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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

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I feel, and it sucks

Pairings | Damon Salvatore x reader. Eric Northman x reader

Summary | after moving away from Mystic Falls, you finally return, and Damon is prepared to see you again. The only problem is, that you aren’t alone...

Warnings | includes angst, mentions of a breakup, sorta lead up to smut and mentions of it, blood play/kink, tiny bit of violence

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

He cared not for the lack of logic that ran through his mind. Not as he went towards your home, you had returned from your year long departure. Mystic Falls had been left in your rear view as you went to a place called Bon Temps.

As much as Damon wished to chase after you, he’d have crawled if he could, he respected your desire to leave everything behind, and move on. And that included him, the man that you had loved, and the one that was profusely enamoured in you.

But now, he had the opportunity to whisk you back into his immortal embrace, and forever be by your side, to protect you, and spend every waking moment with you. Stefan would call him sappy for his advances, but his brother’s opinion simply did not matter. He was so close to being happy again, and he couldn’t deny he was reeled in by the prospect.

Damon was eager to make you pancakes every morning, waking you up with the aroma of breakfast on a tray that he greeted you with in bed. Or even the simple excitement of watching your various expressions whilst reading twilight; ugh, he hated that book, but he would willingly endure its presence if that meant he could become wrapped up in you once more.

But he had to see you first, and get past that progression again. Whilst you had been gone, and in that other town, he had become lost. No amount of bourbon drinking, or hanging out with Ric, could fix his settled mood. He felt like a sinking stone, drowning in the deep end, and remaining on the bottom of the bed, until he was washed away, back to shore.

And your return had done just that; grounded him. He wouldn’t feign to admit his immediate reaction when he first found out you were to come back to your original home. First, he had been in utter disbelief, hardly taking Bonnie’s statement seriously when she informed him of the ordeal.

But then, she showed him the messages that had transacted between the pair of you, and how you were eager to see her again. Nothing of him was mentioned in the conversation, although he was sure that the witch and you had spoken over call sometime after your surprise reveal.

The lack of voicing of your prior breakup gave him some hope; you were willing to take him back. And that was a possibility that he safely held onto, finding it to be a net for him to fall down onto. However, the prospect of a net was like that of a rocking boat, it had an inability stay still when it held a weight, and that mass of pounds was him.

And he knew, as you left, the thought of you had attempted to pull you back, and force you to stay with the selfish power. But as the past had played out, you had not let it, and so you left him all alone, in the claws of the Grill, which was somewhere he found himself to be often in general, but more so after your transcending departure.

The curtains to your room swayed with the evening wind, and he found himself to be enticed by the sight of the open window. It hadn’t been an unusual occurrence for him to climb through the ajar square, and talk about your day, and thus, make it better by his simple appearance.

But, he was deceived. What a fool he had been to think that you had not moved on from little old him, for there was a tall legged man over the top of you, both of your chests bare, and your mouth viscously devouring the inclination of the others. You were oblivious to his accidentally snooping presence, too distracted by the estranged blonde that was now teasing his lips down your throat.

The sight had him freeze, but he was incapable of interrupting whence he watched the man’s teeth sink into the parting of the bottom of your neck and your warm shoulder. It was no man, instead, he was much like him; a vampire. There was a ample difference though, he would never hurt you.

To Damon, you were a treasure, not an edible treat. And it sparked a pulse of fear through his entirety as he watched you be drained by this vile creature. Perhaps he were a hypocrite, he had done the same to many people countless times, and still continued to do so. But the food was not being extracted by anyone, it was being pulled from your veins, and making its way into this stranger’s awaiting mouth.

You shut up as something, a familiar blur, came crashing against Eric, sending his form flying off from your own, the intruder and him ending up on the floor. To cover up and show some surprised decency, you pulled the sheet upon yourself, stretching your red printed neck to view the scene below.

Eric was recomposing himself, shooting immortal daggers towards the reckless, who was... “Damon?” Seeing him once more was inevitable, but the scene of it was a dread of yours. And here he was, in your bedroom, the circumstances with much difference than from what they used to be.

At the sound of his name, both the strapping vampires turned towards you with fixed frowns, both worn for their own reasonable purposes. Damon was studying you, and understanding the scene, now seeing that you had been open to the removal of your blood, and this stranger was with you in some kind of way that he was not a fan of.

And Eric’s, well, it was a combined factor of fury, that was directed at the raven haired and uninvited visitor, and confusion, as he attempted to put together pieces of the puzzle that he was missing. He presumed correctly that the two of you had previously known each other, and thus, his intrusion could be explained, or so he hoped.

There was a longing wrenching in his dead gut, that there was something more than a friendship between you and this Damon. He was far too well adversed with the tell of history, that the looks the pair of you were silently exchanging were anything but friendly.

From the get go, there was a smouldering charm that reflected out of Damon’s blue eyes, and your own showed a conflict of interests. But nevertheless, you straightened your back up against the headboard of the bed, and questioned him. “What are you doing here?”

The interrogative underlining to your voice stung like a bee, but the younger of the two vampires refrained from wincing. That would only show a weakness towards the new vamp in town, and that was not the aim of his game.

“Bonnie told me that you were back.” He thought it would be a simple and trouble free resolution, however, the other immortal presence in the room now told him otherwise. “And I thought this guy here was going to drain you dry? What’d you expect me to do, let some stranger kill you before I even have a chance to see you?!”

A prominent eye roll swayed from your foresight, and you cast a look to the other guy, as though you were talking silently with the newcomer. “He’s not a stranger, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Eric Northman.” He extended his hand frankly to your previous partner, attempting to draw a hateful truce between them. But instead, Damon whence he took the offer, attempted to squeeze the bejesus out of ‘Eric’s’ hand, which only ended in the result of his own bones being crushed.

That much informed him that this Northman was older, and that information alone served as a factual repercussion of him in turn being more powerful. This vampire wasn’t one to mess with, but who knew what he would do, after all, he was Damon Salvatore.

“Damon Salvatore.” He begrudgingly spoke through his clenched teeth, taking his broken and healing back into the safety of his side. “So, the boyfriend. Y/n, I thought you were done with relationships, more specifically, with vampires.”

“You sound like Caroline, bitching about my relationship choices. And the only sense that she spoke to me was to get out of this town and-“

“Shag another one of me.” He quirked his brow, and Eric breathed heavily. One thing he had picked up on, was that he didn’t like the way that this vampire was speaking to you. He was making digs, and making contradictions to all of your past statements. “I believe you even said that I would be the last one, and that isn’t in the same context. You wanted to spend forever with me y/n, not someone like this.”

“Listen here.” Eric hissed, prowling half naked towards Damon, his fangs slipping out from beneath his top lip. “I can see what’s happening here, you want her back. But it appears that she has moved on, so that is something that you’re going to have to suck up.”

“Suck up.” Damon childishly snorted, finding the pun hilarious in his state of mixed delirium. He felt everything, a sense of urgency to win you back, and great pain that was sinking into his age old skeleton. “I feel, and it sucks. But it’s fine, completely fine.” He waved his hand off, staring past the slim brute and finding a painful solace in staring at you. “No, he’s allowed to suck your blood, and what, you suck his dick in return?”

A shove sent him flying into the furthest wall, Eric holding him against it. “She’s mine.” It was a common description of a companionship between human and vampire. He had thought Sookie and Bill’s bond had been a foolish one, however, he met you, and his whole perception changed.

There was something about the collaboration of weakness and strength that worked so perfectly together. It was a true love, in rare occurrences . But the sheriff could feel that the myth was blooming in his own consideration. And he would not allow a young (in comparison to him), selfish specimen of his kind, ruin his chance at keeping that peace.

“She’ll never let you turn her.” Damon gulped, trying to look over the giant’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of you, whom was avidly watching the scene. “If you want forever with her, it will only last a minute, and it’ll kill you when she goes, because if you really love her, then I know it would to me too. She deserves to see the world in all her short life, to be treated like a queen, because she is one.”

Damon gulped, feeling guilty, knowing that as much as he wanted to give you that all, he couldn’t. He would not leave Mystic Falls, and that was what had ended your run in the end. His first priority, as admirable as that was, was to always shadow Stefan, and look out for his little brother.

But that gave him no life, which was exactly what you wanted with him. It didn’t matter if you were to one day become pruned and shrunken, the moment that you lived in was all you wanted. There were memorable tears held in your eyes, but you refused to allow a single one slip.

“Y/n has already agreed that one day, she will go through the change, for me.” Biting your lip, you could only imagine the dispersed appearance that struck Damon’s face. He had wanted forever with you, and instead, you had given it to someone else.

Slinking out from the shirtless man’s grip, Damon cautiously pushed Eric’s hands off him, walking to the window, and casting you a cold look. “I hope you enjoy forever y/n.”

And with that, he was gone in the night, presumably fleeing to annoy Matt until he drank half the bar. And thus, he was the one this time that departed instead, abandoning you, and leaving you in Eric’s claim.

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writing-gifts · 4 years ago

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here’s the 6th part of the incubus!doppio AU!

im gonna start posting this on ao3 too (with some editing in the earlier chapters so you can check that out if you wanna)

list of parts

@wasabi-mommy @mistabrainr0t @the-average-mastermind

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“OW! What the hell--why’d you bite me so hard for!?”

You try to move your leg but Mutton blocks your way. Letting out a sigh, you stand in place and look down at the cat.

“What? What is the problem?”

He moves behind you and presses his head against the back of your calf hard enough to affect your balance. When you move your leg forward to stop yourself from falling, Mutton walks towards the door.

“Do you want me to let you out? But you just got here.”

The cat looks at you for a moment before placing his front paws on the door and stretching upward towards the knob.

Shaking your head, you walk over to the door. “I’m gonna get that cat door for you one day, I swear.”

Once it’s open, Mutton quickly circles your legs and pushes his head against them like before.

“Okay, okay I’m going!”

You walk out and the feline takes a few steps towards the forest ahead before turning to look back. His multicolored eyes stay locked on yours and you purse your lips when you realize what he wants.

“I guess I'm following you….”

After locking and closing the door, you walk after the cat as he continues into the forest. You wonder what exactly he’s so desperate to show you. Was this even normal behavior for cats? You weren't sure but you did know that Mutton was a little more on the intelligent side. Sometimes you even felt like he could even understand you.

So you go along with it, following a distance behind through what seems like endless trees and brush and fanning random insects out of your face. Fortunately, the weather was cool enough that you weren't sweating too.

However, the longer you walk, the more you fear that you might be lost. Trying to find your way back on your own would definitely make it worse though.

Just when you think you need to take a break, a body of water appears in the distance through the opening of the trees. When you and Mutton finally exit the packed foliage, you see that you’ve been led to a lake sitting in a giant clearing in the forest.

You stare a bit amazed at the size and notice a cabin near it a distance away. Mutton doesn't stop long to let you marvel at the scene though and continues towards the lake. You catch up to him and the both of you walk alongside the water.

“So do you know the person in the cabin?” You assume that’s where you're headed.

You didn’t expect a response, but Mutton merps to acknowledge you. You hum and your gaze quickly finds itself back on the lake. It was vast, going on so far you could barely see where it ended. The sky and trees reflect on its surface clearly and the water’s so still you almost feel like you can jump into the clouds if you want to.

Once the two of you are closer, you see that the brick and wood cabin was partially sitting on the grassy land behind it and partially on the water. You had also underestimated the size. Perhaps more than one person lived here?

Mutton leads you around the side of the house and stops to sit next to the front door. He looks up at you expectedly so you reach out to knock.

Several seconds pass before you hear the door being unlocked and when it opens, a handsome man with a neat, dark bob is revealed.

Unsure of what to do, you give a quick greeting and go quiet afterward. You didn't plan what to say when the door was answered, you just knew Mutton wanted you to knock.

Said cat walks into view, rubbing against the man’s leg as he walks into the house.

At that moment, realization seems to cross the man's face and he smiles at you.

“You must be the neighbor,” he says.

“Neighbor?”

“The person who lives in the house outside the forest. I saw someone moved in but never came around to introduce myself.”

"Oh, I had no idea anyone lived out here."

"That’s pretty much the reason why I’m out here.” The man moves to make room so you can walk inside. “Would you like to come in?"

You're a little hesitant since you just met but Mutton had no issue with it apparently. And the cat had actively been prepared to attack Diavolo for you on multiple occasions.

The moment you pass the threshold, you’re instantly awed. When you thought of cabins, simple and small came to mind. This one was neatly organized but it didn't give the homely vibe you’d expect.

The monochromatic room was spacious and decorated with nice looking furniture and curtains. The living area consisted of a fireplace surrounded by comfortable looking couches, and the stone wall above it held shelves that were crammed full of old looking books, various expensive looking decor and bottles. And to the right, closer to the back of the room sat a sizable dining set.

However what mostly grabs your eye is the fish tanks that were embedded in the walls throughout the room. At first you wonder why he had so many, but when you look closer you realize that they were not, in fact, separate tanks but a giant aquarium partially hidden within the walls.

Was the whole house like this? What type of cabin was this?

While you wonder where all the fish are, something twinkles in the corner of your eye. You turn to see what it is, but there’s nothing there.

So I'm imagining things now...

“--drink?”

You turn your attention to the man. "Sorry what was that?"

“I asked if you wanted anything to drink?”

You cross your arms and shake your head. “No I’m good…so do you know why Mutton led me here?”

The cat currently sits on the top of the back of one of the white couches.

“I actually needed to discuss something important with you, but I should introduce myself first. I'm Bruno Bucciarati--you can refer to me as either--and I'm a witch.”

You’re immediately skeptical. It wasn't unheard of, obviously, but you couldn't just believe whatever anyone told you. Bruno doesn’t look bothered by your dubiousness though.

“You're smart enough to not trust blindly. That’s good.” The man puts a finger to his chin. “You have a leaf on your shoulder.”

Before you can reach up to brush it off the man plucks it off you. Then just as quickly as he picked it off, the small green leaf begins to glow and transforms into a full flower.

You stare shocked trying to find any way to explain what you just saw. It was no trick of the eye either as the leaf’s form changed right before you into a completely different thing.

The man--no witch holds out the white rose and you gently take it.

“I--wow I just keep running into supernatural beings or something.”

"This forest does seem to attract them," he says.

Interesting…

You roll the flower stem between your fingers. “I’m ____ by the way.Uh, I don't know if you call him Mutton too--" You tilt your head in the direction of the feline. “--but is he your familiar or something?”

“No, he’s just a cat that likes to wander the forest. However, my familiar's over there though if you’re interested."

You get closer to the tank the witch pointed out to observe and even though you weren't exactly showing it, you were actually really excited and interested by the fact that you just met a witch.

At first you don't see anything in the huge tank other than greenery and a rocky cave ornament in the corner. But then something pops its head out of the opening. An eel that also managed to match the color scheme of the room. It was mostly white and covered in black patterns with yellow sprinkled in. It comes out of its hiding spot and swims back and forth as if it were stretching out it’s long body. Then it turns to you when it realizes that you're intently watching through the glass.

Your smile at it’s somewhat funny face and tilt your head a bit. The eel responds by tilting its own head, as if curious by your action.

"Holy crap. This is actually pretty cool! Do they talk?" you ask.

“Not really.” Bruno's smile falters. “But surprisingly Mutton does.”

“Huh?” You snicker a bit thinking the witch is joking but see that there’s no sign that he is on his face.

You look over at the cat and he stares back unblinking before glancing at Bruno.

"....I thought we weren't going to tell them."

Your heart almost jumps into your throat. “W-What?”

Bruno hums. “I thought about it and decided there's no point keeping it secret any longer. The incubus already knows. So it would only be a matter of time before he said something."

You're still reeling from Mutton talking that you almost missed what Bruno said.

“Hold on...Wait. Incubus? Are you talking about Doppio?” you ask the witch.

“Yes.”

You squint confused. “He knew and he didn't say anything? How long ago did he find out?"

"About a week," Mutton says.

"It might have benefited him in some way but I'm not sure why he didn't say anything," Bruno adds.

You exhale, somehow already on the verge of irritation with...everyone. Doppio was usually open with you, but apparently he thought this was a good thing not to mention.

You stare at Mutton who looks at you like he usually did, as if this weren’t an issue. But that was far from the case for you. It wasn't explicitly said but you were sure he told Bruno things about you, and it left you disturbed.

“...Well is there anything else I should know about Mutton?”

"Well his name's not actually Mutton," Bruno says.

"It's Leone Abbacchio, but you can call me Abbacchio."

You grimace from the human sounding voice coming from the cat you had been cuddling practically since...since you moved here!

“Okay Abbacchio, I don't really want you snooping around my house anymore--

“That can be arranged,” Bruno interrupts. “Once we ‘exorcise’ that demon constantly visiting you.”

Your already furrowed brow deepens. Doppio wasn't possessing anything though. You weren't even sure he was capable of that.

“No, I don't want that!”

"Listen, it might seem like Doppio is harmless, but things can become dangerous if he grows too serious of an attachment to you. And if it makes you feel better, we won’t need to hurt him if he leaves quietly."

You weren't exactly sure what the witch meant by "dangerous" but his serious tone managed to spark some anxiety within you.

"I mean it would be natural for Doppio to get upset if I suddenly wanted him gone."

"He's not just talking about being upset." Abbacchio says, annoyance in his tone. "Doppio could literally keep you against your will if he wanted and there would be no way for Bruno to reverse it."

"All demons are naturally envious creatures and the way things are going between you two, it’s only a matter of time. And this doesn't even take into account the other demon." Bruno says.

Diavolo aside, you couldn't bring yourself to see Doppio in that light.

"But--"

The front door slams open and the temperature in the room seems to drop.

Doppio stomps in, his face flushed. Once he sees you he seems to relax slightly but his expression is still irate.

“I finally found you!” he exclaims.

Bruno raises a brow and turns to Abbacchio.

The cat's ears fold back in frustration. "I was sure I lost him."

The incubus walks up to you, stopping too close and grabbing your shoulders harshly. “Are you okay?”

“Doppio you're gripping me too tightly.” You push off his hands and wrap your arms around yourself to shield your body from the sudden chill that seemed to appear. “I’m fine….But they're talking about you being able to keep me? What does that exactly mean?”

You wanted to hear an explanation from the incubus himself. You trusted him not to lie to your face if you asked him straight on.

However, Doppio reacts strangely, as if he's afraid. He makes some space between the two of you and struggles to look at you. You try to catch his gaze again but he refuses to keep eye contact.

"It's…" He strains his fingers. "Well, you see, incubi and succubi can form a….c-connection with a weaker being if they’re close enough. Then they could technically stay together forever."

Abbacchio grunts, "Way to sugar coat it--"

“I wouldn’t do that to you though ____! I didn't even consider it! U-Unless you wanted to it would never happen and I know that you like your space…”

The incubus is the most stressed you've seen him.

Even though you were still upset you didn't like seeing him like this, so in an attempt to ease him, you try to smile. Unfortunately, it comes off pretty strained.

You take a moment to mull over what he said though and come to a conclusion pretty quickly. "Even though that was kind of vague...I think I understand. And honestly, I can't see you forcing me into that."

You'd never seen a cat roll their eyes until now.

"Typical human. They're a lost cause Bruno. Let's leave them to do what they want," Abbacchio says before stretching and laying down.

The witch looks disapprovingly at the cat. "You know I can't do that. Perhaps they actually were charmed. I could--"

"Sir," you say to get his attention. "I appreciate your concern, but I trust Doppio and I'd prefer if you didn't get in between the two of us."

Having to tell your almost neighbor you just met to buzz off even in a polite way wasn't what you were expecting to do today.

Bruno doesn’t look upset though. He's quiet, studying you with an unreadable expression but then he nods.

"I'm having Leone check up on you. If anything seems off I'm getting involved."

Your brows furrow slightly. Didn't you just explicitly say you didn't want Abbacchio snooping around your home anymore?

You want to argue more but the witch didn't leave room in his statement to negotiate. And even though you hate to admit it, keeping the supernatural out of your home wasn't exactly your strong suit. It pissed you off but you couldnt do anything about it. So you give a curt nod and immediately walk to the exit with Doppio following closely behind.

Once outside, you follow the incubus through the forest. There's a long, awkward stretch of silence between you two though.

Doppio tries to sneakily glance at you, which you of course you notice but you choose to ignore it. However, after the 50th one he finally decides to say something.

"____?"

You sigh, "What?"

He slows to a stop to turn and look at you properly but, again, he has trouble keeping eye contact.

"Are you mad?"

Maybe at first but now it had changed to more of a disappointed feeling.

"Not necessarily but you knew about Mutt--Abbacchio and didn't say anything to me. So I'm not exactly happy right now."

"I didn't but--"

You shake your head. "No Doppio. I'm too tired right now to understand whatever weird logic you formed in your head."

His mouth closes and the hurt on his face instantly makes you regret your choice of words. Maybe you shouldn't have said it like that but you really didn't feel like listening to excuses right now.

You look away from Doppio. "Let's just go, please."

#incubus!doppio #vinegar doppio x reader #doppio x reader #reader insert #jjba x reader #if you're wondering what type of eel it is its a snowflake eel #anyways yEP #if you wanna be added to the tag list you can ask in the replies or message me whichever you want #i still need a title for ao3

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tothemeadow · 4 years ago

Text

Kinktober day 6 scenario for 6 eyed daddy Kokushibou? :) gender neutral or fem reader, your choice 💕

Day 6: angry/hate fucking / hair pulling / biting

warnings: NSFW, scratching, possessive/jealous behaviors, semi-public sex, creampie

words: 1,451

(a/n): art is not mine

Kokushibou’s always been the jealous type.

His icy, stoic expression usually says the opposite, and his mysterious personality often leads others to believe all the wrong things about him. Nothing can bother him. Nobody can affect him. He simply follows Muzan’s orders and acts as the perfect guard dog.

Oh, but how wrong they are.

He’s never liked the relationships you have with the other demons. Dare he say it, but it’s almost like you’ve made friends. In this world, being a demon and being friendly with others simply does not work out. If you’re friendly with others, you die. That’s just the way it works.

He’s never liked the way Douma practically hangs from you whenever you two are together, his arms around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck. You constantly roll your eyes, yes, but Kokushibou can tell that you’re secretly thriving at all the attention. Even Akaza has taken a liking towards you, and that in itself says a lot.

He knows he’s acting obsessive. Selfish. After all, the only thing he wants is to rip you away from the others and have you all to himself. He hasn’t felt this strongly for anyone in years. It’s a miracle he even knows what affectionate feelings are anymore. He guesses new tricks can be taught to old dogs after all. It’s only slightly ridiculous, falling for someone like you, but he doesn’t mind it as much as he should. You’re colleagues, nothing more. But he craves for something more.

The jealousy worsens whenever Muzan is around. Even his lord’s eyes linger on your form, a spark of interest glistening in his blood colored eyes. It makes Kokushibou sick to the stomach.

Maybe he should count his blessings. You talk to him, much like you talk to the others, but you’re typically a lot less hostile towards him. You catch his eyes across the room, offer him tiny smiles. If he didn’t know better, than he’d think you were still a lowly human. Gentle feelings and being carnivorous beasts do not mix well.

It’s a brightly lit night when his dreams come true.

He should consider himself a pervert with the way he stares at your exposed neck, the little stripe of leg showing through the seam of your yukata. It’s a rare occasion whenever he seeks out your manor, wishing to be in your company. Like Douma, mindless humans do everything at your beck and call. It must be nice to be a bloodthirsty siren, having attention on you always and delectable meals on hand.

