#so it feels more familiar to me despite Wanting to start including glasses from now on . | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 8 months ago

Text

Walking Corpses

Love Bites, Chapter 2 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Astarion's night spent searching for prey is interrupted by an unwelcome feeling of familiarity. Your life is derailed by recognizing a long-dead friend.

Word Count: 4,413 words

Warnings: largely 18+, mature language, switching perspectives, flashback/now in the timeline a majority of the story takes place, alcohol, reader is a bartender, Astarion luring people, a victim of Astarion's, non-descriptive non/dub-con (Astarion luring), Astarion's trauma, you remember things, Astarion trying to make the best of his shitty situation, Astarion has memory struggles

Note: Please make note of the dub-con content warning! If you're here, I'm assuming you know Astarion's past, so you know what that entails. This chapter has that, including Astarion's thought process in choosing a victim and how he lures them into sleeping with him. As always, please be mindful of your own comfort level while reading and take care of yourselves, loves!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion drummed his fingers against the rough wood of the table he sat at, a hardly-touched glass of wine in front of him. He was stretched languidly across two seats and garnering plenty of attention for it—but most of his onlookers were below his standards. If Cazador was going to demand to be fed nightly, and for Astarion to fetch his meals with his body, the elf was at least going to choose people worthy of his person.

He was, however, getting antsy. He’d already been in the tavern for too long. Several hours, at least, without moving much and dismissing anyone who looked at him for too long with his eyes when they didn’t suit his purposes.

Tonight was one of his “picky nights,” as he thought of them: nights when people he might normally go for to bring home to his master seemed…less, somehow. Astarion had always had standards for who he let touch his body, but on nights like this, the thought of anyone touching him (no matter how attractive, no matter how perfect) made his skin crawl even more than normal.

But he was running out of time. This was the second tavern he’d visited tonight. Dawn was approaching quickly. He still had enough time to bed someone and bring them back, but only if he chose someone soon.

It didn’t help that the longer he waited to choose his victim, the harder it got for him to, well, bite the bullet and just choose someone. He started to panic the closer to dawn it got while he remained alone, and it always stopped him from making a choice, despite—or perhaps because of—the building pressure and the growing fear of what Cazador would do to him if he came back empty-handed.

Why is it always me? The thought came to Astarion’s mind unbidden. Why is it always my victims he wants? My siblings bring back their own prey every night. Why does he need each of us to feed him?

Astarion shut out the anger. It never helped. He already knew the answers: Cazador was a glutton, Cazador taunted them with food they could never have, Cazador liked to feed in excess, Cazador lived in opulence and that opulence included the blood of his victims (that he never caught) everywhere. Or at least, these were the answers he and his siblings had speculated on, back before Cazador had turned them on each other. That was years ago—from the very beginning, when Astarion was new and there were just a few of them—

The memory fades into thin air. At this point, Astarion wasn’t sure if he was doing it to himself, forcing himself not to remember, or if two hundred years spent crushed under Cazador’s heel was wearing away at his memory. He wasn’t sure if he even cared to know the answer.

Very suddenly, Astarion was aware of eyes on him—piercing and amazed. He made a show of leaning back in his seat, taking a long gulp from his wine goblet, and found his watcher. A young man, a human, little more than a boy compared to Astarion. He was tall, possibly taller than Astarion, and very lean, his body covered in tight brown leather. There was a broadsword at his side and a tall mug in front of him. He was surrounded by friends, all laughing and joking, but his gaze was fixed on Astarion.

Gods, he was handsome. A little more rugged than the type Astarion usually lured in, but he couldn’t complain. Astarion hadn’t even acknowledged him and this boy was already in his web.

Astarion let his eye linger on the young man, taking in his body and well-kept sandy hair before meeting deep brown eyes and smirking. A blush appeared on the man’s face, helped by the liquor in his veins.

Astarion’s fingers itched. He took another sip of wine and licked his lips, watching the way the boy’s eyes practically rolled into the back of his head. The boy shifted in his seat and Astarion couldn’t contain his smirk; this one would be easy to drag away with the promise of hot kisses and a quick romp. And he was healthy, too, which would only please Cazador more.

But he paused. If the boy was as healthy as he smelled, and if he could really use that broadsword, he would be strong—much stronger than Astarion. If there were any faults of his own that Astarion was willing to acknowledge, it was that he was…fragile, to put it nicely. This man could easily overpower him if he realized what Astarion was doing. He could be dangerous.

And his current company—the friends he was with looked just as strong, just as deadly. If they were sober enough to keep tabs on their drunk friend, or even just enough to remember Astarion’s face the next morning, they could come after him.

He was an option, Astarion decided, but not quite what he was looking for. Still, he adjusted in his seat, gently eased his hips forward, and glanced at the boy out of the corner of his eye. Astarion was a master at this; he could easily keep the boy entertained while he looked for other contenders for the night.

The tiefling standing at the bar was an option—she was tiny and lithe and looked out of place, almost nervous, but she looked like she promised a good fuck at the very least. She, too, was with friends, except her group paid little attention to her. They were beyond drunk and several of them were getting handsy with each other. But she was still sipping on the same glass she’d originally been handed by the bartender, who was a tiefling who looked very similar to her. Siblings, perhaps. It was never a safe bet to go after anyone who would be missed. Yet another option, but not a promise.

The door to the tavern opened once more. Astarion looked toward it, hoping for easy prey to be walking in, and his eyes were blessed by perhaps the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen—although he was certainly biased, because it was another elf. And elves were always breathtaking to Astarion.

But you…you were exquisite anyway. Though he couldn’t put his finger on what about you made you such a darling, something about you set you apart from other elves. Even the ones he had charmed into his pants time and time again.

You seemed to glow with an innate, foreign happiness that felt, to Astarion, like an old friend he’d been blindsided by glimpsing in a crowded street.

Astarion watched you switch places with the tiefling bartender behind the bar, exchanging a cheery “Hello!” loud enough to be heard over the din of the tavern. Your hair swished alongside your back, half of it down and half in braids, and when it fell across your face you gently blew it out of your eyes. Gods, you were like the heroine of a romance novel out of his mostly-forgotten past.

Your tiefling coworker left, taking the nervous one Astarion had been eyeing with them. You waved them goodbye and turned your attention to the others sitting on the barstools, leaning over conspiratorially and offering them drinks and refills.

Astarion smirked. He knew a fellow performer when he saw one. You were doing everything you could for coin. You didn’t need makeup, but you’d done some, enough to highlight your eyes and your cheekbones. Your shirt was low and open just enough to expose some of your chest, but not all of it, keeping some of the mystery. You wore a corset to plump up your chest, and the way you moved helped you keep it in the view of your clients. Even your hair was styled to make you even more attractive than you naturally were. You might have been a different type of servicing performer, but you were one nonetheless.

Astarion’s gaze slid back to the young man. He had gone back to talking with his friends, but kept glancing over at Astarion. He caught the man’s eye and dropped one hand below his table, adjusting his pants in one of the most obvious ways he knew. He could feel the stretch of his pants against his cock and knew that its outline was visible. The young man’s eyes went wide and another deep, involuntary blush appeared on his cheeks.

With his prey still invested in the possibility of a good night, Astarion turned his gaze back to you and was startled to find you looking in his direction, your face fixed in soft concentration. When you saw him looking, you offered him the kind smile of a bartender who knew her job was to listen to the woes of her patrons, and went back to mixing a sparkling pink cocktail. But Astarion’s eyes remained on you.

Somehow, you were familiar. The details of your face seemed natural, calming, someone he could trust. He felt a very sudden, very strong urge to go sit at your bar and talk. He wanted to put his head down and drink a glass of something you concocted for him and tell you everything while you nodded sympathetically with that soft smile of pure understanding on your face.

You were the kind of person he avoided going after as victims, usually. It was people like you that he saw and tried and failed to seduce. It wasn’t just that you were a woman, either, though Astarion knew there were certainly times when he was rubbish at talking to women he found genuinely attractive. But it would be your kindness that made it that much harder to manipulate you.

Still…

Astarion considered it. Gods damn him, he considered sidling up to your bar, taking a seat, flirting with you, bedding you, bringing you back to Cazador. The thought of Cazador brought a sour taste to his mouth. Even if he was pleased with Astarion for bringing you back, Cazador would tease him endlessly about bringing back a pretty elf. “Have you brought me the one you wish for your wife, boy?” he might say, before he bit you and made Astarion listen to you scream.

He barely kept back his shudder, trying to banish the thought from his mind. But the plan still formed. He knew exactly what he’d do and say. He’d start with a cheesy pickup line you’d probably heard a dozen times as a bartender, he’d ask you to make you a drink of your choice for him, he’d compliment the drink you made, regardless of how it tasted to his dead senses. Then, as he drank, he’d let his lips loosen. He’d tell you just enough truth to tug on your heartstrings and believe him. And as he talked to you about his sob story past, he’d talk to you with honeyed words and look at you with sad, sad eyes.

And you’d be hooked. He’d make sure there was something about him that stood out from the usual sob stories that found themselves washed up at your bar. With any luck, he would be just the type of elf you found yourself mooning over, and, one way or another, one of you would end up on your back for the other. Honestly, Astarion wasn’t sure which sounded better.

It was strange, he realized very suddenly, that a high elf such as yourself would be a bartender. It was a strange, monotonous job for creatures like you and him, with such long lifespans. Why did you do it? There had to be something in it for you.

Astarion grimaced. There was yet another reason he should avoid you. If he was invested in you, asking questions about you, he could easily be dissuaded from taking you back to Cazador. In fact, he was quite certain—for no particular reason—that you could dissuade him from many things. Enough to end up locked in tight walls of stone once again.

No. Never again. He’d leave you alone, admire you from afar, and let you live your life. The boy would do for the night.

Astarion made eye contact with the young man. The boy jumped and his eyes grew wide. Astarion smiled at him, swirling his wine in his glass, and let his tongue touch and caress the rim of the glass before he took a sip. The boy whimpered and shifted in his seat. Astarion spread his legs a little more, thrust his hips up a little, and then cocked his head to the side: a clear offer for the young man to take.

Me? the boy mouthed. Astarion nodded, confirming with a salaciously whispered, You.

He glanced at his friends and shot Astarion a look that could only mean “give me one moment.” Astarion tilted his head back and drained his glass while the boy took care of his companions. A moment later, a shadow loomed over Astarion. He glanced up from his empty glass to see the young man.

Astarion grinned. “Hello, darling,” he said, voice smooth. He reveled in the way the young man blushed at just the sound of it. “Pleasure to see you.” He stood and found himself nearly eye-level with the young man. He was just slightly taller than Astarion, but not enough to give himself an advantage, should the night go terribly wrong.

“Where do you want to go?” the young man breathed, clearly excited. How long is it since this man last got laid? Astarion wondered. But he knew it didn’t matter; this would be the boy’s last night alive.

“Wherever we can,” Astarion answered. “Perhaps…your place?”

The man nodded eagerly. “I— Yes. I’d like that.”

Astarion let the man take his hand. “Lead the way,” he purred, giving the man a quick once-over.

He was quick to drag Astarion out of the tavern. When the door closed behind them, Astarion caught sight of you watching, both eyebrows raised, before you shook your head and returned to polishing a glass.

It was a short walk to the man’s house. Within seconds of the door closing behind them, after Astarion had made a show of teasing the boy into letting him in, Astarion found himself pressed against the door with a pair of warm, soft lips on his own.

For a moment, he enjoyed it. The boy was clearly inexperienced and nervous—his kiss was incredibly light and he seemed hesitant to put his hands on Astarion. Perhaps it would be a bearable night.

Astarion cupped the boy’s face to deepen the kiss. The whimper he let out was meek—and the complete opposite of the hand that slid to the front of Astarion’s pants. All hope that tonight would be gentle disappeared from Astarion’s mind as the man’s hand squeezed around Astarion. He hissed and forced himself to buck into the hand that held him.

You want rough? I can do rough.

Everything in Astarion’s body seemed to switch. The gentility he’d been hoping for became rough and harsh, and his body was preparing for it, even as his mind began to turn off.

One thing led to another. It passed by in a blur in Astarion’s mind: tripping up the stairs, laughing as they fell onto a bed covered in animal furs, tearing off clothes and leaving them in heaps on the floor. It was only when Astarion was naked on his back that he briefly came to again, the man grunting and groaning above him.

“My name,” he was saying. “Say my name.”

Shit. I hate it when they tell me their names.

Astarion bit back a harsh laugh. “Sorry—didn’t catch it.” Hell, he wasn’t even sure what moniker he’d taken to calling the man. It could have been anything. Lover, darling, sweet, pet, there were so many sweet things he’d learned to use. Half the time, he had no idea what he’d even said to his victims while they used him.

The man leaned down and both their bodies shuddered as he hit a spot within Astarion’s body that made him cry out. “Rahul,” he whispered in Astarion’s ear. “My name is Rahul.”

Astarion draped his arm over his shoulders. “Alright,” he whispered. “Come on, Rahul. Give me more. I can take it.”

It was harder to get out of it after that. There was a name to put to this man’s face and now, without wanting to, Astarion was memorizing it. He was committing Rahul to memory, allowing him to become another face in a very long roster of people who came to torment him in his dreams.

Somehow, Astarion forced his mind to shut off. The night passed in a blur, Rahul’s shout of ecstasy combining with his shout of pain as Cazador drained him dry when Astarion returned, several hours before dawn, with his prize.

“Cutting it close, boy,” Cazador said, looking down at Astarion when Rahul had been drained enough to stop struggling. “But this one will do.”

Cazador dismissed Astarion and his siblings from the room with a flick of his fingers. They bowed themselves out and as the door closed behind them, Astarion watched Cazador sink his teeth back into Rahul’s neck.

~❊~

Dawn was blooming on the horizon by the time you managed to kick out the last of your patrons. As you shut the door behind the last of them—a group of drunk, rowdy warriors—you took a long look at the lightening horizon. It looked almost like a bruise, blacks fading into blues and purples.

The silence in the tavern was deafening. This was always your least favorite part of working in it: closing up in the morning, sweeping up the remnants of the night for an hour, feeling terribly alone all the while.

It was the bartender’s burden, you liked to think, to be everyone’s friend and the person who kept the loneliness at bay for everyone else. You listened to their lives and their problems, offered them a drink and sometimes advice, and waved them away with their hearts lighter and yours much heavier with their troubles. It was a bit like therapy—though possibly a tad unhealthier, given all the alcohol you plied your clients.

But your mind was elsewhere tonight. Lingering in the back of your mind, behind the annoyance of cleaning up sticky, spilled liquor, behind Tani’s complaints about her husband’s lost job, behind Nanorian’s despair over his accidentally broken oath, was the pale elf you’d seen loitering in the shadows of your tavern.

Most people didn’t make that much of an impression on you. You had your regulars, that was for sure, but travelers came through all the time, each more wild than the last. This elf was hardly the most outlandish person you’d ever seen. In fact, he was probably one of the more subdued ones. But you remembered him—and everything he’d done throughout the night as you watched, your eyes drawn again and again to his figure—more clearly than the conversation you’d had with one of your regulars: Nethyis, a tiefling with whom you had the same conversation nearly every single night.

You knew him. Or you thought you did. If you didn’t so frequently imagine you saw the elf you’d grown to love in just thirty-nine short years (so much so that you’d seen him nearly every day of your life for two hundred years), you would have believed he’d suddenly come back from the dead.

That had been your first thought the first time you’d seen him, several weeks after his death. It was just a glimpse—a flash of his white hair and the flutter of his magisterial robes—in a very crowded street. Your shout of “Astarion!” hadn’t reached him, but it had certainly made the crowd around you whisper their sympathies. He was there one minute, gone the next, just as it had happened the day two officials had told you he’d been killed.

Absent-mindedly, you wandered over to the table the elf had been sitting at. You stared at it as if you expected your long-dead friend to materialize once more, tell you to sit down and have a drink with him, and launch into a tirade about his terrible day at work in the courts. Such nights had once been frequent—although never in a tavern, always in the house you shared.

You had only noticed him when you’d arrived at work because he was staring at you first. You’d gotten very good at noticing when faces were turned toward the bar—though usually a hand was also raised to signify they wanted another drink—and had looked on pure instinct to see if he needed something from you.

The minute you locked eyes with him, you’d felt your heart fall straight through the floor beneath your feet. With his face turned toward you, so open and almost peaceful, it felt like looking into the face of the man you loved once again, a feeling you had missed these many, many years.

It only lasted a second, that feeling of love. Where Astarion would have given you that dashing, cavalier smile you had grown so fond of as a child, this elf just stared as if he was trying to place you in his memory. You’d gotten ahold of yourself then, offering him the same bland smile you offered all your customers, and went back to work.

But just for a moment…you’d had your beloved back.

You practically fell into the chair across from the one he’d occupied just hours before, your knees giving out without warning. A strangled sob made its way out of your throat. And even though you were alone, you covered your mouth with a hand to stifle your cries.

“Oh, gods,” you gasped when you finally had enough breath to do so. Your hot tears rolled down your cheeks and splattered against the table’s scorched and stabbed surface. You rested your head against it and imagined you felt Astarion’s gentle hand covering your own.

Two-hundred years of this. And you’d been doing so well! You still saw him every day, usually sitting and reading in a corner or smiling at you from a window while you worked or making snide comments about your clients, but you knew he was just in your head. You knew you were coping with losing him by envisioning he was still by your side. It didn’t impede your work; in fact, it comforted you, like his ghost was lingering to keep you safe. You’d stopped sobbing about losing him so suddenly. (Mostly. There were still days where your body ached from the heartbreak and your soul screamed with the pain. But those were few and far between now.)

Yet all it took was a single, handsome stranger who looked something like your Astarion, and you lost it.

Well, you had to give yourself some credit—at least you hadn’t burst into tears the moment you saw him from your bar, even though you had really wanted to.

You took deep breaths until the sobs and shudders passed you by. You picked up the goblet he’d been drinking from and wiped down the table. Honestly, you should have done this the minute he’d left, but the people in the tavern had already been dwindling by that time, and you’d suspected something like this might happen when you walked over.

“I was due for a breakdown,” you mumbled to yourself.

The elf had certainly looked like Astarion. He almost perfectly matched the memory you had of the sun elf you had known in his very, very short lifetime. A lithe figure, high cheekbones, deep smile lines from his years spent laughing, perfectly styled silver hair. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his eyes, but you’d already pictured them to be a honeyed yellow, perfectly golden when the sun hit them just right—just like Astarion’s eyes.

You sighed and shook your head. How could you be so sure that the pale elf looked anything like Astarion? Maybe you’d seen the hair and close-enough facial features and had, in your mind’s eye, made him into your Astarion. It wouldn’t have been the first time it had happened.

Gods, you wouldn’t be going into an easy trance today. Even if you did, it wouldn’t be restful; you’d lay awake, cursed to picture Astarion every time you closed your eyes, and he would be the only memory you re-lived.

You cleaned up the rest of the tavern only half-aware of what you were doing. You were lost in your head, feeling stuck both inside and outside of your body.

The memories you had been trancing to save since he died crowded your thoughts: the two of you as children, chasing each other through crowded streets while both of your parents shouted for you to slow down; Astarion bandaging your hands after you’d burned them; staying up for hours to help him study for law school; drunkenly kissing each other at an elvish festival; sharing a bed on a trip you’d joined him on and cuddling through the night, talking through your complicated feelings for each other; screaming his name at his graduation; watching him get dressed for his first court case; going out to dinner together and holding hands across the table; Astarion drinking away his sorrows in your tavern after a particularly rough case; covering the little love bites you left on him before he left for work, both of you giggling as you did.

Tears spilled over the next time you blinked. You wiped them off your cheeks and closed up the tavern, extinguishing candles and lamps, locking the door behind you when you left.

You walked in silence, veering off your path home to enter the cemetery. You found his grave with the ease of someone who had walked the path a thousand times. You’d probably walked it more than that, in fact.

It was heartbreakingly beautiful. You’d always thought that. His stone was simple but elegant, just as the man himself had been. You crouched before it and kissed his name, a tear somehow still escaping your closed eyes. You rubbed the top of the stone like you had once rubbed his back.

“I miss you,” you whispered to the stone. “Rest easy, my love, for me. I’ll be with you one day.” You kissed the stone again, then pressed your forehead to it, as if you were pressing your forehead to his. “Sleep well, Astarion.”

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil

115 notes · View notes

innocent-artery · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober 22nd: Staying Hydrated

aka piss play with Steve Harrington

1k words

Summary: In which Steve has taken a strange new interest in keeping you hydrated.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Steve Harrington x reader

For the sake of avoiding spoilers, extensive warnings will not be given. This story includes sexually explicit material, reader discretion advised.

While reading, I recommend listening to the altar is my hips, a spotify playlist by me!

~ Steve was always a caring boyfriend, that was never a doubt in your mind.

He always brought you flowers, kept you company when you needed it, and spent more on food and gifts for you than you could return.

Even today, he'd made sure to remind you every hour or so to drink lots of water, refilling your cup for you and tipping the end of the bottle upwards as you drank. You'd assumed it was due to a comment you'd made some day or other about how you wished you'd drink more water, so you thought nothing of it.

So that evening, after the two of you had retired to the living room to watch a movie, you were accompanied by a full water bottle, mindlessly sipping as you lay in Steve's lap.

Until a familiar feeling in your bladder drew your attention from the movie. You looked into the bottom of your cup- it was nearly empty.

You took in a breath, shifting a little in your seat. Steve's hand was splayed over your thigh, thumb stroking soothingly over the skin. You were suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of his arm over your stomach.

You tried standing up, but he held you down. "Steve, gotta get up."

"No you don't." He said simply. His eyes didn't waver from the TV.

"Baby, I gotta pee." You wiggled, trying with little success to pry his arm off of you.

"Then hold it." Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you swore his hand on your thigh moved higher.

"I can't- Steve, if you don't let me up I'm going to piss on you."

