you just nod.

but it's odd. it's been about 30 minutes and jungkook hasn't said anything to you except replying to whatever you tell him. he's also been keeping a small distance from you. what's wrong again. ugh.

"baby, what's wrong?" you look at your boyfriend who was sitting across you mindlessly scrolling on his phone. he raises his head up to take one glance at you but looks back down immediately. instead, he just shakes his head.

"no, i know something's wrong." you protest.

jungkook sighs, placing his phone on the table before finally looking at you.

"you really want me to tell you?" he asks, his expression rather serious. uh oh. you messed up. but fine, you'll take it. you hesitantly nod your head, nervously scratching your skirt with your nails.

"i'm tired of keeping this private. i know you wanted time till you felt like telling people, but it's been 3 months already and we still haven't told a single soul."

oh!

"i don't want to run into guys like that ever again. fucking shortass. you know i care about you and respect your feelings, right? but i just...you know, want to tell people. it's fine if you still wanna wait. but this is just how i feel." he sighs, turning his head to look away.

you couldn't help but pout a little at his confession. you know he's right. it's been 3 months.

"okay. let's tell people. i'm sorry for making you wait that long. and thank you for telling me, gguk." you smile at your boyfriend who's eyes lit up at the mention of you finally publicly posting about your relationship.

"you're sure about this?" he re-checks.

you nod in approval!

"fucking finally. i can beat up every guy who approaches you now."

"okay, no no no no." you laugh, disagreeing COMPLETELY. you knew he wasn't joking either.

ᥫ᭡

taglist: @fungie233 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #bts jk #bts smut #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #fluff #fanfiction #sanrio girl #sanrio #whoop whoop

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luna-loveboop · 1 year ago

Text

Twilight and Legends relationship

...I love it

**in this post there's a lot of stuff I didn't notice before. I'm gonna resist the urge to write an essay on each point, and attempt to leave most of it up to the reader's interpretation**

Ok ok there's a ton of stuff here, starting with early character scenes

They're like the rest of the chain: They fight together and talk. Legend is close to Hyrule, and Twilight to Wild and Time.

We see some things Twilight and Legend have in common. One is their dislike of Hyrule knights, and-

As seen in the Gerudo clothes scene, both Twi and Leg like to mess around with pranks and have a lot of snark... wonder what would happen if they worked together

But there's something really important about how Twilight views Legend:

I wasn't aware this was before looking closely at their interactions but... Twilight didn't originally like Legend. This is shown a lot later on- in his facial expressions and words towards Legend. But from the start he didn't like him much, and here's why:

From the start, Jojo says this- Twilight judges Legend's actions as too harsh since his mannerisms come across as picking on someone. (Also Sky you are so so pure and cute 10/10 most huggable Link)

Legend is abrasive because he's had so many adventures- he's hardened to the point of being sharp. But it's wonderful that that character can still be so loved- his heart is good (hero duh)

Twilight has always been a big brother. It makes him well loved (rightly so). Jojo says he knows people can change- for good or bad. But because of his past Twilight doesn't like people picking on others "not even a little". It's complicated- we see it affect Twilight's attitude towards Legend a lot.

Anywho moving on to the plot

Wolfie, Aka twilight

Dark mirror stuff happens, and Legend finds out Twi's Wolfie- as we all know. But he can't just. Acknowledge it of course. He's gotta probe and tease, asking pointed questions (snark snark snark)

And in his attempts to be certain about the Wolf stuff, we were blessed with:

Bunny Legend

Welp. That investigation did not go as planned.

Animal forms:

Bunnies are soft, but Legends actions are not. He is guarded and sharp yet his form shows how sweet his true heart is

Wolves will love/protect their family yet are fierce, they have fangs and will fight. The root of who Twilight is is his kindness and family

Also (sarcastic) good job to Four and Wild for being SO SUBTLE with their emotions when Legend's asking questions hinting he knows Twi's secret

Legend: asking questions about the secret shhh

Four and Wild: Are having a freaking heart attack about it

Twilight: starts ranting about goats

...

Once Twilight gets over the shock of Legend like. Absorbing his crystal. He... well, looking at the harshness in his face and words, this is where Legend's attitude and his past with Colin being bullied biased him against Legend.

Look at his face in each panel through the progression- Twilight is more and more confused thinking legend is not who he thought he was...

And Twilight certainly sympathizes/relates to being hurt by losing someone he loved (in whatever form the relationship took)

And WHY is it always girlfriend trauma with these boys of COURSE it's girlfriend trauma that brings them together NOT SHARING A SPIRIT AND LOVE OF SWINGING GLORIFIED METAL NO THEY HAVE TO BOND OVER RELATIONSHIPS GONE WRONG

Twilight then thinks well that's a good reason to be pretty changed because from the start Jojo said he'll always understand people changing...

So they go, and make legend human again (with pink hair) and Legend is... surprised. And grateful...

Another few defining moments:

Legend's dialogue thanking him is the real start of them connecting like in Leg's original character description "the most reliable, you want him on your team"

And again Twi's face, Twilight is looking at Leg differently throughout this- contemplating to be honest. Considering...

And remember when I said these two both like to prank? Well the second they have a shared experience and get back to camp they immediately team up and start barraging Warriors with snark

Heaven help the chain when these two are on the same side

Legend has never been close to people outside of the few he's accepted as his (love him and hyrule's bond). After this? Twilight's one of his people. There's much more expression of caring and closeness towards Twilight- something we don't see with many.

And then, well, Twilight nearly dies. And Legend, he cares

Bunny boys puppy dog eyes are gonna kill me someday

Twilights pretty injured, he really doesn't see/remember all these moments showing how much Legend wants to help

And then we have this moment

this moment

Matters so so much

Look at Twi's face. Look at his surprise, realization, and acceptance- this is when he realizes- when he sees how much Legend cares for him

Twi woke from his deathbed for his family

and then in the next few updates it's really cute- he just is barely recovering and legend is just... beside him. Staying by his side

Animal forms later development:

Legend's bunny form is soft- but he is still not totally soft. Looking at Legends actions and facial expressions towards the others, while he's definitely closer to Twi now, he's still the snarky boy we know and love.

Twilight's Wolf form is loyal and loves family: Once he knows legends heart? Full on pack love.

And WHY were they so very intent on petting each other

Legend: I'm gonna go try and pet the wolf since I think he's my dude yes good plan

Twilight: I KNOW THIS IS WEIRD BUT IVE NEVER PET A RABBIT BEFORE LET ME TOUCH YOU

...

Here's a few random parallels of them to chew on because I love parallels (them snarky snarking each other, then some brother love parallels)

The thing with these two is their character bonding and whatever is not all sweet and lovey like some of the others. They have some REALLY sweet caring moments with each other. But snark plus snark equals double snark, meaning them together is the weirdest mix of kindness and teasing you've ever seen

And although at the beginning they were pretty harsh towards each other, it makes their getting closer and learning their similarities all the better.

#lots of food for thought #I was surprised to notice Jojos words and Twi's expressions showing he didn't like Legend at first #maybe the progression is the best part #they are so close and care so much #but the pranking???#literally the second they get back to camp after bonding they start messing with the others #the snarkiest boys what mischief will they commit #they're terrifying together #if legend hyrule and wild are the terror trio maybe these two are the terror duo #maybe legend being friends with anyone is just terrifying #loz #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #lu twilight #Lu legend #I love them so much #now onward! to homework!#ugh college

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sunnie-angel · 4 months ago

Text

Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood fic #sunnie writes 🌻

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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

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Oh Honey. ★ masterlist

Welcome to Honey, West Virginia! [COMPLETED FIC]

pairing : monster!joel miller x afab!mortician!reader

gen. tags : soulmates au, no outbreak au, monster lover, 18+ mdni

series summary : you’ve been given a gift. a fresh start in a brand new place, the sleepy little town of Honey, WV. a distant aunt has passed away and left you a little plot of land and her camper, the stars must be aligning for you because the local mortician is looking for an assistant and you’re desperate for the work experience. your new employer even offers to set you up with her brother-in-law! things are looking up, you’ve got a brand new home, a new town, a hot date, (and thanks to a series of bear attacks that started immediately after your arrival) you have more than enough work to keep you busy!

content warnings : eventual smut, teratophilia, graphic descriptions of violence, explicit descriptions of menstruation, graphic descriptions of the mortuary process, horror, depictions of extreme fear, body horror, graphic depictions of death, eldritch horror. this is a monster fucker fic, proceed accordingly

no use of y/n.

mostly no description of afab!reader given, other than the fact that she is younger than joel, has hair & has a period.

chapter one : down the rabbit hole (11k words)

[ When you were just a child you found a deer in the woods behind your childhood home. ]

Right on the edge of the forest where there was a road you weren’t supposed to go near. You had gone out to find stones to paint when you came across her. ]

chapter two : beware the jabberwock (15k words)

[ You don’t sleep well after your dream.

Just staring up at the ceiling until the sun is starting to shine through the windows.

Not that you’ve been sleeping well recently to begin with. And Joel suddenly feels less safe, the grip of his arms around you feels more like it’s trapping you rather than protecting you. ]

chapter three : we're all mad here (11k words)

[ “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Joel, Joel, Joel.

The only thing that consumes your thoughts. ]

chapter four : painting the roses red (11k words)

[ “Joel…” You give him a wary look as he bares his teeth at you, a low rumble starting in his throat as your instincts kick in. “Joel!” You yell like you would if you were scolding a dog and he freezes in place. ]

chapter five : i'll decide where to go from here (6k words)

[ “C’mere, bunny.” His stubble brushes against the back of your neck, his mouth is warm as you feel a kiss placed against your spine. ]

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey

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chaoticharrington · 1 year ago

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My Bunny

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x afab!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!!!, MINORS GTFO THIS IS NOT FOR YOU DNI AGELESS OR BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED, daddy kink, watersports(piss kink), spit kink, edging, slight impact play, soft but pervy dom!mike, bdsm themes,cockwarming, throat fucking, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, marking kink, inspection kink, cock and ball worship, oral fixation, p in v, slight orgasm control,porn without plot , & squirting

Summary: Mike comes home from a meeting with his aunt and needs to let off some steam

Authors Note: this is my first full length fic i’ve like ever written on this app i’ve only ever written i think maybe one other blurb besides this so be nice pls😭 if you have any requests i’d love to write more for Mike! I fell in love with writing this fic so I hope you guys like it :D

Word Count: 4.4k

Your eyes are so tired and heavy,begging you for sleep after staying up all night waiting for mike to get home. You like to be awake when he gets home from work because he always looks so tired and worn out.