“Kokushibou-dono,” you murmur into the night’s wind.

Turning to you, all six of his eyes narrow. Your skin looks absolutely delicious under the moon, the bluish hue doing wonders for the twinkle in your eyes. He’s aware of how tense he is. He doesn’t doubt for a second that you notice it as well.

He doesn’t know who’s the first to make a move. His mind reels to catch up with the fact that your lips are finally against his, your clawed fingers digging into his scalp and yanking at the strands of his hair. He moans throatily at your touch; he’s shameless as he touches your body, his hands slipping your yukata loose. Another moan goes swallowed by you as he realizes your body is completely bare underneath.

You claw at his neck and shoulders, restless in your movements as you practically tear his clothes into pieces. Heavy breaths echo into the night, but neither of you care. You can’t be bothered by the fact that anyone could step outside and see the two of you in such an intimate embrace on the engawa.

Tearing his hair loose from his ponytail, you straddle his lap. Your hands trail down his abdomen, tracing the divots of his abs and the sharp lines of his pectorals. You’re absolutely hot to the touch; Kokushibou’s mind swims, ragged moans leave his lips. He doesn’t remember being this vocal in his entire life. He doesn’t care, though, not when you’re grinding against him like that.

Soon enough, he has you on your back, your legs propped on his shoulders. Throwing your head back, you let out the most sinful moan that’s ever graced his ears. Kokushibou takes the chance to mouth at your neck, his lips and tongue running over your pounding vein. He can’t stop the thoughts from coming; has Douma seen you like this? Akaza? Muzan? He growls at the mere idea of others having you pinned beneath them, kissing your lips, and touching you in the most intimate parts.

His teeth sink into your skin without another thought. You cry out, your back arching into him. Kokushibou’s fingers grip onto your hair, yank your head back to show him more skin. He’s merciless with his markings, each puncture of the skin making blood spurt into his mouth.

His cock dips inside you, causing you to scream at the intrusion. Your velvety walls immediately clench onto him, making him grunt into your neck. You’re so tight. Moaning into your neck, he inches his cock inside you; your walls convulse around him, eagerly suck him in further. Was it the same for when the others fucked you? It had to be the only reason why they were so intrigued by you. Like Kokushibou, they had to be utterly obsessed with you.

A monstrous growl rips itself from his throat as he sets a harsh pace. You have no choice but to take it; you moan like a bitch in heat, the claws of your nails scratching his shoulder blades. Kokushibou fucks into you cruelly, the snap of his hipbones sharp against your thighs.

“Do the others get to see you like this?” Kokushibou snarls. “Do the others get to fuck you like this? Do you moan like a bitch for them, too?”

“It’s funny that you’re jealous,” you huff. You scratch even harder at his skin, drawing blood. “Fuck me like you mean it and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Kokushibou snaps his teeth at you. Redoubling his efforts, he thrusts into you faster, harder. You clench around him, buck your hips in an attempt to match his pace. His hold on you is an iron grip; he refuses to let you slide away from him, even if your back burns from the friction. You’re his for the taking and he’s not letting you get away.

“Fuck, Kokushibou-dono,” you groan. “Your cock – shit – it fucks me so good. More. Give me more.”

Kokushibou fucks into you like a rabid animal. “Scream my name,” he grits. “Let everyone know who you belong to.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes into the night. It’s obscenely loud; for a moment, Kokushibou wonders why nobody has ventured outside to see what all the commotion’s about, but he figures it has something to do with your blood art. You keen and cry out his name; in the moonlight, he can see tears running down your cheeks. Pride swells in his chest, licks at his heart with its flame. He’s the reason behind your blinding pleasure. Nobody else can make you feel this way.

“Kokushibou, Kokushibou,” you chant. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! There, there! Fuck, I’m so close-“

Once more, Kokushibou finds your mouth. The kiss is wild, full of raw passion. Your tongues slide messily against each other, teeth clinking, but you don’t care. It’s so fucking hot and messy and-

With a high-pitched cry, you’re cumming. Your walls squeeze even tighter around him and leave him as a panting mess. Kokushibou fucks you through your orgasm, his fingers violently rubbing your sex.

“Cum in me,” you tell him. “I swear to everything high and mighty, fucking do it.”

You’ve just granted his greatest wish with those words. After a couple of well-aimed thrusts, Kokushibou pushes himself over the edge, a ragged groan breaking from the depths of his chest. Hot fluids fill your insides as his cock twitches inside you. He continues his movements, filling you with his cum and pushing it further in you.

You’re shaking violently by the time he finally pulls out. Your puffy hole leaks with his cum, streams of white traveling down your asscheeks. Kokushibou’s eyes follow the trail and his tongue darts out, sweeping across his lips. Blood and bitemarks cover your neck, all beautifully red and beginning to swell. The both of you know you can seal the marks with ease, but the fact that you choose not to stirs something deep within Kokushibou’s chest.

“You’re mine,” he growls. “You got it? No fucking around with the others.”

You throw him a foxy smile. “Whatever you say, Kokushibou-dono.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kokushibou x reader #kny kokushibou #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #tothemeadow's kinktober

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biggest-g · 3 years ago

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I would say everything's falling apart, but from the looks of things, they have been for a long time. And I've never been in the know. It's not because I was ignoring any conflict. Information was actively being kept from me.

I think what people fear too much is confrontation.

What people don't realize is how willing people are to listen and adapt. It takes a very, very evil soul to harbor hate for the sake of bullying others. One can act in a way that makes someone else uncomfortable or dislike them, but their intention is usually not to do so.

I think that people are more willing to change then you might think. You just need to directly confront them about your issue with them. If they don't change despite your confrontation, then it's reasonable to distance from them.

Some people might think it's a victory to completely separate from the other side without any form of confrontation at all. That only tears more things apart. You say you get satisfaction from letting them brew in the knowledge that they were the ones in the wrong. The problem is, they have no idea what the issue is, and what they are meant to be brewing on.

I can understand why you would want to distance yourself from someone and not interact with them.

But these sentiments were handled was so incredibly poorly.

In this particular situation there were so many things that contributed to this outcome.

One: No one confronted the person who they had gripes with, and those gripes are what turned into this hatred.

Two: Hatred compiled, and no one sought resolve it at all with the recipient, basically guaranteeing that it would all climax in one event. In this case, practically overnight. And the thing is, the only people it really impacted were the ones who had no idea what was going on.

Three: Everything relating to the conflict was being actively kept from anyone who wasn't directly involved, without any awareness of the impact this has on them. Because it is being actively kept from them, they are left to reel the the result of such a split without any warning.

For me, it makes it feel like I'm not close enough to be confided in, that this tension has to be kept from me because I'm a risk. I'm still coming to terms with the fact a whole seperate server consisting of many of people I'm close to existed seperate from me. Not only that, all the members actively hid it from me until the conflict finally erupted.

I really did miss being with some of those people, talking with them, hanging out. We hadn't even shared a server together in so long.

But this is not how I wanted to have a reunion

It all exploded overnight. It shouldn't of just exploded overnight.

I've never been in a situation like this where people who once seemed so close now harbor intense hatred for each other.

So I'm trying to analyze what I'm feeling right now. Partially betrayal, that nobody thought about the impact it would have on other people involved, on me. How all these factors contributed to it being resolved so poorly. How it's not actually resolved yet. How nobody wanted to give me, someone deeply connected with everyone involved, an inkling about what's going on. How I was actively prevented from learning about the tension even when I asked about it. How that makes me feel like I'm personally not close enough to be confided in. How I can't trust people anymore to have my best interests in mind. How it seems like people think they can't trust me.

But the main thing I'm feeling, I think, is disappointment. Sadness. That this is the way things are happening, ending, coming to light. The fact that I was isolated just by association. The way I can see how this brewed up and how many ways things weren't handled well. How there were infinitly better ways to resolve this. How I feel like I can't trust anyone.

Its hard to get all my thoughts across clearly and coherently, but I think this was therapeutic for me

I find posting here easier then blaming anyone directly

...

I guess now the question is where I'm going to sit at lunch

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stitch1830 · 3 years ago

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Steps

Hello! Happy Kantoph Mondangst! Down to the wire (once again), but I still hope you enjoy! :)

......

Apparently, Toph screamed for him immediately after. Apparently, she nearly threw herself over the edge of a ledge without thinking of the consequences; luckily, Zuko was there just in time to grab her. Apparently, she cried in his and Katara’s arms, begging for Kanto to come back.

She honestly didn’t remember any of that.

Katara remembered. She remembered every syllable that Toph cried out for Kanto, the way she clawed the soil trying to escape from Zuko’s arms, and the look of pain and desperation on her husband’s face as he restrained their friend. It wasn’t like Katara to be so speechless at a time like that, but all she could do was fall down on her knees and hold onto Toph’s forearm as the three of them cried together, all for different reasons.

Eventually the rest of the group found them, and they took refuge in a cave not far from where Toph met Kanto, and they rested before leaving. There really wasn’t much else they were able to handle at that moment, but they knew that sleep was the best remedy before they left.

Despite the fact that exhaustion plagued her, Katara couldn’t fall asleep. Perhaps it was the rough ground and it being years since she slept in such rough conditions, or maybe it was the fact that her mind was still reeling from the events that transpired earlier in the day. Whatever the reason, she got up and walked to the edge of the cave to hopefully catch a glimpse of the night’s sky. Likely a fruitless attempt, but she still yearned to feel the moon’s rays on her skin and to breathe in fresh air.

She got none of that by exiting the cave, but Katara saw that she wasn’t alone. The waterbender called out quietly, “You should be resting.”

Toph sat on some uprooted earth of her own construction and weakly waved her hand. “I can’t sleep.”

The platform of earth was long enough for two, and Katara sat down next to her friend without further thought. They sat there for a while, quietly breathing in the muggy air in the Swamp while they both recalled the day’s events individually. Katara thought of the way that Toph’s eyes were wide with shock and anguish when Kanto’s spirit left. She thought of how Zuko held her waist and buried his face in her back, torn at the thought that his restraint was hurting her, but not daring to let go for a second. And she thought—

“Did you see him?”

Katara looked at Toph. She seemed calm, her face still splotchy from emotion and crying, but calm. Her eyes weren’t wild and desperate, they were clear and focused, as if Katara’s voice would keep her firmly planted on solid ground. The waterbender swallowed thickly, trying to find her voice, then answered, “Yes.”

Toph’s nose scrunched up, as if she was frustrated with the answer. But she further probed her friend. “What—what did he look like?”

A lump formed in Katara’s throat, because even though it had nearly been two years since Kanto died, Katara missed him too. She saw the figure of her dear friend once again, and chills ran down her spine just at the recollection.

Katara let out a tired sigh and closed her eyes, trying to focus on what he looked like to describe it to Toph. “He… He kind of looked like how the wind feels. Like, it’s there, but not really.

“Kanto wasn’t smiling or anything because he was leaving, and he never took his eyes off of you. I only saw him for a moment, but he ignored everything else except you.”

“Did he look the same otherwise?” Toph asked.

“From what I could tell, yes. Same hair, his height and build was the same as he was aliv—the same as before, and he had the same look of concern he had whenever he worried about you.”

Toph breathed out a laugh and replied quietly, “He always did worry about the littlest things.”

Katara chuckled weakly and grabbed her friend’s hand. “You were never a ‘little thing’ to him. You were his world, you know. You and Lin.”

She didn’t respond, but Toph continued to hold Katara’s hand and her eyes and gaze fell into a fog. The waterbender watched her wearily as they sat in silence, and took note of the stillness of her friend. Even Toph’s breaths were stiller than the humid air, just barely noticeable to Katara. And when it came clear that Toph wasn’t interested in responding to that particular comment, Katara looked up toward the sky, hoping to see a sliver of the moon.

Her thoughts were interrupted once again by Toph. “It’s unfair.”

Katara sighed quietly and rubbed Toph’s hand with her thumb. “I know it is. But we’re here to—”

“It’s unfair that you all can… that you all have memories of Kanto that are images. You can pick up pictures and see him. I… I can’t do that.”

Katara’s heart ached as she listened, and Toph lowered her head as she continued, “I never really thought I was missing much when it came to seeing someone until he died. I saw him better than anyone. I could feel his heart, I often knew where he was, I knew his voice and laugh like it was my own, and I memorized every smile line on his face.

“But now that he’s gone, I don’t see any of that. And I’m not good with words, so I can’t even describe him to Lin. You guys can see him and recall everything about him with others easily, and you can show Lin pictures. But... I knew Kanto in such a different way.”

Toph sniffled and wiped her eyes hastily with her free hand. “I was so close to feeling him again, it was like some sick, twisted joke. Like the universe was taunting me, telling me that I can be so close to him that I can almost smell him, but just as I reach for him, he’s gone.”

Katara removed her hand from Toph’s so that she could pull her in close. As Katara rubbed soothing circles on Toph’s back, Toph sighed heavily and leaned her head on Katara’s shoulder.

It really was a sick joke. And yet, a true blessing that Toph could recall Kanto’s voice and heart and footsteps from her years of knowing him and memorizing his mark on the world. But memories fade, and she had no way of regaining and rebuilding them. They were as complete as they were going to be, and as time moved on, they would fade away. Like most footprints on the earth, time erased them.

“I just don’t want to forget him,” Toph whispered. “I don’t want anyone to forget him. He deserves that much.”

“He won’t be forgotten,” Katara promised. “We’ll do whatever it takes.”

“How?” she asked bitterly. “I can barely talk about him.”

“Well, despite the fact that today was really difficult, I think progress was made.” When Toph didn’t respond, Katara added, “This was the first time since his funeral that you said his name.

“It might be too soon, but I think maybe it’s time to go through his things. While we have momentum, you know?”

Toph said nothing, but took a deep breath. She did not admit it that night, but Katara was right. Saying goodbye to Kanto was cathartic, even if it was the hardest thing she had to do in recent years. It was a tiny step toward closure, but a step nonetheless.

And for once, Toph felt a flicker of hope when she thought of him.

#kantoph #toph #toph beifong #kanto #atla #lok #writing #kantoph mondangst #the long winding road to you #the chief and dep series #like a boomerang i always come back to you series #not as angsty as the others ope but hopefully still a twinge of angst #might be time to move into different stories for mondangst 0-0

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shimmershae · 3 years ago

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Some, okay a lot, of pre-mid season (tri? season) finale thoughts. As if you actually asked for them, lol.

And no, I haven’t actually watched the last episode yet. I’ve been putting it off all morning. For reasons. Reasons that I felt the inexplicable need to put on paper, er, screen.

If you care at all to read the purging of my fatigued TWD fangirl mind, please look beneath the cut. Fair warning. It’s long so pull up a chair maybe, lol.

I’ll admit it. The spoilers indicating a significant lack of Carol/Melissa content has dampened much of my enthusiasm and there wasn’t all that much to start with.

Let me tell you why--

The season, so far, has been woefully unbalanced in favor of the Reaper storyline and the Maggie/Negan conflict (which ties back to the Reaper storyline by the flimsiest of strings) and I’m just not invested.

Why?

Well, it’s multifold.

#1 reason why? Having a third of the last season ever of TWD devoted to going inside “the lions’ den” of villains I have no emotional connection to or curiosity about is a big fat fail.

You might say “but there’s the Daryl double agent” aspect and I say “so fucking what” because it was so poorly conceived and has felt like such a WTF set of fraying puppet strings for this plot Angela was apparently jonesing to tell from the GO, damn the torpedoes she had to know where inevitably coming her way.

Seriously. I had talked myself into accepting that which I could not change, citing Daryl’s emotional brokenness after Rick. Convincing myself he’d lost his anchor to goodness and hope and fulfillment in his years of self-imposed exile from Carol and what was left of his family and to a certain extent? I can still by that explanation. But really. It’s the Leah of it all.

Let me attempt to explain.

To do that, maybe I should detail how I’ve always perceived Daryl.

Daryl, IMHO, began this journey with us and the rest of Team Family with a figurative fortress erected around his true, core self.

He was prickly. Defensive to any overtures of kindness because he inherently did not trust them. Loathe to form any real connection to anyone other than Merle, his blood.

Daryl balked at the possibility of emotional connection and flinched in learned fear from physical touch.

He did not recognize or accept affection or respect at face value because it was something rarely shown to him before.

Anybody else remember that childhood abuse book from Consumed? You know. One of those first times the showrunners/writers dumped a character nugget in our laps and left it to us to do all the backstory in our own imaginations so they didn’t have to enrich their own characters beyond the scratch and sniff, wham bam this is who they are work?

Anyway. We were left to extrapolate from that what most of us h ad already suspected--that Daryl’s formative years were already a living hell before the ZA ever happened.

So he was standoffish. He didn’t form emotional connections lightly and physical intimacy was something light years out of his comfort zone.

Until Carol.

Daryl’s defenses started to crumble from the very start with Carol because she piqued his interest. He looked at her, watched her withstand Ed’s abuse, and recognized something of himself.

Against his will, Daryl started to care and when Carol lost the one good thing that had come out of her miserable life with Ed--Sophia--Daryl’s core identity started to be revealed to us and probably? To himself after burying it so deep for so long.

Long story short? Daryl connected with Carol pretty quickly on a base level through the trauma of Sophia’s loss.

The real connection, the emotional work it too to peel all those protective layers away took more like--like planting a flower from seed and tending it to help it survive and flourish.

Simply said? The work was put in and Daryl bloomed with Carol’s (and Team Family’s) care. They all put in varying degrees of work but Carol planted the seed of his “belonging.”

And the thing about Daryl? Once he bloomed? He grew strong. He stretched toward the sun.

He and Carol essentially bloomed and fought their way toward the sunlight together.

And little by little, Daryl learned to accept the kindness, trust, and love he always deserved.

From that newly confident man emerged a Daryl not so fearful of forming connections and none have ever been more powerful than his connection to Carol.

I’ll spare ya’ll the paragraphs of how Daryl and Carol gravitated toward each other like magnets no matter the means of separation.

I’ll just spell it out like this: their bond supersedes all others, even Daryl’s bond with Rick. And with Daryl only accepting affection from those he trusts implicitly, Carol and Daryl have been the only potential “romantic” pairing that has ever fully made sense for his established character.

At least the character before Angela launched the grenade of Leah into the mix.

Leah was a fail from the start.

And you know what? I’m thinking that was largely intended (for various reasons) but I still think they could have shown Daryl as receptive to having a “romantic” relationship to those willfully blind to the possibility that he’s actually been in a “romantic” relationship with Carol since Season 2. Never mind that Carol and Daryl haven’t (yet) crossed certain physical boundaries yet. Emotionally? They are already there even if neither is able to admit it out loud with the actual words yet. But I digress. The people that never wanted to “see” Carol and Daryl as “romantic” because they couldn’t fathom Daryl as seeing Carol in that light had already deemed that Daryl just didn’t feel that way about her, that maybe he didn’t feel that way about anybody (if they couldn’t have their way and have him feel that way about their preferred choice for him, they preferred him alone), and Angela wanted to show them differently. To show them the light.

That said, if Angela was so hellbent on doing Leah? There were a multitude of better ways.

Here. I’ll give you one of them.

Daryl isolates himself from his family after Rick’s “death” same as he did in Angela’s version.

Carol’s been being pulled more and more to the Kingdom because Henry’s needing a mother figure is like catnip to her hurting natural-born, hurting Mama’s heart. So Daryl’s anchor to the man he’d matured into, the one with all these earned emotional attachments, is reeled back in, little by little, leaving him unmoored.

Dog literally runs into him just as before. It hardly makes sense given how young and floppy and uncoordinated puppies are and thus vulnerable to danger, but this is the least of things we need to worry about suspending disbelief for right? ;)

Dog and Daryl continue to have these run ins until Daryl decides to retrace the puppy’s clumsy trail and viola! He finds Leah’s cabin and Leah inside. She levels the same shotgun at him, they have a standoff, until---

Leah suddenly lowers the gun and incredulously says Daryl’s name.

That’s right. One simple change and Daryl and Leah have an undefined past already.

Daryl doesn’t completely let his guard down because he’s Daryl, but he relaxes enough that we see he doesn’t immediately regard Leah as dangerious to his own well-being.

From that point on, instead of tying Daryl up and threatening him, we could have been told the story of how they knew each other from before.

My version goes a little something like this--

Daryl met Leah through Merle. Merle, in turn, met Leah through the military before he got discharged. He and Leah had an ongoing “I scratch your itch if you scratch mine” thing and Leah? Well, she always had a bit of a soft spot/interest in Daryl that Daryl never really returned.

The thing is, though? With losing the chosen brother that filled the hole left behind by his lost blood brother Merle and losing Carol to her chasing after a chance of a new family (because she feels Daryl’s out of her reach too, our too blind and stupidly, silently in love idiots)? Daryl finds himself embracing the shared memories however minimal of that brief past and his grief and loneliness leave him receptive to Leah’s eventual advances in ways he never was before.

We’re still given hints of their unfolding relationship and we still don’t like it, but it makes more sense for Daryl to cling to the past when he feels he’s lost his future.

Leah still gives her ultimatum (there’s a reason she gravitated toward Merle in perhaps his most toxic state, she’s more than a little fucked up too) and it’s not as much of a hard sell that Daryl might be pulled in Leah’s direction when he feels Carol is all but lost to him.

Hell. They could have even explicitly discussed Carol. But wait! Angela would have never allowed that because she doesn’t want to shatter all the crackship dreams in one fell swoop.

But the story from that point on could have continued just as it has and probably I still wouldn’t have liked it but I could have at least bought it somewhat and understood it.

Obviously, it didn’t.

I don’t buy the Leah of it all. Angela built that “relationship” with monopoly money and it shows.

Because I don’t buy Leah period. I don’t buy Daryl giving even giving a shit about trying to or feeling like there’s a snowball’s chance to redeem her so I’m not engaged whatsoever with this Daryl double agent story and him even givign her crumbs about his real family.

That part rings false.

So that’s a big problem right there and we haven’t even gotten to the other part I don’t buy.

You know what else I don’t buy?

#2?

Why the hell are the Reapers so bloodthirsty for Maggie’s departure from this mortal coil?

Without giving better reasoning than they’re just cray-cray, the entire faceplants and considering it’s taken up about 70% of 11A’s focus? I’m pissed.

Because, IMHO, they should go big or go home on this to give it any entertainment value because it’s all stale, recycled air if not.

Maggie’s been established as a much darker character this season. Which led me to believer the Reapers probably had a legit beef against her, but it seems Angela is reluctant to go all that way down the rabbit hole and doesn’t want to commit to what could be a more entertaining and potentially fascinating story than just Maggie’s in the right, the Reapers are just evil.

Maggie is right about Negan, IMHO, but she’s also wrong in not listening to him when what he’s saying reeks of simple common sense. Ignoring sage advice makes her seem more like an angry toddler stamping her feet in defiance than the leader they are so bound and determined to tell us she is.

You know what? The window for me to give more than the half a fuck I’m giving right now as they beat this dead horse to dust closed when Maggie decided letting Negan rot in the ASZ jail cell was enough and spared him when she finally had her best chance to end him once and for all.

Maybe if they stopped having the same damn conversation and they didn’t take up 20% of the screen time left after the boring Reapers/Leah shit, I would be less resentful but I’m not and again, I’ll tell you why.

BECAUSE. We are in the last season of the OG TWD ever and this show has chosen to waste screen time on stories nobody cares about to the exclusion of the ones we’re yearning for more of.