"No you aren't," he muttered, fingers dancing dangerously close to the seam of your pants. "You're gonna hold it."

The pressure in your abdomen is building steadily, and Steve's legs keeping your legs pried open didn't help one bit. His finger is tracing the junction where your thigh ends and your pussy starts. You've completely forgotten the plot of the movie.

"Steve..." you whined, hips trembling. "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely." He purred. To your surprise, he didn't let you up, but his hand went to cup your cunt, rubbing firm circles with his palm over your clit.

"Steve!" You gasped, taking a harsh grip on his wrist. You weren't sure if you wanted him to stop or keep going, but you needed grounding. Your hips couldn't move up to meet his hand without soiling yourself, but your back arched against him. Your poor bladder was struggling, and you could feel your underwear wetting a little. Whether it was arousal or pee, you couldn't tell. Probably both.

"Steve, I can't hold it," you whimpered, tears pricking at your waterline.

"No? I think you can, you always do." His hair tickles your cheek as he presses sweet pecks to it. "But since you've done so well, go on, go to the bathroom."

As quickly and as carefully as you can, you sit up from his lap. You're mortified when you see a wet stripe on the thigh of his sweatpants. You waddle to the bathroom, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Steve is hot on your trail, despite his nonchalant walk with his hands in his pockets. You tear your pants and underwear from your body, only just aware of the sound of Steve turning the shower on.

A hand on your arm stops you when you lift the toilet lid. "Ah, none of that."

You whine, tapping your foot like a petulant child. "But Steve-"

"Come on, the water's good now." Steve pushes the sliding glass aside all the way, stepping in. You watch as he drops to his knees in the shower, the water over his tanned torso causing the butterflies in your stomach to flutter. His eyes are hungry and dark, but there was a teasing gleam in his eyes as he cocked his head, gesturing you in.

Tentatively, you step into the shower. The warm water feels good on your skin, but your thighs are still trembling and your bladder is still painfully full.

Steve looks up at you sweetly, as though he wasn't the sole reason for the concoction of discomfort and anxiety and arousal and desperation swimming in your gut. He places soft kisses to your thighs, pulling one of your hands to his hair, damp from the steam. Steve's fingers trace through your folds, tantalizingly slowly.

"Please," you whispered. You weren't sure what you were asking for anymore. The pressure in your bladder and the fire licking through your loins had you so strung out you couldn't think.

Steve presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your clit, and your hand tightens around his hair. His fingers traced around your hole, weeping and fluttering around the touch.

You could feel Steve smirking at the feeling, chuckling at your gasps and whimpers as he pushes a finger in. His tongue laves over your clit, sucking and tracing and pushing you closer and closer towards your high.

"God, Steve, I can't hold it..." you moaned, head falling forward. You're so close to your orgasm and so close to pissing, and you needed both so badly that tears came.

"Just a little longer, baby, doing so well." Steve mumbled, pushing in another finger.

"Steve, I can't!" You cried.

"Hold it."

"Please!"

"Let go."

You probably would have even if he didn't let you. Your body shakes violently with the relief washing over you. Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth fell open in a long, panting moan. Steve looked elated under you as he suckled on your clit, fingers moving harshly, hitting that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars.

Your pussy was spasming by the time he'd finally pulled away. There was a dreamy look in his eyes as he passed his tongue over his lips.

"You," you huffed, "are crazy."

Steve grinned. "worked though, didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, see how nice I am next time you chug a coffee right before a four hour car ride."

"Can't wait."

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #steve harrington smut #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

192 notes · View notes

guiltyhearts · 4 months ago

Text

Many moons ago, I wrote this post about one of, if not my favorite, ship in the Ace Attorney series. That being Klavier Gavin/Ema Skye, a.k.a Klema. At the time, I said in the tags of the post that I would probably revisit it and add things that I didn't include at the time. Looking at it again, I would say that my feelings remain largely the same... so maybe it's time to add those extra thoughts to the post:

Give me post-AJ Ema and Klavier spending time together at work where they’re more cordial at first. Where it’s awkward because she doesn’t want to say anything insensitive because he’s Been Through A Lot Lately. And he’s polite too but he notices the tension between them, and neither of them know how to get past it. He doesn't want to be treated like glass, and she doesn't want to rub salt in the wound. Then one day he can’t help but make a joke at her expense and she snaps back with a snarky retort. It’s a shift back into familiar territory, but it’s with a new foundation of mutual civility and consideration for each other.

Give me an Ema who realizes that she knows what it’s like to have been deceived by an older sibling who you were supposed to trust implicitly. So even if she finds his attitude utterly grating most days, she can never bring herself to hate Klavier for the mistakes he made when he was younger when he was acting on the advice of someone he trusted. Even if she could salvage a relationship with her sister in the end, it does not erase the years of uncertainty and loneliness or the lingering doubts.

Give me a Klavier who starts paying attention to how his own attitude could rub someone the wrong way, and how his own standard of perfection and success is not necessarily shared by all. He considers how disheartening it must have been for his colleague (and now maybe work friend?) to fail to realize her own childhood dream, despite her best efforts. He had once made a disparaging remark about the forensics experts and how as a detective, Ema has even more authority, so shouldn’t she be more grateful for that? When he remembers the brief pause in her reaction, the hurt and dismay in her eyes that quickly gave way to outrage and the outburst that had followed, he apologizes to her for making the remark in the first place. Maybe he's surprised when she forgives him (and maybe so is she).

Give me a Klavier who feels he has to atone not just for his own mistakes but for those of his brother. It's enough for Ema to see that maybe there is goodness in him. There is a man who wants to do better and be better.

Give me these work friends bringing coffee to each other and sharing stories over them while they're working. Give me a Klavier and Ema that start to spend time together outside work and finding each other to be great company, actually. Making time for each other in their lives to the point where they are a welcome and expected presence. Where it just hasn’t been a regular day if Klavier doesn’t make a lightly flirtatious or self-aggrandizing remark or if Ema doesn’t bring him back down to earth.

Give me a Klavier that encourages Ema to follow her dreams, to try again and again until she has what she wants. Who, if he could, would move heaven and earth to make her dreams come true, but he knows how much sweeter that accomplishment feels when it's earned through one's own merit. Klavier who stops to consider why he would feel that way, why he would want to do that for her.

Give me Ema who's so so happy when she gets the news. Ema Skye, Forensic Investigator. Doesn't it just roll off the tongue? She thinks so, and she's bursting to tell the world. Give me an Ema who finds Klavier and wants to celebrate with him because he's been supporting her through her renewed efforts, and maybe a small part of her still wants to gloat. Give me Ema, whose insides warm when Klavier gives her the brightest and most sincere smile she's seen from him. She must have seen him smile like that before, but here it takes her breath away.

Give me Klavier and Ema suddenly with mixed feelings. Unable to shake the realization that they might not work together anymore. This is a good thing... right?

Give me a Klavier and Ema with tension, but this time it's the tension that comes with unspoken feelings. Feelings that they can't even fully admit to themselves. Of course he's happy to see her achieve her professional dream, so why is he worried that she'll never want to be around him again now that they don't have to be? Meanwhile, she can't pretend that he's still just the 'glimmerous fop' she once couldn't stand. He is still that glimmerous fop she can't stand... sometimes. He is also much more than that, and that 'much more' is what she has come to admire and miss in him.

Give me a Klavier and Ema that try to fight their feelings at first. Maybe there's embarrassment because 'ew, are you even supposed to have crushes when you're 25?'. But at some point it just grows and grows until there is no hiding the stolen glances or lingering touches. Someone has to eventually make the first move. There is awkwardness as there always is when you're in uncharted territory, but they want to go through it together.

Give me a Klavier and Ema filling their shared moments with banter in one minute, and then with companionable silence in the next. Give me a Klavier and Ema who root for each other, tease each other, and still drive each other crazy. Who somehow couldn't get away from the other. A Klavier and Ema who don't want to be apart from each other.

Give me Klema.

#Klavier Gavin #Ema Skye #Ace Attorney #Klema #AA #I wrote the original post before the last NEW mainline game - spirit of justice - was even announced I think #so I suppose really the only thing that has changed from my thoughts in 2014 to 2024 is this:#ema skye did in fact get the job she always wanted #so I had that to take into account now #I'm kind of amazed by the way the aa fandom on Tumblr has evolved over the years #especially when it comes to the ships - seeing which ones grow in popularity and which ones quiet down #even some shipping dynamics have changed here and there #the aa fandom in the early to mid 2010s sometimes seems like another lifetime ago

28 notes · View notes

madam-whim · 1 year ago

Text

The Gold Road Reveal and my thoughts on it

I’m gonna start this off by saying I love ESO. I have been playing since 2017 and I’m pretty much doing everything the game has to offer. Quests, dungeons, trials, antiquities, sometimes PvP. That being said, this post will include lots of criticism that I feel (or know) is shared by many other fans.

But first things first, let me start off by listing some of the things on yesterday’s stream that had me bouncing in my seat:

The new zone is absolutely stunning! There’s a lot of variety to it and it does look very pretty. Exploring it will undoubtedly be fun and a feast for my eyes.

Also, Fennorian will be there, so I know there will at least be one well-written character that my Vestige has an actual bond with.

The scribing system being more of a roleplay thing – I don’t know what some people were hoping for, but I’m glad it’s not some Big Damage For Those Who Are Good At Maths kind of system. It still allows for a more unique playstyle, and I suppose it’s going to turn out like always: Do whatever you want in open world spaces, but keep your bow backflip heal out of veteran content.

And maybe the biggest “Yes!” moment of the evening: Ed Stark being the zone lead for Gold Road. While I did not like High Isle as much (too predictable for my taste, but at least it had recurring characters), he was responsible for Greymoor and Murkmire as well. I thought Greymoor was fantastic (good quests, excellent new characters alongside very familiar recurring ones), and Murkmire… well, I think Murkmire suffers greatly from being “the DLC that came after the Daedric Triad” so to speak. It kind of fell into the void created by a storyline spanning a full year (or even more, if you count the setup for the whole thing, which really began with the Varen’s ghost and Darien’s letter in Wrothgar and the Gold Coast sweetroll killer quests). I think that’s why lots of people don’t seem to like Murkmire very much despite it having great storytelling. My point is this: I do have some hope that after the fiasco some recent DLCs were story-wise, Ed Stark will at least make sure Gold Road makes sense.

And now for the criticism.

Ithelia’s design (Whenever, wherever, I want to kill Hermaeus…)

… yeah, about that. As one of my friends put it, she looks like Shakira with wings.

They really could have done so much better. The way she is now, as @akaviri-dovah said, she really just looks like a Meridia clone who somehow stole Jyggalag’s crystals, which is funny on so many levels (more on that later). Suffice it to say that I personally think the design choices are kind of lazy, given that we already have an angelic-looking Daedric lady.

Also, what’s with this picture? This kinda makes it seem as if she originally looked. Um. A lil different from the way she is now. In any case, I’m just gonna call this a missed opportunity for something more unique. I do like the glass shard aesthetic, I just wish they’d taken it in a different direction.

Dragon Break Princess Ithelia, or something like that

Now I know Dragon Breaks have to work differently from what Ithelia does, but I am kind of wondering what the consequences of her fate-altering abilities are. How do you alter fate in a way that threatens reality (with reality consisting of past and present events, with all possible versions of the future being possibly-real until one actually happens) without altering the timeline? Just by removing a possible future? Then one could argue that any Daedra could do the same just by manipulating people. Granted, it’s possible that Ithelia sees all possible futures and can do whatever she likes with them, but even then, she’d only be influencing what can become reality, not what already is. So how can she be THAT dangerous?

Right now, it just seems to me that they needed an adversary for Hermaeus Mora, and since his big things are knowledge, secrets and fate, and they couldn’t very well make a Daedric Prince of Anti-Intellectualism or a Daedric Prince of Snitching, she had to be a fate-altering type of Daedra.

At this point I’m still wondering how she even works, because how does she not accidentally cause Dragon Breaks? And if she is that damn powerful, how on earth did Mora alone manage to pretty much remove any trace of her? Which kind of brings me to my next point.

Memory Issues

I know, I know, Ithelia is not the first “new” Daedric Prince. (Which makes her stolen Jyggalag crystal vibes rather funny if you ask me.) And I don’t mind her being crazy powerful either, because so was Jyggalag or else he wouldn’t have been cursed. But that, to my knowledge, required several other Princes, whereas Ithelia apparently got owned by Hermaeus Mora alone, who then erased all memory of her. Which is not only quite the feat given how powerful she has to be, but also a very weird thing for Hermaeus Mora to do. I kinda thought stealing memories was more Meridia’s style. This entire part does not quite make sense to me yet and seems a little out of character, but well. By the way, speaking of Meridia…

Meridia-baiting the players

At this point, ZOS have to know we’re getting tired of waiting for villain Meridia. Everyone I know who is even the least bit interested in ESO’s storyline wants to see it. And I’ve seen people get their hopes up in recent days (new Meridia/Dawnbreaker-themed music box, the Ayleid ruin hint on the fragments sent to streamers…). Even in the twitch chat, there were people hyped about what they thought was Meridia, and who were disappointed when they were told it was Ithelia. And yes, I am absolutely saying they did this and made her a Meridia lookalike on purpose. But I’m well aware that we haven’t gotten any new hints about either Meridia or a certain someone since Greymoor, and that chapter will be four years old soon. Even I am beginning to give up, as much as I hate to say it.

By the way, I really did NOT appreciate Matt Firor name-dropping Darien right at the beginning. If you’re not planning to do anything with him, just let it go. I know absolutely nobody who appreciates being fed very tiny hints for two years and then being left in the dark for four years straight. If you don’t want to pick that storyline up again, just stuff the man into the Old Life quest and be done with it.

Honestly, once again, I’m gonna say this is a MASSIVE missed opportunity right here. ESO’s 10 year anniversary is coming up, what could possibly be better than to go back to the roots now and reward all those loyal players with the story they are waiting for? I distinctly recall Molag Bal telling me to watch my step around Meridia, and the setup is all there. I’m honestly disappointed that there is no Meridia content at all. And this ties in with my final point, albeit vaguely.

“Recurring” characters

Ah, yes, we do love recurring characters. Sometimes. We do love it when a fan favorite comes back – a character who’s accompanied the Vestige over the course of an entire story arc or has made multiple appearances over the years and has become beloved by many players, and, most importantly, who is well-written, i.e. has a unique personality. And that’s why “recurring characters” is not always a recipe for success when it comes to getting people hooked on a story.

It is when it’s one of the five companions, or a Ravenwatch member, or your main alliance buddy (Raz, Naryu and – oh, wait, yeah, us Covenant babies don’t have one anymore). It also works when it’s a character we’ve run across several times already, like Alchemy, who I know tons of people love, or my favorite walking disaster Revus Demnevanni.

But it’s certainly not working when it’s a character we barely know anything about, and who isn’t a hit with the community. Like Eveli’s brother whom I had to google because I could not remember who he was. He’s from a prologue quest. Nothing more. That’s not a “beloved returning character”.

ZOS have several of those just lying around, and they’re just not using them. And even the base game had so many characters that were there over the course of several zones, that were well-written and at least memorable to the degree that people would recognize them with just a little reminder, like Indaenir or Holgunn and Walks-in-Ash or the Vanos siblings. Hell, we haven't seen good old Vanus Galerion in a while. They are ten years old now and deserve to be dragged to the surface again.

Okay, I’m done now!

This concludes my rant (because that’s what it is, I’m aware). I just want to say again that this is not be dragging ESO through the mud, this is just me pointing out that the devs (especially the writers) could do so much better if they listened to their lore nerds and story-interested players more.

#eso #gold road #ithelia #hermaeus mora #meridia #long post #tes #intya rambles #i am still very salty about the whole meridia situation #and the unfinished business we have with her #and I don't like players getting their hopes up for nothing

54 notes · View notes

frosty-tian · 1 year ago

Text

Day 7 (the final day) for @heartsandsparksshipweek!

Goodbyes/Shared Joys

(There’s a bit of both. Different formatting this time, it’s pretty much a short, illustrated fan-fic.)

Pairing: Boulder/Graham

Audiences: Teens

Warning⚠️: Character death, implied past spark-play(?) (basically implied past sexual activity but it’s only briefly mentioned)

Trembling fingers stroked gingerly against the cool glass.

Usually this action stirred up pure ecstasy and rushes of adrenaline in the larger bot. But this time, it feels numbed down to mere tingling. Not painful, but not pleasant either.

All he seemed to be able to focus on is the frail figure lying in front of him.

Soft blue light washed over Gram, intervals of flickering turning his face into a sharp cutout of blue and black, somehow making his deep-set wrinkles even more clear. Painfully clear.

Age.

It may have stripped him of his physical strength bit by bit. Boulder noticed over the years when he wasn’t able to run as much, and remembers the one time he chuckled about his joints being weird while he helped him lift the crate for a building project.

No longer is his head of messy hair the dirty blonde they were so familiar with, now instead a complete powdery white.

Yet his eyes continued to be so gentle and bright, full of curiosity of an eager youngster.

“Your spark is still so beautiful like the first time you showed me.”

Never had he thought trying to keep a smile would be so hard. A small part of him yearned to beg, wanted to tell him to please stop talking so he could feel his small touch for just a bit longer. But he fought harder to push it down.

“Gramsy, baby, please, I love you. I love you so much.”

Boulder wants to keep smiling. He doesn’t want his lover’s last memory being him having a huge breakdown.

“Remember honey, like you once said.”

Graham coughed, breathing ragged and near-dry. Despite him struggling, knowing he’s barely hanging onto the last silvers of time he has left, he still wore such a bright smile.

“It’s not a goodbye, it’s see you later. I’ll always love you.”

Boulder’s sure he’s imagining it.

The moment Gram breathed his last, his fingers started to grow cold as it slowly slid down from his spark chamber. But his spark… he can’t explain it, it glowed brighter. He felt a rush of new warmth, laughter and unintelligible yet familiar chatter echoed in his processor as if hearing it all from a distant.

It’s almost as if in that exact moment, all which made Gram him, eloped with the spark of the one he held so close to his own heart.

Bonus:

“…”

“He really is gone.”

“He really is gone, isn’t he?”

“Boulder…” Before he was able to say another word, Blades immediately halted when the green bot gave a sudden heave.

“I… I, no, we. We did everything that we wanted to do, said everything including our final goodbyes unlike in the past, right?” Boulder’s voice is quivering.

“It counts as a happy ending.”

He turned to look at his remaining teammates, who stuck through so much thick and thin with him.

“So why…”

#heartsandsparksshipweek #transformers #maccadam #rescue bots #tf rescue bots #rb boulder #tfrb boulder #graham burns #rb graham #boulgram #couple #human x alien #my art #digital #my writing #one shot fanfic #illustrated fanfic

103 notes · View notes

toomuchzozo · 1 year ago

Text

The Miraculous AU, Season 3

We’ve finally made it to Season 3. I imagined Season 3 of the Miraculous AU being the last, but I’d also like to include every Miraculous being used at least once. This season would be subtitled “Cursed Object War” in reference to “Infinity War.” It would take a few months after A Heist With Ladybug.

I wanted to break this into two posts, but I think putting them all together will be better in the long run. The Season 3 villain is a villainess who was trapped in the Guardians’ tower and escaped during the confusion of the Guardians suddenly coming back.

This season 3 premiere is probably the most fleshed-out plot I’ve written for the Miraculous AU besides the first four chapters. This series premiere features references to Sanders Sides, a webshow by Thomas Sanders.

Thomas arrives in Los Angeles and looks for some props he’ll need for his show (that he couldn’t bring on the plane.) He knows he needs a full-body mirror and finds a thrift shop selling one. The cashier of the thrift shop is the villainess I mentioned earlier (her name will be revealed later.) Thomas buys the mirror and takes it back to his hotel room.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the gayest of them all?” Thomas joked, looking into the prop mirror.

However, after staring into the mirror, Thomas feels some sort of pull to it.

Thomas reached out for the mirror, despite almost everything in his body telling him not to. When he placed his hand on the glass, a bright light filled the room… And six figures stood in his place.

Later, Mark and Jack are walking around Los Angeles. They run into Patton, one of Thomas’s Sides. They get to talking to him and…

I have energy, Jack thought, but this guy has dad energy. His energy level far exceeds even my own!

Even after all his talking, Patton hasn’t introduced himself yet. For Mark and Jack, he seems familiar…

“The name’s Patton!” His eternal smile dropped slightly…to a grin. “I think you have me confused with someone else, but I’m looking for him too. He kind of looks like me, but he might be even more handsome~” Mark didn’t have to guess who Patton was looking for, but he joked, “Does this person have a name starting with ‘T-H’ and ending with ‘Sanders’?” “If you use his full name, yes!” Mark gets away from Jack and Patton for a minute to talk with Tikki. “This feels like an Akuma doing this, but it can’t be!” Tikki exclaimed. “Master Fu would’ve told us if anything happened to the Butterfly Miraculous, so this must be something new. What…did you fight before the Akumas came along?” Mark wondered why he never asked that question before, since once upon a time, all the Miraculous were on the side of good. “Just…threats that required a superhero’s touch whenever they came along.” The Kwami shrugged. “Most of them were supernatural, but we helped with other big threats when we were needed.”

When he gets back to Jack and Patton, Mark asks if Patton or Thomas have met any strange people or found any strange objects. Patton tells Mark and Jack about the mirror.

“I was trying my hardest to tell Thomas not to touch that mirror because it looked spooky, but before I could stop him… I was there, and Thomas wasn’t.” Patton sighed, wishing he could’ve done more.

Mark and Jack decide it’s time for Ladybug and Chat Noir to return, but they can’t just leave Patton here. The two heroes pull Patton into an alleyway to decide whether they can trust Patton with their secret identities.