Mike has since come and gone from your shared house. You both took a little nap once he came home from work before you had to get up and make breakfast and get Abby on the bus for school and Mike had to go to a meeting with his Aunt Jan. You get so nervous when he goes to see his Aunt, she’s a monster if monsters smelled like cigarettes and emotional manipulation. He always needed some cheering up after meetings like that and you wanted to be there for him when he came home. You hope it doesn’t go too bad, his aunt tends to get under his skin so easily.

You have lunch made and ready for him if he’s hungry. You’re just patiently waiting on the couch watching tv until he gets back. You’re still fighting your eyes to stay open and watch some random sitcom on the screen until you hear the door open and shut hard and abruptly. You snap your head towards the noise to see Mike leaning against the now closed front door with his eyes closed and yellow papers scrunched in his hand. You look up at him from the couch slightly spooked by his sudden entrance.

“Hi baby, you okay?” you say lightly, trying to gage where he is emotionally

“Get on your knees” he mutters as he sets the papers inside of the little desk by the kitchen.

“What?” you look at him a bit confused

He shrugs his jacket off and looks up at you clearly not in the mood.

“Don’t make me say it again, get on your knees please” he looks at you tiredly as he makes his way over to couch.

You continue to look up at him now with concern in your eyes, something’s wrong… something happened with his aunt. You open your mouth as if to say something and ask if he’s okay and decide against it, he will tell you when he’s ready to.

Not wanting to upset him even further you slowly uncross your legs and push yourself off the couch and then the floor and onto your knees.

“Good Girl” by says with a satisfied sigh

He puts his hand softly on your cheek and begins to rub circles on your cheek with his thumb as he hooks the rest of his hand under your chin and pushes your head up slightly so you have to look up at him. You look back at him with so much admiration and devotion, if this was how Mike needed to let off some steam you weren’t going to stop him. You’d get the details of what happened later but now… now you needed this as much as he did.

You shifted on your knees a little bit, trying to find any friction you could from the position you were in, but it was almost impossible in this position.

He hums in response to your neediness, he loves seeing how much he can fluster you with such little effort. His thumb moves to your lips rubbing circles into your top and bottom lip. You get the hint and open your mouth allowing his thumb to push past your lips and into your mouth. Without thinking you suck on his thumb and twirl your tongue around it.

“Fuuuck” he mutters softly “you look so pretty with your mouth full… my beautiful little bunny”

You hum and smile around his thumb at the nickname, you loved when he called you that, because that name was for you and you only. A form of ownership you loved and one you’re only willing to ever give to him.

He crouches down so his face is right in front of your face and slips out his thumb and replaces it with his pointer and middle finger.

“Do you mind if we play for a bit baby? I’ve had a rough day and all I can think about are your lips…”

Mike shoved his fingers slightly further down your throat and groans quietly

“and your pretty little pussy”

Your mind starts to go fuzzy at his words, he knows just how to make you putty in his hands. You nodded at him with his fingers still in your mouth, and spit starting to pool under your tongue threatening to escape your lips

“Good” he smiles slightly

He stands up and removed his fingers from your mouth with a slight pop. He unbuckles his jeans and steps out of them. You’re now eye level with the bulge in his boxers, you bite your lip to contain a moan.

You love so many qualities about Mike, you love how sweet and gentle he is with Abby, you love how patient and hardworking he is, you love his hands, his waist, but his cock was just made for you. Made for your mouth and hit just the right spot inside of you that made you see stars. You needed to feel it on your lips and down your throat. You look up at him searching his face for his approval to move forward with your thoughts. Already knowing what you’re thinking he nods his head in approval.

“Go ahead baby, over my boxers only. I wanna see all the..delicious.. things your mouth can do first, m’kay?”

You waste no time and start kissing and licking stripes along his boxers knowing you’ve not been giving the go ahead to take them off yet. You know Mike has a thing for your mouth and watching how you use it to make him feel good.

Mike has a thing for watching in general, he likes seeing how engrossed you get into making him feel good, he like seeing what makes you feel good. Which kisses make your skin shiver or which parts of your neck were the most sensitive,or part of your thigh that if bitten makes your legs shake, or the spot inside you that makes you squirt. He likes knowing you inside and out, which only makes every experience that much better.

Mike groans at the view, always in awe of how you know exactly how to make him feel good, even just over his boxers. You continue kissing and licking until you see little dark spots in his boxers from your spit. You move a little lower so you can open mouth kiss and slightly suck on his balls, getting a mouth full of wet fabric in your mouth. You see his stomach muscles tighten and you feel a hand go behind you head ever so slightly holding your head to his bulge.

His hand only encouraging you to do more, licking the tip of his cock through the fabric getting a hint of salty precum that’s already started to drip out. You moan deeply needing to taste more of it, sucking and making out with his tip even more. Light moans start pouring from his lips and his fingers start to get tangled in your hair.

“s-so fuckin pretty” he almost whispers

He pulls you back by your hair, and untangles his fingers so he can work his boxers off. His cock springs out in front of your face, your mouth watering even more already covered in your own spit.

He grabs the back of your head again

“Open up bunny” he orders softly

You obey and open up wide as he guides his cock into your mouth and tries to push it down your throat. You gag slightly at the intrusion, but swallow around him.

“S’okay angel, i’ve got you, just relax that tight throat of yours for me” he whispers

You nod as best as you can with your mouth now very full, and close your eyes to try and relax so you can fit more of him down your throat. You get a handle of breathing through your nose and start working the rest of his cock down your throat until your nose is touching the curly dark hair at the base of his shaft. You push even further down to make a point smushing your nose into his hair, and licking the vein on the underside of his shaft.

You look up at him again wanting to see the effect you’re having on him and that alone elicits another groan from his lips and his eyes to roll back.

“Doin so good baby so fuckin good for me” he moans shakily as he wraps both of his hands behind your hand and tangles them back into your hair. Bracing your throat for what’s going to happen next

“I-I just I gotta… I need to… fuck i’m sorry bunny I can’t hold back any longer.. s‘not my fault.. you just look perfect with your mouth all full.. need to fuck it” he utters

Your legs tighten at his words, rubbing your thighs together trying to chase any friction you can find between your legs. His hips start to move and his cock starts to go in and out of your mouth, slow at first as you adjust to him being in control. But before long his hips start to pick up in pace and his cock is roughly going in and out of your throat making the most obscene wet noises as spit now runs freely down your lips and down your chin.

He pushes his hips hard one more time against your head as your nose goes flush with his pelvis, pushing as much of his cock inside of your throat as he can, forcing a cough from your throat.

Then he pulls your head off of his cock just enough to spit on your face right above where your lips and his cock meet, his spit coats your lips and your nose slightly. You moan loudly around his cock, you loved when mike was like this… you liked being dirty and covered in anything and everything that was Mike Schmidt.

He then pulls you completely off his cock so you can breathe, you’re sputtering and catching your breath. You mind is clouding even more, not able to think about anything else besides Mikes cock or the wet patch you can feel growing in your panties and the throbbing between your legs.

“Look at you bunny… look at my messy fucking girl” he pants.

You smile up at him, pleased with his reaction, you want nothing more than to make him feel good, make him forget whatever happened with his aunt. You use your fingers to push any of mikes spit that didn’t make it onto your lips into your mouth, so you can taste every last bit of him that there is to offer.

“Jeeesus christ baby, you drive me fucking crazy you know that?” he chuckles lightly, watching you in absolute adoration. You chuckle slightly back at him brain still foggy and needing more.

“Can’t help it daddy, love your cock” you mumble with your fingers still in your mouth.

Before you could even begin to beg you were already over Mikes shoulder being carried into your shared bedroom and tossed onto the bed. You giggle as you flop on the bed, Mike grabs your ankles and pulls you back to him on the edge of the bed. He’s still standing in front of you, your legs on either side of him.

“Let’s see what we got here” as he goes down onto his knees,takes of your pants ,and spreads your legs further apart. Inspecting the wetness that’s now soaked the outside of your panties.

“Fuck me” he says barely audible. He starts to kiss and suck your thighs, leaving little red marks where he’s sucked a little bit too hard.

Marks are another perk of being with Mike he never ends a session without some part of you being marked. Wether that’s a bite mark on your thigh, or a hickey on your neck, or a little bruise on your tits (both because he refuses to do just one).

Your thighs start to shake in anticipation waiting for him to kiss where you really needed him, your entrance clenching at nothing, begging to be stretched. Your hands latch onto his brown curls trying to bring his head to where you wanted him.

“Not so fast sweetheart, let me take my time with you yeah? gotta make you mine” he mumbles into your skin as he leaves another kiss on your thigh. He continues his assault on your thighs, starting to bite and suck harder on your skin, leaving deep red and purple patches in their wake. You prayed some of them would stay so you could see them tomorrow.

He takes you by surprise by licking a stripe right up your clothed wetness and you both let out a loud moan, thanking your lucky stars that Abby was not home so you didn’t have to worry about being quiet.

“You taste so fucking good, could live down here forever” he praises

You moan finally getting the attention you’ve been waiting for, but you need more or you’re going to explode. Every part of your body is yearning for more, needing to feel him everywhere, wanting your brain to be even more empty than it already is.

“Please daddy please” you practically wail

With that Mike tugs your panties down your legs ,and throws them somewhere in your room for you to hunt for later. He spreads your legs even further apart so he can see the effect he has on you. He pulls your lips a part, your folds already gleaming with your arousal.

“So wet baby, this all for me?” he smirks as he runs his fingers through your folds dipping his finger into your entrance and bringing it up to circle your very sensitive clit

“All for you” you breathe

“I’m sorry I must of missed the last part, all for who baby?” he taunts

“You daddy all for you” you whine out as the circles on your clit get faster

“There we go that’s my girl” he coos.

He lowers his fingers and teases them at your entrance as his lips start to lightly lap at your clit. It feels like lightening as your whole body lights up with pleasure. Your hands grab on a little tighter onto his curls needing something to ground you. You can hear him moaning into your pussy, making the most lascivious noises known to man. Licking and sucking his way to your release, his fingers inside you picking up the pace, moving in the “come hither” motion that hits exactly the right spot inside of you to make you moan out his name.