Like ASZ. We’ve barely seen more than an hour of the eight hours devoted to Carol, Aaron, Rosita, Lydia, Judith, Kelly, Jerry and Co. in total. Especially since they’ve been trying to establish the Commonwealth on the side, too.

I mean, I never really expected to dig the Commonwealth so my expectations for it were lower than low so they’ve been exceeded at a miniscule level. But I expected and hoped for ASZ and those characters we’ve cared the most about to receive much more emphasis and the fact that they haven’t in this last season so far has been the biggest FAIL.

And okay. Selfishly, I want more Carol. She’s like salt. She makes almost everything go down better.

But really. Give me more of all the characters we actually care about, please. The Reapers and the offshoots from that story wheel aren’t it. I love Daryl but I hate this retread story for him. Leah is a weak point that pressed upon? Makes this weak ass arc collapse. Maggie and Negan are giving us nothing new. They are the definition of the word STALEMATE and that’s not what you want or need on the finale season of a show.

Yes, I have enjoyed the majority of the episodes overall, but that was because the moments I loved I weighted more than the ones I didn’t and know they have the most impact on the show down the road.

Probably 11A will fare better when all is said and done and the show can be binged but standalone? It’s been an overall disappointment and that saddens me more than I can say.

Anyway. I’m going to stop rambling now and try to psyche myself up for episode 8. I’ll be back with thoughts on it later, maybe.

Sorry for the word vomit, but I felt maybe I could in someway give voice to some of the feelings floating around out there and let you know that you are not alone.

Until later, lovelies.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #Shae's thinky thoughts #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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milknette · 4 years ago

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chapter 01 - au

lights out solo in the blue, but now i’ve found you.

tumblr month: @adrinetteapril

links: ao3 | ff.net chapter: previous | next

HUMANS suck.

Marinette bites back the need to scream, instead settling for a cold glare pointed at anyone who dares look at her— some even having the audacity to laugh .

This is a terrible idea.

Why did she think this was a good idea in the first place?

Her mind races back to last summer, where Alya was animatedly telling her about the wonders of the human world: how it was filled with knowledge and treasures that she could never find back home, where the people were so interesting and diverse, pointing out that she’d likely never get bored with the sheer amount of things they could do way up there.

“Come with me, Mari!” Alya had begged her. “This was literally the best summer I’ve ever had and I can’t imagine going back to college without you. I swear you won’t regret it.”

But as she stands in the middle of the quad, soaking wet from head to toe, Marinette only finds that she wants to curse her best friend’s name; to grab Alya by the shoulders and shout, “I regret it, you land mammal— how do you live like this!?! ”

She really should’ve just stayed at home.

Her dad was right, after all. Marinette doesn't belong here.

(Not with creatures like them.)

The mermaids are a proud people; ever since they had shown themselves to the humans (though the land people insisted they ‘discovered’ them— Marinette has to roll her eyes, humans could be so selfish and egotistical. ), active attempts to integrate and create peaceful unions between the two species were being implemented.

It was one step further into blurring the line between the real and the mythical— though really not all that noticed, as most mermaids didn’t care about the world on land in the first place.

Only a handful were actually interested in human life, and even fewer made an attempt to live within it.

Marinette, to her deep regret, happens to be one of them.

After a fair amount of begging and convincing, her parents had allowed her to take a kind of ‘exchange program’, where she’d be attending university with Alya on land for the next year.

It's exciting, at first.

Walking on her own two feet is a struggle ( really , how humans survived with these two weak limbs, she'll never understand), but decides that it’d be worth it if Alya had been telling the truth.

Sure, there are times Marinette misses her mermaid tail.

Though, at this moment, she really could be doing without it.

Marinette growls, looking irritatedly down at her scales, gleaming pink as they reflect in the sunlight. Her tail serves her well underwater, definitely, but it has become completely and utterly inconvenient on land: flopping uselessly as she tries to make her way to her next class.

She has no intention of transforming back to her original form, of course, but some other students thought it would be oh-so-funny to force her to do so— attacking while Alya wasn’t with her, so they knew Marinette would be stuck without being able to do anything about it.

After all, it's common knowledge that a transformed mermaid exposed to water would automatically revert back to her original form, and stay like that until they dried up— which meant one thing:

Because of a couple of immature college kids with water balloons, she’d miss her next class.

Again.

They're only too lucky that a mermaid using their powers is illegal, or they’d be in a whole new hell of trouble.

The sudden ring of Marinette’s phone distracts the mermaid from her thoughts, as she quickly retrieves it and answers the call.

“Girl, where are you?” The voice asks on the other line. “I dropped by Mme. Mendeleiev’s class and you’re not there yet? You know she’s tired of you being late all the time.”

Marinette groans, running a wet hand down her face. “Water balloons.” She only responds, flatly.

“Oh.”

From the static of the phone call, she can hear a hiccup, evidently her friend's poor attempt at trying to hide her laughter.

“It’s not funny, Alya!” Marinette cries, hissing as a few teenagers point and take out their phones to record her. “I’m stuck in the middle of the goddamn quad because of you land mammals ,” she spits. “Your species sucks.”

“Hey, not all of us!” Alya protests back. “I’m a great land mammal.” The line suddenly goes silent, as Alya pauses if in thought. “Why don’t you just dry up? Where’s your towel?”

“Sure you are,” Marinette only drawls. “And it’s still wet; this wasn’t the first attack I got today.” She snarls, tightening her grip around her phone. “Now get over here and help me out. It’s hot and if another teenager tries to take a video of me, I’m going to end up breaking more than a few laws, and that’ll get us both in trouble.”

A gasp. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

From the other line, Marinette hears sudden scuffling and books being thrown into her bag. “Fine, fine, give me fifteen minutes. I’m on my way.”

“Hurry up,” the mermaid responds curtly, before hanging up the phone.

She sighs, putting away the gadget, and looking upward. “This is so annoying,” Marinette complains, squinting as the sun shines down on her. Muttering to herself, she grabs at her tail in an attempt to drag it to some place that was shadier, with little to no success.

Marinette glares at her lower half.

Betrayal.

Humans are the absolute worst.

She decides that the next person who even attempts to look, much less talk to her, would understand why mermaids remained as creatures to be feared.

— And as it turned out she didn’t have to wait long, a cautious tap on her shoulder sending a sudden shiver down her spine.

Who the hell is dumb enough to touch a mermaid without her consent?

“What?” Marinette finally snaps, turning (with great difficulty) to the guilty party.

Only to flounder as bright green eyes meet her icy blue ones.

“I’m sorry,” the boy says, an awkward laugh escaping him. “I just thought you might need help,” he begins, clumsily gesturing at the lower half of her body, “with… all that.”

Marinette squeaks, a high-pitched sound of disbelief, before laughing— a notch too high for it to be considered genuine. “Oh, this? ” She asks, awkwardly patting at her tail. “This is nothing! No big deal! I’m cool, I’m cool, it’s cool… because I’m a mermaid, get it, it’s always cool underwater, haha …”

An awkward pause.

She cringes.

Did she really just say that?

Marinette wants to swim into the deepest trench in the ocean and stay in there.

Until she hears laughter.

The mermaid looks up, and to her complete surprise, the boy is laughing: amusement evident in his expression.

“Yeah!” He smiles ( a toothy grin that rivals even the rarest pearls she had scavenged back at home ), then continues. “That’s really funny, Marinette.”

She pauses, looking at him in disbelief. “You know my name?”

“Of course!” He replies, that same kind look in his eyes. “You did make quite a splash when you got here,” he winks.

That's corny.

Really corny.

So why in Poseidon’s name does she find that absolutely adorable?

“And I’m also studying mythology,” the apparent student continues. “I see you around the building sometimes.”

So the very pretty human boy who reminds her of sunshine (the good kind— warm and comforting, the kind of sunlight that reminded her of home; not the heated and dry sun that‘d been constantly beating her down as soon as she started living on land) knows her name.

That's nice.

Marinette continues looking at him, dumbstruck.

As if only realizing something, he smiles, offering his hand. “I’m Adrien, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

She stutters, awkwardly taking it.

His hands are smooth — nothing like the rough and calloused hands of the land people she’d met thus far.

“I— uh— Marinette.”

The corners of his mouth tilt upward. “Yes, I know.” He laughs.

Oh.

Right .

Why is she so nervous? This isn’t like her at all.

“So, about my offer?”

“Huh?” Marinette asks, still reeling from the sudden attention.

The mermaid isn’t used to his attitude, after all, knowing that most humans typically don’t take all that kindly to her species.

Friendliness, Marinette isn’t quite used to yet.

(Alya being the sole exception. If she arrives in the next five minutes, at least.)

The amused smile never leaves the human’s— Adrien’s face. “You’re a literal fish out of water. I don’t think you’re stuck here because you want to, right?”

She nods, the joke easily going over her head, as she remembers what happened. “Some girls thought it’d be funny to force me to transform back here.” Marinette growls. “You humans are all the same —.”

A pause, as she looked at the friendliness in his eyes.

There's no hostility, fear, or disgust in them.

It's a nice change of pace.

“Well, most of you are, anyway,” she amends, then gestures down the rest of her body. “I’m stuck like this until I dry up.”

Adrien hums, sympathetic. “That’s pretty inconvenient.”

“It is,” Marinette agrees. “But my friend’s on the way, so don’t worry— I mean ," she pauses, "not to say that you were worrying about me or anything, I’m just…”

The mermaid fumbles on her words, before resignedly just shutting up. “That is to say, I’ll be just fine.”

Adrien quirks an eyebrow, before looking around. “Really? Your friend’s nowhere to be seen, are you sure you‘ll be okay?” He pauses. “And don’t you have class with Mme. Mendeleiev right now?”

Okay, now he has to be some kind of mind-reader, right?

(Not all that farfetched, considering the co-existence of humans and mermaids in their world.)

“Wh— how do you know that?

“I’m actually her TA,” he explains. “I keep track of all her students and classes. So helping you would actually be doing my job.”

“No, it’s really alright—”

“I have some papers to give her anyways, so it’s on the way,” he points out, patting his messenger bag. Then, his lips quirk upward. “And besides, I’m pretty sure you’re in danger of being dropped from her class if you’re late again.”

She gulps.

Of course he’d know about that, wouldn’t he?

Marinette sighs, defeated. “Fine,” she began. “There should be some towels in the restrooms; it’s a little far, but if you could—”

“No time,” Adrien only states, suddenly kneeling down in front of her. “I think you only have five minutes before you’re late, and it’s a ten-minute walk to our building.”

He grins, before suddenly scooping his arms under her tail and waist, raising her up.

Marinette can’t stop the surprised squeak escape her throat, as she feels herself get lifted off the ground.

The cute boy is carrying her.

And not just any carry, but a princess carry .

“What are you doing put me down I’m gonna scream …” Marinette rushes to say, swatting helplessly at his chest.

This is so undignified for a mermaid, to have some human’s filthy hands on her —

Adrien smiles.

Marinette feels her mermaid-equivalent of a human heart skip a beat.

Then, he winks.

She's sure she's the color of her tail, now.

“Let’s go!” He only says, before running with surprising speed, so light and quick on his feet that she feels like she's flying. His hold on her didn’t falter either, carrying the mermaid with both strength and gentleness.

It's a strange feeling, being in his arms.

But as he easily runs into the building and up four flights of stairs, she decides that it's not entirely uncomfortable, maybe .

Marinette shows up in the nick of time, only a few minutes before she’d officially be considered late.

Mme. Mendeleiev looks at the two as they burst into her classroom, hands crossed against her chest. “Late again, Marinette?” She asks, evidently unamused.

The mermaid is about to protest, until Adrien decides to speak up:

“Actually, ma’am, Marinette’s just in time.”

“I take attendance at 10:15 sharp, Adrien.”

“And she got here at,” Adrien exhales, out-of-breath, as he looks at his phone, showing the lock screen. “10:14,” he states.

Mme. Mendeleiev pauses, eyes narrowing at the two, before sighing.

“Fine,” the professor sighs. “There are towels at the back. Dry yourself up then take your seat, Marinette,” she states, then pointedly looks at Adrien. “And you,” Mme. Mendeleiev stares at the floor, dripping wet from their entrance. “Go get a mop and clean up this mess…”

The sudden “woah!” from outside following a crash makes her frown.

“... before anyone gets hurt.”

Adrien has the decency to offer a sheepish smile, before immediately nodding, helping the mermaid to the back, then setting her down.

“Sorry for getting you in trouble,” Marinette mutters, apologetic, taking the towel in her hands. “And giving you extra work to do.”

He shrugs, visibly unbothered, as the kind smile remains on his face.

“You didn’t get me in trouble, I decided to do this myself.” He responds. “I couldn’t leave you alone helpless like that.”

“You’d be the first,” she points out, using the towel to wipe her hair. “I guess humans aren’t all that bad.”

“Yeah,” Adrien chimes, a bright laugh escaping him as he runs a hand down his wet hair. “Not all of us land mammals suck, I can promise you that.”

Marinette manages to look the slightest bit embarrassed. “You heard that, huh?”

He smiles. “Yup,” he responds easily, before leaning over to her ear. “But I get you. Some humans really stink up here.” He wrinkles his nose, then scrunches his nose up in a way that she can only describe as absolutely adorable. “Must be because they aren’t taking a bath 24/7.”

Marinette feels herself laugh, ready to reply, when—

“What’s taking so long?”

Mme. Mendeleiev finally barks, glaring at the two.

The two look at each other, then burst into laughter.

“Guess that means I have to go,” Adrien says lightly, then bends down, kissing her hand. “I’ll sea you around, Marinette!”

He runs out, and for the first time, Marinette feels like she's falling.

Or sinking , if she's being technical about it.

#hey hi hello #comeback?#adrinetteapril2021 #adrinette april #adrinetteapril #adrinette #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ml #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #ml fic #ml fanfic #sandbar nine

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amazingorangedangantrash · 4 years ago

Note

Do you have any headcanons for Makoto interacting with class 77??

oh bOY DO I-

Makoto interacting with class 77

(AH i started typing out his interaction with the remnants + post sdr2, but then I thought maybe you meant something more like the literal class + their school days/pre-despair? so here's that, sorry if it's not what you meant-)

(Also I got a bit excited and this ended up being less so headcanons and more like- how Makoto befriended the entirety of Class 77-B and then some, and because it’s long af, I decided to put it under the cut for the sake of both mine and your sanity, anon)

Makoto Naegi and class 77 (and Hajime Hinata because I just want to include him ok-)

• Chiaki Nanami- honestly I think him and Chiaki would get along well. She wants to make friends, and he's extremely good at it- I can imagine him walking up to her one day whilst she's alone and shyly asking if she'd want some company. I think he'd probably be a big help in her trying to befriend the rest of her class, and I think she'd probably come to him for advice/to complain. She'd probably look up to his outgoing and extroverted nature, and try to apply that to herself. He probably gives her some suggestions on how to get everyone closer. I also like to think she'd come to him when she needs a break from the rest of them too- she loves them, but they're a handful, and Makoto is sweet and soothing to be around, he's very open and easy to read, which can be comforting. Makoto and Chiaki are the “glue” of their friends, they help keep everyone connected (after all, it’s only when those two ‘die’, that everyone completely falls into despair). Whilst I think they enjoy and are proud of that responsibility, the expectations might get a bit much sometimes, understandably so, and they’d need to let it out to someone who feels the same. They both cherish their friends a LOT, and it’s sweet to imagine them gushing about it how awesome everyone is and how much fun they have spending time together. Chiaki and Makoto will be seen playing video games together to blow off steam from time to time.

• Hajime Hinata- he probably gets introduced to Makoto through Chiaki, and the two bond, if not instantaneously. Hajime and Makoto are VERY similar, in that they're both "normal". Hajime straight up doesn't have a talent, and Makoto only kind of does? He got into the main course through a lottery, and his luck is nowhere on the level of Nagito's- he's just as "ordinary". I think Hajime would be jealous of Makoto at first (after all, they're not that different, and yet it was Makoto who got to be part of the "special" group), but that would quickly turn into being comforted by him. Makoto also believes in everyone's potential, and whilst he admires talent and Hope's Peak, he doesn't believe that only the talented are worthy or capable of producing hope. I like to think Makoto harbours a little bit of an inferiority complex, being surrounded by talent all the time, and Hajime can definitely understand that. I think the two of them could form a strong bond, and a close friendship, due to their similarity. It's one thing to hear about your worth from someone 'better' then you, it's another when they're on your level. Makoto is very humble, and that's what Hajime needs- someone on his level to get real with him and be a friend. Additionally, Hajime is someone Makoto could maybe confide in about his own insecurity- lord knows he couldn't with his own class, or any of the other Ultimates really, but Hajime gets it. The two could bounce off each other well. I know a lot of people joke about them being ‘brothers’, but I can really see them forming a close, caring bond. Hajime doesn’t really have friends, and whilst he might be prone to bitterness and agression, he’s also got a good heart and cares about doing what he feels is right (dr3, when he tries to befriend the Kuzuryu sister and demands to see Mahiru (I believe it was). They both have an advocacy for justice, but a self-sacrificing nature too. They’re similar but yet also opposites in a way. They’re perfect as each other’s support and as their mirror perspective.

• Nagito Komaeda- oooohhh boy. We all know how Nagito thinks of his own talent *wheeze*, let's just say at first he's not- the kindest to Makoto. He doesn't understand why Makoto is so carefree and friendly when he's so 'worthless'. He sees Makoto as being overly confident and cocky (when the opposite is true), and almost finds it insulting that he can just casually walk up to the others and act like they’re ‘equals’. However, as time goes on, he comes to realise that Makoto's attitude and approach to life is truly extraordinary, and that he has a way of inspiring hope in others that Nagito has simply never seen before. I think Makoto would be a little hurt at first by the harsh treatment, but would continue in his endeavour to reach out to and connect with Nagito (and Nagito would find that persistence astonishing- no one has ever tried that hard with him). Unlike the others who either ignore or are irritated by Nagito's continuous self-deprecation, I think Makoto would instead be primarily concerned and do what he always does- try to help. Makoto is an excellent people-reader, and he'd be able to tell that Nagito's hostile and antagonistic attitude towards him (and other "normal" people) comes from a place of self-loathing and a twisted admiration for hope (a feeling he's admitted isn't entirely foreign to him). I think Makoto could grow close with Nagito, and maybe help him to see his own worth. After all, if someone as "talentless" as Makoto could be (what Nagito considers) the Ultimate Hope, what's to say Nagito doesn't also have worth? I think Nagito would go fanboy once he figures out Makoto's true talent though (maybe not as hardcore as dr3 lmao) and Makoto maaay have to reel him in a little (it's definitely jarring to see Nagito jump from disdain to total adoration towards him in the span of like- half a week). Makoto probably wouldn't like being idolised (he's definitely not used to it), but he wouldn't put Nagito down or push him away because of it either- he recognises that it's not, well, the healthiest, but he also knows it's not from a place of malice or impure intent. He thinks that Komaeda's outlook on life is similar but different to his own, and respects him for making him consider hope from a new viewpoint- and the same for Nagito. Makoto admires that Nagito chose to turn to hope instead of despair, despite the hardships he's endured. I also like to think Makoto (alongside Chiaki, probably) would play a pretty important part in getting Nagito to interact more with his classmates (he has a tendency to just... watch from afar), and open up more to people in general.

• Also on the note of Nagito- I've seen people suggest that Makoto could cancel out Nagito's super luck with his own- making them both just average. It's definitely interesting to consider! I believe somewhere Nagito stated that he just wanted a normal life and that he resents his luck for making him endure such suffering? (His poor dog ;-;). I'm going off into my own little Komaegi world at this point I'm sorry sjjdjssjdh but if that's the case then Nagito would be extremely comforted in Makoto's presence, finally not having not worry about something extremely bad happening to someone else due to his luck. He gets to feel what it is to be "talentless", and to his surprise- he enjoys it. It’s not so bad being ‘normal’. (secretly it’s all he’s ever wanted).

• Kazuichi Soda- Kazuichi seems to really crave friendship and connection with others. (I don't know a lot about him, but apparently he had a real tough/abusive childhood, and a bad experience with his peers lead to him developing trust issues) He puts on a façade, but we all know he's really soft underneath. I think someone like Makoto, who's very open with his feelings, honest, and naturally friendly, is the kind of person Kazuichi would appreciate. Makoto has a LOT of patience, and he could deal with Kazuichi's antics and goofiness a lot better then the others. Kazuichi is one of the more "normal" characters (personality wise anyway), as he acts a lot like you'd expect from a teenage boy. He's relatively carefree, he's talkative, he likes girls, etc- Kazuichi and Makoto would have a very typical "bromance"- they both offer a bit more of a typical friendship then their classmates. Kazuichi can be pretty clingy, but I don't think Makoto would mind too much. It probably feels nice having someone actively seek out his company and companionship instead of the other way around. Kazuichi could also teach him some stuff about mechanics- which comes in usual for anyone, really. (Once Kazuichi finds out about Makoto cancelling out Nagito’s luck, he insists that Makoto accompany him whenever he knows he has to be close to him for too long- he always seems to get the brunt of it around that guy...)

• Gundham Tanaka- Gundham can be very... enthusiastic, sure, but Makoto is used to the overabundance of energy from his own classmates already. At this point I feel like he's started to be able to read in between the lines when people talk to him, and he'd be able to see Gundham's gentle and caring nature, espeically when it comes to his furry friends. He'd see that Gundham probably craves company and connection, but due to his fear of intimacy, covers that up with an appearance of self-grandeur. In actuality, Gundham appreciates the time Makoto spends with him. I feel like Makoto understands that Gundham struggles with conveying his emotions and thoughts, and instead communicates his own feelings of friendship through Gundham's own love language- his animals. Makoto probably even goes out of his way to learn more about hamsters just so he can show he's made an effort- something Gundham is extremely grateful for. Makoto helps him with coming out of his shell a little, and Gundham helps Makoto learn to appreciate life a lot more when he's not cleaning up animal poop haha.

• Peko Pekoyama- Makoto is definitely no stranger to strong female fighters, especially the quiet and reserved type, so he'd be able to click with Peko. Whilst I think he’d be a little intimidated at first, he'd soon see past that icy exterior and realise that Peko isn't necessarily cold or emotionless- she just doesn't show her emotions visibly much. He'd learn to recognize that she speaks more with her actions then her words or even her face- as she often will do subtle things (such as buy him a drink or offer up her own time to talk with him) to communicate their friendship, something people don't realise at first. Peko has a lot of trouble communicating her feelings to Fuyuhiko in particular, and thus Makoto is more then happy to help her "practice" her communication, not just for Fuyuhiko's, but for her classmates' sake too. (Also it's mentioned that she likes cute animals and I just- imagine her struggling so hard not to reach out and ruffle his hair because omg he’s literally just a pupPY-)

• Akane Owari- Akane is a basically the lovechild of Sakura and Hina lmao. She's this wonderful mix of Sakura's strength and Hina's personality- I think Makoto might be a little intimidated by her (especially as she can be... aggressive at times), but he'd quickly warm up to her and vice versa. I think it was mentioned that Akane likes "small hungry things"? She'd definitely feel protective when it comes to Makoto, since he's so small and sweet- and not outwardly the strongest. I like to think he might remind her of her little siblings, who she adores and almost misses looking after. Whenever they hang out, it's normally at lunch, and Makoto will always make an effort to bring her some kind of food or snack if he knows he'll see her, a gesture she's extremely grateful for. Akane is great company on days where Makoto wants to be active, since she's like a big ball of energy. She's also laid back and carefree, and sometimes they'll sit in the grass and just eat and talk about stuff. Akane doesn't like to bother herself with complicated thoughts and feelings, so she's great to spend lazy days with too.