“Hey, are you good at keepin’ secrets?” Jack asked. Patton frowned for the first time. “Uh…not at all.” “Then cover yer eyes!” Jack told Patton. “I would, but my name doesn’t have any~” Mark groaned and put Patton’s own hands up to his eyes. Mark told him, “Now stay like that until we say you can open your eyes.” Mark and Jack manage to transform by just whispering the activation phrases. Ladybug and Chat Noir ask Patton who they should be looking for next. Patton mentions Virgil first. “Maybe we should start by findin’ this Virgil,” Chat Noir said. “I’m right here,” someone said behind all of them. Chat Noir and Ladybug jumped at the sudden voice and Patton yelped. The two heroes turned to see someone who looked a lot like Patton…if he decided to go completely emo. He had hair in his face and shadows under his eyes. He wore a ragged hoodie with purple patches and had a noticeable slouch.

Ladybug and Chat Noir ask for Virgil’s side of the story, just to make sure Patton and Virgil’s stories are similar. Sure enough, they are: Thomas touched a mirror, and the Sides appeared from it.

“I really wish Thomas listened to me and didn’t touch that mirror.” Virgil sighed. "Things were better when I was just Thomas's habitual worry. No body, no other feelings to deal with..."

Ladybug and Chat Noir are about to ask Patton and Virgil about the others when suddenly:

“Virgil! Patton!” Someone ran up to the two and grabbed them around the shoulders. Virgil and Patton both looked a little frightened by him. He looked like Virgil and Patton but distinctly “normal.” He wore a brown leather jacket and a white shirt with a black collar. “Thank goodness you’re okay. I’ve been looking all over for you!” “You must be Thomas,” Ladybug assumed. Thomas nodded, smirking. “That’s my name - don’t wear it out.” Then he took notice of the heroes’ appearance. “You know, I’d heard stories about superheroes around LA, but I didn’t think they were real.” “I’m Ladybug, and this is Chat Noir,” Ladybug greeted. “We, uh, thought this problem was Akuma-related since we haven’t seen an Akuma in a while. Patton mentioned something about a mirror?” Thomas nodded, frowning. “Yeah. I touched this mirror I got from this thrift shop and then I felt…empty. Before I could stop them, my Sides just…ran off. I think the mirror was gonna split me up according to my personality, but I already do that for my show, heh.” “Sorry, but we haven’t seen your show. How many Sides are there?” Ladybug asked. “Six so far. Morality, Logic, Creativity, Dark Creativity, Anxiety, and Deceit. I think Deceit might be the hardest one to catch, though. In the show, he disguises himself as my other Sides sometimes.” “That could be a problem, but let’s find the others first,” Chat Noir suggested. Thomas also suggested, “I can take Patton and Virgil back to my hotel room if you think they won’t help with--” “We can help Ladybug and Chat Noir,” Virgil interrupted Thomas, looking slightly ticked off. “You can go back to your hotel room and rest until we find the others.” “Wow, okay, no need to get snappy with me, Virgil.” Thomas looked defensive. “But then again, I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be anyway. I’ll go back to my room and try to get ready for the show. Just be back before then.”

Thomas leaves for the hotel room. Ladybug and Chat Noir wonder which Side to look for next. Patton chooses Logic.

Virgil explained, “That’s Logan. He kind of looks like a teacher with his nerdy glasses and tie, likes Crofter’s jam, and he sometimes yells—" “FALSEHOOD!” Virgil clicked his tongue and pointed in the direction of the noise. “That.”

Ladybug, Chat Noir, Patton, and Virgil follow the noise and find Logan in a heated debate with someone. The four either help Logan win the debate or “help” Logan lose the debate, depending on where they stand. After the debate is over, they get Logan to focus on the matter at hand. They ask Logan where the other Sides might be.

Chat Noir realized, “Hey, you’re a smart guy. Do you know where Deceit might be?” “Actually, he goes by Janus,” Logan clarified. “I don’t know why Thomas would tell you otherwise…”

None of the Sides can think of where Janus could be, so they go after Roman and Remus next. As “twin brother” Sides, there’s a likelihood they will be together. They find them prepared to spar in the park.

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at the two combatants: one was dressed in a white prince outfit with a red sash across his left shoulder. He had gold shoulder pads and a shield symbol on both arms. He held a katana tightly in his right hand. The other looked like a distorted mirror of the first. There was a white streak through his hair and a curled moustache the first lacked. His “prince” outfit was black and green, perfectly contrasting the first. He also wielded a mace in his left hand. Logan explained, “The one in white is Roman, and the one in black is Remus.” Virgil looked at Roman and Remus, and then at Ladybug and Chat Noir. He commented, “You know, if Chat Noir was evil, you guys would look a lot like Princey and the Duke over there.” Ladybug frowned as he watched the “brothers” fight. “I don’t see it.” But Chat Noir did - it didn’t help he’d been Akumatized and fought Ladybug before, even though those memories were a blur. Chat said, “That doesn’t help. We need to turn the fight in Roman’s favor and snatch Remus while he’s distracted.” “It should be easy. We outnumber the Duke five to one,” Logan pointed out.

Ladybug, Chat Noir, Patton, Logan, and Virgil help Roman fight against Remus. Chat manages to hit Remus’s middle.

“GAH! SON OF A B*TCH!” Remus shouted. Chat looked confused at the strange bleep noise. “Did you just…censor yourself?” Remus’s eyes widened and he smiled as he realized where he was. “Wait, I’m in the real world now! I can swear for real! SON OF A—” Patton covered his ears from the string of curses coming from Remus’s mouth. All the Sides were fazed, but Ladybug and Chat Noir weren’t. I mean, they cursed in their videos all the time.

Then, Chat pins Remus with his staff.

Remus groaned as Chat pinned him down with his staff. Wait…now the Duke was moaning. Then he moaned out, “Harder, daddy~” Chat made a face of disgust, and a groan followed.

Soon, Remus is captured. The Sides, Ladybug, and Chat Noir go back to Thomas’s hotel room. It’s getting close to showtime, and they still haven’t found Janus.

“Where do you think this Janus would be?” Ladybug asked. "If you know where to look, Janus isn't that hard to find." Then, Virgil glowered at Thomas. "Isn't that right, 'Thomas'?" Thomas put on a knowing, evil smirk, and everyone reacted: Virgil just seethed, Patton and Roman looked spooked, Logan’s eyes widened, Remus giggled, (add other Dark Sides?) but Ladybug and Chat looked confused. “Thomas” chuckled, “Oh, Virgil, I didn’t expect you’d be the first one to figure it out again.” “Um…I’m lost. Figure out what?” Chat asked. Virgil answered, “That’s not Thomas.” Before the Sides, Ladybug, and Chat Noir’s eyes, the air around Thomas blurred, like a blur effect being used in real life. When their view sharpened again, a figure who looked like Thomas stood. His face almost resembled Thomas’s, if you could overlook the left half was covered in snake scales and had a slitted eye. He wore a bowler hat with clothes that probably wouldn’t look out of place in 19th-century London. Almost all of what he wore was yellow, giving him a clear motif. Now able to see clearly, Ladybug said the truth: “So you’re Janus.” “Who’s she? Never heard of her~” he quipped. Roman groaned, “Can’t you at least get new material? Then again, Creativity’s someone else’s job.” “What was your plan, anyway?” Virgil asked. “Get everyone in this hotel room together, and when we least expect it…kill us?” ��You would kill us, Janus!?” Patton looked shocked, even though he knew Janus wasn’t the most moral Side. “HA!” Remus blurted out. “He wasn’t gonna kill all of us, idiots- just you, Roman, and Logan. You know, ‘the good guys.’” Chat asked, “Is that true?” After trying so hard to keep his plans under wraps, Janus could only look at everyone in the room awkwardly as he tried to come up with an answer. “…No…?” “He doesn’t usually tell the truth,” Logan told Ladybug and Chat Noir. “So he was going to kill us, to leave Thomas’s remaining personality at its very worst.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir get ready to fight Janus and Remus, when suddenly:

Janus sprouted another pair of arms, then a third pair of arms. It was now his six arms against the six of them...until Remus managed to escape his binds. He snapped right through them with the four black octopus tentacles sticking out from his back. He said to Chat and Ladybug, “Looks like someone forgot to mention to you guys we’re shapeshifters. Until I saw Janus doing it, I kinda forgot myself~!” Roman said, “We can defeat Janus and Remus together! We outnumber them by headcount, and you have my sword!” He drew his katana from his belt. “And my positivity!” Patton added. “And my strategy,” Logan added. Then, the Sides and the heroes looked at Virgil. He groaned, “Okay, I guess I contribute something to the team, but I’ve been put on the spot and can’t think of it!” “And I guess you guys can shapeshift like the Dark Sides?” Ladybug asked. “You’re all Sides, so…” “I think Ladybug has a point.” Patton grunted as his body convulsed.

Patton transforms into his frog form from "Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux."

Lily Pad-ton: “No more Mr. Nice Sides!”

The Light Sides, Ladybug, and Chat Noir fight against the Dark Sides. Someone manages to push Remus into the mirror.

“HEY!” Chat shouted, getting Janus’s attention. “BILL CIPHER KNOCK-OFF!”

Chat Noir pushes Janus into the mirror, but not before Janus gives a cryptic warning:

“Remember Mark: snakes have a way of shedding their sk—” Chat pushed Janus through the mirror before he could finish his warning. Chat Noir looked to Ladybug and said, “What? Look, that was an ominous message, but do you really believe th’ lying Side knows what’s goin’ on?”

The Light Sides go into the mirror. Ladybug and Chat Noir pull Thomas out. The heroes consider breaking the mirror, but Thomas doesn’t want to make a mess of shards in his hotel room. Then Ladybug remembers he has to purify the mirror, and does so. The next day, Thomas tries to return the mirror, but he finds the thrift shop is gone. He leaves the mirror at the empty storefront, but as soon as he leaves, someone else grabs it…

Episode 2 starts with a more detailed explanation of the Cursed.

Master Fu: “Cursed Objects are much stronger than Akumas. They can create emotions where there are none, and drive a sane person mad.” Mark: “Thomas didn’t have an emotional response to the mirror, though. However, he did say he felt a pull to it. So the Cursed Objects manipulate thoughts and feelings.”

Episode 3, Gang of Grumps – the Grumps are re-Akumatized (or rather, Cursed) into their previous forms after Suzy tries to do something nice for Mark, since she knows he’s trying to maintain work-life balance as Ladybug. The other Grumps don’t know what’s going on, but Suzy insists on helping him. A mysterious woman (the villainess) gives all the Grumps matching friendship bracelets after insisting it’ll help them – she even gives a spare for Mark to wear.

After Mark rejects them, they turn into their Akumatized forms: KittyKatGaming, Starbomber, Weathidor, Animator, and the Music Master.

Ladybug manages to convince KittyKatGaming to de-Akumatize/throw off the curse, and she throws the bracelet away. Ladybug purifies it and then asks for Suzy’s help as Queen Bee.

Once Queen Bee uses Venom on Weathidor, Ladybug purifies Brian. Without their most powerful Akuma/Cursed, the Gang of Grumps quickly dissolves. Back to normal, the Grumps console Mark. Then Suzy talks to Mark alone about what’s really going on. She says she hates to keep secrets from the rest of the Grumps – especially her husband – but hopes that they’ll get alter egos soon too. The episode ends on Mark and Suzy hugging.

Episode 4, Detective Abe – This episode takes place during the filming of In Space with Markiplier. They are filming the noir scenes when Mick Lauer comes in dressed as Detective Abe. However, he’s supposed to not be wearing a hat in this scene. Mark and the rest of the cast and crew start to hear a film noir monologue. Mark realizes somehow, Mick’s hat has become a Cursed Object.

Mark screamed, “Everyone scatter!” and the crew obeyed. He ran with them. Behind them, with a FWOOM, a bubble of monochrome-colored energy appeared.

The Cursed Object turns everything in a certain area film-noir-themed. Mark transforms into Ladybug and calls Master Fu. Master Fu arrives with the additional Miraculous. Ladybug chooses the Monkey Miraculous and gives it to Amy. She uses Confusion to screw with Detective Abe; suddenly the world is covered in polka dots and everyone’s wearing Ladybug’s mask. Ladybug uses this distraction to grab Abe’s hat and purifies the Cursed Object.

Mark asks Mick what happened. Mick says he was given a new outfit by a wardrobe assistant he’d never seen before. Mark wonders if this is the same person who gave Thomas the mirror and the Grumps the friendship bracelets.

Episode 5, Furious Fu – This episode is like the original “Furious Fu” episode. However, instead of involving an amnesiac Fu being Akumatized, a still-Miraculous-Master Fu buys a cursed paintbrush from the villainess. Su-Han still shows up and brings Fu’s status into question, especially when he finds out the Miraculous are spending a long time away from the Mother Box. Fu stands up to Su-Han when he comes looking for him. However, this allows Fu to become Cursed, channeling his anger into his transformation into Furious Fu.

Ladybug, Chat Noir, and maybe some of the other Miraculous users help to save the day. This helps to convince Su-Han that Fu made the right choice in picking Miraculous users. However, he still doubts if Fu should keep the Mother Box. He’ll be keeping an eye on Fu and the Los Angeles Miraculous users.

At the end of the (or beginning of the next) episode, Fu has a conversation with Su-Han. He tells him he thinks someone is targeting the Miraculous with cursed objects. He describes the woman who gave him the paintbrush and Su-Han can think of only one person: a woman called Huli, the Fox. She was a former student to the Celestial Guardians, much like Fu, but the Guardians saw her lust for the Miraculous’s power. They banished her from the temple, but she managed to sneak her way back in, bringing cursed objects with her. After defeating her, they sealed her in a prison cell she could not escape from. When the temple came back in “A Heist with Ladybug,” she escaped during the chaos. Su-Han warns Fu that she will be hard to defeat, even with the Miraculous’s help, so he will do all he can to get the other Celestial Guardians to come here.

Before Su-Han leaves, Fu asks his opinion: because he’s worried Huli may find out he’s the current Guardian, he asks if Su-Han thinks Mark would make a good guardian. The episode/scene ends before we hear Su-Han’s response.

Episode 6, Holidaze – Huli creates a Cursed that puts people in the mood to vacation/party instead of doing their jobs. That includes the heroes. Ladybug gives the Snake Miraculous to Ninja Brian and tells him the plan.

Ladybug: “Brian, have you ever seen Doctor Strange?”

Ninja Viper traps Holidaze in a “I’ve come to bargain” scenario and wears them down after dozens of five-minute time loops.

Ninja Viper: “Your vacation time is running out. I’ve made sure of it.” Holidaze: “You cannot do this forever.” Ninja Viper: “Just try and stop me.”

Ninja Viper is exhausted afterwards and knows he’ll never be able to pull that off again.

Throughout this season, there are gaps in the episode numbers. Currently, there are no episodes 7-11, 14-18, 20, 22, and 24.

Episode 12, Blue Wail VS Plastic-themed Cursed - This episode is a mix of “Crocoduel” and “King Plastic.” It’s also a sequel to the “Age of Akumas” episode Blue Wail. The aquarium tour guide refuses to let the aquarium be supported by a manufacturer she knows is harming the ocean. Not only does it borrow the dueling Akumas/Cursed from “Crocoduel,” but this AU’s version of Purple Tigress makes her debut here.

Episode 13 – Suzy is captured by a Cursed, and her twin sister Jean must take Queen Bee’s place. Huli suspects Suzy is Queen Bee from the encounter with her during "Gang of Grumps," so she sends a Cursed to target her specifically. Luckily, she doesn’t have the Bee Miraculous on her at the time. Ladybug retrieves the Miraculous and gives it to Jean. He explains what she needs to do to protect Suzy’s identity. Jean accepts and becomes Queen Bee for the rest of the episode.

Episode 19 – A Cursed that can multiply shows up. Would probably be less like “Megaleech” and more like “Sapotis.” Ladybug gives Ross the Mouse Miraculous, thinking his ability to focus on multiple projects at once will be a benefit to him using it. Ross insists on the name Rat King, despite Mullo’s insistence that she is a mouse.

Ladybug: “Why do you want to be known as ‘Rat King’?” Rat King: “Look, Ladybug, you came to me. You know who I am. So you must know I give off rat energy.”

Episode 21 – A Cursed captures Mark, so Ethan takes up the Ladybug Miraculous. He gives himself the name Scarab Boy. When he meets up with Chat Noir, he assures him that Mark is still alive, just captured.

Episode 23, Party Crasher – Remember the previous episode, Gang of Grumps, and how it ended with the foreshadowing that more Grumps would become heroes? And then they become heroes in the following episodes? Well, it all comes to a head in this episode.

This version of “Party Crasher” is a party hosted by the Grumps, to be a little more gender-neutral. I haven’t pinned down who Party Crasher is, but probably someone with a tie to the Grumps.

The Grumps all become heroes: Suzy becomes Queen Bee, Barry becomes Storm Dragon, Brian becomes Ninja Viper, Ross becomes Rat King, and Danny becomes Bunnyx. But Arin doesn’t have a Miraculous yet. Master Fu, who has managed to sneak into the party, gives Arin the Pig Miraculous. He uses Gift to show Party Crasher what he really wants: to enjoy a party with the rest of the Grumps. Mister Pig promises Party Crasher will get what he wants if he rejects the Curse and lets everyone go. Party Crasher does so, and he enjoys the party with the rest of the Grumps.

Episode 25, Heart Hunter - As the name implies, I would like to do my own take on the “Heart Hunter” episode, based on an early synopsis that stated Heart Hunter would be a two-headed dog. Of course, this serves as a distraction for the real threat Huli is about to unleash. Ladybug tries to meet up with Master Fu, but Huli and the Ladybug copy she made in Episode 21 capture the real Ladybug.

Huli traps Mark in the cursed mirror. Ladybug, Darkiplier, Warfstache and “The Engineer” (from In Space With Markiplier) come out of the mirror. Basing this off Sanders Sides, Ladybug represents Mark’s morality, Warfstache represents Mark’s creativity, “The Engineer” represents Mark’s logic, and Darkiplier represents the parts of Mark’s personality that he’s tried to hide. Huli and the Ladybug copy leave Mark’s Sides alone, but not before trapping all of them in the mirror.

Mark: “Well, do you have any ideas, guys…?” The other Sides looked at each other. None of them looked confident; not the smug Darkiplier, nor the heroic Ladybug, nor the bombastic Warfstache. And the Engineer… Mark didn’t even know that Side of himself existed until today, so he had no way to read him.

The Ladybug copy strings the other Miraculous Heroes along somehow. Master Fu becomes Jade Turtle to defend himself and the Mother Box.

At some point, Chat Noir sees the truth and realizes Mark’s been replaced with a Ladybug imposter. First, the Ladybug copy can’t purify Cursed items, and the Ladybug copy ONLY copies Ladybug – he can’t de-transform into Mark. Master Fu gives Chat a choice of Miraculous, and he chooses the Rooster Miraculous. Chat Noir finds the real Mark trapped in the cursed mirror and forms a plan to get him out. Meanwhile, Huli takes the Fox and Bee Miraculouses for herself.

Episode 26, Queen Fox - Chat Noir figures out what’s going on and finds the mirror. He feels he can’t just destroy it, lest he destroy Mark. So, he decides to give Jesse Cox the Rooster Miraculous.

Chat Noir: “Ya can’t give yerself a power a Kwami has, or something that’s a ‘wish.’ Ya can’t just say ‘I wish Mark and his Sides were out of the mirror.’”

Jesse gives himself the power to get people out of places they’re permanently stuck. He uses this power to get Mark and his Sides from the mirror safely.

Chat Noir: “We need all the help we can get to defeat Queen Fox.”

Mark, his Sides, Jesse, and Chat Noir join the fight against Queen Fox and the Ladybug copy. Side!Ladybug gives Mark a copy of his yo-yo to fight with. The Engineer fights with his tools. Warfstache fights with a (relatively harmless confetti-launching) gun and a butterfly knife. Darkiplier uses his powers, cane, and hand-to-hand combat to fight.

During the fight, Master Fu gives control of the Mother Box to Mark, to keep it out of Queen Fox’s hands. With all of them working together, they beat Queen Fox and the Ladybug copy. After the battle, Mark’s Sides must go back to the mirror.

“Please, Mark, before I go back…” The Engineer took Mark’s hand. “I want a name.” Mark thought hard. What would be a good name for an Engineer, besides his own? He could only think of the Engineer from Team Fortress 2. He had a name, right? What was his name…? “Dell,” Mark finally answered. “Dell…” The Engineer smiled. “I like that.”

Due to the battle, Mark’s identity is exposed through his Sides. It would be hard not to link him to the Ladybug Miraculous now. Tearfully, everyone has their Miraculous taken back, and Su-Han takes back the Mother Box.

Su-Han: “This may have been Fu’s last wish, but your identity has been exposed, as both a Holder and a Guardian.”

“That’s true…” Mark sighed. “I respect your authority, Su-Han. Take the Miraculous back to the Guardians, where they’ll be safe.” Mark allows Su-Han to take his memories, but Su-Han allows Mark to keep his memories. He also offers Mark the chance to study under the Guardians. Mark decides that maybe it would best to go back to a normal life…for now. However, Su-Han leaves the offer open to all the Los Angeles heroes.