“Fuck Mike fuck i’m getting so close.. so so close”

Which only eggs him on further, pushing his entire face into your pussy, needing to taste and lick every inch. His moans sending vibrations straight to your core, pushing you further and further to the edge of bliss.

“Yeah right there don’t stop! Please don’t stop need to cum! need to cum so bad, so close!” you cry out.

Right as your vision starts to white out and you feel your body start to push over the edge, his mouth leaves you and his fingers are pulled out from inside you. You sob at the betrayal, you were so close… so fucking close.

You blink away tears, looking at Mike who’s now taking his shirt off and climbing on top of you, licking his fingers that previously made a home inside you,and sliding in between your legs. He puts his hand over your mouth and positions your head to look at him straight on.

“Your orgasms belong to me, do you understand bunny?” he says sternly as he lets go of your face

“Y-yes daddy I understand” you croak

“Good, now grind on my cock” he commands, satisfied with your response.

You start to slowly move your hips back and forth against his length that was now situated directly in front of your very wet cunt. You both groan in unison at the feeling.

He grabs the hem of your shirt and ripping it off over your head to see more of you. Mike is laser focused on your chest watching your tits bounce back at forth in front of his face. Burying his face between them and switching between sucking and biting on your tits, leaving bigger and bigger welts across your chest.

“Mine all mine all fucking mine…” he babbles like a mad man into your new adornments.

His action igniting your hips to move faster searching for your release, the tip of his cock rubbing right up against your clit evoking a moan from you each time your clit rubs against it.

His lips find yours, finally, his kisses are rough,sloppy, and urgent. He wanted to consume every inch you, until every single part of you is his. Your teeth clash together and he growls into your mouth. He bites your lip hard enough to extract a yelp from your throat.

While your mouth is open he takes the opportunity to spit in your mouth.

“show me” he purrs

You push your tongue out of your mouth to show him the spit that has now pooled onto your tongue. His breath hitches as he grabs your jaw to inspect his spit on your tongue.

“swallow for me princess, yeah just like that, be a good girl f’me” he hums.

You put your tongue back into your mouth and swallow, sticking your tongue back out again to show that the evidence of his spit on your tongue was gone. You feel yourself starting to climb closer to your previously ruined release. The urgency to cum becoming more and more urgent.

Mike can tell, by the way your movements are becoming less controlled, he starts to rut harder against your pussy to propel you further to your release.

Mike abruptly stills your hips and lays down on his back, grabbing you by your hips and positioning you on top of him. You cry out against him in protest.

“What the hell Mike!” you whine

He looks at you sternly

“This is the last time i’ll remind you before you regret it. You belong to me, your cunt belongs to me, your orgasms belong to me and you will cum when I say you can cum, is that clear?” he commands

You clench around nothing but his words that float between the two of you.

“Yes i-i’m sorry daddy” you whisper

He looks at you satisfied with your response “Now remind me why I call you bunny” he taunts and cups your ass cheek with his hand and slaps it slightly.

A moan escapes your lips as you oblige him and sink yourself around his cock, feeling every inch of his thick cock fill the void inside of you. Once you adjust to his size, which you have to every time because of how thick Mike is, it stings as you fully seat yourself around him. You spring into action and start bouncing up and down on his cock. You put your hands on his chest for support trying to keep a steady pace, the coil inside of you tightening already in response to your two ruined orgasms.

“m so close daddy” you sob, tears now freely flowing from your eyes. Your two ruined orgasms was making every cell of your body scream with need.

“Awe is my baby close?” he mocks you with his hands on your hips. You nod in response not trusting your words, your mouth hung open in pleasure.

He responds by grabbing your hands in each of his and moving them to either side of your bodies and gripping them hard for stability as he uses that to slow your hips and piston his hips hard and fast inside of you.

“My bunny my fucking bunny… MY good… fucking… girl” he snarls

Any composure that you had previously is out the window as a full on scream leaves your lips and your vision completely whitens out and your jaw goes slack. Clenching and spasming around Mikes cock as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Fuck baby if you keep squeezing me like that m gonna cum too” he warns

But you can barely hear him, your orgasm washes over you in waves that seem to never end, every nerve ending pushing you further and further into pleasure until you completely let go. You feel all the pressure leave your body as a rush of liquid squirts onto Mikes cock making the most perverted slapping noises between your two bodies.

Your mind finally starting to come back as your orgasm begins to fade, and the room comes back into view. Mikes hips slow as you come back to, sitting up to meet your lips with his.

“God baby I love it when you fucking do that” he praises

Enveloping your lips back with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer into a heated wet kiss. He pulls away first to expertly roll you both over so he’s on top of you now. He pushes your legs up next to your head engulfing you in everything him, and you’re loving every second of it.

He wastes no time driving his cock back into you, not waiting for you to adjust anymore. You moan loudly still getting over the after shocks of your life shattering orgasm. With this new position he’s now so deep inside you, you can basically feel him in your throat.

“Mike oh my god Mike holy s-shit” you wail, barely able to keep up with the rough and fast pace Mike had set.

“sssh shhh baby just take it… fucking take my cock” he growls

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the overstimulation becoming too much to bear, your mind goes completely numb and your jaw goes slack.

“Aaahh there she is… there’s my little braindead bunny, just let me finish filling your pussy yeah? MY pussy” he coos

You could tell that Mike wasn’t going to last much longer his thrusts were getting sloppier and more erratic and his breathing was getting heavier, muttering obscenities under his breath. You loved this side of him, the almost animalistic side, the side that just needed you. It filled you with such pride knowing that you can do this for him even if you can’t do much else.

His hand slithers down to your now aching clit, rubbing rough circles around your bud.

“You can cum for me one more time can’t you? I know you can baby, just let go, daddy’s got you” he murmurs

It doesn’t take much to get you close to the edge again, just a few more swirls of his fingers and you were just as close as he is. The coil inside you begging to let go.

“Look at me bunny, lemme see you” he says sternly and out of breath

You look up at him, eyes big in desperation, searching his eyes for approval to let go. He nods at you, and with that an explosion of color happens around you and Mike. Your sobs and his grunts fill the room, surely over flowing into every house and neighbor in a close proximity. Both of you too lost in each other to care. You feel his warm cum splatter your insides full. Filling you entirely, feeling some of it spill out down your ass. His hands grip the sheets next to your head tightly, moaning into your neck and leaving soft praises and kisses. Reminding you of how good you are to him, how much he loves you, how beautiful you are. Your heart swoons over his words, you move your legs to wrap them around his waist not quite ready to part from him. The full feeling he gave you was too addictive to part with so quickly.

He deflates on top of you, both of you still breathing quite heavy from your previous activities. You lift your head up and move his to look at you.

“You okay baby?” you pant

He slumps his head onto your chest as he heaved heavily and shakes his head.

“…no… but just let me have this a little bit longer and then we can talk about it” he sighs tiredly

“I got you” you say warmly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pull him in even closer to you.

You both stay like that for awhile, rubbing and kissing each other. Mike makes sure to softly kiss every single mark he left on your body, like little apologies all over your skin. You didn’t mind either way, you loved taking off your clothes and seeing where he marked you, knowing you were his and he is yours.

You can feel him stiffen a little on top of you, and you have an inkling to what is gonna happen next. You clench around Mikes now soft cock inside you excitedly.

“You know what’s coming bunny, I know it’s your favorite… gotta claim this pussy as mine and mine only m’kay?” he whispers roughly in your ear

You moan in response, one of your favorite parts about being with Mike is how dirty he is, his kinks always match yours if not even dirtier.

Before you can think another thought you feel a warm stream of his piss pour inside of your aching hole mixing with his cum. Claiming every bit of you, body, mind, and soul. You melt into this feeling, feeling completely at peace if only for a moment. Completely at his mercy, taken care of and loved by him in every single way.

You allow him to scoop up your limp body from the bed and carry you into the shower to clean up. He rubs soap into your body and you do the same to his. Feeling slightly shy like this act is almost more intimate than what the two of you had been doing for the past hour.

You both lay back in bed clean, and you snuggle up onto his chest, hearing his heartbeat in your ear. He ended up telling you what happened in the meeting with his aunt, he cries to you in frustration and hopelessness because of how much he loves Abby. You soothe his sobs and rub his skin while you try and figure out how to fix it or help.

You both end up falling asleep in each others arms, putting off responsibilities just a little bit longer until one of you had to go and pick up Abby from school. And you can’t think of a better way to have spent the morning.

#mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt fic #chaoticharrington fics

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ludi-ling · 8 months ago

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Prompt 1 - Heroes

I knocked out prompt 1 like a rabid little plot bunny. 🐇 Thanks @lovethelebeaux for your suggestion!

Got a prompt? Post it in the replies of this post.

Happy Easter everyone! 🐤🐰🐥🥚

The prompt:

The story:

Heroes

It’s a beautiful night.

Warm, and sultry, like the woman he’s just spent it with.

He slings his trench coat over his shoulder and whistles a dissonant little tune as he heads up the grassy incline to the mansion.

He’s jumped the walls. He prefers not to trigger the cameras. His indiscretions are his own. In any other place, he wouldn’t care. But he does here, in this place where there are responsibilities, and truth, and justice.

He doesn’t fit in. He knows this already. He won’t ever.

I’ll be sad, if you go, Stormy tells him. But if you must, you must.

I ain’t cut out for this, he replies. I ain’t like all’a y’all.

And she raises a gentle eyebrow at him, says; After all we have seen, all we have been through together, you can still say such a thing?

We had some fun, p’tit, he concedes with a grin. But look at ya now. Ya all grown up, Stormy. You’re an X-Man. And I’m still just a thief.

He’s worse. But no one here has to know that, and he doesn’t want them to know, not ever. Guilt is a heavier burden, in a place like this. You weigh your soul against the goodness of others. Stormy figures he can find some sort of redemption here. But she doesn’t know the sins he must one day atone for.

Earlier that day, he’d started packing. But he hadn’t been able to resist one last hurrah before hitting the road once more.

He’ll go back to his room, have a shower. Sleep what little he can, before a new day rises.

Then he’ll bid his adieus and be gone.