• Nekomaru Nidai- (apologies I don't know a lot about him but-) like Akane, Nekomaru is quite protective over Makoto. We've seen that he's got a righteous heart and strong protective streak, and he's unafraid to show his emotions, even if it gets him mocked by others. He's very passionate, much like Makoto. Makoto is very honest too, and I think the two of them would click over that. Nekomaru could act as support and encouragement for Makoto, as well as help him with organisation (he IS the ultimate (team) manager after all). I think Nekomaru would recognise that Makoto's talents lie elsewhere then his physicality, and instead of mock or belittle him for it, acknowledge that proudly.

• Teruteru Hanamura- ah yes, the little perv. Much like everyone, Makoto would probably be annoyed by Teruteru's... suggestive-ness at first, but I think after they spent some time together, Teruteru would ease up on the perviness, and treat Makoto with a bit more respect. Seeing as he's bi as hell, I can definitely see him developing a little crush or infatuation with Makoto (at the very least find him hot lmao). Makoto definitely wouldn't be used to someone expressing their attraction towards him so forwardly, and he'd be a little flattered (if not also rather disturbed-). Teruteru has been shown to have a real soft spot for his mama, and him and Makoto could definitely bond over their deep love for their families (the Naegi sibling relationship is so cute gah-). Makoto would learn to see past Teruteru's persona and recognise that underneath, is a boy who loves him mama and cooking food for people to enjoy more then anything. (Teruteru will complain at him for his "trash junk food" prefences, but Makoto will pretend not to notice when he secretly sneaks a bite because he knows it reminds him of his mom's cooking).

• Sonia Nevermind- Sonia is definitely a bit overwhelming at first. Makoto struggles a bit to not treat her as an figure of authority (she is royalty after all, it feels weird to treat her like a close friend right off the bat), but he soon gets over it. Sonia has expressed she wants to live like a "normal Japanese highschool girl", and I think Makoto would understand that, doing what he can to make her feel comfortable. He might find her obsession with Japanese culture and general misunderstanding things a tad off-putting (having her stare at him for 15 minutes straight while he slurped up some instant ramen was... an experience) but he understands it comes from a place of curiosity, and chalks it up to her being a foreigner. He actually finds it very sweet that she's trying to learn about different cultures and educate herself, and he's the last person to judge for it. He doesn't mind sitting and explaining things to her, and it's also interesting to learn about her life too, as vastly different as it may be from his own. She doesn't have to worry about him treating her badly or trying to take advantage of her occasional naivety. (He also recognises that she's a lot smarter then she may first appear, having in-depth knowledge of warfare, economics, and the complex hell that is international politics-). Her love for the occult and spooky stuff would remind him of Komaru- he makes a note to set up a ouija board session for the two of them someday.

• Ibuki Mioda- Ibuki is definitely an interesting person! She's very upbeat and friendly, and whilst it throws Makoto off a little at first ("M-m-makoto-chan?!") he gets used to it. After all, it's not like the others aren't also... quirky. It's stated that Makoto likes pop music (probably a result of his friendship and early feelings for Sayaka), so he'd probably be pretty fond of/interested in Ibuki, being a musician. She'd probably help him branch out into some more...*ahem* niche music tastes, and to his surprise, he actually ends up liking some of it (the absolute whiplash his own classmates get when one of them accidentally rips out his earphones and intense heavy metal comes blaring out-). Ibuki isn't exactly book smart, but she has a lot of emotional intelligence, like Makoto. Unlike Makoto, whose empathetic (or I suppose sympathetic) and caring nature is pretty obvious at a first glance, Ibuki isn't as much so, which is why Makoto finds it interesting how her outward punk appearance doesn't match her inward very caring side. She really values individualism, and encourages him to be himself, thinking it's dumb that he feels inferior for his "talent"- she thinks it's cool that he doesn't have an obvious focus or persona like everyone else puts on, that he gets to explore his personality and expression for himself, and she tells him as such. Makoto is grateful for this- he worries that he's too bland or doesn't have a ‘real’ personality and isn't special, and Ibuki is quick to refute him, pointing out all the little quirks and aspects of his personality she finds super duper cute (to his embarrassment)! Like with her music, Ibuki is able to find the beauty in places one typically wouldn't look, and Makoto admires that about her. Ibuki is pretty good at reading the mood, and if she senses something is off, will do her best to lift up Makoto's spirits without needing to outright confront him about it- similarly, Makoto will happily listen to her rant or gush about things without judgement- she knows that her interest and personality isn't what people typically expect from her, and he doesn't care. She doesn't feel like she has to hide her emotions or put on a mask to make him feel better, like she might with others. She knows her negative feelings won't bring him down, so she feels comfortable expressing herself around him, even when it's not always happy. They appreciate each other's honesty in being who they are. They bounce off each other's energy well, being such optimistic and enthusiastic people.

• Mikan Tsumiki- Mikan is a very, very vulnerable person. She's nervous and insecure and has some very obvious self-esteem issues. Unlike Komaeda however, she isn't *confident*, and is therefore very meek and timid and easy to take advantage of. Girl's got a lotta issues (i just read through her page on the fandom wiki and- man-), and someone gentle and understanding like Makoto would be really good for her to form a healthy relationship with (hopefully just the start of one of many). Unlike others, Makoto wouldn't want to take advantage of Mikan, and I think he'd genuinely want to help her improve herself, both in becoming more assertive and also in learning to have a little more faith in people, not always assuming the worst from them. He'd help teach her that there are good people in the world too, and that by learning to view herself with more respect, it will be easier for her to (rightfully) demand respect from others too. I honestly don't want to go into the more *unhealthy* sides of Mikan's potential for obsession, but as with Nagito, I can see her developing a bit of a crush on Makoto. (Whether or not that goes anywhere is up to you of course.) I think Makoto, whilst understanding that it stems from an unfortunate past, would appreciate Mikan's sweet and helpful personality. Makoto is very clumsy, partly due to his fickle luck, so I can see him getting bruises and minor cuts and stuff often due to it- Mikan ends up being the first person he goes to when this happens, and she doesn't say it to his face, far too shy, but he knows she's grateful to be considered a help to him.

• Hiyoko Saionji- Hiyoko is definitely... a tough one. She's very openly hostile and aloof, and she has no problems bullying others. I think a lot of Makoto's experience from dealing with Byakuya, Toko and Celeste would come into play here, as he's used to dealing with the openly mean, dismissive and arrogant types. A lot of Hiyoko's hostility comes from her past, and being treated cruelly herself, leading her to develop a harsh exterior as a coping mechanism. I think she'd be kind of jealous of how Makoto can roll with the punches so easily- I think she'd start to feel kind of bad about saying mean things to him. He would be patient with her, but would also call her out on her behaviour (without being dismissive or cruel himself) something I'm sure she didn't have people do before. She might not consider him to be like an "older" brother, but she'd respect him as an equal (since she deeply loves her father, I think she'd want a genuinely kind, good male figure in her life). Makoto is an older brother to a younger sister- I'm sure he's had to deal with Komaru being a bit of a brat before haha (am older sibling myself, can confirm). Hiyoko really appreciates traditionalism, and knowing this, Makoto might try to learn more or engage with that side of her- she acknowledges that her interests and attitudes are out-of-fashion, so she'd appreciate the effort made to understand her. Makoto might help to get her to be more sympathetic towards others. She'd offer a different perspective of their country and it's beauty to him.

• Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu- ah yes, the irl boss baby- as with everyone, Fuyuhiko would be short-tempered and aggressive towards Makoto. He'd eventually come around though. Makoto is pretty used to dealing with tsunderes, and takes it all in stride. It's a little to surprising to Fuyuhiko at first to see someone who isn't as easily deterred by his attitude as the others, and he admires that. Fuyuhiko has quite the inferiority complex, and part of that comes from his short height and youthful appearance (babyface-). It's nice to see someone like Makoto who isn't really that affected by his own appearance, and doesn't let it affect how he sees himself (Fuyuhiko is actually a little shorter even pfft). Fuyuhiko seems to want company, but has trouble initiating friendships and conversations (think back to the party from chapter 1), due to keeping up his lone wolf persona. Makoto recognises this, and will instead take on the role of instigator, which Fuyuhiko is thankful for. Though you wouldn’t expect it, he's actually also a Good Boi, and has a certain respect for rules and order (he's against underage drinking, smoking and sex, can you believe it?). Because of that, he'd respect Makoto for being the obedient student he is. I think Fuyuhiko would like Makoto's sincere and honest nature, especially considering he's not someone who's easily trusting- the Yakuza don't take friendship lightly, and once Fuyuhiko takes a liking to someone, he'll become fiercely defensive, protective of, and loyal to them to a fault (of course that doesn't entirely stop the jabs or insults- hey, he's trying). I think eventually Fuyuhiko would confide in Makoto about his own feelings of inadequacy and insecurity when it comes to honouring his family name- Makoto would be able to relate. He'd be able to reassure Fuyuhiko of his strengths, whilst also providing him with chance to experience a more typical, playful highschool boy's life. (He'll drag Fuyuhiko along with him to hang out, and although the other will complain and scoff at him, he'll enjoy it). He gets to be a bit more laid back and amiable, and less snappy or snarky. Makoto won't judge or embarrass him for letting loose a little, and vice versa.

• Mahiru Koizumi- Mahiru and Makoto are very similar, in that they both take on a friendly and optimistic attitude. They both tend to be the "caretakers" of their groups, and like to help others. Mahiru is the closest thing to a "makoto" class 77 has. They're both very kind and caring, and don't hesitate to offer their assistance and support. At the same time, they aren't doormats (well, Makoto is a bit of a pushover, but not to the level of characters like Mikan or Hifumi). Whilst I feel like Makoto is a bit more- restrained (he's seriously sarcastic and sassy, he just keeps it to himself most of the time), both he and Mahiru won't hesitate to point out when they don't agree with something. Mahiru's treatment of him due to him being a "boy" might be a little irritating, but it's not like he hasn't heard it before- (kyoko's "after all, you are a boy, aren't you?" comes to mind). He understands that she's probably had to deal with a lot of crap from guys, and doesn't take it to heart. It's been mentioned that Mahiru likes to take pictures of smiling faces? Well, I think Makoto would find that beautiful. Whereas others chastise her for it, and urge her to take pictures of other things, like objects for example, he instead encourages her to pursue what she's passionate about- after all, a talent is a gift, and you deserve to enjoy it. So what if it's "generic"? If it's what she likes, he sees no reason why she shouldn't continue to do it. He thinks her work is lovely regardless. (This is more of a personal interpretation, but Makoto gives off very foresty, natural imagery, and I think he'd maybe like that kind of thing, so maybe she'd find inspiration through his likeness to it?) Due to his innocence and pure nature, she starts to see a bit more of the appeal in nature. His smiling face is one of the first pictures of a boy she genuinely likes (though, it's not as if she'd ever tell him that).

• Ryota/Imposter- well, Imposter would probably act the same way around Makoto as whoever they were impersonating, though Makoto would probably be able to tell something was... off (though he just wouldn't be able to put his finger on what, exactly). If Imposter ever did reveal themself to him, he'd make sure to let them know that it was ok, and that he'd support their journey to reclaiming their identity however they wanted. Ryota (if he ever left his room and actually made connections with his classmates hsshhsh) would probably be the same as he was in dr3? He'd probably be a little inspired by and hold admiration towards Makoto, seeing him befriend all of his classmates, before that started to slowly turn into resentment and envy- animation is a wonderful thing, I'll be the first to defend, but Ryouta basically uses it to fill the hole in his heart that really, can only be filled with genuine human connection. Makoto could act as a stepping stone for this, much like Imposter, and act as support- him and Ryota are similar in firmly believing in and wanting to spread hope more then anything. Makoto would also genuinely take an interest in and admire Ryota's talent, giving him well-deserved validation for his efforts.

BONUS-

• Chisa Yukizome- news of the remarkable underclassman who managed to miraculously befriend all her beloved students reaches her, and she can't be more ecstatic! She takes whatever opportunities she can to invite Makoto into her classroom, under the guise of "important faculty stuff". Makoto's talent (luck, as they haven't yet fully realised his potential of hope) is a lot harder to cultivate then the norm (they're almost scared to experiment- the LAST thing they need is another Komaeda incident), so it's best to just- let him be most of the time. His schedule is a lot more flexible because of this, and you BET Chisa takes advantage of this whenever she can. She's extremely grateful to the young boy for uniting her class, and finds it simply wonderful how so much potential- so much hope can reside in someone so young. She makes sure to let Makoto know how much she appreciates his help, and will often leave him little gifts, like sweets and handmade arrangements, to show her gratitude. (Makoto doesn't really understand why this one teacher in particular seems to have taken a shine to him, but he doesn't mind- he finds he actually really likes having people place their trust in him- he enjoys spending time with class 77, and finds it both extraordinary and humbling that they seem to reciprocate the feeling).

• Izuru Kamukura- he doesn't understand why Makoto Naegi has had such an effect on the others. He's so unremarkable it's almost special. His talent is hardly enough to be considered "ultimate", especially not compared to someone like him, who has more talent then all of them combined (which isn't arrogance, merely undeniable fact). Someone like him, the 'ultimate hope', should be utterly bored and disinterested to the brink of tears with someone as mind-numbingly normal as Makoto Naegi and yet-

He isn't.

Perhaphs because unlike everyone else, Makoto doesn't consider him any more "worthy" then the rest of them. Unlike everything Izuru had been taught, had understood as soon as he'd opened his eyes for the first time, had known since the moment of his conception, Makoto didn't believe talent was all that was needed for hope. He believed everyone and anyone was equally capable of it, of becoming hope-

Makoto Naegi is-

Very interesting.

Aaaand there you have it, anon! ahdgjdsfhs I’m sorry it took so long. It kind of turned into more potential relationship analysis then actual headcanons oops- I might make a follow up to this that’s a bit more general-hcs style haha. I hope if anyone actually read this they enjoyed it! lemme know what you think!

tl;dr makoto is an angel and class 77 will happily steal him away hehe

https://www.zerochan.net/2046777#full

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sombreboy · 4 years ago

Text

Mused obsession (3)

Written by @sombreboy as Jungkook & @chimoona as Jimin Banner by @carly-bean-blog

[ masterlist ]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 6k ⇢Ch.warnings: profanity, so much drunken sexual tension, Jimin has a praise kink what's new, masturbation(both), blowjob, cum on Jimin's pretty face, cum on the floor, cum eating, just a bunch of cum, Luxe sheets with a thread count over 500.

Industry famous Jeon Jungkook of GJK photography takes an interest in a model and up-and-coming fashion designer, Park Jimin. After an opportunity to study the man behind his trusty lens, he thinks he may have just found his new muse.

How the tables had turned. Just yesterday Jimin was teasing Jungkook with a graze to the thigh, leaning so close he could hear his heart beat in his ears. "No questions asked...right?” “N-no questions,” Jimin confirms, not wholly nervous but aching with anticipation. H is wine-stained lips purse naturally as he tries to relax his tense muscles. The buildup is torture, but he has a feeling Jungkook will make it well worth the wait.

Jungkook squeezes the blondes thigh a little harder, internally cursing at how firm it is in his grasp. His eyes roam down Jimin’s features for a moment, as if giving himself time to think.

What does he want? After a moment that felt like forever, but in reality was merely a minute, Kook’s lips finally part as he mumbles out his slurry words. “Let me take pictures of you." It sounds harmless, but what Jungkook has in mind was far from innocent.

Jimin’s eyebrow quirks at the request. “What...kind of pictures?” He asks, but quickly clasps his hands over his mouth, breaking the one rule he himself set for the bet. “I mean…uh…” He tries to recoup regardless of his slip. He can’t help his curiosity. He wasn’t expecting a request so formal yet intimate. A personal photoshoot, in the private mansion of Jeon Jungkook of GJK industries? Surely this offer has never been extended to anyone else beside himself, and the thought alone makes him feel drunker by the second. “Lead the way,” Jimin confirms with false confidence.

Jungkook breathes out a chuckle through his nose, lifting a finger to wiggle it in front of Jimin’s nose. “No questions.” Slowly, his finger inches closer to drag the pad of it down the blonde’s nose bridge until it playfully pokes the button tip. “Come,” he slurs out, dangerously close to having a double meaning. Jungkook stands to his feet, wobbling slightly as he extends his arm to Jimin with tattoos on clear display as he does so. “I ne-eed you…” The younger pauses to take a breath, gathering himself—the floaty feeling mostly foreign to him, not used to drinking often after all, “...In my studio,” he clarifies.

With Jungkook’s help, Jimin stands to his feet, wobbling to hold his balance. He grips onto the tattooed arm and glides his fingertips over the needle-poked skin, memorizing the patterns like braille. He must look like a drunken idiot but he doesn’t care. He’s far past caring and it's greatly due to the fine wine and sexual tension that, at this point, he would need to cut with a jackhammer. “You have me,” he slurs. It’s supposed to be a question, confirming that the tall man had a firm grasp on him while they shuffle to the studio, but it’s laden with double-meaning. He leaves it at that, pleased to have the younger interpret it in any way he pleases.

Jungkook’s firm grasp doesn’t falter as he guides the elder to his personal studio. It’s a large room with no windows to disturb the artificial light fixtures, placed neatly around the place. His eyes glance over stacks of printed photographs on his desk, scattered out as he was rummaging through them this morning. They’re from last night’s shoot. Every single photo, different variations of Jimin—his new favorite subject. His eyes flicker over to the framed photos on the wall by the desk, filled with his personal favorite shots of the blonde. From a candid closeup of him being surprised as he walked into the glass-mirrored room, to the shot of him dropped to his knees, skin glistening with sweat from swinging the sledgehammer.

It’s pure art. Jimin is pure art. Now, Jungkook has this gorgeous man to himself, ready to do whatever he asks for. He snaps out of his thoughts as he looks over at Jimin, wondering if he notices the photos on the walls too.

But to Jimin, all he sees is a man dedicated to his work. It strikes him differently to see the photos printed in a large format. His drunken self doesn’t even process the fact that he was the only subject matter displayed on Jungkook’s studio walls. His wide eyes transfix on the fine details of each photo as he follows them down the line. It’s proof, Jeon Jungkook is the most dedicated photographer he’s ever had the pleasure of working with. “Which is your favorite?” Jimin asks, mentally taking note to possibly replicate the same expression in their impromptu shoot. He really wants to make the moment perfect.

Jungkook hums in thought as he’s barely paying attention to the photos on the walls. Instead, his attention is tunnel-visioned on the blonde, right next to him, in the flesh. “I think tonight...will be my favorite,” he murmurs, letting go of Jimin to head over towards the spot he just knows he needs to see Jimin pose, grabbing his camera along the way. The set looks as if it was prepared in advance. A large, furry white rug is placed on the floor at the center, surrounded by copious amounts of space. Some lights are placed around it, almost like there had been a shoot there before...which wasn’t the case, technically . It was prepared with Jimin in mind, but never did Jungkook believe he’d actually have him here... this quickly. “Stand on the rug,” Jungkook instructs. His voice is clearer now, even if he’s still in a haze. He beckons the model with his slender, tattooed fingers.

Jimin does as instructed, falling into the rhythm the younger set the past couple of days during their promo shoot. He’s almost positive he knows the next step, itching to shuck off his jacket and bend to his knees, but he’s patient and waits for instruction. Jungkook’s towering, lean body makes him feel smaller than he is. He’s ready to submit—to be a good boy for the victor.

The photographer steps closer to Jimin to inspect him further, as if he doesn’t already have every single detail of the elders face ingrained in his memory. Either way, reaches out to brush the blonde fringe away from his face. “No questions, okay?” He reminds, as if he needs to give another confirmation of this before he continues. He knows that as soon as he starts, he won’t be able to stop. Then he backs a few steps before he sits down on a stool with his camera held high, turning it on with a flick. He peeks through the screen, the small wall of technology serving as a detachment from reality, only spurring his own fantasies to grow. “Undress... slowly .”

The model knew it was coming. How could he not? But the moment those words slip from the younger’s sweet cherry lips, his mind numbs. He’s working solely on instinct and pure lust-driven adrenaline. He could feel the tension engulfing his entire being from the moment he first touched Jungkook; feeling fire ignite his skin to burn . There’s not a moment of hesitance as Jimin slowly begins to slide his jacket off his arms, looking down bashfully at his body, pretending he doesn’t realize the effect it has on anyone who looks. He’s a professional after all.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten around his camera at the tortuous show Jimin puts on, or rather...takes off. With eyes trained on the elder through the camera, he zooms into the parts he loves the most; his lips, his neck… However, soon, he’s sure the entirety of the blonde will be his favorite part. “Shirt too.” His voice is low and smooth. “Then turn around, let me see your back.”

Jimin trips over his own feet as he turns around, which would have been embarrassing at any regular modelling event, however, he lightly laughs—so airy and innocent. He turns around so the photographer can get a good look as he very slowly lifts his shirt over his head and casts it to the floor. He leaves his Chanel necklace on as he loves the way the thin material dances along his neckline, teasing the lens with faint flashes of light off the diamonds that lay there. He begins to unbuckle his pants and looks over his shoulder to make sure he’s being watched, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Are you enjoying yourself, Jeon?” Shit —he asked another question. He really can’t help his praise kink, wondering what’s going though Jungkook’s mind as he slowly slides the pants down past his strong thighs.

The shutter of the camera going off echoes in the quiet room—the only other noises heard would be their voices and Jungkook’s breathing as it gradually grows heavier. It’s as if he’s in a trance, time and surroundings long forgotten. Everything is about Jimin and his gorgeous body slowly coming into view. A low groan catches in Jungkook’s throat at the sight of the blonde’s muscular back, wasting no time in capturing the moment on video as his focus lowers down to Jimin’s behind. “Fuck, Jimin...you’re breathtaking.” He breathes out the words in a low groan, shifting in his seat as the aching in his pants becomes less easy to ignore. Eyes are completely lost in the way Jimin’s ass looks slightly bent over while peeling the pants down his thighs.

Jungkook’s compliment fuels Jimin to move faster, but he reels in his desire, taking his time with the final articles of clothing. First, he bends deeper to untie his shoes, leaving his briefs for the final reveal. He takes one shoe off, followed by the other, then places them gently by his discarded shirt. Pants slide down completely and are kicked to the side. He turns around to face Jungkook, not realizing the flash from his camera stopped and that he was being recorded. …Not that he would mind much, he likes to be admired in any form, especially by the younger man. Jimin’s hand slowly traces down his chest and taut abs, over his clothed cock, which is now beginning to strain uncomfortably against the fabric. He glides his hand over his length torturously slow, relaxing his face, closing his eyes—completely lost in the moment.

The red light flashing on the photographer’s camera indicates that he’s still shamelessly recording—the content is nothing but the most valuable thing he will ever own. ...Except for the man himself.

“You’re driving me crazy , Jimin…” Jungkook hisses through his teeth, now holding the camera with one hand as the other unbuttons his shirt, growing hot. “You’re doing so well,” he praises and he becomes impatient with the buttons, opting to simply rip the shirt open. Buttons scatter on the floor around him, exposing the middle of his torso as he lets the shirt hang from his shoulders. Never once do his eyes leave Jimin as the camera pans out to get the full view of the blonde touching himself—every expression saved into a digital memory for him to keep.