#miraclous ladybug #miraculous ladybug au #sanders sides #markiplier #jacksepticeye #my writing

4 notes · View notes

spookyserenades · 2 years ago

Note

hi hi!!🤗

how are you doing? 💖

1st i wanted to tnx u 4 replying to my ask(previous one)!!😁💜

it made me squeal & kick my feet in the air sm i almost fell from my chair 😅

i'm super glad that despite the messy delivery, my love 4 your writing & story could reach u regardless! ^^

i read ch 7 this morning & OMG!!

thank you thank you so so much 4 both writing it & tagging me too!! i really appreciate both!🥰🥰🥰

i don't even know where to begin w/, there were so many twists & new developments & new things packed in this ch! it wasn't a simple treat, it was a whole course meal!😂

i also got my believes abt your writing reconfirmed! you truly are a master of the craft: your meticulous care 4 details,your capacity in extending the story in a long-slow-burn type of development but making always feels like it's going smoothly,w/out a halt in the plot nor a dull moment, your outstanding skill in making the story feel so realistic & immersive even in the smallest of things as you describing the glass-stained lamp in the mc's room & bringing it up enough times that it starts being a familiar element that i associate w/ mc,w/ their room & can now envision every time an event is taking place in that room.

i also i'm head over heels over how u slowly built a sense of growing familiarity between the mc & the hybrids, by giving them peculiar characteristics,quirks or habits that we saw the mc pick on throughout the whole story & that she thinks abt & is growing accostumed to/notices. also some reoccuring jokes(mc being a lightweight 4 example) or dynamics too.

the way your writing brings each character(side characters included ofc,i love them sm!!) to life will never cease to amaze me!! it makes getting invested in your story so easy,so inevitable!😣💜💜💜

you left ch 6 on an absolute cliffhanger & that same energy & trepidation followed also in the beggining of ch 7, so smoothly & naturally!!👏👏👏👏

------------ (details abt ch 7 below,just in case i don't wanna ruin the surprise in case anybody still haven't read it yet)-------------------

Right after witnessing her mother have a vision & getting warned abt it, the mc also has a confrontational moment w/ her mother that made me stop & reflect a bit abt her reaction: my 1st impression was that she just kinda wanted to not adress it nor aknowledge it out of anxiety,fear & also sense of guilt toward picturing tae like that, like she needed to try to convince herself that it couldn't be true & kinda just take it out on her mom(a tiny bit) bc of the shock & to push away the possibilities. at 1st i simply thought that she was just & rightfully freaking out, but then it stuck w/ me how she brought up in frustration how she stopped card reading & spiritual practice,esp things surrounding knowing the future bc it drove her friends away & almost broke important bonds in her life. i'm no expert when it comes to paganism & its various practices but i'm not avert to learning abt or simply seeing it portrayed as well(rapresentation matters afterall^^) & although i'm not pagan myself,i hope i am respectful when i say i can relate to mc anyway in her relationship w/ it. in my opinion(as a non-pagan,so i hope i'm not being insensitive😅) using practices like card reading or rituals to have glimpses of the future/visions & such are harmless if u only practice them to have the occasional guidance &/or reassurance in your life, but the moment they become smth too reoccuring,smth u depend to much on & you base your every move on,it can turn harmful, it can make u unable to make decisions in your life,turn u paranoid & suspiscious of ppl & you no longer have the reins of the course of your life(not saying this is the current situation ofc,i was just wondering if this is smth that mc experienced when younger,thus why they are more wary now). in the story, multiple times her mother or mc herself bring up the fact that once you tapped into this wrld,u cannot get back & her mother mentioned how mc naturaly has a peculiar capacity & a penchant(?) 4 it. i understand the concept of "once u start,u can't go back" & her mother has never pressured her,rather always tried to give her a positive nudge,an encouraging push to get back into it more but i do feel like there's also some pressure, like it's inevitable & mc will have to get back into practicing(which i feel could be described as being a little cornered but only bc mc had a negative experience in the past that made her take some distance from practicing, not bc the practice or beliefs themselves are neg ofc,i don't need to know paganism well in order to respect it anyway!) so i'm super excited to see how mc's relationship w/ paganism will change & take shape in the future: if she'll further distance herself or if she'll find smth that gets her closer & if it will happen only out of necessity or if she'll find a way of integrating it again in her life by her own terms & level of comfortability bc of her indipendent choice to do so. i'm also curious to know more abt both namjoon & jk's own relationship w/ paganism,faith & their personal believes.

if i may draw a parallelism, mc's situation seems a bit similar to ( not exactly & in a more light way) religious trauma. now,i'm aware that's not a very fitting term since paganism wrks differently & idk if trauma is the right term 4 how she still is impacted by the experience(both past & present) w/ the malevolent entity. it's a bit complicated to explain(i suck w/ wrds srry😭) but by religious trauma i don't mean it in the traditional sense that we apply to abrahamic religions 4 example in which the trauma is created by the abuse & twist of religion to use it as a tool of power/justification 4 bigotry against the individual or the harm prepetruated by the other belivers themselves against the individual, in the case of paganism & this situation i mean it in the sense that the relationship mc has w/ paganism & practicing in of itself changed, specifically due to a negative experience, that still influences the way she interacts w/ the beliefs,customs & practices. bc of that, i'm very intrigued by what u gonna gives us in the future & how she's gonna heal (or not) her relationship w/ it. i dunno if i expressed myself well enough & if i said smth offensive or made a comparison that is disrespctful i apologise, u don't have to but it's more than welcome 4 u to point out so i can both learn & take responsability!😊

now talking abt the main course of this meal,tae's revelation!

i had my mind set on his confessing that it was bc of self-defense ofc & not premeditated either but oh boyyy if u had me faltering & growing anxious & unsure w/ all the amazing & beautifully written build up,the rollercoaster of emotion & tae's sudden changes in mood & pauses while spilling the full truth! the sigh i let out when reading mc's reaction, understanding & reassurance given to poor tae, i probably sounded like a leaf blower XD

i thought that would be the only main drama of the chapter so i felt more relaxed now just to get hit straight in the face w/ the namjoon' bomb?!!!

NAMJOON?!!!!!!!😳😳😳😳💀💀💀💀

i never saw it coming,i never expected such a reaction nor that it would come from him, i never could have predicted such a turn of events, it felt like a slap,like a bucket of ice. literally stopped reading to climb down the ladder & pace around the room in shock o-o

we def know that he runs hot 'n cold, has his moments & he never was fond of tae,to say.

but he always struck me as somebody pretty level headed, quite in control of his actions to the point of being calculative sometimes & who's used to keep his blood cold even in hot situations. i felt like a clown🤡

4 awhile his reaction made absolute 0 sense to me,no matter how hard i squeezed my peanut sized brain i couldn't find smth that would justify or push him to react like that,to that extent & say those exact wrds. but all bc a) i was seeing it from my pov & b) i assumed i already knew the character well enough to be able to see patterns in his behaviour/way of thinking which is not true cause we know barely 3 things abt his past tbh(my bad honestly😭)

1- i thought that he reacted this intensely bc of fear of tae & protectiveness over mc & her wellbeing(him already not liking the bear hybrid but now actually hating him bc he perceived him as a threat or possible danger to mc & the others) but that flew right out the window the moment he started talking shit abt mc directly to her face(not proud of it, but 4 some time i really wanted to slap him a couple times😅). esp when he said that she was a spoiled rich grl that basically always acted out on nothing but her naivety & whims. that felt like he said it w/ his full chest & meant it😳, like he had been feeling that way abt her 4 awhile but never voiced it out untill now🤔. which threw me back to the time when after the vinyl store etc & after eating icecream at the fountain, his mood soured & he started giving the cold shoulder to mc & i wondered if smth crossed his mind in that moment that reminded him abt smth in his past or a bitter thought abt mc?

2-it's more of a theory: maybe he has a hard time seeing the genuine love & care behind mc's choice in adopting them all bc he thinks all there's behind her actions is her "naivety, saviour complex & habit of just getting whatever she wants bc of growing up rich & spoiled" bc that's the only type of ppl he saw around him(when it wasn't straight up abusive ppl)?

3- his worry abt tae putting them all in danger w/ the law could be quite reasonable but i think is way inflated in his head. mama raised no snitch & i don't think there is any reason to suspect that any of the other hybrids or mc herself would rat tae out. plus tae himself said that if it ever comes to it,he would never confess that the others knew abt him. plus the poor teddy bear hybrid is already shouldering the guilt from 1(cough well deserved chough) kill & is already living in worry of facing legal truoble bc of it so if namjoon thinks tae would do it again w/ any of them when there's no reason nor need to beside the fact that tae would never as well, just confirmed to me that all the accusations,assumptions & concerns that pushed namjoon to react that intensely & against tae were based on fear mostly. i mean,it makes sense to experience a bit of fear given the situation ofc, but unlike mc's & the others initial doubt & fear, his seems diff, like there's smth personal behind it...which bring me to my last point!

4- namjoon already has his fair share of negative experiences w/ the law bc he faked his documents to join the club etc & he got found out. but we never got to know how he got found out, if somebody ratted him out or smth else. so it makes sense that he would be more wary & tense than others knowing that the law could be involved again & also knowing that he would have to be in a position where he has to trust others to not sing like a bird. but still, he seemed very nervous & paranoid even... is he hiding smth like tae did? we still don't know what kind of ppl were in his life b4(beside mc's mother) or how exactly he came to know abt the "supernatural" & such. also b4 ending captured & at gerry's he mentioned that he lived as a wolf in national parks to jimin but didn't go into details. maybe he's trying to fly off the radar bc otherwise he risks smth legally & tae's situation put him on edge? idk,i'm speculating,rambling,being delirious at this point??😭😂 i'm trying to find smth in his reaction that may make it more understandable & feel less as just him being straight up an asshole & i'm kinda boiling my brain & feeling quite stupid w/ the things i came up w/😅

talking abt the actual fight instead, i really love your choice in making jk the one that descalated the situation & kinda acted as a mediator/sedative authority. unusual but suprisingly it fits him & the story very well! plus it also shifted his position in the house & dynamic,w/ mc mostly, but also w/ the bear & the wolf hybrids. god bless him 4 handling it so well & preventing the worst! xd

all the hybrids(minus poor hoseok but understandable😓💚) played a role into taking off some of the responsability & weight on mc abt having to do damage control & managing the situation. it really felt like it's no longer a relationship where she's primarily the one that takes care of them & navigates all the relationships & duties & things to do to keep things running in the house, but they all try to do their part & some of her part too if it gets too much,like this time. they are not just basking in the comfort & love, they are enjoying it ofc but they are also serious abt returning it & resolving conflicts etc inside the house also to take care of her as well. 4 now it's out of gratitude & also liking & caring abt mc & it's going so well w/ the slow burn!!!

quick note- you wrote abt jin having ptsd/anxiety/phobias & w/ that obviously come also triggers & i noticed how in the scene by the fire while making s'mores he seemed fidgety & uncomfortable w/ getting close to the fire so hoseok was roasting them 4 him. & knowing he was a "performer" in circuses b4, i wonder if they used fire or heat to punish him? or if smth happened to him that has to do w/ fire. u don't have to tell me if you don't want to ofc!^^ it's just me noticing this lil thing & being too curious xd

...uhm

i think i wrote enough(too much even) & should just stop by now😅 thank you 4 everything, 4 sharing your breathtaking writing, for giving me time out of your day when u reply & also 4 giving me space 4 my rambling even tho i feel i may have taken advantage of it a bit by now😓🙏

i hope this ask doesn't feel overwhelming & i hope you'r doing ok & are happy & healthy!!🤗🥰💜💜💜

Hi hi hi lovebug! I'm doing well lately, how have you been? I'm so happy you've dropped by to chat again! 🥰

Thank you so much for continuing to support Trouvaille and send me such wonderful feedback! I feel incredibly lucky and grateful to receive your love and all of your thoughts on the story 🥺💘

So again AHHH thank you so so much for your sweet compliments about my writing, my heart is gonna explode seriously 😭 (you know how to make a girl blush!!) I'm really pleased that you are feeling immersed into the story, especially in the jam-packed, plot heavy update in Chapter Seven! So cool that you can envision the home and the settings too, I was hoping that I was describing the surroundings well enough that readers could see it in their minds!

One of the most exciting things about writing an OT7 fic is planning out all the little quirks and traits each of the boys will have, on top of the MC and side characters, as well. Since about a week has passed since MC adopted the hybrids by Chapter Seven, she's become accustomed to some of the most obvious quirks some of them have (Hoseok's three note whistle tone, Jimin's cowboy manners addressing her as "Miss Y/N", etc.) so over time as she gets to know them more intimately, other unique traits will reveal themselves! I love a good few reoccurring jokes as well, I'm happy that you've picked up the lightweight one LMAO... eeeee but I'm so glad that their quirks are making them seem more realistic, thank you!! 💜💜

fdjkasfh I wanna apologize for leaving the previous chapter on a cliffhanger, I tend to do that a lot... I'm a sucker for shock value 💀

So MC and her mother! Their relationship tends to ebb and flow, due to the fact that their personalities are quite different. MC tends to be a bit more grounded in reality, conscious of responsibility, and perhaps a bit overly concerned with the opinions of others, at times. Meanwhile, her mother is loud and proud, free spirited, and almost childlike in nature. In a way, MC might feel as though she often had to act as the adult growing up, while her mother may have felt MC was a bit too rigid. Besides that, the spirituality that MC and her mother share also plays a big part in their relationship and dynamic. MC's big issue with her mother is the perceived nosiness that comes with card reading for others, particularly behind their backs. It is mentioned I believe in Chapter Three that MC's mother would often do Tarot readings for MC and then report back to her on the results, which in turn irked MC while she had taken a break from her spiritual practice. MC may have had instances in her childhood where having an eccentric pagan mother discouraged others from wanting to get closer to MC and her family. When her mother had the vision about Taehyung, I think MC's main concern was Tae overhearing the interaction, and either getting spooked or his feelings hurt in consequence. Truly, MC thought the vision to be so absurd at first, that she wrote it off almost immediately.

Paganism is an interesting sort of religion to practice, as there are many paths under the umbrella term of paganism one can take. One pagan that does card readings might not do herbal magic, another might not use Tarot or oracle at all and focus their energies on candle magic. Really, it is up to the practitioner how they practice, what they believe, and what works best for them. MC and her mother are a good example of this. Her mother tends to lean on Tarot and psychic ability, while MC (who is just now getting back into her practice) tends to be comfortable with spell crafting-- we'll dive more into her practice in the future! Also, no worries- you aren't being insensitive whatsoever (in fact, you're very respectful), I love answering questions on paganism and The Craft! I hope I can be a friendly person for anyone to come to and ask questions like these, it's fun to discuss with others! ✨💖

I like that you pointed out MC's mother being one to "nudge" her back into her practice, that IS absolutely what she is doing. A big theme here, as well, is the idea of "you see them, they see you" when it comes to working with spirits or any kind of magic. That's why it was important for me to stress the urgency MC had with performing some protective magic after the altercation with that entity; protection is key for a pagan/witch. We'll see in future updates how she hones her craft and makes it her own (on her own terms!) As well as how Namjoon, Jeongguk, and perhaps the others (!) beliefs and practices take form and change over time.

I really like the parallel you drew to the concept of religious trauma. MC primarily pulled away from her practice in attempt to get that nasty entity she accidentally summoned as a teen off her back, and sort of moved on like nothing ever happened. I think that the religious trauma parallel is a good comparison to what happened to her, but rather it being caused by an institution itself (for example, The Church), it was caused by her own lack of knowledge/research on the spell she was casting. I think she's on the right track to begin healing from her mistake, and now she knows to research before casting unfamiliar spells, and stay on top of protective magic!

NOW FOR TAE'S REVELATION! AHHH I'm so excited that I could keep you on your toes throughout the scene where he recounts what he had done! That scene was particularly tricky for me to write, and I revised it many times, so I'm glad that it had the sort of dizzying and uncertain pace that I was hoping for. Tae needed a big hug after that, and I'm glad MC gave it to him!

ANNND Namjoon too! I guess my love of shock value manifested itself into a fight scene, and making Namjoon into the instigator... You're right; he's always been suspicious of Tae, and definitely runs hot and cold. And on the other hand, "calculative" is one of the best ways I could describe wolf hybrid Joon. I think that he while he was flying off the handle in rage during the fight, he was still rather cold and cutting with his words, as if he hadn't considered the effect they'd have. I think because he is overly calculative, he can sometimes read a little too far into situations and get into his head, thus creating volatile or explosive emotions he cannot ultimately control.

So another reader had a similar theory that Namjoon reacted in this way because he was jealous or perhaps feeling the intense or instinctual need to protect MC from Taehyung. Though, when he turned his attention to MC and began taking it out on her, that shit was uncalled for. MC was already feeling a little insecure about her lack of knowledge when it comes to hybrids, so Namjoon inadvertently triggering that insecurity by calling her "stupid" cut her deep. She too, in the moment, believed that Namjoon truly felt that way about her, hence her breakdown. I like the connection you made to the outing with the hybrids when he suddenly grew distant and somewhat mean; perhaps this circles back to the jealousy he might feel (MC was surrounded by Yoongi, Tae, and 2Seok all paying her particular attention).

I also like your theory that Namjoon might have a hard time accepting that MC simply wants to give all of the hybrids, himself included, the opportunity to live safe, happy lives. I think the whole "spoiled rich girl" comment was something that just came to him, considering the significant sum she had handed over to adopt them all, the large house she lives in, etc. I think he said the first insulting thing he could think of in his blind rage-- but it is and interesting theory that he may be jaded towards those he perceives to be rich and spoiled, especially because we don't know too much about his past.

Because Namjoon's past is still a mystery, I love that you've come up with so many theories to fill in the gaps! The idea that he could be nervous about Taehyung being a fugitive because he himself is is an interesting theory! 🤔 It would certainly make sense for him to explosively react over the news of Taehyung perhaps attracting law enforcement to the house and in consequence, Namjoon himself... but for now, we simply don't know!

Jeongguk being the one to break up the fight was another twist to Chapter Seven. I'm sure not only MC, but readers as well were surprised to see bristly, avoidant Jeongguk get in the middle of those two, but I think he might have been the only one to do it successfully. Teaming up with Yoongi (who calmed MC down and then escorted Tae from the room), Jimin making her tea, and Seokjin staying with her while she fell asleep-- they all managed to put aside some of their smaller spats with each other in order to restore order in the home. I think at the end of the day, all of the hybrids are seeking a peaceful, happy environment to live in, so breaking up the fight was a priority to the others in the home. In future updates, we'll see how dynamics change and flourish between the housemates as time wears on and new situations crop up! 🤭

Final little note, for Seokjin-- he was indeed a performer for a circus, so the possibility of an accident involving fire happening to him is extremely likely! We still don't know how he was injured prior to his adoption, when MC picked him up from the shelter. Fire could definitely be included in his list of phobias that we know of (so far, we know that crowds are a phobia, for sure!)

THANK YOU thank you thank you for sending me another lovely message filled with your wonderful thoughts and theories, I truly enjoyed taking the time to read through them and reply as thoroughly as I could. I also thank you for reading and supporting Trouvaille and remembering so many little details tucked away in all of the chapters, it really made me so happy to discuss the story with you!! I hope you have a lovely week, are eating well, and staying healthy!! 🩷💓💗💘💖

#long post #asks #trouvaille #dana's thoughts #thank you so so much for all these lovely theories and food for thought!!!

8 notes · View notes

walker-extended-universe · 2 months ago

Text

The Only Constant in Life is Change, Chapter 1

Relationship(s): August Walker & Sadie Yoo, August Walker/Sadie Yoo, Geri Broussard/Cordell Walker, August Walker & Cordell Walker & Stella Walker

Tags/Warnings: Military, PTSD, Depression, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Hut/Comfort, Friends to Lovers

Summary: After a few years in the military, August is starting to lose his shine for life. Watching the rest of his family move on and be happy without him around isn't helping his mental state, so the next time he has leave, he heads for Dallas instead. What, or rather who, he finds there changes his outlook.

Written for @whumptober Day 29: Fatigue, Burnout

Taglist: @theladywyn, @ihavepointysticks, @klaatu51, @itsjessiegirl1, @neptunium134

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

You would think August would be used to the whole routine by now. He flies to Austin, gets picked up by Uncle Liam at the airport, has a “welcome home” dinner, and catches up with his family for the week. He hears all about how things are going at Ranger HQ, how things are going at the Side Step (both the Austin location, and the one in OKC), how things are improving around the ranch, how Stella is doing in her law studies….

It was nice. Or, at least, it had started that way. In the beginning, when he was dealing with homesickness and wanted nothing more than to get back home in between bouts of “saving democracy” on the other side of the world. But, about one year in, things started to feel a little hollow. That was when hearing the stories on how well his family was doing (without him), while he stayed relatively the same, started to sting. That was when he started to count down the days until he went back to his base and caught up with his unit there.

Now, approaching three years in, he was starting to dread these returns home. Coming back to the same people in the same home- but nothing was ever really the same. Because Stella was thriving as she headed into law school and Liam was working his way back into the legal field in the mayor’s office and Mawline and Ben were growing their wedding business to include other events and Gramps was looking more toward retirement and Geri and Dad-

Geri and Dad were having a baby.

And August?

August had a little more trauma, but that was it. He still felt like the same insecure kid that was looking for a place in the world. Some days he felt like he’d found it, but most days he wanted to be anywhere else.

But where else would he go, except back home? To the people who felt more different than familiar, who wouldn’t know how to handle him now any more than they did when he still lived at home? To the place that felt stifling more than welcoming?

“That’s great,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. “I’m really happy for you. Just don’t expect any babysitting out of me.”

That got a laugh out of the rest of the table, which gave him enough social grace not to speak for the rest of the evening, the timer in his head ticking as he got closer and closer to getting back on that plane.

—-------------------

August knew he should go home to Austin. He knew his family would be happy to see him and give him updates on everything that had changed. He was especially sure his infant little brother had “missed him” despite never having met him before.

He just��wasn’t in the mood. Maybe it was selfish and stupid, but he wasn’t sure how many more times he could handle seeing his family be happy and thriving without him.

So, he decided to visit some other family instead.

“You sure you don’t have anything better to do on American soil than fix up this old place?” Uncle Willy asked, following him down to the basement to look at the water heater.

August shrugged. “I know how to do this stuff anyway. And…. I don’t know, Austin just doesn’t feel much like home anymore.”

Uncle Willy huffed. “Well, if you say so. Have at it then. Far be it from me to turn down free labor.”

August laughed. “Yeah, right. I’m getting food out of you at least.”

“Better than the plumber charging $800 just to look. Dinner is served at 6 and put away at 8. Don’t be late.”