He skirts by the lake, and as he does, he hears a nearby splash of water. Once, twice.

It’s too early in the morning for birds. He pauses. He steps around the dense trunk of the cedar tree and follows the sound.

He stops when he sees her.

Floating on her back in the water, eyes closed, her silver and cinnamon hair fanned out like a halo around her.

She’s never like this.

Rogue is brash and loud, and when she’s silent she’s sullen… sometimes sad. But she’s never like this. Calm. Peaceful. At home with herself.

He looks aside a moment, feeling like he’s encroaching on a moment, and not knowing how to extricate himself from it.

Truth be told, he doesn’t want to.

He’s been avoiding her. Not because he doesn’t like her, but because he likes her too much. She’s a reason to stay, and yet a reason to go. He wants to touch her, but he can’t. He doesn’t stay for things he can’t touch, he can’t steal. What’s the point in stealing a heart from a body you can’t touch, after all?

He hears her splash again, and his eyes move back to her.

She’s standing waist-deep in the water with her back to him, her hair a coppery sheen down her back. She lifts her arms and wrings the water from her locks.

�� She’s naked.

His heart is thudding in his ears.

He knows a thing or two about beauty, but something about hers stirs him every time, in places he doesn’t know could be stirred.

He slinks back into the shadows of the tree, and when he hears her begin to the leave the pool, he turns aside and quickly leaves.

He feels as if he’s intruded on something he shouldn’t have seen, that she would never have let him see. The sentiment has never stopped him before, but he tells himself this is self-preservation. If he sees her and she sees him, it’ll invite him to break a boundary he doesn’t dare articulate. After Belle, after Marissa, after all the women he’s fallen for, there’s too much at stake.

There’s too much.

He marches up the slope to the back entrance. He’d thought he’d worked out all his urges and then some tonight, but she stokes fires in him without so much as even throwing a look his way. Tugs at him with the memory of her kiss, one he can’t ever relive again.

He reaches the flagstone steps, and walks up onto the veranda. The need hasn’t gone, and so he pauses in the doorway and lights up a smoke to calm his nerves. He closes his eyes and breathes. When he opens them again, he sees her walking up the hill towards him, dressed in nothing but a blue, terry-cloth robe, her feet bare. She ascends the steps, oblivious to his presence, and when she sees him in the shadows, she starts.

“Gambit,” she almost exclaims.

“Rogue.” He steps forward a little, into the porchlight. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean t’startle ya.”

She says nothing. For a moment they stare at one another, a little awkwardly, a little something more. He hasn’t spoken to her for about a week now; but he’s sensed her eyes on him, sometimes, across the dinner table, or from the other end of the Rec Room. He’d pulled away from their banter and light flirtation because he’d slowly been coming to the conclusion that it was better to leave, but here, now… he doesn’t want to go without saying some sort of goodbye to her first.

Maybe he's even tempted to steal another kiss from her, her powers be damned.

“You’ve been out late,” she breaks the silence first, noting his trench coat and his unbuttoned dress shirt. She’d been aiming for flippant; but the words are a little self-conscious, a little defensive, as if she knows, instinctively, what he’s been up to.

“Looks like you’ve been too,” he responds quietly.

She colours a little, tugging the robe tighter around her, as if suddenly aware of her nakedness beneath it.

“I went for a swim, down at the lake,” she explains, almost in a rush. “It’s safer to do it now, when no one else is about. Don’t gotta worry ‘bout absorbin’ anyone.”

“Hm.” He nods. “Bet it reminds you of splashin’ round in the Mississippi durin’ high summer too, neh?”

She smiles then, a genuine smile.

“Yeah,” she says. “Sure does.”

Silence falls. She swallows. His heart is still crashing in his ears.

He can’t stop thinking about their kiss.

He guesses she can’t stop thinking about it either.

“Listen,” she blurts, after a moment, “I was wonderin’… Wolverine and I gotta trainin’ session tomorrow mornin’. You wanna join us?”

He’s surprised.

“Heh. You want me to hand your ass t’ya again, chere?”

She almost colours again – it’s less the ass-handing that bothers her, and more the kiss that had come afterwards.

“Naw. Ya just been lookin’ so sorry for y’self lately, I figured you could use a distraction.”

He laughs softly.

“Thanks but no thanks, chere. Three’s a crowd. And I know Wolverine don’t like me much.”

She quirks a small smile.

“That old grump don’t like no one.”

“He likes you.”

She looks aside, reflecting on that a moment.

“Well… I protected someone he loved. And in return… he gave me the gift of life.” Her voice had become quiet. “Before that… he hated me. Everyone here did.”

He’s surprised to hear that.

“Why?”

She darts a look at him, awkward again.

“Didn’t Storm tell ya?”

He says nothing, and so she continues; “I was with the Brotherhood. I… I did a lot of bad things. To the X-Men. To other people. To innocents.”

She clutches the robe tighter around her, as if to shield herself from her shame.

“I nearly killed Ms. Marvel – someone who’s a real hero. I stole everythin’ that belonged to her – her powers, her mem’ries – everythin’ that made her her. Her mem’ries ate at me. Drove me nearly t’madness. She was so strong. So strong, I began to fear I’d lose myself. So I came here. Hopin’ against hope that the Professor could help me. And he did. Just not the way I was expectin’.”

The words seem to take something out of her. She sits on the balustrade, still clutching the robe around her.

“When I first came here, everyone hated me. I couldn’t blame them. I’d tried to kill them, hurt them, countless times. But I had nowhere else to go.”

“And you earned their trust,” he finishes the story for her. “You became like them. A hero.”

She smiles up at him faintly.

“Everyone who comes here… somehow… we all end up heroes. Of one stripe or another.”

He laughs self-deprecatingly and grinds out his cigarette with his heel.

“I ain’t no hero,” he mutters.

“You seem to be doin’ pretty well so far.”

He shakes his head and moves to sit on the balustrade beside her. Close… but not close enough to risk brushing against all the naked skin she’s exposing right now.

“You’ve moved on from your past, chere,” he mutters, rubbing his long fingers together. “Maybe I ain’t ready yet t’move on from mine.”

She stares at him. There it is again. Her gaze, like fire on his flesh, in his gut and lower.

“Nothin’ you’ve done can be so bad it’s irredeemable,” she says.

There’s certainty in her voice. She believes it. Everything she’s experienced here, with the X-Men, has taught her to believe it. But he doesn’t. He knows what it is to stain his hands with blood.

“Would ya say the same to the Shadow King?” he asks.

She says nothing for a moment, and he thinks he’s caught her out – but she doesn’t take the bait.

“Y’know somethin’, Gambit,” she begins softly instead, “for the longest time I wasn’t sure whether I’m here now, fightin’ the good fight, because it was Ms. Marvel’s mem’ries, her personality, her goodness and sense of justice, that brought me here. Hell,” she exhales a heavy breath, “I still don’t know. Scratch the surface, scratch away all the psyches I’ve ever absorbed… when you get to the core of me, the real me, who is Rogue? Is she a murderer and a terrorist, who became a ‘hero’ because she absorbed a hero? Or was she a good person from the get-go? I genuinely don’t know anymore. Since I was thirteen, all I’ve ever had is other peoples’ personalities layerin’ over mine, over and over, buryin’ me under.”

She braves a look at him.

“Sometimes I get scared that… I’ll wake up one day, and discover the real me that’s been hidin’ underneath all that shit. I get scared I’ll kill everyone in their sleep. That I’m not – and never really was – a hero.”

Her eyes her greener under the porchlight. There’s an earnestness in them that tugs at him more powerfully than her body.

And he can answer her question. Because he knows it. Because it’s been self-evident to him since he first laid eyes on her.

“You’re a hero,” he assures her quietly. You’re somethin’ I’m not. He touches the sleeve of her robe because he can’t touch her hand, and he adds: “You’re a good person, Rogue.” He rubs the fabric between his fingers, because he can’t rub her own. “And… you’re beautiful.”

The earnestness doesn’t leave her eyes. She doesn’t look away.

“I think the same things about you,” she says simply.

She puts a hand on his knee, and he feels the warmth of each finger through the fabric of his pants. His heart is crashing in his chest. A touch has never felt so intimate. He leans towards her, and, Dieu, she’s brave enough to lean back towards him. He wants to kiss her so badly, he thinks he might chance it. He thinks he might chance oblivion, and all his ugly secrets being ripped out into the open, to kiss and be kissed by this sweet creature who swears she’s no angel, yet is nothing but to him.

For a few short, lingering seconds they remain there, a breath away from a kiss. She draws away first. He doesn’t know it now, but in the years to come, it will always be her who will draw away first.

“I… I should go. Gotta get up early for that trainin’ session tomorrow.”

She slips off the balustrade. He is still holding her sleeve, and somehow he can’t let go. She glances up at him.

“Will ya be joinin’ us?” she asks hopefully.

“What time?”

“Eight.”

He thinks about it. He’s been planning to be long gone by then.

“A’right,” he says.

She smiles. He loves her smile, because she doesn’t smile enough, not like the way she is right now.

“Great. I’ll see ya then.” She pauses, adds a little shyly, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He relinquishes her sleeve, and she pads up to the door in her bare feet, throwing him another smile over her shoulder before she leaves.

He heaves out a pent-up breath.

His senses are burning. She consumes him like the sun. She doesn’t need to touch him to do it.

He gets off the balustrade and goes inside. He climbs the lonely stairs and heads back to his room. He stares at the bag on his bed, the bag he’d packed only just this afternoon.

He thinks of his words. Words so painfully honest he’d never meant to say them until he’d said them.

You’re a hero. You’re a good person, Rogue. And you’re beautiful.

Her hand on his knee. The warmth of its imprint.

I think the same things about you.

He wants to be the person she sees.

He doesn’t know if he can be. But he wants to be, for her.

He makes up his mind.

Slowly, methodically, he begins to unpack.

-END-

#Romy fanfic #Romy #Rogue #Gambit #Rogue and Gambit #Remy LeBeau #Anna Marie LeBeau #writing prompt #canon compliant

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strawberryshortcake1495 · 6 months ago

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So I was rereading my sister’s old James and the Giant Peach book and I was struck with an idea.

Introducing…the Amazing Digital Peach!!!

If you read the JATGP book or watched the 1996 movie, you already know pretty much the whole plot.