Throwing caution to the wind, Jimin strokes deliberately, snaking his hand underneath the waistband to wrap around his shaft. “F-feels good…” he whines. He opens his eyes and stares hungrily at the sight before him—Jungkook, camera in-hand, looking a hot mess with his shirt torn open. He no longer cares about breaking rules. They’ve broken one too many rules in their partnership already, what’s another? “Want to see?” He asks, slowly peeling the fabric lower with his other hand.

Jungkook peeks over his camera, eyes blown wide with need. The slow tease is tortuous, but he absolutely loves it. “Yes, take it off.” His eyes flicker between Jimin’s, roaming down his body until it lands on where the elders hand is hiding. Kook licks his lips in anticipation as his free hand now palms his own aching bulge, camera still held high to capture every single second of the scene in front of him. “Hurry.”

Jimin tugs the waistband low, gripping his hard cock in his hand, silver rings gliding over the sensitive skin. The briefs fall to the floor and are carelessly kicked off. It’s entrancing to see how eager Jungkook is for him, boosting Jimin’s confidence as he quickens his pace, using the dewey beads of precum to ease the glide. It wasn’t a mistake Jimin requested red wine—the rich liquid always makes him shameless and bold enough to do things he wouldn’t normally. He moans aloud, just for the photographer.

Jungkook’s bottom lip is clamped between his teeth with heavy breaths forcing their way through his nose. His chest heaves up and down slowly. The sounds coming from Jimin are sinful, and it drives the younger man closer towards madness.

How long could he go without craving his touch? The answer is simple. Not long at all.

“Baby....” The pet name naturally slips through Kook's teeth as his tattooed hand squeezes the prominent outline of his length, drawing out a low moan of his own. “Come here,” he nudges with his chin towards the open space on the floor between his manspread, eyes burning with need for the blonde.

No questions asked, right?

Never one to argue with the creative flow of a visionary, Jimin dutifully sits on his knees, resting his smaller frame between Jungkook’s parted thighs. He leans forward and presses his pout against the hardworking tattooed hand, flicking his tongue out to trace circles along the ink. “Yes, sir,” he muffles, lapping hot open-mouthed kisses down the hand until he snakes a finger between his thick lips. He wants Jungkook to know exactly what he can have—no questions asked.

A series of breathy curses slip through Jungkook’s lips as he stares down at Jimin, aiming his camera for a good closeup of the man’s lips, eyes sparkling with mischief. He leans back just a bit to get a better view, replacing the finger teasing between Jimin’s lips with his thumb and resting the rest of the fingers underneath his chin. “Your lips are so pretty,” he praises, swiping the pad of his thumb across Jimin’s upper lip—the pout being one of his favorite features.

“Thank you, sir,” Jimin whispers before sliding the thumb into his mouth, curling his tongue around it. He wets the digit well and pulls back, releasing it with a pop. He stares up at the man with wide lustful eyes, looking directly into the camera lens. “Please…,” he pauses, nipping his lip, “Please let me suck your cock, sir. I want to taste you.”

Jungkook feels like his breath is constantly forced out of his lungs everytime Jimin opens his mouth...he’s that fucking entranced by the man. Whatever he did to end up in this very moment, he’s grateful. The grip around his camera is tightening, internally swearing that if he were to squeeze it any tighter, it would threaten to burst in his hand. He slightly shakes at the tension built up in his body. “Go on, then. Take it out.” His lips curled up in a small smile, withdrawing his hand to let it settle on his thigh as he waits for the blonde to get to work. “It’s all yours.”

Jimin nearly drools at the sight before him, ignoring the ache in his own lap for Jungkook’s permission to touch. Now fully hard, every inch of the younger man is visible through the thin fabric of his underwear. The model firmly digs his shaking fingers under Jungkook’s waistband at both sides and tugs down until the length springs free, standing tall against his abdomen. There really are no words Jimin can use to articulate his excitement, so he shows it with his hands and skillful mouth. He delicately wraps his hand around Jungkook’s fat cock and strokes him just as he would himself, working him up and down gradually. He flattens his tongue against the underside and draws it up painfully slow, holding his eyes on the lens the whole time. Old habits die hard—he can’t help but be a bit of a tease even when he suffers just as much.

“Ah, fuck…” Jungkook’s thigh muscles tense. Automatically, his body reacts with greed before he’s able to control his impulses, hips twitching upwards to chase for friction. “Don’t tease,” he says with a stern tone, letting his free hand tangle in Jimin’s blonde curls. He tugs lightly to bring him closer towards his length, hoping to draw out some whines in the process.

“Mm…Y-yes, sir,” Jimin breathes, wrapping his lips around Jungkook’s large reddened tip. The sting in his roots from the younger’s grip tingles throughout his entire body. To be controlled by this man in a professional setting is exhilarating all on it’s own, but in this context…it feels electrifying . He wants to worship this man on his knees for all eternity, fighting to swallow around his punishing length.

‘yes, sir’ —the two words Jungkook never knew he wanted to continuously hear tumble from Jimin’s lips over and over until now. It makes him feel powerful, and he is... He’s one of the most powerful men in the industry, and he can have anything he wants by the simple wave of his hand, but this ... It beats every piece of wealth he could ever possess. His control over the man who had willingly dropped to his knees to please...now that was priceless. “What a good boy..” Jungkook purrs, inching the camera lens closer to Jimin’s face. The focus for this shot will be the way his length sinks deeper into the elders mouth at the photographer’s demand, in the form of a hand pushing the back of his neck. “‘Let’s see how much you can take.”

Jimin glows under the praise. He feels even needier by the sounds he was drawing from above, driven to make Jungkook fill his large house with only the sounds of pleasure he was administering. He braces himself clumsily on Jungkook’s inner thigh for leverage as his mouth begins to get fucked into. On queue, Jimin hallows his cheeks for a tight suction as he quickens his pace, making the younger grip his hair even harder, guiding his head exactly where he wants it.

Beads of sweat start to form on Jungkook’s temples, trickling down as he’s practically taking control; the grip on the blonde’s curls tighten further. “So good…” Jungkook drops the camera to the floor with a loud thud, with no regard to whether it would break or not. He wants to indulge in the reality of the situation, letting both his hands control Jimin’s head as hips fuck his cock down his throat. Jungkook throws his head back, lips parting in heavy breaths and moans that constantly slip through them. With every groan, the adam's apple underneath his clammy skin bobs. “Shit, you’re everything …”

Jimin focuses on shallow breaths, uncontrollably swallowing around Jungkook’s cock as it slides past his gag reflex. Without the camera to perform to, Jimin’s glazed eyes stare up, directly at Jungkook. Just seeing his sweat-dampened skin, his parted lips, and hearing the erotic sounds that escape them is enough to let Jimin know just how close he’s getting. Jimin fumbles to wrap his hand around his own length, struggling to resist any longer.

Indulging in the moment for as long as humanly possible, Jungkook continuously thrusts into Jimin’s mouth until he feels the familiar heat pooling in his lower abdomen. The muscles in his thighs tense up with every slick stroke against the blonde’s tongue. “I’m g-gonna cum soon…” He stutters out his breathy words, head bending forward to get a good look of Jimin desperately trying to please him. The grip in the model’s hair loosens slightly to let him work on his own length. “Keep going,’’ Jungkook says as he reaches for the fallen camera on the floor. Video is still recording as he guides the lens back to focus on Jimin’s pouty lips and glazed eyes. “A little more… Use your hands, wanna cum on your face…”

Those last words make Jimin jump in his skin, swirling his tongue around Jungkook sloppily with wet smacks and stroking himself faster in tandem. It has to be perfect—every fibre of his being sings to please the young photographer and give the performance of a lifetime. His own skin beads with sweat as he works himself up to finish, even harder at the promise of feeling Jungkook’s hot cum on his face.

The crease between Jungkook’s eyebrows become more and more prominent with every passing second, watching Jimin through his camera lens once again, feeding his obsession further. His hips start to tense and jut upwards for even more friction. “Wait, wait, f-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” He hisses out, not giving Jimin much time to make a show out of it. Instead the younger presses his hand against Jimin’s neck to force him further down on his knees, allowing his cock to pop out of his mouth. He quickly grabs a hold of his length and strokes himself right in front of Jimin’s face, letting the tip graze the soft, damp pout. A loud, drawn out moan follows the moment Jungkook cums. His hand shakily records his next piece of art; Jimin’s face covered in himself.

The model closes his eyes as he feels the first pat of cum hit his lips. Out of instinct, his tongue darts out to lick it away; salt and musk coating his taste buds. More spurts tap his face and gleam under the studio lights, making the beauty even more picturesque, painted just for Jungkook. “Mm…thank you,” he breathes, voice breaking into a whimper. He opens his eyes, face shining in the younger’s release, wanting to give him the best shot possible. However, Jimin never stops touching himself and begins to break. “F-fuck—“ A strangled moan catches in his tender throat as his hand continues to work steadily. He looks up at Jungkook with stars in his eyes and damp lips parted, begging for his own release. “ Please , sir…wanna cum too.” He edges himself, barely touching his hard cock until he receives permission from the victor. “…m-may I, please?”

Jungkook quickly gathers himself, sobered from his release, which only made this so much better. He’s able to properly focus on the man, on his knees beneath him. He gently gives his own length a slow stroke, quietly exhaling from the oversensitivity. “You may, you’ve been nothing but a good boy,” he coos, suddenly standing from his seat and pulling his pants back up. He pushes the stool aside before dropping to his knees in front of Jimin, getting a perfect view of the wrecked mess—a blonde angel. “Cum on the floor,” he instructs, focusing the camera lens on the way Jimin’s face distorts with pleasure.

Jimin nods dutifully and bites his lip in response to the praise. He relinquishes all power to the younger man; drunk and so incredibly weak from pent-up lust. With Jungkook’s permission and explicit instructions, Jimin leans forward and braces his palm on the floor while the other picks up the pace. He barely has to touch himself, he’s already so close to breaking. A string of curses escape his throat as he doubles over and breathes heavily, moaning aloud and stroking himself until he shakes. “C-cumming… fuck ..” His muscles spasm and contract—cum pooling on the floor beneath him. He sits back on his heels and looks up at Jungkook, exhausted and damp with sweat, cock twitching in his palm.

“ Wow …” Jungkook stares in awe, the same way he’d look at Jimin during their photoshoots. It doesn’t matter what state the blonde is in; he could be put together and styled to perfection, or a fucked out, sweaty mess beneath him with a face glistening in cum. It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s perfection . “You’re incredible…” the photographer breathes out as he pans the zoom, getting a full image of the scene on his recording. Jungkook reaches out to swipe his thumb across the elders cheek and gathers some of his cum before bringing it to Jimin’s lips, urging him to lick his finger clean. “Look at the mess you’ve made on my floor…” he says coyly, as if he wasn’t the one who instructed Jimin to do so, “Clean it up, will you? With your tongue.”

Jimin’s dextrous tongue snakes around Jungkook’s thumb, sucking it into his mouth sweetly before releasing it, completely cleaned of the sticky mess. The next request was past a boundary Jimin hadn’t pushed, but felt so eager to cross. He had a hunch the younger man was kinky behind closed doors, but he didn’t expect his mind to be pure filth. He loves discovering more about him. “Yes, Sir,” he nods again and levels himself to the floor on hands and knees, bent over like an obedient dog. He laps a rope of his own release onto his flattened tongue, pulling it up to allow Jungkook to record it going into his mouth, slowly, closing his eyes. Moans and wet laps fill the silence until the floor is sparkling clean, without a trace of his warm cum. He wonders what else he has yet to discover about the man that is perhaps even more sinister and degrading than what took place tonight in his mansion. “All clean.”

Jungkook is lost in his own world through the lens, making sure he captures everything in an angle that he knows will drive him absolutely mad later, as he will likely replay the content over and over. He hums in approval as he reaches out to grasp Jimin’s jaw between his fingers, squeezing his cheeks to amplify the pout of those plushy lips. “Good boy.” He praises, finally turning the camera off and placing it on the floor to give his full attention. “There’s one more thing that I want before we’re done for today,” he murmurs, slowly inching closer to the angel, “want to kiss you.”

“Mm,” Jimin hums at the mere idea of Jungkook tasting him on his lips. “Kiss me,” he permits, melting into his touch, leaning forward to close the distance himself. It’s timid and slow, almost more intimate than sucking his cock. Jimin parts his lips to take him in deeper, needing to be closer, letting Jungkook guide the way. His mind is swimming, still drunk and coming down from his euphoric state. It feels like the perfect wrap-up after a tiring shoot. Yet, it feels much more than a reward for a job well-done. Perhaps it’s the glimmer of childlike innocence in Jungkook’s eyes that make Jimin’s heart pool in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he needs this more than he thought he would. He has all the attention he could ever want in the world of fashion, but he hasn’t felt this appreciated in a long time.

Jungkook’s hand moves to gently cup the elders cheek, drawing him closer into the kiss as he lets his lips slowly explore the other male’s. A little cautious at first, but quickly, he starts to move more naturally against Jimin’s lips, already growing addicted to the feeling. They’re silky smooth, plump, like a kiss from an angel itself. Fuck… Jungkook is whipped. “Would you like a bath before bed?” He casually asks; the domestic feel of his words are completely unfitting for the situation, yet...not. He leans in for another chaste kiss, unable to keep himself away for too long now that he’d gotten a taste.

“Before…bed…” Jimin’s words trail quietly as he didn't expect to be staying much longer, let alone overnight. Hell, he didn’t expect a lot of things to happen past his fumbling attempt to beat the younger man at his own game—Overwatch. Even then, he should attribute most of what happened to his poor handling of a controller. He could only imagine what would have happened if he accepted the offer of sugary banana milk in place of red wine. “O-kay,” he solidifies, stumbling over his words, suddenly shy under the kindness being bestowed upon him. He seals his answer with a kiss, full lips lingering on the other man’s and breathing in the intoxicating scent of cologne and natural musk. He’s in no shape to go home anyhow. The relaxing offer of a bath felt so good after the day he had.

Jungkook pulls back from the kiss to get up on his feet, effortlessly lifting Jimin within the same motion as he snakes his arm around the elder’s hip. Without a word, he guides the two of them towards the grand bathroom upstairs, paying no mind towards the maid throwing small glances from the hallway where she’s cleaning. She’s never seen the young Jeon Jungkook bring such company to his home before, so the obvious look of surprise was hard to miss. A s the door closes behind them, the younger man prepares to fill up the bathtub with hot water. He pours in some bubbles with a mild fresh scent– because, well, he loves bubbles. His childlike bunny smile widens as he turns around. “Get in, I’ll wash you.”

Jimin gives him a small smile in response and steps into the warm water. It envelops him as he slides in, soothing and fragrant like Jungkook’s long fluffy hair. It’s a calming scent that Jimin now associates with the photographer, reminding him of the studio couch where they first sat close. Jimin is small in the lavish tub—it’s almost comical how the large bubbles nearly reach his chin. He’s still sobering but already feels much less drunk cradled in the calming water. But one important element is missing— “You wanted to wash me, Jeon?” Jimin tongues his red plushy lip and nods for Jungkook to join him in the tub. “Plenty of room for us both…”

Jungkook nods eagerly as he gets rid of the clothes covering his body, throwing them off to the side before stepping inside the tub to sink down behind Jimin. The bubbles rise with the added body into the water. “See it as a reward for being so good to me.” He praises, reaching out for the shampoo bottle to squirt a generous amount into his hand. He inhales the scent. It’s his favorite, and now the blonde would smell like it too. It’s almost as if he’s marking the elder once more in small ways. He gently starts to massage the shampoo into Jimin’s scalp, taking his time to cover every inch of the gorgeous locks. Jungkook loves to touch him, he can’t get enough.

The blonde’s eyes flutter shut, “Mm feels so good…thank you.” He leans back into Jungkook’s chest, allowing each of his muscles to go slack as the pleasurable sensation of fingers running through his hair puts him at ease. This is all very, very new to Jimin, but he’s quickly getting used to it. The slow and rhythmic motion gives him time to reflect on the day. “Do you think the show went well without me?” Jimin speaks openly, eyes still closed. Today’s event was just another critical component of his project and can’t help worrying that he may have jeopardized it by leaving early. Deep down, especially in this moment with Jungkook’s lean body pressing against his back, it’s hard to have regrets.

“You showed up, that’s all you needed to do,” Jungkook reassures with a soothing voice. His long fingers comb through the blonde curls until there’s a decent amount of lather builds up. When he deems it enough, he leans back further and pushes Jimin down gently. “Sink down further please, let me wash this off…”

Jimin slides his slick and soapy body further down into the water and cradles his head in the curve of Jungkook’s chest. At this angle, all he has to do is open his eyes to watch adoringly as the younger man combs his hands through his hair. He’s so relaxed at this point, accepting every bit of care with a contented sigh. Jimin smiles meekly, “How are you so good at this? Plenty of practice, I assume?”

The younger cups water into his hand as he washed off the suds, gently running his fingers through Jimin’s hair in the process. He smiles, nose scrunching up as he shakes his head. “No, it’s a first for me. I’ve seen it in movies, though,” he admits as the grin on his lips widens in light embarrassment. He finishes rinsing the blonde’s hair clean, then snakes his arms around his torso to pull him closer against his own. The intimacy is just as good, if not better, then the things that went down earlier.

“You’re a natural,” Jimin compliments, resting against his chest fully, “and so comfortable.” He turns his head to look up at Jungkook and admire the glowing sheen of sweat that tickles down his strong neck, over his collarbones. God, he really is beautiful. Jimin can’t wait to tailor a suit for the man, making good on his promise earlier. Every angle of his body deserves to be hugged tight. As the hot bath water cools, Jimin begins to feel very sleepy—the long day finally catching up. Trailing shortly behind, Jungkook also began to feel sleepiness creep up on him. However, he still gives himself a few minutes of comfortable silence to simply enjoy feeling Jimin skin to skin. “Hm..” He hums in content, eyes drinking in the pretty boy beneath him, “Alright… Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow’s a long day.” Jungkook gets up to his feet with water trickling down his body, then reaches down to help Jimin up as well. He steps out of the tub and grabs two bathrobes, handing one to the elder to get warm, then guides him to his room.

Just as Jimin settles into the bathrobe, thinking it’s the cosiest thing he had ever slipped his naked body into, he sits on Jungkook’s large bed and discovers it’s even cosier. Luxe sheets, with a thread count over 500. It isn’t something the model has dabbled in; impressing that the younger man has a taste for such things. He notes that any article of clothing made for him must be of the highest quality—no exceptions. Positively high on cloud nine, Jimin settles deeper into the bed and wonders where Jungkook ran off to. No doubt tipping the maid to keep quiet.

Jungkook returned to his studio to pick the camera off the floor. He brings it with him as he inspects the content, shameless of the sounds of Jimin’s moans and his own praises echoing, mindlessly going to the kitchen to grab himself a trusted banana milk before bed. His eyes sparkle at the video. The touch of the elder is still fresh. Hell, he’s literally upstairs in his bed. Slowly, he saunters back towards the bedroom with a camera in hand and a banana milk straw in his mouth. His gaze lifts to see his maid stand in the hallway, trying her best to seem unfazed by the lewd sounds coming from his device. “Isn’t his voice just sweeter than any other?” Jungkook smirks at the maids reaction. Obviously nodding out of respect. “Yeah… I want to keep him,” he mutters, “Make sure there’s breakfast ready in the morning.” He pays the maid no more attention before stepping inside his bedroom with the camera turned off. He places it on the nightstand along with the empty milk container, slipping out of his robe to slide under the covers next to Jimin and immediately wrapping his strong arms around him to hold close. “Missed me?’‘

“Mhm...” Jimin’s voice tapers, already partially asleep. “Missed me , Jeon?” He pushes his ass into the curve of Jungkook’s hips and feels the heat of his groin radiating into his bare flesh. His cocky confident attitude slowly returning as the alcohol burns from his system. Yet, he’s too restless to push any further. It feels good to be a bit of a tease right before bed, but he has his limits. “I’ll dream about you...,” Jimin mumbles into the pillow, muscles relaxing and eyes falling shut, “...Sir.”

Jungkook presses his nose to Jimin’s blonde curls and inhales the scent, which is now a mix between natural musk and his own shampoo. “Sleep well, butterfly,” he whispers, hugging Jimin tight as he too feels his body ache for sleep.

After a while of just...enjoying the moment, sleep finally finds Jungkook as well.

#fic: mused obsession #yandere jungkook #jungkook x jimin #jikook #yandere bts #bts mxm #jikook smut #jungkook smut #jimin smut #bts smut #bts mxm smut #sombreboy #chimoona #boymeetsmxm

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some-cookie-crumbz · 4 years ago

Note

Huwumi with Type of Kisses Prompt 2?

Aw Hell yeah~! Let’s get some of that good stuff up in here~!

Kissing Prompt 2: A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

Once upon a time, Fuyumi had loved going to Hero events with her father. She’d considered it an honor and opportunity to spend time with him one on one. After the first few times she ended up spending most of the evening jumping from one conversation to another, singing his praises and presenting her own accomplishments as his, she started to realize that it wasn’t anything deeper than convenience. She’d been hurt by it at first, if she was honest. But as time went by, she came to accept that it’d be a good way to keep the family image clean. Besides, if their father’s name remained untarnished and even somewhat reputable, it could help open door for Shoto. She begrudged spending hours in a chair having her hair styled and make-up applied, but she did that and the whole heeled dog-and-pony show for the greater good.

Now, though, she had a different reason to look forward to the events a bit herself.

That night was a congratulations ceremony for Best Jeanist after successfully solving some complicated case. She hadn’t been paying too much attention to the details, if she was honest, as they seemed more than unpleasant. The event was being held at some upscale foreign restaurant with a large, spacious garden that the guests could wander. Making sure no one else was paying her too much mind, she slipped away to look around at the wide array of flowers, hovering just under a wooden ramada decked out with vine plants and little twinkling fairy lights.

“Rather soothing, huh?” She jumped and whipped around, watching as Hawks came to a slow landing just outside the ramada to her left. There was another small entrance way there, too.

Her heart skipped a beat and she offered a small smile. “Fashionably late, I see,” she hummed, carefully approaching him. He offered her his usual smug grin as she stepped onto the small walking path he’d landed on. Even in the low lighting of the small path lights, he was ethereal, wearing a suit that had to have been tailored to his form only. His hair looked like it had probably been slicked back at some point, but already started to crumble from his flight there.

“Well, it’s not as if I was particularly waited for,” he shrugged. There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he offered her his hand. “Unless you came out here anticipating my arrival, Todoroki-Chan?”

She placed her hand in his and came to stand beside him. “I had a hunch you would be running a little behind, like usual,” she trailed, “so I anticipated you’d get here eventually.”

He beamed at her. “Ah, so you were waiting especially for me! Such a darling you are!” he sang at her, grin widening as a faint dust coated her cheeks.

With her hand in his, they wandered around together, falling into casual playful banter. She wasn’t exactly sure when she started looking forward to talking with him. The first few meetings had been unique in that he never once asked her about her father, but rather about her job and what she enjoyed about it. He would listen to her ramble on about this or that with her students, ask appropriate follow-up questions, and slowly moved on to the other things she delighted in and gradually slipping in the occasionally flirty remark or salacious wink. She rather enjoyed this poking and prodding game, beginning to return the favor and feeling a thrill up her spine at how his eyes lit up at her flirty retorts.