But, his great-uncle was right; hanging around an aging B&B, while nice and relaxing, wasn’t the only thing he wanted to do with his limited free time away from his unit. So, after doing some more repairs (and eating a delicious meal), he got dressed and headed for a bar.

He tried not to make a habit of drinking, but it was a nice place to go to get away from things. And, if he got lucky, he’d get a nice, long, sexy distraction from his darker thoughts.

He’d just gotten a drink at such a bar when one such distraction found him.

“August? August Walker?”

He turned his head and saw- “Sadie?”

She grinned and took the barstool next to him. “I thought it was you when I walked in but I wasn’t sure…. I feel like it’s been forever.”

“Been a couple years at least,” he muttered, taking another sip of his beer.

“Yeah, I guess it has. You’re off in the military now, right?”

“Yeah, shipped off a few weeks after graduation.” He got the bartender's attention. “Buy you a drink?”

“Sure; far be it from me to decline a free drink.” She smirked and ordered a cocktail for herself when the bartender came over. After he left, she leaned on the bar, trying to meet August’s eyes. “So, what are you doing here? Are you on leave or….?”

He nodded. “I’ve got a couple weeks before I have to ship back out.”

“Right…. And you’re here instead of Austin with your family because…..?”

He sighed. “I needed a change of pace. Going back to the same place all the time gets boring after a while.” And if I’m here I’m not faced with all my worst mistakes. “Besides, Dad and Geri just had a baby and they probably don’t need the extra stress.”

Sadie hummed and sipped on her drink. “Yeah, they have been busy. I’m happy for them though; Geri’s a great mom and it’s kind of fun watching your dad run around trying to be SuperDad.”

August nodded, biting his tongue. The last thing he wanted to hear is how much better of a father his dad was now that his kids were grown up.

“So, what are your plans while you’re in town?”

He shrugged. “I’m staying at my great uncle’s B&B and helping him out with some repairs. I wasn’t planning on much else except some sight-seeing.”

Sadie nodded. “Well, I’m not doing much of anything either. Maybe we could hang out while you’re here? I’ve missed you….”

Such a stark admission made August actually meet her eyes. “Yeah, maybe we could. I-I don’t know if you have my number-”

“Give me your phone.”

He handed it over without a word and watched her tap on his screen. “There, now you have my number and I have yours. Call me tomorrow and we’ll do something. Thanks for the drink.” She handed his phone back with a wink, grabbed her drink and sauntered away, leaving him staring after her.

—---------------------

August did call her the next day, but he managed to make himself wait until after lunch. He wasn’t some lovestruck kid anymore; he was an adult that understood social cues.

Sadie answered and invited him to an outdoor theater not far from the B&B. “They’re doing a local talent showcase. I’m not in it this time but it’s still fun. At least the snacks will be good even if the acts can be…questionable.”

He’d agreed in a heartbeat and ignored Willy’s teasing as he got himself ready.

Honestly, it was a nice day out.

Until some kid got into the fireworks early and they got shot off, just a few feet away.

August covered Sadie instinctually, tackling her to the ground and holding her there, waiting for the word in his ear that it was safe.

Only…. He wasn’t wearing his comms. He wouldn’t be getting that order. He was in Dallas, Texas, not in the middle of a warzone. And Sadie wasn’t one of his fellow soldiers.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” He quickly got to his feet and helped her up. “Sorry about that…”

“It’s really okay.” She smiled. “It was about time for us to leave anyway. Wanna come back to my place? I’ve got some tracks I want a second opinion on.”

It was a thinly veiled excuse, but one that he appreciated. “Sure. That sounds nice…..”

—----------------

“I can’t believe your music career hasn’t taken off,” August said. “I mean, you really are amazing. You should be touring with Taylor Swift!”

Sadie giggled. “Yeah, yeah…. But really, what did you think? If I just wanted a yes man, I could’ve asked any of my simps on SoundCloud.”

“They really are good,” he promised. “Makes me wish I had some of my mixing stuff. I’d love to play around with some of those sounds.”

“Well, maybe next time.” Sadie hummed. “Are you still doing music stuff? Like, during your breaks?”

He shrugged. “Eh, kind of. I have some of my music in the bunks and there’s always instruments in our common areas that I mess with every now and then. Just…. I don’t have much time for it and when I do have time…. It’s hard for me to get in the mood, yaknow?” Between the rough schedules and the trauma, he couldn’t get in the right headspace to even try and “channel” all of that into music.

Sadie nodded. “And… That’s okay with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean- You’re not happy. You’re avoiding going home, you’re not doing music anymore…. Are you really okay with that?”

August sighed. “It’s not that simple, Sadie….And it’s not that bad. I get paid and my family gets to brag about me. Plus I get that veteran discount….” He trailed off and tried to smile, but he could tell she wasn’t buying it.

“Are you really putting your future on the line for a crappy discount at a random restaurant?”

“You know that’s not why,” he muttered. “It’s- It’s complicated.”

Sadie looked like she had more she wanted to say, but just nodded and kept quiet. “Okay then. Well, if you want somewhere to crash besides your family, you’re welcome to sleep on my couch. I get lonely here, anyway.”

August managed a real smile this time. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

—---------------------

This time, Sadie was the one to drive him back to the airport. “When are you coming back?” she asked as he unloaded his suitcase from her trunk.

He shrugged. “Probably in a few months. It depends a lot. I’ll let you know before I head back though.”

Sadie nodded. “Sounds good.” She pulled him into a hug. “You be careful over there okay?”

August hugged back. “I will.”

“You better.” Sadie pulled back, then got on her toes to peck his cheek. “See you around.”

Surprised by the kiss, August just stared as her car pulled away.

#whumptober2024 #no.29 #fatigue #burnout #fic #walker #military #ptsd #my writing #my fic

1 note · View note

casspurrjoybell-33 · 5 months ago

Text

Unlikely Places - Chapter 10 - Part 1

*Warning - Adult Content*

Chapter: 10 - Tingly Feeling

It was Tuesday afternoon and I needed a break.

I had received an email for a new work assignment yesterday morning with a bunch of jumbled information attached.

Sorting out the mess had taken far longer than it should have.

It wasn't until later that afternoon that I had discovered why.

An intern had mistakenly included data from another project.

I had to syphon out all of the useless incorrect information before anything had begun to make any kind of sense.

It had taken me half of today to re-review and remove the skewed data.

The numbers in the margins were now finally starting to talk to me.

So here I was halfway through a second day only just getting started on the job I was supposed to have begun yesterday morning.

Talk about a waste of time.

Frustrated, tired and hungry I pushed away from my desk and headed into the kitchen.

Cicero trotted behind me.

I absently pet his head as I opened the fridge door.

I pulled out the pitcher of fresh citrus ginger tea and poured myself a glass.

I sighed as I sipped.

The unproductive day was bothering me.

Since meeting Pierce, seeing who he was and how he was,and even worse, his questioning my ability to do my job, I worried about my lack of progress on this project.

Granted it wasn't my fault but that didn't matter to me.

I pictured his disapproving cold face and his direct forceful gaze.

The familiar electrical sizzle swept up my spine at the mental images I conjured of him.

My reaction to him I had finally concluded, was one part fear, one part agitation and one-part unknown.

I still hadn't been able to put my finger on the other emotion I felt when he looked at me, I just knew it was unlike anything I had experienced before.

Whether it was good or bad was undetermined.

I stared out the kitchen window as I replayed the last few minutes, I was with him on Saturday night.

One moment he had been giving me a hard time about stuttering which had of course only made me stutter more and in the next... well the next that was where it had gotten a little weird.

That was where the unknown emotion filtered in and my uncertainty took over.

Pierce was a dynamic individual.

He was charismatic, bold, cocky, arrogant and a whole host of adjectives that I could use to describe an Alpha male.

He was similar to my friends but he seemed to be on a whole other playing level.

Every single one of those words when in reference to him, intimidated me.

I was the complete opposite of him in every way imaginable.

But despite that fear he also made me feel... tingly.

My cheeks burned as the word popped into my mind.

The tips of my ears felt hot.

It sounded... sexual.

As had been the dream I had had of him the night we met.

I rubbed my sweaty palms down the sides of my pants before opening the refrigerator back up and reaching in to pull out various ingredients to make myself a couple of sandwiches.

Along with the tingles, thoughts of Pierce brought with him jitters and butterflies and a jumbo-sized cup full of uncertainty.

So much uncertainty.

Like for starters, he was my boss.

He had full say over an important aspect of my life.

He could take away the job that I loved.

The way he treated me at times, I couldn't help but worry if it was something that he was already considering.

Then there was the fact that he had come to my home.

Come and not said why.

His ignoring of my repeated attempts to find out, bothered me.

On the one hand I knew I should only worry so much because despite the cold mocking person he had been, he had taken care of me but there was no denying some of his behaviors were questionable.

He was such a contradiction.

He was a frustratingly enigmatic man.

I liked simple and uncomplicated.

Pierce was anything but and that more than anything made me want to ignore him, as if I had a choice.

If Pierce wanted to see me, I wouldn't get much say in the matter.

His showing up on Saturday proved that.

Me being employed by him, was another undeniable factor that would put me in his path if he so chose.

It would help if I just knew why he had come.

Maybe then I wouldn't be in the state I was in now.

Then again, maybe not.

There was still the whole physical reaction thing to him that was messing with my head and my body.

The ringing of my cell-phone was welcome.

1 note · View note

dxjinah · 1 month ago

Text

a conscious objector, that's what they constantly tease her for being every time jinah expresses hesitancy to sit in on a 'test'; experiments is all they are every time, varying degrees of broken bodies and minds all seated or lain in rooms that look the same, the only differentiation the level of equipment, the level of security, the numbers on the placards just outside the door.

if an objector is what jinah was, she sure sucked at being one; numbing herself to the specific details as she glances at stickers on the fronts of files of varying thickness, avoiding the gazes that plead with any eyes they meet, her warmth dimmed with nearly alarming ease in the cold sanitarium conditions of her place of employment under watchful eyes.

and when it's all over, it's not right to home she goes, it's to the seediest of bars and holes in the wall, anonymity used as protection like a cloak- which is altogether too easy, because she too, was taught well. her own age of pokes and prods and electrodes and patches of missing hair on her scalp, of starvation and emotional manipulation is but mostly a memory- and now, at nepa's beck and call, and on their dime, one she relives every day in order to survive.

no, if jinah was an objector to any of it all, would her only acts of rebellion be an extra snack for the long-term experiments? a blanket when staff conveniently 'forgot' that basic human decency should apply to others too? would it be the gentle dreams and false realities she wove to provide reprieve when she wasn't supervised?

no, it would be more, she thinks. more, like finding the brother of one of the worst treated here, and telling him. she would find more, hoping to release as many as possible from their personal hells- ones that she helped keep them in. she would have worked harder to convince jaeyong not to volunteer himself in his brother's place, because she knows one thing they value most, twins.

and six months is only the starting lane of what jinah can guess is in store for the boy.

she slips into the room they've placed him in for the night as soon as she can, which feels like not soon enough, and she's not sure if she would have wanted to be there to watch what they did this time, and just how far they're pushing so early on. no, jinah doesn't even want to think about when these tests will take a turn for the worse, and when jaeyong will suffer just as badly despite the assurances when he agreed- jinah should know, if there's one thing the lab can do, it's be really good at 'convincing'.

still, it's part of the job to review the file, to check the notes, including the ones that detail the suspected psychological effects of it all. it's almost like she has the key details burned into her mind, his blood, his brother's, countless others, on her hands alone for being a participant.

his greetings never fail to bring a soft smile to her face, though jinah thinks she's beginning to notice the small cracks in this twin's armor, if only from all her years here- the hallmarks are achingly familiar. still, she half smiles at his banter, extending a carton of fruit juice and a packet of chips to him.

"they're impressed, to a certain degree," she nods at his guess that he was right every time, though it's an answer filled with hesitancy, and there's a but that lingers on the edge of her words, hanging in the air as an indicator that impressed is not what jaeyong wants to be hearing, and the ache in jinah's chest compels her to warn him, while her mind knows there's no use in it. all she can do is simply be here, day in and day out, and hope that she can preserve what she can before nepa decides they've had enough of her antics too, and she returns to the other side of the observation glass too.

"you should eat something," she suggests, 'i don't think they'll feed you tonight' she wants to say, biting back her own doubt of the institution that raised her. "and if your head hurts, i can get something, just tell me."

⎯ ✂ ⎯ limbo ⎯

his ears ring a little. maybe ring isn't accurate. buzz, maybe.

the scientists seem very interested in his power identification ability these days. well, they always have been, but they've been testing it more lately.

(cw: electrocution)

today came in the form of electric shocks - harmless, allegedly. he had to tell the difference between the mutagen they brought in with electricity manipulation and their weird electrification machine they tried very hard to soften into something other than a more palatable electric chair.

surely they know he knows. he's seen what they did to his brother in this place. he knows the brutality they're capable of, so he doesn't know why they're so polite to him - why they act like none of it happened when he knows the discoloration of the tiles in this very room might be from his brother's blood.

but they treat him humanely, or as humanely as they can treat anything they shock repeatedly for the sake of science. to their credit, the shocks really did physically all feel the same. he could just tell the difference.

when they take the contraption they covered his eyes with off and tell him that's enough for today. thank you, jaeyong, he asks, "so, how did i do?"

they don't tell him. they just leave him in the room to recover and leave in his own time, still with that buzzing inside his head. he feels a little strange. disoriented, maybe. who knows what they really zapped him with. maybe it was electricity or maybe it was some brain-eating virus that will turn him into a cyborg for nepa to control entirely.

it hurt, too, but he's been hurt worse before. he didn't yell, or cry - just grimaced at worst. it's gentle, in comparison to what he's seen in daeyong's mind.

but he knows it's getting worse. the experiments were normal at first. blood tests, tests anyone could complete regardless of ability, ripping open scars on chunks of flesh - well, maybe the last bit wasn't normal. it wasn't invasive though, and it didn't hurt.

he isn't exactly afraid of what comes next - of the fact that it's been six months of this and they are shocking him and he doesn't know when this will end, if it will ever end. there's nothing about time in his contract. maybe he will spend three nights a week here for the rest of his life, every day worse than the last.

he thinks of daeyong, and all of his fear and torment - all of the scrambled thoughts and memories and pain, and he wonders if in time, he'll end up the same way.

he still thinks it's a fair exchange, if it means daeyong gets to live a real life now, like jaeyong has lived for the past six years without him. maybe, six years from now, after they've put his brain into a blender more times than he can count, the world will be different. maybe they'll have all the information they wanted and they'll let him go, or he'll graduate to a tier sooner than they anticipated, and let him out of this godforsaken pit for good, to make sure he can always smile pretty for the cameras. he doesn't trust them, though. part of him fears that they'll drag daeyong back here the moment they let jaeyong go.

if they ever do.

the buzz is just a faint hum by the time jinah opens the door, and jaeyong perks up, typical crooked smile on his face within moments.

"they wouldn't tell me how i did," he complains, despite the smile still lingering on his lips. "i got all of them right, didn't i?" he doesn't know if jinah will know the results of the experiment, but he suspects she'll tell him if she does. she was the one that told him daeyong was here in the first place, after all.

⎯ ✂ ⎯ @dxjinah ⎯

#jaeyongdx #t;limbo #weeheeeee i didn't mean to have this be so long but uh..#you know what happens !#thr*;

1 note · View note

bokutoslittlebird · 4 years ago

Text

Request: nii!bokuto fucking y/n dumb at a team reunion party and the whole team ends up joining.

Okay so I made it so the whole team is there but Akaashi and Konoha are the only ones who really get to do anything. The others are enjoying the show.

Warnings: incest, humping/grinding, voyeurism/exhibitionism, watersports/piss play, gangbang, squirting, fire play/lighter use, breeding, dirty talk, cum shots, human urinal, thigh riding, asphyxiation briefly creampie, swallowing urine

Kōtarō-nii + Gangbang [includes Bokuto, Akaashi, Konoha]

It’s just supposed to be a little get together was what you were told. Two hours later, each old teammate of Bokuto was still downstairs, chatting and laughing. Every time Bokuto laughed so joyously, it rubbed you the wrong way. It was like he forgot about you, sitting back and talking to his old teammates. You were supposed to be hidden out of sight, but your needs needed to be met and if that meant walking downstairs to remind your brother you were still waiting for him, that’s what you’d do.

You didn’t expect him and his friends to wave you over.

“[Y/N]! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! Visiting your nii-san, eh?” Komi asked, an eyebrow raised. ‘Visiting’ was one way to put it, but you were actually living with Bokuto, guest room still unused as your belongings were in his bedroom.

“Guess you could say that,” Bokuto threw out, then continued. “She’s going to college here, so it’s easier to live with me than pay for on-campus living,”

“Saving money, I see,” Akaashi piped up, taking a drink from his glass. It was just water, which meant they weren’t drinking alcohol. Bokuto had a soda, but everyone else looked like they were drinking tea or water.

“Hey, [Y/N],” Bokuto tapped you on the shoulder, making you turning your head towards him. “Can you get me another drink?”

“Of course, Kōtarō-nii,” taking his empty bottle, you go into the kitchen to see where he keeps the soda. Since he doesn’t want you to have any, they’re usually up high. Standing on your toes, you still can’t reach the sweet drinks. To speed up the time, you hop on the counter only to feel someone’s hands guiding you off.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Bokuto says, caging you to the counter. “I thought I told you to stay upstairs,”

“I was bored, nii-san,” you whine, pressing yourself against him. “You’re ignoring me,”

“I’m entertaining my guests. You need to learn how to be patient,” he whispers, one of his hands rubbing at the spot between your thighs. “You’re dripping. Have you been touching yourself?”

“It’s not the same, plea—”

“If you’re good, I’ll fill you up so many times you’ll be swollen with my seed, how about that?” You nod your head, still pressing yourself against him. “Stop pushing yourself on me or I’m gonna have to punish you,”

With a final warning, Bokuto gets his own drink and removes himself from you, sighing as he sees your pout. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he pats your head. “Just another hour, okay?”

That’s what he said.. an hour ago.

Sitting beside him was almost too much to bear. Knowing he could take you whenever he wanted to and him knowing you’re desperately waiting for him to touch you, it’s all too much. Even as your thoughts swim with the image of him absolutely ravishingly you in front of his friends, your pleading eyes and a pout his way whenever he glances at you, yet all he gives is his arm around your shoulders. As a good big brother should, but this is getting to be too much.

Sarukai is the one who decided to play a game. It was a silly card game you played as kids, but it was fun to pass time. Since you didn’t wanna play, you had to sacrifice your spot to Akaashi, your bottom instead being placed on Bokuto’s thigh. A warning squeeze on your hip was all you got, quickly telling them that you were cold which they all brushed off, going on with the game. He was like a heater, warmth rising from beneath his clothes, but it just made you more hot and bothered. It wasn’t until he started rubbing a hand on your thigh — inner thigh, included, his fingers brushing against your sensitive area — did you really feel impatient.

You hoped nobody would notice as your body started moving, and it seemed like they didn’t. Legs on either side of his thigh, you rubbing yourself against him, trying to get as much friction as you could. Bokuto doesn’t stop you, his hand instead rubbing soothing circles into your hip as you continue to grind against his thigh. Eventually, you end up humping his thigh as the rubbing effect wears off, only to have him lean down to your ear. “You can’t wait, can’t you? Such a needy slut needs to be punished, you know?”

There’s no other warning, you suddenly being pushed in the middle of the game as everyone shoots back in shock, surprised at Bokuto’s actions. “You’ve wanted this for a bit, haven’t you? That’s why you’re even wetter, isn’t it?” He smiles down at you, prying your shorts off. He then addresses the guests of his abode, “you guys get to see how much my beloved sister loves me,”

With your shorts and panties off, you’re staining the wooden table with your dripping juices as Bokuto gets his cock out. His friends seem into it, sitting back on the couches and chairs, eyes glued to the way Bokuto spreads your sopping cunt, clenching around nothing as you wait for him in anticipation. Licking his lips, he sinks into you, without letting you adjust as your legs tense and your toes curl, squeezing him as he pushes himself all the way in.

“Did you already cum?” He asks, seemingly dumbfounded by your sudden orgasm. You don’t answer, simply keeping your head against the table and having your eyes rolled into the back of your head. With no response, he decides to roughly thrust up into you, making you gasp as he pushes in so far, feeling so full as he snaps his hips to yours, your hands grasping at the edges of the table as you moan. Through your blurry vision, you’re able to see his old teammates with their own cocks out, hands around the thick appendages as their eyes are trained on how well you take in their former captain’s cock.

It’s only mere seconds before you’re mewling, back arching as you’re clamping around his cock again, body twisting with the force of your orgasm as you shake. Bokuto removes himself from your cunt, though, making you whine. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna let my friends have a turn with you, though. You seem eager Akaashi, wanna go first?”

“I’d much prefer her mouth than her pussy, Bokuto-san,” he says, moving around to your head. His cock comes into view, to which you eagerly open your mouth to take him in, tongue killing out to lick at the tip.

“I won’t pass up free pussy,” Konoha chuckles, taking Bokuto’s position and pushing into you. “Thought she’d be loose after taking a cock that big, but you’re tight as a virgin!” He laughs, pinching your clit as you squeeze down on him even more, muffled moans coming from your throat which is stuffed with Akaashi’s cock.

“Mhm! I taught her well, didn’t I?” Bokuto hums, guiding one of your hands to his cock. “Don’t forget about me, baby girl,” he says, low as he watches your hand jerk him off. Despite your eyes not being anywhere around his form, your hand works expertly from experience of handjobs. Akaashi seems pleased himself, fingers occasionally tracing your jaw and throat, only to close your nose as he face fucks you. Konoha seems to be enjoying himself, as well, your legs secured around his waist as he thrusts into you, his thumb rubbing at your bundle of nerves that has milky fluid coating his cock with each thrust.