Pomni is a 7-year old human girl who’s orphaned and has to live with her two relaxed but extremely neglectful uncles. They’re too lazy to do anything other than sit around and compliment themselves so they make Pomni do all the work around the house. They let her roam around freely but they’ll lock her in her room if she tries to go down to the shore to play with the other children.

One day, she’s doing work and comes across an old computer. She turns it on and on the screen it shows Caine, obviously. He tells her about these cool crocodile tongues that are inside a jar buried underneath where she found the computer. He instructs her on how to cook it properly and wished her good luck. Curious, little Pomni digs the jar out with her bare hands (because the dirt is really soft) and she decides to hide it from her uncles. If they find it, they’ll probably eat it and something bad might happen. She runs inside the house and to her room. It doesn’t have a lot of things in it, except for a rag doll, a gummy alligator, a king chess piece, a tragedy mask and some red ribbon, a purple bunny plushie, and a box full of random toy parts. Pomni trips on a broken floorboard and drops the jar of crocodile tongues. It breaks open and most of it spills onto her stuff. She tries to grab them (the crocodile tongues) but they’re already out of sight. She even saw a few actually crawl out of her window and towards the old ancient peach tree that was in the garden. With a bleeding foot and tears on her face, Pomni climbs onto her bed and decides to clock in for the day.

The next day, Pomni wakes up to find all her stuff gone! But she doesn’t have time to look for them, because her uncles are making a commotion outside. The ancient peach tree which hasn’t been able to grow a single peach in its entire lifetime, has started growing a peach that kept getting bigger and bigger and BIGGER. At first, Pomni’s uncles planned on eating it but then they decided to show it off to everyone else. Pomni was forbidden from going outside during the open house though, and was locked in her room. At night, her uncles send her out to clean up the mess (but they gave her an eaten chocolate bar to give her some energy). While cleaning, she noticed a hole inside the giant peach and went inside it. She climbed through the long passageway before she got to the seed, where a door was carved into it. She opened it and you can all guess what happened next. If you can’t, I’ll tell you anyway. Pomni saw all of her stuff inside the seed room, but they were much bigger and taller than her, and they seemed…ALIVE. Zooble notices her and welcomes her in the crew. Then Jax asks her to go through his endless wardrobe and get him his black leather jacket, and Pomni was way too scared to protest. He explains that he had gained sentience only 13 hours ago and the others chime in. Pomni tells everyone about the crocodile tongues and everyone’s weirdly calm with that. Once Pomni finds Jax’s black leather jacket, she gives it to him, and some rough banter between him and Kinger ensue. Gummigoo then noticed Pomni’s wounded foot and offers to patch that up for her. He takes out the tiny splinters, cleans the wound, and then bandages it with some gauze. Pomni is very grateful for his kindness and decides that she likes Gummigoo, as well as Jax because his snarky personality was entertaining. Then everyone goes to sleep, with Zooble making the beds by knitting string.

The next day, Pomni wakes up with the group cheering and hyping Jax up. Ragatha explains that Jax has razor-sharp teeth and he’s currently gnawing away at the stem that kept the giant peach from rolling off the hill. Pomni didn’t want to leave her uncles behind, since she didn’t really hate them, but decided to stay inside the room instead of leaving. Ragatha offers to carry her so she wouldn’t fall when the peach starts rolling, and Pomni agrees. She liked being held by her new friend, it reminded her of her late mother. Though the holding thing didn’t work, because when Jax finally broke the stem, the peach started rolling down the hill and the first thing Pomni did was fall out of Ragatha’s arms. Meanwhile, her uncles didn’t even seem to notice that she hadn’t returned last night and were just counting their money. When the peach started rolling, they were instantly crushed (R.I.P).

And the rest is pretty much what happens in the original book! I’m not good at drawing, so I’ll give you key design details if you ever want to make fanart of this AU.

Pomni has cute little pigtails, like this ⬇️

She also wears a dirty white gown with short sleeves!

Jax has a little tuff of hair at the top of his head and he wears a simple black leather jacket over his overalls (you can give him sharp teeth too if you wanna stick to the razor-sharp teeth thing)

Ragatha, Gummigoo, and Gangle look pretty much the same lol

Zooble has a bit of a darker color scheme, with more purples, blues, and blacks. It doesn’t have to be specific, she does canonically mix and match.

Here’s a little fun fact: Pomni’s uncles are based off Chad and Max, Gummigoo’s friends (and apparently brothers according to the wiki). They’re not maliciously evil so I made them chill but they are kinda supposed to be problematic so I made them extremely neglectful.

Anyways, hope you guys like this! I think I’m seriously cooking here.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc pomni #gummigoo #tadc ragatha #tadc jax #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #tadc caine #chad tadc #max tadc #james and the giant peach #tadc au

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author-morgan · 1 year ago

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Title: Riverside Rating: M Pairing: Harald Finehair x fem!Reader (and Halfdan the Black) Summary: Harald Finehair may be a fool, but at least he has his brother, and at least he has you. ❤️plot bunny that's been collecting dust for two years by @mrsragnarlodbrok ❤️

down by the river by the boats, where everybody goes to be alone

“YOUR BROTHER IS a fool,” you remark, watching Harald Finehair slip away with the princess who once promised to be his queen—the woman whose husband had only just been murdered in the early hours of the morn. Halfdan the Black watches his brother too, lips twitching as he lifts his cup of ale, taking a short quaff of the weak brew. He’ll be glad to leave England—an army of this size meant dwindling supplies, game, and ever-weakening ale and mead.

He picks off another hunk of meat from a roast pheasant. “Is that meant to be news?” Halfdan asks in turn, smiling as he flicks his stringy blond hair aside and out of his eyes—his dark gaze flitting back to you. Harald’s always been a fool when it comes to women and love, and Halfdan doubts time and age will ever change that.

“Halfdan,” you chide. Harald is a fool—a fool for thinking Ellisif would wait for him, a fool for killing Vik so crassly in the heart of the camp. You both know he is, but watching Princess Ellisif slip away with her husband’s killer makes you uneasy. Grief and the thought of vengeance would not have left her mind yet. And such things can drive people to act in unpredictable ways. “You don’t think it’s odd she wishes to seek a private audience with him only a few hours after he killed her husband?”

Halfdan raises his brow—the blue-black ink of the tattoo on his temple and forehead twitches and wrinkles. At the moment, he’s more content with filling his belly and entertaining your company than fretting over his brother, yet you won’t let the subject rest so easily, and deep down, Halfdan knows you are right, as is the feeling of dread in his liver. “Had it been me, the thought of retribution would not yet be gone, nor the fog of dolor.”

You make a convincing case, and with a sighing frown, Halfdan pushes away from the table and you, heading toward Harald’s tent—hand resting on the hilt of his sword, knowing already he will have to serve as his brother’s protector once more. A moment later, Halfdan emerges from his brother’s pavilion. The sword in his hand is coated with blood, bright and red. And it would seem, after all, he knew women far better than his brother—or at least how to listen to you.

He frees a cloth from his belt and slides it down the blade, cleaning it with a single long swipe as he looks at you, watching and waiting. Halfdan doesn’t have to say anything as he approaches for you to know, but regardless, your lips quirk upward. “Told you,” you declare, and he makes a low sound of agreement from the back of his throat, taking the cup of ale you offer. You knew Ellisif would not have so easily nor quickly forgiven Harald for his transgression, especially after not upholding her promise to wait for marriage.

Harald’s curses and fit of rage ring out in the brisk air. You know there’s little that can soothe his heart and pride, but if anyone in the Ragnarsson encampment can make an earnest attempt, it is you—Halfdan knows this too. “I’ll see to him,” you breathe, taking one last drink of ale. Halfdan grips your arm before you can go to his brother and leans close, offering a soft, quick kiss over too soon.

THE RIVER FLOWS slowly, given its breadth near the encampment of the Sons of Ragnar—a hundred longships are pushed up against the banks and moored in the water. Together, you and Harald walk along the water’s edge, heading north, where fewer ships and wandering eyes and ears are. The blood on his hands and chest is nigh dry, and it makes his red woolen tunic stick to him and stiffens his silver-tinged beard.

Harald Finehair looks at you but cannot dispel what you must think of him, of these circumstances—your expression is only a cool mix of solicitude and what he thinks is annoyance. Yet again, he finds himself failing to understand the mind and heart of a woman—one he has known since childhood, no less. “My brother is lucky,” Harald admits, feeling a spike of jealousy stab at him as he thinks about you and Halfdan, “to have only ever loved you.” But had he ever truly loved Ellisif beyond his desire for her beauty? Even he is not sure of the answer.

You stop near the prowl of one of Jarl Olavsson’s ships—his shields and sails marked by white and dark green—and stare at Harald, aghast and confused by his insinuation. “Do I no longer have your love?” You ask, reaching for him and the leather ties at the neck of his tunic.

“I had thought–” his voice trails off as he looks at the flock of blackbirds flying overhead, unsure if it is a sign from the gods or just an ill omen. He lets you draw him nearer, but it’s only when the flat of your hand connects with his bloody cheek that his gaze and attention return to you—his stormy blue eyes filled with bewilderment and indignation. He stares at you, nostrils flared.

“No, Harald!” You’ve finally grown exasperated by his foolishness—you could tolerate his laments about love and marriage, but to nigh let himself be killed by a recreant woman under such circumstances? “You didn’t think!” You tell him, and Harald steps back, hands curling to fists at his sides. He needs to hear this, though, if not from his brother, then from you. “And if you did, it was with the wrong head.” The same head all men think with first when it comes to women.

“You speak to a king,” he reminds you, puffing out his chest—a weak reply, and you both know it.

You shake your head and reach for him, hands settling on either side of his blood-spattered face—thumbs following the blue-black scrollwork of the tattoos on his cheeks. “And I am also speaking to one of my oldest friends,” you remind him. King or no, Harald and his brother are among your oldest and dearest friends—they could be little more than farmers or simple whalers, and you would think no less of them nor love them less. There’s a shift in Harald’s expression then, as though he realizes the error of his ways in disregarding your and Halfdan’s counsel, and hubris fades to humility. “One whom I care for and love very much.” Love, the word catches him off-guard. Then an ephemeral smile returns to grace your lips. “Even if he is pigheaded at times.”