They settled down on a little bench, surrounded by rose bushes of various colors. “Ah, I always wanted to have a garden like this,” she said with a dreamy sigh.

“A woman with a chilly Quirk and a green thumb? My, you just keep uping your resume, Todoroki-Chan!” he teased.

She giggled and shook her head. “I tried to make a little garden when I was thirteen and it went… very poorly,” she drawled for emphasis. She shook her head. “I suppose the effects of my Quirk extend to even when I’m not using it.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he hummed, looking behind them for a moment. In a flash, one of his feathers came flouncing over, a lovely pink rose resting atop it. He took it carefully with one hand while the other took his feather, hardening the plumage and beginning to cut the thorns from the stem. “I think you’d fair better nowadays. You’re a spring heart born to a winter sun, as I’ve come to notice.” He reached out and gently tucked the flower behind her ear, fingers lingering along her cheek as he moved to pull back.

She wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the soft lighting. Maybe it was his words. Maybe it was the tenderness in his eyes and the touch of his fingers on her skin. Something about the moment just felt… right. Like some pieces were clicking together to create a splendid, beautiful picture she was too afraid to dream of being real.

Fuyumi leaned closer to him, eyes sliding half close, and let their lips meet in a whisper of contact. Even just that much felt electric, the slight brush of chapped lips to her own something that felt so much better than she’d ever imagined. His eyes widened at her actions. For a moment she wondered if she’d overstepped. But as she moved away, he pursued, pressing his lips more firmly to hers. The hand that had been at her cheek moved farther to cradle the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, wasting no time in seizing control and kissing her with a kind of spark that made made her whole body tingle.

She decided in that second that she could get used to this.

She let out a small mewl as she met his fervent need with her on, hands moved to his shoulders and snaking their way around him. One tangled in his wind-whipped trees while his other arm found her waist, looping and pulling her flush against him. He let out a small groan as she settled in his lap, one hand curling in his hair while the other slid back down along the front of his suit, and she shivered in delight at an experimental nip to her lower lip from his teeth. Even with the top coat and undershirt, she could feel how his heart was hammering away in his chest, revelling in having as much of an effect on him as she did to him.

They pulled back after a moment, foreheads pressed together and breaths mingling in the aftermath of weeks of tension getting its first taste of snapping.

“Fuck, Fuyumi,” he breatehd softly, staring at her with an expression that seemed… guilty? She watched him as he struggled, eyebrows knitting. What did he have to be guilty about? She initiated the first kiss. She’d been kissing him back. Not a touch of alcohol had graced her lips that evening. So why did he suddenly seem remorseful? He opened his mouth to say something before the mood was completely tainted.

“Fuyumi! Where have you run off to?”

Just like that, the spell was broken and, on instinct, she violently shoved the blonde away.

Caught off guard, he let out a noise that bordered on a squawk, toppling over the side of the bench and right into the foliage behind them. Her heart lurched painfully as she suddenly reconnected every little dot in her life in a whirlwind. Of course he humors you, her mind sneered, you are your father’s only daughter! Bewitching her would be a huge move for Hawks, even if he had more than enough clout of his own to run off of. And, given his area of expertise, he’d probably deduced what topics to avoid to garner her trust. As well as what topics to engage with to reel her in faster. And to think that she’d been letting him kiss her like that! If anyone had seen them together, what would have been said by the papers and her father? What a scandal they’d be, she thought. Number Two Pro dating the Number One Pro’s daughter? The realization that his interest was most likely far from genuine felt like a punch to the gut as she pushed herself upright from the small bench, briefly glancing back at his form groaning from the rose bush she’d shoved him in to.

She swallowed hard, abandoning the pink rose on the bench in her stead, before scrambling towards the sound of her father’s voice without a second glance over her shoulder.

#crumbles grumbles #Huwumi #my fics #This ended up getting longer than I planned #And that splash of angst I threw in there was also unintentional #Might need to do a follow up to this one.

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jawritter · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Me...

CH. 1

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunatley have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Cheating Danneel, Depressed Jensen, Emotionally hurt Jensen, Language, I think that’s it...

pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1797

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Jensen pov:

"Yeah I'm well aware this is partly my fault Danneel there's no reason to drive the point home, but I wasn't the one fucking one of my employees was I?"

Jensen was reeling, he couldn’t believe this was happening, he couldn’t believe what he had seen, it all felt just, not real...Like some strange out of body experience or nightmare that he just couldn’t wake up from..

Then as if to add insult to injury, here she was on the phone with him, trying to make it out like this was all HIS fault...

Like he was the one bouncing on the dudes dick when she came home from work, and not the other way around.

He just wanted to see his family, his kids, his wife, maybe even play with the God damn dog a little before leaving for the hotel before the convention started tonight. You would have never convinced him of what he was going to find when he walked through that front door the way he did today, not in a million years.

The raw and unforgiving reality of it though was that it was real, he saw it with his own eyes, and just like that, his marriage was over. It was almost too much for him to take all at once, and the longer he heard her make one excuse right after the other to try and play the victim, instead of the cheating whore that she was, the more angry he got...

"All that time I was gone you weren't the only one that was lonely!! You weren't the only one who wanted to be close to someone!! I WANTED TO BE CLOSE TO YOU!! I HAD MY DAMN PICK OF ANYONE I WANTED!! I SPENT WEEKS PLANNING THIS TRIP SO I CAN HAVE JUST A FEW HOURS WITH YOU!! I'M DONE DANNEEL WE'RE DONE!!"

Hanging up the phone before he could say anything he might regret, or anything she might be able to use against him in court, Jensen threw his phone across the room onto the hotel bed and shoved his hands into his hair, trying to get a hold of his frustration.

He started trying to talk it out with her, he really did, but the longer he was on the phone with her, the more his temper got the best of him. By the time he got off the phone with her, his face was red, and he had a knot in his stomach that made him feel like he wanted to vomit, and he was pretty sure that his blood pressure was at stroke level the whole time driving from Austin to Dallas…

He only had about three hours to get myself together before the rest of the cast and crew would arrive to get their rooms, and start the convention…

He was supposed to perform tonight for the Saturday nights special like he always did… So he had to get himself together before that started, and he had to take the stage in front of all those fans..

Thank God the hotel staff let him check in early. So he didn’t have to go to his parents to face them, or drive around Dallas for three hours because he was in no shape to be driving around right now.

Jensen didn’t have time to get drunk before the show tonight, or to sober up in time for it to start anyway, so he paced around his room trying to control his rapidly beating heart rate. Because right now he either felt like he was having a heart attack, panic attack, or both…

His mind was reeling with questions.

“How could she do this to me? I made sure she wanted for nothing. I loved and supported her the only way I could. I don't understand why she did this. I was faithful, even when I had every opportunity not to be I was faithful. This isn’t fair. Did she ever love me at all?”

A knock on the door disturbs him from my thoughts, and he glared at it a moment, thinking about ignoring it until he heard Jared yelling through the door.

"Hey J!! Are you there? I got here a little early, and they said downstairs that you were already here!! Let's get a drink before everyone else gets here!!"

A drink did sound pretty good, and if there was any he trusted it was Jared. He'd known Jensen the at his worst, and at his best, and he was always there when he needed him.

He had a right to know what happened.

Jensen grabbed his hat and shades before walking to the door, leaving his phone on the bed, he didn’t want to talk to Danneel anymore, he’d said everything he had to say, and if anyone wanted to find him that bad they usually called Jared.

Steading his nerves before he opened the door to join Jared for drinks he couldn’t help but feel like this was going to be a long convention.

.....................................

Your POV:

"Come on Y/n!! Put that damn guitar down!! The concert starts in one hour, and I want a good seat!!" Y/f/n yells at you from the hotel bathroom.

Rolling your eyes you sit your guitar back into its case, and put it in the closet so that housekeeping or whatever wouldn’t just see it laying around and take it.

It was your most prized possessions...

Music was your life...

It's what kept you going, what got you out of bed in the morning, and the last thing you thought about before you went to bed at night.

Most importantly it was there for you when no one else was… That much you had learned the hard way…

"Don't you think getting there an hour early is a little extreme?" You complain, turning around and checking your makeup in the mirror and grabbing your phone, and slipping it into your back pocket.

"Look you have no idea how crazy these people are that come to these cons, and I want to be so close to the stage I get sprayed with spit when Rob starts to sing." She says matter of factly, pulling her purse over her shoulder, and meeting you by the front door.

"Yeah because that's what a totally sane person would say about their seating arrangements." You mumble, rolling your eyes and shaking your head as you open the door.

The girl had it bad for Rob, which honestly was a nice chance, most girls were here for Jared, Jensen, or Misha..

You were more interested in seeing Jensen tonight yourself. The way his voice washed over you when he sang! Ugh there's nothing else in this world like it. It always rolled over you like honey, but burned slow, like a shot of the best top shelf whisky..The man wasn't human.

He was a damn God, and deserves to be treated as such.

The two of you rode the elevator to the first floor laughing, and talking about music. There were two guys in the elevator when you two got on, but you didn’t really pay them any mind. One of them smelled like he'd had more than one drink, and they both seemed to be trying to blend into the back wall of the elevator, not wanting to talk to the two of you.

"If they call for a fan to come up on stage tonight you should totally go sing with Jensen." She said, elbowing you in the ribs. Eating herself the best bitchface you could muster.

"No way dude, I'd never get past the first line. I'd freak out, and make myself look like a complete, and total idiot.."

The shorter one of the men in the elevator smirked at the ground at your conversation. There was something familiar about that smirk........

You were about to tell him it was rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, when your friend spoke up again..

"Come on Y/n for my birthday PLEASE!!" She begged, giving you puppy dog eyes worthy of Sam Winchester.

"No way. He's not gonna want to sing with someone like me.” You say, trying to brush her off..

“What would you even want us to sing?"

The two of you exited the elevator, and you had all but forgotten about the two men following you just in ear shot.

"Hmm.... I don't Know........ How about.... Picture, by kid rock and Sheryl Crow." She said, all but bouncing as you joined the already forming line outside the doors leading into the hall where they were about to have the concert.

She loved that song, even though it was overplayed and overdone.

"That song is so damn old Google probably can't even find the lyrics to it anymore." You tease her.

She just rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at you.

“It’s my birthday, so I pick the song! I didn’t say you’d have to like it”

The doors were opened before long, and the two of you made your way through the doors into the large room the concert was being held in. Leaving early had paid off. You were center stage, front row. Thanks to your friend’s media pass and gold tickets too, but you weren’t going to point that out.

Y/f/n was jumping up and down in her seat with excitement, and you just couldn’t burst her bubble.

"Did you see those two guys that were in the elevator with us?" You asked, as the two of you watched the other fans filter into the room.

The smile that one guy did sure did look familiar. You wished you could have gotten a better look at his face better, but they were both wearing shades and ball caps; keeping their heads down like they didn’t want to be bothered, and you didn’t want to stare at them, and make them feel uncomfortable..

"Yeah I saw them, probably just two dudes here with their girlfriends." she says shrugging you off as she sets up her camera for tonight. You don’t know why you cared so much, not like it mattered anyway who they were, or why they were here, there were a lot of strange people that went to these conventions, and they probably were here with their girlfriends, but still that smirk…

You shoved the thought of the two strangers in the elevator aside, you were about to see “The Jensen Ackles” sing. Honestly if you could have known you were going to die when he walked off stage.

You'd die happy.

Just cause you were that close to that beautifully sculpted, almost inhuman body, and voice that could melt you like butter.

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut #hurt!jensen #suicidal fic #dark fic #hurt!comfort fic #spn fanfiction #spn fic #x reader inserts #jawritter

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m-is-for-mungo · 4 years ago

Note

👀 for Lily from Mason’s perspective!

I actually wrote a little about this a few days ago!

Mason feels all kinds of ways about Lily when she first gets to Nuka World.

SLIGHT NSFW CONTENT FROM HERE ON (you have been warned)

So it’s gonna be Yuuto (my General) and Lily going through the Gauntlet in tandem, and they tag team to bring down Colter. Mason isn’t too impressed cause he’s seen Colter take down challenger after challenger, but he is on the edge of his seat when he witnesses Lily rip out the controls for Colter’s HUD, leaving him effectively blind.

He is actually impressed by the time the dust settles, but notices Yuuto is running their show, seeing as Lily is like MacCready and a hired merc.

He gets ANGRY when they’re first properly introduced. Yuuto and Gage are doing the meeting of the bosses, and Lily is trailing close behind Yuuto. Once Yuuto and Mason have their back and forth, she turns to speak to Gage, and they’re interrupted by Lily pinning Mason (that LOVELY commission I had Drovenna do) cause he took her ignoring him as a sign of her not paying attention and tried to steal her sachet of caps off her belt. He tries to yank his arm back, and can’t make it budge, and Lily digs her knife in a little to make a silent point that yes it’s sharp and yes she will use it. But no matter how much rage is pulsing through him, god damn it if he can’t help that his pants are TIGHT and he storms off after they leave to fix that predicament.

They quite frankly hate each other the first bit. Lily gets stationed in the Amphitheater because Yuuto sees the Pack as the problem crew (jokes on her when the Disciples turn). Mason actively ignores her presence, and is furious she’s practically baby sitting him and his gang. She doesn’t leave his side by his throne, just leaning against the wall in silence, chain smoking and drinking heavily. He’s convinced she’s gunning for his spot, and then...

One day, Lily starts getting harassed by some of the Pack. Sneering at her that they don’t need a watch dog, they’re surprised Mason hasn’t made her his bitch after that little stunt she pulled in front of everyone, how she’s asking for her death and then one of them decides to challenge her. Mason just quietly watches, intrigued by her not even batting an eye at these guys, one of which is easily a foot taller than her.

He can’t explain the heat in his chest. He’s never felt this, and it’s like an itch he can’t scratch. He realizes he’s holding his breathe as she just silently walks towards the fighting cage and sets her gear to the side (her hat, mask, and jacket). He has pretty much lost interest in the daily fights in the cage, but he can’t lie that his eyes aren’t glued to her. She can’t be serious, right?

And oh boy, his body turns into a furnace as she methodically makes each guy tap out, even picking one up and slamming him to the ground. Good god when she wipes the sweat matted hair from her forehead, and then looks at Mason, their eyes locking, and she just grabs her stuff and bows towards him, a sarcastic curtesy, before leaving the Amphitheater for the night. He wants to follow her, ever part of him is screaming that she is meant to be his. And he realizes then, he may do whatever she asks just to have her.

Eventually... Yuuto demands the bosses help her and Lily take the parks back. You want a park, you have to get your hands dirty. He tries to cage her, pulling his rank as Alpha and people don’t get to say no to him. He definitely ended up with a black eye over that one. With his pride wounded, he tries again, this time tries to make her jealous by opening inviting various female Pack members to his private quarters, but he can’t even be satisfied by them anymore. It’s too hollow. It isn’t her flowing green hair in his hands, it isn’t her mismatched eyes admiring his form, it just... isn’t her.

But, they get separated together in Safari Adventure and have to retreat to the treehouse for a night.

The start of Mason’s desire is watching Lily intently while she’s sniping the Gatorclaws that she can see. The way she holds her breath with each pull of the trigger, her rifle is an extension of her... the dried blood from the initial assault, watching her charge towards death and winning, dodging wildly swinging claws, she even dodged one attack and swung up onto the beast’s back and loaded its head with her desert eagle. He tried his best to be macho and watch her back, but she ended up saving him. So surely... she doesn’t fully hate him?

When it starts pouring down rain and Lily no longer has the visibility to shoot, she undoes her gear and sets up a little nest in the treehouse. She tries to sleep, but she can feel Mason’s eyes burning holes in her figure, and frustrated, walks out into the rain to lean against the balcony, viewing all of Nuka World. Mason can’t take it anymore, seeing her dripping wet, her hair slowly loosing the mud and blood and her vibrant green starts nearly glowing under the moonlight. Her clothes are clinging to her, and his breath is labored as his eyes travel from her head, down her back and lingering on her ass. He HAS to have her. He believes he may truly die if he can’t, and these feelings of needing someone has his mind reeling. He doesn’t just need her for sex, he needs her for everything.

And so... he does the opposite of what he’s tried. He comes up behind her, placing his hands on the railing, caging her once more.... but sighs into her hair. “Kitten..” he purrs into her ear. “Please. I NEED you. I ain’t ever needed anyone but the thought of being here with anyone else...”

She shivers, a completely involuntary action. She wants him but can’t... or can she..? She lightly leans back onto his chest and the sigh that leaves her chest... The pure warmth and comfort that his presence gives is nothing compared to actually being pressed against him. She snaps back to reality and shakes herself out of it and snakes her way to face him. She couldn’t hide the fire lit in her eyes but she gritted out “Oh, the Al-pha~ is begging for once? You have plenty of women prowling your quarters, I’m not a substitute.” She accentuated Alpha, it almost sounded like a purr to his ears. He gripped the railing, the wood protesting the vice grip he had on it. God damn this woman.

The rain had slowly washed away his face paint, and Lily couldn’t take her eyes off his bare face. Her will to deny him was steadily shattering, and then... he slowly lowered himself to his knees, gently pressing his forehead to her exposed stomach. The rain droplets that had settled on her navel did little to cool him, and he nuzzled his nose on the soft skin. “Lily...” he whispered, the hot puff of air causing another shiver. “They aren’t you. No one... no one can give me what I need. I know you hate me but god I need you like I need to fight, to breathe, to live.” He slowly brought his hands around the small of her back and started trailing light kisses along her stomach. He could feel his ears and cheeks burning with a crimson blush, and tried to push that to the back of his mind. He had his mate, he just needed to convince her of the same.

She tried to resist. Let the record know that god she tried to resist. But the last glance at him... knelt before her, his paint gone revealing the most handsome face she had ever seen, god she could stay here memorizing every freckle, mole and scar... his eyes glittered in the moonlight, highlighting that for once, these soft words were genuine. His hair was no longer perfectly coiffed, the loose tendrils hanging over his forehead dripped with the soft rain. She almost felt like it was a foreign act, as she gently reached and cupped his chin. “Mason...” her voice was soft, pleading, a delicate song in the dead of the night, but was the most beautiful word he had ever heard. His groin throbbed at the word, his name... “Say it again...” he murmured, scared that if he said it too loud, he’d wake from this dream.

“Maso-“ she was cut off from him scooping her up, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist and tangling his hand in her hair, pausing just millimeters from her lips. “Tell me yes Kitten. I need to hear it.”

“Mason... yes. Yes yes yes.”

#lily black #mason fallout 4 #OC asks

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sailorbellewrites · 5 years ago

Text

No Limit

characters— seokjin x reader (ft. members of bts)

summary— you and jungkook don’t even look alike. how was seokjin supposed to know you were off limits?

information— one shot. bakery!au. features less puns than you would think. i am still very new to writing smut, so be kind in that regard. if this gets a lot of love, might be continued in the future.

warnings—adult language; smut; mild violence; awkward situations; super hopeless seokjin.

no limit—

So it starts like this:

Jungkook has been talking about his older sister moving to Seoul for a couple of weeks now and Seokjin doesn’t really believe him because in the 2 years that he’s known the college senior, he’s never mentioned having a sister, just an older brother. The young man only has pictures of his mom hung up in his apartment and all requests to see what the girl looks like have been met with a stern shake of his head. Taehyung has never seen the girl either, says Jungkook doesn’t like to talk about her and he doesn’t know why. He’s heard the girl over the phone though and says she sounds, “cute.” And while Namjoon is certainly right in saying it would be weird for Jungkook to make up having a sister, Seokjin thinks Jungkook is just a weird enough person to do it.

“She’s coming today, hyung,” Jungkook says one Wednesday afternoon, too much energy radiating off of him. He’s dressed much nicer that normal, no holes in his jeans and a long sleeved shirt covering most of his tattoos. He even got a haircut, something he hadn’t had in a while. Jungkook can’t stand still, constantly wiping down the counters and rearranging the cupcakes in the display case. Seokjin gets so sick of his constant movement that he sends him to the kitchen to knead dough. “Okay, but hyung, if she comes in you have to let me know.”

“I don’t know what she looks like.”

He sighs deep, the sound almost morphing into a whine. “She’s probably gonna be wearing something bright or she’ll just ask for me! Seokjin please!”

“Fine, fine. Now get to the back, you’re making everyone uncomfortable. You’re gonna make me go outta business.”

When you walk in wearing a bright red coat, Seokjin doesn’t make the connection. You look around the shop for a bit and Seokjin is stunned because goddamn you’re beautiful. It’s like a movie, the white lights of the shop forming a halo around you and everything slows to a crawl. You make it to the register, eyes widening at the chocolate donut pyramid displayed behind Seokjin and he knows he’s fucked. “Hi,” you say and, yup, Seokjin is super fucked.

“I... Hi-I mean… Welcome to Baking News! How can I bake your day?” And the recovery isn’t as smooth as he would have liked it to be, but you still laugh way too hard at the puns and his heart swells.

“You’re funny,” you state earnestly. “I’m actually not here to buy anything, though. I’m looking for my brother.”

“Your brother?” Seokjin asks dumbfounded, because he would definitely know if anybody worked for him that looked like you.

“Yeah! He’s tall and skinny. Oh and he has really big teeth. He kind of looks like a rabbit when he smiles.” All of the air leaves Seokjin’s lungs because there is no fucking way you are Jeon Jungkook’s sister. You guys look nothing alike—hell, it’s questionable if you're even from Korea, that’s how different you look. But then Jungkook comes scrambling out of the kitchen and over the counter screaming “Noona!” like he’s a character in a goddamn cartoon. And you wrap yourself around him like a python, hugging him so tight that his face turns red. “There’s my bunny boy,” you squeal and Jungkook plants a big sloppy kiss on your cheek and—

“Holy shit, he does have a sister.”

Okay, so you’re not Jungkook’s real sister. He’s just weirdly obsessed with you and keeps calling you his sister, but you’re not his sister. At least that’s the conclusion Seokjin comes up with because you don’t have the same surname and you don’t look alike and you tell him that you haven’t lived in Korea in over five years. You share that tidbit of information over coffee two weeks after your arrival, pink scarf wrapped gently around your neck in a way that Seokjin deems more flattering than it should be. You share a lot of information with him in the time that you’ve been back, always coming into the bakery to get the first sugary treat you can get your hands on.

“Bunny boy tells me you make the best lattes this side of Seoul,” you tell him one rainy Thursday morning, leaned up against the counter. The bakery is empty except for you two, the usual morning rush having filtered out quickly due to the inclemete weather. Seokjin snorts because you always call Jungkook ‘bunny boy,’ even on days like today when he’s not here and it’s so cute the way the words come out of your mouth. They tumble out so effortlessly, whereas Seokjin can’t go two minutes without stuttering over himself while talking to you. So he just snorts because it’s easier to make sounds than it is to form words when you’re staring up at him like he’s the most interesting man in the world. “Is it true, Jinnie?”

“Jinnie?” He asks incredulously, because you’ve never called him anything other than Seokjin.

“Cute name for a cute boy,” you say with a shrug, as if it’s obvious. It’s not

His mouth is moving before he can stop it. “Cute? You think I’m cute? Just cute?”

“Yeah, why?” You chirp out with a sly smirk. Seokjin’s heart stops—but his mouth does not.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not just cute. I’m handsome. In fact, I’m one of the most handsome men in the world. Have you ever seen a face more handsome than mine? More beautiful than mine? I know you lived abroad for a while and have seen a lot of attractive men walking around, but I promise you that this face right here is better. This face should be on billboards all over the world.” This isn’t the first time that Seokjin’s gone off on this tangent, of course. Everyone has heard it before, taking the comedy bravado for what it is and laughing him off. But when he says it to you, it feels like he’s marketing himself. He doesn’t want you to laugh him off. He wants you to believe him.