“I’m close, can I do it inside?” He asks, looking at Bokuto, using his own hand to guide yours.

“No. You can cum in her ass, but not her cunt. That’s only for her nii-san, isn’t that right?” He directs the last bit at you, fingers pinching your nipples as your body jerks. Konoha decides to pull out, letting his semen paint your stomach white as he groans, making sure every drop lands on your skin. Akaashi is right behind him, closing your nose as he shoots his own load down your throat, your eyes glazed over as you drink it all.

Konoha takes it upon himself to push back into your cunt, feeling your walls clamp around him once more time. It’s too much and you feel something warm fill your insides, eyes widening as you think he put a load in you. When he pulls out, however, you feel it trickling out as the warm liquid drips from your cunt. “Seems she’ll only take cum, not piss,”

“She’ll take it, won’t you, pretty girl?” Bokuto coos, fingers keeping your mouth open as Akaashi takes his turn, warm liquid filling your mouth as you struggle to not let any spill. Once he’s done, Bokuto closes your mouth and nose to force it down, your eyes squeezed shut as it tastes bitter. “See? Just gotta know which hole to use. It’s okay, I’ll clean her out so you can use her again,” he hums once more, pushing his thick cock into your still leaking pussy. The force of his thrust has you mewling, drool spilling from your lips as your body jostles with each thrust. “There’s a cute little trick her cunt will do if you give her a bit of pain,” he grunts, fishing a lighter out of his pocket. Your eyes widen at the familiar click of the item, brief light before it’s shut off. He hands it to Konoha, who then flicks it on as he brings the fire close to your face, the light dancing ridiculously close to your cheek. Akaashi keeps you fron moving your head, sweat beginning to form as Konoha brings the lighter closer, the flame barely licking your skin as you scream, tongue lolling out as your squirt all over Bokuto’s abdomen, his groan overwhelmed by your cute noises. With another thrust, he’s spilling his own load into you, fill you up exactly how you wanted him to.

Konoha shuts off the lighter, then locks across the mark against your cheek where the flame touched you, pressing a sweet kiss in apology to the hot skin. “Now, what do we say, [Y/N]?”

“Thank you for filling me up nii-san. I’ll take anything you give to me, I promise,” you sweetly say, another moan as you feel Bokuto’s piss fill you up as well, his thumb rubbing your clit.

“Don’t worry, baby. Only I’ll be able to breed you, but my friends can have their fun, can’t they? I’ll promise to give you all my attention later, is that okay?” Your response is a nod of the head, the rest of his friends eager to have your holes and your hands around their cocks.

2K notes · View notes

versadies · 3 years ago

Note

hi dan! how are you? congrats on 1k!! for the prompt event, can i request libra + kaeya + fluffy angst in which the reader realizes kaeya is their soulmate when he lies, on a very stressful day for both of them, about them never being a bother when they need a favor, so reader starts avoiding him bc they become unsure on how to act around him? either hc or drabble is fine. thank you so much! have a great day!

bothersome (hc scenario)

penpal: i'm doing fine (other than getting ready for school in a few weeks), hope this is to ur liking anon ! have a great day as well <<3

prompt: libra the scale, lie-tattoo soulmate au

pairing/s: kaeya x gn!reader

sypnosis: hc on how you avoiding kaeya after finding out he’s your soulmate.

includes: fluff/slight-angst, short fic, mentions of alcohol, reader overthinking, mentions of injuries

you need a drink. immediately.

when being assigned to a high class commission for the first time, you honestly thought things will go smoothly, even with reckless pallad tagging along.

but then the two of you came across to three ruin guards, causing you to be ditched by pallad and left you alone to deal with the three mechanics.

by the time you came back to mondstadt, you were filled with bandages covering your bruises and injuries littered all over your body, earning concerned stares from people as you pass by.

you could care less from the attention you received, all that was running through your mind is that you weren't able to complete a once-in-a-lifetime commission and missed your opportunity.

katheryne was more than happy to at least reward you for slaying the three ruin guards that was apparently a commission. despite getting paid by the end of the day, you were still disappointed.

as soon as you claimed your rewards from katheryne, you immediately took a visit to angel's share, hoping to find a certain man to chat with.

your eyes brightens when you spotted kaeya sitting on one of the stools in front of the counter.

"hey," you called, causing kaeya to look at you as he watches you sitting down beside him.

"rough day?" he asks with a teasing grin, gesturing your treated wounds. "how was it?"

you let out a sigh, quietly asking charles to give you your usual drink. "the commission? what can i say if i didn't do it at all?"

kaeya pats your shoulder reassuringly, taking a sip of his drink before putting it down. "care to entertain me with the details?" he asks.

"ruin guards." you said nonchalantly, thanking charles– who gave you your drink. "they all suddenly appeared and my partner ditched me."

he sighs dramatically in response. "what a coward."

you nodded in agreement. "indeed. what about you? got a rough day too?"

kaeya simply shrugs in response. "that's for you to not find out and for me to only know." he replied, swirling his drink around.

you stayed silent for a while, looking down at your glass with a blank look on your face.

now that you think about it, there was one certain commission with a generous reward that you could ask katheryne to let you do– not to mention the fact that with kaeya's help, you can definitely finish this commission in no time.

"say kaeya," you look at the calvary captain curiously, your eyes lands on his. "you don't mind if i ask you a favor, right?"

"are we going to bury or burn the body?" he asks jokingly.

he lets out a light laugh when he sees you rolling your eyes at his joke. "i'm merely jesting. you don't have to worry about being bothersome to me, you can always ask me for a favor."

you smile gratefully at your friend. "you have my thanks, kaeya."

as the both of you continue chatting the night away while enjoying your drink, you couldn't help but notice an itch in your covered arm, your hand constantly scratching on the bandage with irritation.

it wasn't until you removed the bandages the next day when you realized why it was itchy.

you were sure the words imprinted on your arm would haunt you for a while.

"you don't have to worry about being bothersome to me, you can always ask me for a favor."

you stared at the words on your arm for a while, unsure how to feel with your recent discovery. surely this was just a coincidence, right? but what if it wasn't–?

does this mean.. he finds you bothersome and annoying?

you frowned, your hands brushing against the tattoo whilst ignoring the pain from its touch. perhaps you should avoid him and not bother him unless necessary.

you let out a sigh, grabbing the new bandages you got from the cathedral and start wrapping it around your injuries, the thoughts about kaeya's true feelings about you never left your mind.

since then, you started avoiding areas where you know you'll encounter the man, whether it'd be angel's share, the knights of favonius headquarters, and even the entrance of mondstadt, deciding to go to the right entrance of the city and go to katheryne from there during the morning.

you were quite proud that you managed to get away from the calvary captain's sight, not minding the new change of routes and the hindrances you had to do in order to avoid kaeya like a plague.

this went on for a week. you no longer heard of the man and he the same. every time you see at least one glance of his familiar figure, you would immediately head to the opposite direction, ignoring him calling out your name should he notice your presence nearby. you're honestly grateful he didn't try to chase you.

even though you're okay with avoiding him, you couldn't stop your head from thinking about kaeya, wondering if he's now happy that you're no longer bothering him.

it didn't help that you've been debating with yourself on whether or not you should tell kaeya, a person who finds his own soulmate bothersome, that you're his soulmate.

deep down, you knew it was best to tell him, he deserves to know after all. besides, it's not like the world will end if you tell him, right?

you were simply walking around windwail highland– looking for certain items for a commission when you spotted him standing not too far away.

your breath hitches when you see him looking at you direction, spotting you right away. oh crap.

without another thought, you immediately turned away and started jogging to the opposite direction, praying to barbatos that kaeya isn't followin–

"my, i didn't know you'd be a slow runner." you felt your heart jump from kaeya's sudden voice, causing you to stop your tracks in surpirse when you see kaeya jogging alongside you and stopped as well.

he chuckles at your reaction, crossing his arms with a stilled-grin plastered on his face. "so now you're not running away from me anymore?"

you tried to walk away after those words, only for kaeya to suddenly grip your wrist and stop you from going anywhere.

"what do you want, kaeya?" you ask calmly, trying not to look at the man behind you as you stare at the direction ahead.

his grip on your wrist didn't falter. "care to tell me why you're suddenly avoiding me like i'm a plague? did i say something wrong?" he asks.

"it's not that."

you stayed silent, now unsure what to say. you knew that you'd expose yourself right away the moment you lie in front of his face.

you then sighed, looking down at the ground in defeat. it's now or never.

"am i... a bother to you, kaeya?" you questioned, scared of his response. will he lie again?

his grin faltered, taken back by surprise from your question. "what?"

you turn behind to look at kaeya, causing him to let go of your wrist. "i... i need you to be honest with me. am i a bother to you?"

you watched as kaeya stayed silent, looking at you with a serious look. "what made you think of such thing–?"

"remember when i asked you if you wouldn't mind me asking you a favor?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. "do you remember what you said to me during that night?"

before kaeya could say anything, you slowly raise your arm to his eye level and lifted up your sleeves, showing him the exact words that he remembered saying on that night.

his grin completely disappeared.

"when i saw this the day after that, i had so many things to think about. i thought i should be happy that you're my soulmate– but why did... why did it had to be because of this lie?"

"y/n i–"

"i avoided you because i thought you think of me as a hindrance to you and i didn't.. i didn't want to bother you and your duty as the calvary captain." you explained, your shoulders slumped. "but i kept thinking if i told you that i'm your soulmate, you would've been disappo–"

your eyes widens when you felt his arms wrapping around you out of nowhere.

"i'm not disappointed that you're my soulmate, y/n." he said, hugging you in comfort. "if anything, i'm... relieved."

you furrowed your eyebrows. "what about... what about the favor? why did you lie–"

"i lied because it was a stressful day for me as well," he clarified. "yes, i did find favors bothersome at that time, but i never find you bothersome, so i had no choice but to say i'm okay with your favors because it's from you."

you felt yourself slowly relaxed when you didn't feel any itchy feeling around your body, letting out a sigh in relief as you continue to let kaeya hug you to his content.

"so does this mean.. you want me as your soulmate?" you ask hesitantly.

he smiles genuinely for the first time, holding onto you tighter and nodded.

"yes."

540 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years ago

Text

twelve hours, m | jjk | ... and now

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You have twelve hours to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. He's about to get married. You're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. Long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. Nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

this is part ii | click here for part i | total wc: 23k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse and graphic violence, including the reader becoming physically scarred and having panic attacks; rich, this bachelor party is on a fuckin' YACHT, the best man is LOADED; JK and reader interacted in high school; angst and fluff and feels; cheating; this is mostly smut XD; (in part i) high school smut + intense adult smut (fem reader, striptease, semi-public sex at school, nipple play (he's a bit obsessed with them), dry humping, m-masturbation, handjob, cumming on tits (and diamonds), cum-eating, mirror kink, spitting, tit fucking, m-receiving oral, scratching / biting / marking, penetrative sex, doggy); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV

non-idol!AU; film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin

> eyebrow pierced, tattooed, and long black-haired JK (with undercut) in a black suit because that's what we need in this life > look for TXT's 'you and me and the sky at 5:53' :)

time left: 06:49

No.

Don’t leave me.

It was the same then as it was now.

Jungkook reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back to him. Her eyes widened, pivoting quickly on her toe, snapping her heel down and cutting the turn short, black skirt flaring out. The swift glimpse of her legs in the high slit, the gentle bounce of her breasts in the slinky fabric. Her manicured hair bounced, dyed blue-black and giving her skin a surreal quality.

He held on.

Please don’t disappear.

“What?”

Her brows knitted together. She didn’t pull her arm away, but she was steadfast in her posture, not letting him push her around. Not that he ever could.

“He asked me to escort you back,” Jungkook found himself saying. “If not for your sake, then for his peace of mind. I don’t want to be a liar.”

Her features softened.

His fingers around her arm, touching that soft skin once more.

I care. I care a lot.

Jungkook realized that, in a way, he had never moved past those classrooms, those touches, those kisses, those moments.

“You can let go now.”

She said it patiently. Always patient with him despite his overzealous and sometimes clumsy antics, putting up with it even when she didn’t have to. He looked into those eyes and found those walls were falling away, little by little. Winged liner, red lipstick, it didn’t matter, it was the same expression, defiant eyes and hint of a scowl on those lips. Ready to fight, but not him.

She was always a fighter and the opponent was always life itself.

“I don’t want to let go.”

He didn’t expect himself to say the truth, but he did.

She smirked, reaching up, her fingers covering his tattoos for a moment, placing them on the back of his hand. This warmth. This feeling. It was not the same as the rest, and he knew that now.

“Hm, well, you must realize this looks a bit awkward. You wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, would you?”

Wouldn't want someone to see you talking to me, right?

“You will let me escort you?” he insisted.

She pried his hand from her arm and lowered it, turning the other way.

“You are welcome to do as you like. I won’t stop you, golden boy.”

time left: 06:41

He followed you, surrounded by moonlight reflecting off water.

It streamed through the windows, lighting the red carpeted hall along with the dim sconces. You found yourself stepping in each lighted square, avoiding the thin dark beams of the windows, a little game for yourself, like how children avoided the cracks in the concrete sidewalks, except you were on a lavish yacht wearing Louboutins with a handsome man in step behind you.

It was quiet and yet it wasn’t. Small sounds, footsteps, distant muffles of talking through the walls, the faint sound of bass as you walked away from the party, the sound of the ocean ever present, your own breathing.

Jungkook’s breathing.

Familiar.

Once yours.

You looked to your right, to the window, seeing his reflection. His profile, hands in his pockets, tattooed arm standing out against the black background of his clothes, dressed formally but always a bit sheepish about it, as if he wasn’t sure if it looked good on him, but it always did, even the school uniform. He still had the youthfulness about him, even as a man.

Your eyes found his and he was watching your face in the glass of the window.

You stopped abruptly, pivoting on one heel to face him.

Impulse.

Your younger self would have bristled, glaring, accusing the eyes and snapping, what are you looking at?

Jungkook started, realizing you had noticed, and tripped, his black hair suddenly disturbed and tumbling over his eyes as he struggled to catch himself, hands flying out of his pockets.

You caught one, lacing your fingers with his, and gripped tightly, yanking up.

He righted himself, gasping. Looking up, bent over and long legs awkward, somewhat like a fawn trying to get on its legs for the first time. Those big brown eyes, parted pink lips. Familiar.

Your joined hands fell exactly where the window beam was, shrouded in shadow.

“Something on your mind?” you chuckled, shaking your head.

He straightened. You loosened your grip on his hand, but he held on. You frowned slightly, raising your brows.

He swallowed hard.

“Can I hold your hand? Please.”

Back then, you would hold his hand, hiding behind corners and dashing past, holding your breath, light steps, leaping from shadow to shadow, bodies close, breath mixing. Showing him all the secrets of the school that you had found while wandering, a fun little game with a reward at the end, school uniform being shed, skin to skin, his body against yours, his heartbeat in time with yours, his lips on yours.

You shrugged and turned back around, his hand tightly around yours.

time left: 06:35

Jungkook held her hand.

In an instant, he looked down, staring at their joined hands.

This was different.

And then he saw them.

Scars, all over the back of her hand. He could feel the scar tissue on her palms too, lines on her fingers even though she was holding him loosely. He had memorized every centimeter of her beautiful hands from back then, and these lines were not here before. These were not scars from living life. These had been cuts, healed now, unseen from far away and even up close. Perhaps they had been filled in with tattoo ink in a color to match her skin tone so they were less noticeable.

No one would know unless they were holding her hand or looking for it.

Without knowing it, Jungkook clutched her hand tighter, a sudden ache in his chest.

He had found bruises on her sometimes.

I fell down the stairs. It's nothing.

He had found welts.

Stupid fight with some dumbass.

He had found a criss-cross pattern of cuts on her leg.

I tried to jump over a fence and fucked up.

He glanced at her other hand loosely by her side. The same. He could even see her palm and there were many, many lines, all over her palm, healed cuts. Drugs? But he knew it wasn’t. Not because he had a romanticized idea of who she would be in his head, but because that was the nice answer.

That was the reasonable answer.

“Oh!”

“Excuse me, miss.”

His eyes flickered upward to see a young woman in a short midnight blue dress pausing, looking from her to him, cheeks flushed, not being subtle about it. The glittery fabric picked up the moonlight, accenting her curves and long legs. Pretty.

But not sensual.

Not immaculate.

Not teasing and sculptural.

The grip on his hand tightened so much that he inhaled sharply, fingers nearly crushed by her hold.

“Have a nice evening,” the woman in black purred, edge of ice indicating the stranger to move along, or, more accurately, fuck right off.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, and yet.

His heart skipped two beats as she dragged him along.

He had no problem looking away from the other woman and fixate on the back of that neatly pinned, blue-black hair, graceful shoulders, corseted waist, swaying hips.

And her hand in his, not letting go.

time left: 06:22

“This is it.”

You turned to see Jungkook looking around, mouth open, gawking at the entrance of the intricately carved wooden door. It was one of the grander, first-class rooms. The red doors were much farther apart and the sconces here were glided with glass-blown lampshades, casting swirls of orange across the white walls, dimmed now from the late night.

“It was nice to see you again.”

It was, even with the bitter taste in your mouth that seemed to linger.

His eyes came back to you, dark brown and clear, focused on only your face, long black strands framing his cheeks, the small mole underneath his lower lip trembling.

“I hope you have your happiness now, Jungkook.”

You did.

You felt a strange, unmovable pressure on your chest. The time wasn’t up yet. You could still try. You could keep your hold on his hand and drag him into the room and hold him close to you, skin to skin, lips on his, and show him all you’ve learned. You could. You could see it in those eyes. He would follow you now, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe for old times sake, maybe out of impulse and bad choices.

You let go.

You let go, because you didn’t want to be a bad choice.

Not to him, Jeon Jungkook.

“You were my small happiness, back then,” you said softly, feeling yourself smile.

It was better not to have regrets. At the time, even you didn’t know how important he had been. The thought of being withdrawn from that school and not being able to see him again made you fight back for once, and it ended in the very thing you didn’t want. It fucked up your hands, it fucked up your life, but somehow you found yourself here now, in expensive clothes on an expensive boat with expensive tastes, able to make a choice between selfishness or selflessness.

Maybe you hadn’t changed much after all, since you found yourself choosing the latter.

You turned away and pulled your hand out of his.

Or would have, if Jungkook hadn’t grasped your hand tighter, yanking you back and shoving you against the door of your suite. Your hand automatically raised to push him back, but he put his whole weight on your body, sandwiching you between the door and himself, making you gasp, trapped between dead timber and muscular hardness.

Now his face was in your face, breathing hard, dark brown orbs shaking and shining with wetness.

You froze, lips parting.

“You were my happiness too.”

He was panting, warm exhale on your lips.

“Not a small happiness. The happiness.”

He squeezed your hand like you were going to disappear.

“I didn’t know then, but I do now,” Jungkook shuddered, towering over you even in your heels. He stared into your eyes. “Your smile.”

You blinked slowly, confused.

“Your smile. I’ve never seen it reach your eyes.”

Heart racing, suddenly breathless.

“Except when you thought I couldn’t see, like when my back was turned or my face was turned away from you,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, long black hair curtaining your faces, sending you back to the shadows. “I saw it though, in reflections. In windows. In mirrors. In those beakers in the science room.”

Was that so? Had that been you? You made it a point not to smile back then, because there had been nothing to smile about. But maybe… maybe when eyes weren’t on you, maybe when you yourself didn’t notice, but, somehow, Jungkook had noticed.

You realized that your introspection had diverted your attention from him, so you made eye contact again, airless at his closeness. Your eyes and his, lost in sweet dreams.

“I want to kiss you.”

He tilted his head and hesitated.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he said to your lips.

His expression was clouded with shame. It was ugly. It made his handsome features ugly and you didn’t like that. You wanted to make it go away. You closed more distance, fingers pressing down on the back of his hand, your other hand raising and resting on his hip, lashes lowering.

“Then kiss me,” you said to his lips.

time left: 06:13

Jungkook kissed her.

From then and now, it was the same.

Euphoria.

But this time, it wasn’t clumsy with colliding teeth and too much tongue that did nothing, sloppy with no purpose. This time, his lips were soft at first and so were hers, breathing in each other’s scent. She smelled warm and musky, like blackberry and evergreens, expensive and lush, but somehow still her, still that girl from back then, comforting and intense, sometimes with the hint of metallic blood, but that never bothered him. Her hand on his hip, stroking it under the layers of fabric, making him shiver, caressing the back of his hand with her fingertips, delicate sigh in his mouth.

The faintest flicker of tongue on the edge of her upper lip, swiping down into his open mouth.

He moaned, feeling the strong wet muscle thrust into his lips, coaxing his tongue, teasing, pressing her body to his, breasts against his chest, their deep open necklines exchanging heat in the air between their skin but not quite touching, and he found himself letting go of her hand, reaching up to grab her breasts.

Her fingers closed around his wrists, forcing him to stop.

He gasped in her mouth, eyes opening.

“They’re not stress balls, Jungkook,” she snickered.

He was breathing hard, ribcage shuddering, heartbeat thundering in his ears, getting louder as he realized her red lipstick was a little messed up, feeling the stickiness on his own lips.

“You need to slow down. You can’t just grope me out in the open.”

His impatience spoke for him.

“Why not?”

His voice was low, octave deepened from lust.

Her lips curved into an amused smirk. “Oh? You have changed. You used to be so worried about someone seeing us. If anything, you should be more worried now, considering your beloved.”

“She’s not my beloved.”

She was still holding his wrists, but her head tilted, watching his eyes carefully. He sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling the guilt.

“We… we thought it would be a good idea. Because our friends told us we look nice together. It would help her career. I wouldn’t have to invest too much into it.”

He felt ashamed, but he didn’t look away because he didn’t want her to think he was lying.

“I never found a smile like yours. I accepted that I never would.”

Her eyes darkened.

“It’s dangerous, Jungkook. Ill-advised.”

He smiled and he didn’t know if it reached his eyes because his vision was blurry.