He forces down the growing knot in his throat. “My brother–” Harald starts, but you press your fingertips to his weathered lips, shushing him and chasing away any apprehension or fear of driving a rift between the three of you with what comes next. “Halfdan knows,” you tell Harald with airy unconcern—fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged wiry beard. Your trysts had never been clandestine, even before whatever this unspoken thing with his brother began before the first raid on Paris. “He’s very astute,” you remark, the corner of your lips quirking upward again. “You could stand to learn a thing to two.”

He huffs, then goes to the river, shrugging off his tunic, and kneels at the water’s edge, splashing the cold water on his face and chest—scrubbing the drying blood of the woman he once intended to marry. He stares at his reflection, shoulders falling forward, accepting his ill-fated pursuit of marriage and defeat, alas. “I’ve been a fool,” he grumbles. You crouch next to him, dipping your hand in the river to help wash the blood from his shoulders and the back of his neck, humming your agreement—gladdened to know it is no longer a whispered secret between you and Halfdan. “You’re not supposed to agree with me,” he admonishes, mirth slipping back into his tone.

There’s a scar on his shoulder, and without thought, you lean toward him, placing the gentlest and quickest of kisses on the raised patch of silvery skin. You can recall how he and Halfdan have gotten most of their scars, but the history of this small mark evades you right now. When you meet his eyes, you see him staring at you with a look of raw hunger and desperation you’re entirely unprepared for, and it sends a wave of heat washing over you. But he’s so gentle when he handles you—even in all his lingering anger and hurt.

He holds your chin until his thumb swipes across your flushed cheek—always touching you like you’re some fragile, precious thing and not a shieldmaiden—and then his lips part, and he exhales a shaky breath, waiting for your permission, spoken or otherwise. You give it with a breathy sigh of his name. Harald. His warm breath hits your cheek, followed by the faint tickle of his scraggly beard at your jaw before his lips are fully on yours. “Let me have you.” His plea is soft against your mouth—and you cannot deny him.

Skirts rucked up around your waist, Harald grips your hips, drawing you closer to him until his wool and linen-clad thigh presses between yours. His touch is fervent—hot palms, calloused from years of battle, scrape over the bare skin they touch. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before kissing you—languid and soft. Your hands grasp at his back to pull his chest to your own. And then he fumbles to loosen his belt, but you knock away his hands, and Harald curses and groans when your hand slides into his undone britches, fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock—stroking him.

Your stomach flutters as his fingers caress you briefly, fleetingly—but gone far too soon. Your hips move towards his touch, but now is not the time for drawn-out caresses and teasing. In truth, he's not focused on your pleasure but more on his desire.

Harald pushes forward, rocking his hips slowly until his cock is fully sheathed inside the warmth of your cunt, and his hips meet yours. You gasp, somewhere between a whine and moan, head tipping back, and Harald takes the chance to press his lips to the base of your neck. He’s gentle as he trails a hand down your side and holds your waist—he and Halfdan have always been two sides of the same coin as lovers.

You lay back—letting him do as he pleases. He needs this moment, this release, far more than you do. His thrusts start slow, lazy almost, as though you’ve all the time in the world—like you’re back in Tamdrup on a spring night in a patch of wildflowers or bale of loose straw in a stable, not lying on a muddy English riverbank on the verge of another battle—not knowing if tomorrow will be the day Valhalla beckons you home.

He looks down at you—splayed beneath him and his gut twists with a sickening realization. I’ve been a fool, Harald thinks again, cradling your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your parted lips, chasing a woman who could never love me. But you. It did not matter what misfortunes or victories the gods bestowed upon him. You were always there—never faltering from your place at his and Halfdan’s side. He’s only ashamed not to have realized or acted sooner.

Your legs spread wider to welcome him, squeezing at his shoulders to urge him to move faster. Every push and pull of his hips brings him deeper inside you. Harald pants at your ear, his breathing ragged and strained as his pace falters—thrusts growing quicker and rougher as he seeks release. Beneath your palms, the muscles in his back ripple, contracting with each thrust. His lips find yours again, and you pull him down closer until his bare chest presses against the rumpled wool of your dress bodice—nails scraping across his shoulders and the patchwork of tattoos on his shoulder blades.

The look in Harald’s eyes is nigh unsettling—a mix of emotion you do not wish to think about in this moment of lust and carnality—and you squeeze at his biceps, urging him to move faster, and when his trance breaks, he obliges. He breathes hushed praises against your neck and strokes a thumb over the racing pulse in your neck as he rolls his hips up into yours—strokes long and deep.

You whine and squirm for him, grinding your hips into his. The next time he moves, his cock strikes the place inside you that makes you cry out without thinking, and your toes start to curl—he does it again and again, thrice over. “Harald.” He works himself deeper still, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through you or the way your muscles tense—cunt squeezing his cock tighter. His breathy, open-mouth kisses grow sloven as you fumble to keep in rhythm, your movements slack—distracted by the fog of ecstasy in your head.

Breath hot against your lips, his eyes drift shut in unison with yours. Behind closed eyes, all that triumphs is the feel of your bodies sinking into each other. He will not last much longer. Harald barely manages a coherent rasp of your name, teeth gnashing, when his entire body shivers and he stills deep, deep inside, cock twitching.

His livid eyes are dark, like a stormy sea when they open once more, and there’s a crease between his brows that you have a yearning impulse to kiss away—and so you do, and in the wake of your lips, you smooth your fingertips over his brow. “I do love you, Harald,” you tell him—a breathless whisper—and suddenly, the knot in his throat and the offbeat feeling in his heart is back. “Just as I love Halfdan.”

He says nothing, only rests his forehead against your shoulder and shivers when your hand runs along his back, finding his dark braid to run your fingers along. But there’s a new dampness on your flesh—tears for love lost and love found.

HIS TEMPER IS quelled upon returning to the encampment, even if his heart has yet to mend. Halfdan rises from his spot at one of the fires, leaving the waning conversation with Björn Ironside when he sees you and his brother approach. The whispers around the camp of what happened between Harald, Vik, and Ellisif have already faded with new discussions of the army’s next move in Mercia—steadily creeping closer to Wessex and retribution upon King Ecbert for his part in Ragnar’s death. Harald swallows his pride and glimpses you before turning his attention to Halfdan. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “Yet again, I owe you my life.”

“I’ll always watch your back,” Halfdan replies, pressing a cup of ale into Harald’s hand before clasping his shoulder—then his gaze flits to you, and he smiles, a glimmer shining in his dark eyes. “But next time we tell you to kill someone, you should listen, yeah?” Harald shakes his head, looking down into the cup of ale with a dry laugh. You both told him to rid himself of Ellisif before setting sail to England. He should have listened then—knows he was a fool not to have. But once more, it is the three of you, and maybe that is how the gods always intended it to be.

[Harald & Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @kaexiao / @midnightmuze / @moonlightsspirit / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenfinehair / @queenyalo / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Vikings taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

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ananicoleta · 10 months ago

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Looney Tunes headcanon time!

I've been thinking about this for a while so now I gotta share it on here!

Bugs Bunny doesn't get mad easily. That's just how he's wired. Calm, collected, level-headed, usually pretty relaxed, lazily strolling down the street while humming a merry melody (eh?), he prefers to chill and doesn't really take anything seriouslly.

A Warner Bros. intern messed something up, be it accidentaly or because he was a careless idot? Bugs doesn't even flinch and immediately finds a way to fix whatever it is.

A student at Acme Looniversity is goofing around way too much during a lesson? All Bugs has to do is give him a look and the child stops at once, but he never raises his voice or loses his temper.

One of his enemy messes with him? Pfff, are you kidding? That's the most fun he's gonna have all week!

Even when he gets irritated by one of them, he doesn't actually get mad mad and he certainly doesn't hate them (he's too cool for that). It's more of an "oh, he interrupted my peaceful afternoon? now i'll have to fuck his entire shit up" kind of thing. He might be mildly annoyed in the beginning but by the time he starts plotting the poor soul's demise, his irritation is long gone. His motivation is rather the principle of "don't mess with me" rather than anger.

Sometimes Bugs will fake being mad to get his point across (to scare people, usually a nemesis or a student), but again, he's not really angry, he's just exaggerating.

However, and this is where my headcanon comes in, this doesn't mean that sometimes Bugs Bunny doesn't get pretty fucking MAD.

Like I said, it's very hard to get him at that point. But when he gets there oh, Lord have mercy! And it's not what people (who have obviously never seen him in that state) might think.

He doesn't shout. He doesn't get physical. He doesn't throw a tantrum. If he does any of those then again, he's not really mad. He either does it for comedic effect or to intimidate. No. It's much more unsettling than that.

Instead, he just goes quiet. And not the usual relaxed, watching-shit-go-down-from-the-sidelines quiet. Oh, no. He's rigid as a statue. His upbeat expression is replaced by one of pure coldness. No condecending smirk, no smug look, no playfullness in his eyes. Just a motionless face with an icy stare.

If Bugs speaks when he's like this he doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. Instead, his tone is serious but surprisingly... calm. Not relaxed like it usually is, but more like... even. Controlled. Firm. There is a slight strain in his voice as if he's doing his best to hold back the greatest rage someone has ever seen (because he is).

If he does this to anyone then that person/toon will most likley shit their pants. Because they know, oh, they know they fucked up big time if Bugs Bunny acts that way towards them.

Whenever he's like this literally everyone is scared of him. Toon or human, doesn't matter, if Bugs is this angry YOU STAY OUT OF HIS WAY.

No one messes with him, not Elmer, not Sam, not Wile, not Marvin, not any of his enemies, no Acme Loo student, no WB intern, even the executives are nervous around him if he's like this. Even Daffy, who gets a kick out of pushing Bugs' buttons every time, is nope-ing himself out of that situation so hard. Like nope. Not today. Nuh-uh. He wants to live, thank you very much.

I feel like I should mention that Bugs isn't cold hearted though. Even if he is in this state he will not be a prick to people who have done nothing wrong or to the ones he cares about. He realizes it's not their fault.

He might be a little distant but it's just because he wants to be left alone to calm down. The others know and understand and will leave him to cool off.

Again, though, he doesn't get this angry that often. In all his life he's probably been like this like three or four times (which is very rare given that he's been around since like what? the 40s? but even if it's happened only a few times it was enough to earn him the reputation of being really damn scary when pushed to far).