Your head lolls to the side as he speaks, as though you are fully taking his words into consideration, and when he finishes, you grin. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Worldwide Handsome, do you really make the best lattes?” And Seokjin’s heart starts to constrict because even though your tone is teasing, your eyes are so sincere. He nods. You laugh. He’s fucked.

But he’s even more fucked because he can’t act on his attraction. Jungkook is scarily protective of you. He always seems to know where you are and who you’re with. He glares at any guy who looks at you for more than 10 seconds and shoves his hoodies over you if you’re showing too much skin. You mention downloading Tinder one Wednesday evening and the younger man nearly passes out. However, everyone’s accusations of him having a crush on you were met with immediate disgust because you’re his “sister.” In fact, he claimed on multiple occasions that you were the most despicable human being he’s ever met. “I pray that whoever I end up with is the exact opposite of my sister,” he mumbled one Sunday afternoon, frosting cupcakes in the kitchen. “She’s so fucking annoying. She doesn’t listen to anyone, no matter what they say. I don’t see how anyone could be attracted to her.”

“Ah, I don’t know man, I think she’s pretty cute.” Taehyung responded in jest, setting the completed cupcakes on a display pan.

“Stay the hell away from my sister you creep.” Jungkook all but growled out.

“Wow, the baby sounds serious,” Seokjin stated incredulously. “I didn’t know you could care about anyone other than yourself.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook replied, slightly embarrassed at being called out yet again for his so called selfish behavior. “She may be the worst woman I know, but she’s still my sister. I gotta make sure she’s well taken care of.”

“And you think I won’t do that?” Taehyung asked with faux shock. “I’m hurt.”

“Not a single one of you are good enough for my sister. She needs a doctor or a lawyer or someone super rich who can take care of her so she never has to work again. You guys all suck.” He stands up straight to admire his work before stating, with a frightening amount of cool, “If any of you guys tried it with her, I would kill you with my bare hands.”

So Seokjin tries his best to stay away from you. He attempts to keep his banter light, lessen his affection. He hopes to himself that you lose interest in the bakery, in the coffee, in him, but it’s difficult. You’re so easy to talk to. You think he’s funny, cracking up at all of his puns to the point of tears. When he winks at you, you smile so wide that he thinks your face might break. He falls harder for you every day.

It’s you that makes the first move though. It’s a balmy Friday night when you stalk in. Thirty minutes before closing, the bakery is empty except for two struggling rappers who loaded up on the discounted pastries that would otherwise get thrown away. You’re dressed up more than he’s ever seen you before, so much so that you look out of place standing next to the pastel pink sign touting the new peanut butter tira-miss-yous in your purple dress. “Well if it isn’t my favorite customer. What are you doing here so late at night?” Seokjin asks as you continue towards the counter.

“Bad date.” You mutter, before surprising Seokjin by pulling yourself up on top of the counter.

“Hey, who said you could sit up here? Didn’t anyone raise you with respect? That’s filthy! My sweets go up here.”

“I’m sweeter,” You quip and Seokjin chokes. You shift your body to face him a bit more. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Y-you—you can’t—Jungkook was right, you are disgusting.” He manages to stutter out, mind reeling at the thought of how sweet you actually were. “I have to clean that now. Get down.”

You ignore his request. “A pretty girl throws herself on a table in front of you talking about how sweet she is and you’re worried about cleanliness? Taehyung was right, you really are hopeless.”

He blanches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sigh, unmoving. “So bunny boy sets me up on this date right? He says it’s with one of his good friends who really inspires him. Someone that has helped him out a lot. I get excited because I think that it’s you. I mean, you literally gave him a job. How much more help can he get from one person? So I get all dressed up and ready to go only to have someone else show up at my door. And don’t get me wrong, the guy was attractive but he wasn’t you. He didn’t even make a single pun the entire time when there were plenty of opportunities to do so. He was so boring, Jinnie. Like, what do business lawyers really do anyways? The guy told me he hoped I had a good time, but I didn’t. So I decided to come here looking for an actual good time.”

“I… what?” Seokjin asks, unable to accept what you were implying.

“Oh my god, hyung, she likes you!” One of the rappers screams out from his table near the window. “Stop being dense.”

“I’m not—” Seokjin begins to yell back, but you cut him off.

“Jin, would you like to see a movie with me tomorrow night?”

When he looks at you, he sees a hopeful expression. He imagines closing up the bakery early and walking with you to the movie theater. He imagines what kind of snacks you’ll like and wonders if you’ll share them with him. He imagines wrapping his arm around you and how well you’d fit next to him. He imagines pressing his lips against yours in the dark, tongues wrestling against each other as his hands traveled down your body. He gulps. “Uh… yeah. I’d really like that.”

Seokjin’s not good at being in a relationship. He’s had a lot of toxic relationships in the past, with a lot of cheating and mental stress. He’s spent the last three years filling the void with a lot of meaningless sex. On more than one occasion, former friends with benefits came storming into the bakery to scold him for his lack of commitment. He focused on himself a lot; on getting through culinary school, on perfecting his skills in the oven, on opening his own shop. He tells you as much on the fourth date, hand wrapped tightly around your own as you walk through a flower garden. You listen intently, nodding your head and adding “ohs” and “ahs” when appropriate. Then you sit him on a bench and kiss him hard, tongue dragging against the roof of his mouth before whispering against his lips, “I don’t care. I like you anyway.”

Seokjin is happy with you. He smiles for no reason during the day, sings louder in the kitchen when frosting cakes, cusses less when the chocolate doesn’t temper or the cookies burn. He feels lighter, knowing that come closing time he can be wrapped up in you. His friends notice too. Namjoon teases him about how much more cheerful he is, while Taehyung and Jungkook pry for more information. He offers them none, much to their chagrin. He wants to keep you to himself, afraid that if the others find out, they’ll ruin it for him. Especially Jungkook—though he thinks about the other man’s disapproval less and less as he spends more and more time with you.

The relationship progresses slowly. You go on a lot of dates, whispering in the back of movie theaters and stealing small kisses on street corners. Seokjin likes to hold your hand. He marvels at the way it fits in his own, how easily you are able to slide your finger through his as you talk about work or travel or a memory from your childhood. Seokjin likes to hear you laugh. You think he’s the funniest person you’ve ever met. He’s gone through a rolodex of puns to try and hear the bubbling sound that spills out of you. You laughed the hardest on the 7th date, plastic gun slipping from your grip at an arcade, when Seokjin tells you he wrote a dessertation on Sweetzerland in culinary school. You hug him tight, face pressed against his chest as you continue to giggle at his words. He thinks you fit well there.

You don’t sleep together until three months in—an eternity for Seokjin. He’s never had to wait that long, but he finds it hard to argue when you whisper, “not tonight,” in his ear. He always agrees, calming himself enough to make it through the rest of the date. He ends up jacking off to thoughts of how you taste in the shower. You’re the biggest tease when it comes to that—your taste. The casualness with which you insist that you are sweeter than any dessert he’s ever made always leaves him drooling. Eating girls out was never his favorite sexual act, but he thinks you’ll change that.

“You can’t—you can’t just say those sort of things!” He yelled at you once, during your tenth date at a sushi restaurant. The waiter threw him a dirty look, as did a much younger couple seated next to you. He’s always louder than he needs to be, but you’re the only person he’s dated who never complained. Instead, you rolled your eyes at him and swallow your food.

“Why not?”

“We’re in public.”

“I didn’t say anything bad.”

“Don’t lie. Don’t pretend that you’re innocent! I can hear you. I have perfect hearing. Doctor’s everywhere are impressed by it. You can’t get those filthy words past me.” He berated, making you giggle.

You slid your hand over the table to grab his, kissing the back of it gently. He can’t help but blush. “Don’t be silly, Jin. I never said what part of me tastes better than strawberries, just that some part of me does.”

“Which part then?”

“Why? You want to try it for yourself?” He threw his head back with an annoyed groan at your words, making you laugh even louder. The couple shushed you both, yet again, shaking their heads as though you two are the immature ones in that situation.

When it finally does happen, much like the first date, it’s on your terms. You’re sitting in his apartment, legs thrown over his lap as you listen to him complain about a mom who ordered a cake of a whale for her son’s 8th birthday only to show up expecting a Beluga whale and not a Killer whale like Taehyung had decorated. Suddenly you sit up, arms coming out to grab Seokjin’s face as you set a soft kiss on his lips. Then a second. Then a third. With the fourth, you up the intensity by slipping your tongue into his mouth. He shuffles his body slowly between your legs, refusing to let your lips part as he hovers on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down as you grind your center directly where his dick sits in his jeans.

These types of makeout sessions have happened before; often right before you need to catch the train or bus back home. You always pull away after 15 minutes or so; that’s why Seokjin freezes when you whisper against his lips, “Do you wanna taste me?” He can’t formulate words. He’s thought about this moment for weeks now; planned a response for everything you could possibly say, but he’s coming up short. He’s sure he looks crazy, eyes bulging from his head. “Jinnie, say something.”

“A-are you… are you serious?” He manages to stutter out.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t—”

“Oh my god, take off your pants right now,” he yells in excitement, sitting up on his knees. Your laughter rips through the air as he fumbles with the button of your jeans, shaky hands pulling them down your thighs until they get caught at your knees. He huffs in annoyance, lifting your legs himself to get the now offensive fabric away from you. As soon as the jeans hit the floor, Seokjin drops down to his stomach between your thighs. You open your legs with a content sigh, making him wonder if you’ve been waiting for this moment as long as he has. He drags his lips lightly over your thighs before placing a kiss on the crotch of your panties. You shudder. He chuckles. “Promise you’re as sweet as candy?” He asks, voice unintentionally deepening as he comes closer to his target.

“Pinky swear,” you whisper. Taking this as his cue to move forward, Seokjin’s fingers gently ghost over the black fabric of your underwear before pulling the crotch to the side and exposing your core to the cool air. He takes in the fluid shapes and subtle wetness already gathering on your folds in awe, shocking himself with all the ways he could still find you beautiful. Closing the last bit of distance between you, he takes a tentative lick from the bottom of your slit to the top, the firm tip of his tongue pressing against your clit in the process. The action causes you to rock up, hands settling at the top of his head. “Fuck,” you whisper gently, the breathy sound going straight to his cock. He repeats the act once more, though this time his lips around your tender bud and he gives it a light suck. Your fingers thread through his hair tightly, guttural moan exiting your throat. Pride swells in Seokjin’s chest—he’s the reason you’re making those sounds.

“Jesus babe,” he murmurs, leaving open mouthed kisses on your thigh, “you’re even sweeter than candy.” You let an amused breath at his words, any laughter that would have bubbled up dying as those kisses reached your lower lips. “Can I take these off?” Seokjin asks, pulling further at your panties.

“Please.” With a bit more confidence than before, he moves to take your panties off completely. As he settles back down between your thighs, he sneaks a peek at you. You’ve relaxed back down on the couch, head leaned back on the armrest although your eyes never leave him. “Jin, please,” you whimper. Your words spur him on and he dives face first in your pussy, tongue working itself deep in and around your core. Soft whimpers turn to loud moans as he continues, only motivating him further. The need to make you cum becomes his only goal. “Fuck Jin, so goo—oh!” You moan out, jumping in shock when you feel his thick finger press against your entrance.

“Can I?” He asks, lifting his head up for confirmation that he can continue. With your rapid nods, he presses his index finger into you, sighing as he feels warm walls flutter and constrict around him. Then, as if another force has taken over his body, Seokjin surges his whole body forward to kiss you while he thrusts his finger at a steady pace. You readily welcome his lips against your own, not minding the taste of yourself against his tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Do you—fuck you are tight—baby… think you can cum like this?” He asks between kisses, your hips starting to buck into his hand. You mumble out an affirmative, pressing yourself closer to him.

He loses track of himself in the moment, one finger becoming two, thumb circling your clit, lips sucking bruises into your neck as you start to make desperate pleas in his ear for more, more, more. You give no warning when your orgasm hits you, just tensing up against him as your walls clamp down hard against his fingers. He litters your face with small pecks as he works you through it, fingers slowing only when he feels you begin to come down from your high.

“Jesus Jin, you’re really good at that,” you remark in a small voice as he removes his fingers from inside you, aftershocks continuing to rock your body.

He can’t help the cheshire grin that settles onto his face as he lifts himself off of you to get a good look at your fucked out form; your eyes are so dilated that they are nearly black, sweat sits at the edge of your scalp and brows, and your shirt is bunched up around your chest. He wants to kiss you again, wants to feel your legs wrapped around his waist, wants to feel everything you have to give and then some. “Baby,” he starts, suddenly feeling constricted by all the clothes he is wearing and how hot the room has gotten, “I could eat your pussy for hours on end, but I am so fucking hard right now. Please don’t leave me hanging.”

“Fuck that’s hot… do you have a condom?”

“Bedroom, bedroom, bedroom right now, come on!” Seokjin shouts, jumping up and pulling you off the couch with him, leading you through the short hallway to where he sleeps nightly. It’s a flurry of movement between the both of you, hands making bold passes over newly uncovered body parts as all remaining forms of clothing are removed. He lets an uncharacteristically animalistic growl when you finally wrap a hand around dick, moving it up and down at a near glacial pace. “Faster,” he finds himself begging, breathing harder when you comply with his request. He lets it go on for a while further before he gently pushes you on your back underneath him, hand digging in the drawer of his bedside table as he searches for the pack of condoms he knows is there. However, his movements stop and his mind goes blank when he feels you reach a hand for his cock again and grind his sensitive tip between your still soaked lips. He’s reeling, knowing he could slip right in if he wanted to, if you let him, despite how irresponsible it would be.

“Seokjin, condom! Hurry up!” You whine out, as if seeing his internal dilemma. Your other hand claws at his chest to further get his attention, snapping him out of his reverie and back into action.

When he finally locates a condom, he’s nearly rabid. He tears at the package and slips it on with such roughness that a small part of him worries he might break it. The bigger part of him, however, is focused on how delicious you look underneath him and how delicious your pussy will feel around him. He lets out a small huff when he finally gets the condom on, lining himself up with your entrance. He wants to take his time, wants to tease you a bit, but it takes one drag of the head of his cock against your slit for him to forget about all of that. He pushes inside of you slowly, warm walls clenching around him when he’s fully seated inside of you.

It goes by faster than expected. Your body accepts him so easily, like it was made for him. You suck him back in each time he pulls out. You tilt your hips up when he begins to thrust harder, eyes rolling to the back of your head each time his hips meet your thighs. His hands roam the expanse of your body, gently squeezing areas that are softer than he expected and running blunt nails against your sternum before one of them snakes behind your neck and pulls you up to meet him for a sloppy kiss. It’s messy, more tongue than lips and it makes you clench even tighter than before. Seokjin’s not sure if you’re close, but he knows he damn sure is.

“Honey I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” He bites out, slowing down slightly as he lays you back down.

“Then cum,” you whimper back, though it sounds much more like an order. Hitching your legs up on his waist, Seokjin uses the last bit of energy he has to drill into you, chasing his orgasm until it crashes over him like a tidal wave. It’s the most pleasure he’s felt in months. All of his senses are overloaded as he cums, pressing deep inside of you. His hips stutter slightly as he milks himself to completion, feeling even more content when you run your fingers up and down his arms slowly.

It’s that sweet gesture that brings him back down to earth. He takes his time removing himself from you, unsure if he wants to leave now that he knows exactly what you feel like. Placing your legs off of his hips and shuffling off of the bed to throw away the condom, he quickly returns and flops on his back next to you.

“We gotta—we have got to do that again.” Seokjin finally breathes out, heart still racing. You curl up beside him, skin sticking to his own in a way that disgusts him slightly; yet, he still pulls you closer. “I didn’t make you cum.”

“You made me cum once.”

“But not on my dick.”

“I still enjoyed myself.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s an honor thing. You have to cum on more than my fingers.”

“Like right now? Or—”

“Don’t joke like that. My dick can’t handle it.” You giggle at his words and he feels something rising up in his chest that he can’t identify. Despite hearing all of your moans, whimpers, and whines for the past hour, he still thinks your laughter is the best sound in the world.

And later, when you start to drift off on his lap during a 90s movie marathon, Seokjin whispers promises into your skin that he’s never made before. You don’t say if you hear them, but relax further in his embrace.

“Oh this kid looks just like Jungkook.” Seokjin says one evening, sitting on the bed in your apartment. It’s the first time you’ve invited him in, having asked if he would spend the night because the bakery opens later on Saturdays and you want to sleep in with him. It’s such a cute request he can’t deny it. He thinks you’re so cute that it’s getting hard for him to deny you at all. He worries it will become a problem later, but he doesn’t dwell on it when your whole face lights up with happiness. Your apartment is quaint, with big white walls covered in pictures and knick knacks from your various adventures overseas. You float around the bedroom grabbing things for Seokjin—towels, extra pillows, a spare toothbrush—and laugh at him. “What’s so funny, huh?”

“That is Kook.”

“Really?” He takes the framed picture from your nightstand and looks at it more closely. It’s for sure you in the picture, just much younger. You sport messy hair and large t-shirt combo that would be embarrassing to most, but you’re holding on to a much smaller and skinnier kid with such excitement that it just reads as adorable. “Wow, you guys have really known each other for a long time.”

You let out an airy laugh of disbelief, placing the things on a chair placed in the corner of the room. “Since he was born.”

“Oh, so that’s why he calls you his sister,” Seokjin starts with a nod of understanding. “I thought he just had a crush on you or something. I didn’t realize that you’ve known him for so long. Your families must be really close right?”

You laugh again, but the tone is off. Seokjin catches it, but you’re crawling on the bed next to him and wrapping an arm around his back before he can question it. “Baby,” you start, voice light but edging on serious, “you know I’m actually bunny boy’s sister right? Like we’re really related. His family is my family.”

It’s a gut punch, hearing those words come out of your mouth. He isn’t sure how to process and he’s sure he looks like a fish as his mouth opens and closes as he tries to find something to say. He settles on, “What?”

“Jungkook is my little brother.”

“But you guys don’t even look alike.” He responds, feeling his brain short circuit. “You literally couldn’t be more different. And you guys don’t even have the same names. You can’t—it doesn’t…”

You sigh, unwrapping your arms from around him while shaking your head. “It’s complicated.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well for starters, we’re not blood related at all.”

“So you’re not siblings then?” Seokjin asks incredulously, because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Biologically no,” you stress, grabbing the picture out of his hands. There are red indentations on his palms from where he was squeezing it so tight. “But, legally speaking, we are siblings. All the paperwork I have will tell you I’m part of his family. But more than that, all of us were raised together as brother, brother, and sister.”

It really is a complicated story, Seokjin thinks as you explain your family history to him. Friends of friends, broken trust, being in the right place at the right time, and international trips brought you into the Jeon family. You never looked at Jungkook as anything other than family; Jungkook never knew you as anything other than his sister, biology be damned. “He never talked about you though,” Seokjin admits, head pounding from information overload. “Like ever. He only ever mentioned his—well your—brother.”

You roll your eyes at this information, but don’t seem surprised. “He was mad at me for a long time. He thought it was stupid that I left to try and reconnect with my bio family. Do you know he can hold a grudge for a really long time? He wouldn’t answer my phone calls for a year after I first left.” You let out a small sigh, flopping back on your bed. “We only really just got back to a good place. I think that’s why he’s been so clingy lately.”

Seokjin squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. “Ugh, Kook is really gonna kill me,” He mumbles, laying down beside you.

“Why would he do that?” You whisper, moving your body to curl into him. “He’s the reason I started dating you in the first place.”

“What are you even talking about?” Seokjin groans out. “Don’t say false things just to comfort me. It won’t work.”

“I’m serious. He’s like your biggest fan. He talks about you all the time. Hearing and seeing how much you cared for him meant a lot to me. It made me like you for more than just your looks. I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself in front of you so many times if I thought you were a bad guy.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Seokjin hums mindlessly, thoughts still a jumbled mess in his head from all the information he has received. One thing sticks out in his mind though. He turns his head to lay a soft peck on your forehead. “You know you never embarrassed yourself in front of me, right?”

“What are you talking about? I practically begged you to take me on a date.”

“You saved me from myself. I embarrassed myself way more. I could barely talk to you without becoming a mess and tripping over all my words.”

“I wouldn’t want you any other way. You’re my mess.”

“Oh my god, Jungkook was wrong. You’re the best woman in the whole wide world and you're all mine, mine, mine!”

“Kim Seokjin, you motherfucker—” Here’s the thing, Jungkook is Seokjin’s youngest friend. He plays the role of the baby well, to the point where Seokjin feels as though he’s raised him. It’s so easy to forget that Jungkook is not as young as he acts; he’s always so kind and affectionate. He’s also the hardest worker at the bakery, always coming in early and staying late to make sure everything is finished. However, the boy was so much stronger than he looked. He worked out 6 days a week for fun and described getting tattoos as a pleasurable experience. Of course he would be able to pick Seokjin up and pin him against the wall by his throat.

“Woah, woah, woah, calm down!” Namjoon shouts, running up to try and pull the younger man away. Jungkook does not relent, fighting against his friend to continue to try and choke Seokjin. “Kook, listen man! This is not the way to handle this!”

“He fucked my sister!” He screams and the accusation sounds so much worse coming out of Jungkook’s mouth, especially because it’s true. Except there is so much more than fucking that’s going on, but he can’t get the words out of his mouth to say that through Jungkook’s yells. “Thought I wouldn’t find out? Thought she would keep it a secret?” He spits out, still struggling against Namjoon.

“It’s not like that—” Seokjin begins, voice smaller than he anticipated, but Jungkook cuts him off.

“Bullshit!” Jungkook screams, voice cracking with rage. “I know you. I know how you are. You think you can just use my sister to get off?”

Now it’s Seokjin’s turn to be angry, with the thought of anyone only being with you for your body making him see red. “Do you really think I’m like that? You really think that I would hurt her like that?”

“Never stopped you before,” Jungkook responds sarcastically. “What did the last girl say again? Jin just wants a human fucktoy.” Seokjin winces at the words he once found humorous. The girl, a pretty florist he met at a bar, came in with the intent to tear him to shreds. She was met with indifference and laughter. He never realized how quickly her words would come back to haunt him. “You think my sister is a human fucktoy? Is that what it is?”

“Shut up,” Seokjin barks out, unable to think of you in that way.

But Jungkook is no longer fighting against Namjoon, content with his words bringing the pain. “You’re not good enough for her. You’ll never be good enough for her. I’ll kill you before I ever let you treat my sister like one of your whores.”

“That’s enough,” Namjoon orders, frustration painting his features. “This isn’t going to solve anything. Jungkook, you should leave.”

Jungkook scoffs, pushing Namjoon away from him. “You’re on his side,” he accuses, pain in his voice, “You think it’s okay that he’s fucking my sister.”

“I don’t think anything,” Namjoon stresses. “But fighting in our place of business is not smart. People can hear us out there and whether you like it or not, your outburst is gonna affect more than just Jin. This can be dealt with later.”

Jungkook is quiet, though he trembles with anger. Seokjin wonders, briefly, if the man will swing on Namjoon. However, Jungkook just shakes his head and states, “Fuck your business. I quit.”