But he knew it wasn’t a lie.

“You always were. I should have chased you to the ends of the earth, even if you were only a ghost.”

He lifted his hands, hers with his, and cupped her face, running his fingertips over her cheeks, smooth and soft skin, transported back to that moment in the abandoned literature club room, her face cast in an orange glow, actually swirls from glass-blown sconces, but the past and present connected, turning it into rays from the setting sun that lit up her features, and he said what he had said then, because it was the truth.

“You’re really pretty.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You are.”

He leaned forward and kissed the side of her lips gently.

She chuckled.

“You really are something, Jeon Jungkook.”

Her hands let go and she reached into the deep neckline of her dress, plucking something from the corset. His eyes widened as she pulled out the key card from between her breasts, smirk dancing on her lips. She winked at him.

“A lady has many hiding places.”

She flicked her wrist and inserted it into the door, unlocking it without looking.

The door opened and they stepped into her room.

time left: 06:02

“Hnnnnnnngh…”

“Dude can snore.”

“Help me turn him to his side. Don’t want him to vomit in his mouth and asphyxiate,” Kim Namjoon grunted, helped by Kim Seokjin, jerking Kim Taehyung’s body to the side. They backed up and Taehyung immediately flopped to his back, snoring away.

Seokjin thinned his mouth into a line. “Seriously?”

“Ah, here, let’s roll up the towels and use them to prop him up.”

“He’s not as cute as she is.”

“Well, she also doesn’t get piss drunk... ever.”

“Still a better cuddle buddy. Comes with built-in pillows.”

Namjoon blinked at Seokjin and shook his head, letting the odd comment slide. They managed to jam the bath towels next to Taehyung and force him to lay on his side, placing a pillow in his arms that he immediately hugged, squeezing it tightly. The snoring lessened as well.

“Guess we should go back,” Namjoon sighed, rubbing the back of his short hair.

Seokjin scoffed. “No, we shouldn’t. They’re probably all over each other as we speak.”

Namjoon frowned, raised an eyebrow at the other man. “Really? I don’t know. She seemed very hesitant about it. She said she didn’t love him.”

Seokjin snorted, somehow still elegant with his handsome face. “You really believe that?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “That’s what everybody says when they don’t want to admit they’re in love with someone.”

“That’s also what people say when they are, factually, not in love with someone.”

The black-haired man raised his hands and held up his index fingers, wriggling them in the air and bending them ninety-degrees, squiggling them around each other and poking the tips together repeatedly. Namjoon blinked at him.

“What are you doing?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as if it was despairingly obvious what he was doing. “A visual representation of what they’re doing right now.”

Namjoon contorted his face in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“… Becoming worms…?”

Seokjin groaned. “Having sex, Namjoon.”

“… How is that…?”

time left: 05:53

The door to his dreams unsealed and they tumbled inside.

The orange glow of the hallway lights spilled into the room, bleeding into the cool glow that came from the open windows, curtains pulled back to reveal the shimmering sea and bright moon, a contrast of artificial dusk and true nightfall. She pulled him in by his belt, hooking two fingers under the leather, step by sweeping step, grace that made him breathless, orange and silver and shadow, all mixing together, and then the door closed and then the sea and the moon replaced the sunset dreams.

It was a heavy thunk, closing with finality.

The room had many ornate mirrors in it to make the room seem bigger. The had gold vintage frames of different shapes and sizes, reflecting the contents of the room, the large bed and red silk sheets, the black leather chairs and black marble table bolted down to the floor, the matching marble vanity laid out with several black leather cosmetic bags, all zipped up neatly. The had small details on them – red zippers, silver locks, the designer logo engraved into the leather. The suitcases leaning against the wall matched the cosmetic bags, three of them, one larger than the first two.

Jungkook breathed her name, raising his hand, fingers spread.

Her fingertips touched his, halting him.

“Let me do it.”

He spied his expression in one of the mirrors.

The silver moonlight lit up his face and his eyes, reflecting the lust and trust in them.

He looked back to her and nodded.

“Okay.”

Glamour. Fantasy. Descent.

That was the only way he could describe the way she moved, glamour in the way her hand slowly retreated from his, a steady wave and sweep, clearly deliberate. Even in smeared lipstick, the small smirk was present on those lips, stepping around him with a swing of her hips and gentle clicks of her black patent leather heels, the slinky fabric flowing with her actions and also clinging to her body at the same time, using the arc of her stride to spread open the high slit. Letting him watch. He almost turned to follow but she placed a few fingers on his arm, purring softly.

“Don’t move.”

Fantasy, the way she slipped behind him like a shadow, and then Jungkook had to look up into the mirrors, catching glimpses of her behind him. There was no music, but she moved as if there was. If anything, the sound of the waves seemed to form its own music, and he was suddenly more aware of it, the splashes against the hull of the boat mixing with the bass of his heartbeat and the wispiness of her breath, stepping up behind him, body heat making him gasp, looking into a mirror to his left, a window illuminating his right, her hands slipping between the space of his ribs and upper arms, fingers spread like wings, warm exhale on his neck.

No words.

Just a simple kiss to the base of his head and her lips murmuring his name on his skin.

Descent.

One by one, teasing the buttons apart, her fingers ghosting the exposed skin, his heart racing as he watched those hands, peeling apart the button placket, unwrapping him like a decadent sweet. He watched his own expression framed by long curls of black, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, small mole below quivering, seeing more and more of his chest being exposed, somewhat self-conscious, but there was something spellbinding about only being able to see her hands and forearms, pointed black nails decorated with crystals that caught the light, undoing all the buttons until she reached his pants.

“I can–”

“Shh. Don’t let your impatience prevent you from enjoying your own striptease.”

His cheeks heated a little and he lowered his hands, breath hiking as she firmly gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it out. Jungkook took a step back, his back hitting her chest, and gasped again, feeling the softness, but she adjusted her position so her body wasn’t touching his anymore, chiding him playfully.

“Never had someone take off your clothes, Jungkook?” she chuckled against his neck, making his hairs stand on end.

“Ah, well…”

He watched those deft fingers undo the last two buttons. Then they spread apart his black shirt, reaching in, fingertips spreading out over his abs and pecs, tracing the contours of his muscles, switching between her nails and the pads of her fingertips, prickling and dainty. He couldn’t sure her face, but he saw his, and only now registered his own moans, so absorbed by her sensual movement and her touch that he didn’t even realize the embarrassing sounds falling from his lips.

“Not… since you…”

She snickered. “Seriously? What fool wouldn’t want to tear the clothes off this lovely body?”

He could feel and see his flush in the mirror. He looked away quickly, down to her hands exploring his body. “Well, I just… figured it’s easier if I do it. No one has ever been like you.”

“Hmm.”

His hands raised. He traced her knuckles, causing her to pause, caressing small circles on his sternum.

“You want to tear the clothes off my body?” he breathed, not daring to see his own reflection and know his reaction to whatever her answer was.

“I do.”

He placed his left hand on hers, heart beating faster and faster.

“Not tonight though.”

He pulled her palm away from his racing heart, not wanting her to know her effect on him, letting it linger beside his ribcage.

“Tonight, I will show you all I’ve learned, because I was always a better student than you, class representative.”

He found himself laughing a little, suddenly sheepish. “Yeah. Your name was always in the top five percent. I was pretty bad at school. I don’t know why everyone voted for–oooh…”

Her fingers touched his nipples, rubbing delicately, sending strange shivers all over him, shallowing his breath, making him look up and see his dark nipples being teased by expert hands. Her nails nicked them lightly and he whined in his throat, feeling them harden against her fingertips, surprised at the arousal from the simple touch, something he never paid attention to or cared about. His hair was covering part of his face.

Jungkook reached up and pushed his hair back, pressing his chest into those hands.

Saw one of her eyes behind his head, sharp and sultry with winged liner, twinkling as she watched him.

“I voted for you because I thought it would be funny since you weren’t even trying.”

He didn’t really have a response for that, too busy looking at his own face and body, shivering as she tweaked his nipples and pushed them in slow circles, his arms descending to lower the shadows, letting them suspend by his sides.

She shifted beside him and half of her lips appeared, on the toes of her heels, whispering close to his ear, seductive and dark.

“You were good-looking then, and you’re even more handsome now, Jungkook.”

The sound of the ocean, the silver moonlight shining off her blue-black hair giving her skin a surreal quality, almost doll-like, the mirror reflecting his expression, desire and anticipation.

She removed her hands and grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking it down.

He inhaled sharply and her face disappeared.

Dress shirt stripped from his body and flung away, the crisp black fabric flaring out, a shadow cast aside.

Jungkook spun around.

Does this man know the meaning of calm the fuck down?

You rolled your eyes inwardly as you witnessed Jungkook turn around, facing you again even though you told him not to the move. He had always been like this, overzealous, but he didn’t seem as clumsy as before, although…

He grabbed your tits.

Hah.

He blinked rapidly, surprised. “Huh?”

You shook your head and knocked his hands away, sighing. “Pasties, Jungkook. To cover my nipples.”

You reached into your dress and scooped your breasts out, trapping them between the v-neckline. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw the smooth black satin circles flush to the apex of your breasts. They fit perfectly, seamless so they were unseen even under the slinky fabric of the black gown.

“W-Whoa…”

“What? I’m a burlesque dancer. Of course, I have fancy nipple covers. This is basic wardrobe.”

He tilted his head. “I’ve never seen any like these. They look like they’re part of your body.”

You tutted. “Obviously, they aren’t. You know I have nipples.”

And you reached up and peeled them off, flinging them aside carelessly.

Jungkook gasped, staring at your nipples with wide eyes.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen nipples,” you scowled. “You better not be a virgin with how hot you’ve become.”

His hands shot up and you grabbed his wrists again, forcing them back down.

Jungkook whined, eyes shifting back up to you, begging to touch them.

You stiffened slightly. What kind of reaction was that?

“They’re so big,” he whispered huskily, visibly shuddering, shaking with the craving to touch them. “I remember they were soft. And…” His breathing hitched, trembling in your hands. “I remember they tasted so good. Amazing. No one has ever tasted as good as you.”

His eyes flickered back down, biting his lip. He tried to break free, but you held. A single glance exchanged and you let go, realizing he was going to do something other than attack them. Instead, he collected the straps of your dress and pulled them back up, slowly, moaning as the slinky black fabric skimmed over your breasts, your prominent nipples sticking out, hardening from the light friction.

“Fuck, that’s so fucking sexy.”

Well, maybe he did have some appreciation for the visual after all.

“You see why I need the pasties.”

He pulled the straps up, whimpering as he watched your nipples strain against your dress, lifting your breasts in the confines of the fabric and lowering them, lifting, lowering, repeating the gesture.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Jungkook… are you bouncing my tits on purpose?”

His dark brown orbs darted to you. Guilty.

“Um… y-you won’t let me touch them…”

You weren’t sure whether to sigh or to laugh. You just shook your head, backing up out of his grasp. His hands were still outstretched, lips forming a small pout. You almost regretted it, but his expression quickly changed as you casually flicked down the straps, freeing your breasts again, dropping his hands and linking them together under his waist, waiting, now invested in what you had in store.

Oh.

He chewed on his lip and gave you an expectant look.

A flutter in your chest.

The side of your lips curved upward, tongue sliding out to graze the edge of your upper lip before disappearing.

You reached back, leisurely undoing the fastenings of the corset, sweeping your legs so the high slit flared apart, turning around, letting him witness the slow undress. Every action was deliberate, the wide arc of your leg moving the skirt aside to prevent you from tripping as you turned without using your hands, the wide stance of your feet to relieve pressure on your heels and to prevent the dress from sliding down too soon, and even the position of your fingers, poised so you could run a nail down your spine as two of them pinched the hook-and-eye and separated them, traveling down to the top of your ass. Every movement was thought out, details that made up the bigger picture, constructing your ultimate goal.

A sensual striptease.

You caught his reaction in a mirror to your right.

His sparkling brown eyes were wide, jaw dropped.

A lot of people had seen you take off your clothes, but no one made you feel as satisfied as Jeon Jungkook, then in his school uniform and now shirtless in his slacks, hands twisting in front of his crotch.

Then you saw your face.

You were smiling.

You really did smile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Another glimpse at his face and you found him staring at you, silver moonlight glinting off his eyebrow piercing and flooding into his eyes, bringing out the stars within.

You released your hand and your dress tumbled to the ground.

He sucked in a shuddering breath, your name drifting from his lips.

“H… Holy shit…”

You did have an amazing waist-to-ass ratio.

Proper corset training and specific hit workouts to perfect your craft contributed. You couldn’t simply be pretty. You had to be strong and flexible to do the stunts and to walk in your red bottoms for the entire performance. Christian Louboutin didn’t make his shoes to be comfy. He made heels to make feet look enticing and sexy.

The price to pay for glamour and vanity.

It did give you some powerful calves though.

You lifted one shoe, flashing that blazingly red sole of your heel, balancing on one leg for a second.

This was to prevent you from getting tangled on your now fallen dress. You tightened your core, shifting your weight, knowing it would give Jungkook an irresistible view of your plump derriere in your high French-cut black satin panties, the particular style adding illusion to the already stark proportion.

In short, your ass looked fucking fabulous.

You stepped out of your dress, one leg, then the other, taking care not to step on it, adding a little flourish of your hands to create those body lines, ever the performer. You glanced at the mirror and was pleased to find Jungkook hadn’t moved, although his hands were now firmly open, palms down on his crotch, whimpering in his throat.

“Soon,” you promised, and you would keep it.

He nodded, swallowing hard.

You turned your fingers inward, hooking each index finger on the sides of your panties, rocking your hips slowly, lowering your lashes, following the beat of the sea, tugging down the right side a few centimeters and then the left, listening to his breathing and controlling yours. You bent over slowly at the hips, sticking your ass out, listening to his low moan as your glistening slit was revealed, sliding your undergarments down your thighs and calves, placing them carefully onto the floor.

You gradually straightened, breathing out, keeping it as one smooth motion.

You stepped out of your panties.

Now you were clad in only your black patent Louboutins and black diamond choker.

This time, you found your reflection in the mirror to delicately correct your smeared red lipstick with your fingertips. Good enough. You nodded at your reflection. The corners of your mouth curved upwards.

You turned to face him, showing Jungkook your smile.

This smile was real.

The smile she only showed when she was with him. He didn’t know if that was a valid thought or not, but he liked to think so. Besides, no smile meant as much as this one. That he was sure of, because he had been chasing this smile for all these years before finally accepting that he would never find another one like it. It was too precious to belong to anyone else.

His smile.

If his dick wasn’t trying to rip open his pants, Jungkook might have cried seeing it for the first time.

He couldn’t speak, too afraid he was going to lose it right then and there.

She walked towards him.

No, walk wasn’t the correct word. Strode, strut, glided, fuck, he didn’t know, she just moved as fluidly as a shadow and water combined, silver moonlight glistening off her skin and her diamonds, and he knew he would never love the mere act of walking more than when he watched her move.

She stilled.

He stopped breathing.

Her foot raised, toes tracing the inside of the heel, raising the pointed toe, balancing it on the stiletto, and she flicked it backward, causing it to tumble and somersault backward, falling to its side.

Fuck.

She thought of everything.

She balanced on tiptoe and did the same to the other shoe, discarding it with a swift tick.

He made a less-than-elegant noise of her name mixed with a needy whine.

“P… Please…”

Jungkook was quite sure he was a hair’s breath away from ripping off his pants to get some relief.

She finally made her way to stand in front of him. Smile so close now, emphasized by painted lips.

Her hands closed over his, peeling them away from his crotch, holding them loosely. She leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Deep, meaningful, nothing flashy. Drew back, still smiling.

This smile.

He wanted to protect it forever.

“I should have told you that I love you, but I didn’t know it then,” he whispered.

She chuckled.

“I know now.”

She was lowering herself as he spoke, tilting her head at him, inviting him to continue. Getting to her knees, positioning her feet right under her ass, neat and orderly. His hands dropped, leaving hers on his belt, undoing the buckle, her gaze still on him. Looking up at him with amusement, diamonds glittering on her throat, perky tits and nipples, thighs on display, kneeling in front of his crotch.

“I love you.”

Jungkook meant it, every syllable.

He never meant it more in her life.

“I know.”

What?

She casually undid his belt and slid the closure open, unzipping his slacks.

“Wait… what?” he sputtered, blinking rapidly.

“I know you love me,” she repeated calmly.

Jungkook had time for a single blink before his pants were yanked down to his knees. He started, almost falling over, but her hands came up behind his legs and gripped them, keeping him upright.

“Careful,” she purred, stroking the backs of his thighs.

He jerked his head down, hardly able to breathe, shock blossoming as she leaned forward, hot breath warming his black boxer briefs. Eyes on his face, pink tongue extending.

“O-Oh, fuuuck…”

She planted her tongue over his hardness and soaked it with saliva, wetting the fabric and tracing the outline, molding his underwear to his length, sending him into gasping shivers, heat from her tongue and then her lips closing, blowing a cool stream over it, hot and cold, sensation and deprivation, too much and not enough, placing kisses all over and he flinched with every one, savoring the feeling, the touch that was familiar and unfamiliar, everything he wanted.

“W-Wait… that’s dirty…”

“Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.”

Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you.

Pants racking his torso, looking down, and it was the same but different, her lips kissing up his abs, his chest, back to his face, holding him to her, lipstick smeared and now on his skin. Open mouth to elegantly parted lips, gasping as she collected her breasts and pressed her nipples to his chest, squashing the softness to his pecs.

“Spit on my cleavage,” she breathed.

“W-What?”

She raised an eyebrow, knowing that he heard her perfectly well, squeezing her breasts together and rubbing them on his chest, sending the electric sensation of her large nipples dragging across his heartbeat, rolling her shoulders to the beat of the sea, bathed in silver moonlight.

“Spit on my tits, Jungkook.”

“I… c-couldn’t… do that to you…” he moaned, pitch hiking with pleasure.

She didn’t chide him to cover his mouth this time, instead smirking wider, licking her teeth. “Sure, you can. Do it, golden boy. Spit on me.”

She hooked a leg over his hip and grinded her crotch to his wet one, causing him to whine, knowing his cock was so close to her pussy but not yet skin to skin, the soaked fabric barrier driving him insane, his hands coming up to grip her waist and press her down on him, staring into her eyes, inhale shaky and erratic.

She smiled, teasing, sculptural, his.

“You trust me?”

Jungkook was drunk on something he didn’t understand and it was love.

“Yeah…”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips, an intense, burning kiss. She smiled into his kiss, and he knew she was aware of his nervousness, but she remained patient as she always was, pressing back daintily, taking his breath away. He broke apart, trembling.

She nodded, telling him it was okay.

He collected saliva at the tip of his tongue and looked down, spitting into her cleavage.

It shot out of his mouth, splattering over the swell of her breasts and onto his own chest. His ears burned, self-conscious at the dirty act, but she moaned deliciously, backing up, his saliva dripping down and stuck to the inside curve of her breasts. He had a moment to appreciate the image, the most beautiful woman in the world with her diamond choker and his spit on her tits glistening in the moonlight reflected by the sea.

“Wow.”

That was all he could say as the image burned into his memory.

She smirked, falling to her knees, tugging his black boxer briefs down his thighs, his stiff cock popping out, bobbing in the air at the suddenness of its release, and then trapped once more, except this time not in drenched fabric but in her soft, saliva-covered breasts – or his saliva, depending on how he thought about it – but he couldn’t think about it, abrupt pleasure shooting up his spine, throwing his head back in a moan, eyes darting everywhere, surrounded by mirrors, reflections of his face, his long black hair a wild mess, his facial features consumed by wanton lust, his throbbing cock jammed between her breasts and her body sliding up and down, her large nipples rubbing against his crotch and thighs, oh, fuck, the sensation insane, soft and rough and wet, her perfectly pinned hair leaving only the curls at the ends bouncing from her effort.

She spit down his length, adding to the lubrication and her name burst out of his mouth in an erratic groan.

“F-Fuck…!”

She pushed his cock up, almost uncomfortable, but then her mouth closed around the tip, tongue swirling, and he was lost again, ecstasy as she switched to blowing him, pressing her breasts to his thighs, smearing the saliva on them too, covering his cock in red lipstick, soaking every centimeter with saliva, running her tongue over the veins and the head, his hands clenching into fists, close, so close, and then she popped her mouth off, leaving him near tears and in whines.

“P-Please, let me cum, please…”

“I want you to cum on my necklace,” she panted, planting his cock in her cleavage again, lacing her fingers over it, pressing the head down into the slick skin, shock of her words and the escalating pleasure, his chin lowering and staring down at glittering black diamonds and the engorged tip of his length popping in and out of her breasts.

“You want me to… cum on your necklace…?” he echoed hollowly, in utter disbelief.

“Fuck yes, I do,” she grinned, tip of her tongue flickering at the edge of her lips. “Cum on my diamonds, Jungkook.”

Well, fuck.

This was the worst surreal and hottest moment of his life.

He clenched his jaw and thrust his hips into her chest, adding to the stimulation, chasing it, seeing her grin grow, devilish and devious, squeezing him tighter, faster, faster, faster, his hands and his body shaking, gripped by pleasure and her hold, panting her name over and over, his prayer, his drug, his lifeline, trying to hold out, the line inside him pulled taut, thinner and thinner, snapping.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

His hips jolted and he forced them upward, her head tipping back as the thick red tip popped out, twitching and splattering thick streams of white, painting the black diamonds with his white orgasm, clinging to the jewels and her collarbones, dripping down, covering her with his strong and masculine scent. She lifted her body, trapping his jolting cock in her breasts, and he moaned helplessly, rutting against her skin, sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins, uncontrollable flinching and shuddering as more dribbled out, milked out by the tightness.

“Oooooooh, f-fuck… fuck, I’m s-so sorry…” he gasped out, wincing at the mess he made.

“Ah, shut up, Jungkook.”