Also, he's never ever like that because of a Looney Tune or an Acme Loo student or anyone he cares about. If you are part of the aforementioned categories then it's damn near impossible to get Bugs to be that mad at you. Annoyed? Sure. Angry? Sometimes, yeah. But never mad like that.

No. This type of rage is reserved for a special breed of people. The ones that have crossed Bugs big time, that have done something really messed up.

What makes this so scary for the others witnessing it, even if it's not aimed at them, is the fact that it's so different compared to the way Bugs usually acts. Like, he's almost unrecognizable. Besides, the rabbit is pretty powerful given his whole WB mascot gig thing. He can rock your entire world with just a snap of his fingers.

#the mesaage is don't push bugs too far #trust me others already did it #they thought they could mess with him since he is just a dumb bunny/cartoon #it did NOT end well for them #fuck around and find out at its finest #also idk why i wrote this it's past midnight here and i have school tomorrow haha kill me pls🥲#looney tunes #bugs bunny #daffy duck #elmer fudd #yosemite sam #wile e coyote #marvin the martian #tiny toon adventures #acme looniversity #headcanon #looney tunes headcanon

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january-summers · 1 year ago

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Hmmm, what's new in Plot Bunny Land today?

Pre-series canon divergence where Epsilon's self-destruction left Wash in a vegetative state, his brain is completely intact physically, but it's a case of the lights are on and no one is home.

Not one to waste resources, Director decides to use Wash's empty brain to house Alpha instead of Private Jimmy. And Alpha creates a version of himself that blends what little is left of his own sense of self with the remnant memories of Agent Washington.

So Alpha wakes up in Blood Gulch convinced he's David Church, Dr Leonard Church's son and Agent Carolina's older brother and he worked for Project Freelancer in Command and oh god oh fuck oh NO, he's responsible for his sister's death. His father had him reassigned to the backwater Blood Gulch outpost as punishment because Alpha David is still his son but Director cannot even look at him right now.

(Worse, he thinks he got his sister killed because he was distracted by an affair/breakup with Agent Texas. Allison Beth, he calls her Beth, it's her middle name and she honestly preferred it and Allison was his mother's name.)

And Florida Butch Flowers thinks: good enough.

(There's still huge gaps, but Butch manages to convince him it's from brain damage when the MOI went down, so Church rolls with it.)

Except Wash isn't gone. He was just recovering.

Tucker has many concerns about his team, his CO is... certainly something, and he's convinced Church has a split personality disorder he doesn't seem aware of.

Church's ability to hit a target with a gun is inversely proportional to how much of a prick he's being. (or: Wash can hit his target, Church still cannot.)

Caboose likes Church. All of him. The nice-ish one and the mean one and the psychotic one. All Churches are good Churches and shall be his Best Friend. Yes.

(Wash is trying not to lose himself to the trauma Epsilon left behind, tries to cling to the outgoing and social person he was before, but sometimes he just really wants to do a violence. There's nothing wrong with that.)

Obviously Wash does not die by friendly fire, but he does maybe get severely injured which still prompts additional Freelancer backup.

Freelancer reactions start with "Oh, so this is where they hid Alpha" (for those in the know) to "Why does Church seems so familiar at times? ... HOLY FUCK WHAT DID THEY DO TO WASH?!?!"

Florida's survival is optional. Options are Optional.

(Ohhhh, Florida having Wash's emp unit in case of absolute emergencies.)

#rvb #red vs blue #leonard church #agent washington #more plot bunny nonsense I have not the spoons to write #I actually have another similar au floating around that has even less than this ^#it's literally just: Epsilon and Wash blend during the initial implantation because Wash's brain brains weird #and they think they're one and the same person now #they can't tell where one begins and the other ends

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sparrowmoth · 1 year ago

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Dumping a plot bunny on the side of the road: AU where Jan Van Eck had bought a summer home in Novyi Zem as a wedding for his bride, and the Van Ecks ever since used to spend half the year there. They kept to themselves in the sense that they were often seen, but rarely spoken to.

Not for lack of trying on the part of their neighbours on the farm to one side, which belonged to the Faheys. Colm had tried to welcome them when they first arrived, especially seeing as the Van Eck boy looked not much younger than his own son, but Van Eck had told him coldly that his son had prior engagements and no time to play with farm boys.

One day, though, when Jesper is seven, he sees the red-faced Van Eck man come running through their fields, calling out for his parents. They tell Jesper to go upstairs, but he creeps into the stairwell and overhears them in the kitchen when they let the man inside. He's frantically exclaiming about his wife and son, apparently poisoned.

He hears his mother conduct herself with no concern to how this man has treated their family. She rushes out the door to help, promising Jesper to return before he sleeps that night.

But she never does.

Because the Van Ecks are dying. The mother and son. She can't save them both. Marya doesn't begrudge that, but begs her... save Wylan.

And Aditi does.

Wylan lives because Aditi takes the poison from his body and dies in his place under the Van Eck's roof.

It all happens so fast after that, once Marya has gone. Van Eck sells the summer home and moves his son back permanently to Kerch, never saying a word of condolence or regret to Jesper or Colm.

Not even a goodbye.

Not from Van Eck or... his mother.

She never had the chance.

Jesper never forgets, though, the name Van Eck.

Every target he shoots, he can see that man's face in the doorway that bright summer day, about to take his mother from him forever.

She didn't teach him vengeance, but Kaz...

Kaz finds vengeance is a useful thing to nurture.

And Jesper is a poisonous plant in bloom.

#wesper #in spirit <3 #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #shadow and bone #six of crows #jan van eck #my writing #orphan plot bunny #god the way this possessed me #I was cooking and I just had to sit down and write this as if in trance #take it from my hands #djdkdmdm #aditi hilli #rip queen i love you sm

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vodika-vibes · 1 year ago

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Ner Kar'ta

Summary: As a long time servant of Palpatine, you take what joy can can when you can. And for Commander Fox, the lost Prince of Mandalore, you are the only bright spot in his life. And now Palpatine knows it.

Pairing: Prince!Fox x Reader

Word Count: 3023

Warnings: Angst

Mando'a used: Ner Kar'ta - lit. My heart

A/N: This is technically a sorta sequel to the Wolffe version of this AU. Technically. But you don't have to read it to understand. Also, while I would normally write this tomorrow, I got mugged by a wild plot bunny, so here it is.

Divider by saradika

You quietly hurry down the cold hallway, the torches Lord Palpatine uses to light the part of his palace devoted to his servants barely bright enough to cast enough light, let alone offer any warmth to the people unfortunate enough to call it home.

You’ve gotten very good at layering to stay warm. Though your slippers do little to protect your feet from the chill of the stone beneath your feet. But, it’s better to have cold feet than to wear something thicker that might make more noise.

Silence is the name of the game as one of Lord Palpatine’s servants.

And you are very good at silence.

You turn down a side hallway, your feet leading you to a specific room. Though you falter when you notice the red clad guards standing at the door. Lord Palpatine’s Imperial Guard.

Why they’re called that, you’re not sure, but it doesn’t matter. The red clad men and women are as cruel and vicious as the men who hold their leashes. You press your back against the wall and duck your head, your arms folding tightly around the rough cloth satchel in your arms. The red clad guards don’t even glance towards you. Which is probably the only upside to being a servant, you are so unimportant that you might as well not exist.

The door to the room that is your final destination swings open, and you immediately stop leaning against the wall, and bow your head. You hear heavy footsteps, and then a pair of heavy boots stops in front of you.

You don’t look up as Lord Vader stops in front of you, and you can feel him glaring down at you with those terrifying yellow eyes. “You are here to tend to the Commander’s injuries.” His voice is flat, and his sentence, which should have been a question, comes out more as an order.

“Yes, My lord,” You whisper, your voice barely loud enough to be heard.

There’s silence for another moment, which, to you, feels like an eternity, and then the boots turn away from you, “The Commander has a few broken bones, girl. See to it that he’s healed properly for his duty in the morning.”

“Yes, my lord. Right away, my lord.” You keep your head bowed until Lord Vader and the Imperial Guards are gone, and only then do you feel comfortable lifting your head and hurrying down the hall.

You open the door only wide enough for you to slip in, “Commander?” You ask from the doorway just before you shut the door with a quiet click. The room is just as badly lit as the hallway, but even so, you’re able to see the Commander sprawled on his mattress.

You cross the room as quickly as you dare, and you smoothly sink to your knees next to his head. Quickly, and with the ease of long experience, you remove the Commander’s helmet, “Fox? Are you with me?”

He groans and slowly opens his eyes.

He looks…bad. His bruises have bruises, though you don’t see any blood, thank the stars for small mercies, you suppose. “Ner kar’ta,” He murmurs.

Relief washes through you when he speaks, his voice rough from disuse, and in spite of his bruises and injuries, his eyes are bright and alert, so no head injury this time.

“I’m going to remove your armor.” You whisper, “Where is the pain the worst?”

His lips curl up into a ghost of a smile, “Buy a guy dinner first, ner kar’ta.” He jokes weakly.

“Well, it’s your lucky day. I was able to smuggle some fresh fruit from the kitchens as well as a sandwich.” You reply, lowering your voice even more.

“Risky,” He murmurs.

“You’re worth it.” You reassure gently, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder, “Now, please, where is the pain the worst?”

“Chest, ribs. Vader was pissed today, don’t know why.” He groans lowly as you, as gently as possible, start unfastening his armor and setting it to the side.

“He didn’t seem any angrier than usual when I ran into him,” You reply as you carefully help him sit up to remove his back plate, and then lay him back on the mattress.

Fox grabs your wrist to stop your movements, “Ner kar’ta…You ran into Vader?” He asks, something like panic crossing his face as he scans you for any injuries, “Are you hurt?”

“No. He spoke with me, but that’s all.” You run your fingers soothingly across the top of his hand, “I’m not important enough to hurt, my love, please don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t help it,” Fox replies as the tension drains out of him, now that he’s sure that you’re uninjured, “You’re the only good thing in this place.”

I love you, he means. And you both know it. Though speaking the words out loud brings too much risk. And Fox would sooner rip his own arm off than ever say anything that would make your life more dangerous than it already is. You don’t need to hear the words to know the truth, after all.

You favor him with a tender smile, and you press your lips against the top of his hand, before you carefully set it on the bed as well. You move down his body and swiftly strip off the rest of his armor, stacking all of it neatly at the end of his bed.