“Are you going to fire him?” You ask over the phone that night, worry evident in your voice. You canceled your date upon finding out what your brother did. You told him good faith when he tried to set you up another date with a doctor he knew, hoping he would be happy for you. He was not. You said you had to talk to him, make sure you understood where he was coming from before you passed judgement. He was your brother after all.

Seokjin wants to laugh. He can’t. He’s miserable. He wants all of this to end, but he doesn’t want his relationship with you to end. He’s tired. “I can’t fire someone who quit.”

“He didn’t mean it. He’s going to apologize to you.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

But two days later, he finds you standing at his apartment door, Jungkook behind you looking at the ceiling in avoidance. Seokjin fights against his urge to hug you, to bury his face in the crook of your neck and plant a wet kiss against the skin that leaves you squirming and pushing him away from being, “gross!” He stares at you silently, but you smile at him like nothing is wrong. “Can we come in?” You ask sweetly, stepping in at Seokjin’s nod. Jungkook doesn’t move an inch, making you scowl. You turn to face the man Seokjin now knows as your brother and snap, “Get in here right now.”

The man obeys you, stepping inside of the apartment and shutting the door behind him. No one makes a move. Seokjin wants to choke on the tension. Finally, Jungkook lets out a deep breath and states, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You say with a leading tone.

Jungkook clenches his fist, jaw tightening. “I’m sorry for choking you in the bakery. It was unprofessional of me to do so.”

“And?” You continue. Jungkook closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Jungkook!” You shout, causing the man to flinch, yet his silence continues. Seokjin watches in amazement as you reach your hand up to grab the younger boy’s ear and tug hard. Jungkook howls in pain, trying to pry your fingers away. You don’t let up. “I don’t care about your pride or your protection. You are going to apologize to Jin properly right now!” Jungkook whines loudly. You twist your fingers and the boy’s knees buckle. The scary beast who pinned Seokjin against the wall was gone. In his place was a child, weak and subdued. He wants to laugh, but doesn’t. He’s sure that if he does, it will come back to haunt him later.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it.” Jungkook screams out. With a final pull, you let go. Jungkook rubs his ear lightly and huffs, glaring at you. You return his stare. With another sigh, he turns back to Seokjin and states, “I crossed the line. I shouldn’t have hit you or said those things. It was wrong… but—”

“No buts!” You shout out, hand reaching up again. Jungkook catches it and grasps it tightly in his own hand. He shushes you with a look that says more than Seokjin could ever guess. He drops your hand and you let it rest at your side with a sigh.

“Can you leave?” Jungkook asks you. “I just want to talk to him alone. I won’t—I will not put my hands on him. I promise.” There is a sincerity in his tone that Seokjin has not heard in a while. It gives him hope.

Your head rolls back and forth, as if weighing out your options before stating, “Ten minutes, Kook. You hear me? Ten. And if he tells me you so much as even threaten him, you’ll have a whole lot more to be worried about than your ear!” At his aggressive nod of understanding, you turn to Seokjin. “I’ll be right back, okay?” You state, before leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek. Seokjin notices the way Jungkook’s jaw tenses at the open display of affection. With one more stern look to your brother, you exit the apartment.

There is a beat of silence before Seokjin suggests they sit down in the living room. It’s awkward. Jungkook has been in this room before, even passed out there a time or two; but he’s as stiff as a board when he sits on the couch. He refuses to look at Seokjin, eyes trained on the coffee table in front of him. His breaths are measured and he opens and closes his mouth a few times as he decides what to say.

Finally, he speaks. “You don’t seem to understand that she’s my sister. My only sister, Jin.”

“I understand th—”

“You don’t. You don’t understand. I know I’m younger and you think I act like a kid, but I’m not. Not with her. I’ve spent my whole life protecting her. People always try to take advantage of her because… I don’t know. So many reasons.” Jungkook stops, struggling for words. He takes another deep breath and finally looks at Seokjin. “When we were younger, boys would bully her for being adopted. She would act like it didn’t bother her, but I could see that it did. I must have got into twenty fights making sure they kept their mouth shut when it came to her. After everyone, whether I won or lost, she would always be happier. And that was all that mattered. When she moved away I was so angry because who was going to protect her out there? Her bio family is shit. They never wanted anything to do with her. Then she started dating this guy who cheated on her and I couldn’t even get to him and I—” He stops again, having worked himself up. “I want her to be happy, okay? I don’t want her to be sad anymore.”

Seokjin is shocked. He’s never heard Jungkook speak so seriously and with so much passion. His eyes are glassy, tears clearly threatening to spill over. He looks ragged. There are dark circles under his eyes. He’s not even holding himself up properly anymore, body limp in the seat. It’s clear this has been weighing on the boy and Seokjin feels a wave of guilt wash over him. This isn’t what he wanted to happen at all.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin states, breaking the silence, “For not telling you. For letting it get this far. As your boss—no, as your friend, I should have let you know.” Jungkook nods, swiping at his eyes roughly. “I do… I do care about her a lot. I don’t look at her like… if I only wanted her for sex, I would have stayed away.”

“Do you… do you love her?”

“I…” Seokjin hesitates. He’s never thought about it really, loving you. He’s never even thought about love in general. For years, he didn’t think he was capable of loving someone romantically. But when he’s with you, everything feels like it’s in its proper place. “I think—I do. ”

Jungkook hums in response, throwing his head back on the couch and really relaxing for the first time since he stepped through the door. “She loves you too,” Jungkook says as though it's a hard fact. Seokjin feels his throat tighten at his words. It’s been a long time since he’s been loved. “Like a lot. That’s the only reason I’m here… ”

“I won’t hurt her.” Seokjin says adamantly, hoping he sounds as sincere as he is.

“You better not.” He mutters. There is another beat of silence before Jungkook meekly asks, “Can I get my job back?”

“Ask Namjoon.”

“Fuck!”

So it ends like this:

After many apologies, Jungkook gets his job back. He’s put on samples duty for a month, standing outside of the bakery with a new pun-filled sign wrapped around his neck everyday. He hates it, especially when you show up to snap a picture and post it on your Instagram. Namjoon reposts one of them on the Baking News SEOUL account and it becomes the most liked picture on the whole page. You and Seokjin howl with laughter when you see the numbers, much to Jungkook’s annoyance. He still doesn’t approve of the relationship—at least, not completely. He rolls his eyes every time he sees a kiss or a hug; he insists you don’t stay in the bakery long, shoving you out of the door after five minutes because he’s sick of seeing you flirting with his boss; he scoffs when you come in more dressed up than usual for date nights. Yet, he makes sure Seokjin knows what types of flowers you like getting on your birthday and what your ring size is, “because that’s information you’ll need sooner or later.”

On Sundays, Seokjin closes the bakery early and brings you to the kitchen. He stands behind you, hand on your hip as he instructs you on how to ice the practice cakes he baked for you earlier. He knows you won’t do it perfectly, knows you’ll eventually dip a finger in the frosting to try it for yourself, knows you’ll try to get him to do the same and put some on his face when he refuses. It might start a food fight that will take too long to clean up; might make him bend you over the counter and fuck you until your moans reverberate off of the walls. Regardless, it always ends with you kissing him all over his face, exchanging soft “I love yous” until you’re ready to go home. Seokjin thinks he’s okay with both scenarios; thinks he’ll be okay with both for a long time.

#seokjin senarios #bts scenarios #jin scenarios #kim seokjin #namjoon #taehyung #jungkook #this took forever #goodness gracious #sailor belle writes #seokjin smut #jin smut #bts smut #au: baking news

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amariaamaris · 4 years ago

Text

Of Revelations and Shattering Part 2

Here’s part 2 of what was originally called Bennett’s Saviors, let me know what you think and if there is anything you would like me to add/give more detail to!

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When Klaus gets back to the mansion he gathers the heaviest and warmest blankets he can find. Klaus Mikaelson - the so-called ‘big bad wolf’ - proceeds to wrap up Bonnie Bennet - the witch that almost killed him twice - with all of the blankets. He then moves onto getting the fire going so that it can heat up the whole room.

Right as Klaus turns to check out Bonnie a rumbling overtakes the whole house as her magic force field makes itself known. He looks around the room as it eventually calms. He allows his eyes to fall to Bonnies form (which is swallowed in blankets) and he takes note that her breathing and heartbeat seems to be getting better.

Klaus allows himself to just sit, watch, and listen to make sure that the little Bennett witch will survive. He doesn’t acknowledge his brothers until they make themselves known. Elijah by walking up and carefully putting his hand to Bonnie’s forehead. While Kol stopped to the side of Klaus and dropped his hand onto Klaus’s shoulder. “Well brother... I believe the little witch will survive. She will definitely awaken changed.” Elijah stands up and faces his younger brothers, “Yes, I do believe Miss Bennett will come back changed. Only time will tell whether the change is good or not.” Kol gives a humorous snort in response while Klaus mindlessly nods his head; his focus still on the young witch.

Klaus abruptly stands up and starts moving to leave, “And where are you going brother?” Kol’s question causing Klaus to pause. “I’m going to find a nurse or doctor to compel to come help with any physical needs. After all the little witch has been comatose for at least a week.” Klaus is gone soon after leaving Kol and Elijah to exchange humorous and contemplative looks.

-------

Soon after leaving, Klaus comes in with a dazed looking nurse who immediately goes to Bonnie and starts to take care of her physical needs. Kol barely looks up from the old Grimoire that he is reading, while Elijah looks up from his book and hands Klaus a glass of bourbon; who in turn gives a nod of thanks.

They all watch as the nurse sets up an IV drip full of fluids to keep the witch hydrated and give nutrients to her starved system. The nurse carefully holds Bonnie’s wrist to check her heartbeat and mindlessly nods when it come out to a good number. Carefully the nurse covers Bonnie in the blankets again and checks her temperature.

Then the nurse just quietly sits down on an open seat; her job being done for the moment. The Mikaelson brothers use different things to occupy their time; Kol with his Grimoire’s, Elijah with old books, and Klaus with drawing. They are perfectly at ease, Bonnies magic still in its protective mode. So, they don’t have to worry about anyone uninvited entering their house.

After three hours they hear their sisters voice yelling in aggravation. They immediately drop what they are doing and speed to where their sister is. The moment Kol sees Rebekah he starts laughing. “A sister dearest, why are you so angry? Were you not the one that said you would never come back?”

Rebekah lets out an angry huff, “Did you seriously find a witch to lock me out -- no, keep my off the property?! It’s good to know how you all really feel about me!”

Klaus chuckles a bit and shakes his head trying to hide his amused smirk. “Sister, we haven’t done anything to cause this. You just have to have no ill intent and you can come through. We’ll explain to you once you come inside.” Then he grabs a still cackling Kol and speeds back inside.

Leaving Rebekah to gape after them and finally turn towards Elijah with a flabbergasted look on her face. “Elijah...?” All Elijah does is adjust his cufflinks and lightly smile at his sister. “I can’t do anything to help you Rebekah, for once I am in agreeance with what Niklaus told you. We’ll see you inside.”

Then Elijah is gone leaving Rebekah standing outside of the Mikaelson property, so shocked that she is dead still as her brain tries to catch up with the information given. She scoffs as she throws her hands up in the air and walks closer to the forcefield. She puts her hand on it and quickly pulls it away with a hiss shaking out her hand as the angry red welts heal.

Rebekah clenches her jaw and mutters to herself, “This is bloody ridiculous... Fine!” She forces herself to breathe out and let any and all the hostility she is feeling go. Then Rebekah hesitantly steps forward and the shield wraps around her with a soft, healing, loving, and strong warmth. Rebekah can feel a shiver go through her entire body at the feeling and has to shake herself once she passes through.

She speeds herself inside to where her brothers voices are coming from. “Care to explain yourselves broth-- is that the Bennett witch?”

“Yes, sister it is... what gave it away?” Rebekah gives Kol a harsh glare that causes him to mockingly throw his hands up in a sign of peace. Elijah lets out an exasperated sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose at his younger siblings antics. He quickly explains the situation to Rebekah before Klaus can step in and make the situation worse. By the look on Klaus’s face, he knows exactly what Elijah’s true intentions are behind informing their darling sister of the situation (Elijah promptly and smoothly ignores his look).

Rebekah lets out a quite huh and looks to Bonnie’s tiny form still wrapped up in blankets. “Let me guess her rotten friends had no clue what was going on with her?” Rebekah can’t stop the scoff that escapes her, not that she was going to bother. “Of course they wouldn’t, they only bother with her when they need something from her. Bonnie Bennett deserves so much more than that, at least she was civil with me if not a little kind.” Rebekah can feel herself sneering at the thought of the rest of the scooby gang (bar Matt). “I have half the mind to kill the lot of them.” Her brothers could hear the dark violent intent in her voice and they all exchange uneasy looks.

Klaus goes to say something but Rebekah almost violently cuts him off before even a sound can escape him. “No! Nik, I don’t care if you fancy that dull blonde bimbo! I will kill her and that dull as a dishwasher doppelgänger. I still haven’t fully gotten payback for her stabbing me in the back! You don’t need those useless hybrids you have all of us! I want bloo-”

They barely see Klaus move before he is right in front of his sister with his hands firmly on her shoulders, but in a placating manner. “Rebekah! Calm yourself! Caroline was a passing fancy, I quickly lost interest in her.” He slowly drops his hands from her shoulders as Rebekah blinks in surprise, Klaus can practically feel his brothers surprise too (which he chooses to ignore).

“As for the doppelgänger, I no longer have a need for her blood. As much as I would love to kill the whole scooby gang for everything they have done... I do believe that the young Bennett witch should have a say in what happens to them. Or perhaps we could just take her away from this godforsaken town and never come back. I wouldn’t mind watching the town burn from the Salvatore's childish actions.”

Elijah steps in before his three younger siblings can start planning death and destruction. “Right now, we need to make sure that miss Bennett awakes and that she is completely healthy. We’ll have to make sure that she is stable with her magic. Miss Bennett’s hair happens to be completely white, we don’t know if that has something to do with her magic; her magic... well, we all have had run ins with how it is at the moment.”

Klaus’s eyes immediately flick to Bonnie and narrow upon seeing that she is shivering as her eyes flicker beneath the lids. He speeds over to her and crouches down next to her and intently listens to her breathing and heartrate. He frowns as he notices that her heartbeat is faster as well as her breathing. He goes to call for the compelled nurse, but is stopped by Ayana’s voice.

“My descendant is physically perfectly healthy, you can allow the nurse to go.” The Mikaelson siblings immediately move to face Ayana as she softly smiles at all of them. “Thank you for helping Bonnie. Right now she is in a comatose state allowing for her to see everything from a very different perspective, get her full potential of magic... and to learn just how connected she is to a certain person...” Ayana’s eyes flicker to Klaus and rest on him for a few moments, then she looks away.

Ayana walks towards Bonnie’s body and studies her for a few moments as the siblings silently watch on. “She’ll be awakening soon,” Ayana looks towards the siblings. “she will be in a state, you’ll want to give her space and try to help her calm down. I know that you have all lost the art of truly being able to comfort one another...” Ayana gives them all a soft, loving, understanding smile “Human touch can go a long way to help comfort, as long as its not crowding the person.”

Then she’s gone, leaving Rebekah reeling and the brothers all contemplating. Rebekah allows herself to collapse onto the couch behind her. While Klaus keeps watch over Bonnie, not even realizing that his wolf has come out in his eyes.

His siblings take notice right away and exchange knowing looks. That quickly turn to warning looks when they notice the mischief and amusement in Kol’s eyes. Kol just grins at them and before they can do anything else... a rumble takes over the whole house.

When it stops it feels as though all the air was sucked out of the room and it’s dead still. It causes all of the siblings to straighten and come to attention while Klaus closely watches Bonnie with sharp eyes. Then the feeling disappears as Bonnie shoots upwards with a sharp scream. That quickly tapers out into a whimper and hyperventilation as her magic starts wiping around. Bonnie barely has time to process that she is surrounded by Mikaelson’s before she's tightly wrapped up in Klaus’s arms.

She finds herself clutching tightly to his arms as she closes her eyes with tears running down her face. Everything she has learned and everything that Bonnie’s ancestors have shown her are running rampant in her mind. While her body feels like it is burning from the inside out from the amount of magic that is now inside of her. Her ears are ringing and she can’t seem to catch her breath, it feels as though she is being choked. Bonnie’s hands detach from Klaus arms as she starts to claw at her neck. She vaguely hears him say “Bloody hell!” then she is being wrestled into a different type of hold.

With her back against his chest and Klaus tightly holding her arms as it feels as though he wraps himself around her. He starts whispering calming words into her ear as he rocks her to help her get control of her breathing. His siblings watch on in shock and horror, they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

Bonnie, the strong Bennett witch that seemed to never falter or become scared. Had awoken and she is caught in a vicious panic attack causing her to claw at her throat. Rebekah looks worriedly at the small Bennett witch, mindlessly acknowledging that Klaus’s eyes are back to his wolf.

Bonnie knows that she should be fighting to get out of his embrace and away from all of the Mikaelsons… but for the first time in her life she truly feels safe. Even though she had just woken up from a how long coma? She could feel herself losing energy and quickly fading. The panic attack was taking a toll on her and against her will she could feel her eyes slowly fluttering to sleep. Bonnie feels her body go lax as she falls into a deep peaceful sleep. Not yet realizing that this sleep is meant to integrate the changes to her body, mind, soul, and powers.

All of the Mikaelson’s exchange shaken looks then Klaus moves Bonnie around in a way where he can bring her to his bedroom. He speeds off with her before any of them can question where he is taking her. Elijah turns toward the nurse, “You will not remember any of this, you took time off for yourself and had a wonderful time.” she repeats his words, gathers her things, and then leaves.

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Bonnie awakens in a room she has never seen before she feels a shock of fear run up her spine; causing her to freeze. As she looks around the room, everything comes back to her, her memories of why she is at the Mikaelson’s mansion, and everything that her ancestors showed her. Bonnie allows herself the time to get a hold of her breathing and relax herself. Once she finally calms, she slowly, carefully stands up from the unnaturally comfy bed.

Once she’s standing, Bonnie takes the time to really study the space that she is in and automatically takes notice that it has a much more masculine look to it. Everything is either dark or neutral tones, with a huge fireplace, big windows, and an oversized bathro--. Bonnie’s jaw drops as she walks into the bathroom. Who needs this big of a bathroom? It could fit Bonnie’s room and bathroom in it!

Right as she was about to turn to head back into the bedroom, Bonnie took notice of her body screaming for relief. She quickly rushed to the toilet and allowed herself to relax as her body found the relief it was screaming for. After Bonnie flushed and washed her hands she started to leave the bathroom.

She came to a quick halt and whipped around to face the mirror. The gasp that escaped her caused her to slap her hand over her mouth. Bonnie couldn’t believe her eyes! Her hair is white! Bonnie allowed herself to carefully touch it and run her fingers through it. As she watched herself touch her hair in the mirror she took notice of her eyes. The green in them looked even more otherworldly that they originally did. They look unnatural, Bonnie moves further away from the mirror to start looking at the rest of her body.

Nothing else seemed to have changed, everything physically was the same except for her hair and eyes. Her hair looks completely different and it’s not just because of the rapid color change... It looks wild, but Bonnie finds that she likes it that way... it matches her inner change perfectly; the same thing can be said for her eyes.

Bonnie lets out a quiet sigh as she walks back into the bedroom and as she once again look around at it. Bonnie gets a deep knowing inside of her that this is Klaus’s bedroom. Bonnie knows that it should bother her, but it doesn’t; not even a little bit. Bonnie slightly opens the blackout curtain just enough to look outside, after seeing that the sun it up she lets the curtain go. Bonnie sighs, knowing that she can’t hide in Klaus’s room any longer and she walks to the door.

Once she slips out and starts to make her way through the house, Bonnie quickly takes note of where the voices are coming from and quietly pads down the long spiral stairs. As Bonnie gets closer to the voices her padding turns into tiptoeing. She doesn’t know what she is supposed to say to the Mikaelson’s… should she thank them? Or should she apologize for doing the things that she did to them and helped the others do to them?

When she finally gets up the courage to walk into the room Bonnie is shocked to see all of them (except Kol) moving around each other and making what Bonnie assumes to be brunch. Klaus is the first to take notice of her (ever since he felt her wake up he has been hyper aware of her every move). “Little witch, good to see that your awake.” His words bring Elijah, Rebekah, and Kol to take notice of her.

Bonnie gives a wavering smile and goes to speak, but finds it come out as more of a croak. It causes Bonnie to cough at the unnatural feeling. Which also makes her take notice of the fact that 1. her throat is parched and 2. she has completely lost her voice. She reaches a hand up to rub her throat when she quickly drops it with a hiss of pain. Bonnie vaguely remembers taking notice of red welts on her neck, but she was to distracted by her hair and eyes to really take notice.

Bonnie is surprised by Klaus handing her a cup of water, which she carefully takes from him with a small smile of thanks. “Come now darling, how about you sit down. You seem to be swaying a bit little witchling.” Bonnie blinks a few times at Kol and then glares at him for his witchling comment, but she does sit down... three seats away from him. Causing Kol to give her a playful offended look, Bonnie starts a bit when Rebekah appears out of nowhere with a whiteboard and dry-erase markers.

“Miss Bennett, what all do you remember?” Bonnie’s eyes land on Elijah upon hearing the question. She studies him a bit and slowly drops her eyes to the whiteboard. Bonnie allows herself to marinate in all of the information in her head. She settles for uncapping the marker and simply writing EVERYTHING. She shows it to them causing them all to show different levels of acceptance through their body language.

Bonnie erases what she wrote and picks up the marker again. She can’t stop the uncomfortable fidgeting and hesitation in writing what she is feeling. The siblings notice her hesitation right away. “Love, just write what you are wanting to write. We aren’t in any place to judge you.” Bonnie’s eyes catch Klaus’s and she can feel a blush trying to work its way onto her face. She quickly looks back down at the whiteboard and her now white hair curtains her face. With her hair blocking them from looking at her face she quickly scribbles her question.

Did my friends even notice or care what was happening to be? DON’T LIE.

The look on the siblings faces reinforces everything she was shown. She can feel tears prick her eyes. Bonnie can feel a the hard lump in her throat return, the one that has been there since the supernatural bullshit started. She can also feel the fight or flight response trying to take over, but just like her emotions; she swallows the feeling down.

She misses the dark looks that come upon the Mikaelson’s faces as she focuses on erasing what she wrote. Bonnie takes a long drink from her water and takes that time to harden her resolve. She writes one last thing before she closes up the marker, grabs the class of water, and leaves the kitchen. Klaus reaches for the board to read what she wrote. What he reads causes him to clench his jaw so hard that he was sure a couple of his teeth broke. His siblings all have a bad feeling upon seeing his eyes go gold as his vampire visage ripples across his face.

He tosses the whiteboard on the kitchen table and is gone before either of his siblings can react. When they read what she wrote they all have varying reactions: Kol gets a wickedly violent look in his eyes, Elijah’s only physical reaction is his hands clenching, and Rebekah looks ready to slaughter someone or multiple someone's (the scooby gang minus Matt). The writing?

Keep them away from me, I don’t want to see any of them. I don’t care what you have to do, keep them away. I’m done.

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I hope you enjoyed! As always, constructive criticism is welcome! Let me know if you want a third part!

Peace, Love, and Joy!

#klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #bonnie bennett #rebekah mikaelson #hurtcomfort #protective mikaelsons

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