In awe, he watched her back up slightly, strings of his orgasm all over her breasts, chest, and diamonds.

She smiled and dipped her fingers in it, coating them with his cum and bringing them to her smeared red lips, licking them off one by one, pink tongue slipping between her elegant digits, moaning as she drank up his taste.

Eyes on his, drunk on him.

time left: --:--

Kim Namjoon leaned against Kim Seokjin’s shoulder, listening to the other man’s deep breathing.

They were sitting on the plush green couch in Kim Taehyung’s room.

The night was quiet, nothing but the sound of the waves coming through the open window, a light breeze as Namjoon watched the moon reflect off the ocean. Seokjin had already fallen asleep, head resting against the back of the sofa, tired from the day’s events and needing the rest. Namjoon felt the drowsiness beginning to weigh on him too, using Seokjin’s wide shoulder as his headrest. He had opened the window to prevent the room from getting too stuffy.

It would have been more comfortable to be in that giant bed with the one he was paid to protect, but he hoped she was in good hands now.

He smiled to himself, watching the silver moonlight dance off the choppy waters.

His mind went back to those moments, moments when he had to hold her shoulders and remind her of who and where she was, moments when he sat and waited as she clenched her teeth and a skilled medical tattoo artist filled in those white scars all over her hands, moments of when she finally sat him and Seokjin down and told them why she sometimes woke up at night, screaming and crying, yelling the names of past demons.

She had told them she was sorry, sorry for being weak, sorry for not taking responsibility.

Seokjin had scoffed, smacking her lightly on the head. “Are you an idiot? You have been through enough. Stop it with that nonsense. It’s part of our job, so let us do our job.”

After that, Namjoon would make it a point to check up on her at night, reaching over to soothe her brow as she slept, relaxing her face with gentle touches. He wanted to be there in case she woke up from a nightmare, and it became a habit, until Seokjin too elbowed himself in the bed, muttering that she always got the best digs anyway, so why shouldn’t he? He was handsome enough, after all.

They only accompanied her to events or appearances.

It bothered Namjoon to think that sometimes she was alone in her own home, waking up screaming and crying, and that he couldn’t be there.

He wondered what would come of this.

Jeon Jungkook.

Did he know that if he broke her heart that two ‘big-scary-dudes-with-massive-shoulders’ were going to find his ass and rearrange it?

Hm.

Namjoon closed his eyes, letting the night take him under its wing.

time left: error

The black diamond choker was on the vanity, covered in Jungkook’s cum.

Both of your clothes were on the floor, shoes, pants, dress, undergarments, strewn all over, a mess, along with a now cold, wet, white bath towel that smelled like semen and saliva. It had what was left of your red lipstick on it.

One of the designer cosmetic bags was open.

There were condoms scattered on the bed now, thrown over the red silk sheets.

Jungkook was holding your hands, palms up, tenderly kissing them.

It felt strange, his soft lips on your scars.

Most people didn’t realize it. It wasn’t something they looked for or thought to think twice about, because to them, your hands had always been like that. It would be rude to comment or mention it even if they had noticed.

But Jungkook had known your hands before they became like this.

“It’s why I stopped going to school.”

He kissed the pads of your fingertips, looking at you with those dark brown orbs.

“Did something bad happen?”

You smiled, somewhere between sad and apologetic.

“I wanted to make sure that I could still see you, but unfortunately I ended up doing the exact opposite.”

He squeezed your hands tightly, giving you his own smile. “Still, you came back to me.”

You chuckled ruefully. “Not with the best intentions.”

The silver moonlight highlighted all your favorite features, the cupid’s bow of his lips, the tiny mole underneath, the wrinkle of his nose with his smile, the stars in his eyes.

“You’ve always been dangerous and ill-advised for me, but I always liked that about you.”

You arched a brow. “Hm, you were a shitty class representative, huh?”

Jungkook shrugged. “You weren’t really a class delinquent either.”

You shook your head, pulling your hands out of his. “Look at you. What kind of class presentative gets all these tattoos?” you teased, dancing your fingers up his right forearm and elbow, tracing the outlines of the script and graphics, following the swirls of the clouds and flower petals with your nails, listening to his shallow breath at your touch. “And an eyebrow piercing? Are you trying to tell everyone you’re one of the cool kids now?”

His lips twisted into a small frown. “Am I cool?”

You shrugged. “Every time I hear about the cool kids in our grade, it’s just about how they got knocked up too early or how they dropped out of university, so you tell me.”

“I haven’t gotten knocked up.”

You gave him a look, bordering on impatience.

“Wait, I mean–”

You raised a hand and planted it on his chest, pushing him down on the bed.

“Enough. Stop talking, please.”

You crawled over his body, placing your hands by his head, looking down at him. Jungkook stared up at you, long black hair splayed over the pillows. He was definitely a man now, sharp jawline, manicured brows, slight dark circles from long nights, and, as you leaned down, expensive cologne now, still light and clean but with a twist of sharpness and sweet fruit, still with the same warmth. Your lips pressed against his jaw, leaving kisses, sinking your weight onto him, skin to skin, his gasps under you, and now it seemed like you were back in that time, his teenage self and your teenage self, the same eagerness as his arms surrounded you, running his hands down your back, but now he added his nails, making you hum in approval. He did it more, scratching his nails over your spine as you kissed his jaw, his throat, his ear, jingling his earrings with your tongue, whispering against his skin.

“No one has ever been what you are to me.”

You didn’t bother using past tense, because it wasn’t.

You sat down on his thigh, his semi-hard cock twitching against your skin, turned on by your kisses and your tongue toying with his ear.

“You weren’t even very good, you know. You were kinda shit. Too impatient.”

He shuddered, tensing his forearms against your sides.

“I’m b-better now…” he whimpered, turning into a moan as you bit his ear and rubbed your wetness on his thigh, painting it with your juices. You kept it slow, leisurely, with even pressure.

“Still…”

You lifted your head, bringing your fingers inward, slipping them into his hair, pushing it back, caressing his temple with your thumbs.

“I have loved you all this time, Jungkook, even back then when I didn’t know what love was, when I was only chasing a feeling that was different from all the others.”

His eyes widened, stunned by your words.

“Ah, nevertheless, I came back too late.”

“No.”

His hands on your back, holding you tightly to him.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” he whispered, words from long ago, bringing them back. “And I will.”

He raised his forehead and touched yours.

“I know it’s not fair, I know it’s bad, I know it’s terrible, but I’ll be fucked up if you can’t be right here, with me.”

His lips to yours, small kisses and closed eyes, hiding his tears behind his lashes.

“You are the happiness, and if you continue to love me, I will never let you go.”

That’s what Jungkook said, but the sentiment was slightly interrupted by his cock being so hard that it was actually raising your thigh up into the air.

You smiled against his lips, chuckling.

“I guess I’ll bring a towel when you get her cocktail splashed into your face.”

“Maybe two. She has a lot of internet friends.”

“Hm.”

You lifted your head, smirking.

“Well, I can’t say it would be the first relationship I’ve ruined, although those were far more indirect.”

Jungkook tried to make the moment romantic, but her naked body was on top of him with her wet pussy rubbing on his thigh and his dick was coming back to life right in the middle of his speech.

Still, he couldn’t really complain, because at the moment he was ripping open a condom, on his knees between her legs, rolling it down, eyes roaming over her body lines, poised and elegant and sexy, her hair flared out on the pillows, still neatly pinned up, some kind of sorcery, but that didn’t surprise Jungkook, for she had always had her spell on him and he was better for it.

“You want missionary?” she teased.

He bit his lip, nodding.

“I want to watch your face.”

Her tongue flickered out on the edge of her upper lip, accenting the high point of her smirk.

“Good, then I can watch yours.”

He positioned himself in front of her, pausing for a second, unsure now, but she simply grinned and reached between her legs, one hand on his length and the other on his hip, digging her nails into his ass and shoving him inside her.

“Oh, fuck!”

She seemed highly amused, but he was gone, sudden tightness and wetness enveloping him, pitching forward and catching himself on his palms, sinking into red silk, the intensity bursting from his core and washing over him, shuddering and gasping as she gripped his ass with both hands and sank him down into her pussy, down, down, drowning in the feeling, diving into the depths of pleasure, fuck, he felt it everywhere, her walls clenching and wrapped around his length, the sensitive head rubbing against the ridges, and the emotions that rushed through him as he looked into her eyes, a little humiliated that it affected him so much, a little shocked at how good it felt even with the condom, and a lot of lust and trust and love, all rolling into one, and she purred his name, smooth and silky and gentle, and he couldn’t help himself, slowly rolling his hips and smacking down hard, burying himself to the base, eyelids fluttering, feeling it radiate over his body.

“Too... hard?” he choked out, trying to be considerate, desperate not to fuck up.

She shook her head, snickering.

“Not even close.”

“How can I–?”

But she didn’t let him finish, tapping the mandala flower tattoo on his right elbow and he raised his arms, at loss for words and breath when she raised her legs to his shoulders and tugged his forearms back down, his hands landing on the bed once more.

Oh no.

This was tighter.

“Fuck me, Jungkook, and make it rough.”

I can’t talk or I will blow my load in two seconds.

He nodded, tensing his jaw, and smacked his crotch down, her thighs smacking against his chest.

Oh, fuck me.

He wished he could sound less desperate and less ruined, but he simply didn’t have the capacity for that any longer, tumbling into a series of wild moans as he built up the pace, wave after wave of pleasure crashing into him, too much sensation, soft thighs, wet tightness squeezing his throbbing length, her hands on his upper arms, holding on tightly, his name falling from her mouth along with her erotic exhale. He loved every sound she made, every single one, her moan, her hiss, her growl, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, that’s it, give it to me, Jungkook, loved the way she looked at him, a mixture of bliss and slyness, loved the sound their bodies made, a harsh rhythmic smack, louder and louder, messing up the sheets, her head tipping back, eyes closing, fuck, yes, gonna cum if you keep going like that, so he did, hard, firm, powerful slaps of skin-to-skin, feeling so good but holding himself back, biting his lip hard and moaning in his throat, not willing to orgasm until he made her do so, at least twice.

Jungkook was being ridiculous, he knew, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost it too soon during his first time inside her.

“Mmm, fuck, Jungkook, fuck!”

A sharp throb and then a cascading effect, brutal massages of his length, and he didn’t even realize it, pausing for a second from the strength of her orgasm, his cock clenched all over and squeezed, shocking pleasure that made his eyes roll back, struggling with every fiber of his being to not explode, edging himself by ceasing his thrust, and then he drew back and rammed back into her, clawing up the sheets to press her further down into the bed, nearly bending her in half, but she didn’t seem to mind, gripping his arms and raising her hips to meet him, deeper now, the head being constricted even tighter by this changed angle, him sucking in a deep inhale, smelling blackberry, evergreen, and sex, the sweet smell of her pussy, reminding him of sitting on the bus on his way home and catching that scent on his hands and clothes, not regretting it, loving her mark on him.

It was better now.

Better because he was actually in her pussy.

And better because her teeth caught the side of her lower lip, a second of lost control, lashes lowering, moan in her mouth, his name, his name, his name leaking from her lips.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

He would never tire of it.

Never.

It burst again, a lewd squelch, and the insides of his thighs were soaked with viscous honey, clinging to his balls, violent throbs around his jerking length and Jungkook was gone, gone, everything accumulating at the peak and shattering down, his deep moan flooding the room, shooting his orgasm into the condom as his quivering cock was clenched all around, unbearable euphoria that he welcomed, letting it consume every nerve and vibrate through him, a feeling he never wanted to end.

He let it swallow him, her ocean, her moonlight, her night, and he promised himself that he would never leave.

All in all, Jeon Jungkook hadn’t changed much. That was alright. It was clear that you both had unfinished business in the past that was being hashed out right now.

Through sex, because how else?

He was behind you, both of you kneeling on the bed, his breath on your skin, murmuring your name, wonderment and desire, leaving a trail of kisses on your shoulders and neck.

“You can bite me, you know.”

He nipped at your skin experimentally. You pinched his finger on your upper arm, the little sheepish emoji on his middle right. He squeaked and bit harder. You hummed approvingly, lowering your hand.

“You’re turning me into a crazy person,” Jungkook mumbled to the curve of your neck.

“You were already a crazy person. You just pretend you’re not.”

“That’s not true…”

You gently peeled his right hand from your arm and yanked him forward. He inhaled sharply, hard chest hitting your back as you tugged his arm forward, curving it around you.

“What non-crazy person blacks out the inner part of their elbow and tattoos the bone on the outer part as well?” you accused, rubbing his muscular forearm against your nipples, smirking at his moan, his shiver traveling through your back and to the sparks of pleasure radiating from your breasts at the lovely friction.

“Um…”

That was as far as he gave you as an answer because he had no good answers.

“Mhm.”

His hand curved around your left breast and he ran his fingers over it, tugging at your nipple. You leaned into his touch, sighing softly. Well, maybe you had been a bit harsh. He had changed. Less clumsy now, attaining his own irresistible sensuality that he probably wasn’t even aware of, considering the wavering in his tone.

“You’ve probably had better than me, huh…”

“You would be surprised at the complete inadequacy of the human race when it comes to sex, Jungkook. Most people don’t give two shits about listening to their partner’s wants.”

He pinched your nipple and you moaned, rubbing your ass against his crotch.

“You always do everything I want and even things I didn’t even know I wanted,” he mumbled.

His cock was getting the hint with every rock of your hips, rousing at the soft friction. You listened to his rapid breathing, amused, the amusement turning into fond irritation as you felt his free hand slide between your bodies, tucking his hardening length between your ass cheeks, now slowly and non-discreetly humping you.

Well.

Can’t say you were surprised.

“You’re not that hard to read, Jungkook.”

He was leaking all over the top of your ass, ramming the head into your tailbone, now both hands on your chest, forgetting to answer, too absorbed in touching you, tugging at your nipples in time with his rocking hips, lips back to your neck, biting down and sucking hard, leaving marks. There was power in his hold, passion and desperation, a needy whine vibrating in his throat, faster, harder, pinching your nipples and rubbing the tips, pulling slightly, pleasure from his lips and his hands, your own reaching back and clawing at the small of his back, leaving scratches, yes, please, harder, mark me, make me yours, and you chuckled at his declaration, you were always mine, Jungkook, and he moaned your name in affirmation, licking up your neck, hot shaking breath ghosting your ear.

“Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You sunk your nails into his skin and brought your fingers outward, flicking your wrists to leave sharp lines of lust, his moan in your wake.

“Do it,” you drawled, voice saturated with need.

He pushed you down and your caught yourself with your hands, clutching fistfuls of red silk. You heard the rip of another condom and his groan as he encased his aching length, one hand on your ass, and you spread your legs, his knees fitting between them, the head grazing your wet opening and he slid in with a shudder, filling you up and stretching you out, a little pain that dissipated as he squeezed your ass with two hands, sighing with satisfaction with you.

“I know I said I want to kiss you all the time, and I do,” he panted, stalling.

You smiled, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Jungkook looked back at you and he reached forward, driving deeper into you, making you mewl for him. He plucked the pins from your hair, one by one, undoing the perfection, tossing them aside as he spoke, shrouding your shoulders and face with cool-toned black, surreal and glamorous.

“But I think I’ve decided I also want to fuck you all the time.”

You smirked. “You don’t take much convincing, I must say.”

He eased the last pin from your hair and flicked it aside.

You heard it fall to the floor.

That one wouldn’t be found in the morning.

He grinned. “Maybe I already knew you would be amazing.”

Instead of replying, you leaned forward and then smacked your ass back into his crotch.

Jungkook reeled, hand flying back to your hip, grabbing it tightly as you roughly pushed back into him, his natural response being to thrust forward, compounding the pleasure for you and for him, looking forward again and tipping your head back, letting go, moaning for him, his hardness twitching with your sound, loud and getting louder, bodies tangled, bed creaking, clutching your ass for dear life. You lifted one hand and brought beside your hip and Jungkook gripped your forearm, your body naturally dropping lower, deepening each thrust, and that was it, the uncontrollable need resonating in his deep voice, forcefully pounding you into the mattress, thighs, crotch, balls slapping into your lower half, carnal and wild and visceral, his name and your name mixing together, filling the room with the sight, sound, and smell of sex, so strong, fuck, he was so fucking strong, and so were you, a shock every time your bodies connected, until you were wailing with the ferocity of orgasm, squirming and clutching his forearm as he held yours, clenching around his length, but this time he didn’t stop, fucking you through it, gasping for air.

“Oh fuck, yes, fuck, do it again, cum for me again, fuck, feels so fucking good, feels like you’re choking my cock…”

And he brought it out of you again, your right hand punched into the sheets, your left in his hold, moaning for him, Jungkook, fuck, Jungkook, for him then, him now, him forever, ecstasy and elation, hitting a high you thought didn’t even exist, lust and trust and love, raising your torso and slamming your palm onto the headboard, rattling the whole damn bed.

“Fuck!”

Slamming back onto his cock and squeezing hard, Jungkook gasping at the suddenness of the harsh throbs around his length, jolting inside you and spilling another into the condom, your head whipping to the side, spotting a mirror and there he was, head thrown back, long black hair touching his shoulders, open mouth, eyes rolled back, chest shuddering, your name a shaky moan, holding you tight, his right arm travelling, wrapping around you and lifting you up, and then it was you in the mirror, your body against his, skin to skin, his dark brown orbs shifting down, feeling your eyes on him, and then he was watching your reflections, seeing your joined bodies, panting in unison, both sweaty and spent.

You smiled at him, lit up by moonlight and mirrors.

He smiled back.

And then his hand was on your chin and he turned your head to face him, tilting his head and kissing your smile, seeing it not its reflection but the real thing, no longer only when you thought he wasn’t looking.

time left: 00:00

“Oi.”

Jungkook didn’t recognize that voice at all. He concluded must still be dreaming.

A finger podded his temple.

“Oi!”

He started, but the arms encircling him pinned him in place, not letting him and his naked body leave the bed. Softness pressed against his back, bare nipples rubbing against his skin. He froze.

His dick was rock-hard.

A black-haired man in a black suit with a disturbingly handsome face was glaring at him.

“You animals made a fucking mess.”

“Go away, Seokjin.”

Jungkook squeaked, unable to talk because one of the hands holding him was dancing downwards under the covers, wrapping around his impossibly stiff length. He prayed it wouldn’t start moving up and down, but it did. Slowly. Not enough, but still too much, because he didn’t really want to get jacked off first thing in the morning while someone was very clearly assessing whether or not to cause extreme bodily harm to him.

Well, he did want to get jacked off first thing in the morning.

It was the bodily harm he was less enthused about.

The man named Seokjin squinted at him and it took every fiber of Jungkook’s being to not make a goddamn peep as her fingers ghosted the head, smearing slick pre-cum over the slit.

“I want to take a shower.”

“Then go take a shower. I left towels for you,” she mumbled behind Jungkook’s back.

“Namjoon’s in the shower right now.”

“Then order us some breakfast.”

“I sent Taehyung to do that. Also, it’s noon.”

“Couldn’t you order room service?”

Seokjin shrugged and Jungkook realized his shoulders were huge. “He said he had a friend who worked in the kitchen and was going to reserve us a table.”

She raised her head, resting her chin on Jungkook’s right shoulder and pulsing his cock with her right hand under the sheets. “Taehyung has a lot of friends, doesn’t he?”

Seokjin looked at Jungkook pointedly.

“Er… yeah. T-Tons…”

Those brown eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Jungkook suspiciously. “He seems like a dork.”

“I like dorks. That’s why I keep you around.”

Seokjin stuck his tongue out childishly and yelled at the top of his lungs. “Namjoon!”

“I’m done!”

“Finally,” Seokjin grumbled, walking off and yanking the bathroom door open, barging in unceremoniously.

“Gah!”

“Gah!!!”

“Oh, fuck, please, d-don’t…”

“It’ll only take me a second.”

You dove under the covers and Jungkook clapped his hands over his mouth, your grip on his twitching length moving fast and tight, rubbing your tongue on the hot head, and you were right, it only took a few seconds, and then Jungkook was hissing through his fingers, now, fuck, now, and your mouth swallowed his cock, not a moment too soon as thick spurts of his orgasm shot into your throat, coating the back of your tongue, savoring his smell and his thighs under your breasts, rubbing your nipples on the muscle.

“N-No, stop, stop,” Jungkook whimpered desperately, grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up, your head popping out, smirk on your lips.

You opened your mouth and showed him your tongue covered in his cum.

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me…”

He hurriedly nudged your chin and you closed it, grinning.

Dangerous.

Ill-advised.

Jungkook grinned back at you helplessly, holding your smiling face in his hands.

---

some time later

“I have two towels.”

“She didn’t throw her drink at me.”

“Damn. I even seduced the bartender a little bit to get those plush cotton ones.”

“She asked if she could keep the ring so she could sell it and give the money to her secret, less good-looking boyfriend so he could buy her a new ring.”

“Oh. Wait, what?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. “I said sure, because it wasn’t like the love of my life couldn’t afford her own diamonds.”

“Ah, true, true.”

“I might be slandered for a little while on the internet.”

“Nah, you won’t. Maybe for like, six hours. Then everyone’s attention span will be somewhere else. Also, your taste upgraded in their eyes, from social media influencer to burlesque dancer.”

You grinned, raising your hands to create a finger frame of your index fingers and thumbs, enclosing the handsome face of Jeon Jungkook, long black hair, silver brow piercing, dark sculpted eyebrows, big brown eyes, defined jawline, shapely pink lips, mole of his nose and cheek, and finally that perfect mole underneath his lower lip, appearing as he smiled at you, confused at what you were doing.

“Even though we all know you’re just a hopeless sucker for the class delinquent. Tsk tsk.”

His grin grew mischievous, walking over to you as you lowered your hands.

“Well, I was a shit class representative anyway.”

He leaned down to kiss you, smile to smile.

Twelve hours.

Sunset to night.

fin.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

773 notes · View notes