“Can you remove your undershirt, Fox?” You ask as you settle next to him again, this time opening the satchel and sorting through the various ointments and potions.

“Not without help, I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay, that's why I’m here.” You lean in and slowly help him remove his shirt, revealing a patchwork of bruises, including the angry red ones from his broken ribs. You blink rapidly, to keep your tears from falling, but it doesn’t help. It never does.

His hand moves and cups your cheek, “I always seem to be making you cry, ner kar’ta.”

You sniffle, “Not you, Fox. Never you.”

His smile is slightly rueful, and it becomes a little more real as you turn your head and kiss the palm of his hand. He lowers his arm back to the bed as you start examining bottles. “Palpatine and Vader have been furious for the last couple of days,” He offers, “Have you heard anything?”

You hum thoughtfully as you pick a bottle and start applying the cool ointment to his bruises, “I have, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me anyway.” Fox replies as his voice catches when you press a little too hard against a bruise.

“Sorry,” You lighten your touch slightly, as you consider where to begin, “Palpatine caught one of the Prince’s of Mandalore and the Wizard apprentice to Mandalore.” You explain quietly, feeling Fox tense under your fingers.

“Which Prince?”

You shoot him an apologetic look, “Prince Wolffe,”

Fox closes his eyes and there’s a tremor through his body. You’re not supposed to know that Fox is one of the Prince’s of Mandalore. And you’re definitely not supposed to know that he’s Prince Wolffe’s identical twin brother.

So far as you’re aware, though, you’re the only person outside of Palpatine and Vader who know.

“What happened, ner kar’ta?”

You switch to a different bottle and pour out a small measurement into a glass, “Drink this, it’ll help the broken bones and any internal injuries,” You explain softly, lifting his head slightly so he can drink the elixir without choking, “As for what happened…well, rumor is that Lord Vader helped the little wizard escape from her bonds, and then she managed to break through the protective spells on the tower, and they escaped.”

“And my brother?”

“Alive, so far as I’m aware.”

“Good. That’s good,” Fox closes his eyes, “What else?”

“The Nations are now aware of Palpatine. And Vader.” You whisper.

Fox releases a laugh, “Oh, that’s why Palpatine is so angry. He probably took it out on Vader-” He slowly sits up and twists slightly, before releasing a sigh of relief, “That’s much better.”

“I’m not done,” You fret, your hands fluttering towards the angry looking bruises on his stomach.

He reaches out and cups your face with his hands, “When we get out of here,” Fox murmurs as he leans in and lightly presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, “I’m taking you someplace tropic, where you can lay on a beach chair and drink fruity little drinks out of coconuts.”

“Oh? And where are you while I’m getting drunk from coconuts?” You ask fondly, as you continue treating his bruises.

“I’m right there with you. We’ll spend a year doing nothing but relaxing.” Fox murmurs.

“A whole year?”

“Mm. Maybe we’ll go swimming.” He decides as he opens his eyes, “Does that sound nice to you, ner kar’ta?”

“It sounds like a dream,” You murmur, “But it sounds like a dream that I’d like to see.”

He hums quietly, and tilts your head just enough to ghost his lips against yours. He doesn’t allow himself anymore than that, just a brush of your lips against his, before he’s pulling back. “I’ll make it happen, ner kar’ta. I promise.”

You smile at him, though it’s tinged with sadness. You both know that it’s probably never going to happen. “Here,” You reach into the satchel and hand him a sandwich and a fresh fruit, “Eat. I’ll treat the rest of your bruises.”

Fox eats quickly while you finish treating the rest of his injuries, and then you sit back on your heels and slide the treatments back into your satchel.

“...you should go.” Fox murmurs.

“I don’t want to.”

“I know.” He reaches out and lightly caresses your cheek, “In an ideal world, you wouldn’t have to. But I need you to go.”

“I know.” You don’t move for a moment longer, and then you shudder, and carefully get to your feet. You gather your satchel, and make sure there’s nothing indicating that you brought Fox food, and then you lean in and kiss his forehead, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fox physically restrains himself from reaching out to touch you, knowing that if he does neither of you will want you to leave. “Be careful, ner kar’ta.”

You flash him one more smile, and then slip out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind you, and heading back to the room you share with seven other people.

The following morning begins as it normally does. You, and the other servants, are woken far, far too early to begin your prep work for the day. Food is prepped, and rooms are opened just in case Lord Palpatine has any visitors, which he never does, and then you start your normal daily upkeep.

You manage to finish the meal prep (no one can cut veggies as quickly or as uniformly as you can) and you’re about to head out to start cleaning Lord Palpatine’s trophy room (which is far, far less ominous than it sounds, thankfully) when you’re approached by two members of the Imperial Guard.

As per your norm, you move to the side, to allow them to pass…but they don’t. They stop in front of you.

“You need to come with us,” One of the identically dressed men said in monotone.

Terror grips your heart, but you obediently set your dust cloth on a counter, “Of course.”

One of the guards falls into step in front of you, and the other one right behind you, and they march you through the halls until you're standing in Lord Palpatine’s throne room.

You bow deeply towards Lord Palpatine and Lord Vader, and then you stop moving. “This is the one?” Lord Palpatine asks.

“Yes, my lord,” a different Imperial Guard says.

“Hm.” A rough hand grabs your chin and your head is jerked up so you’re looking into Palpatine’s eyes, “How long have you worked for me, girl?”

“Since Naboo, my lord.” You reply quietly, he releases you and you have to fight the urge to rub at the bruises that you’re sure are forming.

“I see.” He circles you, like a vulture, and your hands start shaking, “Have you any magic talent, girl?”

“N-no, my lord.”

“I see.” Palpatine finishes circling you and returns to his throne, something cruel crossing his face, “CC-1010.” He calls, “Come here.”

Your heart thud painfully in your chest as Fox steps out from a side room. He’s totally clad in his red and white armor, and his face his hidden from you, but you can feel his eyes on you. “You called me, sir?” he asks, his voice carefully masked by his helmet.

“Kill her.” Palpatine orders.

You take half a step back, and your eyes go wide. Fox hesitates for half a second, not so long that anyone other than you would notice, and then he steps between you and Palpatine.

His hands tremor as he pulls a hunting knife from a sheathe on his hip, and he moves closer to you, until you can feel the heat from his body. He rests the tip of the blade against the hollow of your throat, making a small nick against the thin skin there, and then lightly drags it down to rest against your sternum.

“Trust me?” He asks, his voice low enough that you barely heard him despite how close you’re standing to him.

“Always,” You breathe out in response.

And then the blade pushes home, piercing the tender flesh of your chest with little resistance. There’s blinding pain for a moment, and then there’s nothing.

*********

You wake up some time later, tired and in pain, but very much alive. You’re wrapped in bandages, and for some reason you’re outside.

You blink at the sky, twice, not sure if you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing, and then you turn your head to see if you can figure out what’s going on.

There, only a few feet away from you, Fox is sitting. His hands are shaking and he’s covered in cuts, burns, and bruises, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care, that he’s staining his armor.

“You’re bleeding,” You mumble, as you try to sit up to help him.

His head whips to the side, and a look of such relief crosses his face that you think he’s about to cry, “Hey, ner kar’ta, you need to lay still. You’re hurt really badly.”

You reach out for him, and he immediately takes your hand in his shaking one, “You’re hurt,” You repeat, your eyes scanning his face, tracing the bruises and cuts.

He presses his lips against your knuckles, “It’s no more than I deserve,” He replies, “Fuck, I stabbed you, ner kar’ta.”

“I’m still alive though,” You point out as you squeeze his hand, “And if you hadn’t one of the others would have.”

“Never should have done it,” Fox mumbles against your hand, “Should have thought of another plan.”

“Fox? How am I still alive?” You ask.

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against your hand, “I made contingencies, should Palpatine learn about us and try to use you against me.” Fox admits, his voice shaking, “When I nicked your throat with my blade, I injected a potion that put you into a stasis, so when I-when I stabbed you-” His voice breaks, and he swallows hard, “It didn’t do any damage.”

“That’s incredibly clever, my love.” You praise gently, as you stroke his hand. “What happened after?”

“I…uh…I took responsibility for disposing of your body,” Fox says quietly, “And so I took you and I ran.”

“But you’re hurt?”

“Imperial Guards,” He replies, and something grimly triumphant flickers across his face, “They won’t come after us again. Not when I killed six of Palpatine’s Imperial Guards. He won’t risk Vader against me, or himself.”

“So we’re home free?”

“Not just yet, but…” Fox runs his fingers through his curly hair, “We’ll be passing into Mandalorian territory within the next couple of days. Do you think you can sit up, ner kar’ta?”

Slowly, with Fox’s help, you sit up. Your chest twinges uncomfortably, but you’re not in active pain, which you’re sure to mention to Fox. Which does wonders to wash the guilt from his face.

He moves so his side is pressed against you, and his hands slide up to cup your face, and you close your eyes and lean into his touch, “What happens now?” You whisper, your eyes fluttering closed, as you relax against him.

“Now I take you home, introduce you to my family, and we go on a year long vacation where the only thing we have to worry about is getting you more sunblock.” Fox replies.

You smile, and slowly open your eyes, “That sounds perfect.”

“We deserve perfection, I think.” He says.

Your hands come up and you lightly cup his face, “Hey Fox,” You murmur, “Did you know that I love you?” You speak the words slowly and clearly, able to speak them outloud for the first time without having to worry about anyone hurting him.

He smiles and kisses your hands, “I love you too,” He whispers, “And no one is ever going to try and use you against me ever again.” Something dangerous glimmers in his eyes, and you believe him.

You smile at him, all warmth and love, “Good.” You whisper, and you pretend that you can’t hear the knives in your voice. No one would ever use him either. Never again. Not if you had a say in it.

His smile grows into a grin, and he leans in and kisses you, properly, for the first time, his hands sliding around and burying in your hair as he holds you like he’s wanted to for ages.

And you, thrilled to no longer have to hide in dim corridors and rooms that smell of iron and pain, press yourself as close to him as possible. This was all you’ve ever wanted in your life, and now that you have it, you’re going to hold it as tight as you can.

#star wars #tcw #Commander Fox x Reader #Fox x reader #x reader fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars au

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